#it’s too new and raw and they both need to figure out how to Be together

[thebookworm0001]

ideas beginning to solidify for post veilguard fic things

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

Unspoken Understandings

part 2 to “Shattered Silence” (Jayce Talis x reader)

Part 1

Summary: After that fateful night in the lab both ,Jayce and you, have been unsure how to address the sudden shift in your dynamic. However, sometimes all it takes is a certain yordle to force Jayce to take a break from his work and leave the lab.

Warnings: none, no spoilers for s2, no canon plot, a good amount of domestic fluff

Notes: I am really REALLY surprised about how much love “Shattered Silence” has received and hope that you enjoy this follow up just as much. <3 Once again , this has been written in my notes app, I hope I didn’t miss any mistakes.

Tags🏷️ @a-queen-blr @anxious-doodler @brabuscoffwe

The days after the break-in were a blur of frantic packing and moving. You had to find a new place fast—nothing too fancy, just something safe, something that could hold your things and the remaining bits of your research. But the weight of it all pressed down on you, your muscles aching from days spent running between your old and new apartment. You didn’t have the luxury of time to process what had happened the night you stormed into the lab, or even think much about him.

But the nights…

The nights were when you couldn’t stop thinking about how, despite everything, Jayce had held you. How, for a brief moment, you had leaned into him without fear of rejection. You’d allowed yourself to feel vulnerable, and he hadn’t pushed you away.

Now, you found yourself trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest every time you thought about him, but the silence between you both felt suffocating.

Meanwhile, Jayce had buried himself in his work. The breakthrough he’d been chasing for months was nearly within reach, and that goal, that obsession, kept him up at night. But even as his mind raced with equations and possibilities, something nagged at him—a thought that he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.

It had started that night when you had collapsed into his arms, your trembling form clinging onto him like a lifeline. The way your body had felt in his embrace, how you had allowed him to hold and comfort you… something about it just felt right. And the days since? It was almost like he couldn't think straight without you. Your presence had become something he couldn’t quite get out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, your face would appear—raw, vulnerable, but somehow more real than anything else in his life.

But what exactly was that thing between you? Was it something real, or just the aftershock of an unexpected and stressful situation? Jayce couldn’t even bring himself to ask.

---

It was late when Heimerdinger found him pacing in the lab, his mind so tangled in equations that the pieces didn’t seem to fit anymore.

“You’re working too hard, Jayce.” Heimerdinger’s voice was calm, but there was a quiet insistence behind it. He hadn’t seen the young inventor so distracted in what felt like ages.

Jayce, who had been scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, didn’t even look up. “I’m close to figuring this out. I just need a few more adjustments,” he said, but his voice lacked the usual tone of conviction.

Heimerdinger tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze studying the younger man. It didn’t take long for him to figure out the nature of the inventor’s problems. “You were always quick to tell me how distracting it was when you were around her. How you could hardly think clearly when she was near.” Heimerdinger spoke , a nonchalant tone covering up the intention behind his statement.

Jayce froze, his pen hovering mid-air. He couldn’t remember ever having said that, but since the incident the times of feeling annoyed by you felt so far away. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. That really had been how he’d felt around you, hadn’t it? You had always found a way of breaking through his concentration, making him second-guess his thoughts and decisions.

But now? He didn’t feel distracted anymore. The thought of you didn’t pull him away from his work—it was more like you were... quieting the noise in his mind. Every time he thought about you, his thoughts slowed, calmed. The gears in his brain didn’t spin at a hundred miles per hour anymore. They… rested.

Sighing, Jayce met Heimerdinger’s knowing gaze. "It’s not the same,” he said, his voice quieter now, unsure. “It’s... different.”

Heimerdinger gave him a pointed look, crossing his arms behind his back as he looked up at the young man. “You’ve been working non-stop for days, Jayce. Sometimes the best breakthroughs come when we step away from the work for a little while. You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep this up."

Jayce opened his mouth to argue, but Heimerdinger was already walking toward the door. “I’m forcing you out of here. Take a break. Go see her,” he said, an almost cheerful tone in his voice. And with that, he was gone.

Jayce sat in stunned silence for a moment, the yordle’s words hanging in the air. Go see her? If he was honest to himself, he hadn’t even thought about it. A part of his mind harbouring a feeling of anxiousness regarding the inevitable confrontation. But something in Heimerdinger’s voice made him hesitate. It was as if the older man had seen through all the layers of self-doubt Jayce had buried himself under.

With the scrape of his chair he stood up. He needed to get out of the lab. He needed to breathe. He needed to see you.

---

It wasn’t hard to find your new place. Jayce had always been able to track down anything and anyone, with ease—Piltover wasn’t exactly a large city after all.

But as he stood outside your new apartment, his stomach churned. The weight of everything he had avoided saying hung over him like a dark storm cloud. He had no idea how this would play out—what could he even say? That he hadn’t been able to think straight since the night you’d come to him? That he’d wanted to be there for you, but had no clue how to navigate what had happened between you both?

But before he could completely lose his nerve, the door to the apartment opened, and you appeared.

You looked… tired. Your hair was pulled back in a messy up-do, and your shirt was slightly wrinkled, but there was something comforting about the chaos surrounding you. Not wanting to stare , his golden eyes quickly drifting to the space behind you. It was clearly your place now, your sanctuary, but it was still a work in progress.

You saw him before he could even open his mouth to say anything, and a flicker of surprise crossed your face. “Jayce? What are you—”

“I—uh, I came to check on you,” he said, running a hand through his hair, suddenly awkward. His nervous gaze switching back and forth between you and the wood on your door. “See how you’re doing… with the new place and everything.”

You raised an eyebrow but stepped aside, allowing him to enter. “Well,” you said with a tired half-smile, “it’s been a lot of work. Still don’t know where half my things are.”

Jayce chuckled as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His mind reeling at how your presence suddenly made him feel less anxious, like he didn’t have to carry his burdens anymore . Not here, not now.

You motioned toward a pile of boxes in the corner of the living room, your smile sheepish, almost apologetic. “You wouldn’t happen to be good at putting together furniture, would you?”

Without a second thought, Jayce was moving toward the pile, rolling up his sleeves with a quiet determination. “I can manage,” he said with a grin, glancing back at you. “But only if you promise not to laugh at my attempts.”

You smirked, feeling a flicker of warmth in your chest. “No promises,” you teased, but there was a lightness in your voice now where tiredness had been before.

For the next few hours, the two of you worked side by side, not really talking, but filling the space between you with easy silence. There was something almost intimate in the simplicity of it—a shared task, each moment feeling like it stitched something new into the fabric of your newfound connection. The screech of a screwdriver, the soft clink of metal against wood, and the occasional, shared chuckle when one of you fumbled—it was like you were building something together, but not just the furniture. It was this. Whatever it was that had started to grow between you.

You worked in rhythm, so comfortable with him that it didn’t even feel strange. You caught yourself looking up at him a few times, watching the way he moved, how the muscles in his arms flexed when assembling the pieces and silently admiring the way the light caught the lines of his face. Jayce wasn’t just the scientist, the bold, sometimes aloof figure you'd known—here, in this space, he felt… real. Vulnerable, even. The arrogant mask you had become so accustomed to had slipped away, leaving only the person beneath. And for the first time, you saw him as someone who was just as human as you.

When the last piece of furniture was assembled, both of you collapsed onto the couch. The apartment was still a mess, but somehow, it felt more like home now. After hours of unpacking, moving boxes, and trying to make sense of the chaos, you and Jayce had both reached a kind of quiet, shared exhaustion. There was something about the way the late afternoon light filtered through the windows—golden and warm—that made everything feel a little less overwhelming.

Jayce was beside you on the couch, leaning back against the cushions with his sleeves still rolled up, hair unkempt and his face still a little flushed from the work. Normally, by now you’d be bickering with each other, exchanging sarcastic remarks til one of you would have enough and storm out of the room. But ever since your distraught form had stormed into his lab, that usual dynamic was missing. The crackling back-and-forth had faded into something quieter, something more... honest.

“So, this is it, huh?” you said, glancing around the room. It was a mix of completed and incomplete, a snapshot of a new beginning. “Still a long way to go, but... it’s getting there.”

Jayce surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on the boxes and the half-finished furniture scattered around. “It’s... definitely not what I expected,” he said, his lips twitching into a smile. “You still got a ton of stuff for someone who has been robbed.” You laughed lightly, but it wasn’t a tense laugh like it would have been just a few days ago. It was more... genuine.

The silence stretched a little longer, and you found yourself thinking about how easily you used to hide behind the jabs and insults. You had both spent so much time pretending—pretending that you couldn’t stand each other, pretending like there was nothing more beneath the surface. But nevertheless, despite years of constant back and forth, Jayce had been the one your heart had led you to when your mind was in a state of absolute panic.

“You know, I’ve spent a lot of time pretending,” you said softly, looking at him from the corner of your eye. “Pretending like we couldn’t get along, pretending like I didn’t... care.”

Jayce’s eyes flicked over to you, something unreadable in his gaze. For a moment, he didn’t respond, allowing the truth to settle between you.

“I think I was pretending, too,” he said finally, his voice low and honest. “Pretending I didn’t want... this.” He gestured loosely between you two, his hand hovering in the air, as if the words were more difficult to articulate than the feelings behind them.

There it was. That truth you had both danced around for so long. And now, it didn’t feel awkward. It felt like a breath you both had been holding ever since Jayce had comforted you that fateful night, waiting for the right moment to exhale.

You turned toward him, your body instinctively moving closer. You didn’t have to think about it. The space between you was just too small now, too important to leave empty. As if by reflex, your hand reached out, softly brushing his arm, letting your fingers rest gently against his. The touch was tentative at first but you felt him respond instantly—his hand turning slightly, his fingers seeking yours, meeting you halfway.

It was subtle, a small connection that sent a rush of warmth through you. Neither of you said anything. The words didn’t feel necessary anymore. Jayce shifted a little, his knee brushing against yours, his hand gently drawing you closer. He wasn’t in a rush. You weren’t either. But as the space between you closed even more, something shifted, and you both knew the moment was right.

Jayce’s thumb traced along the back of your hand, his touch light but deliberate. Slowly, he turned toward you, his body leaning in, and you could feel his breath on your lips before his mouth even touched yours. It wasn’t a desperate move, but one full of quiet intent, like this was something that had been building between you for far too long.

His lips met yours gently at first—just a soft brush, testing, as though waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. Neither of you did. The kiss deepened, slowly, naturally. His hand moved to your jaw, tilting your head slightly as his other hand slid around your waist, his electric touch finding its way underneath your shirt, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body against yours felt so right, so easy, just like it had back in the lab when he had shielded you from your troubles, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You melted into him. There was no rush, no hesitation now. Just the soft pressure of his lips on yours, the tender way his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if memorizing the feel of of your skin underneath his fingertips.

When you pulled back, there was no immediate rush to fill the space with words. The air between you felt charged, but in a quiet, intimate way. You both breathed deeply, your lips tingling from the kiss, your pulse still racing a marathon in your chest.

Jayce’s hand lingered on your waist, his thumb absently tracing circles on your skin. “Guess we don’t have to pretend to not like each other anymore,” he murmured, his voice hushed, almost unsure, like the weight of everything was finally settling in. You shook your head slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as your hand found his again. “No. I guess not.”

Jayce leaned back into the couch, his body angled closer to yours now. His eyes twinkled with that familiar teasing glint, but there was something new in the way he looked at you. Something lighter. “So, dinner? I think I’ve earned it.”

You chuckled, your fingers still intertwined with his as you stood. “You’ve already helped me move half my furniture, Jayce. You’re definitely sticking around.”

He flashed you a relaxed grin, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied sigh. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”

Letting go of his hand, you turned toward the kitchen, starting to gather ingredients, and Jayce followed you, leaning in just enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Need any help?”

You glanced at him with a smile. “Unless you’ve got a Hextech gadget to chop vegetables, I’ve got it under control.”

Jayce chuckled and stepped back, settling in at the table as you started to prepare a meal. There was something comforting in his quiet presence, in the easy rhythm of the evening. You moved around each other effortlessly, the space between you filled with warmth rather than words.

Soon enough, you set the table and sat down together, the simple meal feeling more like a shared moment than just food. Jayce took a bite, then raised an eyebrow in approval. “I’m impressed. Didn’t expect you to be this good at it.”

You laughed, your fingers brushing his as you reached for your drink. “I’m full of surprises.” He smiled at that, his eyes lingering on your face , as if trying to capture the moment.

After dinner, you started to clear the table and do the dishes when Jayce moved to help. You smiled and gently took the dish towel from his hands. “I’ve got this,” you said softly. He gave you a mock pout in return. “I was just getting into it.” Looking up at him, you smiled fondly at his behaviour. “You’ve done enough for today.”

Jayce stepped closer, golden eyes soft as his hand reached out for the towel again. “I don’t mind,” he murmured, his warmth filling the tiny space of your kitchen and wrapping around you like a safety blanket.

“Thanks,” you whispered, cheeks burning with a soft blush as you suddenly felt the quiet comfort of his presence in a way that made everything else feel far away.

Jayce leaned in to brush a kiss against your forehead, light but sincere. “Anytime.”

And just like that, everything felt perfectly in place.

[anantaru]

albedo with a breeding kink?

cw. breeding kink, you guys are kinda reckless, implications of wanting to get you pregnant!!!!!, fem! reader

a/n. albedo + breeding is so canon, like there's no way it isn't

albedo knows of the risks of deciding against using a condom tonight, and if anything, he was aware of it more than anybody else— although you said it's alright, only for this one time, ultimately you sought after feeling him inside of you as well, raw and pressed up deep against your most dearest places.

the possible consequences? well, certainly they could be dealt with after.

what's more to it, such prospect of naivety was quite audacious, yes, perhaps, but albedo had always inspired you to try out reckless things— because believe it or not but he was a fan of trying out new kinks in the bedroom, maybe for research purposes or simple curiosity.

for all you know, it could also be his way of figuring out the notions he found to be delicious.

now, one of his hands was clenched at the side of your thigh to keep you steadied while the other was wrapped around himself, slowly pumping his length to the bare sight of you as his cock stayed perfectly settled against your sopping folds, sticking and messing up your core with his pre.

you admire his chest, how it seems like he was just perfect, no flaws, barely dusted with sweat, at any rate that little glow on his skin made him even more beautiful.

his abs too, incandescent without blemish, sculpted with lean muscle.

albedo slowly taps the head of his cock against your hole and smiles when he notices how your slick was immediately covering him. as though sensing his stare, your hips shuffle up to play with him, in fact, giving your boyfriend a clear indicator that you've waited for him long enough turned him on even more.

to be able to jam you with his cum tonight sent even more blood rushing down to his dick until he hisses at the slight throbs his shaft would set free, until of course, he decided it was time for his cock to bury its inches inside of your melting walls.

his hips start to go fast immediately— each thrust multiplying its rhythm to the point where you could feel his warm ruts pervade your skin. it's almost cruel, as were his eyes so heated and hungry, pupils blown as his gaze slips up and down the connection of your joined bodies.

what had first started out as a foreplay session with no rush and taking ones time, now gradually developed into something much more delicious.

albedo wasn't drawing your pleasure out anymore nor did he want to keep you waiting any longer either, he stopped the teasing too— although he would still squeeze and pinch your erect nipples to keep them all nicely for him.

no taunting anymore, no tapping his cock-head against your folds or fucking you with his tip to watch your sweet reactions set the room on fire, because you see, albedo was seeking his own pleasure in this moment— said pleasure not being the climax himself, but the lewd sight of you taking him and that need to splatter his cum all over your sore walls until your legs were beginning to shake around his hips.

your lips part and you moan lowly as he pushes his chest against your own, the precious sounds slipping from your mouth breaking into rough parts as your walls wrap around him ever do tight, leaving the man breathless and hot inside.

instead of rolling into each movement, albedo decides on a different approach and rocks his hips back and forth your pussy, switching between as fast as he could go while then going slower again, forcing you to feel the way his cock presses up against the sweet spot inside of you, fast and slow fast and slow, taking only slight adjustment on his tempo as to make you feel the pressure all the way across your lower area, the feeling that he knew made your eyes roll back into your head.

that's what it was in the end, the pleasure that sent you aflame, too much for too little of time, making you want more as you both come undone, you two at the same time.

albedo's hips buck needily as they stutter through each thrust when you throb and clench down on him, cumming strongly all around his shaft until he could feel a filthy ring of whiteness cover his dripping erection.

a needy, god-awful whimper escapes his throat as he moans luxuriously into your neck when he feels his cum rush to all the right places, the tight entanglement of your walls pressing tight against his shaft spiking electric bolds through his nerves.

although his hips won't stop moving yet.

much to his surprise, your cunt still took him impossibly deep, so tight and wet and unable to slide himself out. yet you're utterly spent that you had to rely on him holding your legs up. even so, you didn't want to lose the connection yet and neither was your boyfriend as he decided to keep himself stored in you.

sure enough, albedo wanted to stay like this for a while, or even longer, because he knew if he was to pull out now, all of his hard work would come to waste and you'd be empty of him much faster than he could even process.

otherwise than that, he really hoped it had worked tonight, there's no way that it wouldn't have, right? after all, his precise calculations always seems to be right.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[be4chywritez]

unbound | max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!reader

you get pregnant, and there is no doubt in your mind that it’s Max’s.

beachy’s masterlist 🐚

beachy’s prompt list🥥

You take a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the tests. The seconds tick by slowly, each one a reminder of how this moment could change everything. Amanda, your assistant, leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you closely.

"Okay, but does he know? Have you told Max?" Amanda’s voice cuts through the silence, and you feel your stomach knot up at the mention of his name.

You bite your lip, avoiding her gaze. "No... and I don’t plan on it. Not yet."

Amanda sighs. "You know that’s not going to fly. Especially with someone like Max. He’s not the kind of guy you can hide this from for long."

You feel the weight of her words but shrug it off. "I'll figure it out. Right now, I just... I need to know for sure."

You both fall silent as the timer hits zero. With shaky hands, you reach for the first test.

Amanda shifts beside you, clearly hesitant. “Before you look… have you thought about what you’re going to do if it’s positive? I mean… are you going to keep it?”

Her voice feels like a hammer against your already fragile state of mind. You swallow hard, eyes still glued to the test in your hand, the one that hasn’t yet revealed your fate.

Keep it? The question spins in your head, knocking against every other doubt you’ve been pushing aside. You hadn’t let yourself go that far in your thoughts—hadn’t let the possibility of becoming a mother really settle in. But deep down, despite the fear, there’s something else. Something you can’t quite name but it’s there, pulling you to this decision before you can even explain it to yourself.

“Yes,” you whisper, surprising yourself with the certainty in your voice. Amanda’s brows raise, but she doesn’t interrupt. “I don’t know why, but I just… I feel like I have to. I can’t explain it, but it’s like… this is happening for a reason.”

For the first time since you grabbed that handful of pregnancy tests, you let yourself exhale. The truth is, as much as the thought of raising a child alone terrifies you, there’s a small flicker of something new—a calm. You’d been feeling it for weeks. Alex had mentioned it, too, just the other night over dinner.

“There’s something different about you lately,” she’d said with a soft smile, her eyes flicking between you and Charles. “You seem more… grounded. Happier, even.”

At the time, you’d brushed it off. But now, that calmness makes sense. It wasn’t just work settling down or the comfort of being around friends. It was something else entirely.

Amanda is staring at you now, her skepticism softening into something more like understanding. “Okay,” she finally says. “But Max… What about him?”

Your heart tightens at the mention of his name. Max Verstappen. Memories of that night flood back, unbidden—the way the celebration bled into something deeper, something more intimate. You’d both been drinking, still riding the high of his podium finish, the afterparty spilling out into quieter spaces. You’d always felt that tension between you two, but you never acted on it, knowing how complicated it could get.

Especially since Max had just ended things with his girlfriend. You remember hearing it from Charles a few weeks earlier, and you couldn’t ignore how Max looked that night. A bit more reckless, a bit more vulnerable.

Maybe that’s why you hadn’t pushed him away when things escalated. You weren’t thinking about his ex or how raw it all was. For that brief moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, no strings attached.

But that moment didn’t stay in the past. Now it’s staring you right in the face.

Amanda raises an eyebrow, waiting for your response. You shake your head, avoiding her eyes. “I’m not telling him. Not yet. I don’t even know how to start.”

Amanda sighs, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed as if bracing herself for whatever’s next. “You can’t hide it forever, you know,” she says, her tone softer this time, but you can still hear the weight of her words.

“I know,” you mumble, eyes flicking between the tests. The seconds feel like hours, and you swear the air is thicker in the room. Your hand hovers over one of the tests, but you can’t bring yourself to flip it over just yet.

The fear gnaws at you, but there’s something else lurking just beneath the surface—something you haven’t let yourself fully acknowledge. It’s not just about Max or his recent breakup. It’s the deeper realization that everything in your life is about to shift.

You think about your career. How every fitting, every runway show, every photo shoot demands your undivided attention. And how, lately, it’s felt different. Less exciting. A sense of disconnect has settled in, like the passion that used to fuel you has been replaced by something quieter.

You’ve been more cautious, too. Alex had noticed that, even if she didn’t say it directly. She had joked that you were glowing, attributing it to stress-free work weeks. But in reality, you knew something was different. You just hadn’t wanted to admit it to yourself yet.

Amanda’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “If you’re serious about keeping it, you have to start thinking about what that means. For your career. For… everything.”

You finally reach for the first test, hands trembling as you turn it over. The small screen stares back at you, the two lines clear as day.

Pregnant.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your mind goes blank for a second. Amanda shifts beside you, leaning forward to peer at the result. You don’t need to look at her to know her expression—part concern, part disbelief, maybe a little bit of shock.

“Okay,” she says after a beat, letting out a long breath. “It’s real. So… now what?”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the test. “I don’t know.” It’s the only truth you can manage. The room feels too small, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once.

Amanda stands up, moving toward the door as if sensing you need space. “Take your time. But we need to talk about this—especially if you’re not planning on telling Max right away.”

As soon as she leaves, the quiet settles in, and for the first time since you grabbed the tests, you let yourself think about him. Max. You can almost picture his face—how serious he gets before a race, his intense focus on the track. And that night, when everything between you shifted, the wall he kept up with everyone else had cracked, just a little.

But you’d been ignoring the other side of it. The fact that he’d just come out of a relationship. You didn’t let yourself think about how complicated it would make things, how fragile he might’ve been, how vulnerable. And now, here you are, carrying a secret he has no idea exists.

You press your hand to your stomach, the reality finally starting to sink in. You are pregnant. With Max’s child.

And you’re not sure what to do next.

A few days later, you’re back in your studio, standing in front of a team of designers. The hum of creativity fills the air, but today, your mind is scattered. You’re doing your best to stay focused, but every now and then, your hand absentmindedly drifts to your stomach.

“So, as we prepare for the upcoming show, I want us to think outside the box for the new collection,” you begin, scanning the room as your team listens attentively. Amanda is there too, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. She knows what’s going on beneath the surface, but for now, she keeps it to herself.

One of your lead designers, Jasmine, raises a hand. “Any particular direction you’re thinking of?”

You hesitate, the words sitting at the back of your throat. You hadn’t planned to go this route, but suddenly the idea feels right. Maybe it’s because the pregnancy is at the forefront of your mind. Or maybe it’s because designing has always been your way of processing things.

“I’ve been thinking…” you start, choosing your words carefully. “What if we explored a maternity line? Something that celebrates women at every stage, from expecting to post-pregnancy. Comfort and beauty, no matter the changes.”

The room goes quiet for a moment. You can almost see the gears turning in their heads as they process the idea. Jasmine looks intrigued. “A maternity collection. That’s… actually brilliant,” she says, and the others quickly chime in with nods and murmurs of agreement.

Amanda’s eyes flick toward you, but she doesn’t say anything. Only she knows the real reason you’re suggesting this. But for now, you focus on the work. It’s easier that way.

“We’ll workshop it,” you say, clearing your throat and moving the conversation forward. “But for now, let’s keep brainstorming. We’ll still need a core collection that fits within the show’s theme.”

As the meeting wraps up, you retreat to your office, sinking into your chair with a sigh of relief. For a moment, it feels like you’re back in control—like you’ve managed to keep everything balanced. But as the minutes tick by, the reality creeps in again.

You’re pregnant. And no matter how much you try to focus on work, it won’t change what’s happening.

Before you can dwell too long, your phone buzzes on the desk. A message from Charles.

Lunch with me and Alex today?

You stare at the screen for a moment, biting your lip. You’ve been

avoiding them. Ever since Alex pointed out how different you’ve been acting, you’ve been worried that spending too much time with them might give you away.

But Charles is persistent. You can already imagine him showing up at your office if you don’t respond.

Sure, you type back.

At lunch, the three of you sit outside at your favorite spot, the sun shining down on the café’s terrace. Alex leans forward, her eyes twinkling. “You seem busy lately. Is the new collection stressing you out?”

You force a smile, stirring your iced coffee. “You know how it is. Just a lot to manage.”

Charles tilts his head, a teasing grin on his face. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding us? We’ve barely seen you the past couple of weeks.”

You laugh it off, hoping they don’t notice how nervous you are. “I’ve just been focused on work. Things are… hectic.”

Alex narrows her eyes, studying you. “You’re different, though,” she says softly. “It’s not just work. You’ve been… calmer. Happier, even. Something’s going on.

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your expression neutral. “What do you mean?”

Charles nudges her. “Let her breathe, Alex. She’s probably just—”

“No,” Alex interrupts, still watching you closely. “There’s something else. You’d tell us if something was up, right?”

You nod, trying to keep your cool. “Of course. But there’s nothing. I promise.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but before she can push further, your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Max.

Hey, haven’t seen you in a while. You okay?

Your stomach flips. Of all the times for him to message you.

You quickly tuck your phone away, but not before Alex notices the look on your face. “Max?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you admit. “Just a quick text.”

Charles snorts, leaning back in his chair. “You and Max… I still can’t believe you two hooked up.”

“Charles,” Alex chides, but she’s smiling too.You roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “It was just a one-time thing.”

Charles grins wider. “Sure it was.”

The days following your meeting with the design team become a blur of fittings, sketches, and late nights. Your life has always been busy, but now, every task feels ten times harder. The fatigue hits you in waves, leaving you drained before lunch, and the nausea is unpredictable, striking at the worst moments.

You’re at a photoshoot, trying to direct the models, when a sudden bout of dizziness hits. You steady yourself against the table, hoping no one notices, but Amanda’s sharp eyes catch you.

“You good?” she asks, her voice low enough so the others can’t hear.

You nod quickly, swallowing hard. “Yeah, just a bit light-headed. I didn’t eat much this morning.”

Amanda eyes you, clearly unconvinced, but before she can say more, one of the photographers calls your name. You straighten up, forcing a smile, and head back into the chaos of the shoot. But as you move around the studio, you can feel the weight of it all pressing down on you.

Later that afternoon, you retreat to your office, closing the door and sinking into your chair. You rest your hand on your stomach, feeling the subtle changes in your body. You’re not showing yet, but it won’t be long. The realization sends a wave of panic through you. You have no idea how you’re going to keep this up—how you’ll manage your work, your friends, and your pregnancy without something giving way.

Your phone buzzes on the desk, and you glance down to see a message from Alex.

Dinner tomorrow? We miss you.

You sigh. They’re getting suspicious, and you know it. You’ve been avoiding them, but you can’t keep this up forever. You type a quick reply agreeing to dinner, then toss your phone aside.

As the days pass, your work continues to pile up. Meetings, photoshoots, fittings—it never ends. Your team is buzzing with excitement over the maternity collection, and while part of you feels proud, there’s also an underlying anxiety. The very thing you’re designing for is the secret you’re desperately trying to keep hidden.

You’re in the middle of a meeting when another wave of nausea hits. You excuse yourself quickly, making a beeline for the bathroom. Once inside, you grip the sink, taking deep breaths to steady yourself.

The door creaks open, and Amanda steps in. “You okay?”

You nod, but it’s clear she doesn’t believe you. She waits a beat before asking, “Are you planning on telling anyone?”

You freeze, her question hanging heavy in the air. Amanda has been your rock through this, but you haven’t told anyone else. Not Alex, not Charles. And certainly not Max.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just trying to figure it out.”

Amanda watches you for a moment before sighing. “You can’t keep this up forever, you know. People are going to start noticing.”

You know she’s right. The signs are already there. Alex is suspicious, Charles keeps asking if you’re okay, and the physical toll is getting harder to hide. But you’re not ready—not yet.

It’s late in the evening when you finally return home, exhaustion pulling at your every step. The weight of your secret is growing heavier with each passing day. As much as you’ve tried to push through, the reality of your situation is beginning to feel impossible to ignore.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea to unwind, when there’s a knock at the door. You freeze, unsure who it could be at this hour. The only person who comes by unannounced is—

The knock sounds again, louder this time, followed by a familiar voice. “It’s us! Open up!”

