#hi i had my heart broken again so i am back for a moment :)

[neovillains]

DEATHBED | PART TWO

( HE'S NO DEADBEAT : NANAMI KENTO ) nanami believed he raised his son well, only for him to turn into a deadbeat right in front of his eyes. don't worry, he'll make it up to you. | watch time: 3.8k words.

── gilf!nanami & fem-bodied!reader, she/her pronouns, single mother!reader, adopted grandfather!nanami, deadbeat!yuuji itadori, high age gap, cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, multiple (2) orgasms, creampie, pussyjob, etc.

note. i am going so feral over my own series. like,,, i want to gnaw on the skin of gilf nanami so bad !

“I just don’t understand,” Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he throws his head back in the stress of all this. “You told me a couple of months ago that you love the girl. Now, you’re going back on your word the moment the child’s born? This is not the man I raised you to be.”

“Yeah, well,” Yuuji mumbles on the other line. “I’m sorry for disappointing you, but I just— I don’t think I’m cut out to be a father. I didn’t— I didn’t—”

“You didn’t realize how much responsibility it would be?” Nanami finishes for him. “How old are you again? I thought we were over this conversation the moment you left for college.”

“Why are you giving me so much shit?” Yuuji groans, voice getting more agitated the more his adopted father continues to chastise him. “(Y/N) and I had already had a discussion about things and I would financially provide for the child. That should be enough.”

“That should be enough?” Nanami scoffed, baffled by the words of the pink-haired fool on the other line. He could tell that Yuuji was still naive and idiotic to think that money would be the only thing that you needed to provide for a child all on your own. “What about doctor appointments? Emergencies at school and (Y/N) having to call off work to get them— did you consider instances like that? One person isn’t supposed to juggle the job of two.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll be fine,” Yuuji hums. “You’ve done it with me—”

Nanami couldn’t take anymore of it, pulling the phone from his ears and immediately clicking on the red button to end the call. With a sigh, he brings himself out of the kitchen and towards the leather recliner that’s starting to fade. The burnt umber starting to dull in its color and having more of an orange hue to it. Relaxing in the seat as he leans back, he shuts his eyes. Over the years, he’s finally gotten a chance to relax. Slaving away in an office for hours and hours nearly everyday and coming home to provide for a young Yuuji, it’s brought a toll on his body. Gradually letting himself go, his stomach has grown a bit more pudge to it and the blond of his hair has completely dissipated to white. 

When Yuuji had found you, bringing you home to meet his father, he was happy for his son. You were such a sweet person who managed to handle Yuuji’s outgoing nature. You were someone who could provide him stability, something that Yuuji was in dire need of. However, Nanami should’ve seen this coming when the two of you had been together for ten years and he never mentioned the idea of dropping down to one knee. 

“Fuck,” Nanami curses as he rubs circles into the temples of his forehead. He thought that at some point Yuuji would get it. That he’s no longer a child and has responsibilities to tend to. But instead, he’s still running from adulthood instead of embracing it, coming to terms with it, and stop solely feeding into his inner child. Though it could be a gruesome thing, aging did have its perks. It was sad to see that his son didn’t seem to find that within you and his son. 

He wondered how you were doing. How you truly were doing. Reaching for his phone, he had never called you so periodically before. However, when he heard that you were pregnant, he wanted to be a present grandfather. But when he heard how Yuuji had broken your heart after so many years together, he felt ashamed to have ties with the younger lad. 

Last contacted: Two Weeks Ago.

With a heavy sigh, he presses the call button and waits. He’s expecting you to decline the call but after four rings, your voice— soft— sounds from the other line. “Hello? Nanami?”

“Hello, (Y/N). How’ve you been?”

—

You’re a very eclectic person. That’s what Nanami has learned about you from over the years. When you and Yuuji moved in together, you had taken over all aspects of interior design, having a more maximalist approach to things as countertops were littered with drinkets and pieces that were so vibrant and full of color. He couldn’t tell what your style was— bohemian chic with a mixture of rustic and historical? You mismatched a lot of things, but they always seemed to be coordinated in some sort of way. In the end, your home was an organized chaos that he’s come to admire. 

However, as he sits down on your couch, half of those decoratives and staples to your home are gone. Packed away in boxes as you’re ready to raise a child. Conversations between the two of you were short and brief, that light in your eye that he’s so accustomed to is starting to blow out and he can’t help but feel guilty for the role he has to play in this. 

“How’ve you been holding up, (Y/N)?” He asks out of the blue. “And be truthful with me. Don’t worry about me relaying the message back to Yuuji because I’m not— if that’s what you’re worried about.”

For the first time in the two hours he’s been here, you chuckle. The newborn laying on your chest as you rock your little boy to sleep, you shake your head as the corner of your lips rise. “I’m not worried about that, trust me. I’m just trying to think about that as much as possible, to be honest. It’s been a rough couple of days. With postpartum and everything, it’s taking a toll on me while I’m trying to keep it together.”

“Has he been sleeping well?” Nanami gestures to the baby. “If you need any help with him, you know I’ll be here as much as I possibly can.”

“You know,” you hum. “He’s really not that bad. I don’t want to jinx it, but he’s been good at night. The days, too. He’s been easy so far.”

“Probably because he can detect what you’re going through,” he lets out the comment absentmindedly before clearing his throat. “It’s good that he’s not giving you much trouble though. All you need is easy right now.” 

By the fourth hour, Nanami removed himself from your home. Seeing him out, you were about to shut the door when he stopped abruptly. “And I mean it, (Y/N). Call me if you ever need help. Don’t try to do everything on your own. I’ll be there for you as much as I possibly can.”

Your eyes glisten with tears as you nod. “Thanks, Nanami. I really appreciate that.”

—

Nanami had taken the initiative to do what Yuuji couldn’t. Making regular visits to you to spend time with you and help with the baby as much as he can. Months passed by and gradually you were forgetting about Yuuji. Even with Nanami in your presence, you no longer cared about the guy you had been with for ten years as the older man seemed to be filling this void inside of you as you didn’t feel alone. And when Yuuji would call, you’d always keep conversation short as your voice gained a bit more pep and you were able to get more decent amounts of sleep. 

There was something stirring inside of you when Nanami was around. It was like he made the sun shine brighter. 

Was this right— to be on the verge of developing plausible feelings for your son’s grandfather, your ex’s father? Adopted father, your brain corrected. Nonetheless, Nanami raised Yuuji as if he was his own. Were you just trying to fill that hollow void inside of you that was yearning for connection?

You loved Yuuji. He was childish and didn’t want to hold any responsibility, oftentimes making you do the brunt of things. Truthfully, you shouldn’t have stayed so long. But, you loved him. His childishness made you smile, his want for fun made the days go faster. However, you ended up getting the short end of the stick because of his ways. But still, you loved Yuuji.

Nanami was a tie to Yuuji. And whatever that was going on in your mind was still tied down to Yuuji. 

The pipe was running for far too long that it called for Nanami’s attention. Stepping inside of the kitchen, he stands behind you and reaches to turn off the pipe. He looks down at you when you jump, your back hitting into his chest. Making eye contact, you smile sheepishly as he looks down at you in concern. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t ask if there’s something wrong, he knows that something is. And in the whirlwind of your mind, you blurt, “I think it’s best if you go now.”

The immediate switch up is perplexing, catching Nanami off guard as he instinctively takes a step back. “Huh— did I do something wrong?”

“No, but— but I think it’s best if you stop your little visits,” you continue on, turning your back away from him as you grab the sponge, squirting soap on it. 

“(Y/N), talk to me.”

“I don’t think I want to talk anymore.”

“I don’t care if you don’t want to talk anymore, you’re going to,” he pulls at your wrist, dragging you away from the sink. “Tell me what’s with the abrupt decisions?”

“I—I—” you groan in frustration, flinging yourself against Nanami as you pull him in for a kiss. It lasts for only a second before he’s pushing you off of him, trying to collect his thoughts and understand what just happened. Your face heats up feeling like a complete fool. 

“I’m so sorry. I just— This is why you need to—” However, before you can even finish your sentence, he’s pulling you back into his embrace. The warmth of his body makes you melt as you taste his lips, fingers scrunching in the baby blue t-shirt hanging off his body. The tension from inside of you is relieved as your hand goes to drape around his neck as you let out the slightest of moans. It’s then that he pulls away, a string of saliva following.

Nanami’s brown eyes stare into you, no longer filled with the youth of his younger days like how you’ve seen in his photo albums. However, you can see how they brighten up with you in his hold. In a low and raspy voice, “If this was what you were scared about, I would’ve assured you a long time ago that you’re safe with me.”

He plants another wet and chaste kiss on your lips, adding, “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to take care of you for the rest of the years I have.”

With your son fast asleep, the two of you become so enamoured in each other’s lust that reality slips past. Nanami’s veiny hands grip onto your hips with purpose and pull you closer into him. From the time he’s been spending with you, you’ve made him realize how much he’s missed out on companionship. How he had been so occupied with work and providing for Yuuji that he never took the chance to really connect with anyone. Aside from the occasional women and a few sporadic dates, his life was one of loneliness. Your lips are soft and full of life, transporting him back to his late twenties— blond hair and unblemished skin, green-tinted spectacles that hid his beautiful coffee-toned eyes. He was stressed out then, but imagine if he had found someone like you back then? Closer in age and held the same stupor that would make him realize his mistakes much sooner, he wouldn’t have ended up in the predicament he is in now. Kissing on a girl that’s nearly half his age, the mother of his grandson. He should feel ashamed of himself— disgusted— but his body craves this. Craves you. 

You manage to guide him to your bedroom without his knowing, his mind so preoccupied that the moment you gently shut the door, he’s disoriented. The two of you have moved so seamlessly in the heat of things that it makes this all too real. But still, even when you’re sitting on the edge of the bed and he’s climbing over your body, he can’t stop himself. Lust-blown eyes that gaze into yours, he breathes heavily. “You’d willingly love an old man like me?”

“Yes,” you breathe with a faint nod. “Need someone to take care of me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Nanami breathes. “You’d let an old man use this beautiful body of yours— ruin it with his old cock?”

You go to cup his face, eyes gleaming when you say, “You could never do that, Kento.”

He grounds his erection into your covered heat, pressing his lips down on yours before haughtily saying, “Oh, but I want to.” 

And your eyes say it all, giving him permission as you feel the fire that ignites in between your legs. Arousal continues to build up as Nanami’s breathing gets heavier. Aging lines that protrude the skin, cheeks sucked and exhausted eyes that reflect those many years of labor. You remember the words of your ex telling you about him, speaking so highly of his father and how he worked endlessly. Yuuji always said that his father needed a break, and finally does it feel like he is. Spending leisure time buried inside of your pussy.

Nanami knows he has to be careful not to strain the bones inside of his body, knowing that one bad ache can be detrimental. However, he’s eager— way too eager to have a taste. Traversing down your body, he stops himself at the hem of your shorts. One leg on the floor with the other knee pressing into the mattress of the bed, he grabs at the elastic of it and slowly drags it down. Your hips rise up from the sheets as your thighs press together before he’s flinging the two garments down to the ground. Your body was slowly getting back to what you used to recognize it for. After going through labor, your stomach had felt like it became a deflated balloon, gaining more and more stretch marks than you originally had. When you took Nanami up on his offer to help you, he encouraged you to get out of the house as much as you can. It had helped, but you were still coming to terms with the new you.

However, with every gentle touch that Nanami places on your body, it feels like nothing has changed. The way he caresses your waist, gently tugging you down to his lips. Hands pushing at the hem of your shirt and making it rise as your stomach is exposed. The gentle kiss to your left inner thigh and the soft rub to your stomach is a simple gesture that makes sparks fly. He spreads your legs slowly, but his eyes glued on yours as his hands come to travel higher up. He’s so close to you, his breath dancing over your pussy as he mumbles, moreso to himself than to you, “God, so beautiful.”

Simple gestures and simple words that give you enough validation as you say his name, Kento. Your legs tense up before relaxing, your body beginning to jitter the more he gets so transfixed with it. It’s only for the palm of his hand to stop and relax you before spreading you open even further. “Don’t get shy on me now, love. I’ll take care of you, just like you need to be.”

The first kiss to your lips is short, a simple taste test to your nectar— you’re the finest honey he’s ever tasted. Your arousal has him addicted, pressing his nose into your clit as he inhales your scent. Intoxicating and tantalizing, he finds himself getting lost in a matter of seconds. Your body shudders, making your spine arch with the way his tongue presses down into your warmth. One hand digging into your sheets while the next knots inside of his hair, pulling at the thinning strands of his scalp. However, he couldn’t care less as he finds himself impeccably lost. Your short tugs has him moaning, a sign of encouragement for you to continue those savoury sounds as his hand goes in search for the next to guide it where it belongs. 

With both of your hands tangled in what used to be blond, your legs trap him inside your heat as his arms wrap around your waist. There’s an ache settling inside of his legs, but he keeps himself still as his pink tongue prods at your folds. You’re a mewling mess as your eyes are shut and basking in this bliss. Your breathing becomes heavy as you can only think of the man making you feel so good. You gnaw on your bottom lip in hopes to ground yourself as his tongue swirls against your labia, nose nuzzling into your clit as he presses the muscle deeper and deeper within you. 

Wet sounds start to seep within the air as Nanami’s not caught up for breath once as you’ve got each other locked in each other’s hold. His moans are deep and from the soul, his arms tightening around your waist as he can feel it before you can. That coil deep within your body, shortly undoing and bringing you to the brink. Arousal dressing his taste buds, your juices continue to seep out as your back arches off the bed and your fingers get tighter. “K-Ken… Kento!”

“I know,” he pulls up for a first. “And I’ve got you.”

Nanami tips you over the edge, knocking you out of breath the moment he presses a finger to your clit. A high-pitched gasp leaving your mouth as you close your eyes shut and cry out in pleasure. “Kento, ohmigosh!”

You drag out a long-winded ‘oh,’ building up pride in the older man as a smirk graces his lips as he laps up your orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your upper body falls back into the sheets and your chin points to the ceiling. Your breath is ragged as you slowly fall from your high and feel the bed shuffle. A deep groan settles from off of his chest as Nanami has to take a moment to stretch out his limbs. He reaches to pull off his shirt and undo his pants, the tight-fitted boxer briefs resting on his lower half when your eyes start to flutter open once more. Chest rising and falling, you admire the chub of the man before you. 

He dropped the habit of working out in his early sixties the moment he realized the amount of strain it was putting on his body. And no longer did he care for it, not bothering to wake up in the early mornings or get ready in the evenings for it. Instead, he opted in for daily walks and called it a day. But even those had become a biweekly hobby. He was no longer sharp and strong as he used to be, but the remnants of it and the roundness of his body was more comforting than ever. Eyes lingering to the bulge inside of his undergarments, you ogled at the size of it, white hairs leading down to it. Inching towards you, he brought your attention to his face. Your glossy eyes no longer transfixed on the length hiding under the elastic cloth as he inched down to you. One hand cupping your face as he breathes heavily, giving you a once over. 

“My son,” he starts before clearing his throat. “My son never knew how to handle a woman like you.”

It was gradual. You didn’t know when he had managed to slip free of his underwear. “Could’ve never taken care of a woman like you.” 

You didn’t know when he managed to hike your legs up over his waist, his tip kissing at your clit and making you absentmindedly shudder. “That’s why you need me.”

It isn’t until you feel the press of his cock head inching inside of your heat that you’re taken out of your trance, your mouth falling open into an ‘O’ as a whimper leaves your lips. “Only I can take care of you. Be everything my son isn’t— a man.” 

“Yeah,” you agree with a meek nod, feeling the intrusion of his cock seer through you. 

“Yeah?” Nanami hums, pressing deeper and deeper into you until he’s fully sheathed. His breathing staggers a bit before regaining control. “I’m the only man you need. The only man that can give you what you need, hm?”

“Yes, Kento,” you whine and whimper, feeling how he pauses to get you acclimated. “I only need you. You’re perfect for me.”

One more chaste kiss before he’s pulling out of you, the head prodding at your entrance. A thought he’s unaware he’s said out loud, And you’re perfect for me. 

His length is thick and stretches open your walls, making you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt with any of your past partners. His hips don’t move with that same motion he had in his younger years. No longer languid movements, but growing rougher in age. Each thrust is calculated and hard against your pussy. His deep groans and grunts make your mind spiral and your eyes constantly flutter as each sound spills from his mouth. At some point, he comes to hold your face and does nothing else. A small and simple gesture that makes you melt into him. 

Your pussy, while used, sucks him up in a tight grip that doesn’t make him want to ever leave it. He finds himself stuck at the thought of leaving the sweetness that it is, your cunt a gift to him from heavens themself. Your hands wrap around his neck, nails digging into his fragile skin and sure to bruise as your legs tense up around him, his eyes flutter shut. “Gosh, it’s like your pussy was made for me to enjoy.”

And when he brings you to orgasm, you entrap him with your legs and call for his release as well. You milk of what he’s worth, letting him empty himself out into you without any concerns of the repercussions. You let out high-pitched mewls and moans when he rolls to the other side of the bed, having to take a moment to catch his breath. However, with your body running ablaze, a heat still sparked inside of you, you tiredly move yourself to hover over his frame and catch him off guard. “Wha— What are you doing?” 

“I need more of you.” The tip of his cock still leaking his seed and your pussy dripping of your intermingled cum, you press your cunt against his length. Grinding yourself against his softening length in hopes to liven him up again, you watch as he chuckles exhaustedly. “A pretty thing like you will surely lead me to my deathbed.”

( subscriptions. ) @tojiswifeforlife @clqxuds @gojocon @alcera @nanamineedstherapy @s-1-xx @lotuslovers @r0ckst4rjk @mutsu422 @sukubusss @twinky-wink @levkuna @des-todoroki @bakarinnie @hanham10 @seppyco @simpingforheros @nanasukii28 @littlelilies @strawberriesrule @billiondollarworth @keiette @konekobby @stargirl-mayaa @ratedrrrr @leocancerlibra @strawberrymiguel @princess-vibes25 @ravenbc @inzanekillian @palegardenrebel @saik-k @sukunaspillow @serendippindots

[loverangels]

Can you do a Luke Castllan x Daughter of Apollo Reader where she convinces him to rejoin the gods/ Camp Side after sneaking into the Princess Andromeda? More fluffy stuff is always good for this side of Tumblr ☺️

the light you carry

pairings: luke castellan x daughter of apollo!reader

a/n: love this request hope you like it lovie!

The Princess Andromeda rocked gently with the waves, the ship’s eerie silence broken only by the faint creak of wood and distant footsteps from unseen creatures. Every step you took felt heavier, the cool air pricking your skin as you crept through the dim corridors. You weren’t afraid—not of the monsters or the ship’s looming shadows. The only thing that scared you now was the thought of losing Luke completely.

When you reached the door to the captain’s quarters, you hesitated, your fingers brushing the cold metal. You didn’t know what you’d find on the other side. Luke wasn’t the same boy who’d made campfires feel like home and turned even the dullest moments at Camp Half-Blood into memories you cherished. The Luke you remembered had been kind, brave, warm. The Luke who stood with Kronos was angry, closed-off, and drowning in his own pain.

But you still loved him.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open.

The room was quiet, save for the faint sound of waves crashing outside. The light of a lantern flickered on a cluttered desk, illuminating the figure hunched over it. Luke.

He looked so different now—his shoulders rigid, his once-bright golden hair a little duller, a shadow of exhaustion darkening his eyes. But despite everything, he was still Luke. And just seeing him again made your chest ache.

You stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. “Luke,” you whispered.

He froze, his pen dropping from his hand and clattering onto the desk. Slowly, he turned, his eyes wide as they locked on you. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“Am I dreaming?” he murmured, almost to himself. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

You took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “It’s me, Luke.”

He flinched like your words had struck him. “No,” he said, his voice wavering. He took a step back, shaking his head. “You can’t be here. You’re not… You’re not real.”

“I’m real,” you said softly, taking another step toward him. “I came to find you.”

His gaze flickered across your face, searching for something—proof, maybe, that this wasn’t some cruel trick. “Why?” he asked, his tone almost desperate. “Why would you do that? Why would you come here?”

You hesitated for a moment, your chest tightening. Then, closing the distance between you, you reached out and gently cupped his face in your hands.

The moment your fingers touched his skin, he froze. His breath hitched, his eyes wide with something like shock. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, his expression open and raw in a way that made your heart ache.

“It’s really you,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

You nodded, your thumbs brushing lightly over his cheeks. “It’s me.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His hands hovered at his sides, like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you, if he was even allowed to. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He just looked at you, his blue eyes filled with so many emotions you couldn’t name them all.

Finally, you smiled, your voice soft and full of warmth. “You’re still my Luke, you know.”

That broke him. His breath shuddered, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him together. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You shook your head, leaning in just enough for your foreheads to touch. “Don’t say that. You don’t have to be perfect, Luke. You just have to come back with me.”

He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. “You really think I can?” he asked, his voice fragile.

“I know you can,” you said firmly. “We’ll figure it out together. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension hanging in the air like a held breath. Then, slowly, his hands came up to rest on your wrists, his touch gentle and hesitant, like he was afraid you might disappear.

“Together?” he asked softly, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Together,” you promised.

And then, before either of you could think twice, he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. But when you didn’t pull away, when you kissed him back just as softly, his hands moved to your waist, holding you close.

The kiss was slow and tender, full of unspoken words and quiet promises. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled—a real, genuine smile.

“You’re too good for me,” he whispered, his voice teasing but full of affection.

“And you’re stuck with me,” you replied, a playful glint in your eyes.

He laughed softly, the sound warm and familiar, and pulled you into his arms. As you buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you knew that things wouldn’t be easy. But with Luke beside you, you felt the light in your heart burn a little brighter.

And maybe, just maybe, his light was starting to return, too.

[fortunekookie07]

Stay

Hey guys! So I know I'm supposed to be working on my requests, and I am, I really am! I've had this story floating around my head for a few weeks now. I was finally able to write out the ending thanks to Caleb's return. His appearance is small, but it added just the right element, in my opinion.

This is gonna be a long one, a very long one. Quite easily, the longest I have posted here. So without further ado, I present to you Stay.

****************************************************

In the final moments of your life, you supposedly have your life flash before your eyes, and in a way, that was what was happening to you.

You knew your body was flying through your life's experiences trying to find the way to save you now. It wasn't going to happen. This time, you were really going to die. You didn't regret the way you were going to die. The Wanderers were now gone. You'd managed to save everyone.

For the first time in your life, you were grateful for the Aether core in your heart. It had given you the power you needed to repel and destroy the last of the Wanderers. Chansia would be able to rebuild and go on now.

If there was something you regretted, it was your parting with Sylus. Your hand felt empty without the comforting weight of his ring. You hoped someone else would take up the case of finding your brother and grandmother's murderer.

The edges of your vision were going dark. Blood was seeping between your lips and down your chin. Lying on the ground in the ruble of what had been an office building wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wouldn't be long now.

