#mia gifs happy ending things

[hotasfahrenheit]

Vamp the Series | Happy Ending

[pilot 18.6.24] | [pilot 15.6.24]

[lavenderspence]

Missing the happy hormone | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: emotional reader, period mention, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Apparently Spencer Reid could make anything better - even the emotional disaster of being on your period

A/N: First, huge thank you to the cutie that sent in this request, you literally caught me while on my period so this was born. Also, here’s to my inability to write short fics, this is your only warning that i can make and will make anything long, lol. Also, my titles suck omg. And shoutout to my crazy bestie for making me a Mamma Mia girly, she rocks.

But also, happy one month to this blog! When I carved out this little space for myself a month ago I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel being back here and writing again, but so far it’s been a treat. A huge thank you for all of your support and love and thank you to my mutuals and everyone that interacted with my blog. 💕 Here’s to many more months to come!

Request: spencer x fem!reader on her period/ovulating and shes in tears all the time?? Im ovulating and have been crying for hours and keep calling my mom lmaoo he’d been so lovely and sweet I know it I can feel it in my bones

masterlist

It was a slow day at the BAU. The most exciting thing in the 6 hours Spencer had spent at work was Rossi’s invitation to dinner the following weekend. 

Paperwork had piled high after their last 2 cases, so every team member was hunched over their desk, writing and revising reports. It was a never-ending cycle - finish a report, close the file, open a new one, and start all over again.

His eyes had started getting tired after four and a half hours, his hand had started cramping and he was down two pens so far, yet there was still a prominent pile on his desk.

He suspected Morgan and Emily might have pushed a file or two from theirs onto his load, seeing as he was getting done the fastest. Regardless, every few hours JJ was bringing even more to pile on top of everything that wasn’t finished, so buried in paperwork they stayed - no matter how fast he wrote or read, or how used to the load he was.

He was just thinking about getting up to prepare a fresh pot of coffee so he could function properly for a few more hours when his phone started ringing. He felt around the pockets of his suit jacket, where it sat draped on his chair, and then pulled it free. 

His display showed an incoming call, a picture of you as he hugged you, hands around your middle and face almost buried into your neck, a soft smile gracing both your faces. A scenery rich with reds, browns, and yellows stood behind you, the beauty of fall was nothing short of spectacular. 

The picture you’d taken last year when the team spent a weekend at Rossi’s cabin in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of landscapes and leaves, nature for miles. 

He accepted the call right away, a small smile on his face. 

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, if a little raspy from misuse. He hadn’t talked much in the last few hours - just a distracted short answer here or a hum there. He was happy you were calling, though, welcoming the reprieve from the most recent report. 

It was silent for a few seconds, and he wondered absentmindedly if maybe you hadn’t called him on accident, and then there came a tiny little sniffle from your side. 

“Sweetheart?” He prompted, “Are you there? What’s going on?” Worry was starting to creep into the base of his spine, but he still remained calm and kept his voice gentle. 

“I’m here. Hi.” Another small sniffle, “All’s good. Just…I was just wondering how much longer you’d be gone.” Your voice was small,like you thought you might upset him by asking, and a little crackly, like you yourself were upset about something. 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he checked the time quickly - 3:57 pm. 

“Probably about two more hours, there’s a lot of paperwork we need to go through.” His eyes met Emily’s as she sent him a curious, questioning look. 

“Oh, okay.” The resignation was clear in your voice, “I’ll see you later then.” The call ended abruptly, and it took him a second to catch up.

He couldn’t help but feel like not everything was as good as you claimed it was. For one, you rarely called to ask when he’d be home - you knew his work could span into the late hours, or even stretch for days. You let him update you on any changes in his work schedule. 

In your interactions, your voice was usually upbeat and teasing - especially on the phone. Your kindness was always evident in your voice, as was your mood. You were a sunshine person, if he ever met one, that’s probably why you and Penelope formed such a close bond upon meeting. 

There was something that nagged him - a change in your mood he could pick up on just by your voice - too low, too small, and the cracks that he could now identify as he replayed your conversation in his head. You were keeping yourself from crying out, and yet there was nothing more apparent than the tears in your voice. And that made him worry. 

“Reid, are you okay?” Emily’s voice snapped him from the hard stare he’d been giving his phone in the last several minutes since the call ended. 

“I…I don’t know.” His eye twitched, and he cleared his throat before he tried and failed to articulate exactly what was happening - he himself had a hard time understanding. One thing he knew was that he needed to get home. “I..um, I need to go. Can you, please?” He asked, gusting at the remaining three files on his desk before he pulled his suit jacket on and grabbed his satchel. 

Morgan and Emily shared a mildly concerned look before they both nodded their heads, “Yeah, go. Text to let us know if everything is okay.” Morgan reminded him before he exited the bullpen with a fast step and tried to keep calm.

He was aware the situation wasn’t anything that he needed to be incredibly worried over - if something was really wrong, he knew you would have let him know. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart constricted by the sound of your voice, or the overwhelming desire to come home and gently hold you, see what could have caused this behavior. 

You were curled up on the couch, watching as Donna helped Sophie get ready for her wedding, the gentle melody of “Slipping through my fingers” filling the empty apartment. Your eyes were watering, to the point that everything was starting to get blurry. A shaky exhale left your lips.

Today has simply been a rollercoaster. Kissing Spencer goodbye this morning was the highlight of the day. What followed was nothing short of an emotional disaster. 

You’d teared up during breakfast, images of picking berries with Spencer flying through your mind. The desire to make it a reality was strong. 

Following that had come the overwhelming urge to bawl your eyes out, for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just cry and cry until you had it all emptied out and you could take a deep breath and continue with your day. So, cry you did, and then you’d finished with your chores for the day. 

Apparently letting it all out and emptying your tear supply hadn’t happened. Seeing as around 3:30 you’d started missing your boyfriend so much, the need to hear his voice had won out, so you’d called him. You felt the need to have him home to hold you because this month’s visit from mother flow was making you feel like a crybaby.

But then there was disappointment at the notion that you needed to wait close to 3 hours before that could happen. So you quickly ended the call before he could pick up on the tone of your voice, and then you shed a few tears. 

Now here you were, rewatching Mamma Mia because you really needed a pick me up, and once again, eyes shining as the tears started falling. At this point, it was a losing battle, so you let them fall, humming to the song with a broken voice. 

That’s exactly how Spencer found you, not a minute later. His keys were in his hand, the satchel on his shoulder, and he was just a little bit out of breath. 

The moment his eyes met you, they softened as he dropped everything and sat down next to you. His hand reached up and he cradled the side of your face, wiping your tears away. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper.

“Look at Donna painting Sophie’s nails, it’s...” You hiccuped, another wave of tears washing over you. “And you’re home, why are you home?” Your question was met with a furrow in his brow, as his thumbs continued wiping underneath your eyes. 

“You called.” He answered simply. 

“But you said-” He stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

“I did, yes. But you sounded off and sad, so. Want to tell me what’s going on?” He prompted you gently as he pushed your hair back and pulled you into his lap after, feeling like you needed the physical contact. 

You weren’t ashamed to admit it, per se, but you were ashamed that your hormones had caused him to leave work and race home to be with you. 

“It’s my period,” you mumbled, hands wrapping around his neck as you hid your face in his chest, too tired to prevent your eyes from watering again. “It’s been going on all day. Randomly, I’d just get so emotional, and the tears would start. I was missing you so much too, and then hearing the song, bam, tears again. I’m so done with this Spence.” You sounded barely coherent, with your face pushed as close to him as possible. 