Alex.

You rush to the door, already knowing who’s on the other side. Sure enough, when you swing it open, Alex and Charles stand there, both wearing expressions of concern. Alex pushes past you, stepping into the hallway with Charles trailing behind her.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Alex says, her arms crossed as she looks you over. “So, we decided to check in.”

You bite your lip, glancing at the unopened texts on your phone that you’d been ignoring all day. “Sorry, I’ve just been...busy.”

“Yeah, we figured,” Charles adds, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you’ve been acting weird for a while now. What’s going on?”

Alex walks over to the kitchen counter, leaning against it with her eyes fixed on you. “And don’t say it’s just work. You’ve been off. Charles and I have been worried.”

The concern in her voice stirs something inside you, and you feel the familiar pressure rising in your chest. You’ve been keeping this secret for weeks, but now, standing here with two of your closest friends staring at you, the weight of it all is unbearable.

You feel your heart race as you take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I—I need to tell you both something,” you begin, your voice shaky.

Alex’s expression softens instantly, while Charles tilts his head, confused but attentive.

“What is it?” Alex asks gently.

You take another deep breath and close your eyes, forcing the words out before you can change your mind. “I’m...I’m pregnant.”

There’s a beat of silence, followed by a stunned look from both of them. Alex’s eyes widen, her mouth parting in shock. Charles, on the other hand, looks like he didn’t quite hear you correctly.

“You’re—pregnant?” he repeats, his voice full of disbelief.

You nod, your hands trembling slightly. “Yeah. I just found out a few weeks ago.”

Alex steps forward, her hand instinctively reaching for yours. “Oh my God...are you okay? How are you feeling?”

Her immediate concern almost undoes you, and you blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “I’m...I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Charles lets out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “Wow. I mean...wow. Does...does Max know?”

At the mention of Max’s name, you shake your head quickly. “No, he doesn’t. And I don’t want him to—not yet.”

Alex’s brows furrow. “But you’re going to tell him eventually, right?”

You hesitate, the uncertainty hanging in the air. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can. He just got out of a relationship, and things are complicated.”

Charles shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly unsure of what to say. “But...he’s the father, right?”

“Of course,” you reply quickly, your voice sharp. You sigh, feeling the tension in your body ease slightly. “It’s just...with everything that happened between him and his ex, I don’t want to make things worse. He’s been going through a lot.”

Alex squeezes your hand gently. “That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t know. He has a right to.”

You nod, but the idea of telling Max still feels too overwhelming, too complicated.

“I just...I need some time,” you say quietly. “I need to figure things out.”

Alex nods, her expression softening again. “Okay. We’re here for you, whatever you decide.”

Charles finally steps forward, his usual goofy grin gone. “Yeah, we’ve got your back. Whatever you need.”

You offer them both a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. I’m just trying to take it one day at a time.”

Alex hugs you, her arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders. “We’ll get through this together.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. You’re not alone in this anymore. Alex and Charles know now, and even though there are still so many unanswered questions—about Max, about the future—you finally feel like you can breathe.

The morning light filters through your studio windows as you sit at your desk, reviewing concept boards for your upcoming fashion show. You’ve tried to focus on work, pouring yourself into designs for your new maternity collection, but it’s hard to ignore the subtle changes in your body.

Your fingers hover over the designs, and despite how proud you are of the collection, you can’t shake the worry creeping up the back of your mind. Every day, the nausea comes in waves, the exhaustion more overwhelming than usual. The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels heavier with each passing moment, but for now, you have to keep it buried.

Amanda steps into the room, placing a cup of herbal tea on your desk. “Here,” she says, her eyes scanning your face. “You looked like you needed something soothing.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking a sip and letting the warmth calm your nerves. You hadn’t realized you were fidgeting until now.

You’ve been so careful at work, going through the motions of meetings, fittings, and shoots as if nothing is different. But Amanda’s keen observation skills—and the subtle way she’s been watching you—make you feel more exposed. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep this up.

As the day goes on, you notice whispers among the team. Little comments about how you seem “glowing” or how you’ve been calmer than usual. It’s innocent enough, but each time, your pulse races, worrying that someone is beginning to piece it together.

Later, during a meeting with your design team, you present the new maternity line. You speak confidently, knowing the collection is some of your best work, but a small voice inside you can’t help but feel nervous as you explain the inspiration behind it. One of your designers raises an eyebrow when you mention how the pieces will offer both comfort and style for women during all stages of pregnancy.

“Interesting choice,” one of the assistants remarks. “Are we expanding into maternity now?”

You force a smile, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yes. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I want this collection to reflect the different phases of life, including motherhood.”

The team nods in approval, but you can feel the weight of their curiosity. As you finish the presentation, you excuse yourself from the meeting, heading to your office for a moment of quiet.

As soon as you close the door behind you, you slump into the chair, rubbing your temples. The anxiety is starting to wear on you, and keeping this secret feels more daunting with each passing day. You grab your phone and see a text from Alex, asking how you’re holding up.

Just as you’re about to respond, Amanda pokes her head in. “By the way, don’t forget about the event tonight.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten. The event is a high-profile charity gala—a perfect storm for running into Max.

“Right... thanks for the reminder,” you say, trying to sound calm.

That evening, you arrive at the event, your oversized dress flowing elegantly as you step into the ballroom. The room is filled with the usual crowd—models, designers, athletes, and celebrities. You take a deep breath, hoping that blending in with the crowd will be enough to keep attention off you.

But as you make your way through the event, your eyes catch sight of someone across the room. Max.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, but the sight of him is enough to make your heart race. This is the first time you’ve seen him since... well, since everything.

He’s talking to a few people, his usual relaxed posture, but there’s something different in his expression—maybe from his recent breakup. Your breath hitches as you watch him for a moment longer before you turn to find Alex and Charles, hoping to stay out of Max’s line of sight.

But just as you turn to walk away, you hear a voice behind you.

“Hey.”

You freeze, knowing exactly who it is before you even turn around. Max stands there, his eyes scanning your face, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them.

You turn slowly, heart pounding as your eyes meet Max’s. For a moment, it feels like the rest of the room fades away, and it’s just the two of you standing there, an invisible tension hanging between you.

“Max,” you manage to say, your voice steady but your nerves buzzing beneath the surface. You hadn’t planned on speaking to him, not here, not like this. But now that he’s standing right in front of you, you don’t have a choice.

He looks... good. That familiar sharpness in his gaze is still there, but you can see the weight of something unsaid behind his eyes. It’s probably the breakup. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, his tone neutral but tinged with curiosity. He looks you over quickly, taking in your outfit, but you’re thankful it hides enough that he wouldn’t notice anything off at first glance.

“I—yeah, I wasn’t sure if I’d come,” you say, forcing a small smile. “Work’s been crazy.”

He nods, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression, like he knows there’s more to the story. “I get it. Same for me. Trying to get back into the swing of things.”

You know he’s referring to his recent breakup, and for a brief second, guilt claws at you. He doesn’t know, and this would be the absolute worst moment to drop the bomb. Not at a public event, not in front of all these people. You can feel Alex and Charles watching you from across the room, their presence grounding you, reminding you that they know—but Max doesn’t. Not yet.

“Have you been all right?” he asks, his voice dropping a little lower, more sincere. “It feels like it’s been a while since we last... talked.”

The way he says “talked” holds so much more than the word itself. It brings back memories of the last time you saw him—when things between you had been anything but simple. The night you hooked up still lingers in your mind, the way it felt like something more, but you’d both walked away from it without a word about what it really meant.

“I’ve been fine,” you lie. “Just... busy. You know how it is.”

Max tilts his head, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Yeah, I do.”

There’s a pause, and the air between you feels heavier. You can tell he’s trying to read you, trying to figure out if something is wrong. And part of you wants to tell him. But you can’t. Not here.

Just as the tension starts to rise, someone brushes past you, pulling your attention away for a second. It’s Alex, making her way over with a casual smile that barely hides her concern.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Alex says, glancing between you and Max. “I just wanted to steal her for a second.”

You can see Max's eyes flicker to Alex, then back to you. He steps back slightly, giving you space. “Of course,” he says, his voice clipped, though you can’t tell if it’s from irritation or something else.

“Catch up later?” he asks, his tone softening, and you nod, though your stomach twists at the thought.

“Yeah, sure,” you murmur, and with that, Alex gently pulls you aside.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, Alex leans in. “You okay?” she asks quietly, concern etched into her face. “I saw you two talking, and I wasn’t sure if you needed an out.”

You nod, feeling a wave of relief but also guilt. “Thanks for the save. I wasn’t ready to talk to him... not yet.”

“I figured,” Alex says, giving you a sympathetic look. “But he’s going to figure it out eventually.”

You know she’s right. The more you run into him, the harder it’s going to be to keep the secret. And after tonight, it’s clear that Max isn’t going to let things stay unresolved between you for much longer.

After Alex pulls you away, you take a moment to breathe, letting the tension drain from your body. But the thought of telling Max still lingers in the back of your mind. Maybe tonight was the right time after all. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding and face whatever comes next.

You glance back at him, half expecting to see him still standing where you left him. But instead, your breath catches in your throat.

Max isn’t alone anymore.

His ex stands beside him, her hand resting casually on his arm as she leans in to say something. He’s smiling, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Still, it’s enough to make your heart sink. The sight of them together—so familiar, so comfortable—leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Whatever you were about to tell him evaporates in an instant. The idea of burdening him with the news of your pregnancy feels impossible now. He’s clearly moved on, and you can’t bring yourself to pull him back into something so complicated, not when he’s just gotten out of a relationship.

You turn away quickly, trying to shake off the sudden wave of emotion. Alex notices and wraps a supportive arm around your shoulder, leading you away from the scene. “You did the right thing,” she says quietly. “It’s not the right time.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I know.”

But deep down, it doesn’t make it any easier.

The night of the fashion show arrives, and the energy backstage is electric. Models are rushing around, designers are making last-minute adjustments, and the press is already swarming outside. Your collection is the centerpiece of the show, and the maternity line is about to debut in front of some of the biggest names in the industry.

But despite the excitement, a familiar weight presses down on your chest. You’re nervous—not just about the show but about being in the spotlight while trying to hide your pregnancy. The oversized designs you’ll wear tonight should help conceal it, but you can’t shake the fear that someone will notice a change in you.

As you step out into the bright lights of the runway, you remind yourself to breathe. Focus on the work. Focus on the moment. You can do this.

The show goes off without a hitch. The audience loves the collection, and you manage to keep your composure throughout. But as you walk backstage after your final look, you can feel the pressure building again. You’ve made it through the night, but the reality of your situation is starting to catch up with you.

As the weeks pass, your body begins to show subtle signs of the life growing inside you. The small bump is barely noticeable, but to you, it’s impossible to ignore. The reality of your pregnancy is becoming more apparent each day, and with it, the pressure to step back from work mounts.

After another long week of trying to conceal the changes and fighting off fatigue, you make a decision—you need a break. The relentless cycle of photoshoots, meetings, and creative pressure is too much to handle while carrying a secret this big. So, with a heavy heart, you inform your team that you’ll be taking a leave of absence from both modeling and designing. It’s the first time in a long while that you’re putting yourself first, but it doesn’t feel like a relief. If anything, it makes the situation feel more real.

You spend the next few days quietly preparing for your time away, tying up loose ends and planning for what comes next. But even as you try to rest, the world keeps moving. One evening, as you sit on the couch scrolling through your phone, you receive a text from Alex.

Hey! How do you feel about coming with us to Vegas for the Grand Prix?

You deserve a break, and it’ll be fun! Plus, it’s cold—perfect for layering up and hiding that cute bump of yours 😉

You smile at her playful message. Alex always knows how to make you feel better, and despite your initial hesitation, the idea of going to Vegas for the race sounds like a good distraction.

I’ll think about it, but I’m not sure…

No excuses! Charles and I already have everything set. You need this, trust me. It’s going to be amazing.

After a bit of back and forth, you reluctantly agree. The timing couldn’t be better—Vegas would be a good place to get away from everything, and the cold weather gives you the perfect excuse to bundle up and hide the bump that’s starting to show. Maybe, just maybe, you can get through this without anyone noticing.

The Las Vegas Grand Prix is buzzing with energy when you arrive. The city is alive with lights, and the cold air nips at your skin as you step out of the car, pulling your oversized sweater tighter around yourself. You’ve layered your outfit perfectly—no one would suspect a thing.

As you make your way through the paddock with Charles and Alex, you do your best to remain inconspicuous, but it’s hard not to feel like you’re under a microscope. Max is here. You haven’t seen him since that fateful night at the gala, and even though you’ve done your best to avoid him, you know it’s only a matter of time before your paths cross again.

Sure enough, as you’re chatting with Alex near the Red Bull garage, you spot him out of the corner of your eye. He’s walking in your direction, his gaze sweeping across the crowd until it lands on you. For a brief moment, you think about turning away, but it’s too late.

“Hey,” Max says, stopping in front of you, his eyes scanning your face. “You look… really good.”

There’s an awkward pause as you search for something to say, but all you can manage is a quiet, “Thanks.” The tension between you is palpable, but before anything more can be said, Charles interrupts, pulling you away to meet some of the other drivers.

As the race time approaches, Alex notices you’re starting to look tired and pulls you aside. “Hey, why don’t you watch the race from Charles’ driver’s room? You can get some rest if you want. It’s warm in there, and no one will bother you.”

You hesitate, but the thought of escaping the chaos of the paddock for a few hours is too tempting to pass up. “Okay,” you agree. “But you stay here and enjoy the race. I’ll be fine.”

Alex gives you a soft smile. “I’ll come check on you after.”

The room is quiet, the hum of the crowd fading into the background as you settle onto the couch, finally able to relax. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were until now, the weight of everything catching up with you. Before you know it, you’ve drifted off to sleep, your hands instinctively resting on your bump as you doze.

After the race ends, Max heads to Charles’ driver’s room, searching for him. The door creaks open softly, and he freezes in his tracks at the sight in front of him.

There you are, fast asleep on the couch, your oversized sweater no longer hiding the soft curve of your belly. His eyes widen, his mind racing as the pieces start to fall into place. The realization hits him hard—this isn’t just a rumor or a secret anymore. You’re pregnant, and somehow, he knows deep down, it’s his.

Max stands frozen in the doorway, his heart racing as he stares at your sleeping form. The soft rise of your belly is undeniable now, and everything clicks into place in a way that feels almost too shocking to comprehend. His breath hitches, the noise startling you awake. You blink, disoriented for a moment, before your eyes land on him.

“Max?” you murmur, your voice groggy with sleep.

But the look on his face makes your heart drop.

“You’re pregnant,” he says flatly, his voice stripped of emotion.

You nod, unsure of what to say. The words you rehearsed, the explanations and apologies, all seem to disappear in the suffocating silence between you.

Max’s eyes narrow, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “And you weren’t planning on telling me, were you?”

“Max, I was going to—”

“When?” he interrupts, his tone sharp and cutting. “After the baby was born? Or maybe when the media started asking questions? Did you think I wouldn’t find out eventually?”

You swallow hard, feeling the lump in your throat grow larger by the second. “I didn’t know how to tell you… You just got out of a relationship. I didn’t want to make things more complicated.”

His jaw tightens, and he stares at you like he doesn’t even recognize you anymore. “More complicated?” His voice rises, incredulous. “You think hiding the fact that you’re carrying my child isn’t complicated enough?”

“I didn’t know how you’d react,” you say softly, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

Max scoffs, his face twisted in disbelief. “Ruin everything? You already did. You made this decision for both of us without even giving me the chance to decide if I wanted to be involved.”

You feel your stomach drop. The look in his eyes is colder than you’ve ever seen, and the weight of his words hits you like a punch to the gut. “Max, please… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

He takes a step closer, his voice low but laced with anger. “You didn’t mean for what to happen? To get pregnant or to keep it from me?”

You can’t meet his gaze. “Both,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Max lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let them fall. “Max, I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing by giving you space. I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” he snaps. “You didn’t give me a choice. You took that away from me.”

Your heart sinks further, and the lump in your throat makes it difficult to speak. “I know I should have told you sooner. But we can still figure this out. We can—”

Max cuts you off, his voice cold and detached. “No.”

The single word hangs in the air between you like a death sentence. Your eyes widen, and your chest tightens with panic. “What do you mean, no?”

“I’m not doing this,” Max says, his tone icy. “I’m not going to be part of something you kept from me. You made the choice to go through this alone—so you can finish it alone.”

You feel your breath hitch, your resolve faltering. “Max, please. You don’t mean that. You can’t just walk away.”

Max’s gaze is unwavering, hard as steel. “Watch me.”

The finality in his voice cuts through you, but you manage to keep your composure, standing your ground. “You don’t get to make this decision for me. This is our child.”

“I didn’t get a say in that!” he retorts, anger flashing in his eyes. “You’ve known all this time, and you’ve had the luxury of time to process it. I just found out, and now I’m supposed to act like everything’s fine? Like I haven’t been completely blindsided?”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat. You can see the hurt and betrayal etched across his face, and it pierces you deeper than any insult.

“Max, this isn’t just about you. I was scared. I didn’t know how you’d react, and I didn’t want to complicate things more, especially after your breakup.”

“Maybe I wanted to be a part of this!” he yells, frustration seeping into every word. “But you made it clear that I’m not. You decided that all by yourself.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, thick with unspoken emotions. You take a breath, steeling yourself, but he’s not done.

“Do you even realize how selfish that is?” Max shakes his head, disbelief written all over his face. “You think you can just decide what’s best for me without even asking?”

“I thought I was protecting you!” you reply, your voice firm despite the tremor underneath. “This is hard for me too, Max. I didn’t want to burden you with something I didn’t know how to handle myself.”

Max’s expression hardens, the anger in his eyes morphing into something colder. “You don’t get to choose what I can and can’t handle. I’m not a child, and this is not just your life. This is our child we’re talking about.”

The tension in the air is palpable, and you take a step back, feeling the weight of the moment bearing down on you.

“What happens now?” you ask quietly, almost pleading for some kind of understanding.

Max crosses his arms, his posture defensive. “You’re the one who made this choice. You can raise our kid alone if that’s what you want.”

“Max, I never wanted that!” you insist, desperation creeping into your voice. “I thought we could figure this out together.”

He shakes his head, disappointment flooding his features. “I can’t be part of something you hid from me. I won’t. It’s too late for that.”

You feel a chill wash over you as the finality of his words sinks in. “You’re just going to walk away?”

“I’m not walking away,” he replies, his voice now steady, devoid of any emotion. “I’m choosing not to be involved in something I didn’t even know was happening. You’ve made that choice for me.”

With that, he turns, heading for the door. The sight of him walking away feels like a knife to your heart, but you refuse to let your emotions spill over. You hold your ground, your expression steeling.

“Max,” you call out, but he doesn’t look back.

The door clicks softly behind him as he leaves Charles’ driver’s room, leaving you alone with the echoes of his rejection. You stare at the space he once occupied, your hand drifting instinctively to your stomach. There’s no sobbing, no collapse of emotion—just a stillness, a numb realization of where you stand.

You wish you could cry. Somehow, the tears refuse to fall.

The quiet is almost suffocating, pressing against your skin like the cold air outside. Max’s anger had been expected, but the way he looked at you—the coldness in his eyes as he dismissed not just you, but the life growing inside you—had cut deeper than you anticipated.

You rub your hand absentmindedly over the soft curve of your belly, feeling that strange mixture of loss and strength. I can do this. You’ve been on your own before, and now, it’s not just about you.

You stand, smoothing down your oversized sweater, and move to gather your things. As you slip into the hallway, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Alex: We’re coming over.

You almost don’t want to see them, but the truth is, you need them now more than ever. Alex and Charles have always been your safe space, and tonight, that space feels smaller, more fragile. But it’s still there.

Half an hour later, the knock at your door is soft but insistent. You open it to find Alex standing there with Charles just behind her. Her face is a mix of worry and expectation.

“We came as fast as we could,” Alex says, pulling you into a gentle hug before you can speak.

You smile faintly at their concern, the warmth of Alex’s embrace easing some of the weight on your chest. Charles steps inside, eyes scanning your face as if searching for clues to what happened.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, his brow furrowed.

You nod, but it’s not convincing. “I told Max,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

They both stiffen at your words. Alex exchanges a glance with Charles before guiding you to sit down on the couch. “And?” she presses gently.

You hesitate, fingers tracing the seam of your sweater as you exhale slowly. “He doesn’t want to be part of it.”

There’s a long, heavy silence. The tension in the room shifts as Alex sits beside you, her hand finding yours, squeezing it tightly. Charles crosses his arms, looking frustrated but holding back his words.

“He’ll come around,” Alex says softly. “He’s just… dealing with a lot right now.”

You shake your head, the words not offering much comfort. “No, I don’t think he will. He was clear, Alex. He… he said I should’ve told him sooner, but—” You stop, biting your lip as the frustration rises. “I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping it from him. He just got out of a relationship; the last thing he needed was this.”

Charles leans against the wall, arms still crossed, his expression unreadable. Finally, he speaks. “Max is an idiot. He’s got his head so far up his ass, he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

You let out a dry laugh, but it’s tinged with sadness. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I expected him to be thrilled.”

“Still doesn’t make it okay,” Alex adds. “You don’t deserve that.”

Your heart swells with gratitude for them. They’re not sugarcoating anything or trying to fix what’s broken. They’re just here, and in that, you find comfort.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” you admit quietly, your hand resting protectively on your bump. “I wasn’t ready for any of this, and now… it’s just me.”

Alex’s gaze softens. “You’re not alone. Not by a long shot.”

Charles moves to sit beside you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Whatever happens, you’ve got us. And you’re going to be an amazing mom. Max… he’s missing out.”

You smile through the heaviness in your chest. “Thanks. I needed that.”

For a moment, you sit there in silence, the three of you. The conversation shifts to lighter topics—Alex telling you about some ridiculous thing Charles did last week, the upcoming races, and work. It’s grounding, reminding you that despite everything, there are pieces of your life that still make sense..

Max sat on his couch, his eyes staring blankly at the TV, the sound barely registering. His mind kept drifting back to the race, and more than that—to her. The image of her asleep in Charles’ driver’s room, her hand protectively resting over the curve of her belly, haunted him.

He sighed, rubbing his face, trying to shake the thoughts away. He didn’t want to think about it, about her, or about the decision he’d made.

But before he could fully retreat into his thoughts, there was a knock on his door.

Max frowned, standing up and crossing the room to answer it. When he opened the door, he found Charles standing there, his face hard with barely concealed anger.

“Can I come in?” Charles asked, his voice tight.

Max stepped aside, already knowing this wasn’t going to be a casual conversation.

Charles didn’t waste any time once the door was shut behind him. “What the hell are you doing?”

Max blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his friend’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” Charles snapped, his arms crossing over his chest. “She told you about the baby, and you just walked away?”

Max’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t walk away. I told her how I felt.”

Charles scoffed. “You didn’t tell her how you felt. You pushed her away because you were scared.”

“Scared?” Max repeated, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I’m not scared, Charles. She kept it from me for months. How am I supposed to feel about that?”

Charles stepped closer, his eyes blazing. “You’re supposed to care, Max! She’s pregnant with your child. You don’t get to just check out because it’s inconvenient for you.”

Max clenched his fists at his sides, the frustration rising. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is.” Charles’ voice softened, but his words were firm. “You’re making it complicated because you don’t want to deal with it. But she’s doing this alone. She’s carrying your son.”

Max froze at the last word, his eyes snapping up to meet Charles’. “Son?”

Charles nodded, his gaze steady. “Yeah. She found out a few days ago. And you should’ve been there.”

Max stared at him, his thoughts spinning. A son. He didn’t even know it was a boy. And the weight of that hit him harder than he expected.

Charles’s expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding. “I know exactly why you walked away.”

Max tensed, his heart pounding in his chest. “What are you talking about?”

“I know why you’re scared, Max,” Charles said quietly. “Because of him. Because of what Jos was like when you were growing up. You think if you stick around, you’ll turn out just like him.”

Max’s eyes flickered with surprise, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Charles could see the truth in his silence.

“I know you don’t talk about it, and I don’t need the details,” Charles continued, stepping closer. “But I’ve seen how hard he was on you. I’ve seen how you shut down when people talk about family, about fathers. You’re scared that if you stay, you’ll mess up the way he did.”

Max stared down at the floor, his heart pounding. “He made my life hell, Charles. Every mistake I made, he made sure I knew. He made me feel like I wasn’t good enough… like I’d never be good enough.”

Charles watched him closely, his voice soft but firm. “But that’s not who you are, Max. You’re not him. You know what not to do. That’s what makes you different.”

Max swallowed hard, his throat tight. “What if I’m worse?”

Charles sighed, shaking his head. “You won’t be. I’ve seen you with kids, with your nieces and nephews. You’re good with them, whether you believe it or not. You’re not going to be him, Max. But if you walk away now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

Max didn’t respond for a long moment. The fear, the guilt, it all weighed so heavily on him, and yet Charles was right. He wasn’t his father. He didn’t have to be.

“I don’t know what to do,” Max finally whispered.

“You start by being there,” Charles said simply. “That’s it. You show up. Everything else will fall into place.”

“You’re going to regret it if you don’t step up,” Charles said quietly. “She’s stronger than you think, but she shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Max didn’t say anything as Charles left, the door closing softly behind him. But the words stayed with him, even after the silence returned to the apartment.

Work had always been your way of coping. And now, it was a necessity. You threw yourself into finishing the pregnancy collection, meticulously crafting each piece to enhance the models’ natural beauty. The collection was personal—more than anyone realized—and every design was a tribute to the future you were about to step into.

The name you’d chosen for the collection, Adrie, was a secret only you and Alex knew. No one else had any idea that it was named after your son, a silent tribute to the life growing inside you.

As the final touches were made, you found moments of joy. Your appointments with Alex were always a reminder of what was coming. Finding out you were having a boy brought a strange sense of peace, even as your relationship with Max remained broken.

Now, the fashion show was finally here.

The runway was alive with excitement as your models strutted down the catwalk, each wearing pieces that reflected a new chapter in your creative journey. The audience was captivated—every detail, every design, was met with applause. But as you watched from backstage, your heart pounded for a different reason.

You spotted him. Max. He was here.

He sat in the audience, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. You hadn’t seen him since Monaco, since he walked out of Charles’ driver’s room without a second glance. And now, he was here, watching.

Your stomach churned, the slight bump beneath your dress making you feel more vulnerable than ever. You could have asked Alex if she knew he was coming, but there was no point now.

The show reached its peak, and it was time for you to take your final bow. You stepped out onto the runway, your face composed, your smile professional. The applause was deafening, and yet, all you could feel was the knot in your chest as you avoided looking directly at Max.

Don’t look at him. Don’t let him see.

But you could feel him. You felt his eyes on you the entire time. The weight of his presence was inescapable, but you held your head high, walking the length of the runway with grace.

Once you were backstage, the relief was instant. You’d done it. You had survived.

But before you could catch your breath, a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey.”

You turned slowly, already knowing who it was. Max stood there, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His expression was softer than you’d seen in weeks, but you didn’t let yourself fall into the trap of believing it meant anything.

“I thought you did amazing,” he said, stepping closer. “The collection… it’s beautiful… you’re beautiful.”

You forced a polite smile, taking the flowers from him. “Thanks.”

But you didn’t say anything else. You couldn’t. Not yet.

Max seemed to hesitate, like he was searching for the right words. “Can we talk?”

Max’s voice hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you hesitated. The flowers in your hands felt heavier than they should, and the weight of the past few weeks pressed down on your chest.

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral. “Okay.”

Max gestured toward a quieter part of the backstage area, away from the bustling crowd of designers and models celebrating the show’s success. You followed, your heart pounding in your ears as you prepared for whatever he had to say.

Once you were alone, he turned to face you, his eyes searching yours for something. But you didn’t give anything away. You couldn’t.

“I’ve been thinking,” Max started, his voice low, almost hesitant. “About everything.”

You folded your arms over your chest, waiting. You weren’t sure where this was going, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

“I reacted… badly, at the Grand Prix,” Max admitted. “I was angry, and I said things I didn’t mean.”

You raised an eyebrow, keeping your voice steady. “You made it pretty clear how you felt, Max.”

“I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But I wasn’t thinking straight. I was… scared.”

“Scared?” you repeated, incredulous. “Of what?”

Max looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Of being a father. Of screwing everything up.”

Your heart clenched at his words, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Why would you think that?”

“Because of him,” Max said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because of Jos.”

The mention of his father made your heart soften, if only a little. You knew about Max’s complicated relationship with his father—how Jos had pushed him relentlessly, made him feel like he was never enough. But this wasn’t about Jos. This was about the baby.

“You’re not him, Max,” you said quietly.