You could hear shouting, people were calling your name. You couldn't hear clearly enough to make out who was desperately searching for you. You wanted to call out and let then know you were here. But any attempt to speak resulted in coughing up more blood.

You knew your ribs were broken. Most likely at least one had punctured your lungs. Your leg was definitely broken. Being thrown had caused the rib break. Having heavy debris falling on you had caused the leg break.

The calling grew louder. They had almost reached you. At least you wouldn't be alone in the end. A smile tugged your lips upward.

Using what little strength you could muster, you managed to grab a rock and toss it a bit. The resulting clatter echoed in the otherwise silent space.

"Over here, she's here"! The voices were accompanied by footsteps and sliding rocks.

People came to your side moments later. You were surprised at the faces you saw. "Sy... lus?" You managed weakly trying to lift your hand again.

The last time you saw him came rushing back as tears gathered in your eyes. You remembered every detail of the last fight.

*******************************************************

CRASH

Luke and Kieran turned in the direction of the master's study. They were at it again, this would be the fourth time this week an argument had broken out.

"I'm going on this trip, Sylus, and that's final"! Your voice echoed down the hall to the library where the twins were sitting.

"How do you think it'll end this time?" Kieran asked his twin. "Same as always." Luke said looking back down to his book.

You were fuming, blood racing as your heart pounded. "I am not a child, Sylus. I am going on that trip!" You shouted at him hands splayed on the surface of his desk as you leaned over it glaring back at him. He was just staring back at you. Eyes hard, a deep frown on his brow. A fist was clenched near his temple.

"I said no. It's too dangerous." He responded in his faux calm, even sounding voice. You clenched your hands into fists. Nails digging into your palms. "It's my damn job. I have to go, and I will be going to Chansia." You'd been trying to tell him about the mission Captain Jenna was sending you on all week to no avail.

Everyone knew how bad the situation was there and how poorly understaffed and under-equipped to deal with the outbreak they were.

They needed help and Jenna was counting on you and six others to go. She had put you in charge of the team and given a rundown of their immediate need. Metaflux was out of control and Wanderers were running rampant in the city. Total lock down had been imposed and people were advised to stay inside and defend themselves in whatever way possible.

You would be teaming up with the Chansia hunters and begin reducing the Wanderer numbers. Rescuing those in desperate need was the second objective. Updating their metaflux barriers was the final goal.

Captain Jenna had stressed the extreme dangers you would be going into and the importance of maintaining personal safety. How this had happened in the first place was unclear, news was slow coming from the city. What did trickle out was only a plea for assistance.

It wasn't like you didn't understand Sylus' concerm for your wellbeing. You'd endured injury after injury fighting the Wanderers. Had broken almost every bone in your body to date. The worst of which had earned you six weeks in the hospital. One of which was in the ICU.

What had made you so angry was his immediate no, when you first brought it up. He couldn't go with you this time due to conflicting schedules and no other flights could be scheduled to Chansia until the situation was resolved.

Your flight was supposed to leave early in the morning. Originally you'd planned to spend some time with Sylus and get him to take you to the airport, but since he was being an asshat, that was no longer an option you wanted to explore.

Storming out of his study you angrily dashed up the stairs to the bedroom. Your anger was such that you didn't even want to be under the same roof as him right now. You shoved all of your clothes into one of your bags and began throwing random items into another.

You didn't need to turn and look to see him standing in the doorway watching you angrily buzz around his bedroom.

"Just where are you going?' He finally asked after several minutes watching you. "I'm going home!" You said throwing your slippers off and stuffing your feet into your boots. "Wait, just wait a minute. You're not leaving..". He began before you cut him off.

"The hell I'm not! You don't get to tell me what to do Sylus. I am not your underling or employee." You push past him with both bags. He tries again to stop you. "Wait, don't leave now. It's raining." Again he tries to prevent you from leaving but you keep walking.

"I'm going home to sleep and then I'm going to Chansia in the morning." You tell him resolutely daring him to try and stop you.

He follows you all the way to the front door. You set your bag down and reach for the knob and then see the ring he'd given you a few months prior. You pull it off your finger and turn around.

You throw it at his head. "Take your ring back, I don't need someone who does not respect me. I'd rather be completely alone. Tears sting your eyes as you catch his expression.

It's just a slight change in his demeanor, but after two years together you can read him like an open book. He's hurt by your actions, deeply hurt. The ring you just threw at his head had been one he personally designed and picked all materials for.

When he'd give it to you, he admitted it had taken him six months to find the red diamond that was the center stone. He'd wanted it to be absolutely perfect, and you knew how high his standards were.

Saying yes to his proposal had been one of the happiest days, but looking at that ring now just hurt. He had no confidence in you and he didn't respect your desire to help others. How could you willingly marry a person like that? The answer seemed simple, you couldn't.

You slammed the door behind you and dashed over to your car. Slipping into the driver's seat, you threw your bags into the backseat and started the engine. Waiting for the heat to kick on, you sat there for a few minutes trying not to cry.

You will the tears to stop, urging yourself not to shed one more second of sadness for him. Sylus did not respect you or your wishes. He had made that abundantly clear tonight. So why should you grieve his loss? Like flipping a switch, the rational part of your brain took over and your tears stopped. Drying your face as you pulled out of the parking spot and flipped the car around. Headed back down the long drive of his ridiculously huge home.

Twenty minutes later you were back in the familiar brightly lit, Linkon downtown area. It was late, almost one thirty now. Thankfully You'd be at your complex in less than five minutes.

As you were getting out of the car you heard your phone beep with a new message. Glancing down, you saw it was from one of the numbers the twins liked to use. It said 'just making sure you made it home safe.' The rustle of wings and a caw had you looking up into the huge tree.

You knew then, that the twins weren't the ones to send the message. Sylus had, and just like always he was checking up on you. A gesture that used to make you feel warm, now left you cold.

In your anger you typed out, don't bother. My actions are no longer your concern.

You couldn't bring yourself to send the text. Instead you tossed your phone onto the bed and then flung yourself down after it. Sleep was going to be a must for the long flight to come in a few hours.

What felt like only minutes later, your phone was going off. You groaned and looked at the screen. Why did this always happen before the alarm sounded? You glanced at the screen, surprised to see Captain Jenna calling so early.

You sat up, now wide awake and answered the call. "I'm sorry for calling so early and right before you head to Chansia, but this couldn't wait". She says before you can even great her.

"What's going on"? You ask, concern pulling your brows into a frown. The seriousness of her tone is putting you on edge. "I've tried not to pry too much, and I know you're investigating the murder of your grandmother and brother, but your frequent trips to the N109 Zone have caught attention. I'm being questioned now. If you weren't headed to deal with an emergency today, I'd be required to pull you from this mission and brought in for questioning." You can tell that she doesn't like saying any of this to you.

"You're one of our top hunters and consistently have the most rescues and time put in, but it's drawn some bad attention to you. I'm so sorry, but when you get back from Chansia, I'll have to bring you in and before all of the commanders and even the chief". The silence following her words is loud. Your heart is thudding in your chest.

You want to blame Sylus for this, but the fault lies with you. You'd known that eventually someone was going to see your location constantly in a place it shouldn't be, and now they had noticed.

"Thanks for the heads up Captain." You tell her somberly, resigned to the fate you'd chosen. "Just take care of yourself, whatever that means for you". Her words carried a weight you were unable to place at that moment. After wishing you a safe flight, the line went dead.

You got up from the bed and began rechecking your bags, trying to ensure you'd forgotten nothing. For some reason you couldn't shake that you wouldn't return to this place again. One last glance around and you were headed out the door.

You heard a car pull up as you locked the door followed by a horn. Glancing behind you, the taxi that you'd requested was right on time. As you approached, the driver got out and helped place your bags in the trunk. A short while later and you were speeding down the highway towards and uncertain future.

*******************************************************

Sylus sat in his chair after you had left, fingers holding up his head and a deep frown on his face. In front of him on the desk, sat your ring. Gleaming back at him, almost mocking him with your absence.

He was tempted to go after you, the thought of following you all the way to Chansia appealed to him greatly. It would mean postponing his trip to Italy, but he could always go there after getting you.

Finally after thinking over his plan and getting all the details straight, he called in Luke. "Make sure the jet is fuled. We're going to make a little detour. He was coming for you, one way or another.

*******************************************************

The situation in Chansia was so much worse than what you were prepared for. Your plane couldn't land in the city because the airport was no longer there. Part of it had collapsed and it looked like a bomb had gone off.

When you finally made it into the city the other hunters were waiting to escorted your group to their secured temporary base. You could tell they were exhausted. Constant fighting with little to no rest had drained them greatly.

That had been three days ago, now your group was equally running on empty. Rescues were slow going. The few families you'd managed to get to had been safely evacuated. Combined efforts had resulted in some success at the very least. Part of the city on the western side was no Wanderer free. Patrols roamed the freed edge ensured thay it remained safe.

"We need to put together a small team and head straight for the center of this mess. If we can stabilize the mwtaflux and implement the reinforced shield then no new Wanderers will appear." You were sitting at a make shift table with Captain Willow and a few others. "It's a suicide mission!" One of the Chansia hunters objected.

You sighed heavily, this had been the argument for the last half hour. Rubbing your temple you spoke again. "Look, I understand your concerns and objects very clearly but you need to remember this. If we don't do this, the Wanderers will keep appearing and our efforts to evacuate will turn into a retrieval for the deceased. My team and I cam here with three objectives. I will do this myself if I have to, but it's going to be done." You had tried being nice, and you had even tried negotiating, but the same hunter again and again stood in your way.

"Captain Willow, you can take this down as defying a direct order from yourself if you wish, but I am going to get that shield up. Even of I have to do it without support."

Looking at the stubborn and set faces of the Chansia hunters you got up from the table. "So be it then, stay alive." You tell them and leave the tent. You make a brief stop by your own tent. Simone is waiting for you.

"I take it they are still opposed to heading to the metaflux center then?" She asked, but not needing an answer. You just nod and enter the tent, gesturing for her to follow behind you. "What will you do no?" She asked sitting on the cot beside you.

"No choice, I'll have to do this alone. I can't risk the safety of the entire team on a small chance of success." You flop back onto the cot and throw your arm over your eyes. "I can go with you." She said softly. You lift your arm just enough to see her. She is grapling with something.

"I can't let you come this time Simone. You're my partner, so if I can't find a way then you'll have to lead the team. I won't leave them without direction." You stand up and pat her shoulder.

Simone has worked with you for almost a year now. She was a very capable and reliable partner. If you couldn't do this, she might be able to.

You started packing a backpack, making sure the Flux stabilizer and shield were secured. If they were damaged, then saving Chansia would become a hundred times harder. The odds already seemed impossible. If only Xavier were here now. He could get you to the center.

You shook your head. Xavier had been on an extreme mission for the last year now. It's how Simone became your partner. With Xavier otherwise occupied the spot beside you had become vacant and some missions were just too dangerous to do alone.

With a map of the city and a goo understanding of where the Wanderers were concentrated, you plotted your route with Simone. It was going to be easy, damn near impossible, but if you could stick to this, the faintest hope existed that Chansia could be saved.

Having everything you needed, you made one final stop to Captain Willow's tent. She seemed to know to expect you. "I won't report you for insubordination, I know you are trying to save the city. Even if I don't agree with your methods. Captain Jenna has told me of you. It's not like your reputation is unknown to us. I wish you luck." She turned and went into the tent after.

Picking your way through the east side of the city was easy going at first. The sun was up so at least the nocturnal Wanderers were not active during the day. The further into the city you got, the harder it became to go unnoticed by the Wanderers.

Battling them seemed to attract more attention. It had been four hours since you left the campsite. You'd managed to get only halfway to the target.

The sun was starting to set. The longer this took, the harder it would get. Depending on the type, nocturnal Wanderers could be up to ten times more dangerous. There was one type of Wanderer that you prayed would not be in the vicinity. You wouldn't be able to take it on alone. It just wasn't possible.

After another hour has passed you finally arrived at the building, or what was left of it. This was where the strongest distortions in the metaflux were coming from. No doubt this was also the most dangerous place in Chansia city.

The first two floors of the building has collapsed. Surprisingly, at least from what you could see, the thrid floor now resided on the first. Making your way over sections of broken wall and scattered glass, you headed for the hole in the wall that would get you inside. Much of the floor was still in tact.

Well from what you could see. Unsurprisingly, there was no power. Shadowy darkness awaited you past the hole. With the rapidly sinking sun, you did not have much time.

Carefully you made your way inside, a flashlight leading the way. You occasionally swept the bright light around, checking for any lurking Wanderers. You breathed a sigh of relief, not noticing the large tail coming up from behind you.

*******************************************************

Finally he'd come back, the urgent mission taking him deep into the tunnel was over. He smiled looking at the back of his phone. A picture of the two of you as kids was displayed in the case.

In it you were hugging him, caught in a laugh and your eyes closed. He remembered thay day well. Every moment was precious to him.

Who knew that Jospehine adopting the two of you as her grandchildren would bring him a world of joy? Nothing was more precious to him than you. His precious sister, one of the only good things to come out of his life.

His work was dark and devoid of the light that seemed to always grace you with it warm love. He was always reaching for thar sun, for you. "Just wait for me, I'm finally coming home." He whispered to himself before getting up from his seat and heading for the ships open bay doors.

An hour later and he felt nothing but frustration. You weren't home, no one seemed to know where you were. Deciding to just cut to the chase, he was headed to association headquarters when a story played on the TV.

"Our latest breaking story, Linkons finest were deployed to Chansia city several days ago and since then no information has been received as to their fate. Reports have trickled in over the latest disaster to befal Chansia city. An Ignus wrymlord was spotted yesterday in the cities center. Unconfirmed pictures of the Wanderer have been provided to us but we've been unable to verify the identity of the creature seen in Chansia's vicinity. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the men and women fighting to save the lives of the people still trapped. Please stay safe."

After the report ended for a moment the picture was displayed on the screen. He froze, blurry picture or not. It could only be one thing. He picked up his pace running to headquarters hoping against hope to find you there.

*******************************************************

Your ears were ringing and your fingers came away wet from the side of your head. You didn't know exactly what had happened. Only that you'd been thrown into the side of the wall. You hadn't seen what had attacked you either. The flashlight was gone and so was the backpack you'd been carrying.

The first attempt to get up had your stomach curling.

So you lay there for several minutes. Waiting for the ringing to subside.

It was when you attempted to stand that you finally heard it. A roar so loud it had you crouching down and trying to block your ears. It felt like the very ground was shaking.

Fire sprouted to life moments later, lighting up the space all around you. Any hopes of leaving you previously had vanished. Ten feet in front of you nesting in the huge creator in the ground was a creature that resembled a dragon.

Your brain whispered the correct name for this monster but your eyes couldn't make sense of it. No Wanderer of this magnitude had been seen on this side of the Deepspace Tunnel since their appearance sixteen years ago. Only petrified remains could be found in the older parts of Linkon city, but even then. None of them were the size of this one.

Easily thirty feet across, with a wingspan of at least a hundred feet. It's tail flicked behind it, and you knew this had been what knocked you into the wall.

Without the stabilizer you couldn't even drive it off. Much less fight it, but lacking any other choice you stood your ground and waited for it to make a move.

Maybe you could deal it enough damage that someone else could finish what you started.

This time you were ready for the tail swipe. You just barely managed to dodge. You drew your weapons and fired, the bullets ricocheted off the scales not leaving so much as a scratch.

You began trying to recall your studies in the academy. They had taught you about every known Wanderer. Ignus wrymlord being the most dangerous one.

A nocturnal type, vast firepower, highly intelligent and calculating. Territorial and temperamental, all of these things made for a very aggressive Wanderer.

Tightening your grip on your favorite guns you stared it down. You were going down fighting, refusing to give in to fear. Let your efforts cast the die of fate in Chansia's favor.

Standing to your full height you took a deep breath and dashed forward.

*******************************************************

Explosions rocked the ground, and at first Sylus thought it was an earthquake. For how frequent it was and the fact that it seemed to come from one part of the city every time, he crosses that off the list.

It was only when a bright light lit up the sky, blazing as bright as the midday sun, did he know something was very wrong. He felt his heart constrict in his chest and cold fear wash over him. It was coming from you.

You were unleashing the power in your heart, all of it and all at once. This would kill you for certain.

As he emerged from the side of the building he ran into a few other people. The two women he recognized immediately. Tara your chatty best friend and Jenna leader of your unit. The man he thought looked familiar, dark hair and piercing purple eyes. He was almost as tall as he was.

"Name yourself!" Jenna shouted at you holding her gun aloft. Her shouts attracted some attention. Approaching behind them was a large group of low level Wanderers. Like it was reading his thoughts his evol took shape and raced past them, cutting down the first wave easily.

Getting to you wasn't going to be easy.

*******************************************************

You got to your feet again, your body protested as another wave of pain threatened to knock you over. Numerous cuts and gashes had taken you over. There was hardly a patch of skin on you not soaked in your blood. One of your guns had been lost the last time you'd been thrown against the wall.

At least you'd managed to deal it damage too. It's wings were shreaded and bent at odd angles. It's tail could no longer throw you around either. Being trapped under a huge section of the ceiling. One of its eyes had also been taken out.

You may be worse for wear, but this Wanderer certainly wasn't unscathed. Your body felt heavy and your mind was becoming hazy. Briefly you wondered if it was because you'd lost too much blood.

It roared again, shaking the ground and knocking you off your feet. You heard your other gun hit the ground and silently cursed its loss. Now out of weapons, ideas and strength, you sank to your knees. Your evol had been drained to empty awhile ago.

You thought back to everything you'd ever learned about protocores and Aether cores. To when you'd first met Sylus after sneaking into the N109 Zone. He'd told you that the Aether core in your heart could provide unlimited energy. What was preventing you from using it to destroy this Wanderer?

The moment that thought popped into your head and idea began to take place. Quickly setting to work in provoking the Ignus wrymlord into striking several load bearing pillars brought the upper floors down with a crash.

The light of the moon shone down through the clouds of dust. The Wanderer roared in fury at having its lair destroyed. It began attacking you indiscriminately.

Trying to tap into the power of the Aether core in your heart had never been easy. Sylus had tried many times with little to no success. He used his own freely but couldn't understand why you were unable to do the same.

You realized the answer quickly. It wasn't that you couldn't. Rather that you shouldn't, his thinking before that, you had very similar Aether cores was wrong. They were vastly different. Sylus' provided strength. Yours was meant to protect, the answer seemed so obvious now. It was a wonder it alluded you before.

Once you understood that, it was as simple as breathing to draw out the power. Slow going at first as you imagined the power gathering in your hands. Opening your eyes, that was exactly what you were doing.

A golden ball was in your hands. Growing in size as you gather more and more power. When you had it all you stared, dazed at the explosive energy dancing just over your palm. You smiled faintly, this would surely save all those still trapped in Chansia. This Wanderer wouldn't hurt anyone else.

With that thought in mind you fired the ball of energy at the Ignus. Once again you were knocked off your feet, but this time there would be no getting up.

*******************************************************

"Stay with me, Kitten." Sylus said as he took your hand. You blinked slowly as your vision refocused on what was in front of you. You glanced to the side and saw Tara. She was crying and doing a poor job of hiding it. "It's ok, you're gonna be fine!" She said voice cracking. Jenna had a grim look on her face to she could only scrunch he'd fists and try to hide the worry in her eyes.

It was then that another person made his presence known. "C... Caleb?" .... You asked, voice unsure as you stared at him. Unable to believe he was real, and this was not his spirit coming to guide you.

"Hey pipsqueak." His voice lacked it's usual cheer. You could see the worry all over his face, it wasn't like him. "Ca..leb?" You say softly reaching for his face trying to smooth the worry from his brow. "S'ok I'm fine." He grabs your hand and holds it firmly.

"Of course you are. A medical will fix you right up. You won't even have a scar afterwards." You can see that he doesn't believe what he's telling you and you try to smile at him, but coughing takes over. More blood is seeping between your lips.

"Where's that damn medic?" Glancing back at Captain Jenna as she anxiously looks around for someone. "I'm fine, it doesn't hurt anymore." Your arm goes limp as you can't hold it up anymore. "I'm jus gonna take a lil nap." You whisper and your eyes slide closed.

Sylus grabs your hand tighter in his grasp. "No, you need to stay awake now. Kitten stay with me." You manage to wrench your eyes open again but you can hardly see now. Everything is hazy and even though you're laying down the room is spinning. "It's ok, just let me go." Unable to keep your eyes open anymore they close again. In the silence that follows he can hear your heart stutter and then stop.

"No, no!" He shakes your shoulders trying to rouse you again but you don't wake up.

Finally the medical finds his way to your group. He begins cpr immediately. After ten minutes he stops and calls it. "I'm sorry, there is nothing more I can do. Her injuries are extensive. With the rib fractures and lung puncrure alone, I can't perform the surgery here. She'd die of infection. I'm so sorry for your loss." He gets up quietly and retreats.

Sylus sits there holding you, unable to accept that you are leaving him permanently. "No, you aren't leaving me behind again. Not this time." He said ans leans over to lay you back down on the ground.

*******************************************************

As you sit next to Sylus and Caleb, quietly observing the procession a strange feeling comes over you. "Is this how it feels for everyone to believe you're dead?" You ask softly. Sylus only shrugs not offering a verbal response. "Can't say pipsqueak, I didn't attend my own funeral." You sigh, this was your own idea after all.

Almost the entire city of Linkon had shown up to pay respects to you today. Your services to the city were no small collection of deeds afterall. Captain Jenna had first suggested this after your miraculous recovery. Although he would not tell you how, Sylus had said you were connected now. If he dies, so too would you and vice versa. No amount of begging and pleading would budge him on the matter. Eventually you'd stopped asking.

Jenna had told you I'm detail what exactly was waiting for you if you returned to the Association Headquarters. A full scale investigation, dismissal as a hunter, possible jail time, and some other things.

Being pronounced dead however, the Association had organized this massive funeral service and posthumous award ceremony following the service. Few people would know that you had survived the ordeal with the Ignus wrymlord. The second known person to fight one and live to talk about it. Lumiere being the first and only other one.

"What am I going to do now? Being a hunter was all I'd ever wanted to do, even as a kid." Sylus takes your hand and squeezes it softly.

"Just stay." He looks down at you and kisses your forehead. "Just stay with me."

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 5

Sgt Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Good news! Gadriel and Ellie finally have a moment to talk alone.

Bad news! That quiet moment is taking place in a Drukhari ship.

If you missed part 4, you can catch up here :)

I know I probably sound like a broken record at this point, but I am so grateful for all the support this series has had so far. So, all you lovely people, thank you for reading, liking, reblogging and commenting <3

Once again, I've butchered the lore a little bit. But tbh I've been doing that this entire series so hopefully you guys are used to/expect that from me by now 😅

Violence and 40kness under the cut, as well as some light ellusions to some nsfwness at the start. Apologies for spelling and grammar errors, and thank you for your support :D

Love, Memestrider xoxo

When Gadriel walked through their bedroom door, Ellicent had known right away. She'd been dreading it. Praying that it wouldn't happen. But the moment she saw the look on his face, she'd known.