It all made sense now, you’d been cranky a few days ago, and then you’d told him last night your cramps were unbearable, so he knew you were on your period, but right now he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out himself. 

“It’s okay, everything is fine. The drop in estrogen and progesterone, following your ovulation triggered this. This in turn reduced the production of serotonin, your happy hormone. So, we just need to boost it a bit.” He whispered into your ear as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How?” You sighed into his chest, almost being able to pick up on the sound of his heartbeat.

He got deep in thought for a few seconds as you breathed in his scent, and a sense of calmness slowly overtook you now that he was home and holding you. One of his hands was running soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand, fingers interlocked. 

“How about we take a trip to the store and get you some snacks? We’ll pick up dinner on the way home and then I'll hold you some more and you'll pick a movie for us to watch.” He suggested, kissing the crown of your head once, twice, and many more times until you gave him an answer. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think that would help, but just having you here has done wonders.” You finally laid your head against his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled, and so did you. Having him here really had helped immensely, and when had it not? He was your other half, your rock, and even when your emotions ran rampant or you were feeling down, just his presence, his touch, and his understanding were enough to make it all okay. 

Later in the evening, Penelope sent you a photo of Sergio sleep-hugging a little plushy you’d gotten him, and the waterworks started all over again. Luckily, Spencer was there, wiping your tears and kissing your head, saying a thousand things without actually speaking a word.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Requests are open for both Spencer and Hotch if you want to send any!

[laurashapiro-noreally]

Good Omens S2 fic recs

Need something good to read?

it's written all over by @et-in-arkadia, who never fails to grab me by the throat. Aziraphale comes back that very night and gives Crowley exactly what he wants...sort of. (E)

A Million Times by @chamyl. A breathless, tender reconciliation with excellent Muriel in. (E)

Not for All My Little Words by @mia-ugly and soft_october. For everyone who wants to see Aziraphale apologize. A lot. (E)

I'll Wait by @copperplatebeech. Could've chosen any of a dozen of Copper's sharp, shrewd pieces. Whether you like them funny, aching, hot, or tender, she's got your number -- often all at once. This one's (T)

A Bit of a Gray Area by @princip1914. Look, I for one was waiting for bad angry standing-up sex in a bathroom. The fact that it's one of my favorite authors providing it is the icing on my eccles cakes. (E)

(Do eccles cakes have icing? Is the E in eccles capitalized? I am not doing research for this Tumblr post.)

Five First Kisses And One [5+1 Things] by @werpiper. If you need to believe that there were many kisses before That One, this is a great story to enjoy, and if you need to believe they were banging through history, @werpiper is a great writer to get acquainted with. (E)

in the french fashion by @giddygeek. Were you wanting that 1941 "something I can do for you" hot, romantic, in-character, and intellectually intriguing? Step right up. (E)

the soft animal of your body by @focusfixated. A short but powerful take on the ox rib situation. (E)

An Invitation to Dance by @lavraiemonchichi. Another short take. What if the apology dance, but kinky? (E)

Covenant of Salt by @twwings. Make it long, make it deep, do it in the dark. Hard, complicated like fine wine. Yeah, that's the way I like it. Get acquainted with twings, she's dynamite in this or any other fandom (ask me about her MCU novel!).(E)

the two shepherds of uruk by @inkatesbush. WHAT a story, OMG. A slow burn in the context of the Tower of Babel. These two hardly know one another, but they'll learn, oh, they'll learn. Agile prose, storytelling like a blow to the solar plexus. (E)

White on White by @twilightcitysky. What could be a more appropriate erotic awakening for Aziraphale than a sad wank in Heaven? Well, I could tell you, but you'd have more fun if you read this story and its sequels. (E)

The Butterfly Effect by @plaidadder. A master storyteller at the top of their game, this Doctor Who crossover works even if you don't know Doctor Who and aren't excited about crossovers. Why? Because what could be more satisfying than putting Aziraphale and Crowley in a time loop until they work out their nonsense? I'll tell you what: humor, stunningly romantic prose, Revelations-inspired eldritch horrors, and happy endings for everyone. (T)

Have fun and don't forget to leave comments!

[cillianhead]

A New Pair of Glasses || Cillian Murphy x Reader

Part One! Part Two!

summary: When Y/N watches the Batman trilogy for the first time with her friends... she returns home to Cillian with a newfound sense of longing for a certain Dr. Jonathan Crane.

warnings: SMUT, DUBCON!, CNC themes!!!, unprotected P in V, oral sex (f and m receiving), analplay, FAKE DRUG USE! (Cillian gives reader a sugar pill and says it's a sedative (all consensual; reader is aware of the fact it's not a real sedative.)) minor alcohol use / drunk, age gap (reader is college age while Cillian is in his mid-to-late 40s), swearing, daddy kink, sir/doctor kink, breeding kink, praise kink, degradation, vulgar language, sort of a sugar daddy + sugar baby dynamic, slapping, roleplay, dacryphilia, edging, overstimulation, squirting, sex toys (dildo and vibrator), use of electric shocks for sexual pleasure (Cillian uses some sort of mild toy that zaps you), use of restraints, fake cheating scenario, sort of vague allusions that Cillian is gonna push her off a balcony but I'd like to stress the words VAGUE ALLUSIONS!! adult content ahead!!

LONG FIC ?!?!

(I wrote this while listening to Eat Your Young by Hozier :-))

18+ Minors DNI

"This your man?" Your friend Gabriel snickered as you all sat around eating popcorn and other various junk foods.

"Yeah... yeah..." You roll your eyes playfully before popping a few popcorn kernels into your mouth. You felt horribly flustered and hot despite the cold weather outside.

"Genuinely can't believe you've never seen these movies before," Your friend Mia, Sasha's girlfriend, remarks from the couch. The film was paused on a particular scene of Dr. Jonathan Crane with a gavel in hand. "Especially since your boyfriend is in it..." She said teasingly. "I can't believe he's your boyfriend!"

You just giggled and shyly smiled. You had binge-watched all the movies, and now you were on the last one. You couldn't express the emotions you were feeling right now. A deep carnal sensation was lighting you on fire within as they continued the scene. Though he was only in it for a short amount of time, you found yourself zoning out and fantasizing about Jonathan Crane and what it would be like to fuck him.

The movie ended, and by now, it was nearing midnight. You hadn't planned on staying the night at Sasha's, so you stood back up and collected your things. A driver was picking you up in about ten minutes, so you sat around with your three best friends and talked about your plans for the rest of the weekend and all that.

"What's your boyfriend up to?" Gabriel asked with a knowing smile on their face.

"Oh, he's gone to the pub to watch the footy with a couple of his buddies," You beamed. You couldn't explain it, but the idea of Cillian out and having fun with a couple of pints of Guinness in some little pub, having a blast, and laughing with his mates was unbelievably cute. It made you feel all blushy and dumb, the kind of dumb a schoolgirl would get at seeing her favorite charming teacher. "Not sure if he's home yet, and I haven't really wanted to bother him tonight. It's his first time seeing his friends in a while... since he and I are basically together all the time." You giggled, fiddling with the hem of your shorts.

"This is your first time seeing us in forever too!" Sasha squeeled with that laugh of hers, throwing a cushion at you.

"Ow, hey!" You pouted as you pretended to soothe your arm.

"You know it's true," Sasha sassed. "You two are joined at the hip... but we're not mad, we just miss you... but we're so happy for you and your sugar daddy- *cough* sorry, boyfriend." Sasha joked, and you all burst out laughing.