He shook his head, his eyes filled with doubt. “What if I am? What if I end up doing everything wrong, just like he did?”

“You won’t,” you insisted. “You’re not him. You’ve already proven that by caring enough to be scared in the first place.”

Max stared at you, the vulnerability in his eyes catching you off guard. This wasn’t the Max you were used to seeing—the confident, untouchable racer who never let anything faze him. This was a man who was terrified of repeating his father’s mistakes.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle into your chest. “Then why are you here, Max?”

“Because I want to try,” he said softly. “I don’t want to walk away from this. From you. From… our son.”

The word hung between you, raw and real.

You took a deep breath, your heart aching. “I can’t do this alone, Max.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “And I don’t want you to. But I need you to believe me when I say I’m going to try. I just… I need time to figure this out.”

You reach a hand out hesitantly, before reaching his for his hand, you thumb pads over his calloused palms, you place his hand on your stomach, “His name is Adrie Emillian Verstappen,” you whisper.

Max’s eyes widened as his hand rested on your small, growing bump. The warmth of your skin beneath his palm sent a shiver down his spine, and for the first time, it all felt real. The name—Adrie Emillian Verstappen—echoed in his mind, grounding him in a way nothing else had before.

“Adrie…” he murmured, the name foreign on his tongue but already carrying so much weight. His thumb brushed gently across your belly, and for a moment, it was just the two of you—no racing, no fear, just this life between you both.

You watched his expression closely, unsure of what to expect. This was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him, and it made you both hopeful and terrified at the same time. But you couldn’t afford to let your guard down just yet.

“You need to understand something, Max,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I’ve been doing this alone for months. I’ve been preparing myself for the possibility that you wouldn’t be there—because you made it clear at the Grand Prix that you didn’t want to be.”

Max flinched at the reminder, his guilt palpable.

“And now you’re saying you want to try,” you continued, your voice steady. “But trying isn’t enough. I need to know that you’re in this for the long haul, that you’re not going to back out the moment it gets hard.”

Max’s jaw tightened, his hand still resting on your stomach. “I won’t walk away again. I swear, I won’t.”

You searched his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was sincerity. He looked terrified, yes, but also determined. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to trust that he would follow through on his promise—but the fear of getting hurt again lingered.

“I want to believe you,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “But you’ve hurt me, Max. You’ve hurt me more than you realize.”

Max’s expression crumpled, the weight of your words hitting him hard. “I know… and I’m sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes. I just… I can’t lose this. I can’t lose you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, determined to stay strong. This was about more than just the two of you now—this was about your son, about the life you were about to bring into the world.

“You don’t have to do this perfectly, Max,” you said, your voice softening. “You just have to be here. That’s all I need.”

Max nodded, his hand pressing more firmly against your bump. “I’m here. I promise, I’m here.”

For the first time in weeks, the tension between you began to ease. You weren’t naive enough to believe that everything was suddenly fixed—that there wouldn’t be more challenges ahead. But for now, this moment felt like the first step toward something better.

As Max stood there, his hand still on your stomach, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth. Maybe he really would stay.

Because this wasn’t just about you anymore. It was about Adrie.

And for him, you would fight to make this work.

The following weeks settled into a rhythm, with Max becoming a regular part of your daily life. He started attending your doctor’s appointments, always arriving on time, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Sometimes, people mistook the two of you for a couple, and while it felt awkward at first, you quickly learned to brush it off. There were bigger things to focus on—like preparing for the baby.

“Your husband’s got a great bedside manner,” one of the nurses had said during your most recent appointment, and you’d simply smiled, glancing at Max, who didn’t bother to correct her either. Neither of you needed to explain what you were to anyone else.

Max moving in felt just as natural, though unspoken. One day, after another doctor’s visit, he casually mentioned that it would make more sense if he stayed with you, at least until the baby came. You hadn’t objected, and before you knew it, Max’s things were scattered around your apartment—his shoes by the door, his jacket hanging on your chair, and his presence… well, it made things feel a little less lonely.

The ultrasound technician turned to you with a warm smile as she spread the gel over your bump, your eyes glued to the monitor. Max’s hand, as always, was resting on your shoulder, his thumb absently tracing comforting circles on your skin.

“There he is,” the technician said, pointing at the screen where your son’s form appeared.

Max’s grip tightened ever so slightly, his gaze softening as he watched the baby move. “Adrie…” he murmured, the name that still felt so new but so right slipping from his lips

later that evening, Alex and Charles invited you to dinner at a nice restaurant by the ocean..

“You know,” Alex began, poking at her salad, “Max is really stepping up. It’s nice to see.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, glancing at Max and you, sitting across from him. “Yeah, you’re practically a family already.”

The air went a little still, and you felt your cheeks warm, though you quickly masked it with a casual smile. “We’re just doing what’s best for Adrie. That’s all.”

Max, seated beside you, stayed quiet but gave a small nod of agreement. He didn’t seem bothered by the comment, but there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you that things weren’t as simple as everyone else assumed.

Alex and Charles exchanged another look—one that said they weren’t buying your explanation, but thankfully, they let it slide. The evening continued with light conversation and laughter, but every now and then, Alex’s eyes would drift toward you and Max, her knowing smile never far behind.

Dinner had gone well enough. That is, until you ran into Max’s ex-girlfriend.

The instant her eyes landed on you, her polite smile shifted to something sharper, something filled with disdain. The glance she gave your bump—barely noticeable beneath your loose dress—felt like a dagger, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being… less than.

She was flawless. Tall, sleek, the picture of everything you weren’t right now.

You tried to smile through it, act like the growing tightness in your chest didn’t bother you. But the look on her face as she spoke to Max, dripping in casual familiarity, gnawed at the edges of your confidence. Her tone was light, as if to remind you that she and Max had a history, while you were merely the woman carrying his child.

When she finally left, you could breathe again, but the damage was done. The rest of the evening was a blur of polite conversation, your responses automatic. Max noticed, of course—he always did—but you shrugged off his concern, plastering on a fake smile until you got home.

Once back at the apartment, Max followed close behind you, his presence a silent comfort. But the tension between you both had shifted, the air thick with something unspoken.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft as he stepped closer. You could see the concern in his eyes, and that made it worse. You hated how vulnerable you felt, hated how the ex had made you feel small.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, your voice a little too quick. “I’m just tired.”

Max didn’t believe you. You could tell by the way he kept watching you, his eyes studying your face, your movements. But he didn’t press. Instead, he nodded, giving you space as he retreated to his own room.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, frustration swirling in your chest. Why did you let her get to you? Why did you care? But it was more than that. It was your body. You hadn’t felt like yourself in months. Your bump had grown, your clothes fit differently, and while you knew you were supposed to love the process, part of you felt disconnected, like you weren’t in control of your own body anymore.

Sleep wouldn’t come. Not with the weight of everything pressing down on you. So you slipped out of bed, pulling on a pair of shorts and a tank top, padding softly to the kitchen for a glass of water.

And that’s when you saw him.

Max stood by the counter, shirtless, looking like he hadn’t been able to sleep either. The dim light cast shadows over the defined lines of his body, and you paused mid-step. The air between you crackled with tension, neither of you saying a word.

His gaze swept over you, lingering just a little too long on the way your tank top clung to your frame, the hint of your bump visible. You felt exposed, and yet… drawn to him.

Before you knew it, you were standing close, too close, and Max reached for you, his hand brushing your arm as if testing the waters. Your breath hitched, and when his lips met yours, it was slow, tentative, as if asking for permission.

The kiss deepened, and suddenly, the world fell away. You forgot about his ex, about your insecurities, about everything except the way Max made you feel in that moment. His hands roamed your sides, skimming over your bump with the gentlest touch. But then reality crept back in, your self-doubt surfacing.

You broke the kiss, pulling back, your breath shaky.

“I… I can’t,” you whispered, avoiding his gaze. “Not like this.”

Max looked at you, confusion and concern flickering in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip, arms instinctively wrapping around your midsection. “I just… I don’t feel like myself. My body… it’s different. And I feel like…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t bring yourself to admit that you thought he might still want his ex.

But Max understood. He always did.

His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice making your chest ache. “More than you’ve ever been.”

When you didn’t respond, he lifted you gently onto the counter, his hands firm but tender as they held you in place. “This,” he said, his hand resting over your bump, “is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond, the words stuck in your throat. Max’s hand remained on your bump, his touch warm and grounding. There was something about the way he looked at you—like nothing else in the world mattered except this moment, except you.

“I don’t know how you can see me like that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t even recognize myself half the time.”

Max’s eyes softened, and he stepped closer, his other hand reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know it feels different. But I see you. The same person you’ve always been. And more.” His thumb traced your jawline gently, his touch sending sparks of warmth through your skin. “You’re carrying our son. That makes you even more incredible to me.”

You swallowed, feeling a lump rise in your throat. There was so much you wanted to say—so much you’d held back because of your own fears. The weight of your insecurities pressed against you, threatening to pull you under, but Max’s gaze kept you afloat.

“I guess I’m just scared too,” you admitted softly, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shorts. “Scared that I’ll never feel… normal again. That you won’t see me the same way when I’m… like this.” You gestured toward your body, feeling the self-consciousness creep back in. “And what if you still want her?”

The confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. It felt like a weight off your chest, but the uncertainty still lingered, gnawing at the back of your mind. You couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of what you’d find in his expression.

But Max didn’t flinch. Instead, his hand moved from your bump to tilt your chin upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. The intensity in his gaze caught you off guard—there was no hesitation, no doubt.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “I don’t want her. I want you.” The sincerity in his words wrapped around your heart like a lifeline. “I’ve wanted you this whole time.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the truth of his words sinking in. He wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better. He meant it. And you realized that maybe, just maybe, you had been too wrapped up in your own doubts to see that.

“But I—” you started, but Max didn’t let you finish.

“Shh,” he whispered, leaning in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. This—” his hand pressed gently against your bump again, “—only makes me want you more.”

The words melted into you, warm and soothing, slowly chipping away at the walls you’d built around your heart. You could feel his breath against your skin, the closeness between you so palpable it made your head spin.

“Max…” you breathed, the tension still humming between you.

He smiled, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, it felt like everything around you faded, leaving just the two of you suspended in a quiet, fragile space. Your heart pounded, and despite all the fears and insecurities you had, you leaned into him. You kissed him again, slowly this time, letting yourself get lost in the warmth of his lips, in the way his hand cradled your face with so much care.

This time, you didn’t pull away.

His hands slid to your waist, steadying you on the counter, and you felt the warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips. You were aware of every touch, every small breath between kisses, the way Max’s fingers brushed the exposed skin of your lower back. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t thinking about your body or the way it had changed.

You were just thinking about him.

When the kiss broke, both of you were breathing hard, the air between you charged. Max rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along the side of your neck.

And for the first time in a long while, you actually started to believe it.

The last few months had been a whirlwind, and now, at 29 weeks pregnant, you found yourself in a place you never expected: meeting Max’s family. Victoria, Max’s sister, and Sophie, his mother, welcomed you with open arms. Their warmth felt like a much-needed embrace, especially during those moments when the pregnancy felt overwhelming.

Victoria’s laughter echoed through the room as she shared stories. “You should have seen him as a kid! Always getting into trouble. There was this one time he tried to ‘fix’ my Barbie car, and it ended up in pieces all over the living room.”

You chuckled, imagining a young Max surrounded by chaos. “I can see that. It’s a miracle he became a champion instead of a mechanic!”

Sophie smiled, leaning closer. “He always had a knack for determination, but it’s his heart that really makes him special.”

As the evening wore on, you felt a warmth blooming in your chest. You loved hearing their stories about Max, but they quickly turned into advice about motherhood. “Just remember, every child is different,” Sophie said, her eyes shining with wisdom. “Trust your instincts.

That night, as you and Max settled in back at your place, you couldn’t stop thinking about it all—the baby, the move, everything. With Victoria and Sophie by your side, it suddenly made sense to have the baby in the Netherlands, closer to Max’s family. You looked over at Max, his face soft in the dim light.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started, playing with the edge of the blanket. “I want to have Adrie in the Netherlands. I want him to grow up close to your family.”

Max’s gaze flicked to yours, surprise flashing in his eyes before it melted into something softer. “You sure? You don’t feel like it’s too much?”

You shook your head, smiling. “No, I think it’s the right thing to do. Plus, Victoria and Sophie are going to spoil him rotten. He’s going to need us to balance that out.”

Max chuckled softly, reaching over to rest his hand on your bump, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I think Adrie will like it here.”

A few weeks later, at the Zandvoort Grand Prix, you were there to support Max. At 30 weeks pregnant, you were still getting used to all the changes in your body, but you didn’t let that stop you from being by his side. You’d already become close with Victoria and Sophie, who spent time with you while Max was training.

That day, as you were making your way through the paddock, you finally met Jos. Max’s father had always been a shadow looming in the background—he rarely came to races and, from what you’d heard, wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type.

The meeting went as you expected—Jos was standoffish, his hostility barely veiled. “So, you’re the one Max has chosen to have a baby with,” he said coldly, scanning you with disdain. “Interesting choice.”

You stood tall, refusing to let his words shake you. “Yes, I am. And we’re excited to welcome Adrie.”

Max’s jaw tightened as he stepped closer to you. “That’s enough, Dad. You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

You placed a hand on Max’s arm, calming him down. “It’s fine, really. I don’t care what he thinks,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “But he did say something nasty, and I just thought you should know.”

At that, Max’s jaw clenched, his hand tightening into a fist. “What did he say?”

You repeated Jos’s comment, and Max immediately stood, pacing the room. “I swear, I’m going to—”

“Max, stop,” you interrupted, gently pulling him back to sit beside you. “He’s not worth it. You’re better than that.”

Max looked at you, his expression softening at your calm demeanor. His hand instinctively went to your belly, feeling the subtle movement beneath his palm. “I don’t want him saying those things about you. You don’t deserve that.”

You gave him a small smile, placing your hand over his. “He’s just bitter because we’re happy, Max. Don’t let him ruin this.”

That night, you FaceTimed Alex and Charles, updating them on everything. As always, they were excited to see how far along you were, Alex’s eyes lighting up when you told them about the latest doctor’s appointment.

“The baby’s kicking more now,” you said with a soft laugh, placing your hand on your bump as if to prove it.

“Let me see!” Alex demanded, leaning into the camera. Charles, sitting beside her, was equally invested.

You shifted the camera to show them your belly, and right on cue, Adrie gave a little kick. Both Alex and Charles gasped, their faces lighting up with joy.

“That’s amazing!” Alex exclaimed. “He’s going to be such a strong little boy!”

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at their excitement. It was moments like these that made everything feel more real.

Finally, the day came. You went into labor, and everything happened so quickly that it was a blur. Max was by your side the entire time, his worry evident in the way he hovered around you, making sure you were comfortable. He held your hand through every contraction, whispering words of encouragement, his voice steady even though you could see the fear in his eyes.

When Adrie finally arrived, the room was filled with emotion. Max’s hands trembled as he held his baby boy for the first time, tears slipping down his cheeks as he looked down at his son. You’d never seen him like this—so vulnerable, so overwhelmed with love.

“He’s perfect,” Max whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He looked over at you, his eyes softening as they met yours. “You… you’re amazing. I love you.”

The words hit you like a wave, but they felt right, as if they’d been waiting to be spoken for months. Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached for Max’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I love you too.”

Just as you were about to revel in the peaceful moment, the door to your hospital room burst open, and in came Alex and Charles, balloons and gifts in tow.

“We’re here!” Alex declared, holding up a massive ‘It’s a Boy!’ balloon. Charles followed close behind, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

“Look at him!” Charles beamed, practically bouncing on his feet. “He’s perfect!”

You and Max couldn’t help but laugh at their entrance, the lightness of the moment breaking through the emotional haze of the past few hours.

“Well,” Max said, looking at the both of them, “We have something to ask.”

Alex and Charles immediately quieted down, their eyes wide with anticipation.

“We want you both to be Adrie’s godparents,” you said, smiling as you saw their reactions.

Charles let out an excited whoop, while Alex’s eyes filled with tears. “Of course!” she exclaimed, rushing over to give you a careful hug. “We’d be honored!”

And just like that, everything felt perfect. You had your family, your friends, and most importantly, you had Max and Adrie. It was the happiest ending you could have imagined.

[mossangelll]

yandere!jinx x reader headcanons

thought i’d go into how yandere jinx would capture get you into a relationship ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

tw: abusive behaviour

i feel like there’s two pathways to getting in a relationship with her, both suck equally

pathway 1: she stalked you for a while before deciding to talk to you! she wanted it to be “organic” but she couldn’t just go in knowing nothing about you…what kind of impression would that make?

the first time she does speak to you she mentions some obscure ritual of yours that she should absolutely not know about…she distracts you with a confetti bomb

you fell for it

i love the idea that once you become friends she gives you gifts with tracking devices in them and you’re none the wiser - this is exactly why you need her to protect you! if she has your best interests at heart and can get away with something like that, who knows what someone with bad intentions could do to you!

since she’s past the stage of just being acquaintances with you, her mask starts to slip and her manipulative behaviour becomes more pronounced

first she guilt trips you into hanging out with her for longer periods of time, then she starts complaining about the fact you have other friends - she absolutely weaponises her abandonment issues even if she hates to talk about it in any other situation

before you know it you’re isolated from your family and friends and spend all of your time with jinx :3

she treats it like a 24/7 sleepover except you have to do what she says if you don’t want to be victim to her lashing out

pathway 2: she straight up kidnapped you and figured she can form a relationship with you once you’re captive (that is how dating works, right?)

you would come home from work one day to find a weird metal device laying on your pillow, your name spray painted onto it surrounded by love hearts

you’d fiddle with it for a bit before gas floods your room

you’re knocked out like a light and jinx drops down from the ceiling doing a happy dance

she won’t tell silco about it but he eventually realises something’s up when she starts to steal large amounts of food from the bar

he finds you in her den and demands jinx tell him what is going on

she dances around the topic (literally and figuratively) trying to buy her way out of it but when she sees the disapproving glare in silco’s good eye she deflates - she can’t keep you her little secret anymore

honestly she tells him a few too many details like wayyyyyyyy too many

even he was weirded out

but jinx is his daughter so she gets away with it as per usual

ok back to the kidnapping, when you come to you’re tied down to a surprisingly plush chair and jinx is ALL up in your space

like imagine a kid with their face smushed up to the vending machine glass, she’s so entranced when she has you

she just thinks you’re so cute when you’re sleeping!

of course she expected there to be some…growing pains so she makes sure to have her gun in plain sight - she doesn’t want you getting any fun ideas about “escaping”

if you’re aggressive and moody with her she honestly loves it

in her mind the fact you’re showing so much raw emotion proves you must love her (even if you’ve only known her for like 5 minutes)

however if you’re constantly screaming and begging to leave even after you’ve been in captivity for a while it would trigger her abandonment issues and she would snap

she just doesn’t get it. she makes you fun gadgets, does your hair, tries to get you to open up about yourself even though she already knows most things about you - why do you want to leave her so badly?

however, if you refuse to engage with her at all and completely blank out her existence her patience would run out very quickly

you’re her new fixation and she wants to get to unravel every layer of you, not feel unwanted

so she does some good old trauma bonding by dangling you over the edge of her workshop railing, eyes cold and a deep frown set into her face

in her defense she catches you right as you’re about to fall!

she embraces you, crying with you as she tells you that if she was anyone else (who didn’t love you as much as she did) they would have let you fall but she cares about you 🥺 she only meant to teach you a lesson about the real world 🥺

you’re so conflicted and scared; you know what she did was fucked up, but adrenaline pumps through your veins and you feel like you’re about to throw up, so you just accept her comfort

sometimes she leaves you all on your own in her workshop when she’s off doing odd jobs for silco and you begin to crave human connection so deeply that when jinx suggests a spa night with cuddles at the end, you don’t say no

——————————————————————————

this is actually just me manifesting that jinx becomes real and obsesses over me…she’s so dreamy <3

[hereforthehitsbaby]

It's Always Been You | Origins!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Reader has self-doubt, mentions of not feeling enough, mentions of being depressed,

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3K

Author’s Note: God I hope this makes sense. I had an idea and ran with it, truly hope it was worth it.

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

Life knew just when to hit you in the face, especially when you thought you were getting better. It was a cycle, a vicious bitch of one that truly only knew how to piss you off. At random it liked to come back and play, taking a good day and turning it on its side. You could feel when it was coming on, yet every time you thought it would get better. Just the hope for a better episode left you feeling empty, numb even, because you knew it was always going to be the same. No amount of faking it until you make it could save you from yourself. Left to your own devices, you always worked through it. But the road always was lonely.

You had everything. Everything you could’ve wanted, everything you needed. You had it all, so why now? Why when you finally found your footing in this new part of the country, did it have to come up? Why when you finally found solace in what you do day to day, did it all have to be shrouded in darkness? The air felt heavier, your soul felt confined. It wasn’t a good start to such a beautiful morning – the sun cresting over the mountain range. The gorgeous sight at 6am on a Sunday morning was meant to give you peace of mind – the world’s message that you are okay and yet – it threw you this curveball today. A lone tear slipped from your eye as you laid on your side, silently contemplating just how you were going to tackle today. You had to figure out how you were going to avoid him today. Being alone felt like the lesser of two evils; He was already dealing with a lot.

When you came to Canada to escape from those wanting to hurt you, you didn’t anticipate falling in with Logan. He saved you, in more ways than one. That truck was coming up quick and you didn’t have a chance to react, but he did. One second you were staring at the fender of the truck, next you were staring up at the snow falling, a grunting coming from underneath you. Not a scratch on his face, not a laceration on his body, just heavy pants and the constant question of are you okay? He was meant to be there in that moment, that is what Logan felt like the world had been telling him. It was destined for you two to meet, and this was the way of bringing you two together. Both of you dealing with the nasty repercussions of a broken heart. Only you could mend each others. After all, mutants stick together – right?

You could hear Logan in the back yard of your shared cabin, cutting up wood for the fireplace. The musky smell of his cigar wafting through the cracked window. This was the routine every day. Logan was out and about doing yard work on his days off whilst you stayed inside, doing housework. It was a comfortable dynamic you two created, a platonic friendship that worked well. Being able to teleport made things easier for you, going to and from without needing a vehicle to do so. It made days like this easier to disappear for a while; Logan always gave you your space. Sniffling away your silent tears, you tossed back the heavy comforter of your bed, slowly moving yourself off of your mattress. Being as quiet as possible was the best thing for you, the less Logan knew the better.

When your feet met the cold wooden floor, you jolted slightly – losing the warmth you had. Your eyes felt heavy and raw, your breathing ragged as you tried to hold back tears; They wouldn’t stop, no matter how drained you were. Keeping the heavy thoughts at bay with the overgrowing anxiety – you managed to slip out of your pajamas instantly with a whimper of fear. Standing baren in your bedroom felt too tense for its own good, making your fingers tremble as you worked your sweatpants up your legs. Falling over you was your oversized hoodie, not bothering to add a bra and shirt underneath. You just needed to get away for a little while, you needed the space to breathe and come to. Slipping your boots onto your feet, you took a deep breath as you gazed out the window, focusing on the lip of the mountain before you. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, you’re standing on the curved edge – your solace, right under your feet.

Finding this spot near the cabin wasn’t all on you, actually it was on Logan. You noticed it about a week into living with him – after the breakup with Kayla he would come up here and stare off into the range, watching how the elements traveled over the expanse. He was not one to show emotion with others but up here? He could scream, cry, do whatever he wanted without anyone seeing or hearing. Just far enough away where he could still run back down if you were in trouble, but you didn’t hear his pain. Logan was a gentleman, he wouldn’t subject you to his trauma – not if you didn’t want to hear it. But that was the thing, you wanted all of him, to understand him. Which is why you started to come up here.

Looking down at the expanse of the mountain range, you could still make out the cabin you two lived in – not a single soul around for miles. Both his truck and bike sat on the gravel driveway, looking like they were made for a doll house. Being up so high wasn’t as scary, not anymore in fact. You plopped down onto the stone below you, letting your legs dangle off the edge of the cliff. A deep breath in made the fresh wilderness air coat your lungs, relieving that painful tension in your chest. Each breath helped to get you through the thickness laying over your soul, push it further down until you couldn’t feel a thing anymore. The cold nipping at your face and hands helped to aid in that, the pain steadily growing as you focused on it. Up here it didn’t feel as though you were sad because life got you down – but because life was too much. Everything you had going for you, made you sad. To you it made no sense but, all the sense at the same time. Self-sabotage; You were pulling away from everything because you weren’t used to it working out.

Closing your eyes you let the emotion take you over, letting the shakiness of your breath guide you to reclaiming control over yourself. It was scary, being left alone with your thoughts on the side of a mountain, a couple hundred feet up in the air, dangling your legs over the side. But you knew you’d stay put, you always did. Trying to time your breathing with the whisps of wind, you never noticed that there was a distant sound slowly creeping its way towards you, reminiscent of when your heart was broken. Your lover wasn’t all that they said to be, loving you wasn’t real at all. They needed to get close to you, needed to for Stryker. You’re a mutant, you knew you were never safe but you didn’t think someone would stoop as low as they did. Pretending to love you, cherish you, only to use you as a weapon. It was never real, you were made to be the problem – just like Logan.

The memory ran through you like a freight train, your body shaking due to the unshed sobs you were omitting. The sound of running through the gravel, spinning yourself in every angle to disappear, grew louder and louder the longer you sat. Pulsating beneath your fingertips, the Earth vibrating with the force of a thousand winds. Everything was crashing down, burning with intent of destruction, never peace. “Hey.” Then it stopped. The wind. The voices. The memories. Everything stopped once that one word slipped out. Gasping as you brought yourself back into reality, you felt the racing of your heart in your chest, your eyes unfocused as you panned to your right. Standing at the edge of the path was Logan, his leather jacket open to expose the flannel underneath, his jeans and boots silent as he walked. Swallowing down the sob threatening to spill, you nodded at him. “Hi.”

“Too loud?” Logan asked with a wince, the ache in his body worsening due to the colder months. Dropping down next to you, he groaned as the tension released from his body, sighing out towards the open range. You cocked a brow as you kept your vision forward, silently asking what he meant. You knew if you looked at him, you’d start crying again. You didn’t want to put that onto him, you didn’t want him to see you in that state. So you focused on the tree line cresting upwards, counting how many pine and maple you saw. Logan placed his calloused finger against your temple, tapping twice to ask again – too loud up there? The sigh that left your body was one of relief over sadness, knowing Logan understood made you feel better. Nodding against his finger, you gripped at your thighs, digging your nails into the plus fabric of your sweats.

Logan noticed how you were shaking, not from the cold but something else. He laced his arm around your back, pulling you closer to him. Gently he guided your head as much as it would go to his shoulder, the gentle whisps of his long hair falling over your forehead. Up and down his hand went against your back, rubbing soothing circles against your jacket. If you had it your way, you’d stay like this forever; Any contact with Logan, only grew the immense love you had for him. Saving your life did that, made you grow deep-rooted feelings for the man. Though you never wanted to let him know – not after what happened with your lover. It would be impossible to trust anyone like that again, there was no way in hell that you’d allow it to happen. Even if Logan was a mutant like you, Kayla using him for the same exact reason, you’d know it would be rocky to start. The fear of the unknown was worse than the knowing.

“What’s wrong?” Logan asks with concern, looking down at you from his angle. Brushing a few stray pieces of hair from your hair, he tucked his hand on your back against your shoulder, bringing it back to cradle your head. The small act of affection made your body shiver with delight; Being this close, this intimate with Logan was magical, if only you’d let yourself fully enjoy it. Shaking your head against his hand and shoulder, you snickered to yourself – loud enough for Logan to hear but low enough to where he couldn’t hear the slight sob that slipped out. He couldn’t feel the tears slipping down your face, he couldn’t see how broken you were.

Logan didn’t push, he noticed how quiet you got. With his hand on you, he could feel how you shook whilst you cried. He has super hearing, super smell – he could smell the tears falling before you even knew they were coming, could hear the sob threatening to fall with your snicker. The same heartbroken cries he omitted himself when Kayla betrayed him. This felt different; You stiffened under his touch, the whirlwind in your mind of the voices and constant anxious thoughts swirling as your eyes jutted from left to right. The sharp intake of his breath made you jump slightly, his hand reassured you by rubbing the back of your head. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked, lowering his head to your temple, laying a soft kiss there. His lips lingered on that soft spot, causing you to melt into him. The sigh of relief you let out reassured Logan that it wasn’t his doing, but you still needed to state it. “No.” It was one word barely above a whisper, but enough that he picked it up.