"You've been accepted," she said.

Gadriel closed the door behind him. He let out a tired sigh before turning to face her once more. "I asked if I could return home to say goodbye. They were reluctant, but said yes."

Ellicent closed her eyes. Her knees felt weak, and she sat on the bed lest they give out on her entirely. "Have you told your mother yet?"

Gadriel visibly recoiled from the question. "She said she was happy; that she was proud. But I could tell it was a lie. She wants me to leave about as much as you do."

"Can't say I blame her," Ellicent said.

Gadriel gave her a sad, sympathetic smile. It only infuriated Ellicent more. Taking a seat next to her, he clasped his hands in his lap, eyes fixed on the floor as if ashamed.

"I leave tomorrow," he said quietly.

Ellicent looked at him "Seriously? When?"

"First thing." Still, he refused to meet her gaze. "You and Mum probably won't even be awake yet."

Ellicent bit her lip as a wave of tears threatened to overwhelm her. She was so angry with him. So angry. Why did he have to be so selfless? Why did his heart have to be so noble that he would do something like this for the mere chance of making her and his mother's lives just a little bit better?

"So... What happens next?"

"Well, assuming I pass all of my trials and actually become an Astartes, I can request to have you both transferred to someplace in Ultramar."

"You can request? You mean, it isn't guaranteed?"

"I don't know. It's... It's not a commonly done thing, apparently." Chewing his cheek, Gadriel clenched his hand into fists. "But I'll make it happen. I promise I will."

"You better," Ellicent whispered. "If you can't, then this whole thing would have been for nothing."

They both lapsed into silence. Heavy, tense and melancholic. Tears were flowing freely down Ellicent's cheeks now. The grief she'd been anticipating for months now had broken free of its cage, and is now sewing painful knots in her belly and chest.

Why? She continued to ask herself. Why did it have to be like this? Why did he have to go?

"Ellie?" She felt Gadriel's hand wrap around hers. "Talk to me. Please."

Ellicent sniffed, wiping her eyes with her free hand. She met his gaze and found that he, too, had started to weep.

Her body moved without thinking. Throwing one leg over him, she straddled his lap before pulling him into the fiercest, most passionate kiss she thinks she's ever given him. It took him off guard. So much so, he almost fell backward onto the bed. But he didn't hesitate in returning it. Sliding his hands up her back, he gripped her nape hard, pressing her into him and working his mouth against hers.

The taste of him was wonderful. His scent and touch, the closest things to bliss Ellicent had ever had. And she was about to loose him. The world was trying to take him away. A sob rises into the back of Ellicent's throat. She had to break the kiss in order to let it out. Gadriel cradled her cheeks in his hands, pressed his forehead to hers. He let her take all the time she needed to catch her breath. His own, soft exhales were warm against Ellicent's lips.

Ellicent intertwines her fingers in his hair. It's tangled and coarse, and slightly damp from the humid air outside. But to Ellicent, it's as soft and beautiful as silk.

"I want more, Gadriel," she whispers.

She feels his brows furrow against her forehead. "Do... Do you mean?"

"I do."

"Are you sure?"

She'd expected him to be hesitant. While they had shared a bed for as long as Ellicent had been living with Gadriel and his mother, they'd never slept together. Not for a lack of attraction, of course; Gadriel was easily pretty enough to pass as a high lord's son, and even before he'd started training for the Astartes, his body was a well-sculpted work of soft muscle and olive skin; and while Ellicent is less certain of her own physical attributes, Gadriel has told her time and time again how stunning her figure is, how her eyes reminded him of falling stars.

But even so, their relationship had always been built on emotional intimacy- sex was a line they were yet to crossed.

But Ellicent couldn't wait any longer.

"I am," she said in reply to his question. "I want you, Gadriel. I love you. And if the world is so determined to take you from me tomorrow, I want to have you tonight." Gently, she covers his hands with her own, brushing her thumb across his knuckles. "But of course, all of that is moot unless you'll have me too."

Gadriel's reply is instant. "Of course I will."

"Then please," Ellicent whispered. She pressed her palm against his chest. Felt his now-racing heart beating against her skin.

"Take me."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Welcome to the Dark Star," Ellie says quietly. She hugs her legs a little tighter, resting her temple on her knees so she is facing him.

It's only then that Gadriel notices she's missing her left arm.

"Where's your prostethic?" he asks.

Ellie glances at her empty shoulder socket. Her expression, like her voice, is totally flat. "They took it. Weren't keen on the idea of locking me up with my hyperphase sword." She raps her knuckles on her right knee, making a soft clanging sound. "Let me keep my leg, though. So that's something, I guess."

"But why?" Gadriel asks. "I mean, why are you even here? I thought these xenos were allied with you."

Ellie meets his gaze. Something hot flashes behind her eyes. "They're allied with Severus. Not me."

"But do you not work for him?"

Her next words come out laced with poison. "More like I'm indentured to him."

Despite himself, her words leave Gadriel feeling relieved. I knew it, he thinks. She's not here by choice. She's not a traitor."

"But I see your point," she continues. "And typically, it'd be right: Severus does keep the Dark Eldar off me. But then I fired off that flare and..."

She lapses back into morose silence. Gadriel feels a twinge in his chest unrelated to any of his wounds.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"Don't be," Ellie replies. "It's not your fault. I knew what I was doing, how he would react. I'm just sorry you got hurt because of it."

Gadriel swallows thickly. "I... I'm not just talking about that."

Ellie cocks her head for a moment. "What are you..." Her face suddenly drops. "Oh. Right."

The sad silence returns. Ellie's eyes drop to the floor as she fiddles with a crack in the floor. Small ribbons of light catch her cheeks; tear streaks, Gadriel realises.

He forces himself to take a breath. From the moment he'd seen her again, the same terrible question has been plaguing his mind. But he can't hide from it any longer. Not when they may be so close to death.

"What happened to you, Ellie?" Gadriel asks. "How did you end up involved with... with people like this?"

Her reply is sharp as a blade. "It wasn't willingly. I can tell you that for nothing."

"I'd already guessed as much," Gadriel says gently. "But, truth be told, that only makes me more desperate to know how it all came to pass."

For a long while, Ellie is silent.

"Are you sure?" she finally asks.

The way she says it makes Gadriel's throat close over. "Yes," he answers. "Please."

Ellie goes quiet again. Her gaze returns to the cold, dank floor. "About six months after you left," she says. "Your mother died. Same sickness that killed my Dad. I couldn't stay in the house after that. Too much loss. I swear I could feel it coming out of the walls."

A twinge of grief pangs in Gadriel's chest. He'd already assumed that his mother was likely dead by now- if not from disease, then certainly from age. But nevertheless, the confirmation from Ellie still stings.

"I lived off the streets after that," she continues. "You know, stealing from topsiders, raiding trash piles, fighting for the best abandoned building to sleep in for the night; all the standard type stuff." She lets out a sigh. "Then Severus showed up.

"I don't know how much you know about him, from your mission briefing or whatever, but his main shtick is that he's a slaver. A trafficker. He and his cronies zip around the galaxy, visiting feral hive worlds and plucking healthy-looking vagrants off the streets to... Well, to do whatever he wants."

Gadriel swallows the lump in his throat. "And he..."

"Yup."

"Throne, Ellie."

With her one remaining shoulder, Ellie shrugs. "Wasn't just me. He probably took about a hundred people in the end. I was taken in my sleep. Hit over the head, woke up in the belly of some disgusting cargo bay." Briefly, she looks around her cell. "It wasn't too dissimilar to this, actually. Except a lot less roomy, with more people crammed inside. Most of the people Severus takes are to sell- that's what he's allied with the Dark Eldar for. But sometimes, he'll come across someone he takes a liking to, and he'll keep them as his own."

Once more, Gadriel's mouth fills with acidic bile, and the corners of his vision turn from black to red. When Ellie sees the look on his face, she forces a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it wasn't like that. Not with me, anyway. Only reason he liked me was 'cause I could handle myself in a fight. He saw a killer in me, not a play-thing. Probably the only stroke of luck I've had during this whole thing."

The only thing Gadriel can think to do is nod. "How about your arm and leg?" he asks. "How'd you loose them?"

"I didn't loose them," Ellie says. "Severus took them."

"He took them?"

She nods. "He'd have taken the others too, if he'd had enough necron parts lying around. But he only had a left arm and right leg, so that was all he could replace." She touches her empty shoulder socket. A soft, harsh laugh slips from her lips. "Another stroke of luck on my part, I guess.

"He made me his hit-man," she continues. "His errand girl."Defend this cargo, Ellicent. Kill this officer, Ellicent. I've got a pack of space marines coming after me, so set a trap for 'em and kill them for me, Ellicent. If you refuse me again, I'll let the Drukhari have you, and you'll be begging me to take you back." That was my life. For fifty years. And the cybernetics, they affected the rest of my body. Hardened my bones, slowed my aging right down. Meant death was hard to come by; even when I wanted it to."

Her voice is so full of emotion, it almost sounds devoid of it. Like an overloaded fuse, there is so much pain in her words, she can't possibly express it anymore. Gadriel's eyes well with tears. He can't stand this. All of these things happening to Ellicent. His Ellie. The girl he's loved from the moment he was old enough to understand what love even was.

All these things have happened to her, and I didn't save her. I didn't even try.

The silence that falls between them is a physical presence, one of hurt, foreboding and grief. Gadriel's wounds continue to scream at him, but compared to those coming from his hearts, they're little more than whimpers.

"So," Ellie mutters. "Now that you know all of that, I have to ask..."

Gadriel closes his eyes. He waits for her next words he were waiting for an executioner's axe to fall.

"Do you still remember the night before you left?"

The question takes him completely off-guard. And the memory it brings... Gadriel can't help but smile. "Of course," he says.

Ellie nods. "Do you remember what you said to me? When it's was all over?"

As quickly as it had come, his smile dies. "I said I loved you."

"Before that."

Gadriel averts his eyes. "I said I'd come back."

"No," Ellie replies. "You didn't just say it. You promised me. You looked me in the eye and you swore it."

"... I... I know."

"So why didn't you?"

Gadriel goes to chew the inside of his cheek, but winces as his teeth grate broken, bleeding skin. Seems the Dark Eldar's poison has kept even that wound from closing, too.

"And don't lie to me, okay?" Ellie adds. Her tone isn't accusatory; instead, it's almost a plea. "I don't want... poor excuses or anything like that. I just want the truth. No matter what it is. Surely I deserve that, at least."

"Of course you do," Gadriel says.

Ellie doesn't reply, but her silence indicates she's waiting for him to continue.

Gadriel looks down at his hands. Already, they're slick again with his own blood.

He takes a deep breath, ignoring the pangs of protest the movement sparks from his wounds, and clenches his hands into fists. "Do you know what re-education is?" he asks.

"No," she answers.

"It's the psychological aspect of Astartes' creation. Just as thorough and invasive as the surgeries and the physical training. But, arguably, it's more important than both."

He hears Ellie shift in her seat. "I don't think I like where this is going," she mutters.

Gadriel exhales hard through his nose. This time, the spike of pain that follows is enough to make him grimace. "I didn't even know it was a part of the process until it was happening to me," he says. "But if I did... I don't think I'd have joined."

The astonishment is Ellie's voice is tangible. "Do you really mean that?"

"I told you I wouldn't lie, didn't I?"

For a while, Ellie is quiet. "What did they do?" she asks softly.

Gadriel closes his eyes. His thoughts suddenly don't feel like his own. The very thing he's trying to tell her about, it doesn't want him to. It's fighting him. Filling his lungs with stones so he cannot speak, hijacking his thoughts to he cannot remember. But Gadriel refuses it. Pulling his eyes up from his fists, he looks at Ellie's face, takes in her scarlet hair and twinkling eyes. He uses them as anchors. As lifelines. For fifty years he's let this thing stand between him and the one he loves. He'll be damned if he's going to let it happen again.

"We were hypnotised," he says. "Then for days, we were fed these pict-casts and vox-recordings. I don't know what they were, but they had been developed by psycho encoders. They were meant to indoctrinate us, I suppose. I don't really remember much from those weeks, only that it was... unpleasant. I remember my throat being very sore after the end of every session. Like all I'd done the entire time was scream."

"You probably did," Ellie says quietly.

Gadriel doesn't respond to that. He doesn't know how. "After that," he continues, dropping his gaze again. "They let Librarians- psykers- into our minds. Again, I... don't really know what they did. But as I think about it now... It was after I'd had those sessions that my life before the Astartes became difficult to recall."

"Difficult how?"

"As in, it felt like a dream," Gadriel says. "Like a fantasy. You and Mum- you were... figments of my imagination. You weren't real. Nothing that came before my becoming an Astartes was real."

"Until you saw me again," Ellie whispers.

Gadriel feels tears prick his eyes. "Until I saw you again. After that, everything came back with startling clarity."

He musters the courage to look at her again. The expression he finds on her face almost breaks him.

"So..." she whispers. "So you never abandoned me."

It's not a question, so much as a statement. Tears roll down her cheeks again, but there's a smile on her face.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Gadriel pushes himself off the wall. He crawls up to the bar wall on his knees, collapsing against it as consciousness threatens to leave him once again. Grimacing, he clutches one hand on the hole in his stomach. But the other, finds Ellie's hand. "If I had known I would've been forced to forget you," he rasps. "I'd have never joined the Astartes. I mean that. From the bottom of both my hearts, I mean it."

Ellie chokes on a stifled sob. Bringing his hand to her lips, she kisses his knuckles. "I'm sorry, Gadriel. I'm sorry I doubted you. I never should've. I should've known-"

"You should've known no such thing," Gadriel murmurs. "And you had every right to resent me."

Tears are rolling down his cheeks now, too. Dropping his hand, Ellie sidles up closer, reaches through the bars and gently wipes them away with her thumb. Her skin is rough with callouses- far more so than he ever remembered. But right now, it's the softest, more comforting thing Gadriel has felt in a long time.

"If these bars weren't in the way I would kiss you right now," Ellie says.

Gadriel smiles softly. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

Footsteps outside his cell make both of them turn.

Long shadows creep up the hallway's wall, moving in time with the steps. Gadriel doesn't need to wait, however, to know exactly who they belong to.

"Wakey wakey, space marine!" The voice is gravelly, feminine, and undeniably inhuman. "Someone wants to see you."

The Dark Eldar wyche prowls up the Gadriel's cell door, clad in leather and bone and wielding a spear. She unlocks the door with a click, before dragging it open and slipping inside.

"No," Ellie says, gripping Gadriel's hand.

Gadriel pulls free to cup her cheek. "Let go, Ellie. It's okay."

"No it isn't. It's-"

Through the bars, the wyche slams the butt of her spear into Ellie's face. Gadriel shouts her name, but the word devolves into a cry as the dark eldar kicks him in his wounded side. "Come on now," she purrs. "Cut that out. There'll be plenty of time for screaming later."

Dark spots flash before Gadriel's vision. The agony in his side is so intense, he can barely even draw breath. Grabbing him by the back of his undersuit's collar, the wyche drags him from his cell. The furious, desperate screams of Ellie follows them all the way down the hall.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I'm sorry to have to do another cliff hanger. The wait for part 6 shouldn't be too long, I promise.

Thanks again for reading, and please let me know what you think of the story so far! Your comments and tags are literally food for my soul ^^

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi @justfreakynothingelse

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[alatusprinz]

when you call him good boy .

characters: wanderer/scaramouche, kaedehara kazuha, albedo, xiao

genre: smut, (warning of explicit words choice)

-

Scaramouche/Wanderer sneers at you mockingly when the words fall from your mouth. His grip on your hips tightened as he snapped his hips into your behind roughly, deliberately thrusting in so deep so your back arches with your face buried into the pillow. He hated when your needy moans were silenced when it wasn’t on his accord, making him reach out to grip onto your hair roughly to pull your body up while holding onto your neck with his other hand, forcing you to find balance in an awkward position with your knees on the mattress and back against his chest. His hips never halted one bit, still thrusting in relentlessly into your drenched walls as your mind blanked out from the dizzying stimulation. Tightening his grip on your neck, he leans into your ear, almost purring in a sickeningly sweet voice. 

"Fuck, you like that don't you? Like being used like a little dolly for me?" You whimpered weakly as your scalp slightly burned from his tight grip, your body moving to meet his slams involuntarily from the force of his each thrust. It always felt like this, almost too good, too overwhelming from the borderline ruthless way he fucked you. As your broken moans persisted and he wanted to see you break down more, let go of your hair with a satisfied smirk and instead held onto both your wrists to pull your body back to meet his hips, manhandling you and taking you as he pleased.

His grip on your wrists tightened as pulled them back to slam your ass to his hips over and over, your cunt almost sore and aching from how he used you like a toy for his pleasure.

“Yeah? Fuck, call me that again, let me know how much of a good boy I am being.” 

-

Kazuha’s gaze was always starstruck and almost drunk in love when he was staring at you as he slipped into your snug walls over and over. He was so hypnotized by you, completely allured more every second you two spent together. And he never knew he could fall even deeper until you looked at him with that sultry gaze, mouth open and making the prettiest sounds for him, and called him your good boy. Your good boy. An infatuated smile blossoming on his face, his cock pressed in deep, then he moved in a grinding motion slightly as you squirmed and mewled in pleasure. He was looking at you with heart in his eyes, completely enchanted and greedy to see more of your beauty. Nobody could ever compare or hold a candle to how beautiful you looked under him when he made love to you.

That’s right- he almost whimpers at your word as his hold on your waist tightened, immediately pressing his lips onto yours. His kiss was needy, desperate to feel you in his arms, if there was anything in this world that he couldn’t lose ever, it would undoubtedly be you. Kazuha’s heart feels like it would leap out any moment now as he rolls his hips into yours, trying his best to go sensual and slow although his patience was running thin every time your breathy moans graced his ears. His lips lowered to your neck, warm breath tickling your skin, and he whispered. 

“All yours my love, all yours… Your good boy, yours…” 

-

A soft moan leaves Albedo’s mouth in pleasant surprise at the praise he hears from you. His inquisitive gaze never leaves your face, in fact his sight never seemed to focus on anything else other than your pretty expressions when he made love to you. The way your eyes fluttered shut when his tip brushes over your sensitive spot (one he knows all too well by now), the differences in your moans when he grinds into you, slowly pushes as deep as he can to drag upon your tender spot, or when he sometimes indulge his greed and slams into you harder and faster as your nails scratched into his back- all of your precious reactions are recorded in his mind like a rewound tape. 

You called him good boy- his pupils dilated visibly if you had half the mind to notice, and suddenly he was all the more determined to please you more. His mouth latched onto your nipple, one hand gripping onto your waist as he rutted inside your warm walls, pleasured groans leaving his lips while he sucked on harder. You swore sight blurred as his other hand was suddenly rubbing over your clit, circling and flicking the way he knew you moaned the prettiest for him. He knew your body better than you did by now, Albedo took silent pride in that fact. And he intended on being a good boy for you every day and night, whenever you desire him.  

- Xiao almost gets too pleasure-driven from the moment your lips are on his more sensually, from the second your touches turn suggestive. His eyes are always clouded over with lust, desire and admiration towards you, he is hardly even lucid when he finally pushes into your eager walls, he can never control himself fully once he had a taste of you- all that mattered to him was you, your moans, and your face twisting in pleasure. That’s why when you first called him your good boy, he didn’t even hear it. His one hand was pressing yours to the mattress, fingers entwined as he rammed inside needily, it felt so good, he wanted to be buried inside your snug walls forever- this insatiable lust transfers over to his actions because as much as he tries, he can’t seem to be too gentle and from the way you moan sharply each time he slams in and his cock rubs against your insides just right, Xiao couldn’t find it in him to slow down anyways.

His fingers laced with yours on one hand, indirectly holding you down in place with how with each thrust made your linked hands sink down onto the sheets, and his other holding onto your hip so tight it felt like it would bruise,. You muttered out a weak “good boy” once more- this time he heard it all too well. He groaned in pleasure at your words, at your beauty or your tight cunt he couldn’t tell, all he knew was he had to give you more, make you take more of him. His lips are on your neck and his sharp teeth sank down on the side, his lustful panting and deep moans ringing in your ear. Your wince of pain was drowned out in the high-pitched whiny moan when his claws unintentionally dug onto your hips as he forced your walls to take all of him, slamming his hips to yours desperately like he would die if he didn’t engrave the feeling of your warmth around him inside his mind. Your sweet moans always made his heart flutter, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he bit down harder on your neck, rutting into you as though to remind you that you’re all his, and he’d be your ‘good boy’ always and forever.

[kaiser1ns]

#. KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, suo hayato, kaji ren, togame jo, takiishi chika, endo yamato

fluff. since when did you dream of a first kiss with the boy you like. and the chance finally came, but not everything turned out as imagined.

up to 500-600 words per scenario, i tried my best, sorry i'm still trying to describe romantic scenes womp womp, like and subscribe!

UMEMIYA HAJIME

You are so in love with this man that you can't get enough. Literally, you can't get enough of the way he is so oblivious to the hints you drop every single day. He is laughing yet again at something, surrounded by Furin first years and Hiragi at Kotoha's cafe. The desire to smack him on the head and tell him he is so stupid grows faster than the vegetables in his garden. Only Kotoha seems to notice your gloomy mood — you haven't touched the food she prepared, and it makes her worry.

"I'm going to give up if he doesn't do something soon," you tell your best friend, your voice tinged with frustration.

She pats your hand reassuringly. "It'll be okay. Don't mind Hajime's antics. Boys take time to develop, you know."

You thank her and finish your food, but you still want to go home. Being in his presence feels draining right now. You quietly say goodbye to Kotoha and immediately leave, while she wonders what she can do to help you out.

You aren't far away when you hear running footsteps behind you and the voice you knew all too well. "Y/N, wait for me, please!" It's Umemiya, running worriedly towards you. You turn to face him as he pants from the exertion. "Kotoha said you wanted to talk about something with me. Is that why you left?"

Oh my, this girl. How dare she does this to you? You didn't want to tell him, you were supposed to be mad at him. "It seems that I have forgotten what I was going to say," you murmur, turning on your heel to walk away again. But he hugs you from behind, his grip strong and tight, your back against his chest.

"You wanted to have your first kiss, right?" There it goes, your best friend spilled everything to her brother. "I've noticed everything you did to indicate your wants and needs. I was just waiting for the right moment, when we aren't with people, like this ..."

He lets you go, turning you around and kissing you. His eyes are closed, but yours widen in surprise. The feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your back makes you relax. You're a blushing mess, a whirlwind of butterflies and emotions coursing through you. Hands find their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat race as fast as yours.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness you've longed to see. "I'm sorry it took me so long," he murmurs, his voice soft and sincere. You smile, your heart swelling with the butterflies going there instead. "You better make it up for all the waiting."