"He's not my sugar daddy..." You bit your lip, stifling the laughs ready to erupt from you. "I mean, like... he is... like that's how it first started, but he's more than that now..." You bit your tongue and rubbed your heel on the ground with a reclusive and cheeky smile. "I think I'm gonna marry him..." You grinned.

"Oh! You are not... we haven't even fucking met him!" Gabriel snapped, cackling. "Why can't we meet him?" "Oh, come on, I want you guys to meet him, and he wants to meet you... I'm just nervous..." You mused.

"What? Do you think he's gonna hate us?" Sasha asked while sipping her margarita that she bragged about being able to make herself.

"No... it's just..." You hesitated, looking down at your lap. "You guys are very different types of people. I think it's likely to clash in a strange and complicated way." Gabriel nodded their head understandingly. "Like you guys are gonna meet! But I just don't know exactly how... he's a very lowkey guy and likes quiet settings, whereas you guys... wanna go do something fun and exciting and a bit loud... and that's fine! I love both of those things... and Cillian's all weird and cute and awkward when he meets new people, especially in loud places..."

"Oh hush, we get it... we'll meet when the time is right," Sasha smiled. "As long as we meet before the wedding though, like-"

"Oh shit, my driver's here, I gotta go. He's been waiting for two minutes already..." You hurriedly got up and gave Gabriel and Sasha big hugs.

"Who are you with your private drivers?!" Sasha giggled before leaning on Gabriel with loving smirks.

"Bye!" You yelled before quickly rushing out the door with both your shopping bags from the day of shopping you had with your two mates.

You had met up for brunch, which turned into "a quick trip to the mall" to try on about fifteen different pairs of clothes in six other clothing stores. After that, you returned to Sasha and her girlfriend's place and hung out with the three of them for a while. Sasha's girlfriend was a massive nerd with posters of Evil Dead, Five Nights at Freddie's, Hatsune Miku, and many other fun, dorky things. It was when someone brought up Batman that Sasha's girlfriend, Mia, would begin to lose her mind. You both chatted about it, and she told you all about the different Batman villains and then subsequently mentioned The Scarecrow.

"That's Y/N's boyfriend!" Gabriel said as they took off their makeup in the mirror.

Sasha and Gabriel then had to explain to Mia that you were dating the actor who played the scarecrow in the Christopher Nolan Batman films. It was funny seeing Mia's reaction, and you talked a bit more until you mentioned that you hadn't seen them, and then they all decided on a movie night.

And now you sat in the back seat of a black car, leaning your head against the window. You were excited to see Cillian again. You had missed him all day. The streets were busy, full of people coming out of pubs. Everyone was watching the footy today, so it made sense that it was more crowded than usual. As you slowly pushed through traffic, you closed your eyes and fell asleep to the sound of the busy streets and passing cars.

A few hours had passed and everything was quiet now.

"Y/N, honey, you're home," The driver gently shook you awake. "Time to wake up, sleepyhead." You smiled with your eyes closed at the older man and slowly slipped out of the car with your things.

"Thanks for waking me up, Jim," You said kindly. "Has Cillian already paid you for tonight?" "Yes, with a hefty tip as always," Jim croaked happily as he made his way back to the driver's seat. "You have a good night, Miss. Y/N."

"Thank you, drive safely, please!" You yelled as you unlocked the door to your shared home with Cillian. All the lights were off so you figured Cillian hadn't made it home yet.

You sighed and set down all your bags once you entered your bedroom. You got changed into one of Cillian's shirts and a pair of comfy sleep shorts and slipped your headphones on. You stood out on the balcony with a slight smile on your moonlit face. A cup of chamomile was cradled in your hands as you listened to soft music and waited for your beloved boyfriend to get home.

You couldn't stop thinking about him, though. Jonathan Crane had ravaged your mind. Just the thought of him made you squeeze a little. How he looked and acted, it was like every cell in your body was lit on fire with desire for the fictional character. Of course, the main reason you found him so sexy was because it was Cillian. But that was well over a decade ago now, and Cillian had aged beautifully since then. The thought of an older 'dilfier' version of Crane made you weak in the knees.

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a familiar arm snaking its way around your waist and a loving kiss placed on your shoulder.

"Hey, darling," Cillian whispered as you pulled your headphones off. He held you in his arms and swayed you slowly. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and you grinned, knowing he was probably a bit buzzed. "Missed you while I was out." "Mmm, yeah?" You hum, setting your tea down on the small glass table beside you before wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying with him softly. "How much?"

"So much," He slurred, pushing his face into your neck and groaning at your sweet smell. "Fuckin' thought about you all night long, even when me' team won." "Your team won?!" You exclaimed gleefully. "That's great, Cillian!" "Yeah, yeah," He shook his head with a blush on his face. "They won by a landslide." He was so cute when he blushed. "Oh, my lovely boy," You praised sweetly and leaned in, kissing him deeply. Cillian moaned into the kiss as his hands slid down to rest on your ass., giving it a loving squeeze. "I've been waitin' for you, Daddy." You whispered with a string of spit tying your lips together.

He snarled a bit at the nickname. "Oh yeah, baby?" He huffed with a one-sided grin. A smug look on his face as the dynamic immediately changed, and he pressed your back against the wooden railing with a sadistic smirk. "What you've been waitin' for?" He whispered gravelly in your ear, his hips pressed into yours to make you feel his hard dick through his trousers.

"I..." You trembled, mouth helplessly falling open with shyness.

"Was it my cock?" He hummed, fingers sliding up from your arm to grip your quivering jaw heavily. He slapped you across the face, but not enough to bruise, just to leave a constant sting. You whined, and another slap was given. "Tell me... baby... I know you can feel how fuckin' hard I am right now, so tell me all about how you're cunt is drippin' f'me." He grunted, letting go of your jaw and lining his hips up with yours with his palms roughly grappling at your ass to pull your barely-clothed pussy right against his fucking hard cock.

"Daddy..." You whispered breathlessly and helplessly. The way he was pushing you back against the balcony caused you to lean over the edge ever so slightly. It was frightening. You knew Jonathan- *I mean* Cillian would never push you off the balcony. But the thrill was enticing as he looked at you hungrily.

"Don't be coy with me now, little girl," Cillian smiled a toothy and mischievous grin. "I remember all the times you've had the mouth of a pornstar, spewing dirty t'ings for yer daddy," He pressed his nose into your neck, cupping the back of your head as he leaned you against the balcony.

"Please fuck me...." You gasped, grinding yourself on his erection. He groaned and grabbed you harder, this time away from the balcony and back inside. You were gripping his shirt feverishly, trying not to fall over. He pushed you down onto the bed with a grunt and kicked his socks and shoes off before undoing his belt and ripping off his top layers. "Oh, daddy..." You whispered, spreading your legs open as you pulled your shorts down and your thong with it. Cillian leaned down, grabbed your black thong, and raised it to his nose and mouth, smelling it like a feral dog.

"Fuckin' hell," He exhaled before dropping to his knees before you, at eye level with your wet pussy. "I'm so hungry..." He nipped your inner thighs, slowly lowering closer to your heat.

"Please... eat me... Daddy, oh my god," You mewled as you raised your pussy to his drooling mouth and tongue. "Fuck, oh!" You exclaimed as you arched your back, digging your fingers into his hair and pressing his face into your cunt. He ate you up like a cornucopia of fruit and slurped you up with his tongue.