Nodding to acknowledge your word, Logan stared out at the mountain range, letting your head sink deeper against his collarbone. His grip on you never let up, keeping you where you needed to be against him, giving you that comfort of knowing you were not in this alone. “Do you miss them?” Sometimes he found himself missing Kayla – missing the love they had. He never experienced that until her, everything else being mere flings. But with her – it was everything to him. He didn’t feel like he was a monster or a freak, he felt seen. He wondered if you missed your old partner too, even with how bad they hurt you. God knows you’d be preaching to the choir with that, but he wasn’t too sure.

“God no.” It was a laugh that slipped out of your mouth, that was the sound Logan heard. A laugh so infectious and lovely he wanted to swim in it. He missed hearing that every morning, ever since you started to pull back from him. He knew you weren’t to blame, he could never blame you for anything. He knew how bad your mind could get, his was just as bad. But he never had anyone willing to help him through it – he wanted to be that person for you. Logan realized as he held you, as you laughed – you only started to pull back when the touches became more. When the hugs and smiles became genuine, not friendly. He realized that everything started, once that platonic line had been crossed – when he held your face in the kitchen last week, and gazed at you like he had with Kayla. It clicked for him in this moment as to why you were pulling back.

“Then what has my girl crying?” He let out with a breathy whisper, never pulling his lips back from your temple. He wanted to reassure you as much as he could, and hoped that you weren’t frustrated with him on that. Hearing Logan call you his girl made your heart sink – your self sabotage getting to it before your heart could. Slamming your eyes closed you scrunched your brows together, trying to push out the invasive thoughts burrowing deep within your brain. You were over it; The endless nights crying, the reclusiveness, pulling back from Logan. You wanted to believe you deserved the goodness in your life. You wanted to understand that you could open your heart again. You wanted Logan.

In that moment you realized, it wasn’t sadness clouding your mind, it was fear. The kind where you found yourself not truly believing you deserve the good of the world, where you feel safe and secure after years of living on the edge of it all. It was the kind of fear that made you second guess if you truly were meant to have this. It was never about it being a depression episode, but fear masking as that. Afraid that everything you wanted would not be enough to help you. But the thing is, it will. The day Logan looked at you with love in his eyes, was the day you felt everything creeping up. It was the day you guys silently gave up any platonic feelings you had for one another, and let love take its place. It all made sense now, and like the clouds after a thunderstorm – your skies started to clear.

Pulling your head back from Logan’s collarbone, you looked at him with misty eyes. He never backed away from your stare, instead matching it with his. His arm moved from your shoulder to your waist, his thumb rubbing circles against your clothed hip. That look, that damned look he gave you, it was all for you. “Nothing in my life has ever felt this right.” There was no use in stopping the tears from falling, from holding back the sob needing a release. You wanted to stop running and feel, Logan was going to be with you every step of the way. Logan didn’t have to think about anything in this moment, pulling you into his chest was the only answer. Pressing your face deep against his pecs, you sobbed openly into him, letting him absorb the rage, sadness, and anxiety you have been harboring. He wanted to take it all away from you and crush the doubt that made its way into your mind. “You deserve a good life, sweetheart. You deserve all the great things it will bring you.” Logan was starting to cry as well, needing to hear those words himself as well. Neither one of you were broken, just lost. You found each other when you needed someone the most, and that was the world’s way of converging your destinies.

“I’m not going anywhere, that’s a promise. We are in this together. You and I, okay?” Logan spoke out loud, rocking you back and forth against him. The act itself made your heart burst, brighter and louder than you thought even possible. This love you had been harboring for so long, finally found someone to give it to, and there was no going back on that. Pulling your head away from Logan’s chest, he took the opportunity to bring both of his hands up to your face. Cupping your cheeks sweetly, he ran his thumb over your skin, reveling in how warm you are. The way you looked at him, made his life worth fighting for.  “I will never let anything happen to you.” He growled with passion, bringing his face closer to yours. In that moment when your lips touched Logan’s for the first time, you truly felt safe. No more malice, no more fear – everything was right in your world.

-----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @mami-veracruz @salemslostwitch @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones @silversprings-mp3

[starkeyslibrary]

FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 4

pairing: you x drew starkey

authors note: first off, I want to apologize for the delay in getting Part 4 to you. the flu hit me hard, and while I’m feeling better now, I’m still not 100%. Today’s been one of the better days, so I’m happy to finally share this with you! also, for all the new readers joining this series (welcome!), a quick note about the taglist: If you’d like to be added, please send me a message instead of commenting under posts. my notifications can get a little wild sometimes, and I don’t want to miss anyone’s request. Enjoy!

It had been a couple of days since the paparazzi had caught you. The pictures of you crying alone in the street made their rounds through the tabloids. Headlines blared across every news outlet: “Y/N Heartbroken: Tears on the Streets After Split with Drew Starkey”. You couldn’t escape them – everywhere you went, there were reminders of how vulnerable you had been, how much you were hurting. You had tried to fight it, tried to keep up a front. But the pictures, the emotional rawness, had taken a toll.

Your phone buzzed incessantly with notifications, and Drew’s name popped up more than you cared to count. The text messages, the calls, the voicemails – he was reaching out, desperate to fix what he had broken. You could feel the weight of his messages pressing down on you, each one pulling at the strings of your broken heart.

Drew’s text:

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Please let me see you.”

“I didn’t mean this to happen. I miss you so much.”

“Can we please talk? I hate seeing you like this.”

You stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keys, but you couldn't bring yourself to reply. Every time you thought about responding, all you could see was that night – his absence, his lies, the way he had been with Odessa, and the emotional toll it was taking on you. The tears had fallen freely and now, in the cold light of day, they felt like a public spectacle. And that hurt.

Your friends were your saving grace during this time. Madelyn had taken you in the moment she found out about the photos. You spent long nights at her apartment, binge-watching shows and talking about everything and nothing. It was a distraction you needed, but even then, your thoughts kept circling back to Drew.

Madelyn was a good friend, she knew how to give space when you needed it but also to push you when you were being too hard on yourself. “Y/N, you can’t keep torturing yourself like this,” she told you one evening, as you both sat together on her couch, a glass of wine in hand. “I know it’s hard, but you have to stop looking at those pictures and thinking that’s all there is to your story. You deserve so much more than to be defined by what happened with Drew.”

“I know,” you sighed, resting your head against the back of the couch. “But it’s hard, Madelyn. It’s not just about the photos or the press. It’s everything. I thought we were more than that. I thought… I thought it was real.”

Madelyn’s expression softened, and she leaned in, taking your hand. “I know you did. And I think, deep down, Drew did too. But right now, you need to figure out what you want. Not what he wants. Not what the press wants. You need to decide what’s best for you.”

But even as your friends gave their support, you couldn’t escape the pull of Drew’s attempts to contact you. His phone calls became a constant. Every time your phone buzzed, your stomach twisted in knots. You hated that he was the one making you feel like this, that he still had the ability to drag you back into his world with just a message.

Finally, on one particularly sleepless night, the phone rang again. Drew’s name flashed across the screen.

You didn’t answer it.

Minutes later, another text from him:

“Please I can’t stand this. I’ve seen the pictures. I know you’re hurt. But I need you to know, I never wanted to hurt you. Us. I’m sorry for everything. Can we please meet and talk? I love you please don’t forget that.”

You stared at the message, feeling that familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to give him the chance to fix this, to explain himself. But another part of you – the stronger, more resilient part – was terrified of falling for the same lies, the same empty promises.

You knew what you had to do. You couldn’t keep letting him pull you back into this mess.

__

The next day, you went to work, keeping your head down, avoiding any attention. But it was impossible to escape the ever-present eyes of the public. Every glance at your phone, every time you stepped outside, you could feel the weight of the scrutiny. The paparazzi had followed you more than once, snapping pictures of you walking alone, trying to find solace in your routine.

But no matter where you went, there was always someone watching. Always someone commenting. The paparazzi caught it all – the lonely moments and the sadness in your eyes. It felt like you were trapped in a never ending cycle of being seen,  but not truly known.

It wasn’t long before Madelyn called you again. Her voice was gentle, but you could hear the concern behind it. “Y/N, Drew wants to meet. He’s asking if you can at least hear him out. He says he’s messed up. He is not asking for forgiveness, just a chance to explain.”

You stood by the window, staring out at the city, the weight of her words sinking in. You had to make a choice. You couldn’t keep going back and forth between holding on and letting go.

But could you trust him again?

The uncertainty gnawed at you, and all you could do was take a deep breath and say “Tell him… I’m not ready. Not yet.”

Madelyn didn’t argue. She knew this was something you had to figure out on your own.

You spent the next few days doing everything you could to put distance between yourself and the mess that had become your relationship with Drew. You kept working, you spent time with friends, and you tried – really tried not to think about him. But you couldn’t escape the feeling that something was missing, that your world felt incomplete without him in it.

But then you realized: You had to be okay without him first. You couldn’t keep trying to piece yourself together with someone who had already shown they weren’t ready to treat you the way you deserved.

And so, you decided that you needed to move on. You deserved better than being stuck in a limbo. You deserved love that was real, not based on a public imagine, not tainted by lies and half-truths.

This was your time to find yourself again. And maybe, just maybe, Drew wasn’t a part of that future.

TAGLIST: @princesspeach124 @idiotussupremus @eitaababe @13tter @drewsephrry @drewstarkeyzwhore @cooper8224 @maybankslover @elyseesarchive @ietss @esquivelbianca @josephandrewstarkey @willowpains @wtfdudesblog @purplerose291 @rafegf-real @matthewswifeyy @fangirl-magic @snowtargaryen @slut-era @leather-n-velvet

[rosesareredrosa]

So Obvious part 2

Theo x fem reader

Summary: Y/n realizes her feelings and mistakes and now comes to Theo to apologize and slowly restart their friendship and maybe become something more.

w/c: 920

The days following Theodore's confrontation with Y/N were agonizingly slow. The weight of his confession hung over him, and the uncertainty of Y/N's response gnawed at his thoughts. He replayed their conversation over and over, wondering if he had been too harsh, too impulsive. His friends noticed the change in him, but they respected his need for space.

In the Ravenclaw common room, Y/N was equally tormented. Theodore’s words echoed in her mind, the raw pain and frustration in his voice a stark contrast to the calm demeanor she had always associated with him. She had always admired Theo’s quiet strength, his unwavering loyalty, and his subtle kindness. She had been so focused on her studies and her own world that she hadn’t seen what was right in front of her.

Determined to make things right, Y/N decided to find Theodore and talk to him again. She needed to understand his feelings better and share her own. She found him in the Slytherin common room, sitting by the fireplace, staring into the flames. Gathering her courage, she approached him.

"Theo, can we talk?" she asked softly, her voice tentative.

Theodore looked up, surprise and a flicker of hope crossing his features. He nodded, gesturing for her to sit down.

Y/N took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about what you said. About how you've been trying to show me how you feel. I’m sorry I didn’t see it. I was so caught up in my own world that I missed the signs."

Theodore's gaze softened slightly, but his expression remained guarded. "I didn't mean to be so harsh, Y/N. I just... I needed you to understand how much this has been affecting me."

Y/N nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know, and I appreciate your honesty. I’ve been blind to what was right in front of me. But now that I know, I want you to know that I care about you too. More than I realized."

Theodore's heart ached at her words, a mix of relief and lingering pain. "You do?"

"Yes, Theo. I do," Y/N said, reaching out to take his hand. "I just didn't think you'd ever feel the same way about me. I thought you were just being a good friend."

Theodore squeezed her hand gently, a sad smile playing on his lips. "I’ve always felt more than that, Y/N. I’ve just been too scared to say it outright."

Y/N's eyes filled with regret. "I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to hide your feelings. I want to make it right, Theo. I want to try, if you're willing to give me a chance."

Theodore studied her for a moment, his emotions a turbulent mix of hope and hesitation. "It’s going to take time, Y/N. I’ve been hurt, and I need to trust that things will be different."

"I understand," Y/N said softly. "I’m willing to wait, and to show you that I care. You deserve that."

Theodore nodded, his heart swelling with a cautious optimism. "Alright. Let’s take it slow. We can figure this out together."

Over the next few weeks, Theodore and Y/N began to rebuild their relationship, taking tentative steps toward something more. They spent more time together, sharing their thoughts and feelings openly. It was a process of healing and rediscovery, and while it wasn’t always easy, it was worth it.

One evening, as they walked along the edge of the Black Lake, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the water, Y/N looked up at Theodore. "Thank you for giving us a chance, Theo."

Theodore smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I’m glad we’re trying. I’ve always been a fool for you, Y/N. And I think I’m okay with that."

Y/N laughed softly, leaning into him. "I think I am too."

As they stood there, watching the sun dip below the horizon, they both felt a sense of peace. It wasn’t the end of their journey, but a new beginning. For the first time in a long while, Theodore felt hopeful about the future, knowing that they were facing it together.

Days turned into weeks, and their bond grew stronger. Theodore found himself opening up in ways he had never imagined. The quiet moments they shared in the library, the walks by the Black Lake, and the late-night conversations in the common rooms all became precious memories.

One afternoon, while they were studying in the library, Y/N glanced up at Theo. “You know, Theo, I’ve been thinking about us.”

Theo looked up from his book, curiosity in his eyes. “What about us?”

Y/N smiled softly. “About how we started, how oblivious I was. I’ve come to realize how much you mean to me. How much you’ve always meant to me.”

Theo reached out, taking her hand in his. “I’m glad you see it now. It’s been a long road, but I wouldn’t change a thing if it brought us here.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with emotion. “Me neither. I’m grateful for your patience, Theo. For everything.”

Theo leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You’re worth it, Y/N. Every moment of doubt, every second of frustration. You’re worth it all.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with affection, and she leaned in closer, resting her head against his shoulder. They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s presence, finding solace in the unspoken words between them.

In that moment, Theodore knew he was no longer a fool. He was simply a man in love, and that was more than enough.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 11 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna hits rock bottom, she knows she needs to figure out how to put herself back together. But she also knows that leaving Kevin behind once and for all will require her to give up the only thing she wants from him. Maybe a shot at happiness with Bob would have been worth it.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, 18+

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

If this wasn't rock bottom, Anna didn't want to know what was. She spent Sunday night laying on the floor next to her bed alternating between crying and hyperventilating. Apparently she couldn't do both at the same time, because her body kept giving each activity its full attention before switching again. When she finally started to fall asleep around three o'clock, her ribs were aching so much, she didn't see how she would be able to teach in a few hours. But it didn't matter. She wouldn't be going to campus anyway.

When she woke up at six, she crawled to her computer and emailed everyone in her classes, informing them that she would not be in today and to work through the syllabus independently until their next class with her. All of the other professors pulled this kind of thing all the time, but she still felt guilty which triggered more tears. If Kevin somehow cost her a full time tenure position along with her happiness, she didn't know what else she had that he could possibly take from her.

When she thought about Bob, it hurt so badly she had to run to the toilet. And when she thought about Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics, it hurt almost just as much. She was in love with so many things in San Diego, but she'd dragged her past here along with her even if she didn't want to acknowledge that fact. She'd brought this dark shadow along that tainted everything and left her wondering if she could fix any of it at this point. If she could even figure out how to start.

As she hiccupped alone in her bathroom, she knew she needed to mentally backtrack to New Jersey for the first time in a long time before she could focus on San Diego. When she crawled back toward her bed, she located her phone and found the contact information for her lawyer's office. It was late enough on the east coast that someone answered after one ring, and soon Anna had to use her scratchy, raw voice to try to communicate.

"When will my divorce be final?" she managed to ask as she propped herself against the wall. She left herself hungry every day, and she was living in this tiny room simply so she could pay these people to help her sort out her life, but the response she got was not ideal.

"Ms. Webber... your husband still has three days left to comply, but he has not done so yet."

Anna wanted to scream, but her throat felt like it was constricting. Why wouldn't he just let her have the one thing she wanted? She wasn't asking for anything extra, just the thing she worked so hard to make her own. She didn't even care about all of the money. But he wouldn't let her have it. Even though she didn't want to fight for anything else in the house, he still wouldn't comply. He was making hundreds of thousands of dollars now, and she wanted none of it back, but he knew that her manuscript was the one thing meant something to her. He would happily drag this out until she had nothing left.

She knew she needed to wait it out. It was her fault she hadn't filed sooner. She let Kevin's words destroy her even when she knew he was sleeping with Alyssa. She let him convince her that she needed him for way too long. "What happens in three days?" she finally asked.

"If he doesn't comply, then you can restructure your end of the divorce agreement, and we can try again."

Anna knew what that meant for her, but she didn't know if she could pull the trigger. Restructure it? There was only one thing she could remove. Kevin would come out clean as a whistle, and she would lose everything she hadn't already.

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

When Bob knocked on the door at seven in the morning after barely sleeping at all, Jessica looked concerned when she opened it, and Jake looked annoyed. "What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out and running her hand along his stubbled cheek. "Why haven't you shaved? Why do you look so upset?"

"Why are you even here?" Jake called from the kitchen where he was cooking breakfast in his uniform.

"I need to talk to you," Bob croaked, and Jessica pulled him inside and gently guided him toward the couch. She rubbed his back and didn't rush him as he sat there, and Jake even stopped turning to glare from in front of the waffle iron.

"Did you know Anna's married?"

Bob could tell by the sharp intake of breath and the way Jessica's hand came to a screeching halt on his back that she had no idea.

"She's what?"

"Married," he repeated without any feeling whatsoever. The handful of hours he'd spent around her were some of the best of his life, but he would have never let his friends try to push them together if he'd know. He should have let her keep him in the friend zone when she tried to let him know that's what she wanted. Mutual attraction be damned, she'd made marriage vows to someone else. He just wished he would have known.

"No," Jessica said adamantly. "How? She's got no rings, and she said she lives alone. She mentioned an ex before, but I'm virtually certain he's still in New Jersey. She... struggles with certain things, and if she was married, someone would be helping her make ends meet. I don't know where you came up with this, but no."

Bob took his glasses off and set them down on the arm of the couch while he ran his hands over his exhausted eyes. "Jessica. She told me she was."

"Well," his friend said as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, "I'll ask her about it at lunchtime today. There must be some sort of miscommunication."

"I don't think so," he groaned softly. "We... slept together, and those were her parting words as she ran out of my house."

"You slept together?!" Jessica practically shrieked. 

"It's about damn time!" Jake called from the kitchen, clanging his spatulas together and whooping loudly.

But Bob was shaking his head and staring at the floor through his slightly fuzzy vision. He had his phone in his hand all night, trying to decide if he should call or text her, wondering if she went home to climb into bed with her husband. Scared that this was the reason why she squeezed herself into her apartment door before closing it abruptly when he drove her home.

"I should have backed off when she friend zoned me the first time. I should have never believed that I could be with a woman like her." A woman that inspired the best poetry he'd ever written in his life. A woman who made him want everything.

It finally dawned on Bob that there might be an irate husband in his future, and he would just have to take whatever came his way. Because there wasn't a chance that Anna didn't have her spouse wrapped around her fingers. Even if she had a lapse of judgement when it came to Bob, Anna's husband would know how good he had it and want to fight for her. Bob would just have to take it on the chin.

When Jessica kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll try to sort this out," he just nodded with his shoulders slumped and his elbows digging into his thighs. But there was nothing to sort out. Anna would never be his, and now he would have to pay the price for the way she told him she was married about an hour too late to take it all back. Honestly, he never thought accidentally sleeping with a married woman was something he would ever have to deal with in his wildest dreams, and now that he was forced to do it, he was getting pretty mad.

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

Anna managed to give her Classics lecture on Tuesday morning with a sore throat after screaming into her pillow off and on for most of Monday afternoon. She hadn't eaten in days, and if anyone noticed her puffy, red eyes, they didn't mention it to her. She had quizzes to grade and reports to read, but when she went back to her office, the overwhelming scent of bread from the cafeteria made her gag.

There was a pack of peanuts in her desk along with a room temperature can of ginger ale, but she had no appetite yet. She was just in survival mode until she decided what to do when Kevin's time was up. Until she worked up the courage to talk to Bob and apologize.

He was the sweetest man she had ever known, and her lapse of judgement was going to cost her any chance with him in the future as well as her friendships. In fact, none of them were ever going to want to speak to her again, and that's what she deserved. If she would have just been honest with Bob, she wouldn't be in this mess. But San Diego was like a balm for her senses, making her feel normal where she knew she wasn't. Maybe Bob would have been willing to wait a few more months until she figured out her next steps. Maybe he would have accepted that she was legally separated from Kevin if her husband would just sign the fucking paperwork.

Tears were burning her eyes again just as someone knocked on her office door. She sat perfectly still, silently begging them to go away, praying that everyone would leave her alone until she could sneak out and go home later.

"Anna?"

She knew that voice so well, and she was shocked to find that it sounded more concerned than angry.

"It's just us," came the second voice, and without another thought, Anna was on her feet, wrenching the door open as she started to sob. "Oh, Anna," whispered Jessica as she collected her into her arms.

Anna stood in the middle of her tiny office and cried and cried in Jessica's arms while her other friend studiously locked the door and dimmed the lights before reaching for the box of tissues on the shelf. "Here," she whispered, and Anna accepted a wad of tissues from her.

She tried to mop at her face, but it was a lost cause. Jessica pushed the loose strands of her red hair back from her eyes as she said, "Anna, we're here for you, but I think we need to talk. For real."

"We have some... concerns."

Anna tried to take huge gulps of air into her burning lungs as she gasped, "I'm really not okay. I hurt Bob."

Her friends looked at each other before Jessica said, "I think it's time you backtracked a little bit. Maybe all the way back to New Jersey."

"I hated it there," she told them immediately, wiping at her eyes as she sat on the edge of her desk, bracing herself for the interrogation to come. 

Advanced Calculus eyed her sympathetically before a look of steel locked in her gaze. "Are you married?"

Anna nodded slightly, cringing as she pictured Kevin's face. "Technically, yes."

"Anna!" Jessica exclaimed. "You slept with Bob!"

They knew. They knew everything. Bob told them, and they knew what she'd done. She cradled her forehead in her hands and said, "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I hate Kevin. I don't think we were even married two years before he started cheating on me. I'm trying my best to divorce him, but he just won't fucking let me."

"What do you mean he won't let you?" Advanced Calculus asked, cutting off Jessica before she could screech again.

"He is ruining my life," Anna whispered, finally starting to feel more anger than anything else. "Like an idiot, I've let him ruin my life. I put him through medical school. I dropped out of Princeton to work two jobs to put my husband through medical school." Her voice faded into a soft yet harsh whisper. "Kevin promised he'd take care of me after that so I could finish my Ivy League PhD. But then he started cheating on me because I was always tired and boring and no fun. Because all I was doing was working to pay his tuition for four years straight while he fucked another medical student between classes. I caught them having sex in my car."

"No," both women gasped at the same time. But she just nodded as the memories she had tried so hard to keep at bay since she moved to California came roaring back.

"That's not a marriage," Jessica practically growled, reaching out for Anna's hand that she hadn't even been aware was shaking. "Not really."

"You're right," Anna agreed. "I'm a joke." She honestly felt like one. Images of Bob's face and the memory of his kind voice flooded her system. The way he looked at her and touched her felt like love. The things he wrote about her had her almost convinced he could love her back.

"You're not a joke, Anna," her friend told her. "You're a smart, capable woman who should have come to her friends months ago with all of this information."

"I hate Kevin!" Jessica shrieked before biting down on her own fingertips, and it was so comical, Anna might have laughed if she was in a better frame of mind.

"Yes," Advanced Calculus agreed. "Kevin sounds like an asshole. But you know who isn't an asshole? Bob. But right now, he kind of feels like one."

Anna closed her eyes as the tears started welling up faster. "I tried so hard. You have to believe me. But Bob is perfect. And he didn't think I was boring. But I wasn't planning on falling in love ever again."

"You love him?" Jessica snapped loudly. "You love him? Because Bob thinks you are in a loving marriage with your spouse!"

"Jessica, go sit in the desk chair and calm down," the other woman commanded, and Anna watched the petite, bespectacled blonde stomp around her desk. "Now, Anna, why didn't you explain this all to Bob before you rocked the man's whole world and then ran off into the night like Cinderella?"

"I freaked out," Anna whispered, swallowing hard. "He's the perfect man. He did everything exactly right, and he was exquisite." She looked down at the floor as she said, "I haven't been touched like that in years. Like I was worth something. I'm not even thirty yet, and my husband ditched me for someone else while actively bankrupting me." She was mortified by what she was telling them, but she couldn't stop herself now. "Kevin always said I should dye my hair, and he loved it when I wore makeup. But Bob... he likes my hair and my freckles. He likes the books I read. He thinks I'm smart." She felt her face warm up as she thought about his poems. "We had sex, and then he was looking at me, and he started talking about us. I can't be an us with someone when I can't shake Kevin."

Anna could practically feel Jessica freaking out in the chair behind her, but she kept her eyes on the floor. "If you need help with Kevin or money for a lawyer or something-" Jessica said, but Anna cut her off.

"No. I'm fine. But he's going to force me to decide if I'd rather have my freedom or my self worth. And right now, I can't decide what I want to let him get away with when he already took so much."

"Hey," her much calmer friend said softly, and Anna finally met her eyes. "We're here for you. Anything you need, okay? But I need you to promise you'll talk to Bob. The sooner the better." Then Anna watched her reach for her tie dye lunch box which she apparently brought in with her and pulled out one of her fancy containers. "Bradley made you some hummus, and I packed you crackers and veggies to go with it. Please make sure you're eating. And please talk to Bob. I need to go teach Differential Equations, but I'll text you later. Jess, you have Physics III in fifteen minutes."

Anna received two hugs that she barely returned, and when the two women were gone, she sank into her chair and managed to eat some of the hummus without gagging. Then she texted Bob, because if nothing else, she needed him to know how sorry she was for running out on him. How sorry she was for all of it.

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

Anna wanted to talk to him on Thursday evening. Bob had to fight the urge to offer to pick her up on campus and save her from having to take an Uber to his house, especially after the few details that Jessica told him about her finances. She confirmed that Anna was married. She also promised him that there was no angry spouse waiting to jump him in the In 'N Out parking lot. She also told him that he needed to give Anna a chance to clear the air. So he agreed. He was free on Thursday. It wasn't like he'd been doing anything except going to work and coming straight home all week, even avoiding Suzanne as much as he could. And he wasn't going to break his promise to Jessica, even though Nat told him to delete Anna's number.

Bob sat in his living room, staring at his new bookshelf in disgust. He'd let himself fall into a fantasy where he imagined someday Anna's books would get mixed up with his on the shelves. Where all of her dog eared novels would live alongside his pristine ones. He'd been subconsciously thinking about it since he met her.

His insides were churning with anxiety. Part of him wanted to scream at her that none of this was fair to him, but the other part knew that no matter what, he still didn't want to see tears in her brown eyes. He couldn't let her take all of the blame for this anyway. He'd even told Jessica that she pushed a little too hard and that she shouldn't do that again in the future.

When there was a knock on his door, it was hard for him to stand up. How was he supposed to do this? He dragged himself across his living room to his front door and carefully opened it to find Anna with the saddest expression imaginable on her face. She looked somehow smaller and paler than she should. She looked like she hadn't slept. And that's when Bob realized he must look the same way to her.

"Hi," she whispered, brown eyes darting around his face nervously. She held out a small bouquet of blue flowers and the books she had borrowed in his direction, and Bob noticed her hands were shaking. "Um, I got these for you. They look like the flowers on the cover of the Whitman poems, and I thought of you when I saw them at the store."

"Anna," Bob groaned as he took them from her along with the books. He moved out of the doorway so she could come inside, and somehow he still couldn't decide if he was angry at her or not.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, turning to look at him once she was halfway across the room. There were several feet of space between them, but he could smell her hair. She was wearing the jeans she wore last time she went to the Hard Deck. He knew what that shirt felt like between his fingers. He could tell she was trying not to cry as she said, "I'm just really sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me you're married?" he snapped, unable to hold back. He knew his tone was harsh as he added, "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because I should have been divorced by now!" she practically shouted, and Bob was instantly more soothed by that sentence than he should have been. "You think I want to be married to the worst man I know?" He had so many questions already, but something told him to just let her keep going. "That's why I'm here. In San Diego. He was supposed to sign the papers so I could get on with my ridiculous life, but he won't!" She sucked in a deep breath before she said, "And it's eating me alive knowing what I kept settling for when you exist! Knowing that I could have been with a man like you."

Her lips were moving like she was shivering, and her eyes were wide and watery. Red blotches covered her freckled cheeks, and Bob just knew she was going to panic again. She made a helpless noise and rushed forward, ready to run, but this time he caught her in his arms, the books and flowers falling to the floor. He let her struggle for a few seconds as she cried, but he held on tight.

"Anna," he said softly. "You can't keep running."

Her body slumped against his. She looked up at him as he held her, and a few seconds later, she let her cheek come to rest against his chest. She nodded against him as she whispered, "I don't really have anywhere to go anyway."