He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I guess I am a bit dense, huh?" You laugh, the sound light and genuine, laying your head on his chest and hearing his heartbeat once again as he hugged you "Just a bit."

As he walks you to your home, hand in hand, you can't help but think about Kotoha and how she played Cupid, knowing exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t.

SAKURA HARUKA

You’ve heard it all before, the endless litany of self-deprecation and doubt that spills from Sakurs’s lips like a broken record. It’s a familiar routine by now, his recounting of how he doesn’t deserve kindness or acceptance, how your sweetness to him feels misplaced. His voice wavers with each confession, half-hoping you’ll agree and half-fearing you’ll walk away.

“I don’t get why you’re so nice to me,” he says for the umpteenth time, eyes downcast. “I don’t deserve it.” Your eye twitches. You’ve had enough. The words repeat in your head, grating on your nerves. You care about him deeply, but his lack of self-worth is starting to drive you insane. He’s strong, capable, a fighter in every sense of the word—except when it comes to himself.

“Oh my god, Sakura, stop with this bullshit,” you snap, sharper than you intended. He blinks, taken aback. “Hah!?”

“Stop talking about yourself like that. It’s so frustrating. ‘I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve that.’” You mimic his tone, letting your irritation seep through. His eyes narrow, anger mixing with confusion. "Huh!?" He clenches his fists, the familiar motion of cracking his knuckles following. It’s a gesture meant to intimidate, but you’ve seen it too many times to be scared. “Shut up before I make you,” you threaten.

He meets your gaze gaze, unflinching. “Make me then. Let your fists do the talking.”

That’s it. The breaking point. You stand up abruptly, closing the distance between you. He braces himself, expecting a fight. You can see the conflict in his eyes, torn between his instinct to fight and his deep-seated fear of hurting you. Instead, you grab his face with both hands and pull him into a kiss. It’s sudden, forceful, and completely unexpected. His body tenses up, then melts against you, stunned into silence.

When you pull back, his face is a shade of red you didn’t think was possible to achieve. He’s a mess of incoherent sounds, his mind clearly struggling to process what just happened. “W-what… Huh!?”

“You shouldn’t talk so much crap,” you say calmly, sitting back down. “It’ll lead you to problems.”

He stands there, dazed and silent, a stark contrast to his usual self. You relish the quiet, the absence of his self-doubt hanging in the air. Finally, a moment of peace. Sakura haven't said a word all day, lost in his thoughts. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, hoping that your impulsive act has left an impression, that maybe he’ll start to see himself the way you see him.

SUO HAYATO

The boy himself, the living legend of making people accept his requests with his teasing smile, is sitting next to you. His beautiful dark brown eyes make you melt like chocolate left out in the hot sun. Suo Hayato, the enigma from the neighboring school, is here in your living room, surrounded by your scattered chemistry notes. You begged him for help with your homework, and in his usual style, he agreed with a condition. You, expecting another teacake request, readily agreed.

The two of you sit on the floor, papers spread out across the table. Hayato explains the properties of alkaline metals and their reactions. His hand occasionally brushes against yours, sending a jolt through your system each time. He notices your reactions, the subtle glances you steal, the way you tense and relax. He is enjoying himself, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“And that’s all. I’m sure you’ll ace the test, L/N-san,” he concludes with a smile.

A few days later, you find yourself beaming as you show him your test. Maximum points. You’re the only student with a perfect score, and Hayato knows it. His smile widens, and his eyes gleam with satisfaction.

“I knew you’d do it. But don’t you forget something?” he prompts.

Ah, yes, his reward. “No, I didn’t forget, Suo-kun.” You reach into your bag and pull out a box of homemade teacakes. “Here, just the way you like them.” He takes the box, smiling with one eye closed, the other hidden beneath his signature eyepatch. “Oh, thank you very much. So kind as always.” he pauses “But I wanted something sweeter.”

Confused, you stand there trying to figure out what he means. Wasn’t he on a diet? Perhaps you should brew him some tea. He chuckles, observing you and most possibly reading your thoughts.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want freshly brewed tea.” His voice is soft, but there's an edge to it. How does he always know what you’re thinking? Does he know you wanted to kiss him while you studied? His perceptiveness is both thrilling and intimidating.

“So what do you want?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. He closes the distance between you in a heartbeat. “You.”

Before you can process his words, his lips are on yours, warm and insistent. Your bag slips from your shoulder, landing with a soft thud. The kiss is everything you imagined and more, a perfect blend of surprise and inevitability. You feel the chemistry, the undeniable connection between element Suo and element Y/N, strong and unbreakable.

You pull away, still in shock, as he steps back. His hands are behind his back, holding the box of teacakes, but his eyes are fixed on you. He turns to leave, but glances back over his shoulder.

“I’ll be waiting for more chemistry tests to help you out,” he says, a promise in his voice. And you know, without a doubt, that his request will always be met.

KAJI REN

You had always admired the way Kaji Ren seemed to be in his own world, headphones clamped over his ears and a strawberry lollipop lazily balanced between his lips. He was lost in thought, probably wondering about you, always worried—if you needed help, how your day went, if there was someone he needed to deal with for you. His obliviousness gave you the perfect opportunity. You appeared in front of him and, snatching the lollipop from his mouth, putting it in your own.

"What the—" His initial reaction was irritation, a typical Kaji Ren tantrum brewing, until he saw you standing there, and that devilish look in your eyes. You were still in your school uniform, like you always are when he waits to walk you home.

"Oh, strawberry one. My favorite." You teased, a smile tugging at your lips. He scoffed, too tired to engage in your banter, as started walking behind you, when you suddenly stopped. Before he could react, you snatched his headphones and dashed off.

You were fast, but Kaji was faster. In a heartbeat, he caught up, slamming you gently against the nearest wall, his arms caging you in. You looked up at him, a devilish grin on your face.

"Now, what, Ren?" you taunted, breathless.

For a moment, he just stared, as if trying to figure out his next move. Then, in a move that surprised both of you, he grabbed the lollipop from your mouth and tossed it on the ground. His lips crashed onto yours with a hunger and urgency that sent the butterflies right into your stomach. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, tasting the sweet strawberry flavor that lingered on your lips.

You kissed back with equal hunger, your hands tangling in his hair. Time seemed to stand still as you both poured everything into that kiss. When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, as you stared at the blonde boy.

"Do you want to try an apple flavor next time?" you asked, a teasing once again.

"Shut up," he muttered, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. He snatched his headphones back and started walking again, but you weren’t ready to let go just yet. You ran up to him and slipped your hand into his. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, but instead, he squeezed your hand tightly.

TOGAME JO

You never go into Shishitoren territory without Togame. He’s your personal bodyguard, a very fine one at that, and he insists on accompanying you every time. Texting him is a lost cause—he never responds. At least, that’s what he wants you to believe, even though your texts are the only ones he ever reads. So, you always call to tell him you are under the bridge, waiting for him.

Tonight, the two of you are wandering down a bustling street, searching for a pub to settle in. The crowd is big at this time of the night, and Togame keeps his hand firmly on your waist, ensuring you stay close. Despite him wanting to keep you close and safe, you are always slipping away, and it drives him crazy.

You meander through, your curiosity piqued by a very interesting shop window. Something inside catches your eye, and you pause to admire it. Meanwhile, he is frantic, scanning the crowd for any sign of you. When he finally spots you, relief floods his body, quickly replaced by an angry expression. The Shishitoren vice-capitain makes a note to buy the item for you tomorrow, but now is not the time. He strides over and grabs your hand, pulling you towards a quieter, more secluded area.

“What if something happened to you? Do you know how much I’d regret that?” His usual slow, measured speech is now rapid and laced with frustration.

You look down, guilt washing over you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He sighs heavily, his expression softening as he sees your sad face. Gently, he tilts your chin up, his fingers brushing away the few tears that have escaped. “Don’t cry now, pretty girl.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss. You hadn’t expected your first kiss to happen like this, in a quiet, dimly lit alley, but it’s with Togame Jo, and that’s all that matters.

His hands cradle your face, thumbs tracing soothing patterns on your skin. You close your eyes, relaxing in his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. It is soft, tender, and unhurried. There’s no rush, no urgency—just the two of you in this moment. His lips are warm, and he takes his time, savoring the feel of you, as butterflies made their way to your stomach. When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless, faces mere inches apart.

He presses his forehead against yours, a small smile playing making its way, reassuring you that everything was fine, “Just... don’t do that again, okay?”

You nod, still dazed from the kiss. He entwines his fingers with yours, leading you back to the crowded street, but this time, his grip is gentler, more safe. The bustling city seems a little less overwhelming with him by your side, and you can’t help but smile, stealing glances at him, your heart fluttering with every step. Togame catches your eye and squeezes your hand, his own smile growing wider.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

He showed up at your house, knocking on the window as you sighed, getting up from your bed. You, of course, let him in, seeing how he was again stained with blood that was not his. It was the same every time: he came to you so you could patch him up, fix him, give him a shower, change of clothes and a place to sleep in. You never ask questions, and he never offers explanations. Tonight is no different as you sit in his lap, bandaging his face and hands.

You're not a couple; you're not anything. It’s complicated. There are unspoken words between you, a delicate balance that neither of you dares to disrupt. As you sit on his lap and clean his face, you find yourself closer than before. His yellow eyes, intense and piercing, lock onto yours, heart races, each beat echoing in your ears. You’re getting closer, inch by inch. Hesitation grips you, your breath caught in your throat.

"Don't move." Just as you think of pulling away, his hand moves behind your head, gently but firmly pushing you forward. Your lips meet his in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s surprising, the gentleness of it, especially coming from someone as fiery and unpredictable as Chika. The kiss is brief, a fleeting moment that feels that for once you were something. When it ends, you pull back slightly, searching his eyes for any hint of what this meant to him. But his expression is the same as every day. And then you are back to becoming nothing.

For you, it meant everything. It’s a confirmation of the connection you’ve always felt but never acknowledged. But what did it mean for him? You're not sure, and you don't dare to ask. Not now. Maybe not ever. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. You can think about this later. Right now, he still needs you. You focus on his injuries, cleaning and bandaging.

Chika watches you work, his eyes never leaving your face. You can feel the weight of his gaze, and it only makes you more aware of your own feelings. But you don’t let it distract you. You finish bandaging his hands and move to check for any other injuries, your fingers brushing against his skin, meanwhile, he gently caresses your thighs with his thumbs leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

When you’re done, you lean back, surveying your work. He looks a bit better now, though still battered and bruised. You meet his eyes again, and this time there’s something different there. Something softer, more vulnerable — a golden hue reflects the dim light, adding a warm, almost ethereal quality to the sun.

“There all done,” you say quietly, unable to trust your voice to say more. You stand up, as you don't want to leave his embrace but you have to clean up the supplies scattered around and prepare a bath. As you move around the room to get him new clothes you can feel his eyes on you, following your every move. You wonder if he’s thinking about the kiss, about what it meant. You wonder if he feels the same confusion, the same longing, the same love.

ENDO YAMATO

The wind lifting strands of his dark hair and whipping them around his face. He’s talking about something, his tattooed hands tracing patterns in the air. But you’re not listening. You’re caught up in the way his lips move, the curve of his smile, the glimmering in his eyes.

"...and Takiishi was there, you know? Doing that thing he always does," Endo continues, oblivious to your silent longing. Takiishi Chika. Again. You frown, a little annoyed now. Why does he always have to bring up Chika?

"Endo," you say, softly at first, hoping to catch his attention. He doesn’t notice.

"Takiishi’s just so unpredictable. I never know what he’s going to do next."

"Endo," you repeat, louder this time. Still, he’s lost in his own world, his words tumbling out like the wind itself, unstoppable and carefree.

"And then, Takiishi—"

"Endo!" You say it sharply, frustration bubbling up inside you. He finally pauses, blinking at you in surprise. You take a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, before he can say anything, you reach up and grab his collar, pulling him down to your height. His eyes widen in shock, but you don’t give him time to react. You press your lips to his, silencing him in the most effective way you know.

Feeling his lips against yours, the taste of his breath mingling with your own. It’s not perfect. It’s rushed and a little clumsy, your noses bump awkwardly, and you can feel him tense. But it’s real. It’s happening. And it’s better than any dream.

When you finally pull away, he’s staring at you, confusing and amusing gaze. His hands, still raised from his gesticulations, hover in the air, uncertain.

"Ah," he says, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I’m not good at judging people, am I?" You laugh, knowing how he chooses people and how his expectations are later contradicted, that right now is happening with you, "No," you agree, your voice soft. "You’re really not."

He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "Sorry. I guess I was talking too much."

"A little," you admit, your heart still racing. "But it’s okay."

He steps closer, his hand brushing against yours, indicating his motives. "Can I try again?" he asks, his voice quieter now, the playful edge gone. You nod, your breath hitching in your throat. "Please."

This time, when he kisses you, it’s slower, more deliberate. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin as you live your dream.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[astonmartinii]

i can do it with a broken heart [guilty as sin part three] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

life goes on after a bombshell but this silence isn't mysterious it's ominous

MASTERLIST | GUILTY AS SIN MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,304,509 others

yourusername: don't tell lies about me and i won't tell truths about you

view all comments

user164: oh holy moly this is so much worse than i thought

user165: i don't think i can ever look at those men the same ever again

user166: SEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS FOR FAVOURS?

user167: my mouth dropped open when i read that

user168: so like not to be insensitive but like who do we think it was

maxverstappen1: so like y/n obviously can't talk on this because she needs her silence but my big mouth will remain open they tried it on me that's why she mentions that she managed to make friends.

user169: what the fuck

maxverstappen1: they thought that i would be an easy target because i was so young but jokes on them i've always been taken advantage of so i saw that from a mile away (also y/n didn't want to so that obviously helped)

user170: that is actually insane like her and max are the same age so that would've made her so young i hope to god that they didn't try it with anyone older

maxverstappen1: they did but by the time they realised that it hadn't worked on me y/n had allies and fernando and seb were not about to let any of that happen

user171: thank the lord she had some friends when people control your money you'll do anything

fernandoalo_oficial: she became my daughter the moment that i saw them try and offer their family to some of the older men in the paddock

user172: i am actually in shock this was a "oh gosh this is so dramatic situation" but now it's just "holy shit i kinda need to see these guys in jail"

fernandoalo_oficial: me and you both

user173: i'm going to need ferrari to let charles out of the cage for this one

user174: kinda expected him to be in the comments supporting her i'm not going to lie

user175: he's in the likes?

user176: girl? his girlfriend is being sued by his own family and is confessing that she was offered round the paddock like a prize cow i feel like he should be actively voicing his support

oscarpiastri: you're loved and have the full support of the paddock

maxverstappen1: we're behind you 100% of the way

olliebearman: nothing but full support for you mum

pierregasly: we're all here for you no matter what we're allowed to say

fernandoalo_oficial: 🫶

sebastianvettel: it'll all work out in the end

user177: still no charles ???

user178: eh i feel like pierre is confirming charles' support in his place

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 835,923 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

maxverstappen1: i'm missing my best friend has anyone seen her?

view all comments

user179: oh good i was just about to lose it from y/n and max withdrawals

user180: at least one of the trio of dumbasses is keeping us fed

yourusername: i miss you toooooooooo :( (reply fast my lawyer has gone to the bathroom)

maxverstappen1: hurry up and win your lawsuit so we can go back to kicking ass and drinking gin and tonics

yourusername: i'm trying 🤞

maxverstappen1: and if i said it's time to red wedding them?

yourusername: i think we would be swiftly arrested

maxverstappen1: they can't arrest us our face cards are too strong

yourusername: well one of us is currently in court so what does that say about my face card

charles_leclerc: THAT YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL REGARDLESS FUCK THEM

this comment was liked by the author and @yourusername

this comment was deleted

user181: so is that like confirmation that charles is back in PR jail in maranello

user182: right i understand that he's literally employed by them but like he's also a grown ass man who can speak up

user183: like i know max isn't obviously at ferrari and isn't contractually obligated to be teammates with carlos but even he's out here slamming him

user184: and oscar who's only in his SECOND year in the sport

oscarpiastri: bold assumption that you're the best friend max

maxverstappen1: let's not get too rowdy piastri i can deal with you as the 'child' - you cannot be a bestie as well

oscarpiastri: i don't think that's the exact rules

maxverstappen1: you'll soon learn that I MAKE THE RULES AROUND HERE BUSTER

oscarpiastri: i can't wait for y/n to kick their asses so she can come back and KICK YOURS FOR ME

maxverstappen1: she would NEVER

oscarpiastri: okay maybe she wouldn't, but my dad on the other hand ...

liked by @charles_leclerc

user185: charles just PLEASE GET ON THE MIC

user186: i'm about to lose my patience i'm not going to lie

user187: guys we have to remember that this is a complicated situation with a lot of different moving parts, as long as charles is there for her in REAL LIFE it doesn't matter what we're seeing

liked by @yourusername

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, user190 and 308,994 others

carlossainz55: what was it you said? all is fair in love and poetry.

view all comments

user191: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

user192: not the childhood dog too ???

user193: these are unbelievable levels of hating

user194: i'd be impressed if he wasn't such an asshole

maxverstappen1: get fucked

carlossainz55: she shouldn't dish it out if she can't take it

maxverstappen1: she fell in love ?? and you thought that was a good excuse to take everything she's ever had

carlossainz55: she cost me my dream

maxverstappen1: as far i can remember, she's not on the fucking FERRARI BOARD GENIUS

carlossainz55: it's her pussy-whipped boyfriend that's the problem and she deserved this as soon as she choose him over her blood

maxverstappen1: you're insane and history will always remember you as the biggest crybaby loser to ever grace this sport

user195: so this ^^ is definitely referring to y/n's poetry

user196: are we living through scooter braun volume two

user197: @taylorswift PLEASE HELP

charles_leclerc: EAT SHIT I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL MAKE YOUR LIFE A LIVING HELL

this comment was deleted

charles_leclerc: you are the lowest of the low and you will get what is coming to you

this comment was deleted

charles_leclerc: there's only so long i have to stay silent and the people will know just the type of person you are

this comment was deleted

user198: so is like carlos deleting this comments or ferrari?

user199: i bet it's ferrari

user200: 1. can they stop being allergic to fun 2. i think this has gotten past the need to uphold image like these are your employees and this is serious actually

user201: also like silencing charles when its CARLOS BEING THE MESSY ONE HE IS ACTUALLY STILL YOUR EMPLOYEE

yourusername: old habits die screaming

carlossainz55: you can spout all the 'poetry' you want it'll all belong to me anyway

yourusername: i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning

user202: stealing poetry? now that's a new low

user203: i'm gonna need someone to take one for the team and put a cheeky front wing in his tyre

georgerussell63: well this sounds like a job for me

charles_leclerc

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 893,450 others

charles_leclerc: lets go racing.

view all comments

user206: is this even charles? where are the emojis? where is the excitement

user207: i think we might be witnessing a lil PR takeover after his deleted comments tirade under carlos' recent post

user208: you'd think they'd at least get his tone right like the rest of his account is RIGHT THERE

user209: charles leclerc's PR team we now have beef

liked by @yourusername

maxverstappen1: ugh you people are useless

oscarpiastri: i'm not going to lie i'm losing my patience

maxverstappen1: for real i'm gonna need this court case to finish up fast so we can get back to being a united front of haters

oscarpiastri: and then we can also wrestle charles' phone back by force

olliebearman: PLEASE KNOW THIS ISN'T ME I LOVE Y/N AND WE WILL LIVE TO KICK ASS AGAIN

user210: oh so they quite literally took his phone?

olliebearman: whoops

user210: ollie coming for kid of the year

olliebearman: i can't be told off for accidentally leaving my phone out while in the car and accidentally making my password something easy to remember and accidentally telling charles that his PR team had posted something - accident i swear

user211: @maxverstappen1 can you confirm they're still grossly in love?

maxverstappen1: i do have the letters to prove so but i think he's going insane with withdrawals

user212: that's it GET ME TO MARANELLO RIGHT THIS SECOND I HAVE A SCORE TO SETTLE

user213: yo i know we just got some confirmation from max but i can't help but think how lonely this must be for y/n

user214: for real if i was being sued by my family and had everything stolen from me i'd want more than some 'confirmation' through her bff in an instagram comment

carlossainz55: i hate to say i told you so @yourusername but that would be a lie i'm enjoying this so much

maxverstappen1: i want to fight you so bad but my therapist said that's bad

oscarpiastri: it's also illegal?

maxverstappen1: what's the point of being a rich white man oscar if i can't use to it to traverse the justice system and defend my bestie's honour

user215: @charles_leclerc get a backbone and do it like these two ^^

user216: i still have faith that he'll rain hell on that family when he's free

user217: well can he hurry the fuck up cause he's really shaping up to be the worst boyfriend of the year

user218: he has to get fucking loud HE CAN'T PROVE CARLOS RIGHT I DON'T WANT TO LIVE IN THAT WORLD

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 934,520 others

yourusername: i can do it with a broken heart

view all comments

user223: no no NO WE'RE NOT DOING ALL THIS GUESSING GAME SHIT WHAT WAS THE VERDICT?

user224: it's finished?

user225: that's what the spanish media are saying

user224: well in that case Y/N WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE YOUR POETRY BACK?

maxverstappen1: a wine evening without me? prison changed you

user225: SHE'S IN PRISON?

yourusername: STOP TELLING PEOPLE I'M IN JAIL

maxverstappen1: want me to put some money in the commissary so you can buy cigarettes?

yourusername: i don't even smoke and i'M NOT IN JAIL

maxverstappen1: now you've done time can you employ some stricter parenting on oscar and ollie, they've gotten unruly with both parents absent

yourusername: i'm not an absent mother :(

oscarpiastri: SHE'S VERY PRESENT SHE'S BEEN TO EVERY RECITAL SHE CAN IN HER CURRENT CIRCUMSTANCES

maxverstappen1: did you just refer to literal FORMULA ONE GRAND PRIXS AS RECITALS?

oscarpiastri: maybe i did

yourusername: he's allowed to call them what he wants

olliebearman: i feel sufficiently supported by you mum x

yourusername: i'm glad

olliebearman: family dinner when dad gets released from ferrari's top secret base jail?

this comment was deleted

maxverstappen1: did he just get sniped by ferrari's PR?

user226: okay cool got the main kids update but WHAT ABOUT LEO?

user227: please tell me he's been been in good care

yourusername: he's been my rock 🤞

user228: not the dog being more present than charles - it would be funny if it wasn't so sad :(

user229: so are any of you going to address the literal caption of this post

user230: there's two options here she either lost the court case or her and charles have actually broken up

user231: the fact carlos is not in this comment section actively gloating makes me think she might have actually won?

user232: but i don't want it to be the other option... charles and y/n are end game :(

user233: but he's been so so silent and that BULLSHIT response in the press conference

user234: idk the delusion in me has this theory ... she won the case but like t swift, doesn't have access to her old work so maybe she's heartbroken over losing that and then it's just exacerbated by her boyfriend's useless bosses that are holding him captive in italy (also he was totally coached to say that shit in the presser it's written all over his strangely expressive face)

user235: at this point i might go to italy and just prison break him out of there this is ridiculous

fin.

note: DON'T HATE ME YALL i promise it'll get better we must have faith in the man (i know i hate to put my faith in men) xx

extra note from me here. first, i will fix this tag list at some point idk why it's not working rn. secondly, i have been made aware by multiple people that there is a series just like this one down to characters and the name of the series on here and i can't lie i'm bummed about it. as i said on the first part (?) this is an idea i've had since the release of TTPD (and people will back me up on this) so it bums me out that there are blatant copies coming out! i'm all for inspiration but sometimes there's a difference between taking inspo and copying especially when my masterlist was posted ages ago and my first part was posted on the 9th of may.... anyways that's all i have to say! enjoy xx

taglist: in comments!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Jason knows he’s not made out of porcelain, he was made out of anything but such fragility, something that he had always remained you of.