"S'good," Cillian groaned, muffled by your cunt in his mouth. Your arousal and his spit dribbling down his pretty chin, his eyes looking desperately up at you, as you rest back on your arms and cry with euphoria.

"Oh... Cill.... oh... daddy..." You moaned, hair spread across your face and mouth. You were too lost in the pleasure. Slowly rutting your pussy into his face, head lolling from side to side with the dizziness of your impending orgasm. "Gonna cum... baby... gonna cum..."

"Give it t'me," Cillian grunted, eyes fluttering shut as he focused his tongue particularly on your throbbing clit; occasionally slipping it down to lap at your soaking cunt. His nose was pressed into your mound, hardly breathing, too focused on the sweet euphoria of eating your pussy. In his usually busy and complicated mind, his brain had now gone radio silent, and it was exactly like he was high. You were a drug to him. You came undone, gushing into his awaiting mouth.

Your eyes rolled back into your brain, loud mewls as you fell back onto your shoulders and gripped at the sheets. You were near to tears with how good he ate you out. As he lapped up your sweet cum, you writhed, squeezing your thighs around his head and fingers tugging painfully hard on the roots of his hair.

"Okay, Cillian..." You exasperated, panting heavily. "That's enough." He pulled away like a slobbering dog, cum and saliva making a string of spit on his chin and your sopping cunt.

"Fuck me, baby..." He whispered, pupils blown wide like he had taken ecstasy. "You taste so good..." He hummed as he crawled up to you and kissed you hard, tasting yourself on his stroking tongue. His cock was out by now, painfully hard and ready to be stuck in your cunt. "Please let me fuck you now..." He said breathily against your lips. "Please..."

"Daddy... please... need you inside me," You bit your lip as the tip of his cock nudged your clit. "Don't tease me..."

"Course not, darlin'," He mumbled deeply, right by your ear as he slung one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his waist. "Why would I tease my darling girl?" He pressed himself fully into you, making you go cross-eyed.

"Ooohh..." You mewled softly. The air had been knocked out of your lungs. It felt like you would explode in the most beautiful way possible. His cock was snug against your cervix, every ridge of him pressing against your hot and wet walls. You shut your eyes, shaking as he began pulling out of you slowly before jutting back into you.

"Best fuckin' pussy," He growled, picking up the pace of his thrusts. "Best one I've had..."

"You're mine," You gasped out, drunk on his cock already. You reached out and grabbed him by the throat, pulling him into a teeth-clashing kiss. "All mine, daddy." You pressed your heel into his lower back as you pulled away from the kiss to look at his face above yours. You looked up at him with your dizzy eyes and lips spilling out drool, desperate to hear him say the words you had on your mind.

"I'm all yours, Y/N," He panted, fucking you roughly and desperately. You went at it like rabbits, desperate to be bred. "I'm yours... forever..." He connected his soft lips to yours and made you fall in love all over again as you made out. He was still a bit drunk, and he usually came a bit quickly when he was but you didn't mind.

"You gonna cum in me?" You moaned, rocking your hips against his. His hands slid up and cradled you by your ribcage as he manhandled you to seamlessly get speared by his cock.

"Y-Yeah, course," He panted, eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of you. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum..." "That's it, Daddy," You moaned, reaching up and pulling on his hair as you kissed him. His cum instantly squirted into you as you squeezed around him and danced your tongue against his. "Fuck, feels so good... fill me up..." You mewled, pressing yourself against him as your orgasm washed over you too.

Cillian was silent, face pressed into the side of your cheek with his mouth agape in quiet moans, his veins popping out of his forehead. "Oh baby girl, oh fuck..." He whispered, all whiny, into your ear. He still pathetically rutted his hips into you, filling you with as much cum as possible.

Drool fell down your chin as you convulsed in his arms. He quickly pulled off of you, not wanting to become overstimulated, and you still lay there, writhing a bit as your orgasm slowly dissipated. Cillian pressed a flush kiss to your warm cheek, laying on his side and wrapping you up in his big arms.

"You did so good for me, baby," Cillian whispered sweetly as you blinked slowly at him. "Such a good girl, knows how to take cock so well," He smiled at you knowingly, brushing your hair with his fingers.

"Cillian..." You hummed with a sleepy smile. "Get me some underwear please... don't want to lose any of your cum..."

Cillian smirked, quickly getting up and rushing to your drawer where you kept all your panties and other lingerie items. He picked out a baby pink pair of panties and brought them over to you, sliding it slowly up your legs and getting a glimpse of your creamy pussy.

"How pretty, a little bow..." He chuckled, fiddling with the white bow at the top of your underwear. Cillian crawled into your shared bed with you. He pulled you into his arms, and you lay there with happy smiles, getting warm from the covers. You lie in comfortable silence for a while, nuzzling your heads together and cherishing the feeling of having your bodies together again. It felt healing. It truly felt like you had found your other half. You knew you had.

"Do you need a glass of water or anything?" Cillian asks with that lovely Irish accent of his.

"No, it's okay, just need you to hold me, Cill... I'm tired," You whispered with a smile, thumb brushing his cheekbone. "I need your arms around me to feel sane..." "Such a poet," Cillian snickered, kissing your forehead and pulling you closer. "What'd you get up to today, sweet t'ing?" He asked, running his fingertips gently up and down your back. It was almost ticklish.

"Well, the brunch was really nice with Sasha and Gabby," You recalled softly, fingers fiddling with the chain around his neck. "Then Sasha wanted to go get something from the mall.... so we went to the mall, and I did some shopping too... while I was there."

"Oooo... shopping? Tell me whatcha got, love." Cillian cooed excitedly, wriggling with anticipation. Cillian had given you a credit card with a pretty high limit, paid by his money. He was pretty much entirely financially supporting you. You felt terrible at first, but you realized quickly that he got off on the idea of you spoiling yourself with his money. So you'd treat yourself to nice things while treating him to very nice things simultaneously. Pretty much every shopping trip, you'd buy something sexy for Cillian to rip off of you. "Did ya get me anythin'?" "Mhm," You whispered, poking his chest knowingly. "Can I see it?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Nope, not until tomorrow..." You smirked, pecking him on the lips. "I want to keep you on your toes."

"Alright, woman, whatever you please... just as long as I see ya in it..." Cillian chuckled, nudging your nose with his. He enjoyed it when you showed off what you bought, especially the clothes. He'd make you do a little fashion show in his living room. "What else did ya do?" "Oh, then we went back to Sasha's place..." You trailed off for a moment, trying to recall everything that happened. "Had a bit of dinner... then we just watched some movies." You smiled while Jonathan Crane's face flashed inside your head.

"What movies did you watch?" He asked curiously, fingers twirling your hair around it. He could see you were quickly becoming flustered but he wasn't quite sure why. "What? What is it? What did you watch?" He laughed.

"We watched... we watched..." You giggled, leaning in and pressing your face into his chest. "The Batman movies..." You snickered, rolling around and laughing wildly. Cillian had a stunned and amused look on his face as he watched you wriggle around and laugh your lungs out.

"The ones I'm in, ya mean?" He asked, chuckling a bit with a red face. He was worried you were laughing at him. "Y-Yes!" You said with a loud laugh. You were laughing because of how fucking sexually attracted you are to him as Jonathan Crane. There was something so sexy about him as this cunning, tricky little Batman villain. "Oh my god..." "I didn't think I did too bad in those films..." He whispered bashfully, looking down at his lap a bit self-consciously. "Did yer friends also think it was silly?" Your laughing quickly dissipated as you realized Cillian had taken your laughing the wrong way. You quickly sat up and scooted closer to him with wide eyes. "No, no, no... I'm not... I'm not laughing at it... Cillian... you were brilliant... they're fuckin' brilliant films... it's just..." You trailed off, biting your lip as you giggled a bit more thinking about Jonathan Crane.