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

Bob kept his distance while also somehow always being nearby. Anna knew he was probably expecting her to vanish again if he turned his back for too long, but she was too mentally and physically exhausted to move from his living room couch while he fixed some tea. It was getting dark outside, and it was nearly impossible to try to think about anything other than Sunday night when she felt truly free for the first time in years. 

Similar thoughts must have been on Bob's mind, because he was still occasionally looking at her like he used to. Then his cheeks would turn pink, and he'd duck his head before showing her a completely neutral expression. She took the mug of tea he handed her and whispered, "Thank you," as he sat down as far away from her as he could. She cleared her throat as she looked into her drink and said, "You're one of the kindest, most generous people I've ever met." She forced her gaze to his face. "I'm sorry I took that for granted. And I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you and the ladies."

Bob nodded but didn't speak for a minute. His voice was as gentle as always as he eventually said, "I'd like it if we could talk."

"Yeah," she agreed softly now that she felt like the fight inside her was gone and the tears had finally dried up.

"Where's your husband?"

She pictured Kevin standing in the perfect kitchen in the beautiful house on the cul-de-sac. "In New Jersey."

"Right," Bob replied in a reassuring tone. "You said you should have been divorced by now, so does that mean you don't want to be married to him?"

"I hate him," she whispered, back to staring into her mug. "And I'm sure he hates me, too. No, I don't want to be married to him any longer."

"You're separated?" he asked softly.

Anna shrugged, wishing more than anything that she could scoot a little closer to Bob and feel his hand on hers. "Not legally. He won't sign anything."

"Right," Bob repeated again. "Would it be too much for me to ask what happened? Because I really don't understand. I'm trying, but I'm still so confused, Anna."

Her brain was screaming at her to start crying again, begging her to fall apart or hyperventilate, but she didn't even have the energy for it. She took one long sip of her perfect cup of tea before setting it aside and turning to look at him. Even now, he had sympathy in his eyes. Whether that was because he now knew she and Kevin weren't really together or because he was always this sweet, she couldn't say. But he was everything she wanted and would never have again. 

"The short version is that I put him through medical school while he cheated on me. The long version is that he used up every bit of my money, let me work myself ragged, prevented me from finishing my PhD at Princeton, belittled me, and flaunted his extramarital relationship in my face. It was humiliating knowing he was cheating. It's humiliating eating sandwiches and peanuts for every meal now. But the worst thing is that he is holding my manuscript hostage, and no matter what I do, he won't let me have it back."

"Jesus, Anna," he gasped, making the slightest move like he wanted to reach for her before pulling back.

She slowly stood, and he looked up at her, trying to gauge what she was going to do, but she just looked down at him as she tucked her shaking hands behind her back. "You're perfect," she whispered. "You're Sky Writing. You're the handsome man from the bookstore who smells like tea and soap. You're Bob, the guy my friends knew I would fall in love with as soon as I met them." She took a step back, barely able to handle how he was looking at her like she still mattered. "But I don't know how to be an us with you. I know that's what you want, but I never wanted to fall like this again. I tried my best not to. I can't do this with Kevin's shadow behind me all the time. And I'm just really sorry I let it go as far as it did. Because now that I know so much about you...."

That's when the tears arrived, and that's also when Bob stood up. "Anna, I feel like-"

When he cut himself off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air for a few seconds, she took one long, last look at him and whispered, "I'm going to go." He didn't stop her from stepping over the flowers, walking out the door, and heading to the end of his street where she waited for a ride as the night air made her shiver, and her tear streaked cheeks finally started to dry again.

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

Oh, they both fell for each other. I'm not sure if Bob feels better or worse now. Kevin is an absolute dick, and we will hear from him in the next chapter. Keep fighting, Anna. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

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[tired-truffle]

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.2k

Part 2/17

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore (if anyone else would like to be tagged with future updates let me know!)

“You poor thing. Sweet, mourning lamb. There's nothing you can do. It's already been done.” - Ethel Cain

Masterlist

Nothing killed the mood like the growling of one’s stomach. When was the last time you ate? Yesterday morning? No, you hadn’t been able to stomach anything after Sky’s…had she died only two days ago? And her spirit, once trapped in the Hexcore, had you truly managed to free her? Your magic was greedy, it stood to reason it wouldn’t want to let her go - but you hadn’t the faintest idea how you could figure that out.

The cupboards were bare, not a single crumb or drop of water left in the house, and you had quickly run into a dilemma; Viktor wanted to venture out to find food, and more importantly water, but your body was weak and uncooperative. Your legs gave out as you tried to descend the stairs, landing on your backside as you slid the rest of the way down. Mortified, you’d tried to stand again, only for your knees to buckle and send you back to the floor. Viktor had fretted over you, descending the stairs behind you at an alarming rate, and you were sure that he would follow your path. But his new body was improved in coordination and stronger than yours. Once he’d ensured you were alright, your magic already at work to numb any pain, it became clear that neither of you felt comfortable leaving the other alone. But the dry, sandpaper-like feeling in your throat reminded you that water was essential for survival. Damn it.

“It’s too dangerous for you to go out there alone,” you insisted as he helped you sit up, his arm under your shoulder. “We don’t know enough about what I did to you, what if you get stuck out there? I won’t know where you are.”

“I’m aware of my capabilities, Milá. I will be back before you know it.” 

“You don’t know that,” you pressed, your voice hoarse from dehydration, “we’ve seen how unpredictable my magic is. It’s too much of a risk.” 

Viktor sighed, his metallic fingers gently squeezing your shoulder. "Milá, we don't have much choice. We can't both go in your condition, and we can't both stay here and wither away."

You knew he was right, but fear clouded your judgment. The memory of Sky's fate was still raw, a festering wound. Not to mention you’d almost lost Viktor as well.

"There has to be another way," you insisted, your voice rising. "We just need to think—"

In your agitation, you waved your hand and as you did, a shimmering distortion appeared in the air before you, coalescing into a large pitcher filled to the brim with clear, cool water. It hung there momentarily, suspended by some unseen force, before gently settling onto the floor between you and Viktor.

You both stared at it, mouths agape, minds struggling to process. The pitcher sat there, a perfect image of innocence and purity against the backdrop of dusk and muck. It was almost surreal, as if it had been plucked from the lab and dropped into this unexpected setting.

“Did I do that?” You inched towards the pitcher, suspicion wrinkling the skin around your eyes. 

“It wasn’t me,” Viktor offered unhelpfully, and you shot him an unimpressed glare.

With a hesitant and careful movement, you reached out to touch the pitcher, quickly retracting your hand as though it might bite when you hit the smooth surface.

Viktor’s eyes were full of sparkling curiosity as he observed the mysterious object. “There is only one way to ensure its safety.”

“Which is?” You’d barely gotten your question out before Viktor had snatched up the pitcher and brought it to his mouth. His throat bobbed as he swallowed down a generous amount of the clear liquid.

“Viktor!” you shouted, panic crashing through you and the web of your magic pulsing its concern - a few squeals had you glancing around for those damned sparks, but they remained elusive.

He chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to clear away any lingering droplets. “Human experimentation may be frowned upon, but it’s an exceptionally accurate test,” he remarked. “That and I was very thirsty.” 

“That’s not funny,” you hissed, snatching the pitcher from his hands and holding it close to your chest, your bottom lip jutted out in a childish pout. 

“It’s a little bit funny.” The corners of his mouth curved upward into a sly grin, causing a flicker of irritation to flare up within you.

“What if it’s poison? Just cause it looks like water doesn’t mean it is.” You sniffed the pitcher, the smell of the porcelain the only scent you caught. 

“Given that I’m still breathing, it’s safe to say that it’s at least not a fast-acting poison. I also trust you not to summon a jar of poison.” He gestured towards the pitcher. “You should drink, Milá. It is important for your recovery that you remain hydrated.” 

You were well aware of that, given how many times you’d burned yourself. And you were incredibly thirsty, your lips dry and cracking, your tongue feeling like it was made out of sand.

With a quick glance at Viktor, and then back to the pitcher, you lifted it to your lips and let the cool liquid flow down your throat. The refreshing taste brought relief to your parched mouth, and even if it turned out to be poison, you didn't care anymore.

When you finally lowered the pitcher, gasping for air, you noticed a secretive smile playing on Viktor’s lips.

"What?" you asked, copying his motion from earlier and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Nothing," he replied, reaching for the pitcher. "I'm just glad to see you looking more…alive."

You rolled your eyes, though that didn’t stop the affection that spread through your chest. As Viktor took his turn drinking, you felt a sudden pang in your stomach. Right, you were also starving. Water alone wouldn't sustain you for long.

Your stomach growled loudly, causing Viktor to pause mid-sip and raise an eyebrow. "I suppose water isn't quite enough, is it?"

Embarrassed, you shook your head. But you had an idea; if you could summon water, why wouldn’t you be able to do the same with food? Focusing on the space in front of you, you willed a plate of food to appear just as the pitcher had. You pictured a steaming bowl of stew, some crackers, and maybe even a slice of pie for dessert. Your brow furrowed with concentration, but nothing materialized.

"It's not working," you grumbled, your fists clenching - and swiftly unclenching when a spasm of pain made it through your numbing barrier and up your arm. 

Viktor set down the pitcher and scooted closer to you. "Perhaps we're approaching this the wrong way," he mused, his analytical mind already at work. "What were you thinking about when you conjured the water?"

You thought back to that moment, trying to recall your exact state of mind. "I was…scared. Worried about you going out alone. And I wanted there to be another way."

Viktor nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And now?"

"Now I'm just hungry. And annoyed that it's not working."

Viktor chuckled, soft and patient. "Ah, there's our problem. Your magic responds to emotion, not just need. When you summoned the water, you were feeling protective, weren't you? You wanted to keep me safe."

You nodded slowly, beginning to see where he was going with this.

"So," Viktor continued, taking your hand in his, "let's try focusing on positive feelings. Think about how good it will feel to eat, how it will help us both recover."

You closed your eyes, letting Viktor's words wash over you. You thought about shared meals in the lab, and late-night snacks as you pestered him with questions that he never seemed to mind, the simple joy of eating with someone you cared about. As you concentrated on those memories, you felt a tingling sensation in your fingertips.

"Milá," Viktor's voice was soft and you leaned towards him instinctively. "Open your eyes."

You did, and there before you was a small feast: a tureen of fragrant soup, a loaf of crusty bread, and even a modest chocolate cake. Not exactly what you’d had in mind, but wonderful nonetheless. The sight and smell permeated the mildew of the old house, making it feel a little more alive and welcoming.

"It worked!" you exclaimed, reaching out to touch the bread, just to make sure it was real. The crust crackled under your fingers, still warm as if fresh from the oven.

"Remarkable." Viktor leaned in to examine the food more closely. "Your powers continue to astound me."

You couldn't help but beam at his praise, a warm flush creeping up your neck. But the growling of your stomach quickly reminded you of more pressing matters.

"We can study it later," you said, already tearing off a chunk of bread. "Right now, I'm starving."

Viktor helped himself to some soup, and you found yourself momentarily distracted by the way his thick eyebrows furrowed slightly as he blew on the broth to cool it down. But your hunger would not be ignored for long, and you were quickly brought back to the task at hand.

You ate in comfortable silence, at the bottom of the steps, not bothering to move to a more suitable location - there really wasn’t anywhere else anyway. As the food hit your stomach, you found your sour mood vanishing beneath the warmth that rose at the sight of Viktor, alive and sort of well, eating with you on the floor of his childhood home. 

“I can’t believe you've been calling me Darling all these years and I never even knew.” You broke the quiet as you polished off the last bites of your meal, lightly nudging his foot with yours. “Who even does that?”

He smiled wide and brimming with affection, and you thought you may swoon from the sweetness of it all. “A besotted fool.”

A rosy blush spread across your cheeks and over the tips of your ears.

“Though, I must admit that I got a little flustered and used the wrong conjugation,” he said with a sheepish grin, a light red tinge running up his neck. “It should be miláčku, if I am using it to address you. Miláček would be used when talking about someone.”

“Oh,” you thought on it for a moment. “Well, that’s not too bad.”

He cleared his throat, finding a keen interest in the corner of the ceiling. “It is also, ah, a male term of endearment.”

You stared at Viktor blankly for a moment. Then, like a dam bursting, laughter erupted from deep within your chest. It started as a giggle, then grew into a full-bodied guffaw that shook your entire frame. Tears sprang to your eyes as you gasped for air between peals of laughter.

The absurdity of it all hit you in waves. Here you were, sitting on the dusty stairs of a dilapidated house, having just conjured a meal out of thin air, learning that the man you'd been pining after for years had been calling you by a male pet name this entire time. The juxtaposition of the profound and the ridiculous was too much to bear.

You clutched your sides, your ribs aching. You tried to speak, to say something witty or clever, but every time you opened your mouth, another bout of giggles overtook you.

Viktor's face flushed an even deeper shade of red. "I panicked," he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair. "But it could have been worse; my mother called broučku."

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you managed to collect yourself enough to ask, “What does that mean?”

He grinned, finally meeting your gaze. “Little beetle.”

You gasped, your eyes widening with delight. "Little beetle? That's adorable!" A matching grin spread across your face, imagining a tiny Viktor scampering about. "Oh, I can just picture your mom scooping you up and calling you her little broučku!"

Viktor's brow furrowed, his lips pursed in a mock pout. "I'm not a teeny insect, thank you very much. I'm a respected scientist and inventor."

You giggled at his indignation. "Even if you were the world's smallest bug, I'd still love you," you declared. "I'd build you a terrarium and everything. It would have little beakers and test tubes, maybe a tiny chalkboard for your calculations."

"Well, I suppose that wouldn't be so bad," he conceded, his metallic fingers drumming a gentle rhythm on his leg. "Though I must insist on proper ventilation.”

“Only the best for you, my little bug,” you crooned with saccharine sweetness.

Viktor's lips quirked into a smirk. "I’m shocked to find out that you could hold such feelings for an insect. I better not see you cavorting around with any of the spiders in this house. Some have particularly large backsides that I cannot compete with."

The mental image his words conjured was too much. You dissolved into another fit of giggles, imagining Viktor sizing himself up against a portly arachnid.

"I don't know," you managed between gasps, wiping tears from your eyes. "Those spiders are pretty tempting. All those legs, you know? Very sexy."

Viktor's eyebrows shot up, a look of mock horror crossing his face. "Milá! How could you? Here I thought we had something special, and you're off fantasizing about eight-legged womanizers."

You leaned in close, your nose nearly brushing his. "What can I say? I like my men with an exoskeleton."

Viktor's laugh was rich and warm and you revelled in it. But as it subsided, a comfortable silence settled over you both. The mirth lingered in your eyes, softening into something warmer, more tender. You found yourself studying Viktor's face, tracing the lines of his jaw, noting how the fading light caught in his amber eyes.

“You can call me Miláček or miláčku,” you said. “I like both, even if they’re technically meant for men. It’s just my name, regardless of its meaning. I don’t think anything else would fit at this point.”

"I'm glad," he said, barely above a whisper. "Though I think I prefer miláčku. It suits you better."

His metallic hand reached out, hesitant at first, then gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The cool touch sent chills down your neck, but it wasn't unpleasant. If anything, it heightened your awareness of how close you were sitting, your knees almost touching.

“It seems silly now,” you leaned into his touch, “to let it go unsaid for so long.” 

His smile softened, and you scooted closer, knees knocking together, needing to be near him. “I didn’t want to burden you with my impending death more than I already had.”

You wrapped your arm around his waist, leaning into his side. “You have never been a burden, Viktor.”

“Still,” he doubled down, “it didn’t seem fair of me to confess my feelings. I worried I’d only hurt you more in the end. You deserve to live a long and happy life with whomever you choose.” 

You paused, the slight crease of a frown tugging at your lips as you tilted your head upward. Your eyes followed his gaze towards the door, noticing the tension in his jaw as he deliberately avoided looking directly at you. “Do you blame yourself for this?” 

He pursed his thin lips, sighing as he looked towards his feet. “You were hurt during the explosion at the council that I attended, and then, to save me from my body’s failings, you endangered yourself, used the Hexcore and almost—“ he cut himself off, clamping his mouth shut. “Now, you’re stuck in the abandoned slums of the Undercity because I brought you here. I fail to see how that is not my fault.” 

With a flicker of playful familiarity, you mimicked a move he had frequently used on you. Gently, your fingers grasped his chin and turned his face to meet yours, a slight dip of your head allowing your eyes to meet his downcast gaze. You smiled almost shyly as you brushed your thumb across his bottom lip, feeling the cracked texture beneath your touch. “It was my decision to save you and the rest of the council from the explosion, just as it was my decision to absorb the Hexcore to save you. And it is still my decision to be here with you. I don’t care where we are, as long as we are together. Don’t think for one moment that I regret getting more time with you. Besides, it’s not like either of us could go back to Piltover looking like this.” 

His lips parted, staring at you as though you hung the sun and the moon and scattered the stars across the night sky. “I appreciate you attempting to absolve me of my guilt, but I had a part to play in all this too.” 

He held your right hand in his, palm up as he traced the now healed - thanks to the Shimmer - burn scarring your skin. It had been the consequences of the first time you’d tried to heal Viktor with the Hexcore.

“Maybe,” you said nonchalantly, “but I don’t blame you for it.” 

“No, you blame yourself, which I would argue is not an improvement.”

“Then we will both have to work on absolving ourselves of guilt. It happened, and there’s nothing we can do to change that.” Easier said than done, but it was a start, if nothing else. “All we can do now is move forward and try to do our best.” 

“Wise words from a woman who only moments ago was pouting over potentially poisoned water,” he teased, brushing his nose against yours. 

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that little stunt. You owe me for the mini heart attack you gave me.”

Viktor grinned, promise glinting in his amber-hued gaze. “I’m sure I can figure out some way to make it up to you.”

Your heart fluttered at Viktor's suggestive tone, but exhaustion quickly dampened any amorous intentions. You settled for nestling closer, breathing in his familiar scent as your eyelids grew heavy.

The days that followed blended together in a haze of rest and recovery. You found yourself able to conjure food and water with increasing ease, though you couldn’t figure out how to choose what you got. One morning, you woke to find a steaming plate of eggs benedict waiting for you, complete with a delicate sprig of parsley on top.

You and Viktor fell into a comfortable routine. During the day, you’d talk softly about everything and nothing, exchanging tender kisses that left you breathless. At night, you curled up together on the hard floor, but you didn’t mind it so much as long as you weren’t alone.

Your strength returned gradually as you recovered, and you found yourself able to make the trip up and down the stairs. You were thankful that the bathroom was on the second floor, though it wasn’t ideal. The plumbing was no longer functional, but you’d made do with a bucket and tried not to dwell on the less-than-ideal situation.

The hallucinations persisted, though none quite as terrifying as that first night. Occasionally, you'd see Sky's ghost watching you from the corner of the room, hear Jayce’s laughter or whispers from the Hexcore. But they were fleeting, like echoes of a fading dream.

Your magic continued its mischievous streak. One afternoon, you sneezed and accidentally turned all the dust particles in the air into tiny butterflies. Another time, you laughed so hard at one of Viktor's dry jokes that you cracked the bedroom door.

But as you grew stronger, Viktor declined. His movements became slower, more laboured. Dark circles deepened under his eyes, and his skin took on a sickly pallor. You caught him wincing when he thought you weren't looking, his hand pressed against his chest as if to hold something in.

He tried to hide it, of course, brushing off your concerns with a smile and a quip. But you knew him too well to be fooled.

“Viktor,” you said one night as you lay together on the hard ground, your magic refusing to conjure up anything but food and water - incredibly frustrating when what you really wanted was a simple tube of lip balm. “Do you feel it?”

“Feel what, exactly?” The words fell from his mouth with a practiced ease, but you weren't fooled by the casualness in his tone. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

You raised your hand off his chest, letting your magic poke and prod at the responding sparks that bounced off his metal skin. “The magic is fading, it’s not settling out. What I did was temporary, and the only way to do it again—“

“No,” he spoke over you, firm and tightening his grip around your waist. “I will not risk you like that.” 

“I will not let you die,” you countered. “Do you have an alternative?” 

His silence was answered enough. 

“Soraka said that if I pulled too much on the Hexcore her spell would unravel, but what if I only pull on it a little bit? I already fortified you, maybe it will only need some touch-ups.” 

He shook his head, and frustration rose like bile in your throat. “That is too dangerous. We don’t know the extent of the Hexcore’s influence; even a fraction of its power could be too great. And if it was fully unleashed, I fear the devastating effects it would have on you.” 

You flipped over, muscles tensing as you propped yourself up on an elbow and stared down at him with determined defiance. “And your death wouldn’t destroy me?”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t finished. “I will not lose you, and I know you want to live too.” 

“I don’t want you to get hurt on my behalf again.” He reached for your cheek, but you slapped his hand away, your lips pulled back and teeth barred in a feral snarl. 

“No,” you growled, your eyes alight with a fury that may not have been entirely your own. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me. You promised.” 

“Miláček—“

“You don’t get to call me that when you refuse to let me help, Viktor.” You pushed yourself up, your knees pressing into the floor. 

He propped himself up on his elbows, following you, eyes wide as he struggled to find the right words to say. “Please, lay back down, allow me to explain.”

“No!” you shouted, surprising even yourself. The word reverberated through the air like a thunderclap, a mix of anger and desperation making it sound distant and close all at once. The buzzing in your ears grew louder, drowning out any rational thoughts as a surge of rage pulsed through your body, pounding against your skull.

With a quick, fluid movement, you stood up from the ground, your hands balled into tight fists at your sides. In front of you, Viktor crouched low, his gaze level with yours. His hand extended towards you, palm open, as if trying to calm a wild creature. When had he gotten up?

And when had that scorch mark on the wall behind him gotten there? 

“Don’t leave me,” you pleaded, voice thick with tears and aching desperation. You felt like a child throwing a temper tantrum, unable to comprehend anything outside of the agony that swirled inside, left without a proper outlet to express it. “Please, I can’t go through that again.” 

“I know, lásko,” he soothed in a velvety whisper. His fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, pulling you closer to him as if wanting to protect you from the world. You followed, mesmerized by the rich timbre of his voice and the warmth of his touch.

“You wish to help, and I don’t want to deny you this, but as you worry for me, so do I for you.” 

That made sense, didn’t it? It was a fair assertion, one you could understand despite the buzzing in your mind. Sinking back to your knees, all but crumpling into Viktor’s embrace, you swallowed back the sob that threatened to escape, pushing it past the Hexcore’s presence that sat lodged in your throat. “I have to try.” 

“We may discuss this more in the morning, but I make no promises. You are too precious to me, miláčku, if we are to do this, it must be safe for you.” 

And you would make no promises either, for you could already feel your hold on the Hexcore had loosened ever so slightly - enough for its power to start leaking out of its cage, like wisps of smoke escaping through cracks in a jar.

“Okay,” you agreed for now, hazy even as you settled against him. “I’m sorry,” you added, “I didn’t mean to shout earlier, I was just suddenly…loud, like everything else in my head.”

He brushed a kiss against your forehead, soft and tender. The gentle pressure lingered, a wordless promise etched into your skin. You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation. His fingers threaded through your hair, cool against your scalp.

Viktor's lips moved against your skin, not quite forming words. You felt the working of his throat as if he was trying to speak but couldn't find the right thing to say. Instead, he poured all his unspoken feelings into that single, lingering kiss.

Next Chapter

A/N: Sooooo turns out I've been using the Czech term for darling wrong, and I thought I should probably fix that. Special thank you to @veru-boom for helping me write it properly!

Let me know what you think so far! How do you feel about losing your mind 😅

Its probably gonna be a few days before I am able to update again, but wanted to get a bit more out!

Little broǔcku Viktor ❤️

[leclercss]

Paris, je t'aime (Charles Leclerc), Part 3

Masterlist

plot: it's almost three years since your tumultuous relationships with Lewis and Charles came crashing down. but you find your self in a new city with new beginnings and new ways to fuck up your love life. that's no thanks to a cheeky frenchman who's set you up on a double date with someone oh so familiar.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating, violence and some swearing

authors note: part trois, enjoy. i have been awol, i'm sorry. i literally wrote this and accidentally deleted my draft. fml. this chapter is going to focus on Charles' perspective of the break up. it may explain a lot of his feelings, i hope you enjoy

word count: 5.2k

taglist: @toppersjeep @janeholt3, @princess-siba, @nichmeddar, @tremendousandsonorouswords, @cmleitora, @victoriaholland, @amalialeclerc, @queensofshinigamis, @tempo-rary-fix, @starmanv, @happylittlereader, @trouble-sistar, @lightdragonrayne, @persephonemv1, @dreamingofautopia

*Charles POV*

As the sun peaks through the curtains and hits my face, I find myself rolling over in bed. It's been three years since we've shared a bed, but it's almost instinct for arm to reach out to [Y/N] and for me to wrap around her body. Only this time, my arm finds itself falling onto the mattress.

Confused, I open my eyes to find that the space in the bed beside me is no longer occupied. She's no longer in the bed and all that Charles is left with is the scent of her perfume that has lingered onto the sheets and a small piece of paper with some writing.

I pick up the note in my hand, feeling dread that [Y/N] found yesterday all a little bit too much and she's decided that she doesn't want to see me any more.

’ I promise I’m not running away this time, I just think that we both deserve the chance for a clear head in the morning.

I’m so grateful that I got the chance to see you again.

Amour xxx ’

A small sense of reliefs courses its way through my body but I don't feel any better at the fact that she's no longer in the bed beside me. I don't want a clear head because how is that possible? Because as I fell asleep, last night, with [Y/N] in my arms, all I could think about is how much of the last three years of my life had been a lie. But it wasn't a lie, because the last time I saw her almost feels like yesterday, and I remember it so well.

*3 years ago*

“Lewis is moving to New York," [Y/N] blurts out.

"He's moving to New York?" I ask. My eyebrows furrow at her comment, it wasn't what I was expecting [Y/N] to say, after all I had just suggested that maybe we find our own place in the near future. But hey, if Lewis wants to move to another continent, this was even better in my eyes. Hell, I'd even be willing to drive him to the airport if it meant that he could get out of our lives quicker.

No more hidden moments, no more sneaking around. We could just be us. We're good together and sure, it's been an unconventional journey, but I know that [Y/N] is worth it.

I'm still staring down at [Y/N] as she looks up at me before nodding. I can't help but smile down at her and take her hand in mine. We've had many intimate moments together, but what we've just shared has felt the most raw yet.

Fuck, I wanted her to choke me, I've never felt this crazy in love with a woman before. I'd cut my heart open for her.

"That's good, right?"

I notice [Y/N] gulp before she answers, "He's moving in a few weeks".

I nod. That's not too bad. It's not ideal for her living situation but we can and will figure this out.

"Okay, well if you need somewhere to stay, you can always stay here. We'll figure it out, okay? We'll get somewhere of our own if you want? But the important thing is, we can be together".

'Charles..."

"What’s wrong, amour?"

I try to ignore the shiver that runs through by body, ignoring all the red flags being waves, as [Y/N] lets out a sigh before closing her eyes. Okay, maybe moving in together is a little bit too much to ask but shouldn't she be happier that she's finally ending her sham of a marriage?

I'm still looking down at [Y/N] as I'm trying to figure out what's going on her head. Her hand is still in mine but it's now limp, lifeless. I thought she would be happier than this but maybe the ending of her marriage is much more complex than I thought. Maybe she's actually going to miss this guy? Is she sad that it's ending? Surely not, right?

"I... I ... Lewis is going to New York and he wants me to go with him".

Silence falls between the two of us as I've tried to process what [Y/N] just told me. My ears begin to ring and I'm questioning if what I've heard is actually real.

"And you told him no, right?" I ask. I almost feel stupid asking her this because to me, the answer is so obvious. But a few moments have now passed and the longer that she lays there, her limp hand in mine, the more nervous I become. I notice her chest to begin rising and falling. Rising and falling. It's getting quicker by each second and I'm not so sure about anything any more.

She looks guilty and nervous. Why hasn't she answered me yet?

"Amour, you told him no, right?" Charles asks again, this time there's a desperate tone to my voice. "I mean, you're not wearing your rings?"

But there's nothing that is coming from [Y/N]'s mouth and I almost feel like I'm having an outer body experience. She's seriously going to go? After everything?

I think I'm going to throw up.

But I love her, how could she...

No fuck this. Fuck this entirely. Fuck him and you know what, fuck her!

She still hasn't had the balls to answer me, sitting there, looking all innocent and shell shocked. She's just let me make love to her, let me bare my soul and show her my most intimate desires only to tell me that she's not only ending things with me but she's moving. Moving to New York of all places and with him? The man who has not only attempted to humiliate me on many ocassions, but has humiliated her for years.

The longer I look at her, the more I feel my heart breaking but also, the angrier I become. How could she do this to me, to us?

She's probably seeing every expression on my face that I'm experiencing. I'm not trying to hide it. Anger, confusion, heartbreak, regret, despair. But she's not reacting to any of it.