Yet he couldn’t help but feel as though he might be with how you take his hand in yours, gently caressing his calloused palms, his fingers and the scars that littered his knuckles from all the fights he’s gotten into.

He couldn’t help but think he’s somewhat made of porcelain when you hold his face as though inspecting a work of art, holding him in such a way he wasn’t certain either he could feel your touch or his mind was fucking with him. You trace his cheeks with feather light and curiosity touches as you trailed your fingers across them, across his bottom lip and down towards his jaw before racking back up to trail a finger down the slope of his nose and the faded scars close to his eyebrows.

You touched him as though he was porcelain, despite being told multiple times he wasn’t, he was far from porcelain but you touched and held him as though he’d break under pressure.

You touched his as though you were holding something whole and not something so damaged and so fucking broken beyond repair that many considered him a lost cause, an angry soul that use to beam so bright. You smiled and loved him and all Jason could think was this;

‘why me? Why do I get someone as good as them? Would they still love me if they knew all the things I’ve done? The people I’ve killed and the blood that stains my hands? Would they’d still love me all the same and hold me like this even if I become the monster many think I already am?’

You knew he wasn’t porcelain and you yet your touch, the affection within your eyes as you look upon him, your sweet kisses that you scatter across his scars after asking if he would be okay with it, everything you did made him feel as though he was made of porcelain because he actually was; Jason Todd was made of porcelain and his cracks and broken parts were put together and concealed in pure gold, it didn’t hide the fact that he been through so much but he looked beautiful and dare you say better then he’s ever looked before.

Jason Todd once believed he wasn’t made of porcelain, but with you he found that he was in fact made of porcelain, the most fragile variation possible but you loved and held him close to your chest as you poured your love into his cracks and broken parts; bringing him back together with the power of your voice as you spoke sweet and honeyed words to him about his beauty. You could see just how beautiful the man before you was, it was impossible for you not to see him as a beautiful man with a heart as pure as gold, and you’ll gladly show him this over and over again if you must.

Jason Todd was made of porcelain and he was content with that, just as long as it was your arms he went home to, your voice he fell asleep to and your heart that he listened to as he is reminded that you are alive and he is very much loved by you. Jason Todd knew was made of our porcelain the moment you whispered ‘I love you and I will fall in love with you again.’ Against his lips.

[iholdwhatican]

reunions

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

read part 2 here!

length: 3.8k

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; surprise visit from patrick ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension

summary: you want to make your husband's birthday special, so you invite his attractive, charming, estranged childhood best friend in the hopes that they'll make amends. surely nothing will go wrong, right?

author's note: i can't stop thinking about them i am so ill. this is the first of presumably many challengers works. and yes i did make a new blog just for this, don't judge me. this is a drabble that was stuck in my head but I do have more for it should it be wanted! preferably something that leaves you sandwiched in between them :3

originally posted by iholdwhatican

You told yourself this whole thing happened out of the goodness of your heart. You’d just wanted to be a good wife and make your husband’s birthday the best it could possibly be. Because Art Donaldson was the most amazing person you’d ever known, and he loved you, and he deserved the world. There was nothing off limits when it came to him, no line you wouldn’t cross. 

You knew how much Patrick had meant to him, how much he missed his best friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide the stories made you smile, how happy he sounded when he recounted the things he’d gotten into with the eccentric tennis player. And you knew how sad Art was that they didn’t talk anymore. 

So what better time to remedy that than for his birthday? That was a wonderful surprise, right? Right?

Upon meeting Patrick Zweig, your first thought was how the hell this man got along so well with your Art. Not to say he was a bad person, but he was just so… much. He was cocky, indomitable, the kind of person that knew what he wanted and what he was worth and wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a force not to be reckoned with, no matter what. He was also unbelievably charming (and not bad on the eyes, which you would never admit), and you hated the way his sweet-talking got under your skin. 

He asked you how Art was. You told him he was fine. Retired, now. Making the most of a quiet life. You’d just celebrated 3 years of married life. He asked to see wedding photos and you didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes at missing the event. You happily obliged. It was the most romantic day of your life, after all. 

And you couldn’t help but internally pat yourself on the back. Patrick missed him too. You could mend the broken bridge between them, and your husband would be thrilled. He’d reward you for your good work. 

You asked Patrick to come to Art’s party. To make contact again. To come back into his world. He only hesitated for a moment, asked if Art knew and was okay with it. 

The lie slipped off your tongue easily. Of course, he’s wanted this for a long time. It’s a surprise, but a most welcome one. You didn’t have details on what happened between them- only knew of a falling out while Art was in college- but it couldn’t be that bad. Anything could be overcome, right? 

Patrick accepted and you hoped the lump in your throat was from excitement and not dread. You thanked him for meeting you, told him you’d forward him the details, and went back to your husband. 

The day of the party came, and you were so nervous you could hardly take it. You’d spent the last couple of days working yourself into a frenzy, convinced that this reunion was a terrible idea and your husband would hate you. You had no right to bring an estranged friend back into his life, on his birthday no less. And without saying a word to him. 

God, what the hell was wrong with you? 

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and downed your third glass of water. It did nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat. Or the pounding of your heart. You wondered how fucked you’d be at the party if you took a Xanax right now. Or five. 

Just then, Art peeked his head into the kitchen, donning a sweet smile when he spotted you. He looked as handsome as ever, sporting a well-fitting polo shirt and khakis. His hair was growing out again, starting to show those boyish curls you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He made his way over to you, wedding band sparkling on his finger, and your heart melted. 

You loved him so much. Had you ruined his birthday with your stupid meddling? Maybe even ruined your marriage? 

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing your head. It was a familiar gesture, a normal one. He loved touching you, keeping you close. You loved it just as much, “The cake was just delivered. You went way overboard, as usual.” 

You pretended you weren’t overcome with dread and cupped his cheek, “Shut up. There’s no such thing as overboard. You deserve this, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.” 

Please, please don’t be mad at me for inviting him. For bringing him into our world. Please still love me. I did it for you. I’d do anything for you.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled- in that perfect way you adored so much. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It was gentle and caring and everything you were to each other. It made you want to cry. Art was everything. All you wanted was to give him the same. 

The doorbell rang, breaking you two out of the moment, and your husband pulled away. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well,” He spoke, looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, “That must be our first guest.” 

You hummed happily, “Guess it’s time to celebrate you, Birthday Boy. Shall we?” 

“We shall.” He teased, doing a mock bow as he offered you his hand. You took it, laughing, and the two of you made your way to the front door. 

You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the unhappy way your stomach was churning. 

The first hour of the party went by with a pleasant lack of reunions-turned-altercations. Patrick had yet to show his face, and you wondered if he might not come at all. Part of you was relieved at the idea, while the other couldn’t help but be frustrated. 

He said he would come. What if the surprise didn’t end up being a bad thing? How would you know if he never showed? 

God, you needed a cigarette. 

You’d spent the entirety of the party so far glued to Art’s side, being his doting wife as you made conversation with everyone. Your eyes continued to stray to the door, looking for a certain dark-haired man. Every single time, you were disappointed. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. From what you’d heard, Patrick wasn’t really someone who could be counted on a lot. 

Maybe this whole thing was just a big mistake. And maybe the part of you that truly felt let down at not getting to see him again was something you should never, never look into. 

You patted Art’s chest and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna check on the food. I’ll be back.” 

He nodded, smiled, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His arm released its grip on you and he continued his conversation with an old Stanford buddy without missing a beat. He was fucking incredible. At everything. You were crazy about him. 

The food didn’t actually need to be checked on. The caterer was high-quality, and they knew better than to fuck up one of your events for your husband. You had full trust in them- you honestly just needed a breather. This whole night had felt like a cold fist clenched around your heart. 

Instead, you grabbed yourself a large glass of wine and made your way to the patio to enjoy some cool night air. 

The area was blessedly empty, allowing you to slip out of the hostess facade. You were more than happy to do it, especially when celebrating Art, but the circumstances tonight were making it much harder than usual. Which was, of course, entirely your own fault. Way to go, you! Knocked it out of the park tonight, didn’t you? 

You sighed, leaned against the railing, and took a long gulp of your drink. The weather was slightly chilly, and it felt amazing against your heated skin. Already, you were finding it easier to breathe. And think, for that matter. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Mrs. Donaldson?” A familiar, spine-tingling voice spoke, breaking you out of your peaceful moment. 

You whirled around, eyes landing on Patrick fucking Zweig leaning against the wall of your house. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, his hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. They went well with the button-up shirt he wore, a stark contrast from the shorts and hoodie he’d had on when you first met. He looked good- really good. Enough to make a pit grow in your stomach. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You blurted out, thankful that the darkness was shrouding your red face. His face was just barely illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette, and you watched as he looked you up and down, “Also, how’d you get back here? I didn’t see you walk into the house.” 

Patrick kicked off the wall and walked over to you, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. His curls fell over his forehead, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush them out of the way- the same way you always did to Art. You swallowed deeply. What the hell was wrong with you? 

“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?” He responded matter-of-factly, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. The smell made you nostalgic. You and Art had made a pact years ago to quit together, but God did you miss it sometimes. You licked your lips and tried (and failed) not to stare, “I snuck in through the back. Thought it’d be less messy that way.” 

You had no idea how he’d been able to get back here, but you decided you weren’t gonna ask. It didn’t matter in the long run, anyway. Besides, he was probably right. You had no idea how Art was gonna react, and it was smart to have it happen in an isolated area. 

“Probably smart.” You muttered, taking another swig of the wine. The feeling of his eyes stayed on you, burning into your skin, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You didn’t want to think too hard on why. 

“He doesn’t know you reached out to me.” It wasn’t a question, but you responded to Patrick’s words regardless. He’d find out eventually. 

“No.” The admittance came out with a heavy breath, like you were releasing the weight that had been on you all night. In a way, you were. You ran a hand over your forehead, “I don’t know what happened between you two, he doesn’t talk about it. But I just- I’m terrified he’ll hate me for bringing you.” 

Why the hell were you pouring your heart out to this stranger? What was it about him that drew you in so much and made you want to bring down your walls? How was this charming man already under your skin from one damn meeting? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain any of this to your husband, his estranged best friend? 

You needed another drink. Or ten. 

“You really love him.” Again, not a question. But you answered. You had to. 

“More than anything else in this world.” 

Patrick offered you his half-smoked cigarette and you took it without thinking. The sting of the smoke in your lungs was like coming home. It was so good it almost made you cry. But lots of things made you want to cry right now. You could taste mint on the cigarette, like he’d been chewing gum before lighting up. The same kind Art always chewed. 

It made something flip in your stomach. 

“Well, from what I can tell, you’re pretty great. Super caring, based on how far you went in an attempt to make him happy. Shit, you tracked me down, which is a feat in itself. And you’re gorgeous, obviously. I’m surmising that you’re basically the whole package.” He spoke calmly, as if every one of those words didn’t make your heart jump into your throat. You chugged your drink to use it as an excuse for your rosy cheeks, “So I don’t think there’s any way he could hate you. Even for inviting me here.” 

You were speechless for five long seconds as he took the cigarette back and inhaled. Then you finally got your brain to stop lagging, “You don’t even know me.” 

“I know enough.” He countered, continuing the pass back and forth of the cigarette, “And I know Art. He wouldn’t marry someone beneath him. The fucker somehow always gets the ones way out of his league.” 

You didn’t comment, but you knew what Patrick was referring to. Tashi Duncan. The now pro-tennis player that he’d had a thing with back in the day. You didn’t know the details, but you knew she was a point of contention between the two men. 

Honestly, you tried not to think about Tashi. She was gorgeous, super talented, and an overall seemingly great person. Art had passed up on that for you, and it got to your head a lot. You wondered if he regretted it. Or at least wondered what his life could’ve been like. 

You didn’t think you were out of his league. In fact, you thought the opposite. Not that you needed to tell Patrick that. Your insecurity and jealousy issues could stay yours alone. 

“Well, I don’t know about that.” You murmured.

The cigarette began to dim as you took the last drag, flicking it off the balcony and down into the grass below. With both the alcohol and nicotine gone, you started to think you probably needed to get back to the party. Your husband would be looking for you, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You just had to figure out how Patrick would fit into the equation. 

“If you weren’t taken, I’d be trying to charm the fuck out of you right now.” 

The statement caught you completely off guard. You looked over at him, eyes wide, and tried to keep your cool at the sexy smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking attractive. 

You blinked once, twice, a third time, “What?” 

His smile grew at your flustered state, “I have great taste in women, and I’d flirt with you if I could. So I’m saying you’re definitely a catch. And totally out of Art’s league.” 

You licked your lips. Subconsciously, “I’m pretty sure that was flirting.” 

“Was it?” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, “Oops.” 

You ran your finger over the rim of your wine glass, trying to think of something to say. You came up empty. You were married- to this man’s childhood best friend. To the love of your life. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. And you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it. 

“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Art’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned around to watch him making his way to you with a smile. Then he spotted Patrick and his smile dropped as his face filled with recognition, “You- what the hell are you doing here?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain and mediate the situation, but the dark-haired man beat you to it. 

“Your pretty little wife invited me.” He said, which was probably the worst thing he probably could’ve chosen. You internally buried your face in your hands. 

Art’s jaw clenched and his eyes lit up. It took you a moment to realize that the expression was anger. Honestly, it took you by surprise. It was extremely rare to see him angry, and never was it directed at you. And though he was looking at Patrick, you were terrified that in this instance it was. 

“Let me explain.” You immediately choked out, clutching your empty wine glass like a lifeline, “I really just thought that-” 

“She thought you missed me and wanted us to reconnect. As a birthday surprise. Isn’t that sweet?” Patrick butted in, throwing an arm over your shoulders. Art looked ready to murder someone (probably the tennis player holding you), “I doubt it was easy contacting me, but she managed. All for you.” 

You laughed nervously, ducking your head, “Well, that’s not-” 

“Let go of her.” Art demanded. His voice was cold and dangerous. Possessive. It made something twitch in your core. Oh, you liked that. 

The brunette didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, holding his hands up in surrender, “My bad, man. I just feel like we’re already such close friends from hanging out together. Don’t you think so?” 

The last part was directed at you, and Patrick nudged you. You gave him an incredulous look. 

The charming, sweet man you’d just been talking to was gone. He was replaced by a cocky, near-disrespectful antagonist who was trying to egg your husband into some kind of altercation. And he was using you as the bait. 

You couldn’t lie that you were frustrated, but it did feel a bit nice to be in an almost tug-of-war between the two men. You liked being an object of affection or desire. 

“You should head inside, baby.” Art spoke to you, though his furious gaze never left Patrick, “Our guests will wonder where the hosts went. I’m gonna talk to Patrick for a minute.” 

You’d be damned if you told him no. Even though this situation felt like a mess that was definitely all your fault. Damn you for inviting Patrick. Damn him for being so captivating. And damn Art for loving you so much that the sight of another man touching you made him see red. This entire thing was like a whirlwind. 

“Okay…” You whispered, moving towards your husband and the house. You gave Patrick a small smile, hoping to convey your thoughts to him. Please don’t hurt him- he’s my world. Then you stopped at Art’s side and placed a hand on his bicep, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea. I just wanted to make your birthday special, is all. I didn’t mean to fuck it up.” 

He finally looked at you, just long enough to give you a loving smile and a shake of his head, “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m so proud of you for doing all this for me. Don’t worry.” 

Then he kissed you, only to stop and pull away, “Is that- were you smoking with Patrick?” 

You sucked on your teeth and nodded, “Yes, a little. I’m sorry. I just-” 

But then he was kissing you again, hard and needy. Like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Your face burned bright red, and you could feel Patrick’s eyes on the two of you. Art had never acted like this in all the time you knew him. But right now, within thirty seconds of being around his old friend, he was putting on a show to prove that you were his. 

You belonged to him. And he wanted Patrick to know it. 

You really, really fucking liked this. 

When he pulled away, you felt dizzy. From both the kiss and the wine you’d downed. You barely had time to take a breath before he was lightly patting your cheek and sending you inside. You managed to take a look at the two men before rejoining the party. They just stared at each other, like they were in a standoff. 

It was unbelievably hot. 

As you went back to your guests, lips still tingling, only one thought was coming to you. 

You wondered how long you could keep Patrick around, just to see what it would do to your precious husband. 

[lucentloo]

Broken Vases and Hot Chocolate

Summary: A broken vase makes you believe the brief paradise you gained at the Potters will be shattered but James helps you realize that you won't get hurt again.

James Potter x fem!reader

Wc: 1070

Content Warning: Fem!reader, Black!reader, reader is Sirius' sister, flinching, past abuse, Mrs. Potter to the rescue with her emergency hot chocolate!, Comfort, James and reader are in a relationship.

A/N: Hello guys! I am posting one fic after the other and there might be more bc I've got a lot of free time but I wouldn't expect this for the future unfortunately. I hope you're enjoying the New Year and I hope you enjoy my fifth fic on this blog! Have a good rest of your day/night and make sure to have some water!

You knew deep down that this was a mistake; your instincts screamed at you that you shouldn’t have followed Sirius when he begged you to come along. The intensity in his gaze, the way his heart ached for you to join him—along with Regulus—made it impossible to say no. With a heavy heart, you left your little brother in the care of those who had inflicted pain upon you and stepped into the unknown alongside Sirius at the Potters’ house.

Sirius was relentless in his reassurances, insisting that the Potters were kind and that you had no reason to fear them. He spoke with such conviction, claiming they would never raise a finger against you, but as the shards of glass glistened ominously at your feet, doubt clouded your mind.

You had been playing a spirited game of pass with James, the vibrant quaffle soaring back and forth between you, laughter escaping your lips like music on the warm afternoon breeze. But in an unfortunate moment, the ball slipped through your fingers, crashing into one of Mrs. Potter’s beautiful vases. The sound was deafening, a shatter so loud it seemed to echo through the air, alerting not only James but likely every neighbor on the block. In that instant, the blissful atmosphere transformed into one of panic, leaving you with the weight of uncertainty and dread.

James muttered a string of curses under his breath, his frustration palpable in the air. You flinched at the disturbance it caused, instinctively dropping to your knees to swiftly clean up the mess sprawled across the floor. The cool surface pressed against your skin as you worked, your heart racing. Sirius had mentioned that the Potters were generally more forgiving than others, so perhaps if you hurried, you could erase the evidence of your mistake before they noticed. You hoped that your diligence would spare you from their displeasure.

“Woah! Hey, what are you doing?” James asks as he watches the glass dig into your knees as you clean it up with uncovered hands.

“I’m cleaning,” you responded in what you hoped was a collected voice but knew that there were some cracks in there.

James quickly put on his deer slippers Sirius gave him for Christmas and stepped over the glass to stop your hands. “Sweet thing, you don’t have to do that, it was my fault the throw was too hard, come on.” He says gently as he brushes off the few small flakes of glass off your palm.

‘But I didn’t catch it. If you just let me clean it up then there would be less trouble and-”

You were cut off by James who put his on your waist and hoisted you up like you weighed nothing. He carried you over to the couch and set you down gently. “There is no trouble, just a knocked-down vase. Sure I might get in trouble with my mom but it was a vase given to her by my grandma, and honestly? My mom's been complaining about it for years.”

The only thing you managed to get from that was the fact that James might get in trouble with his mom. You thought Sirius said that the Potters weren’t as bad as your guys’ parents.

When James went to leave you grabbed his hands tight. Anxiety courses through you as the image of Hogwarts golden boy getting hurt flashes through your mind. That’s not right, he’s too good to be hurt like that. “Tell them it was me, that it was my fault.” Your words are desperate and pleading and James’ eyebrows furrow in concern when he starts to realize what this is all about.

“It’s fine, it was my fault and I’m fine with taking the blame.”

“But I don’t want you to get-”

“Nobody’s gonna get hurt,” James says with conviction. He raises his hand and slowly places it on your cheek. When he wipes away your tears you finally realize how much you were crying and shaking. You sniffle and try to hide your face in embarrassment but James wouldn’t let you.

“No matter what happens here, what you or anybody else does, no one will get hurt. I promise.” He says the last two words a bit softer as his hand travels from your cheek to the back of your neck so he can move your head to his chest.

You let him as you slump against him. You start crying even more and he doesn’t move or give any indication of how uncomfortable he is while crouching. “That’s it, just let it out. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

You hear the door open and hear the silence that follows. You try to move out of James' hold, and he lets you, but he keeps his hand on your back while he looks at his parents. Sirius gives you a concerned look but you look down in your lap.

“What happened, dear?” You look up as Mrs. Potter comes over to the two of you. You choke up before you answer and look over to the corner of the living room instead. When she follows your line of sight she relaxes and sighs. “Oh James, again?”

You look over to James who has now moved to help his dad and Sirius with the groceries. He wears a shit-eating grin as he shrugs. “That boy.” Mrs. Potter says and to your surprise laughs while shaking her head. With a single wave of her wand, the mess is cleared and your injuries are healed as she places her hand on your back as she stands up.

You both make your way to the kitchen. “Do you like hot chocolate? I say it’s a must in the holidays.” With that, your usual smile comes back and you nod. You make your way to where James and Sirius are talking by the counter.

“Thank you, James, for dealing with my mini freak out.” You say quietly as Sirius pulls you into his side.

James just smiles fondly. “How many times have I told you, sweetheart, it’s not dealing with you, it’s loving you. Two different things.” He kisses your head and squeezes your hand before going to help his mom with the hot chocolate.

“I still think it’s disgusting that he’s dating you.”

You laugh and nudge Sirius's side. “Sirius!”

He shrugs his shoulders and holds you closer. “Just saying.”

You smile warmly and lean in more, knowing you could use a few minutes of just hugging.