"It's just what?" He asked, still with a disappointed and sad look in his eyes.

"You were so...." You whispered, pressing your face into his chest and laughing into his warm skin. "He's so hot!" You blurted out.

"What?" He laughed, thinking you're talking about Christian Bale.

"Cillian," You sat up, looking him directly into his eyes, and he could tell you were seriously about to say to him how sexually attracted you were to Batman. "You as the scarecrow... as Dr. Jonathan Crane... fuuuuuccckk..." You rolled your eyes back into your head, teeth tightly clenching down on your bottom lip.

"O-Oh!" Cillian smiled, face growing red for many different reasons and eyes lighting up. "You really thought so?"

"Cillian, I want to fuck him so bad," You gasped, pressing your nose into his face.

"It's funny how yer referring to me as him," He laughed, wrapping you up in his arms. You were both more in a sitting position now, looking at each other's grinning faces.

"No, like... obviously... it's you... and that's mainly why I find Jonathan so sexy... but just the way... you played the character... he's so fucking convincing and so attractive... like... I want him."

Cillian raised a brow before kissing you softly. "Well, y'have me..."

"I know, baby... I don't want anyone else but you," You reassured sweetly. "Just think the characters you play... are so handsome... want them all to fuck me..."

Cillian blushed, kissing you again, this time a little longer and sloppier. Eventually, after you two managed to pull off each other, you brushed your teeth side by side, and Cillian watched you wash your face and moisturize. You'd then turn to him and ask to put some on him, and he would hesitantly let you, all while pretending to not enjoy the attention.

Falling asleep was easy in Cillian's arms. Ever since you met him, every night without him was sleepless. There was just nothing quite like having him hold you. You had passed out, unbeknownst to Cillian, reaching his arm out for his phone and quickly ordering some things online and then lying back down with you again to sleep with a smug smirk on his face.

In the late morning, you two woke up around the same time. Cillian woke up only a few minutes before you did. He watched you beautifully sleep.

"Good mornin'," He grumbled with that morning voice of his. "How'd you sleep, sleeping beauty?"

"Oh, hush," You shook your head, covering your face as you rubbed your eyes. "I feel like I look like an ogre," You laughed, sitting up a bit. "I slept amazing... as usual... how about you, my lovely man?" You reached out, stroking along his stubbled jaw.

"Perfectly fine," He nodded, sitting up with you, sheets barely covering his naked manhood. Your hands slipped the sheets from his pelvis to reveal his morning wood. "Mmm... didn't say you could do that..." He smirked, eyes watching as you lowered your face down to kiss his hard cock.

"Love you so much, just wanna make you feel good..." You mumbled as you fit the tip in your mouth. You wrapped your fingers around the base as you sucked on his leaky tip.

"Fuckin' hell," Cillian sighed, throwing his head back as you teased him. And then you fully sank your mouth down on his cock until his thick head was prodding at the back of your throat. "That's it, love... I love you so much... you're so fuckin' good to me."

You hummed around his cock as he lazily lay there and enjoyed the feeling of your mouth on him. You slowly sucked him to the brink of cumming, popping off of him right before the climax.

"Why'd you stop?" He whined, reaching to grab a hold of his cock, but you quickly swatted his hand away. "Hey!"

"You're not allowed to cum," You stated simply, not elaborating any further.

"What? Why?" He laughed incredulously. He kept trying to reach for his erection, but you smacked his hand away every time.

"You're just not," You looked at him stubbornly. "Not until later. I want to show you something really cute and slutty I got for you yesterday... and I want you to be absolutely desperate..." Cillian groaned out of frustration. "Fine, if that's what it takes to make my girl happy," He reached a hand up and stroked your hair affectionately, yet with a sense of irritation.

"And don't even think about trying anything in our shower," You murmured as you both got up and wandered into your shower. "You can't get yourself off."

"So goddamn bossy," Cillian grumbled teasingly as you turned on the hot shower, and both stood underneath it. Cillian was in agony with his throbbing cock. And it didn't help that you stood right against one another. The hot water and your ass pressing against him was nearly enough to make him burst without even doing anything. You knew what you were doing to him.

The shower was long and tiring, and eventually, Cillian's dick softened on its own, but that didn't deny the sexual frustration within him. Cillian made the two of you breakfast, and you ate with a smug smirk on your face.

"Gotta run some errands today, love," Cillian hummed while chewing his scrambled eggs. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Oh, can I come with?" You asked with your head perked up.

"Actually, could you stay home?" He asked while cutting his food to take another bite. "I have an important package coming later that needs to be signed for... plus it's just boring stuff anyway, just some meetings and all that stuff you don't care about."

"Oh, okay! That's alright," You smiled, your plate now cleared. "I'll stay here."

Cillian got ready while you sat on the lounge, watching your favorite show. Cillian hurriedly walked into the living room and sat down beside you. You paused the TV and looked at him with a sad smile.

"I'm gonna miss you while you're out," You whispered, kissing him softly on the cheek. "You not shaving?" You hummed when you noticed he still had some stubble lining his jaw.

"I know, baby love," He murmured, his hand caressing your thigh. "Nah, I think I'm gonna grow out my beard a lil'... I'm gonna be gone for a little while... probably won't be back until this evening..."

"Oh..." You frowned, pouting at him as he placed his hands on either side of your face.

"Don't worry," He whispered, pecking you softly on your pouty lips. "You've got a gift comin' today," He hummed, and you raised your eyebrows curiously. "It's a little treat from me. You can go on and open it without me. I know how impatient you can get..."

"Really?" You said ecstatically. "Thank you, Cillian... I'm sure I'm gonna love it." You reached out and wrapped your arms tightly around him.

"Oh, you will," He whispered into your ear. "You're gonna really fuckin' like it."

You and Cillian shared one last loving kiss as you walked him to the door. You watched him go with a longing sigh before turning around and wondering what you were gonna do for the day. Cillian never specified when your gift was showing up.

For a while, you bundled up on the couch and watched some more TV, but eventually, you grew restless and wandered into your bedroom and tried on your new set of lacy white lingerie. You look angelic in the most sinful way possible. You planned on acting all submissive and obedient for Cillian tonight, and you wanted to look everything pure and innocent for your daddy. The lace and tight straps hugged you beautifully and exemplified your curves. The back of it was just one thin G-string sitting between your ass... And, of course, two baby pink bows strapped on either side of your hips. Not to be despite the thin lace front where you could easily see your pretty wet pussy through.

The top piece of the set was a small white corset laced up with bows and soft, sweet velvet. The busk straps on either side of your darling shoulders were adorned with cute patterned lace and tiny little bows... and made your tits look fucking amazing. Oh, you were adorable and simply undeniably fuckable-looking. His cock would look at you before even his eyes had, and before he knew it, his cocks got a brain, and it's leading him straight to you.

A soft garter belt attached to the tops of your translucently cotton stockings that went up to your thighs. Everything was perfect and handmade and expensive. So you decided to just keep it on and surprise him like this when he gets home. While you pranced around the living room, sipping your freshly made tea. A sweet milky early grey, soothing your inner qualms and exciting you even more at the thought of Cillian coming home.