Surely this is a joke or else I'm the fucking joke? How could I have been so stupid?

My brain can't keep up with my body because before I can even realise it, I throw myself out from under the duvet cover. A couple of her discarded clothes lay in a pool by my feet as I swing them out of the bed. Picking them up, I throw them towards her on the bed behind me.

She still says nothing.

"You've got some fucking nerve, you know that right?" I spit as I begin to charge around the room, finding any of her belongings that I can and throwing them in her direction.

"Excuse me?"

My head snaps around in the direction of the bed, almost instinctively, as I try not to laugh at the surprise in her voice. Our eyes make contact and she flinches at the anger so prominent on my face.

"You're kidding me, right?"

But she's not joking. No, she still has this innocent look on her face, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I don’t understand," she mutters.

I scoff as I continue to pace around the room, not being able to listen to this any more.

"I get it, [Y/N]," he growls. [Y/N] flinches at my tone, cowering further under the duvet. "You got your wish. You finally got your husband to notice that you exist and for him to pretend like he even cares about you. He's finally going to stop fucking other girls for you. Congratulations. I'm really happy for you."

"No, you've misunderstood," [Y/N] pleads but I dismiss her.

"You know, if you wanted me to just fuck you once as revenge for your husband, I would have been more than happy to. But this sick game you've played, making me fall in love with you. I don't know how you can look at yourself in the mirror," I continue, spit almost spraying out of my mouth from the anger.

I didn't even notice [Y/N] climb out of the bed until I feel her hand gently on my arm.

"Charles, it's not like that. I'm not," she begins but she stops once I pull my arm away from her.

"Get off me," I mumble but she ignores me. Her hand finds it's way onto my arm once again.

"Charles, listen to me," she squeals but it's no use, I have no capacity for her excuses or lies any more.

"I said get off me," I growl, this time a little louder and she takes the blatant hint but she won't stop talking.

"Charles, you've got it all wrong".

I turn around to face her as my eyes bore through her skin with nothing but anger and hatred. Venom is brewing inside of me as she looks up at me with tearful eyes. A couple have spilled over onto her cheeks. Looking at her like this, it breaks me. It fucking hurts but all I can think about is what she's put me through and I have to push my sympathy aside.

"No, [Y/N], the only thing I've gotten wrong is trusting you. You know what, you and Lewis are made for each other. Users, liars and cheaters, that's what you are".

I think I've gone too far. Shit, that was too far but as I watch her burst into tears and try to grab onto me, pleading with me to stop and that it's all a big mistake, I know I can't take it back now.

I don't want to do this what I do next, but I can't stop myself.

"My friends were right about you," it's the first time since she's broken the news that she's moving to New York where there hasn't been anger in my voice. I almost find myself wincing at the look on [Y/N]'s face as my words cut her deeply. I've hit an insecurity of hers. My friends never trusted her. How could I ever trust someone so open to cheating on their husband? They thought I was a moron. They'd always questioned her story, was this entire story of Lewis being a cheating asshole even real? Was it just her excuse for me to so willingly sleep with her?

Honestly, I don't know. I don't even know what's really any more.

She sniffles, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "You really think that, Charles?"

No, I don't.

"I think... I think you should leave".

It takes her a moment before she nods. Picking the clothes up from the bed, that I'd thrown at her, she begins to put them onto her body which is now trembling.

Part of me is telling me that I'm being stupid, that it's all a mistake. I can't bare to watch her get ready and leave, almost accepting defeat.

I take one last look at her before leaving my bedroom and making my way to the living room. I won't watch her walk out of that door, because if I do, I think I'll try to stop her.

As I wait on the sofa, staring at the wall opposite me, I feel like I can hear my heart breaking into pieces, one by one. And it's only when I heard the front door close, that they all finally shatter at once.

*Present Day*

I can't tell you how many times I had thought about this day over the last three years. At least once a day. No word of a lie. My final moments with [Y/N] infiltrated every part of my life. Every time I went to bed, I had thought about her and her betrayal. Almost every day that I woke up, I felt the weight on my chest from the memory of her tears on that very day. She even appeared in my dreams, where that day never happened and went on to live our happily ever after. And more often than that, she appeared in my nightmares.

My mind was constantly taunting me and it didn't help that my best friends kept reminding me of my many mistakes and my poor errors in judgement but worst of all, how shitty of a person they had thought [Y/N] was. And while I wanted to agree with them, deep down I felt like this all had to be a lie. Because after everything that we had gone through, surely she couldn't have been faking it.

But when one day, a few months later, when Joris came home from a date with Whitney, he almost couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He had news to share.

"You don't have to worry about her any more," he told me, "she's gone now."

I tried to ignore the pain that I felt in my chest. I couldn't show Joris any more how badly this affected me. He'd been going ballistic at me for weeks already. "She moved then?"

"Yeah, Whitney said she went last Friday," Joris could hardly contain his happiness. "It's about time. Now you can move on and forget about her."

I nod as if I'm I'm agreeing with the idea of moving on. And I try, but it's just not enough because everything in London reminds me of her. I feel suffocated here and so I spend a few weeks back home in Monaco, but my mother senses that something is wrong and wants to get to the bottom of my moodiness and so I decide that maybe being back in Monaco won't give me the peace that I need right now.

But then, out of the blue, an old childhood friend on mine, Pierre, messages to say he'll be in Monaco that weekend and we meet up. Pierre felt like a guardian angel at the time, not that I would ever tell him that, but spending a weekend in Monaco with him felt refreshing to spend some time with someone who wasn't his family, wasn't his friends back in London or anyone who had some sort of connection to [Y/N].

And after not seeing each other for years, Pierre and I kept in touch, which ultimately led me to move to Paris. I thought it would help you know, make me forget about her.

In some ways it helped, I no longer had nightmares about her. I still often fell asleep to the thought of her, and I still woke up thinking about her. My chest began to feel less heavy as time passed. And it almost began to feel like she wasn't real any more because she was no longer in the same country or even on the same continent.

She was gone, and she was never coming back to me.

The only time she had ever felt real was when I was sleeping with other girls. I went on some kind of sex rampage when I moved to Paris, finding any girl possible to occupy my mind and body with but clearly it wasn't working. As I fucked them, I sometimes imagined that they were her, and that it was her that was in my arms again, it was her that was trembling and moaning beneath me. But it wasn't her, it was never her.

Until now.

I've never really believed in fate, but I'm finally starting to believe that it's a funny thing. I will never forget the feeling I had felt when Pierre had shown me her picture. Out of all the three billion women in the world, he'd set me up with my ex, if I could even call her that.

And it felt like my time had come, for redemption, for revenge and for some answers. Because now, after all this time, she's real again. She's in Paris and she's here. It was time.

But now, after last night, I'm beginning to question everything, because every part of my life for the last three years has been a total lie.

[Y/N] had never betrayed me and I don't know how to feel about it all.

My running thoughts are interrupted by my phone pinging on the beside table. I take a moment to stretch out before rolling over to see the message that's on my phone.

"So did you fuck or not?'

I can't help but laugh at Pierre's message.

"Morning to you too"

"Morning, did you fuck or not?'

'I don't kiss and tell, Pierre".

'Liar! So you fucked then. Congratulations'

Before I can even respond, Pierre texts again.

'Jokes aside, what do you think? Do you want to see her again?'

[bts-0t-7]

Sharing The Moment | MYG

Pair: Yoongi x reader 

Summary: You and your son went to D-Day 3 to support Yoongi. Your son stole the show after appearing on stage and ARMY was absolutely… swooned. 

Genre: fluff, established relationship, parents au, married au

WC: 1169

Before the both of you stepped into the stadium, you could feel the ground vibrating from all the fan’s anticipation. The arena felt alive before the real show even started. It was the last day of Yoongi’s D-Day tour in Seoul and all the fans were there early. Whether is it giving out fanmade gifts, food, or drinks, they - Is that a tangerine in her hand? And is that a whole bag of it?!

The atmosphere was electric but for you, today was something even more special. You were not only here as a fan but also as Yoongi’s family. While ARMY’s certainly had eagle eyes, they have yet to catch on that you weren’t the only surprise that day. Your son, Min Ji-Hye, a carbon copy of his dad, was the source of the surprise. His little body was buzzing with energy. 

Since young, Ji-Hye has looked up to his father’s music and absolutely idolizes him. Every time Yoongi works from home or comes home with new music, Ji-Hye would demand listening to it even if it is the rawest version. Of course, Yoongi tries to keep the cursing to a minimum whenever Ji-Hye is around. 

The both of you found your seats in the middle catalogs which the staff has reserved especially for the both of you. Ensuring that Ji-Hye wouldn’t fall off his bumper seat, you started to set the area for the both of you so that you wouldn’t miss a single second to find some water. You were so engrossed in ensuring that your son had everything he needed that you didn’t realise Jin and Hobi were standing right next to you. 

You jumped when you felt a light tap on your shoulder, immediately turning around with large eyes, hoping that you wouldn’t cause trouble for your husband if you got mobbed or something during his concert. But you found two laughing figures and calmed down once you heard Jin’s signature laugh. 

“Yah, don’t scare me like that!” You chided.

“It was you who weren’t paying attention! We were here the whole time!”

You were about to shoot back another snarky remark when - “Seoul, ARE YOU READY?” 

Cheers from all directions engulfed you as fireworks lit up the stage. Yoongi came blasting from the backstage and no matter how many times you have been to BTS concerts, you never get tired of seeing them perform. The raw passion in their movements and voices always ensures that the audience has one of the best concerts. 

You turned over to see Ji-Hye at the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the stage. You had dressed him in Yoongi’s stage outfit, complete with a cap that looked a few sizes too big (it was taken from Yoongi’s closet). With his cat-like eyes and gummy smile, he was essentially Yoongi 2.0. 

Watching your son sing and jump to the lyrics of his father, your lips curled upwards in a loving smile. While he didn’t quite understand the depth and innuendos of the songs, he was enjoying himself and you knew how much this concert meant to him. With the news of Yoongi’s enlistment, you knew that your time together would be cut short for two years. 

You had told him that telling ARMY a day after the concert wasn’t going to be the best decision but management pulled through so it was scheduled as it is. So both of you continued to enjoy the concert with the new addition of Uncle Namjoon. 

As the music filled the stadium, Yoongi delivered an electrifying performance, pouring his heart and soul into every lyric. His presence on stage was magnetic and the fans were completely enthralled. You thought that you could hold back the tears as he broke down in front of all his fans but the tears streamed down your cheeks, staining them in a salty caress. 

Amidst the sea of fans, Ji-Hye suddenly squirmed and wriggled his way past the people in front of him. Running down the steps, you tried to catch him when Namjoon suddenly grabbed your wrist. “He’s safe, don’t worry. There are guards everywhere.”

But you couldn’t help but worry. What if he got lost? What if fans start to swarm around him and he can’t make it to Yoongi or any of the guards in time? Your heart skipped a beat as you saw his little figure making his way up the stage. There was a collective gasp from the fans nearby as they realised what was happening. 

The surrounding security personnel recognised him and allowed him to approach the stage, guiding him carefully so that he didn’t fall down the large steps. Yoongi had just finished a ‘Life Goes On’ and was taking a moment to catch his breath when he saw little feet running up towards him. His eyes widened and broke out into a huge grin when he saw him, squatting down to his level and spreading his arms. The fans, realising that he was Yoongi’s son, started to cheer even louder. 

The moment Ji-Hye crashed into Yoongi, every ounce of fear that Ji-Hye would be afraid of the cheers washed away in that instance. Yoongi scooped him up, hugging him tightly as your son laughed into the microphone, causing another wave of cheers to vibrate the stadium. It was a moment of pure, unscripted love between a father and his son. You stared at the two most important people in your life on stage, celebrating as if they were the only ones in the world. 

The fans were absolutely swooning - taking in this whole scene with hearty eyes and red faces - their hearts melted by the sheer adorableness of the scene. They watched as Ji-Hye whispered something into Yoongi’s ear and Yoongi’s eyes sparkled with amusement and affection. 

Yoongi turned to the fans, holding Ji-Hye high above his head like the scene from Lion King. “This is my son, Min Ji-Hye.” He announced proudly. “He’s a little ARMY like all of you.”

The fans erupted into cheers, shouting their love for both Yoongi and his son. Ji-Hye waved at the crowd, his gummy smile wide, grinning from ear to ear. Your heart felt so big that it was going to explode. 

As the concert continued, Yoongi held Ji-Hye in his arms, dancing with him on stage during a couple of songs. It was a moment of pure joy and it was clear that this concert had become something extraordinary - not just for the fans but for Yoongi and your family. 

After the concert, Yoongi was still beaming with light as he continued to hold Ji-Hye in his arms. “You know, you stole the show today.” He chuckled to his son.  

Ji-Hye looked up at his father, eyes shining with admiration. “Daddy!” He swung his little legs. “I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

Yoongi’s heart swelled with love. “You can be anything you want. Just remember to always be yourself.”

[perfectsunlight]

[27] BONUS ⸻ #3

warnings: cursing, mentions of abandoned father, substance use (jennie is drunk)

jieun rubbed her temples as she listened to the second hand of the clock tick away. it was nearly 4 in the morning, and jennie was still not home. ivory had been crying almost the whole night, and she was exhausted. she had tried everything—feeding her, rocking her, singing to her—but nothing worked. the baby missed her mother. jieun sighed, glancing at her phone once again, hoping for a message or call from jennie. nothing.

just as she was about to call her daughter once again that night, the front door creaked open. the new idol stumbled, laughing to herself as soon as she saw jieun sitting with her arms folded. she shut the door promptly, giving her mother a small nod and chuckle before she slumped against the wall. even from across the living room, jieun could smell the cigarettes and liquor that clung to her daughter’s clothes.

“it’s 4 am, jennie.” the idol rolled her eyes and shrugged, scoffing in disbelief. “you don’t say?” jieun's patience was wearing thin, her voice taking on an edge of frustration. “this is the fourth time this week, jennie. the baby has been crying all night, and i’m the one who had to deal with it. where were you? you said you’d be home by 6.”

“i don’t hear anything now.” jennie let out a sharp breath, pushing herself off the wall, her movements unsteady as she tried to walk toward the kitchen. "i needed a break, mom. i’m not even 22 yet, and i’ve been dealing with this—with everything." her words slurred as she stumbled over her explanation, reaching for a glass of water.

the older woman’s jaw tightened as she watched her daughter, her frustration only deepening. “that’s because i finally got her to sleep after hours of crying.” her voice wavered slightly, both from exhaustion and anger. “you weren’t here. you didn’t see how she wouldn’t calm down.”

jennie rolled her eyes, her movements slow and deliberate as she filled the glass and took a long sip. “i’m here now, aren’t i?” she trailed off, her eyes hardening as she leaned against the counter.

“she’s a baby, jennie.”

for some reason, the mention of her daughter’s innocent age caused her temper to flare again, the alcohol in her system making her defenses rise faster. “i’m doing my fucking best! i didn’t ask to be a fucking mother.” she slammed the glass onto the counter, water splashing over the edge.

“you might not have asked for it, but that doesn’t change the fact that ivory is your responsibility,” jieun snapped, her tone sharp and pointed. she rose from her seated position, following jennie into the kitchen. 

“you don’t get to run away from that just because it’s hard. she needs you, jennie. she needs her mother–”

“i need to live, mom!” jennie shouted, her voice raw with frustration. her face flushed with anger, her chest heaving as she glared at her mother. “i can’t just give up everything because i had a kid! i’m still young, i’m still trying to figure out who i am, and now you expect me to just be stuck here forever?”

the older woman’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence between them—just the sound of jennie’s ragged breathing and the ticking clock in the background. and for some reason, her mother’s silence was terrifying enough to make the blood in her veins run cold.

“stuck here?” the older woman repeated softly, her voice dangerously calm. even while intoxicated, there was nothing more sober-inducing than her mother. “is that what you think being a mother is? being stuck?”

jennie’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden tone in her mother’s voice, but she was still too far gone to back down. “i didn’t ask for this. i didn’t want any of this. you think i wanted to throw my life away for a baby?”

her mother took a step closer, her eyes narrowed and a finger pointed straight into jennie’s chest. “that baby is your daughter,” she echoed, her voice shaking with barely contained anger. “jane didn’t ask to be born, but she’s here, and she’s your responsibility now.”

“fuck that,” the idol shouted, throwing her hands up in defense. “i’m not built for this. i don’t need this extra pressure, it’s too much already–”

“jennie kim,” jieun cut her off, her voice harsh and a warning to not cross a certain line. "you don’t understand. you don’t understand what it means to be a parent, to put someone else’s needs before your own. she needs you. she loves you. and i know you can’t sit here and tell me you don’t love her, too.”

"i’m trying!" jennie screamed, her fists clenched at her sides, her body shaking. "i’m trying to survive! do you have any idea how hard this is? how fucking suffocating it is? everyone wants something from me—my career, my friends, the media. and now, jane too?”

the tension in the room crackled with raw emotion, and for a moment, both women stood there, breathing heavily. there were not many times in jennie kim’s life where she argued with her mother. however, this was definitely one of the biggest ones they’ve had. “you sound like your father.” jieun shot back, her voice laced with hurt. the words hung in the air, heavy and sharp, cutting through jennie like a knife. jennie's heart plummeted at the mention of her father, memories flooding her mind—memories of abandonment, of feeling like she wasn't worth sticking around for. 

the thought of being anything like him sent a wave of nausea through her. she had sworn to herself that she would never be like him, that she would never walk away from her responsibilities, no matter how hard they became.

jennie's breathing quickened, the reality of her mother’s words crashing over her like a wave. she couldn’t let that happen. she couldn’t let history repeat itself. the thought of abandoning her daughter, of becoming the very thing she despised most, ignited a fire inside her. it was enough to practically turn her sober in that instant.

suddenly, a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. the realization struck her like a lightning bolt: she was already losing precious moments with ivory, moments she could never get back. the image of her father’s cold indifference flashed in her mind, a reminder of the pain it caused her mother and herself.

“no,” jennie whispered, shaking her head as if to dispel the memories. “i won’t do that to her.”

with a newfound determination, she turned sharply on her heel, her heart racing as she hurried down the hallway. each step felt heavier with purpose as she rushed toward her daughter’s room, the soft sounds of her whimpers echoing in her ears.

the small girl stirred, her little face scrunched up, the faint sounds of her distress pulling at jennie's heart. as jennie approached the crib, the soft light illuminated ivory’s delicate features. her skin was a smooth, creamy hue, and her dark hair, a cascade of soft waves framed her round face like a halo. those tiny features were undeniably jennie's, a reflection of her own dna in another human being.

but it was her eyes that always captured jennie the most. 

they were a striking shade of brown, deep and rich, with flecks of gold that seemed to sparkle even in the dim light. they held a mixture of innocence and wisdom, as if her little girl was already understanding more than she let on. 

as she reached down to lift her daughter from the crib, the idol marveled at the way this tiny human fit perfectly in her arms. wrapped in a soft, pastel-colored onesie, the little girl’s tiny fingers instinctively curled around jennie's thumb. a soft, pink blanket lay crumpled in the crib, and as jennie gently settled her daughter against her chest, she could feel ivory's heartbeat calming.

“hey, it’s okay, mommy’s here,” she cooed softly, brushing her fingers through the little girl’s hair. jane’s whimpers faded into soft breaths as she nestled closer, her eyelids fluttering as she instinctively sought the comfort of her mother’s embrace. in that moment, the chaos of the previous argument felt worlds away. 

all that mattered was this precious girl, this beautiful child who was the embodiment of love and hope.

with her round cheeks and the way her lips formed a perfect little pout when she slept, jane ivory kim was truly the light of her mother’s life. 

even though jennie didn’t understand it, she felt as if her ivory held a piece of her soul.

gazing down at her daughter, who was blissfully unaware of the complexities of adult life, jennie whispered promises to herself. “i’ll do better. i’ll be better,” she murmured, her heart swelling with determination. the fight in her earlier conversation with her mother felt trivial now, overshadowed by the immense love she felt for this little girl.

in this quiet moment, jennie reflected on her own childhood—memories of laughter, warmth, and love. she wanted to recreate those moments for ivory, to fill her life with joy and safety. it wouldn’t be easy, but holding her daughter like this made jennie realize she was capable of so much more than she had allowed herself to believe.

as jane stirred slightly, her tiny hand clasping onto jennie’s shirt, gripping it in a vice-like grip. it was almost as if it was a silent warning for jennie to not leave her again. the idol couldn't help but chuckle softly. “you’re a handful already, aren’t you?” she teased gently, though her heart brimmed with affection. she whispered softly against ivory’s cheek. 

“i’m not going anywhere now. i promise.”

the infant seemed to respond to her voice, her little face relaxing even further as she sunk deeper into her mother's embrace. she wouldn’t be like her father, she refused to accept such a fate. there were two men in the world that had shaped her perception of what it meant to be a parent: her father, who had abandoned her and her mother when she needed him the most, and now, the man who was half responsible for jane.

jennie understood that she had a choice—she could either mirror the abandonment she had experienced or break the cycle. but she knew she’d rather give up her own life than let her daughter ever feel an ounce of abandonment from either of them, or even herself for that matter.

and perhaps for the first time since giving birth, jennie finally understood the weight of her responsibilities. she understood that being a mother wasn’t being perfect, or even being anything close to that. all she had to be was here, with the most precious soul in existence. the idol realized she wasn’t just given responsibilities; she had been given a gift — ivory.

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CLOSED.

[honeytama]

Nocturne

Merman!Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you love Merman!Noah as much as I do. If you knew me on here during quarantine, guess what? I'm back to writing about men with two dicks! ...sigh

Summary: Okinawa Island is just south of mainland Japan and it's where you're spending the few days of your vacation away from reality. You're on the search for fun, excitement, newness, and love. It so happens that someone else is, too.

Content and Warnings: Fluff, comfort, alcohol/intoxication, injury/blood, smut 18+, merman!noah has two phalluses, oral (receiving), raw pnv

Word Count: 12k

Tags: @somebodyels3 @yarasdead @raspberrywatermelon @gh0stfacegf @shilohrosechicken

@thefallennightmare @lma1986

Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka were beautiful places you spent the past week in, but Okinawa, an island just south of the mainland of Japan, will be your home for the next few days as your one-woman vacation is nearly to its end. Okinawa’s horizon is gorgeous; all the eye can see of crisp, blue waters and green cliff sides. Excitement buzzes through you as you approach the beachside condo in the driver's seat of the rental car from the Naha Airport. 

Last week, you spent all your time in different hotels while traveling to different parts of the country, only staying a day or two at a time in a new bed, but this time, you splurged to stay in an Airbnb on the island's coast. You figured that after spending a lot of time being a tourist on the mainland and being safe with your decisions, you could have a chance to be more relaxed before you had to return home— and return to work. You feel more confident after spending a week in the larger cities; you’re able to speak the little Japanese you know and English, you have found all the foods you like and how to order them, and navigating yourself was becoming easier. This place could become a second home, you think.

Walking through the front door of the condo, you’re able to see right through past the kitchen and living room to the back of the house’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Your backyard is the ocean. However, the building was built on a cliff, so you would have to find a more safe way to reach the soft sands that call you below.

It’s morning, so you figure it’s time to find your favorite Japanese breakfast items and spend the day exploring. On the itinerary, especially, is to figure out how to get down to the beach. 

—

You spent the day eating a few meals around town. You decided not to take the car out, so you walked for the majority of the day finding things to do.

Looking for entertainment for the beach, you found a comfortable bookstore and walked around for an hour scouring for something to read. They had everything you could need in different Japanese writing systems and also plenty of options in English. You found a couple of romance novels, both spicy and sweet love stories, that would help amuse you as you lie on the sands tomorrow. 

Love was the reason you were in Japan, to begin with. Besides always wanting to be in the country, you desperately needed time off from reality. You felt stuck while at home, but you have found, and hope to find more of, fun, excitement, and newness. However, love is something you’re still reaching for—in more ways than one. Before arriving in Japan, you had hoped that some beautiful man would come to sweep you off your feet and take you away from everything you’re hiding from. This just hasn't come true just yet.

While you were perusing at the bookstore earlier in the day, another tourist was speaking to the cashier about some rumors while you peeked at them from behind a shelf. Their conversation made your ears perk up.

“Ningyo,” the woman cashier repeated.

“Ningyo? What did you say that was?” The tourist opened Google on their phone looking for more information, intrigued.

“A mermaid— well ours is a merman,” the cashier corrects herself. “The word directly translates to ‘fish-person’. It’s what me and my sisters have been talking about around town with others for the past few years,” she explained. “We think he’s out there still; we can hear him sing at night. Can’t you?”

“Wow, uhm, I’m staying at a hotel further away from the coast, so no, I haven't heard anything. But, that’s amazing!” The tourist exclaimed. “Do you know what a siren is? Do you think he’s dangerous?”

The cashier giggled and gave the tourist their receipt. “There have not been any reports of people going missing or being injured, so I assume our mystery merman is safe,” she shrugs. “I’ve never seen him, to be frank, all of this is just rumors— a legend. But, you should go out to the beach at night to hear his voice. You won't be disappointed.”

You laugh to yourself about their conversation on your hike back to the condo during this late afternoon. A mermaid? Merman? Please. There is probably some wannabe boyband guy in the neighborhood who likes to practice his music on the beach at night. 

You are surprised that it has been going on for so long though. Wouldn't this guy want others to know that it’s him? That he’s the guy with the amazing voice everyone in town is talking about? You think to yourself.

On your way back to your temporary home, you stumble across a part of the town that’s less busy than the rest. You imagine you had taken the wrong way back, but you swear you’re great at navigating yourself now. There’s no way you could have made a mistake while you're holding Google Maps open on your phone watching every step and counting the minutes it takes before you get back to the door of the Airbnb.

Nevertheless, you’re not lost, just somewhere you didn't expect. With no one around to help, you take a step off of the road to walk over to the railed cliff’s edge to regain your surroundings and reroute toward the correct direction.

Looking over the railing, you admire the teal waters crashing against a group of large slate rocks along the beach that form seafoam that sizzles along the sand. You notice the cliff is quite steep and wraps around a small portion of the beach below you. The edges of it are lined with moss and fern-covered rock walls and green, lively trees for shade. It’s a cove; a private one. The sands look so smooth and on a perfect, warm, sunny day like this, you were sure it should have been packed. You spot a trail that leads down to it when you look up to your right. You found your way down to the beach, you think.

—

The next morning you awake and walk around your apartment eating onigiri. You pack up all your favorite beach essentials, excluding an umbrella, because you hoped the tall trees you spotted at the cove would be enough to protect you. While packing, you hum a tune to yourself, and taking a slow bite from your food you realize you have never heard the song before. You must have made it up in your sleep, you think.

You had pinned the location of the cove in your phone and followed directions back to where you were yesterday afternoon, hoping not to get lost again. 

Once on the familiar cliff again, you take the trail and snake yourself down to the bottom, carefully, which leads you out into your own, personal paradise. A private cove for you to spend the next few days relaxing in.

You make haste to set up everything and to start enjoying your books. A wide beach towel is laid out onto the soft, pale sands. You feel the sand between your toes and fingers; it’s perfect. You set up your Bluetooth speaker and roll up an extra beach towel to use as a pillow. Lying back with your sunglasses on and in your favorite swimsuit, the trees cover just enough to where the sun can leak through and tan your body, but not enough to where you are blinded as you open your first book.

You relax for a couple of hours reading your story and listening to music. You’re relieved you brought water and snacks, too, unbelieving you would get this comfortable. As you turn your music down to change it over to a podcast while you eat, you hear a loud splash come from the water before you. 

Looking up quickly, having been startled by the noise, you spot a large, dark tailfin ducking back under the water behind one of the large, pointed rocks.

“Oh, shit,” the sight makes you sit up on your towel. You pull your sunglasses off hoping to catch a good look at the fin if the animal were to return to the surface. “That thing was huge,” you whisper to yourself. Although you have become familiar with a lot while on your vacation, this was the first time you have been close to Japanese waters, so you have no clue about the types of fish or other things that could be lurking in the shallows. 

On your way out of the cove, you take one last peak at the water. It’s almost still with just the tide coming in to layer over the sand, but you could have sworn you could feel someone’s eyes watching you the entire time and not from the top of the cliff. You feel it coming from the direction of the ocean.

—

“I need to hear it, too,” you thought drunkenly as your feet dragged you back to the cove’s entrance.

Earlier in the night, you thought to indulge yourself in a night of drinks, mingling, and dancing. You went out to a couple of bars in town in a white, frilled spaghetti strap dress that hits you mid-thigh and a pair of platform, strappy sandals. You danced freely with some sweet groups of women you found at each bar; your hands caressed your own curves and you moved your hips to the beat around you. Your spirit caught the eye of many different men, from all backgrounds, who were hitting on you throughout the night and feeding you drinks constantly.