[writingsforwhatever]

Summers were never supposed to hurt this much (q.hughesxreader) Part 1

summary: irrevocably in love with quinn hughes

genre: it doesn't matter

a/n: I'm afraid friends to lovers trope will always get me so here i am writing again. HEY IM BACK. ALSO I used Belly as her nickname because THIS IS HEAVILY INSPIRED by 'The summer I turned pretty'

~

The boat rocked gently as she leaned over the edge, her fingers skimming the cold water of the lake. It was the same lake they had grown up on, summers spent barefoot and sunburned, racing across the docks, yelling over who got the best seat in the Hughes family’s old motorboat.

She sighed and tilted her head back, staring up at the stars, which burned so bright they made the rest of the world feel impossibly small. For a fleeting moment, she let herself remember what it was like to be that little girl, Luke’s inseparable shadow, always tagging along with his brothers but always watching Quinn. He’d been everything: her childhood hero, her first heartbreak, and her now unspoken unrequited love.

The boat was alive with laughter and the occasional splash of water as the group lounged lazily in the late afternoon sun. It was one of those perfect Michigan summer days, the ones they’d spent their whole lives chasing.

Despite hearing the familiar sounds of her childhood, the crackle of the firepit in the Hughes' backyard, the pop of beer cans opening, and the unmistakable sound of Trevor Zegras telling a story too dramatic to be true floating through the air, today felt off. It wasn’t just the humidity or the lack of wind.

This summer was different.

Quinn Hughes had brought a girl home.

Her name was Fiona. She was tall and sun-kissed, with perfect white teeth and a laugh that sounded like it belonged in a movie. She fit effortlessly into the group, the way Belly had always assumed she did. But Fiona didn’t have to try. She wasn’t the girl who’d been climbing trees with Luke since they were seven or getting into splash wars with Quinn when he wasn’t busy pretending she didn’t exist. She wasn’t Luke’s best friend, or, worse, like a little sister to Quinn.

No, Fiona was the girl Quinn couldn’t stop smiling at this summer.

And it was killing her.

She sat cross-legged near the bow, her oversized hoodie pulled snug over her swimsuit. She traced the edge of her drink can absentmindedly, tuning out most of the conversation swirling around her.

It wasn’t supposed to bother her, not like this. She’d spent years mastering the art of pretending she didn’t care. Even when her heart had broken at fifteen, watching Quinn kiss some girl at a party, she’d buried it under layers of distractions . She’d survived those summers by convincing herself that Quinn didn’t see her that way and never would.

“Hey Belly, you good?” Luke asked, nudging her leg with his foot. He was sprawled out on the deck beside her, sunglasses sliding down his nose, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

She blinked, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just tired, I guess.”

“You’re always tired,” Trevor chimed in from the driver’s seat, his signature cocky smirk firmly in place. “Or bored. Or both. Should we entertain you, princess?”

“Please don’t,” she deadpanned, chucking a pretzel at him. It hit him square in the chest, and Alex barked out a laugh.

“Easy there, Z,” Alex said, leaning back against the cooler. “She’ll throw you in the lake next.”

“She has thrown him in the lake before,” Luke added, grinning. “You deserved it, too.”

Trevor threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. But I’m just saying, She's been weird lately. What gives?”

“Nothing gives,” She muttered, rolling her eyes. Her gaze flickered, just for a moment, to Quinn and the girl sitting beside him.

“Alright, alright, back off,” Cole said, throwing an arm around her shoulders protectively. “Belly's just sick of us idiots. And honestly? Fair.”

She relaxed a little, leaning into Cole’s familiar warmth. “Thanks, Coley. At least someone’s on my side.”

This summer was supposed to be like all the others: easy, light, and uninterrupted, with her secretly pining for her best friend's oldest brother. But everything felt different now. Quinn was leaving soon, the draft was just around the corner, and with it came the fear that everything was about to change.

Her thoughts were once again interrupted as she heard Jack screaming.

“Trevor, I swear to God, if you cannonball one more time—” Jack's voice rang out across the boat as Trevor launched himself off the side, sending a massive splash in every direction.

Sitting on one of the boat's cushions with her knees pulled to her chest, she couldn’t help but laugh as Jack staggered back, water dripping from his hair and soaking through his t-shirt. He glared at Trevor, who surfaced from the water, grinning like he'd just won an Olympic medal.

“Lighten up, Jackie boy!” Trevor shouted, shaking water out of his hair.

“Jackie boy?” Jack muttered darkly, grabbing a nearby water gun and aiming it with precision. Before Trevor could react, he was drenched again.

“Can you two stop for five minutes?” Quinn’s exasperated voice cut in, holding a cooler full of drinks. He looked like he’d spent the entire day trying to keep the group from imploding, a role he’d always begrudgingly taken on as the eldest Hughes.

“That’s rich coming from the guy who takes five years to pick a movie,” Jack shot back, grabbing a towel and attempting to dry off.

“Or five years to ask a girl out,” Trevor added with a wink, earning a round of laughter from the group except for Belly, who stayed silent.

It wasn’t just the joke that got to her. It was the way Quinn barely reacted, offering only a small smile before dropping the cooler and walking over to where Fiona stood, her sundress fluttering in the breeze. It got her thinking if this was an inside joke she didn’t learn to catch.

Jack flopped onto the chair next to her, still muttering about Trevor. He glanced at her, his irritation giving way to concern. “You good, Bells? You’ve been quiet. And not like, Luke just said something stupid quiet. Like… actual quiet.”

“I’m fine,” She said automatically, picking at a loose thread on her hoodie.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Bullshit. You don’t get to lie to me. You’re either mad at Luke or…” His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted to where Quinn and Fiona were now standing, laughing softly about something.

“Oh,” he said simply, his eyebrows lifting slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Nothing,” Jack said innocently, leaning back in his chair. “Just… makes sense, is all.”

“What makes sense?” she demanded, hating how defensive she sounded.

Jack sighed, smiling, his usual playful demeanor giving way to something softer. “Nothing, Bells."

She looked at him skeptically, but before she could say anything, Luke appeared, dripping wet and holding a half-empty water gun. “Jack, you’re up. Trevor’s got a death wish and I need backup.”

Jack hesitated, glancing between her and Luke. Finally, he stood, patting her shoulder as he passed. “Don’t let it ruin your day, okay?”

Jack was right. This summer was supposed to be all about her and Luke before they went off to college.

~

The bonfire crackled and popped as the group settled into their usual spots, the glow dancing off their faces. It was one of those perfect summer nights where the air was crisp but not cold, the stars blanketing the sky, and the laughter around the fire felt like it could wash away any worries.

Belly sat between Luke and Alex, her legs tucked under a blanket she’d dragged out of the boathouse. The smell of marshmallows and charred wood filled the air as Trevor dramatically told some wild story about a supposed run-in with a celebrity.

“And then,” Trevor said, his hands gesturing wildly, “she looked me right in the eye and said, ‘You, sir, are not tall enough to sit in this section.’”

“You made that up,” Cole interrupted, grinning as he toasted a marshmallow.

“No, I didn’t,” Trevor shot back. “Right, Jack? Back me up here!”

Jack groaned, shaking his head. “You’re on your own with this one, Z. No way am I vouching for you.”

Laughter rippled through the group, but she was barely paying attention. She stole a glance toward Quinn, who was seated across the fire with Fiona. They were sharing a blanket, and Fiona leaned into him as he murmured something in her ear. Her chest tightened as she looked away, focusing intently on the stick in her hand.

“You okay?” Luke’s voice was quiet beside her.

She startled slightly, turning to face him. His expression was soft, his brows furrowed with concern.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Luke gave her a look, the kind he reserved for when he was calling her out on her nonsense. “You’ve been weird all day.”

“I’m not weird,” she said, poking the fire with her stick.

“You are,” he insisted, his voice low enough that no one else could hear. “Come on, Bells. What’s up? You’re never this quiet during one of Z’s stories. Usually, you’re jeering him the loudest.”

She hesitated, the words stuck in her throat. She’d always been able to talk to Luke about anything, school, family, the future. But this? This wasn’t something she could admit to anyone, not even him, and especially him.

"I guess I'm just scared." She could feel the weight of his gaze.

Luke frowned, leaning closer. "Of what?"

“Everything changing,” she admitted, half heartedly lying. Her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. She glanced at him, her eyes reflecting a vulnerability she sometimes showed. “We’re all going to college soon. You and Trevor are going to be off doing your thing, Jack’s already basically a superstar, and Quinn…” She trailed off, her chest tightening at the thought. “I don’t know, Luke. It feels like everything’s going to be different this summer, and I’m not ready for it.”

Luke was quiet for a moment, letting her words settle between them. Then he tilted his head, offering a small smile. “Belly, nothing’s gonna change between us. With all of us. You know that, right? You and me? We’re solid. Always have been, always will be.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s not just us, though, Luke. It’s… everyone. I mean, the draft of Quinn this year, of you guys possibly moving to other states. Doesn’t it feel different already?”

Luke followed her gaze to the group around the fire, where Jack and Trevor were bickering over the last marshmallow, Cole was making some sarcastic remark towards Alex, and Quinn was sitting with Fiona, their heads close together as they talk.

“Okay,” Luke said, turning back to her. “I get it. Stuff’s changing. But it’s not all bad, you know? We’re still us. We’ll still have summers here, bonfires and boats and all the stupid stuff we do. It’s not like we’re all gonna forget about each other.”

“I know,” she said, sighing. “I just… I don’t want to lose this.”

“You won’t,” Luke said firmly, nudging her again. “I won’t let it happen. And if anyone tries to ruin our summers, I’ll throw them in the lake.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “You’re really committed to that lake throwing thing, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Luke said, grinning. “It’s my signature move.”

“Thanks, Luke,” she said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment.

“Anytime,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Just remember, I’ve got your back. No matter what.”

She pushed aside the pang of jealousy as Quinn’s laugh drifted across the fire and let herself be comforted by Luke’s presence. Because if nothing else, at least she still had Luke.

~

The morning sun filtered through the trees as she, Cole, and Alex climbed into the old Hughes’ SUV, eager to head to the little shop in town. The guys had somehow lost the coin toss the night before, and Belly had volunteered to join them.

“Hey, we’re getting grape,” Cole called out, holding up a two-liter bottle like it was a trophy.

“No one likes grape soda, you psychopath!” Alex shot back.

Belly rolled her eyes with a grin, tuning them out as she grabbed a few bags of chips and tossed them into the basket.

“Let me guess,” a voice said behind her, warm and amused. “You’re the referee for these two?”

She turned, startled, to see a guy standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the counter. He had sun-kissed blonde hair that looked like it had been bleached by endless days in the water and striking blue eyes that practically sparkled in the morning light.

Belly blinked, momentarily thrown off by how effortlessly good-looking he was. “Uh, yeah,” she managed, holding up the basket. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

He grinned. “I feel your pain. I’ve got two younger brothers. Chaos every day.”

“Tell me about it,” She said, relaxing a little. “I’m Belly, by the way.”

“Finn,” he said, extending a hand. His palm was warm and calloused, and she found herself holding on just a second too long before letting go. “You up here for the summer?”

“Yeah,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Staying at a lake house with some… friends.”

Finn raised an eyebrow, his smile teasing but before he could respond, Cole and Alex appeared, both carrying armfuls of snacks.

“Bells, we’re set,” Alex announced, barely glancing at Finn as he dumped the snacks onto the counter.

Finn’s gaze shifted to the guys, then back to her, his smile never wavering. “So, are you a local?”

“Sort of,” Belly said. “I’ve been coming here every summer since I was a kid.”

Finn chuckled. “Weird, I don’t remember seeing you. It’s a small town, outsiders kind of stand out, you know?"

“Fair enough,” she said, smiling despite herself.

Belly stepped up, placing her basket on the counter as well. She watched as he began ringing up the items, his bright blue eyes flicked up to her every so often.

“So, my cousin Jeremy is actually throwing a party this Friday night,” Finn said, breaking the silence between them. His voice was casual, but there was an undertone of something else, something she couldn’t quite decipher. “Nothing too crazy. Just a little house party.”

She blinked at him, a bit taken aback. “A house party?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’d be cool if you came. I mean, no pressure, of course.

This is it, she thought. You’ve got one shot to say yes to something like this—to actually make this summer memorable, instead of spending it sulking and pining over Quinn Hughes, like you always do. Don’t mess it up.

Belly swallowed, Finn is really handsome.

Suddenly feeling warmer than the summer heat outside. “Uh… yeah, okay. I’ll come.” She could feel the blush creeping up her neck, her cheeks burning as she smiled.

Finn’s grin widened at her answer. “Awesome. I’ll send you the details. It’s at this place by the lake.” He scribbled something down on a piece of paper and slid it across the counter. “Here’s the address. The party starts around 8, but no rush. Just come whenever.”

Belly took the paper, her fingers brushing against his, and she could’ve sworn she felt a spark. Her heart was pounding, and the thought of going to this party and seeing Finn there made her stomach do flip-flops.

She never thought it was unfair that Luke didn’t know about her feelings for his brother. It was just easier that way. It was better this way, better for him, better for everyone.

Belly often tried to convince herself it was just a phase. A fleeting crush that would fade with time, like the seasons. but it never did. After all, she and Quinn didn’t see much of each other once summer ended. Quinn was always gone or caught up with his other friends.

But Jack, Jack was a different story. She likes to think Jack was too smart for his own good, even though she liked to pretend he was as oblivious as the rest of them. The way he could see right through her, though, was unnerving. Sometimes, she wondered how much easier it would be if she just let herself fall for Jack instead, or maybe even Luke. Luke, with the years of friendship they shared, a foundation so deep-rooted that it felt like solid ground beneath her feet. It would be simple with Luke. Safe. No grasping at something that could never be.

But even so, her heart still ached for Quinn.

No matter how much sense it made to move on, it had always been him, and it always would be.

~

The wooden stairs creaked softly beneath her feet. She paused at the top of the stairs, her hand hovering over the railing. She smoothed her dress for what felt like the hundredth time, the faint scent of her perfume calming her nerves or at least she hoped it would.

It's just a party. It’s not a big deal, she told herself, but the thought of walking into the living room where the boys were sprawled out made her pulse quicken. She knows she will never hear the end of this.

With a deep breath, she walked in the open space of the living room. She spotted Trevor and Cole first, lounging on the couch, controllers in hand, facing her direction while Quinn, Jack, and Luke sat on the couch with their backs to her. The boys barely noticed her at first, too focused on the game.

But then Trevor looked up.

His face lit up with a grin, and he let out a dramatic whistle. “Damn, Bells! You cleaned up nice!” he hollered, dropping his controller and leaning back with an exaggerated smirk. “What’s the occasion? Hot date?”

Belly felt her cheeks flame as all eyes turned to her. “Shut up, Trevor,” she muttered, fiddling with the strap of her purse.

“Oh, don’t be shy,” Trevor teased, wagging his eyebrows. “Looks like someone's getting laid tonight.”

“Trevor! Oh my god.” Belly yelped, her face burning as the boys erupted into laughter.

She shot him a glare before quickly turning to Luke. “Anyway, Luke, I’m heading out.”

Luke turned to her fully, pausing the game. His face lighting up with the realization. “Oh, right! I forgot you have a date tonight. With that guy from the store, yeah?”

Jack’s head snapped up. “Store guy?”

“Yeah,” Cole chimed in, leaning forward with a knowing grin. “When we went to the shop earlier. What was his name again? Finn, right?”

At the mention of Finn’s name, Quinn spoke up, his gaze locking onto her. “Who the hell is Finn?” he asked, his tone sharper than she’d expected.

Something about the way he said it made her stomach twist. It wasn’t anger or concern. it was something else entirely. Almost like disbelief, as he didn’t believe someone would ask her out.

Before she could find her voice, Cole spoke up, his tone lighter, as if trying to diffuse the tension. “I can drive you if you want, Bells. No problem.”

“No thanks,” Belly said quickly, giving him a polite smile. “I’m okay. It’s very near here so it’s fine.”

That did it. Now everyone was looking at her. Trevor, Jack, Cole, and especially Quinn. His gaze was intense, searching her face for something she couldn’t quite place.

“You don’t even know this guy?” Quinn asked, his voice quieter but no less pointed.

The room fell into an even heavier silence. The awkwardness was palpable, and Belly’s chest tightened. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.

Finally, Jack cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. “Just… get home safe, alright? If you need anything, call Luke. Or me. Or anyone.”

Belly’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Jack,” she said softly. Her gaze flickered back to Quinn for a fleeting moment, but his expression was unreadable.

“Be safe!” Trevor called after her as she headed toward the door. “And if he turns out to be a loser, you know I’m always available.”

“Yeah, not in this lifetime, Z,” she shot back, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile.

As the door clicked shut behind her, she let out a shaky breath. She tried not to think about Quinn’s gazes thrown at her way or where the fuck could Fiona be and why isn't she with her boyfriend.

Because tonight wasn’t about him. It couldn’t be.

~

The music was loud enough to feel in her chest, a pulsing rhythm that made the entire house seem alive. She made her way through the crowd, her nerves buzzing. She spotted Finn almost immediately. He was impossible to miss. His golden blond hair catching the light like he’d stepped out of a sun-drenched daydream.

“You made it,” he said, his blue eyes locking onto hers.

“I did,” she replied, returning his smile.

Finn didn’t waste time. He introduced her to his friends and to his cousin, Jeremy. A tan Greek god who surfs in Hawaii, sometimes. They were a bit older but nice and before she knew it, she was laughing at their jokes and sipping a drink Finn handed her.

For the first time in forever, she felt 18. Wanted. Like she belonged. This, she thought, was what it felt like to be the girl someone chose. Not like the boys in high school who either ignored her or treated her like a joke. Finn wasn’t like them. He was attentive, charming, and kind.

But there was something else.

When Finn leaned in and whispered, “Want to head upstairs? It’s too loud down here,” She hesitated. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears and for a moment, Jack’s words echoed in her mind: Call us if you need anything. But she brushed the thought away. She wasn’t that kid anymore. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her.

Upstairs, the noise dulled to a muffled thump. Finn led her into a bedroom, closing the door behind them. He guided her to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands gentle but insistent.

“You’re so pretty, Belly,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

When he kissed her, it was everything she’d imagined it would be, soft, tender, intoxicating. But it quickly grew more intense. His hands slid up her thighs, his touch burning through her skin in a way that didn’t feel right. The warmth in her chest twisted into something cold.

She froze, her breath catching. Something about it didn’t sit right, and that unease deepened with every passing second.

“Finn,” she said softly, pulling back.

He didn’t stop, his lips trailing down her neck as his hands gripped her tighter.

“Stop,” she said, louder this time, her voice trembling.

Finn leaned back just enough to look at her, his expression twisting with frustration. “What? Seriously?” he asked, his tone dripping with disbelief. “I thought this is what you wanted. You came up here with me, didn’t you?”

Belly’s heart pounded. “I said stop.”

But Finn didn’t move away. Instead, he laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. You’re just another tease, aren’t you? You act like you’re into it, then pull this?”

Her stomach turned at the words, anger bubbling up alongside her fear. She scrambled off the bed, keeping her distance.

“I’m leaving,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Finn’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Whatever,” he spat, turning his back on her. “Waste of my fucking time.”

Belly didn’t wait for him to say anything else. She bolted from the room, her legs shaking as she made her way down the stairs and out of the house. The cool night air hit her like a slap, grounding her. She fumbled for her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed a number.

Luke picked up on the third ring. “Belly? What’s wrong?”

Her voice broke as she spoke. “Can you come get me?”

The car was heavy with silence, the air thick and suffocating. Belly sat rigidly in her seat, staring out the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though trying to keep her emotions from spilling out. She couldn’t bear to look at Luke. She couldn’t bear to look at anything.

Luke’s eyes darted to her every few seconds, his knuckles tight around the steering wheel. His voice broke through the stillness, low and trembling. "Belly," he said softly, but the worry in his tone hit like a hammer. "Please. Tell me what happened. Where is Finn? Did someone… Did someone do to something you? Because I swear to God, I’ll kill them."

Her throat closed, the words she needed stuck behind a wall of tears. She shook her head weakly, her voice barely audible. "Luke, please… Just drive. I just want to go home. Please."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as his grip on the wheel faltered. "Belly, I—"

"Luke," she interrupted, her voice breaking, "just drive. I’m begging you."

He exhaled sharply, his frustration and helplessness palpable, but he obeyed, focusing his attention on the road. The silence in the car was unbearable, but Belly couldn’t bring herself to break it. She could feel the weight of Luke’s concern pressing against her, and it only made her feel worse.

As they pulled into the garage, Belly barely waited for the car to come to a full stop before bolting out, her tears blurring her vision. She stumbled through the door, her breath hitching, and froze when she entered the living room.

The living room was like how she left it earlier, full. Quinn was sitting close to Fiona on the couch, Trevor and Alex sprawled lazily nearby, Jack leaning back in the armchair with a slice of pizza in hand and Cole probably sleeping in the guest room. They were all watching a movie, the quiet hum of the TV the only sound until she entered.

One by one, their eyes turned to her.

"Belly?" Jack’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade. He sat up abruptly, his face a mask of confusion and alarm. "What the fuck happened? Why are you crying?"

Trevor’s reaction was instant. He stood, his voice softer but no less urgent. "Bells? What’s wrong?"

Her cheeks burned under their stares. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and foolish all at once. The tears came harder now, and her voice failed her completely. She couldn’t explain. Couldn’t face their questions.

Instead, she turned on her heel and ran upstairs, her heart pounding in her chest as she slammed the door behind her.

She collapsed onto her bed, the sobs breaking free as she buried her face into the pillow. The muffled sounds of the living room faded as the tears poured out, soaking the fabric beneath her.

Her mind spiraled, the weight of the night pressing down on her like a crushing wave. Of course it wasn’t real. Of course Finn didn’t like her, not in the way she’d foolishly believed, even for a moment. Her chest tightened as the truth settled like a stone in her stomach. She’d been nothing more than a convenience to him, another girl he could charm into submission.

Her tears came faster, hotter. She thought about how she’d been so determined to forget about Quinn. She’d convinced herself she could move on, that she could prove to herself, to him, that she didn’t want him anymore. But all that resolve had led her to Finn, and Finn… he’d been a nightmare disguised as a dream.

She hated herself for falling for it, for believing even for a second that someone like Finn could actually like her. Not the way she wanted to be liked. Not for real.

Finn was supposed to be different. He was supposed to be a step forward, a reminder that the world was full of possibilities, that she could find someone who would make her feel worthy and wanted without Quinn lingering in the background of her mind.

Now, humiliation added a fresh sting to her pain. Quinn had been right. She doesn't even know the guy.

And once again, Quinn Hughes had won.