It was around 2 PM now, and you figured Cillian wouldn't be home for another couple of hours, so the distinct sound of Cillian's car coming up the driveway made you frown. What happened? You were worried something terrible happened and didn't bother putting any clothes on since you knew it was just Cillian. A knock at the door made you frown and pause in your footsteps.

"Delivery!" Cillian yelled with an American accent. You giggled, thinking it was just him messing around, and so you quickly unlocked the door to the most shocking sight.

Cillian stood there in a nice slimming suit, the same kind that Jonathan Crane wore. And the sight of his hair styled how it was in Batman, and the classic glasses and briefcase clutched in hand, you felt like you were going to pass out.

"My... what a skimpy little outfit you've got on, sweetheart," He grumbled, lifting up a tiny little teal-colored Tiffany&Co gift bag with a little note that said 'From Cillian, xxx' and you realized that was his gift. "Ran into your cute boyfriend... by the way."

"What do you mean, Cillian?" You whispered, taking tiny steps back as he walked slowly and creepily towards you until your back hit the wall.

"I know we may look similar..." He whispered, grabbing you roughly by your chin. "But I think you know exactly who I am," He said raspily into your ear. His American accent sends you into overdrive. "Cillian... huh... well, he's not here right now, Ms. Y/N." He growled, grabbing ahold of one of your tits through your lingerie.

"Wh-Wha..." You couldn't comprehend what was happening. Cillian was doing such a convincing act at being Jonathan Crane it made you forget it was actually him.

Jonathan grabbed a hold of you, and you hit and squealed as he threw you over his shoulders. Fuck, he was so strong. He placed a harsh smack on your ass and shoved you roughly down onto the bed so you were looking up at him. His hair is a bit messed up now, and his glasses sitting lowly on his nose. It really was him, you had convinced yourself. It's Jonathan Crane.

"Too bad your little boyfriend's not gonna see what I'm gonna do to you," He growled as he tugged a bit on your underwear, pulling you into a sitting position. "Let's say... Cillian and I had a little deal, and this was my end... of the bargain per se.... think I know a better way to treat this sickness of yours..."

"Where is Cillian...?" You asked with quivering lips. He stood with two legs slotted in between your bare ones. He was even wearing a different cologne, and you noticed he had shaved to look younger.

"Oh baby, you don't wanna know," He smirked, briefly brushing your cheek before placing his black briefcase beside you on the bed. "Your boyfriend mentioned some concerns about your well-being, so he sent me here to check on you..." Jonathan had a smug smirk on his face as he unlocked his briefcase, pulling out a small packet of pills. "Now, I'm here to make you feel better..." He popped out a pill and placed it in the palm of his hand. "Open wide, princess..." He mused.

"Wha-What is it?" As you hesitantly opened your mouth and let him place the small white pill right on your tongue. He leaned down and had his mouth right next to your ear.

"Just a sugar pill," Cillian whispered in his Irish accent again. "Pretend it's a sedative... you can always say the safe word at any time, angel. I love you." He placed a kiss against your cheek before pulling away with that cold demeanor of Jonathan Crane again. You dry swallowed the pill. "That's a good girl," He hummed, shutting his briefcase. You caught a glimpse of a rather large dildo and a few other sex toys. "You'll feel real good in about ten minutes. Now I want you to get nice and spread out for me so I can fuck you."

You scrambled back up onto the bed and spread your legs wide open with trembling lips. "But... I have a boyfriend... you're not my boyfriend..."

"No, sweetie," He shook his head, chuckling as he kicked off his shoes and undid his coat. "But your stupid boyfriend doesn't have to know a thing about what happens tonight."

"N-No..." You shut your legs and quickly got out of the bed to run.

"Oh no, you fucking don't," He barked, grabbing you by your ankle and pulling you back towards him like you were just a sack of meat. "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to tie you to the bed if you're even gonna think about trying to get away from me."

"Jonatha-"

"Doctor or sir to you, bitch," He slapped you harshly across the face and pulled out ankle and wrist restraints. "Get in position, don't make me force you."

"Yes, sir..." You said with your eyes down and crawling up the bed to be in a position where you could be tied up. Jonathan firmly put the cuffs on your ankles and your wrists, chaining you to the bed frame from both sides. "Please don't hurt me..."

"Please don't hurt me," He mocked in a high-pitched voice. "I'm gonna do whatever I please to you." He hissed, pulling your ass into his clothed cunt. "How cute you wore this for your boyfriend... so pathetic." "He... He likes them..."

"Oh, I'm sure he does," He cackled his menacing laugh. "Too bad he's never gonna see you in it. Think I'm gonna have to keep you for myself." "What do you mean?" You whimpered, pulling a bit at your restraints.

"It's just gonna be me and you for now, baby... your boyfriend's not comin' back... what a shame..." He unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. You tried your best to pull away from him as he crawled on top of you but you couldn't go very far with your limited mobility.

"Fuck... I think... I think the medicine is kicking in..." You whined as you felt Jonathan pull down your panties but kept everything else in place. He wanted to fuck you with your cute skimpy lingerie on. Cillian had truly put himself in the mindset of this character as he pulled his cock out and grabbed at your thighs roughly. Your eyes drooped a bit but Jonathan quickly snapped you out of it by shoving his cock in you harshly.

"Bet you're still full of his cum, aren't you?" Jonathan grunted as you squeezed around him, unbelievably wet. "What a fucking whore."

"Doctor... please..." You cried, thrusting your hips up into him. "Please don't do this... this isn't right.. my... my... boyfriend... will find out-"

"Oh shut the fuck up," He spat, fucking you like you were just some fleshlight. "You're mine now, slut... gonna fuckin use you for all my experiments and fuck you while you're cowering in fear under my toxins."

"Pl-Please..." Tears slipped out from your eyes. "I'm not on the pill... please stop..." You lied and pulled at your restraints, trying to get free.

"Oh fuck, even better," He moaned. "Gonna get you pregnant and show your loving boyfriend what we fuckin' did... he'll see what an easy slut you are..." Jonathan's voice was cold and mean, but it made you moan so much louder and shake with pleasure as you came around him. "Told you so... look at you cumming already on my dick when I just put it in you."

"N-No..." You whimpered, tears streaming down your face. That only made him fuck you harder and deeper into you. He was getting off on your crying. "Please... you can't..." Your body had gone limp at this point. He showed no signs of stopping, fucking your spasming cunt.

"Poor little thing," He ran his thumb sweetly over your wet cheeks with a smug smirk. "Pretending like you're not just some cum-hungry slut."

You mewled and fought against your restraints as he somehow managed to make you cum again. You were so fucking turned on that your body gave in to the pleasure so easily and quickly. "Too much... too much... sir..." You wailed, trying to shut your legs, but that only made him pin those down as he continued fucking you. You thought about how you had edged Cillian earlier, so you imagined that this probably was his revenge.

"Go on and take my cum then, whore," Jonathan groaned as he spurt cum deep inside of you, further intensifying your orgasm. Jonathan grunted ferociously, cum filling you to the brim as he shook with the pleasure he was experiencing.

"Oh..." You squeaked, shutting your eyes as you twitched.

He pulled out of you, squirting a bit more cum out onto your swollen clit and watching it drip down and meet the rest of your sperm-filled hole. Jonathan seemed pleased with his creation as he slipped his fogged-up glasses off and wiped them clean before sliding them back on.

"Doctor...." You whispered, heaving as he stood up and undid your restraints. "Thank you..." You whispered, rubbing your sore ankles and wrists. "Pl-Please don't tell my boyfriend about this." Jonathan scoffed and rolled his eyes as he tucked his cock back into his underwear.