It felt good. Their attention is what you wanted, and you flirted with them back; making small conversations and touching their biceps and shoulders to show you’re interested. Maybe one of them could be the one? You thought. I can find love here. However, too many drinks being pushed your way eventually turned you off to them and they were turned off by how you stumbled out of the bar to walk home.

Walking back to the condo, you come across the same road you were lost on. You look over the railing above your private cove and the waters are dark; they crash against the sands and boulders off to the side of the beach.

“I wanna swim,” you speak aloud. “No, that’s dangerous,” you shake your head. “I’ll just— stand in the water. Feel nice,” you mumble.

You think about the woman who you overheard speak at the bookstore. The ningyo. His alluring voice that sings through the night.

“That’s not real,” you giggle to yourself. “Well, I could prove it her wrong. I just need to see if I can hear him. Need to hear him,” you repeat as your sandals pull you away from the rail.

You stumble over to the cove’s trail entrance and carefully make your way down to the sands, just as you did this morning.

Once below, you undo your sandals from your feet and take your purse to throw them all into a pile of sand. You make your way to the edge of the water and step in the deep blue inch by inch until you can no longer see your ankles. 

“Sing, please,” you wave your arms at the water like it will talk back to you. You start to hum the song that riddled your brain when you awoke in the morning while kicking the water up with your feet. “Ningyo, if you dont start singing right now then I’m leaving,” you yell out to the obscured horizon. 

The ocean stays silent. 

“Fine.”

You take a few steps back toward the shore, but the high tide is so heavy on your legs that it’s difficult to move in the direction you would like. You end up moving at a diagonal towards the jagged rocks that you feared; salt water splashes against them violently. You stick your hands out to brace yourself, but a large tidal wave knocks you off your feet and your head finds the rocks first.

You yelp before falling into the water. Your face is fully submerged as you look up at the moon through the salt water in your eyes. Watching your eyelids close slowly, everything fades to black.

NOAH’S POV

Where’d she go? I think to myself with heavy concern.

I’ve been looking after this girl for the past day and never once did I expect her to be injured while on my watch. I was amused at how she called out to me and I feel ashamed for watching her stumble into the rocks after leaving because I wouldn’t sing. I should have just indulged her instead of teasing her. If I did, then maybe she wouldn’t be lost under the waves. 

I swim towards the rocks with purpose and see her floating there face up. She looks limp.

“Please be alive,” I whisper as I take her body into my arms. I hold my ear to her chest for the sound of her heartbeat and it thumps in my head. Relieved, I allow myself to take a deep breath of air and allow my own heart rate to die down. I swim the best I can through the shallow water with her in my arms until we reach the shore.

I lay her down on the sand and fix her dress so that she’s fully covered. The huge gash in her forehead makes me wince and deep, red blood seeps out of it unhindered.

As her lips begin to turn blue, I realize I need to work faster. I raise my right hand over her lips and twist my fingers as if I’m going to pull a rope from between them. Instead, a stream of saltwater is pulled from out of her lungs and through her open mouth until it forms a sphere above her head. I flick my hand to the side and the water bubble splashes into the sand around us. The tingle from my magic use covers my arms and shoulders in goosebumps.

I need to see her chest rise and fall again. She needs air, I think. Raising myself over her, I pinch her nose with my fingers and bring my mouth to hers. I push the thoughts about her soft lips pressing to mine and blow air into her chest. It rises against mine as her lungs fill up, so I continue to suck in air and blow into her mouth and when she begins to cough, I know to pull back. 

The girl lies there still, unconscious. My hand brings itself to cover the gash on her head in full and I put in energy to allow my magic to flow into her, to heal her. The stream of her blood stops, and I can feel her skin closing under my palm.

My head falls in relief that she’ll be okay and my wet bangs tickle her cheek.

Uncovering her head, there’s just a faint scar above her eye that will fade even more, over time. I roll over to the side and lie on my back next to her. I can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen, even with her hair tousled, clothes soaked, and eyes softly closed. Well, maybe those things make her even more appealing.

I’ve been close to very few humans in my life, but I swear she’s the only one that has ever truly intrigued me like this. 

I have wanted to know her since she stepped foot into my cove this morning. I think she’s already seen my tail, but I want her to know all of me, too.

“I’ll meet you in the morning,” I whisper.

—

READER

You sit up with a gasp.

“Ah, shit,” you mumble and shade your eyes from the sun rising over the horizon. 

While adjusting your eyes to the brightening blue sky and reflective teal waters, you notice an array of colors lying on the sand in your peripheral. Artwork? Your eyes fully adjust and the sight of a Japanese traditionally tattooed arm moves next to your thighs. 

“Oh, my God!” You yelp and push yourself further back on the sand with your hands and feet. You look down and see the same white dress you wore out to the bars last night. What happened? You think.

Looking up slowly, you see that there wasn't just a severed, tattooed arm mere inches from your body, but a whole man. A man with a tail.

The ningyo, you think. The merman is on the beach with me.

You cover your mouth with the thought that it will muffle your quick, anxious breathing; you didn't want him to know you were awake for many reasons, but mainly you were curious about him and needed time to examine his form.

Crawling on your knees toward him, you notice not just his arm is tattooed, but his entire human-like skin. His neck, torso, arms, and you assume his back, too are covered in Japanese traditional tattoos. The artwork of koi fish, waves, scales, and clouds all meld together in black, gray, and vibrant accent colors throughout his body. How does he have tattoos? You wonder.

It’s saddening that you can see his face; he has his forearm thrown over it. You assume it’s to shield from the sun’s rays as he sleeps soundly. The outside of his forearms have dark, feather-like fins. They look so soft; you want to reach out and touch them. His hair is short with bangs that shape his temples from what you can see. His wrist and neck are adorned with jewelry made from stringed, tiny pearlescent shells. Looking around his chest and sides, you see no gills.

Trailing your eyes further down, his tail begins a few inches under his navel and it’s the most brilliant thing you’ve ever seen. His tail is long and it's halfway in the saltwater; you assume if he were standing he would be over six feet tall. The majority of his scales are slate, almost black, and would probably look like obsidian underwater. They have a shimmering shift under the light of the sun that makes them look wet, even when dry. These same scales go all the way down to his tailfin and the ends of his tailfin feather out just like his forearm fins. However, along his hip, he has a strip of pearl-colored scales that run down the length of his tail. You assume he has the same strip on his other hip, as well.

Overall, you are aware of your heart pounding in your chest. The cashier from the bookstore was right… There is a merman living in the waters of Okinawa. He’s gorgeous, too.

“Ah,” you hiss as you sit on your heels next to him. You feel a raging, throbbing pain in your head. Feeling over your forehead, there’s a light ridge under your fingertips in the form of a scar. Looking down at the man, you think that he must know why you’re at the cove this early in the morning in the clothes you wore the night before. Taking a deep breath, you tap his shoulder, curiously, hoping to wake him. “Ningyo.”

He stirs awake and removes his arm from his eyes. You watch him slowly sitting up on his elbows. “Hmm,” he groans while squinting to adjust his eyes to the morning.

“H—Hi,” you speak up and wave at him to get his attention. 

The merman twists his head towards your direction and your eyes meet. Beautiful maple eyes widen at yours. “Oh,” he says, blinking as if to check if you’re real. “Hi… You're awake.”

“Mhm,” you hum and fiddle with the end of your dress. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Y/N.”

“I’m Noah,” he extends his hand for you to shake. You reach out to him and his hand engulfs yours. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss into the back of your hand. Must be a tradition for him, you think, blushing.

He smiles at you in awe with his teeth. You notice one of his lower canines is covered with a shiny, pearlized coating and it gleams at you sultrily. 

“Could you tell me why I’m here, please?” You feel comfortable, but your voice speaks nervously. Your fingers come back to your head as the pain pulses beneath your skin.

He looks out onto the horizon and his tail moves under the water as he thinks. “You came here by yourself last night. I think you might have been intoxicated,” he explains. You feel heat rush over your cheeks in embarrassment. “I watched you fall into the rocks over there,” he nods across the beach to your right. “You got a bad head wound and you drowned.”

“I drowned?” You ask incredulously while holding your chest.

“It’s ok. I pulled you out of the water and brought you here,” he motions his hand from the rocks to where you are now and his forearm fins fan out. “I hope you don’t mind— I had to use some magic on you or I might have lost you,” he says. “I spent the night looking after you to make sure you were okay.”

“Thank you,” you nod at him with a grateful smile. He does nothing to hide himself, and you realize he must have stayed overnight with you to see you in the morning. The thought of him watching over you makes you flush.

“Also—,” Noah’s face turns pink and he looks away from you with a smile. “I had to resuscitate you. It’s called mouth-to-mouth, right?” 

Oh. You feel your hands turn clammy, so you rub them on the front of your dress. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m sorry, by the way.”

Noah flips over to his side and rests his cheek in his hand. His tail follows suit and his movement flows the water toward you in a small wave that pools at your knees. He looks at you concerned with furrowed brows. “Why would you say you’re sorry?”

“Well, for one, you shouldn’t have had to go through so much trouble to save my life last night. I was being stupid. I don’t know why I came here,” you talk towards the blue horizon. “Second, you were right. I was drinking. I’m sorry that you might have tasted it on…” you bring a hand to motion towards your lips. “Or that you had to put your mouth on mine, at all,” you turn and laugh at him half-heartedly, but his face looks even more confused than before.

“Don’t apologize,” Noah says assertively. “I needed to save your life. You needed help and I was here to do that. Also, don’t be embarrassed about your actions… You looked cute yelling at me to sing to you.”

Yelling at him to sing to you? What was I thinking? You think. “I don’t know how to thank you,” you smile and shrug your shoulders.

Almost immediately, he replies, “Spend the day with me.”

“What? You don’t even know me,” you giggle. “Also, what do you mean? You want me to sit here on the beach with you until the evening comes around again?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I want to know you,” Noah says matter-of-factly. “We could do that, but I don’t like staying on land for more than half the day. I was thinking we could hang out in the water?” He nods towards the ocean.

“Ok, yeah, we can go swimming,” you nod. “I don't think I’ll be able to go too far though.”

“I have something in mind that can help,” he says with a smirk. “If you would feel more comfortable, then go home and change into your swimming gear and meet back here in an hour… It’s a date.”

A date? You’re going on a date with a merman after just meeting him? Out of all of the men you have met on your trip, he’s the only one who’s made the move for something romantic. And, your swimming gear? Ha! More like one of the skimpy swimsuits you had brought on your trip, you think.

“Okay,” you stand up to your feet and Noah looks up at you with his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. “I’ll be back soon,” you begin to walk towards the sand pile you threw your things onto the night before, before turning back to him. “Don’t you dare disappear on me, Noah.”

He laughs and pushes himself further into the water; his biceps flex under the weight of himself, “I wouldn't dream of it.”

You pick up your bag and sandals and watch Noah dive further into the water. The splash of his dark tail leaves a spray of sparking droplets in the dawn sun.

—

It’s still morning time, but you have returned to the cove having eaten breakfast with your beach bag sitting in the sand. You changed into your favorite swimsuit, which in your opinion seems just fine for a date and swim session with a merman. No big deal. 

While at the condo, you quickly paced around trying to change your clothes and locate everything you needed while simultaneously forming a hundred questions about Noah. All the while, having to deal with a racing heart and jitters as the merman you met less than two hours ago asked you out on a date— rather he declared it a date. That’s so much hotter, you think. Calming yourself, you thought that today would be the best opportunity to ask him everything that you wanted to know. 

How does he have so many tattoos? Did tattoo guns work underwater?

The most pressing question on your mind is asking him about his song. It must be the one you keep hearing in your dreams.

You see Noah’s head rise over the water in front of you and he stops ten feet away from the shore. “You came!”

“Noah!” Leaving your things behind, you walk into the water and slowly adjust to the new temperature. You make your way to him, having to step off of the coast’s shelf. You swim in place in front of Noah while the seafloor is probably over twelve feet beneath you at this point. “I’m not that confident that I’ll be able to keep up with you,” you admit.

“I told you I had a trick to help you out, didn’t I?” Noah reaches out towards your neck and caresses the soft skin. It tingles underneath his touch. He then brings his hand to the side of your face and his thumb pad rubs over your bottom lip.

Is he about to kiss—? Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel a tight sensation in your throat. “Noah, what are you—,” you croak.

“Shh,” Noah soothingly hushes you as he passes his thumbs over your eyes. “It’s okay. Come under the water with me. I’ve got you.”

You plug your nose and close your eyes as you shove yourself under the surface of the water. A foot under the surface Noah makes sure his presence is known by keeping a soothing hand on your hip. His voice speaks out to you through the water, startling you.

“What you’re feeling is your body coming to balance with the new abilities I’ve given you. Whenever you’re ready open your eyes and breathe. It’ll feel just like it does when you're on land… I promise you,” his fingers graze lightly over your skin, calming you.

His confidence in you gives you enough bravery to open one eye. He’s holding you so close and a grin grows on his face when he sees you slowly open up. You open your other eye after realizing you dont get the usual sting from the saltwater from having them open underwater for too long. It feels normal. Your eyes widen at Noah when your chest starts to burn from the absence of air. Feeling anxious, you lose the ability to control the wading of your arms and legs and begin to sink.

“Take one breath. It’ll be okay,” Noah pulls you against his chest by wrapping his arms around your waist. “Remember if you drown, I’m right here. I’ll save your life every day if I need to,” he whispers. 

Nodding vigorously at his words, you quickly suck in and blow out. A burst of bubbles spews from your mouth, but you feel fine— better now that you’re letting oxygen into your lungs.

“I can breathe under—,” You stop mid-sentence realizing you can hear yourself, too. 

Noah throws his head back and laughs; his hair flows through the water with his movement, “I just need to give you better swimming ability and we’ll be ready to go.” He lets go of your waist and dives towards your bare legs. He places his hands around your ankles and they feel the same tingly sensation as before. “Alright, let’s go,” Noah holds out a hand for you to take.

“Where are we going?” You ask while hesitantly taking his hand in yours. Noah begins to swim with you by his side and you’re able to kick your legs fast enough to meet his pace. 

“I’m going to show you around,” he smiles.

—

After a few hours of talking and swimming through Okinawa’s waters, you’ve gotten to do things you never imagined. Noah took you through the colorful reefs that are home to sea turtles and colorful fish, coral, and sea anemones, he brought you to meet a family of dolphins and you both held onto their dorsal fins swimming through the water, and you talked about where he lived and he promised he would show you soon. 

Right now, you follow closely behind him as he leads you along the sandy floor through a forest of seaweed that are as tall as trees back home. The sun glows through the ripples of the surface sending rays of light that adorn Noah’s skin. 

He stops at a wall of seaweed and smiles back at you before using his hands to spread apart the stalks. It opens up to a clearing in the forest with golden sands that sparkle under the high sun. In the middle of the clearing is a large, deep green blanket and as you swim closer to it you see it's woven from fibers of seaweed and other plants.

“I have nothing for you to eat, but I did set up this blanket for us while you were getting ready this morning,” he gives a sheepish smile as if he’s sorry he couldn’t give you more. “Kind of like a picnic.”

Taking a seat on the woven blanket, you run your fingers through the material. While it’s made of seaweed, its fibers feel satisfying to the touch and you can poke your fingers through each stitch. 

Noah rests beside you, lying back and supporting himself with his hands. He closes his eyes and basks in the midday sun that rains on you two.

“Can I ask you some questions?” You ask him curiously. “Like, about you being ningyo?”

“I was wondering when I was going to be interviewed,” he nods. “Ask me anything.” He still rests with his eyes closed, but his ears are open.

“Ok, so—,” you stop, realizing there’s an overwhelming number of things you could ask first. “You like to sing?”

He smiles, amused by your question. “Mhm,” he hums and opens his eyes to meet yours. “When I saved you last night, it seems like you know one of my songs.”

“So it is your song! It’s been stuck in my head. I think the place I’m staying is just close enough to your cove that I can hear you while I sleep,” you explain. “And it’s your song? Noah, does every ningyo sing?”

“My friends and I, that’s what we do. We make music, and I’ll usually write the lyrics. Not every ningyo sings, but we all have our own special talents,” he explains. Whenever he touches on the topics most close to him, you can feel his pride radiate off of him.

You start to hum the notes you’ve had in your head, by the time his voice reaches your condo you can’t hear words, just a mumbled tune. “Hmm, what are the lyrics to the one you’ve been practicing the past couple of nights?”

“The song is called ‘The Grey’. The part you’ve heard…,” he hums to himself and tilts his head back and forth trying to find the words. 

“Nobody left for me to talk to, nobody to call

Got everything I could want, but I still wanted more.”

“You should sing it,” you lean and nudge his shoulder.

“I don’t usually have a problem when it comes to practicing around my friends, and we do live performances too, but something about you makes me shy,” he admits. A tinge of a blush dances in his cheeks and nose. “You’re just gonna have to listen to the ningyo like everyone else.”

“Or, you can bring me to one of your live shows?” You ask excitedly.

Noah giggles and shakes his head, amused by your excitement. “You’re invited any time.”

Too bad I’ll only be here one more day, you think to yourself. “How much do you know about humans?” You ask, changing the subject.

“Oh, well, my best friend is human,” he shrugs his shoulders as if it’s not the most surprising thing you’ve heard him say all day. “So, I know a lot… Maybe, too much.”

A tinge of jealousy strikes your chest. Another human in his life that isn’t you. Someone found him before you did, you think. 

As if Noah is reading your mind, he smirks. “I met Nicholas when we were kids… He stumbled across my cove the same way you did and I was more brave with him than you because I introduced myself immediately. He’s my family,” he smiles and then gestures, holding up his wrist, “He’s also my tattoo artist. He has a portable machine and setup that he brings to the beach for when we have sessions.”

“You beat me to ask you about those next,” you smile with relief. “He’s been keeping your secret all these years?”

“Yeah,” he laughs but it sounds like a scoff. “Well, he was, but in the last few years since I’ve started to sing more he was the one that started a rumor about the ‘ningyo’. He says his neighbors love it. A lady who runs a bookstore and her sisters?” Noah breaks out into a fit of laughter and it tickles you to join him. 

“She’s the reason I knew about you,” you giggle pleasantly. 

“I’m glad my existence is entertaining,” he calms himself and reaches out to rest a hand on your thigh.

You gaze into his eyes for a beat before braving to ask, “So, do you have any other human friends I should know about?”

He smiles. “I don’t. My other friends are all like me,” he assures. “I would love for you to meet them, but for right now I just want to keep you all to myself. I hope that’s okay?”

“That’s perfect,” you scooch closer towards him until your knees are against the smooth scales of this tail. Noah is cold-blooded, but he still gives you goosebumps of warmth whenever he’s so close to touching you. “I have one more question to ask.”

“Go ahead,” he caresses up and down your thigh softly.

“Am I the first human girl you’ve taken on one of these dates?” You ask cautiously.

“You are the first girl I’ve brought into the ocean in general,” he admits. “Besides the cove and where I live, this is my sanctuary. It means a lot for me to share it with you.”

While you want to seem relaxed about his response, you still let out a relieved breath. He chuckles and leans into your shoulder.

“To be honest, you’re the only girl I’ve been intrigued with in a long time. When I first saw you come down the cliff and relax on the sand with a book in your hand, I knew you might be the one for me,” he smiles. “This clearing is where I read all of my books.”

“You have books in the ocean?” Your eyes widen at him and you tug on his bicep excitedly.

“Mhm,” his face glows each time you’re enamored by every new piece of information he shares about life below the surface. “I have a library at home. We have shelves, too,” he teases.

“Now, you have to show me,” you whine. “Please.”

“I’ll bring you home before you have to leave Japan,” his lips graze your shoulder with a kiss. “I’ve always wanted to find someone like you.”

Your heart flutters at his words. “I think you’re exactly who I was meant to find, too.”

His dark eyes match yours and a grin grows on his lips. These words are the only ones he’s wanted to hear come out of your mouth since the moment he laid eyes on you. 

“Noah, I’m not just in Japan to relax,” you begin to explain. “Home isn’t perfect as what I’ve found here. I’ve been searching for something new… Someone to love,” your gaze pulls away from him and you stare at the glistening sands of the clearing. “I want someone who will want me,” you pause but don’t dare look up to see his reaction. “I feel so stuck and ignored where I’m from. In my family, at work, every place that I should feel recognized and appreciated… It feels like I’m nothing.” you admit. A ghost of a hand tightens over your heart and squeezes. It hurts to talk about, but even with him, a stranger, it feels right.

“I’m not perfect,” he furrows his brow and runs a hand through his hair. “But, I can give you all of me if you let me.” Noah’s chest tightens too; he can’t bear the sight of your glossy eyes staring back at him so lonely. “I think I’ve felt similarly to you… I’ve been so bored of life. While I love to perform, I’ve felt so burnt out and in need of something new. It’s why I’ve been singing on my own at night; I’m trying to find what makes me feel excited again. I think you’re exactly who I need,” he explains. “I’m so sorry you feel that way about home. I would never make you feel inadequate,” Noah brushes a piece of hair being your hair. “I wish you could stay here with me.”

In Noah’s mind, he recounts the rumors under the sea of how you could stay. He’s been wanting to grant Ruffilo the same privileges, so everyone he loves can be with him at the same time. Noah chooses not to mention it, knowing that it could get both of your hopes up.

“I hate that I have to catch a flight soon,” you say softly. Allowing your feelings to come out as your next words, you whisper, “I don't want to fly away from you.”

You find yourself leaning into him while anticipating if he’ll reciprocate your movements. Your eyes switch between watching his own and his lips; his tongue darts out to lick his before leaning into you slowly.

He leans into you fully, but merely presses his forehead into yours. With his eyes shut tight, he huffs defeatedly, “I want to kiss you so badly, but you need to know that if I do… Something in me won't be able to let go of you.”

You pull away and attach your lips to his neck. He hums under the heat of your mouth and teeth on his jugular. Speaking into his ear you urge him to go forward, “I want it. Whatever it is. I need someone to hold onto me… Like I told you, it’s why I’m here.”

He leans back to meet your gaze. “Are you sure? No matter how I feel…I can’t just take you away from where you’re really from. You need to go home soon.”

Heat builds up in your cheeks and your eyes begin to well up, you bite your lip but allow your heavy emotions to come through your voice, “I would rather be with you, even for a few days more, than to have to return to the life I already know.” His eyes watch you intently, looking for confirmation that you’re telling your whole truth. “Even if this doesn’t work out, I want to know that I tried. I want to love again, Noah.”

His eyes widen in surprise. You would give up everything you knew for him, and he’s starting to realize that. “C’mere,” he brings his hands to your cheeks.

You eagerly pull yourself to your knees. “Please, kiss me,” you whisper while leaning into him once more. Noah pulls you into him and your lips meet him under the afternoon sunlight. “Mmm,” you hum under the soft press of his lips. You feel a pull from your chest towards him growing, almost supernaturally. It feels as if a string is reaching from your chest towards his heart to tie you two together. The golden glow you feel under your skin entices you to pull Noah in closer by tangling your fingers in the back of his hair and holding him by his cheek.

Noah hums and his hands leave your face to roam freely over your exposed skin. Through his passionate kiss, you feel his fingers grazing over your neck, shoulders, and lower towards your thighs. He doesn’t fight you when your tongue presses against his supple lips for entrance. He melds into you comfortably and allows his tongue to explore your mouth, as well.

You believe you’ll never get used to the tingly sensation he brings to you when he touches your skin, whether using magic or not. Being in this secluded clearing and having access to his cove, he has made you feel like the only girl in the world. With him, you sit in the eye of a hurricane and get to watch the world spin by without care if everything will be okay because you know it will be. Noah makes you feel safe and needed; he makes you know that your existence is important and he wants to be a part of it.

As you pull away from his kiss, the smile on his face and his pearled tooth make you melt in his arms.

Giddy in his grasp, you bite your lip, “Why do I feel like something is pulling me into you?” Pointing to the center spot between your breasts, “I feel like I could never lose you.”

“You won’t,” Noah assures. “Come to my place tomorrow night,” he pulls you to lie down on his chest on his blanket. You plan to spend the day away in his arms looking up a the rays of light dripping through the waves above you. “I’ll tell you then.”

—

After going home from your day with Noah, sleeping, and spending the majority of the next day away from him and the sea, you could still feel the same pull on him that you felt when you first kissed him. It felt as if the invisible string that grew from your chest was tethered to him even miles away at your Airbnb. Even when you close your eyes, you know the exact cardinal direction he is at any time. To your surprise, it didn't bother you one bit, because for once you didn't feel alone, and knowing he had the same tie to you, he was looking after where you were, as well.

It’s evening time and Noah planned for you to meet him on the shore of his cove; so you’re currently headed down the cove’s cliff to him. You’re wearing another bikini you packed with a pair of sandals.

He wanted to show you exactly where he lived and to explain the tether you felt towards him; you secretly hoped that he would do more than that, too. To feel pride in having kissed a merman is something you would never thought would be a truth in your life. Noah’s physically different to say the least, but damn does he make your knees weak.

Noah beams waiting for you with his head and shoulders above the dark water. Throwing your sandals to the side and walking towards the edge of the water, you admire his glazed skin under the bright moon. Under the moonlight, his tattoos are riddled with water droplets that shine. His hair is soaking wet as always, falling into into eyes and shaping his temples.

“My place is nearby,” he smirks and nods his head over your shoulder. “We have to dive underneath the island.”

“Dive?” You shift weight on your feet before swimming off into deeper water towards him. Noah is confident in you, but he sees the hesitance on your face.

“You’ve been a great swimmer so far keeping up with me. I know you can do this,” he holds out his hand for you to take, “Just hold onto me and you’ll be safe.”

You take his hand and interlock his fingers with his. “I trust you.”

“Right this way, beautiful,” he pulls you underneath the water and you start swimming over the side of the cove. Even with your tether, you watch the pearlescent strip on his tail closely to not lose him. It’s the brightest part of the entire ocean at this point of the evening. The sun was out when you were here last and Noah probably failed to mention that he has night vision.

Following closely behind him, you squeeze his hand as you two approach a deep cavern that’s carved into the base of the island. 

“Hold on tight to me,” Noah faces you and holds your chin. “We’re going to dive and then swim right back up. I live in an underwater cave, so you’ll be able to walk around and breathe normally once we’re inside, okay?”

“Okay, I got this,” you breathe out steadily and give him an assured smile.

“Hell yeah, you do,” he kisses your knuckles in his hand. “C’mon.”

The strength of Noah’s tail pushes you both deep through the cavern and it’s the first time you feel real pressure on your limbs— and the first time you feel you need to hold your breath. Noah watches over you, and his presence helps you calm your nervous heart and lungs. When he points upwards, you know to swim with him toward the surface and you do so eagerly.

You gasp for air as you reach the surface even knowing you don’t need to. However, the sight around you could make you gasp, too.

Noah comes up to the surface after you and shakes out his wet hair. His gaze falls onto your bewildered expression. “Y/N, are you alright?” Noah asks with worry in his voice. 

“Yeah—,” you answer, truthfully, but you can’t fully focus on his voice as you’re wading through the water of his cave looking around at his home. The room is sizeable with the pool of saltwater you’re in the center of. Noah’s shelves are carved out of the side of the cave and stuffed with books thick and thin. There’s enough room to walk around the pool, but also layers of rock that surround it. Either it’s the material of the rock or the deep teal waters reflecting off of them, but it seems as though the cave’s walls are glowing blue-green. Moonlight seeps in through an opening in the ceiling, but you see he’s set up groups of white pillar candles around the edge of the cave. 

“I borrowed a lighter and candles from Nick,” he chuckles watching your lips turn into an “o”. “It was a pain in the ass to dry them all out and it took all day, but I wanted it to feel more romantic than our picnic yesterday.”

Your neck snaps to Noah, “I loved our date. Thank you though, your place is gorgeous.” You wrap your hand around his bicep and kiss his shoulder for reassurance. 

He melts under your touch. “I did too. Go ahead and rest on the ledge,” he motions towards the side of the pool. “I’ll help you up.”

You swim over to the edge of the pool and turn to face him. You feel his arms wrap around under your butt and begin to lift up. 

“Oh,” a surprised noise falls from your lips as he picks you up with ease and lifts you onto the smooth, rock edge. He also failed to mention his super strength, you think. You cross your legs and rest against the smooth stone behind you admiring the way the flicker of the lit candles reflect off the dark pool of water your calves dangle in.

“There you go,” he smiles up at you and rests his hands on your knees.

Looking around some more, you realize his place is pretty empty. There are two instruments that are reminiscent of guitars leaning on the opposite wall. Other shelves along the walls have wooden boxes and trinkets displayed, but he doesn’t have a bedroom, bathroom, or a kitchen. “Where do you sleep, Noah?” You ask, looking down at him. 

“You’re wondering if I have a bed?” He shoots you a smooth wink and raises his eyebrows.