N/A: I wanna add here flashbacks from childhood and also Q is a little weird, no? LOL

[cheeseceli]

They listen to your break up song

Pairing: enhypen!ot7 × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: angst, idol!au, short scenarios/headcanons

Description: after your separation, you release a break up song. Your fandom is thrilled, but the boys are broken hearted as they know the lyrics are about them

Warnings: implied situationship at heeseung's, "girl" at niki's some broke up in bad terms, hopeful ending at some

A/n: because my girl rosé released an album and y'all should listen to it | daily click

Heeseung - call it the end

“Do I call you every night you’re gone or never call you again. Do we have a future or should I call it the end?”

Is there a limit to the amount of regrets one can have in a lifetime? Because Heeseung is pretty sure he already reached it.

After all, he made mistake after mistake with you. He had all the opportunities and still messed up. He was low-key hoping you would find the true love of your life and would scrub it in his face, just to show him what he lost.

Because damn, he lost way too much when he just let you go.

And he likes to believe what you two had was real. Where is the confusion, though? You had literally written an entire album for him. Every song was just you singing your heart out because of his mistakes. Obviously you had felt something during the time you were with him.

So the only way it wouldn't be real was if he didn't feel anything. But he did. Maybe even a little bit too much, he would say. He just didn't know what to call it, but he knew he had feelings for you and that they were huge.

In the present. All of this was happening in the present. He still had feelings. Even with your break up (can it be a break up if there's no true relationship to begin with?) and the songs, even if it supposedly came to an end, his feelings were still there, hanging stubbornly. He still loves you.

Oh. There was it.

Maybe the name of the feeling was love. Heeseung pauses at the realisation. All that you ever wanted to know was what was going on between the two of you. "Do I call you my ex or do I call you my boyfriend? Do I call you a lover or do I call you a friend?" The one question he disliked the most. "What are we?"

He hated it with all his guts before, but now he was dying to answer it. Because he knew it now. He really wanted to answer you now.

It was ironic, to say the least. The moment he finally called it love, you were already calling it the end.

Jay - 3am

“I just saw a red flag. Gonna pretend I didn’t see that Cuz is it really really that bad? I need you really really that bad”

Was it really that bad?

Jay knew you both weren't perfect. Gosh, it couldn't be further from that. Still, he would've never imagined it was that bad.

I mean, even with all the arguments and incompatibilities, you still laughed around him. You still called him whenever something went wrong. You still confided in him when you felt like crying. It was always him. He was the one who was always with you.

He is still a bit in shock. He was aware that you deserved more than him, or at least more than he could offer you at the moment. But it's 3 am and Jay is wondering if he was able to do more. He would never be an angel, but he could've at least tried.

Apparently you were put through hell because of him. And maybe your friends had warned you a bit too much about your relationship. Your mother not liking him wasn't because she was hard to please. The entire world rolled their eyes to your relationship but he thought it was okay.

It wasn't. It most definitely wasn't. You both just dated for that long because you desperately wanted it to be him. You wanted him to be the one. The things love makes you do are never simply explained. And they are never easily seen. Maybe that's why he took so long to understand it.

He wished he had been a little more attentive back then. You both ignored the problems for the sake of the relationship. Had it been slightly different and maybe your mother would've liked him in the end.

Jake - not the same

“We had light on our side, but you messed up and you know that I’m right. I don't know who you're kidding babe, you’re not the same”

Well, Jake can't say he hasn't been warned. He made Heeseung listen to your album first in case it wasn't a good idea for him to listen to the break up songs.

"Did they say anything bad about me?"

"Not bad, no" the older boy replied "but I don't think you'd want to listen to it."

But of course Jake had to just ignore it and play the album anyways. In his defence, he missed your voice. Even if you were going to criticise his entire existence, at least he would hear you.

But Heeseung was right, he shouldn't have listened to the album. And you were right as well, it was all Jake's fault in the end.

He had absolutely everything. He had time, still didn't call you. He had sunny days but didn't take you on dates. He had you. God, he had you out of everything and he still managed to waste it.

Maybe it was work. Perhaps his mindset for the job wasn't as good as he thought it was. He had told you that nothing had changed but you replied quite a few times that it wasn't the same. And it wasn't indeed. He messed up. You warned him. And of course, you were right.

You were always right.

It didn't feel fair though. He's the one who screwed things up, he should feel lucky you didn't mention his name in the song and dragged him down. He would've deserved it. You were too nice even in your break up song. But he was still feeling a bit wronged.

"Did letting me down get too tiring?" Is what you asked. That wasn't right. He hates himself for making you feel like you were anything like a burden, that he got exhausted into the relationship. He loved you for every bit of what lasted. He didn't want it to end. He wasn't tired in the slightest.

He didn't deserve you and he didn't know who he was trying to convince, but he didn't want you to doubt that he loved you.

Oh he wished he could go back in time. He would go back to a place where things were still great, still the same.

Sunghoon - too bad for us

“I guess that love does what it wants and that’s just too bad for us”

Sunghoon liked to think your break up was friendly. It just didn't work out. Things like that happen in the industry a lot; love wasn't simply enough.

But that was play pretend. He knew it wasn't true. Your break up was civil, yes, but it wasn't friendly. Not at all,because if it was, it wouldn't hurt that much. The way his heart aches for you even now is not very friendly.

But what happened between the two was just out of reach. You both were mature enough to admit that the beautiful castle you both created for your love just cracked down. Now it's just an ugly, devastated place. And that's too bad.

He really, truly wanted to believe it. It is what it is. He is not that big, he cannot control destiny or feelings. He was just a human who was living by, so were you. He had to just accept it and move on. Pretend it was friendly. Put a smile on his face and support you as a coworker.

But here he was falling for you all over again. This time was different though, considering he knew the feeling. He knew how good it was to be cherished by you. What he doesn't know is how he is supposed to just live without it.

"The music is not as good when you're alone." You were right. When he was just by himself, accompanied by the memories, the songs were just a painful reminder that life with you was a melody. Now it's just empty.

Maybe he should keep it friendly. Love died, or at least it was supposed to. Keep it that way.

He couldn't.

"Congratulations on the album, it sounds amazing" is what he said in the message he sent you "I hadn't realised how bad I missed your voice."

Sunoo - stay a little longer

“Please won’t you stay, stay a little longer babe. Don’t walk away, when I’m here calling your name”

Sunoo made the mistake of walking away from your life, and now he was one step away from making the mistake of calling you at midnight.

Your solo album had just been released and he had promised he wouldn't see it. He knew you were a songwriter, he knew he was gonna be the subject of at least one song. But he thought he was gonna be cussed at. He never expected one of the songs to be named "stay a little longer". Now he just had to know what it was about.

Honestly, he kinda would've preferred if you had badmouthed him. If you said he was a horrible person, an idiot, a waste of your time, he would've just accepted it. But you said you missed him. You asked him to stay. You asked him to not walk away.

He thought you were going to be okay, but he doesn't think he ever saw you this vulnerable. This fragile.

"Make a mistake so there's someone to blame." That's what you were singing about. With your song on repeat, he was truly pondering if he should make one last mistake.

Just one call when he shouldn't. Just one more mistake and maybe you would come back.

Jungwon - two years

“It's been two years and you're still not gone. Doesn't make sense that I can't move on. I try but this love never dies”

He never thought he would feel hope when listening to you singing about the break up, but here he is.

He shouldn't feel like this. It's been two years since you last loved each other. By now, the feelings were supposed to be dead. But he couldn't let go of the thought of you. Every time he saw your group in some headline, or when you had to share a stage, or when he allegedly stalked your insta account. Two years weren't enough for him to heal.

He was glad, in lack of better wording, that you felt the same.

You were singing about him. Two years later and you were singing about him, your story with him. That brought him a hope that wasn't supposed to be there. The pain in your voice was enough to crack his heart entirely. However, you said it yourself. "I can't move on." He was clinging to that line like it was his lifeline.

"This love never dies." Your words, not his. He wasn't making it up on his head. You felt the same.

The more he listened to the song the more he had to hide his smile. He felt terrible for smiling through such a sad song, but he couldn't stop thinking about all the possibilities of you still loving him.

You said you couldn't let go of him. Well, maybe you didn't have to. He was willing to make you see this.

Niki - number one girl

"so what's gonna take for you to want me? I'd give it all up if you told me that I'd be the number one girl in your eyes"

Niki couldn't help but feel like the most stupid guy on earth right now.

Looking back on your entire relationship, he couldn't understand how he was so clueless all the time. It was crystal clear. Listening to your song, he sees it now: he only lost you because he wasn't even there to look at you to begin with.

You were feeling lonely. And you tried so hard to make him see you even though he never did. You just wanted him to be with you, take care of you, compliment you. It wasn't much. You were only asking for love.

And Niki wasn't able to give it to you.

"Tell me that you need me" he needed you. He needed you before and he needs you now. He should've said it.

"Tell me that I'm loved" you are so damn loved that he didn't even comprehend the proportions of his feelings for you. He should've said it.

"Tell me that I'm worth it and I'm enough" you were. You were so much more than just enough. He saw every good and great thing that this world could offer and still you were the closest one to perfection. He should've said it.

In the end, he should've said thousands of things but dared to say none. You thought he didn't want you and he couldn't even blame you. The pain in your voice while you sang was enough to show how you were dying to hear any good thing that came out of his mouth, still he didn't notice back then. He was too late.

He wished you knew you were always and still are the number one in his eyes. But for you to know that, he should've said it first.

Masterlist I you'll probably like: songs they've written for you

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @greentulip @firstclassjaylee

Dividers by @cafekitsune | images 1, 2 and 3

[viennakarma]

Funny Little Girl

Lewis Hamilton x Reader (+ daughter)

Summary: When Lewis' little girl gets sick while he's away, he starts contemplating.

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: female!reader, husband!Lewis, Dad!Lewis, fluff, little bit hurt/comfort, daughter is sick, Lewis is worried, hospital, not beta read

Relationship: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Note: I wrote this in a spur of the moment at 2 am last night, no beta we die like men. It was genuinely supposed to be a blurb but my brain took over and ran with it. (Once again in my girl dad!Lewis agenda)

Feedback and comments are appreciated xx

Find me on Twitter! | BUY ME A COFFEE ☕️

Lewis was restless.

He hadn’t spoken to you since the morning, and usually, by this time you would’ve already texted him a good morning message or even a silly lazy picture.

He knew, obviously with him being away on a race weekend, it was natural that the time difference stood between you, but this time he wasn’t too far from home, just a few hours ahead, so he found it strange that you hadn’t texted him yet. He left a couple messages for you again, but they were only delivered. He tried to call once but it rang and you never picked up.

Then an hour or so later, when he was in the middle of a meeting, he got a call from you, a FaceTime call. Worried, he immediately interrupted the meeting, asking for a ten minute break and scurried off to his room.

He picked up as soon as he closed the door behind himself. On the screen, he could see you, still in your sleeping clothes, and Ivy was on your lap. Lewis stared at his daughter and from one single look he could tell she was not looking well.

“Hi, love. Sorry I didn’t answer your texts earlier…” You said first thing.

“What happened?” Lewis frowned.

“Ivy woke up a little under the weather today. She’s a little feverish.”

He looked at his daughter on the screen again, she wasn’t paying attention to him, her eyes red rimmed like she had been crying, in her hands, tightly held was Brendon the Kraken, her favorite plush toy, and her blankie. She had a beanie on and a pacifier. She was looking at the TV, not minding him or her mom.

“How’s she doing? Are you thinking of taking her to the hospital?” He asked, his heart tightening in his chest.

“Not yet, I think the fever might go down soon. If it doesn’t then I’ll take her to see the doctor,” you explained, rubbing Ivy’s shoulder as she snuggled up to you and Lewis wished he was home with you and Ivy, taking care of his little girl who was just a little under three, “how is everything going? Ready for the race later?”

Lewis bit back a comment of how he just wanted to go home to his wife and to his baby girl. How he wanted to snuggle up with Ivy on the couch with lots of blankets to keep her warm while watching silly cartoons. But instead, he smiled a little and talked about the race for a minute. He knew that if you knew he was sad, you were gonna be sad too, so he just pretended everything was fine and his heart wasn’t broken for being away from his family.

Ivy was a toddler, and he was aware toddlers were a little under the weather all the time and it usually wasn’t that big of a deal. Hell, he had been home a couple of times when his daughter had a little cold before. But every time it happened when he was away, it ripped his heart apart just the same.

“Will you keep me updated on Ivy?” He asked, looking at your sweet face on the screen.

“Of course, and if I take too long to reply, don’t rip your hair off with worry, okay?” You said with a fond smile. You gently nudged Ivy, pulling her pacifier out, “look, baby, say hi to daddy…”

Ivy looked at the screen, and her little lips turned into a pout, her eyes watering.

“Daddy! Want daddy!” She said, starting to cry as she made grabby hands to the screen.

Lewis felt like his heart was being torn open with a jackhammer, the pleading look in Ivy’s eyes, wanting comfort from her daddy and him being a couple of countries away, unable to teleport to her side to hold her.

“Shhh, it’s okay, love, daddy is coming home soon, isn’t he?” You said, trying to comfort your daughter, but she kept crying, fat tears wetting her chubby cheeks.

“I’m going home soon, sweetheart, I promise. Daddy’s gonna be there soon,” he said through the screen, but Ivy only seemed to grow even more agitated, her cries louder. He knew the fact that she was sick was probably playing a part in making her big emotions come out. He tried more comforting words, but both Ivy was agitated and you were trying to comfort as best as you could.

Lewis watched the screen for a few more seconds, swallowing a painful lump in his throat, seeing his daughter’s urgency in having him closer, her big brown eyes wet with tears and the grabby hands towards him as if he could just go home through the screen and pick her up in his arms.

“Sorry, love,” you said, picking up Ivy and she cried against your shoulder, “I’ll hang up to calm her down, okay? I’ll keep you updated.”

“If anything, anything really happens you can call me anytime.” He said, hearing your little whimpering through the screen, “love you two.”

“We love you, Lewis,” you blew him a quick kiss and hung up.

Lewis stared at the black screen for a long time, not really looking, just remembering the look on his little girl’s face as she wanted him close. He swallowed a couple times more, and he decided to text his dad and stepmom to go check on you and Ivy if they had some free time back home.

He went back to his pre-race meeting with a pit in his stomach. He had to make an herculean effort to be present on the race weekend and not let his mind wander back to you and Ivy. He checked a few more texts, and you kept him updated every once in a while. First telling him you got Ivy to eat something, then you sent him a picture of Ivy taking a nap on your chest, and she looked a little better, but you told him she was still a little feverish, but luckily her temperature hadn’t gone up.

Before going to the race, he warned one of the team’s assistants to keep a close eye on his phone, knowing you’d still be sending him updates on your daughter.

He finished the race P4, which wasn’t a bad finishing position but as soon as he was out of the car, he was thinking of Ivy again. When he checked his phone, your last text had been before the race started, a quick selfie wishing him good luck, but after that, there was not a single text from you, and he started worrying all over again.

“If my wife calls or texts, I need you to interrupt anything I’m doing and get the phone to me, okay? No matter what,” he said to the assistant, handing his phone again before going out to the post race interviews.

He was only half-heartedly replying during the interviews, worried that the assistant had not gone to him not even one moment, which could only mean you had not called yet.

Once the interviews were done, he went back to the assistant to check on his phone and he saw three missed calls from you and two from his dad. His stomach instantly dropped.

“I said to get the phone to me if my wife called,” He looked at the assistant who looked like a deer in the headlights.

“I tried, Lewis! The PR lady didn’t even let me through the door. I told her it was your wife and an emergency, but…” The guy defended himself, pointing to the F1 PR coordinator, who looked at Lewis with wide eyes.

“You don’t ever do that again, understood? My family is my priority and you shouldn’t have interfered when he was under explicit orders to find me as soon as my wife called.” Lewis said, he was calm but his voice was firm and left no room for questioning. The woman only nodded, spurting some excuse and apology.

He barely waved her off before finding a secluded little room to check his phone. In the texts, you had warned him that Ivy got worse and you were taking her to the hospital. He immediately called your phone but it went straight to voicemail. He tried a couple more times before trying his dad, who luckily picked up.

“Dad? Where are they?” He said.

“I brought your girls to the hospital, they put Ivy in a room and the doctor is checking her up now. We’re in the waiting room now, so as soon as I have any news, I’ll let you know. Your wife’s phone died, so it’s probably best to talk to me.”

Lewis exhaled, still feeling nervous but a little more comforted that you weren’t alone with Ivy in a moment like this.

“Can you send me the address of the hospital? I’m going straight there. And please, keep me updated.”

After hanging up, Lewis immediately went to find the team to let them know his daughter was sick and he needed to get home as soon as possible, rescheduling the post-race debriefing. He didn’t even get back to the hotel, since he had his suitcase with him at the paddock, he just called his connections and got himself a helicopter back home.

He arrived at the hospital you and Ivy were in a couple of hours later, going straight inside and finding his dad in the waiting room, chatting with a nurse. He hugged his dad, who told him you were inside with Ivy, and the nurse took Lewis and Anthony there.

Lewis entered the room where you were, sitting before the hospital bed, and Ivy was lying on the bed, holding her plushie with one hand and holding her mom’s hand with the other. She looked the same as she had in the FaceTime call that morning. 

“Daddy!” Ivy squealed, and Lewis rushed inside, hugging her tightly, careful minding the IV drip in her arm. She smelled the same as always, baby shampoo and home. Lewis inhaled into her curly hair and kissed her cheek.

“Hi, baby… I’m sorry dad took too long to arrive. How is my baby girl doing?” He asked, gently putting her down on the bed, but she grasped his coat as if to stop him from leaving again. He leaned over the bed and pecked your cheek, “Hi, my love…”

You quickly explained to Lewis that that doctor had checked on Ivy and you were waiting for him to bring the results in. Lewis comforted Ivy for a moment, before walking around the bed to hug you. You looked tired, and he imagined you had spent the whole day dealing with a sick, fussy toddler.

“Have you eaten today?” He asked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“In the morning,” You mutter, closing your eyes for a moment, enjoying the gentle caress of his knuckles on your cheeks.

“Wanna go home to rest and eat while I stay here with Ivy?” He offered, despite already knowing your reply.

“Of course not, I’m not leaving her side,” You said, rolling your eyes and he smiled.

“Dad, will you take my lovely wife to the cafeteria and make sure she eats something?” Lewis said to his dad, who was still chatting with Ivy. He immediately accepted, and Lewis removed his own coat, putting it around you, “We’ll wait here, okay?”

You nodded and left with Anthony just as Lewis turned to Ivy.

“Are you feeling cold, baby?” He asked the little girl, who looked fussy and sleepy, rubbing her eyes as she nodded.

Ivy made grabby hands, whispering for Daddy, and Lewis got into the hospital bed with her, pulling her to lay on his chest as he adjusted the blankets around her. Her skin was still warm to the touch, and he held her close, wrapping both arms around his little girl while she spoke about her day, whining about her day and about being sick. She was always extra clingy when he came back from his trips.

Lewis gently played with her curls while she spoke, muttering his uh-hu, and yeah, and his of course, baby, until she started slurring out the words and slowly falling asleep.

He smiled, despite the worry, he was glad to be there finally, to be with his wife and daughter.

When you came back to the room, Ivy was sleeping against Lewis’ chest just like she used to do as a newborn, Lewis gently rubbing her back and getting drool in his shirt. You handed him a coffee, and he drank without moving a muscle so as to not wake up your little girl.

The doctor came a few minutes later, checking on Ivy and making sure she was fine and the fever was subsiding, he said it was just a little cold and prescribed a couple of meds.

Lewis carried your little girl to the car seat, while you hugged Anthony goodbye and thanked him profusely for keeping you company when you were going to the hospital earlier. After that, you went home driving, Lewis in the passenger seat.

Arriving home, Lewis carried Ivy to her little bed, tucking her in and touching her forehead to make sure the fever was really gone. When he returned to the bedroom, you had taken a quick shower and was dressed in soft, comfortable pajamas.

“How are you, love?” He asked as you walked lazily up to him and he wrapped his arms around your mirror, pulling you into his chest.

“Just a little tired…” You mumbled, and he pecked your lips, walking you back towards the bed.

“Thank you for taking care of her today, love. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for most of it…” He whispered affectionately into your skin.

“It’s okay, you had work… I’m glad you came straight home to us.” You muttered as he placed you in bed, tucking you in.

“I love you,” He tugged your hand and kissed your knuckles.

He let you fall asleep while he took a quick shower too, changing into PJs before going to check on Ivy again. The doctor had assured that the medicine would take her out for the night, but she’d be totally better the following morning.

When he got in bed with you again, pulling you closer, his arm around your middle, his leg between yours and your face pressed into his chest, he finally breathed. He had been tense the whole day from being away from you and Ivy, worry gnawing at him, and guilt for being away in moments like these. Not only tough moments like this, but also the happy ones. He wondered what else he’d miss of Ivy growing up, and he had missed so much already.

That was the first time he truly contemplated retirement. 

[towriteloveontheirarms]

I know who I married (Aemond Targaryen

x Reader)

synopsis: When you confront your husband about what had happened at Rook´s Rest, it doesn´t end like you would have thought.

warnings: slight angst in the beginning, smut, p in v, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @legitalicat

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

“Go now. Before I say something we both regret.” Aemond pulls away from you abruptly.

It was a sight that you had rarely seen from your once loving husband. His coldness now was a stark contrast. Yet he hasn't seemed quite like himself ever since your father's passing to begin with. Still, when he confessed to you what he had done to his brother at Rook's rest, shock would be an understatement of what you had felt in that moment.

“Aemond, husband, I do not pretend to know the challenges you are facing, but I am not afraid of you. I know who I married.” You look him hard in the eye, trying to push past his inner walls.

You take a step towards him, with your arms wrapped tightly around your middle, only to gasp out and stumble backwards when Aemond turns back and grabs your wrist almost painfully tight. His thumb rubs against your pulse point in a gesture both possessive and tender. His other hand rises to grab your chin.

"And who did you marry, hm?" The prince murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "The prince with the scarred face and the icy heart? Or the man who burns for you in the dead of night?"

His words are a dare, a challenge. In this moment, with you standing before him, vulnerable and unafraid, he feels the weight of his actions threatening to crush him.

“I married both of those men and yet neither of them. You are so much more than just that. So much more than just the darkness that you have embraced as of late and that you feel so comfortable in.” You state with a fragile and even for yourself surprising calm.

“Lies.” He spits the word out as if it is made of pure venom. “Darkness has reigned over my every breathing moment for years now.”

“Yet without light there could not be any darkness. There is good in you. I can feel it.” You insist and it is that insistence, that brings a wet shine to his blue eye that hasn't been there a moment ago along with something else. Something akin to hope.

“If there was only darkness inside of you, I would not be able to feel the light burning under your skin.”

For a blink of a moment, Aemond’s grip on your wrist tightens. Until with stuttering motions it is released entirely. His hand falls limp to his side and for what feels like an eternity there is only silence drumming in your ears, mixed with heavy breathing from high strung emotions bubbling in both of you.