"I'm not finished with you yet, sweetheart," Jonathan whispered, leaning in and biting your neck. You whimpered and grabbed ahold of him as he left marks on your neck.

"No! Don't mark... don't mark me..." You tried to pull him off of you, but he wouldn't budge. It only made him bite you harder. "Jonathan... he'll see..."

"Good, I want him to see what a nasty slut you are," He growled, biting down harder.

You shoved him off of you and, with no underwear on, ran down the hall to get away from him. But you heard footsteps pounding down the hallway after you ominously, not at a very fast pace.

"Oh, you can run, but you can't hide sweetheart," He chuckled as he slowly walked around and acted as if he couldn't see you hiding behind one of the floor-length curtains. The tops of your feet poked out from underneath. "Hmm... where'd you go? I won't hurt you." It was creepy how convinced you were it was anyone other than your Cillian. In a way, you were truly horrified of him finding you. His American accent remains steady and strong.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt a hand wrap tightly around your arm and yank you out of your horrible hiding spot. "Stupid little girl... trying to hide from me..." He looked pissed as he dragged you to the center of the living room, where he shoved you down on your knees. "I have an idea..." He smirked, a glimmer of mischief flickering through his cold eyes. "Let's see what your sweet little daddy got you... hmm? Stay here on your knees... or I swear to fuckin' god..." He said through gritted teeth before sauntering off in only his underwear and glasses.

When he returns, it's with that familiar Tiffany&Co bag clutched in his hands. "How generous of your daddy to buy this for you... too bad he's not here to put it on you..." Jonathan hummed as he opened the gift for you.

"D-Don't... it's not... it's not yours..."

"You're right, sweetheart," He smirked before tearing open the bag, and a small box came out, the same shade of teal. He opened the package as he towered over you, your knees aching from digging into the hardwood floors. Your eyebrows knitted together as he pulled out a delicate silver chain and the most beautiful pendant you'd ever seen. "Lift your hair up for me, baby girl," Jonathan leaned down as you lifted up your hair and clasped the chain around your neck. It sat perfectly along your collarbones, and the bright ruby stood out against your complexion beautifully. "Does it look nice on me?" You asked quietly, noticing Jonathan's cock straining against his briefs once again.

"Yeah, you look nice and pretty," He grunted, pulling down the waistband of his shorts and began fisting his cock at the sight of you. "Too bad he's not here to see you right now, hmmm?" He moaned a little as he stroked his cock, quickly slapping you across the face with it before pressing it against your lips. "Suck."

Hesitantly you opened your mouth, and without much warning, he thrusted his hips until his cock hit the back of your throat. One of his hands held your hair in a messy ponytail while also pushing you up and down on his dick. He looked at you with that sickening smile, glasses drooping low on his nose, and his hair falling over his forehead.

"Fuck, that's it," He huffed out, fucking your head like it was just a mere toy to him. "Now I see why he keeps you around..." He sighed, tossing his head back and thriving in the feeling of your lips wrapped around his sensitive cock. "You're a good little cocksucker... that's your use."

Tears fell with every quick blink you gave him, eyes stinging from the saltiness. With every thrust into your throat, you'd gag, and more tears would fill the brim of your eyelids. You were viewing the most delicious view of his stomach and chest as well as the muscular bicep holding your head in place.

"Gonna cum all over your pathetic little face," Jonathan grunted with absolutely no concern for how you were doing. Of course, you could always give him three quick taps on the hip to say that's enough, but you never did. You loved being treated like this. "Bet you're getting off on this, aren't you slut?" You blinked your eyes up at him to signal yes. "That's what I thought, so then you know your purpose... what a good fucktoy Murphy's got..." He howled as he started to reach his peak. "Gonna cum down your throat... swallow every fuckin' drop."

You pressed your tongue against his shaft, really wanting to milk him good. You felt the familiar sensation of hot ropes of cum shooting down your throat. You gulped it down gratefully as he slowly pulled out, filling your mouth with cum, entirely pulling his cock out of your mouth to squirt all over your face. "Let's not forget..." He whispered, aiming it down onto your pretty little ruby necklace.

"O-Oh..." You coughed out, sticky with his cum, some dripping from the tip of your nose.

"Aren't you gonna thank me for your treat, slut?" He asked, slapping you across the face with the back of his hand. "Go on, thank me."

"Th-Thank you... Doctor..." You gasped out, feeling small spurts of cum dripping down your tits and onto your corset. Good thing it was already white.

"That's it, so polite," Jonathan grinned, raising you from your knees to your feet. "Look how wet you are..." He ran two fingers along your wet slit. You looked up at him with parted lips. His other hand wiped his cum from your face with his fingers before shoving into your open mouth. He smirked at the sight of your pretty new necklace covered in his cum.

"Sir..." You whimpered with pouted lips. "Please touch me more..." He pushed you into the couch, and you heard your hands being cuffed behind your back and a slight slap to your ass. "Wh-Why are you cuffing me?" Your voice trembled.

"Because you won't be able to handle what I give you next."

Shudders went down your spine as he pressed you down into a perfect arch, arms snugly tucked against your lower back. You heard him searching through his briefcase and then a tiny little zap! to the back of your thighs. "Ow!" You winced, jumping away.

"Oh darling, that was only the first setting," Jonathan snickered and got on his knees behind you, and you could look at him now from this angle despite it being a bit upside down. "You poor thing..." He cooed in faux sympathy.

"Wh-What're you gonna do to me, doctor?" You whispered, eyes wide as he placed a pink dildo within your line of sight.

"Gonna see how much you can take," He hummed simply, holding a small bottle of lube in one hand. Your eyes widened even further and you started shaking your head.

"No, no, no!" You tried to wiggle away from him but he grabbed a hold of your hips and pushed you into an even more intense and vulnerable position. Both your holes on display for him now.

"Don't worry, I'm a doctor. I know what I'm doing..." He mused, lube-covered fingers now drawing circles around your asshole. "Breathe in for me, darling," He pressed two fingers into you, and you cried softly into the couch cushions, pussy gushing out pools of arousal and Crane's cum that was still inside of you. His fingers slowly stretched you out until you were ready to take the fake cock he was about to give you that he had already lubed up.

"Fuck... Jonathan..." You mewled as he slowly pressed the head in, gauging you for your reactions to make sure you were alright. "Oh god..." The thing was nearly fully sheathed inside of you.

"Fuck... look how amazing that is..." He whispered in awe, pushing the last of it until you were full to the brim with the toy. "Ready for the next part, love?" You heard a bit of an Irish accent come out in that question, which made you giggle. He quickly cleared his throat. "Cause I don't think you are." There was the American again.

"Oh god..." You whined, drool falling out of your mouth and your tits beginning to slip out from your corset. You heard a light buzzing of a vibrator coming from behind you which was quickly slipped inside of you and placed precisely on your g-spot. "Oh! Fuck! Turn it down... it's too much... ouch!" You squealed as he tased you on the hip again.

"Shhh... I'm just seeing the power that pleasure has over the body," Jonathan hummed as he put the rest of the small baby pink vibrator on your clit, which really crossed the line of overstimulation. Jonathan gripped the fake-cock in your ass and slowly pressed it in and out of you. You stood on your tippy toes, trying to get away from the pleasure and the pain of it all. "Look at you... how pathetic... and dirty. Bet you rarely let him use your little ass like this," He growled as he harshly thrust it back into you. Your moans were nearing screams at this point. "See, that's the thing about me and him... he'll do whatever you'll tell him to do, but you see... I don't get told what to do, especially not by a stupid little cumsock like you."