“Yes, but not like that,” you fluster. He was right though, the thought about how he sleeps and has sex does cross your mind. “It just seems like you don’t have a lot of things.”

“Everything you see is what I have,” he shrugs and water splashes over his shoulders. “I don’t need much.”

“What do you eat, then?” You tilt your head to the side, curious. Unknowing to you, you have just uncrossed your legs at the same time as asking this question.

Noah’s gaze darts from your face to in between your legs, which are at his eye level. He nearly chokes and you watch him try to control a cough. “Uhm, I eat a lot of different things. I just don’t have the need to cook anything.”

Shying away from whatever that reaction was, you move on to talk about what has been on your mind all day, “So, you said you would tell me about what’s going on here?” You tap on your chest with your pointer finger.

His eyes widen as if you’ve just given him permission to look at your breasts sitting nicely in your bikini top. Noah forces his primal thoughts away and blinks to refocus on your question. It’s important he tells you quickly or you won’t know what’s coming to you.

Noah caresses your skin around your thighs with his thumbs. Clearing his throat he begins to explain everything, “When I told you that if I kissed you that I wouldn't be able to let you go, I was being literal.” Noah’s eyes pass back and forth searching for any bit of negative reaction, but you give none. You just nod him on to continue. “Beings like me, when we reach a certain time in our life that we feel we need a companion, something within our DNA begins an instinctual ritual to find…,” he pauses again looking for your eyes to dart to the water wanting to leave or for you to fidget out of your seat, “a mate.” He wants to shut his eyes and disappear from your curious gaze, but luckily to him, a small smile paints itself on your face. “I think my time began a couple months ago— when I began to start feeling bored and burnt out with my normal life. My body and mind pushed me to find someone to make me feel belonging and excitement again, and I didn’t see anyone fitting my ideal mate— until I saw you on the sands of my cove.”

His head falls and you look down at him concernedly. He continues, “I need you to understand that being my mate would make you mine for life. I would be the one you must love; you wouldn’t have a choice.” You want to interrupt him, but all you do is lean and place a soothing hand on his cheek. Noah tilts his head toward your touch, “Right now, we have formed a tether from our kiss that binds our two hearts together.” Noah looks up at you finally, but your heart caves in on itself when you see his eyes, red and glossy. “The tether is permanent. Throughout our lifetimes, neither of us will ever forget where the other is as we’ll be able to feel each other’s presence, even across the world. However, Y/N, if you don’t want any more than that, I understand.”

Grabbing both sides of his face, you lean down to lock on his eyes with furrowed brows, “Noah, I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.” The words seem crazy to you as you thought them over as he explained his culture, but hearing them come out of your mouth was a different story. You wanted to leave home and start anew; this is your chance to begin a life with someone that cared for all of you… Wanted you. “I think— I think your power over love is beautiful. Please know that I'm grateful for the gifts you’ve given me, including our tether. I want to be your mate.”

His hands come to the sides of your hips and his muscles flex when he pushes himself out of the water to meet his lips with yours. It’s a quick, soft, reassuring touch, nevertheless you feel your heart glow golden.

Back in the water, Noah uses his thumbs to rub away the redness and deep emotion in his eyes, but they still are slightly puffy. 

“I know I should believe you, but I need to ask if you’re sure? This isn’t a decision you can take back,” he reiterates.

“I’m sure,” you smile at him confidently. “So, do I marry you now? Say I do?” You chuckle under your breath and kick your feet in the water in front of him.

He laughs along with you and you notice the water behind him splashing. You imagine he’s kicking his tail in excitement, like a dog, at your answer. “We can get married and have a wedding,” he smiles up at you proudly, “If that is what you dream of. However, there’s a— different ritual that ningyo do in order to make a life mate relationship official.”

“What is it?” You tilt your head curiously.

Noah wants so badly to say the next word under his breath, but he has to be truthful to you, his soon to be mate. His wife. “Consummation,” he says assuredly.

Oh, okay! You think. You would’ve swam through a sunken ship to retrieve a ring or even fought a shark for him, but this ritual sounds much better. You never thought that you’d be mentally celebrating the opportunity to have sex with a merman, but it feels like fireworks are shooting off in your brain. 

Before you can react, he continues, “Y/N, since kissing you my body and mind have not been able to forget the way your skin feels on mine. I can’t get over the way you say my name. I just want— need you, primally. I’ve been acting strangely all day thinking about whether you would say yes to being my mate, and every time I imagined the words coming out of your mouth I— I needed to relieve myself,” he admits. A faint shade of pink blankets his cheeks. “So again, if you say no to this, I’ll under—,”

You interrupt him, “I want to have sex with you.” Very smooth. “I understand what I’m getting into and forever is okay with me. I want you.” The thought of Noah spilling into his fist several times today just because you kissed him makes your heart pound.

His eyes widen at your confidence. “I trust you, Y/N. I’ll make you mine,” he smiles proudly. “You should know that I’ve never had sex with a human before, though. All I know about female human anatomy is from what Nick has shown me in,” he catches your amused, hopeful expression, “— uhm, nevermind.”

You throw your head back and laugh, but realize he might feel insecure about his knowledge of your body, so you cover your mouth and chuckle to yourself silently. “Noah, have you watched human porn?” You whisper through your hand.

He scoffs and grabs underneath your thighs, tugging you to the edge of the pool. “Get over here,” his voice is assertive, but the warmth of his face hiding itself between your thighs tells you he feels otherwise.

“Mhm,” you hum teasingly. “What did you learn? I assume you watched it on something you borrowed from your friend?” You try to push him further. The sight of the big, strong ningyo crumbling between your legs fuels the aching fire in your core. 

“Put your legs over my shoulders and I’ll show you?” He asks while looking up at you with dark irises. His fingers come to the sides of your bikini bottoms and you lift yourself so he can pull them down off your legs. “I’m confident that I can please you in other ways, but I want to use my mouth— which is something I’ve never done before. Let me know if I’m making you feel good?” 

You nod and bite your lip while spreading your thighs and hooking your calves over each of his freckled shoulders. You didn’t expect to feel shy spreading yourself open for him, but Noah’s eyes are studying your form and his fingers are caressing your folds curiously.

The soft touch of his fingerpads explores the area around your entrance makes you shutter. Noah’s thumb finds your clit and begins kneading your bud intently. “Right there,” you praise him urging him on. One of his digits gathers your arousal from your entrance before pressing into you slowly. Little by little, you take on the length of his forefinger as he stretches you out for him while his thumbs continue circling your clit. “Noah, can I have more?”

“Of course,” he agrees adding his middle finger into you. He pumps into you purposefully; he curls his fingers upward and listens for the sweet sounds to come from you that help him make sure he’s hitting the spots you like best. Noah takes your chin in his empty hand and gives you a look of permission to move his mouth to where he wants it most. 

“Just don’t stop what you’re doing okay?” You nod and nibble your lip. Bringing your hands to your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples over your bikini top, you’re eager to get off on his fingers. “Feels so good.”

Noah takes a second to ogle you, pleasing yourself, but since you’ve allowed him to duck his head between your thighs he’s there right afterward. He removes his thumb from your clit and replaces it with the suck of his lips. Like he’s been starving himself all day, his mouth and tongue move hungrily against your clit while he thrusts his fingers into your cunt in a focused rhythm. The sound of his lapping and the squelch of you on his fingers reverberates against the walls of the empty cave.

“Noah,” your hands reach for his hair and interlace with his dark, damp strands. “Fuck, you’re doing so well, baby.”

He groans between your legs and squeezes the outside of your thigh around his head with his empty hand.

When Noah described his primal urges, you had not understood the gravity of which it affects him. He needs this. He needs you. You believe that getting you off is an instinctual goal driving him to devour you with vigor. Squeezing your breast harshly, you anticipate how he’ll behave once he gets to thrust into you with his dick.

“I’m so close, Noah,” you choke out, “but I want to cum with you. Let me cum on your cock.” You plead to him, but he continues on with his movements; your announcement almost encourages him to continue moving his tongue and fingers in tandem. “Noah, please, I’m gonna— fuck, you’re so good at this.”

“Mmm,” he hums on your clit before pulling away. “Cum on my fingers. I’ll make you cum on my cocks, too, I promise,” he claims before returning to your clit encouraging your orgasm.

Before, your eyes sat half lidded as he fucks you up to his knuckles, but now they’re wide open. Cocks? Like, with an “s”?

“Shit,” the thought of your pussy stretched around all of him makes you come undone. Gripping the back of his head, you pull him in and hump his mouth eagerly.

“Good girl, use me,” he praises you against your skin. He allows you to squirm on his hand as you ride out your high. Your chest heaves under your hand as you lie back against the stone behind you. “Ready to come down?” Noah asks while pressing nurturing kisses along the insides of your thighs down to your knees. He softly unhooks your legs from his shoulders and places them over the ledge.

“Mhm,” is what you can muster as a response as you sit up slowly. While your brain is dazed, you still yearn to give all of yourself to him. Putting on a show for your soon-to-be mate, you undo the tie of your bikini top and drop each strap to the sides sensually. The top falls to your lap and you throw it over your shoulder into the slate cave wall. 

“H— Hold onto me,” Noah says distractedly. You take his shoulders under your palms and brace yourself for him to lift you off the stone ledge back into the pool. 

You expect to hiss at the cool temperature change, however, the heat of your arousal warms you and there’s no need to adjust to the Okinawan waters. Your skin, between your legs, your hands… Everywhere is hot with need for him. 

Holding onto Noah’s shoulder for support, you brush his damp hair back with your fingers. He melts into your touch and almost purrs with pleasure. Taking his chin between your fingers, you praise him again seeing how he wanes to your words. While being a powerful, fantastical being, he’s also reminded you how he is all yours. “Thank you for trying something new for me,” you tell him before pressing a passionate kiss to his lips.

He returns your kiss and wraps his arms around your torso snugly, pulling you into his. “You get to have everything you want,” he pulls away to kiss along your collarbone and up your neck, “now that you’re with me.”

As he kisses your neck, you feel the firm press of his pelvis against your upper thigh. You look down, but can’t see much through the obscured water, just the reflection of the moon through the ceiling and candlelight.

“Can I touch you?” You ask hesitantly while trailing your fingers along the velvety scales on his hip.

Noah takes your hand in his from his hip and guides into to about where a human man’s groin would be. His breath hitches as he helps wrap your smaller fingers around one of his members. “I know humans only have one. I don’t expect you to…” Noah pauses questioning his vocabulary, “Use both of them tonight.”

Excitedly and inquisitively, you explore his parts while watching his face twist and eyes roll back into his skull. Just from feeling, his cocks are stacked on top each other, vertically, with the lower one being larger than the human average size while the upper one is about one inch shorter. They seem to be prehensile having the ability to move freely in your palm, seeking your warmth. Twisting your hand up and down larger shaft, he’s wider at the base than the tip and much smoother than a human, besides the shallow, chevron ridges that line the bottom of the shafts. He feels so slick in your hand… His water-resistant precum coated himself as he went down on you.

He must have really enjoyed himself, you think. 

As you rub your thumb over his larger tip, you realize you’ve distracted yourself from the merman attached to it. He hisses under your touch before wrapping his arms underneath your ass and hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his hips.

“I need to be inside of you, so badly, it hurts,” he proclaims. “No more teasing.”

“I’m giving myself to you,” you whisper. “Please fuck me.” 

Noah bites his lip focusing on moving slowly regardless of his impulsions to buck up into you with force. With his large hands supporting you, he guides you down on his larger member. You feel it prod against your entrance moving itself up and down your slit.

“Fuck—”

“—yes,”

You two moan together as your pussy stretches around his cock while he lowers you. As he bottoms out on his flared base, you feel his other, smaller phallus rubs lazy figure-eights on your aching clit.

“That feels perfect,” you compliment. “Keep going.”

He leans in to attach his lips to yours and starts to bounce you on his cock. The saltwater moves around you in soft waves in response to your movements. With your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, he pulls you into his hips.

Noah continues to thrusts into you rhythmically while the sounds of your combined moans fill the empty cavern. “Look at you,” he smiles, his pearl tooth twinkling at your sultrily. “How do you feel?”

“So good,” you mumble as your eyes roll back. You wanted to say how you’ve never experienced sex like this before, but you’re head is so foggy you can’t get the words out. The way you feel is euphoric. You mentally wonder if there’s some magical element to his precum to make you feel like every thrust feels better than the last, but maybe you’re stereotyping him now. No way that could be the case, right? You think.

Setting you to bottom out on his cock, he stills his hands to start thrusting his hips normally. Every sensation he brings to your body drags you closer and closer to your end. The circling of his phallus on your clit, the needy humping of his hips into yours, and his soft lips on your neck and shoulders all exhilarate you at once.

“I’m gonna cum again,” you cry out in a whine. Your forehead meets his and you shut your eyes to focus on his touch. Your pussy pulses around his dick to take him for all he’s worth as you reach your climax.

“Fuck, me too,” Noah announces before shutting his eyes and groaning through his orgasm. You feel his cum glaze your walls and it feels different than you would expect… thick, cooling, and sticky.

You hold Noah close and come down from your second orgasm with him. He matches his breathing with yours. Looking between the both of your chests, a soft golden light shines for the first time through your skin before it dissipates to nothing.

Noah looks up from your chest with a grin. “You’re mine now. I— I love you already,” he proclaims with a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, too,” you reply. Usually you would feel crazy for saying such words less than a week of knowing someone, but right now it feels so right. Resting your head on his shoulder, exhausted, Noah holds you close to his body. “Can I stay here for a while before we swim back up?”

“Of course, my love,” he nods and rubs soothing circles on your shoulder blades. “If you need to take a nap or anything… It’s okay. You can even pick out a book from my library, so I can read to you.” Even without looking up, you can feel the beam of his smile shining next to you.

—

NOAH’S POV

Y/N spent the majority of the night with me that night as we enjoyed having completed our mating ritual; I read to her as she rested on the edge of the pool and we chatted about our future together. 

She left the next morning needing to catch her flight to return home and she’s been away from me for two months. I can still feel all of her, though. I know exactly where she is, and my chest feels like it glowing when she happens to look in my direction.

Even with her gone, the past couple months I haven't spent alone, not just because of our tether, but because I’ve reconnected with my friends and with my love of music. I’ve been singing every day and writing new songs… Some of which are about her.

Besides music, only one other goal has been driving me to wake up every morning: finding a way that I can have my family, Nicholas and Y/N, to be here in the ocean with me whenever they like.

Following the rumors and pursuing every lead, I think I’ve finally found the magic I need and I can’t wait until she’s back in Japan for me to show her.

[bandgie]

Hey I saw your requests were open so I figured I’d shoot my shot. Can I request a fic Where Hyunjin really needs to pee and reader is joking around with him while straddling his lap and he keeps warning her that he needs to go but she thinks he’s kidding and he ends up peeing a bit and he feels kinda shy about it so reader tells him it’s okay to just let go while she’s on his lap. Then she starts grinding on him and he gets turned on and they fuck raw for the first time 😁

a/n: oh you're siicckk I love it

warnings: just read the ask man, MDNI 18+, established relationship, under the influence, fem!reader, dom-ish reader, soft dick hyunjin (lets fucken go), fluff mostly, PIV, no protection, come on you should know me by now!

1.4k words

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Maybe drinking wasn't the best idea. You could only imagine the pounding headache that would come in the morning. However, you couldn't manage to care enough as you sat on Hyunjin's warm lap. His hands were lazily placed on your hips, softly rocking them against his crotch.

Another bad idea in getting wasted was that neither you nor Hyunjin had explored each other much. The relationship was still new, but that didn't stop either of you from grinding up against each other late into the night. 

Hyunjin could feel the excitement bubbling in his stomach. The feeling of your plush thighs on his, how your chest was pressed in his face. It sent a thrill down his spine to be this close to you, but there was a familiar pressure in his bladder that ruined the mood.

"Babe," his voice was velvety soft as he spoke. "I gotta piss."

You looked down at your lover. A confused look on your face as you replied, "Now?" He nods, looking at you like a dog who got his bone taken away. "Yes, now."

Rather than getting up, you grab the back of his head and force him between your breasts. He makes a mmf! sound then giggles at your behavior. "Babbeee," he drawls. "I really need to go." His hands tap your ass as an encouragement to get up, but you aren't having it.

"You just don't want to touch me," you pout. The alcohol must be getting to your head. You're not one to deny someone of relieving their bladder. Hyunjin, however, is too drunk to catch onto the playfulness of your tone. "Of course I want to touch you! I'll just go to the bathroom real quick and-"

Hyujin's cut off with a moan as you grind your hips down on him. You rock back and forth, trying to create some friction between the layers of clothes. "You can hold it." It's not a request, but a demand from you. 

He shakes his head, "I really can't. We drank a lot. I'mma piss myself."

This makes you giggle, "Big boys don't pee their pants." You ignore Hyunjin's whines as you lift your hips just enough to remove your skirt. With your white underwear exposed, he can see the small patch of wetness that's accumulated. 

"If you do wanna piss that bad, you can go here," you look down to your bare thighs. Your hands move from the back of his head to the front of his pants. He doesn't protest when you unbuckle his belt, zip down his zipper to pull out his soft cock.

You coo at the sight, grabbing ahold of his dick and running your thumb along the slight. "You really are drunk," you mumble. "Can't even get hard." Hyunjin looks both horrified and aroused. It's your first time seeing his cock, and he's flaccid. You, on the other hand, are beyond ecstatic to see it. 

The warmth of your hand makes his hips jerk upwards. He groans. "Fuck, I'm gonna pee on you."

No matter how many times Hyunjin's warned you, you're still shocked to see a yellow stream emit from his tip. He tried to cover his cock, but you quickly slap his hands away. His piss lands on his jeans, leaking into the material. The warmth seeps onto your thighs, all the way down until your white underwear is stained with a yellow hue.

He moans. Moans when he sees you covered in his pee, his fifth. Hyunjin expects you to jump off his lap and run to the bathroom. He's waiting for your disgusted expression, but he's surprised to see a wide smile on your face. 

You pump his wet cock, drooling. "Fuck it's everywhere. Peed on me like a dog, you're so hot." Some piss leaks from his cock as you stroke him faster. Your underwear sticks to your cunt, but you're certain it's more of his own fluid than yours.

Hyunjin whimpers, "I...You think it's hot?"

The uncertainty in his voice pulls at your heartstrings. Your boyfriend could do anything, and you'd find it endearing. He has you wrapped around his finger, and he doesn't even know it. "I think you're hot," you emphasize. "I need you in me now. I really wanna fuck you."

If Hyunjin was more sober, he would be horrified at the thought of having sex with you like this. He wanted your first time to be romantic. He wanted to take things slow and feel your body on his, completely nude. Still, he can't ignore the delight in how you pull your soaked underwear to the side.

His cock twitches in your hand. After his tinkle, Hyunjin feels himself getting hard in your soft palms. He helps you over his dick with his hands on your waist, slowly lowering you to his length. 

Everything is so easy, so perfect when his tip breaches your walls. There's not an ounce of pain as he fills you up. You shiver and place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. "Mmm so good," you moan. "Deeper."

Hyunjin complies eagerly, shoving the remaining inches of his cock. It nestles snugly in your cunt, the head kissing your cervix. As much as you would like to bounce on him, you stay sitting fully on his dick. You want to feel how the curve of him hits every spot within you. How your walls tighten and squeeze around his unfamiliar girth.

It's only when you've begun dripping that you move upwards. A few inches of Hyunjin's length slip out before you slide back down. He slides effortlessly in you, stretching you wonderfully. 

Hyunjin can't decide whether he wants to look at your face or where your bodies connect. He loves watching his cock disappear in you as you ride him, but he also loves your fucked out expression. How your mouth hangs open to moan uncontrollably, the way your nose scrunches when he thrusts his hips upwards, how your eyes look into his so dreamily. 

"Fuck," Hyunjin groans. This might not have been the ideal way he wanted to make love, but he'll forever save the image in his mind. Imprint the feeling of your body on his. He'll immortalize this moment in a painting.

Both of you are too tipsy to properly fuck into each other. Your thrusts are sloppy and they don't match. Sometimes you have to stay hovering while he grinds upwards to you. The sounds of his thighs clapping against the back of yours echo in the house.

You throw back your head when he decides to use you to his liking. He bounces you on his cock like a fleshlight, eyes crazed. With your throat exposed to him, he can't help but lean forward to bury his face into your neck. 

Without warning, he bites down. You cry out from the sensation, feeling his teeth pierce your flesh. The saltiness of your skin settles on his tongue and the primal taste makes his hips move rougher.

A warm sensation builds quickly in your stomach, and you find yourself flooding before you can comprehend it. The familiar pale yellow liquid spurt from your cunt, and sprays all over his lower stomach. 

Hyunjin laughs tiredly upon feeling the liquid stream out of you. He pulls his head back and looks down, seeing the mess. "Looks like I wasn't the only one who needed to go."

You babble incoherently, jumble 'sorrys' and 'don't stop.'

He chuckles again and focuses his attention back on your dripping cunt. The extra warmth and wetness only push Hyunjin closer to the edge. His grip tightens on your hips and he drives into you. His balls tense and his cock twitches, and for a moment he thinks about pulling out. 

But the way you're helplessly letting him use you and looking at him so endearing makes it seem as though you might get upset if he pulls out. So he doesn't, and he buries his cock to the base as he cums inside. 

You thought it was impossible for you to feel wetter, but you're proven wrong. Hyunjin's cum shoots itself deep inside to claim you. You feel gravity pull his arousal down and out of your pussy, dripping onto his thighs and the couch. 

Tiredly, you collapse on his chest. His arms wrap around you and pull you close, peppering your neck and cheek with kisses. Both of you find solace in each other's embrace, giggling and giving open mouth kisses carelessly. It doesn't take long for the cum and piss to get uncomfortable.

Both of you decide a thorough shower is much needed... and maybe another round.

a/n: this was pretty fun to write! little secret for ya'll, men can't piss during sex (unless they have a medical condition) so that's why I had him soft to pee. but tbh we need more skz soft penis appreciation. if you're with me say 'i'

[crumbledcastle28]

Din Djarin: Creaky

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no use of pronouns or y/n)

Summary: You give Din his first kiss.

The air filled with what sounded like the hissing of steam, but you knew it was not. You felt the weight of the helmet dip into the bed near your still locked hands.

You exhaled shakily. “Okay?”

Din’s raw, unfiltered voice hit your ears for the first time. “Okay.”

Warnings: talkative, nervous reader, kissing, sensuality but nothing overtly sexual, Din's mouth doesn't talk much, but his body sure does.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I guess my role on tumblr is to disappear until dincember. For the second year in a row, this is dedicated to @dindjarindiaries and their incredible dincember works.

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, reblog, or comment, it would be much appreciated <3

Din Works (and some more Pedro characters as well if you're interested)

My Masterlist

“This is…actually better than I expected.”

There was a chuckle from Din’s modulator as you jostled yourself up and down on his cot. He shut the door to his cabin which, given the Crest’s size, was not the word you would use to describe the small bedroom.

“Much more bouncy.”

You were filling the air with words that meant nothing. But that really wasn’t their purpose, was it? To mean anything?

No. They were meant to cut through the wool-thick ineptitude that both you and Din had in this moment. More so you, if you were being perfectly honest.

“You’re telling me you’ve never kissed anyone? Ever?”

Silence. “Never.”

“Why not?”

“Haven’t found a person I trust enough.”

“Do you trust me?”

You didn’t think he would actually say yes.

“A little creaky,” you continued on, “but, eh, it’s better than sleeping on the floor. I still don’t think I needed that new mattress before you did, though. Can’t believe you used all the credits from your last job for that. I mean, we have a baby alien with a rag for clothing. You don’t think there could have been better uses –”

Din sat next to you and placed a palm onto your hand.

“This becomes you.”

“Well I don’t know. Din,” you said, frustrated. “I’ve never…been someone’s first kiss. Well, maybe I have, but I didn’t know it. It isn’t really something one plans out like this –”

He squeezed onto the hand he held. You fluttered your eyes shut.

“Sorry,” you said with a laugh. “Sorry. I really shouldn’t be the nervous one here. Not that you should be nervous – you really shouldn’t – it’s easy! It’s, I guess, natural? Like – your body kind of figures out what to do once you – well, once you –”

The room being shed of any semblance of light was Din’s answer. You sighed.

“Sorry.”

He made no response.

“Since when did you install a remote into your armor for the lights in this room specifically?”

The air filled with what sounded like the hissing of steam, but you knew it was not. You felt the weight of the helmet dip into the bed near your still locked hands.

You exhaled shakily. “Okay?”

Din’s raw, unfiltered voice hit your ears for the first time. “Okay.”

You scooted closer to him, feeling the heat from his body already. He had been wearing no armor besides the helmet, left only in a thin undershirt and pants. You were careful with how close you moved – you had no idea where his face was in relation to yours, and bumping chins or foreheads or noses at that moment would have been simply…

the worst.

“Okay,” you whispered. He smelled really, really good up close. “I’m – I’m going to touch your face. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Was that a quiver you detected in his voice?

 He had a beard – not too long, but not stubble either. Thick and…trimmed. It would only make sense. He never spent long in the bathroom. You worked your hands up his soft skin. Into silky, moused hair. You weaved it through your fingertips, drifting forward in your pursuit to memorize the waves’ lenity –

Which led you to, in fact, bump noses.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to…”

You inhaled through your nose, stopping yourself. You then placed your hands on his cheeks, using your left thumb to search for his lips. You found them already parted, exhaling deep, hot puffs of air.

“I’m…” you licked your lips, edging closer so cautiously the back of your neck began to ache. “Okay?” you whispered.

Din’s reply was a nod of his head. You felt the motion through the brush of his nose against the crevice between your own nose and cheek.

“Okay,” you replied, so quiet you didn’t even know if you said it aloud.

You moved forward and slotted your lips over his for barely two seconds. You pulled away.

It was too quick. You didn’t get to know if his lips were as soft and pillowed as you imagined them to be. You wanted to know if you were right. You wanted more.

“Okay?” you said.

Din sounded…breathless in his reply. Husky and deep. “Okay.”

You leaned in again. Pressed your lips over his. Moved them slightly.

You smiled against his mouth. You were right.

You kept up that motion for about thirty seconds – kissing either the bottom or top of Din’s soft, pillowed lips, feeling as he almost immediately understood the motion of it. The rhythm. The tenacity. He was so gentle with it – hesitant. You tried to propel him with your mouth – pull it ever so closer to yours by his cheeks. You pulled away with another smile.

“See? I told you it was easy.”

You could hear his breaths now. You waited for him to say something. Anything.

Maker, were you bad?

“Okay,” you said, dropping your hands from his cheeks, “well… you have officially been kissed, Din Djarin. If you need to take a walk. Take a shower. Go off to an abandoned planet and think about this experience, don’t worry, that’s totally nor –”

He surged you forward by the back of your neck like he needed you to breathe.

Once your brain allowed you to process the fever in which he was pressing his lips against yours, you reciprocated like you needed him the same.

His fingers gathered into your hair, into your scalp, and yours did the same to his.

He was not hesitant now – he was in. Pushing against your mouth like he had been doing this for years.

You had a feeling he would be a fast learner.

You drifted your hands down to his chest, running them up and down from his stomach back up to his throat. His seemed perfectly happy where they were.

You could have boiled alive in his lips kissing the bottom and top of yours as much as he possibly could, but you wanted.

Oh you wanted.

You slipped your tongue between the seam of his lips – barely an inch between them – and he opened for you like clouds open for rain; fully, and without indecision.

You brought your hands back up to his face – one covering his left cheek, the other the back of his skull – and positioned his face for your tongue to enter his mouth fully.

And he groaned.

You kissed him – really kissed him – just like that for a few moments, before pulling away, and trailing kisses across his jawline.

“Why…” he began. You paused. “Why did you not suggest this months ago? Years ago?”

You chuckled. “You’re a scary guy.” You traced your tongue down the tendons in his neck.

He liked your tongue.

He brought a hand up to your waist, giving it a squeeze. “Maker.”

You smiled again, trailing a hand over to his collarbone, across it, down his arm, gripping onto his bicep. His arms had always been your favorite.

You both released a similar noise at the squeeze.

“Knew you’d like that,” he said, pulling you away from his neck to kiss you on the mouth. He wrapped his right arm around your waist completely, pulling you into his lap, the entire bed creaking at the motion.

You knew he was flexing his arm purposely as he made this move. It was the entire reason he pulled you into him the way he did.

But maker if you didn’t let his want to impress you – to make you want him – seep into your very bones, and moan into his mouth at the feeling.

He kept you like that for a few more moments. On his lap, his big arm wrapped around you while the other hand framed your face and pushed back your hair as he kissed and kissed and kissed you. Like this, he was surrounding you. All encompassing.

You smiled as his tongue entered your mouth – at how much he had become in your eyes, how deeply you never wanted to leave.

You felt him smile too.

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