The stillness is broken by Aemond pulling you closer by the chin, eager lips pressing against yours. His tongue parts your from shock frozen lips, desperate for something neither of you fully understand yet. And neither of you wants to think about it any deeper right now either. It is easier to just give in to the passion. Tongues dancing and exploring each other’s mouth like this is the first kiss you have ever shared. All the while, your lips refuse to separate from each other for even the shortest amount of time, tethered together as if you were the force keeping the other on the ground instead of gravity.

Even more desperate hands begin to run up and down your sides, barely taking in the smooth silk fabric of your dress, before he spins you around, pressing your front against the cold stone wall. Leaning in, Aemond presses his mouth against her ear. For a moment his mind grows dark again, his breath hot against her skin.

"You should be afraid, wife. Afraid of the darkness that lurks within me, waiting to consume us both." He growls, ripping the front of your dress down to your stomach, eliciting a sharp gasp.

The warm fingers that curl around the swell of your breast immediately after making goosebumps erupt over the sensitive skin. Despite the warning in his words, his touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if savoring the feel of your soft flesh.

Teasing the peaks with feather light touches, while his hips rut against your backside forcefully. Encouraged by you pressing back against him.

With an impatient growl Aemond turns you around again, ripping the torn fabric off entirely to expose your body to the chilly air.

You stumble slightly from the sheer force of the pull on the dress. He gives you barely enough time to find your footing again, before he crowds you, backwards, onto the bed. Shedding his own clothes in the process. Your back hits the mattress and elicits a tiny gasp from your lungs. Aemond's fingertips leave behind burning rivers in your nervous system as they trail over your inner arms up to your wrists. Gripping them and pinning them over your head. It's like dragonfire erupts in your system, setting it aflame with want. The mattress dips between your legs and head as he crawls over you, held up by one hand to not crush you under his frame. Your breaths mingle in the little space left between your faces, making for a heavy as well as heady atmosphere. Then, tantalisingly slow, he lets go of your wrists and trails his fingers downward.

Once the tips of the slender digits reach the heat at the apex between your thighs, he delves two of them into your velvety channel. The motions with which he pumps them into you are experimental. Still trying to gauge your reaction to every action. Every curl of his fingers and brush of the thumb against your clit pulling a sigh from your lungs gets saved in the back of his mind. Sighs turn into whimpers, your body begins writhing beneath and your hands cup his cheeks to pull him into another kiss, making Aemond swallow every whimper and whine. The now wet fingers soon after get pulled out of your fluttering cunt and dig into the mattress as well. His cock glides along your folds and teasing the sensitive nub atop some more until you reach down and align the blunt tip with your channel, angling your hips upwards ever so slightly for him to bury himself inside on the next stroke. Your moans as he does, fill the room in unison. The pace of Aemond's thrusts is slow, savouring every moment of the way your cunt is hugging his cock. The movements still stutter every now and again. Each thrust is measured, calculated.

Unlike the times before, there is an air of wanting to prolong this experience for both him and you, instead of having it be over as quickly as possible. A glimmer in his lone purple eye, a relaxation in his sharp facial features.

The wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh fills the warm chamber and sweat runs down your temples from the heated atmosphere. Gently you reach up to wipe the droplets of his forehead as Aemond continuously thrusts into you. Your eyes hold his gaze tirelessly, not wishing to look away for even the shortest moment.

“You can go faster if you wish.” You murmur, intertwining your fingers at the back of his neck.

To encourage him further, you grind your hips against his just a little harder.

Aemond swallows hard. “I do not wish to end this… encounter so soon.”

“We do not have to, if we do not wish.” You reply softly.

The reassurance drives Aemond hips faster into yours, reaching a deeper point than before. One that has your legs close around his sides in an instant.

The mattress dips beside you once more as Aemond brings one of his hands down to your breasts. Kneading it and rolling the nipple between his nimble fingers. The other one gets sucked between his warm lips. Until they are nothing more than hard peaks and your back arches off the mattress against his body. Searching for ever more friction. As a direct consequence of the movement, your heels dig deeper into his lower back, driving him towards release even further, to spur him on just a little more. The two of you spiralling quickly into the descend of pleasure of the moment and each other’s company.

Your heels dig a little deeper into his back and as he releases your breast from between his lips, just in time for his laboured breaths to culminate in an early and powerful climax.

The one-eyed prince buries himself deep inside of your cunny, filling it with his warm seed. Shuddering and biting back a groan to the best of his ability, while he struggles to keep himself from crushing you.

“Oh, I-…” Aemond begins to speak quietly, his voice still trembling slightly from the exertion that has just been put onto his body.

He is silenced, however, by your own soft lips brushing against his red, burning cheeks.

“This does not have to be the end of it.” You simply remind him once more.

If he wouldn't have looked so genuinely upset about what he thought was letting you down, he would have looked utterly adorable. Aemond takes a deep breath to recover and then his hips start moving again. Each thrust thrumming with determination to give you your release as well.

The renewed intensity has your nails scraping over his pale shoulders. Making your head fall back and baring your neck to the sensual assault of Aemond's lips, which take the chance to attack the sensitive skin with wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Aemond, I am so close.” The breathless whisper escapes through your lust-addled mind. No longer a filter there to hold anything back.

The warning comes just in time as well. Your legs begin to tremble and keep Aemond's length lodged as deeply inside your center as he reaches. Your nails leave crescent indents where you hold on to his shoulders and you squirm underneath him uncontrollably. Clenching and unclenching around the thickness filling you up.

You hold him in place until the trembling of your body subsides and all that is left is your heavy breathing as Aemond rides out the last waves of your climax. Shuddering himself as he fills you up once more in the process. Unlike before however, there is no tension following. Simply pulling his softening cock out of your fluttering walls as the two of you lay beside each other in the bed, the blanket wrapped tightly around your shivering form from the cold air blowing over your sweat sickened skin.

You lay an arm over Aemond's chest and revel in the warmth of his body. For a moment the room is filled with silence, save for the bustle outside the chamber doors and down in the courtyard.

“If you did not believe me before, mayhaps this will serve as proof that you cannot be as evil as you claim. If you were, you would not have cared for me like this.” You purr, looking up at him. Aemond in turn has his eyes closed basking in the gentle attention of your hand caressing his cheekbone. At the declaration, he holds on to your wrist and focuses his gaze on you again.

“No matter what happens, whatever I do, I will always care for you.” He pulls you closer into his side and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

[carnationworld-writings]

The Man He Didn’t Have to Be (Tim Bradford x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Tim Bradford x reader

Universe: The Rookie

Word Count: 3857

Requested: No

Warnings: pregnancy, divorce, ex-husband who is a piece of s*it, mention of childbirth

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your well-being is a top priority to me.

Summary: When her world crumbles, Tim is there to step up.

Author’s note:

Surprise! I am alive! I know it's not what you wanted but, I started watching "The Rookie" and fell in love with Tim! So I needed to write something about him. I also may have a baby fever (again...) So this fic happened. Enjoy!

Thank you for taking the time to read my work! I would greatly appreciate any feedback you may have as it motivates me to continue improving. Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts!

And please forgive any grammar or spelling errors, as English is not my first language.

Klaudia 💜

Every time she thought her life couldn’t get worse, something new seemed to be waiting for her. First, her husband announced he was leaving, telling her he’d found a woman he loved in a way he had never loved her. She tried to fight for their marriage and convince him to change his mind, but nothing worked. With a broken heart, she finally decided to let him go. Even though her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, she signed the divorce papers. She attempted to rebuild her life—she found a small apartment, focused on her work, and tried not to sink into depression during the long, lonely hours. Thankfully, she wasn’t entirely alone. Tim Bradford, her best friend for years, had always been by her side, even in the middle of the night when she couldn’t stop crying or obsessing over what had gone wrong in her relationship. He was her rock, her greatest support.

Just when she thought her life was starting to settle down, she began feeling unwell. At first, she attributed it to stress, but eventually, she connected the dots and took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. She knew her ex-husband deserved to know the truth, even if he hadn’t been entirely honest with her. So, she texted him and asked to meet. What followed, however, was nothing short of her worst nightmare.

When they met at the café, she felt as if time had slowed down. He sat across from her, completely indifferent, as if everything that had happened between them was a closed chapter. He looked at her with a cold gaze, waiting for her to speak. She struggled to gather the strength to say the words that had been swirling in her head for days.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said, looking straight at him, searching for any reaction. His face remained expressionless. For a moment, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her. But after a second, his lips tightened, and his eyes showed a flicker of displeasure.

“The relationship between us was over long before I found someone else. This changes nothing,” he said coldly. Those words cut her like a knife. 

“I’m not telling you to come back to me… It’s your child and deserves to have a father… ” she tried to insist, though her voice trembled.

“That’s your problem. You’ll have to deal with it,” he replied emotionlessly, standing up from the table as if the meeting had been nothing more than an irritating interruption in his perfectly arranged new life.

When he left, she felt as if the world was collapsing around her. Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time, she wasn’t going to cry. Instead, she pulled out her phone and called Tim. As soon as he heard her voice, he knew something was wrong.

“Where are you?” he asked, no questions needed. “I’m on my way.”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes before Tim was by her side, his eyes filled with concern. Without a word, he pulled her close, letting her lean on him as she fought back the tears. In his presence, she felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

“Tim… There’s something you should know. I…” She took a shaky breath. She felt his hold tighten around her. He rested his cheek against her head, softly rubbing her back with his hand.

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. Like we always do,” he said calmly, trying to give her as much comfort as possible.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. “And it’s his. But he said it’s only my problem. He doesn’t want anything to do with this baby…” For a moment, his face showed surprise, as if he was trying to process what he had just heard. He didn’t say anything at first, pulling back slightly to look at her, and she wasn’t sure how he would react. She feared that silence, that hesitation.

“Okay,” he finally said, slowly. Tim pressed his lips together, clearly upset, though he tried to stay calm. “He’s a jerk. But you won’t go through this alone. You’ll never be alone—I won’t let that happen.”

True to his word, Tim never let her feel alone. From the moment he learned about her pregnancy, he stepped naturally into a role that felt both essential and reassuring. He took over her usual shopping, refusing to let her carry a single bag, insisting it was the least he could do. Each morning, he arrived at her door with fresh breakfast, right after his run with Kojo, the loyal dog who seemed to sense the changes happening in their lives.

Even during his shifts, Tim made it a point to check-in. He texted her regularly, asking how she felt, and called just to hear her voice, attuned to any subtle shifts in her mood. But his favourite part of the day was always the evenings when he would come to her home. Most nights, she greeted him with a smile, though the fatigue etched on her face often told a different story. Each time, he pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her like a protective blanket. Some nights she hugged him back just as tightly; other times, she simply leaned into him, letting him hold her. On those nights, he sent her to the couch, where Kojo would curl up beside her, resting his head on her lap, seeking her affection.

Tim loved cooking dinner for them, always mindful of preparing meals that wouldn’t upset her stomach. He quickly learned what she could tolerate and what made her feel worse. On the rare occasions, his cooking didn’t go as planned, he would kneel beside her in the bathroom, holding her hair back and rubbing her back—his unwavering support something she had come to rely on deeply.

What he cherished most were their late-night conversations. They talked endlessly, about work, their future, and even the small details of their day. These talks deepened their bond with each passing evening.

But tonight felt different. From the moment he arrived, he noticed the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her thoughts seemed miles away. Sensing the shift, he suggested watching a movie they’d been meaning to catch up on. She quietly agreed, thankful for the distraction, and didn’t protest when he pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her.

As they settled in, her hand absentmindedly rested on her stomach, where a small bump had just begun to show. Though she tried not to dwell on it, her mind wandered back to something a colleague had said earlier. The words echoed painfully in her thoughts—that it was her fault her husband had left, and that Tim was only with her out of pity. The sting of those words hung heavy on her heart. Tim had always been her rock, but now, more than ever, she felt guilty leaning on him. This wasn’t his burden to carry; she had to find her strength in the chaos.

“Tim,” she began softly, breaking the silence. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into something you didn’t sign up for. This isn’t your responsibility. Me, this baby… we’re not your burden.”

Tim frowned, shaking his head firmly. “That’s not how I see it. I want to be here. I choose to be here. You’re important to me—always have been, always will be. Now that just extends to your baby too. You’re not dragging me into anything. I’m choosing this.”

She blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. The certainty in his voice made her heart ache in the best possible way. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to go through this alone. Yet doubt still lingered on the edges of her mind.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. “This is going to change everything.”

“I’m sure,” he replied without hesitation. Gently, he placed his hand over hers, almost covering her small bump. “We’re in this together. All three of us.” They both chuckled softly as Kojo, lying contentedly by her feet, gave a small bark. “Alright, four of us,” Tim added with a grin.

She nodded slowly and leaned back against his side. No matter what uncertainties lay ahead, Tim brought peace and safety into her life. As she felt him press a soft kiss on the top of her head, she knew that he was in this 100 percent. With him by her side, she felt ready to face every step of the journey ahead.

As the movie played in the background, a warm sense of comfort washed over her. Despite the unknowns of the future, she had her best friend, someone who believed in both her and the life they were building together. And together, they could face whatever came next.

The quiet hum of the ultrasound machine filled the small room, the rhythmic beeps syncing with her heartbeat. The sound, once foreign and unnerving, had become strangely comforting, marking each milestone of a journey she’d never thought possible. Lying back, her hand rested gently on her growing belly, feeling the warmth of the life moving inside her—a sensation that was as awe-inspiring as it was surreal. The nurse moved the cold, gel-covered probe across her skin, and though a shiver ran up her spine, she barely registered it. Her eyes were locked on the screen, waiting for the familiar grainy image of her baby to appear.

And then it did—a blur at first, slowly sharpening into the unmistakable shape of tiny hands and feet, twisting and turning as if to greet them. A soft gasp escaped her lips. No matter how many times she witnessed this, it always left her breathless.

Tim sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the monitor, a quiet smile playing on his lips. His face, usually so composed, softened with awe. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, but moments like these stripped away his calm facade. Without thinking, his hand found hers, their fingers entwining in a silent exchange of support. He gave her a gentle squeeze, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss on the top of her hand. It was a gesture so natural, so full of unspoken affection, that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

"Everything looks perfect," the nurse said, her tone upbeat as she wiped the gel from her belly. "Baby’s healthy and growing right on track."

She nodded, a wave of relief washing over her. The tight knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in her chest loosened—if only a little. Each passing month had brought new fears and uncertainties, but slowly, those feelings were giving way to cautious hope. It had taken longer than she expected to feel this way, but now, she could finally begin to see herself as a mother. And in every vision of that future, Tim was always there, steady and unwavering, just as he had been from the beginning.

After the appointment, Tim stood and offered her his hand, helping her off the exam table with the ease of someone who had been there through every step. His presence had become her constant, a source of comfort she hadn’t known she would need but now couldn’t imagine living without. Over the months, he had kept every promise, never wavering, never complaining—always there, even when she didn’t know how to ask for help.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as they stepped outside the clinic, the crisp air hitting their faces. His hand hovered near her arm, close but not quite touching—a subtle, protective gesture, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

“I’m good,” she said, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

He nodded, clearly pleased, though his eyes still scanned hers, searching for any sign of discomfort or worry. “You’re handling this like a champ,” he said softly.

She let out a light laugh. “I don’t always feel like it, but I’m trying.”

As they walked to his car, their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm, the silence between them comfortable and familiar. When they reached the car, Tim opened the passenger door for her, but before getting in, she paused, turning to face him, her expression suddenly serious.

“Tim,” she began, her voice quiet but steady, “you’ve been amazing. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I mean it. You’ve taken care of us—even though you didn’t have to.”

He looked at her, his warm, reassuring smile never faltering. “You don’t need to thank me,” he replied softly. “I’m just glad I can be here.”

But she saw something flicker in his eyes—something deeper, something he wasn’t saying. Tim was always so careful, so controlled with his emotions, but she had known him long enough to recognize when he was holding something back. Yet she didn’t press him. Not now.

As they drove back to her apartment, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—baby names they hadn’t yet decided on, the nursery they were slowly piecing together, and the never-ending stream of baby books filling her apartment. They laughed about the absurd number of gadgets people swore they "needed" for a newborn, trading jokes about the most ridiculous ones.

Yet beneath their playful banter, there was a tension neither acknowledged, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Tim had always kept his distance emotionally, respectful of her space, never pushing her for more than she was ready to give. He had made it clear from the start that he was there to support her, no matter what, and he had lived up to that promise in every way. But that didn’t stop his heart from racing when she smiled, or the way his pulse quickened when their hands brushed accidentally.

He had loved her for years—long before she had married before everything had fallen apart with her ex-husband. Tim had watched her fall for someone else, had been there when her heart broke, and now, here he was, still by her side. Taking care of her, taking care of the baby that wasn’t his.

He never said anything. He couldn’t. His feelings had to wait. Right now, all that mattered was her and the baby. His love, his desires—they would come later. For now, being there was enough. It had to be.

As the weeks passed, their lives settled into a comforting rhythm, though they didn’t notice the subtle shift that began to happen between them. Unspoken feelings hovered just beneath the surface, and they found themselves growing closer, more open with one another. Friends started to notice too. They exchanged knowing smiles as Tim’s touch lingered a little longer on her arm or back.

Angela Lopez had rolled her eyes more than once when hearing endless stories about “Tim’s friend” and all the thoughtful things he did for her and the baby. Whenever she visited the station with sweet treats for everyone, Angela often caught Tim and her in quiet moments, where their connection seemed palpable. More than once, Angela noticed the way she would place his hand over her bump when the baby kicked, and how Tim responded with a smile that said more than words ever could.

The biggest change came one evening while they were assembling the crib. She sat comfortably in a rocking chair, one hand resting on her belly, the other absentmindedly petting Kojo’s head as he lay beside her. The dog had become as protective of her as Tim was, always at her side when he could be.

She watched as Tim wrestled with the instruction manual, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re doing it wrong,” she teased, smiling.

“I am not,” he shot back, glancing up with mock indignation. “I’ve got this.”

As he fumbled with the crib parts, she laughed—a sound that felt like a rare gift these days. For a moment, it was just like old times—before the pregnancy, before the heartbreak. Just the two of them, shared an easy, familiar joy that felt like home.

Tim looked up from the pieces scattered on the floor and froze for a second, watching her laugh. He hadn’t heard that sound in too long. It was unguarded, real. He smiled, letting himself soak in the moment.

“Well, if you’re so good at this, why don’t you help instead of just sitting there judging my work?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned. “I’m perfectly comfortable where I am, thanks. Besides, you’re doing great. It’s... entertaining.”

He chuckled and shook his head, returning to the task, muttering under his breath about her stubbornness. But secretly, he didn’t mind. Knowing she was there, watching him, laughing—it felt right. Like this was exactly where they were meant to be.

As the crib finally took shape, something between them shifted. There was an unspoken understanding in the air, something neither had fully acknowledged until now. Tim glanced at her, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek longer than necessary. She leaned into his touch, her breath catching in her throat.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Without thinking, Tim leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, hesitant. But when she kissed him back, her hand slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. This—this—was where they were always meant to end up.

Together.

She struggled to breathe deeply as she slowly made her way down the hospital corridor, her grip tightening around the IV stand. Another contraction surged through her, pulling a low moan from her lips. She tried to focus on the gentle support of Nyla’s hand on her arm, but the pain was too consuming—sharp and overwhelming. When it finally ebbed, she glanced over at Nyla, her eyes filled with worry.

“Have you heard from Tim?” Her voice cracked, and tears welled up as she caught Nyla’s sympathetic smile.

“I texted him, and Grey knows to pass the message along. He’s coming,” Nyla reassured her. “Tim wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

She nodded, but a flicker of doubt gnawed at her. “I hope so… I don’t know if I can do this without him.” Her words were barely more than a whisper, her emotions unravelling.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Nyla said softly, her hand squeezing in quiet encouragement. “But he’ll be here, don’t worry.”

She tried to smile, but the uncertainty lingered. Tim had been her rock for so long—how could she face this moment without him? Nyla’s presence was a comfort, but it wasn’t the same.

They continued their slow walk back to the room for another check-up. The nurse met them with a concerned expression before examining her. When she announced that she was still far from delivering, a groan of frustration escaped her. She sank onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” she whispered, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I just want to hold my baby.” Nyla brushed a lock of hair from her face, her steady presence an anchor.

“Soon,” she promised gently. “Soon.”

The hours crawled by in a blur of contractions and fleeting moments of rest. She clung to Nyla’s guidance, her body trembling from fatigue until the door suddenly swung open. Her breath caught as Tim rushed inside, his face flushed with worry.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, hurrying to her side. His hand found hers instantly, and the crushing weight of fear lifted just a little.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice breaking with relief as fresh tears filled her eyes. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, his touch grounding her in the storm of pain and anxiety.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. His presence radiated warmth, steadying her as another contraction gripped her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she managed between ragged breaths, her emotions spiralling. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”

“You would,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “But now that I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” His gaze held hers, his thumb brushing soothing circles on her skin as another wave of pain washed over her.

They endured the hours together, Tim never leaving her side. His strength, and his quiet, unwavering support gave her the determination she needed to push through. The world blurred around them as they focused on bringing this new life into the world.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the sharp, piercing cry of a newborn filled the room. She gasped, tears streaming down her face as the nurse placed the tiny, wriggling bundle on her chest. Her arms instinctively wrapped around the baby, and she looked up at Tim. His eyes were wide, filled with awe and tears he didn’t bother to wipe away.

She looked down at the baby, overwhelmed by the fragile, perfect little face scrunched up in protest. "Hi, sweet baby," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Her fingers brushed gently over the baby’s soft cheek. "I’m your mom."

Tim stood by her side, his hand resting on her shoulder as he gazed at the baby with pure wonder. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "She’s perfect," he whispered, unable to look away.

“We did it,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his in a moment of shared joy.

Tim bent down, pressing a kiss to the baby’s head. "Welcome to the world," he murmured. "We’ve been waiting for you."

The baby’s cries softened, and the room fell into a peaceful quiet as if time had paused, leaving just the three of them cocooned in the moment. She couldn’t stop the tears—this time, they were tears of love, of pure joy. This was a happiness she had never known, a completeness she hadn’t imagined was possible.

“Do you want to hold her?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Tim hesitated but then nodded, his hands gentle as the nurse helped him take the baby into his arms. He cradled the tiny bundle as though it were the most precious thing in the world, and in that moment, his love was unmistakable.

"Hi there... I’m Tim," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He paused, then added, “I’m not your dad, but I promise I’ll love you like one.”

Her heart swelled at his words. Reaching out, she rested her hand on his arm, gazing at the baby in his arms. “Tim... you are the father she deserves. You’ve cared for her from the start. You’ve been there every step of the way... and I love you for that.”

As the baby stirred, Tim smiled through his tears, and for the first time, she felt truly whole. This was their family—imperfect, unexpected, but overflowing with love. And as Tim bent down to kiss her lips, sealing the moment, she knew that they had found their way home.