"I"m not a cums-"

Zap!

He moaned at the sound of your cries, tears slipping down your face again as he turned the vibrator up another setting. It was simply too much, and your mind was beginning to slowly cave in on itself. The vibrator is placed perfectly on your clit, and g-spot, and it was becoming harder and harder to bear. Your body shook, and your mind went truly blank as an unexpected orgasm hit you. Jonathan laughed sadistically as he turned the taser on and zapped you as you started to cum. You screamed in agony and from the electric pleasure, he held that there for a moment until it left a mark and then pulled it off of you.

"So fucking pretty," Jonathan praised, kissing your ass cheek. "This is all you're good for," He pressed the fake-cock further into your ass, and you mewled as you felt yourself squirt involuntarily. This was one of the longest orgasms you've ever had. You fought against the handcuffs, and tears were falling down your face as you soaked Jonathan's face behind you.

"St-Stop... too much..." You sobbed, writhing in overstimulation. Jonathan, with a wet face, slowly pulled the dildo out of you and placed it to the side. "Fuck..."

Once he had removed the vibrator, you relaxed, collapsing to your knees and burying your face into a couch cushion to muffle your crying. "There, there, Y/N," Jonathan hummed, undoing your restraints and pulling you into him. He held you while whispering sweet nothings in your ear with that unnerving American accent.

"Can... can I have Cillian back now?" You asked quietly, shaking a bit in his lap, pussy still gushing out fluids onto his thighs. He laughed softly and took off his wet glasses, setting them down on the coffee table.

"You need yer daddy?" Cillian asked. There was that lovely Irish accent again. "I'm right here, love." You smiled, pressing your face into his neck. "I love you so much, Daddy." You whispered, appreciating the warmth of his body against yours.

"I love you, baby," He hummed, covering your face in tiny kisses. "Let's get you cleaned up and then we'll get comfy in bed, yeah? Maybe order somethin' in?"

"Mhm..."

Cillian picked you up bridal style and carried you into your bathroom, where he sat you down on the bathtub's edge and carefully undid all the clasps of your lingerie. "So pretty, you did so good for me... love," Cillian praised.

After waiting for the bath to fill with hot water and once you and Cillian were fully undressed, you got in with a tired sigh. You felt exhausted and so overstimulated. So together, you lay in a hot bath that made you feel like you were in the womb again with Cillian's arms holding you like you were going to leave him. Your eyes fluttered shut as you nestled yourself closer to him, burying your face in his familiar chest. He stroked your wet hair, kissing the crowns of your head.

"Oh, baby girl..." He whispered deeply. "You did so good for me... made me feel so good..."

"Mmm... I know," You mumbled, ears pressed to the sound of his beating chest. The rhythm of his beloved heart was lulling you to sleep. "You made me so good... made me feel so good..." You agreed dopily.

Cillian cooed at you, cupping your jaw with his hand as he made you look up at him. "Oh, sweetheart... are you okay? Did I hurt you too much?"

"No, I'm okay, Cillian..." You reassured, stretching your neck out to give him a tender kiss. You leaned your forehead against his, hands pressed firmly on his chest. "I'm a little sore and need to be handled with care, but I'm okay... I feel... I feel so good..."

"Me too..." He whispered, pecking you quickly on the lips. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, Jonathan..." You whispered before quickly pulling away and shaking your head with embarrassment. "No, I meant Cillian...! I'm so sorry!"

"What's this about some Jonathan guy?" Cillian teased. "You dummy." He chuckled, grabbing you and pulling you back down on his chest again. He went back to that hypnotic way of stroking your hair. "Did I do a good job? Did ya enjoy yourself?"

"Oh, fuck, Cillian... that was so fucking fun..." You giggled, biting your lip as you looked up at him. "You're so hot... and so fucking talented..."

"Talented..?" He wheezed, cupping your face in between his hands as you spoke to him.

"Yeah... god... just how you so effortlessly talk in that American accent... it's so degrading and so fucking hot..." You rambled, rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you talked about him. "And I loved the whole... 'he's not right here right now'... thing even though you were right here...."

"You've still got a bit of m'cum on your throat..." He chuckled, glancing down at the ruby he gave you, glazed in a thin layer of cum. "Look so pretty covered in me cum..." Cillian hummed with a distracted and dazed look in his eyes as he daydreamed at the sight of your tits and the new shiny necklace around your pretty neck. In a way, it symbolized a way of permanently marking you. You were his. Any other bloke that tried to take a glance at you would see that cherry-red ruby and know to back the fuck off because this is Cillian Murphy's girl.

"Thank you... Daddy..." You whispered, pressing your face softly into his neck and slowly nuzzling your nose all the way up until you had your lips against his cheek. "I look so pretty with this new necklace you gave me... thank you... you're such a good boyfriend..." You whispered into his ear in a hypnotizing way.

"Yer welcome, babie," He grumbled, pressing kisses to your jaw as you licked softly at his jaw and neck. "Love buyin' you new pretty t'ings for me to put on you... especially love what you bought for yourself today..." He whispered, referring to the white lingerie you wore earlier. "Fuck... my cock was hard the moment I laid eyes on ya..."

"Oh hush," You giggled, poking him on the chest as you straddled him. "Maybe we could do that again sometime?" You asked coyly while you straddled his hips.

"What? Have me fuck ya as you call me another man's name?" Cillian asked in mock annoyance.

"No..."

"I'm just teasing, love..." Cillian laughed, kissing you softly. "'Course we can do it again, love... I saw how fuckin' wet you got the moment you realized who I was being."

"Obviously... I would like regular... doctor checkups from Jonathan..."

"'Course..." Cillian nodded curtly and with a smug smirk. "Dr. Crane's... very obsessive... gotta check in on his favorite patient..."

"But... also..."

"Hmmm? Cillian hummed, running his hands up your back with some soap. He softly rubbed in the soap along your sore and used body.

"Could we do Jackson Rippner next time?" You asked, covering your face in your hands.

"Huh?" He laughed in surprise.

"Just you were so sexy... in that movie..." "But he was a terrorist with an awful haircut!" Cillian protested with a bewildered grin on his face.

"Pleaaasee... daddy... it could be so good... pretty please..." You begged, giving him those sad eyes that instantly made him give in.

"Fine... fine, just as long as I don't have to cut my bloody hair..." He grumbled, rolling his eyes playfully.

"We are going on that little trip next week..." You whispered cheekily. "We could do a little somethin' somethin' on the plane..." You grinned.

"Oh yeah?" Cillian chortled. "Can you imagine? 'Cillian Murphy caught goin' into the airplane bathrooms with his young girlfriend to shag.' The stupid papers would shat out their own minds."

"We wouldn't get caught... daddy..." You whispered, nuzzling his nose. "Please..." You cried pathetically into his ear, all while seductively running your fingers up his body.

"Fuck me... alright..." He huffed. "But you have to go along with every word I say to you, alright? I'm also not getting a haircut... We can't fuck this up..." He told you commandingly. He paused for a moment before continuing. "But also, the idea of fuckin' you in some tight little airplane bathroom and having to keep you quiet is making me lose my mind..."

"Mhm..." You hummed, leaning in to kiss him. "Whatever you say goes, Cillian... I'll be a good girl." "I know you will, baby... 'cause I know you don't wanna find out what Jackson does to bad girls..." He whispered in your ear, causing you to shudder.

You really couldn't wait for this trip.

-

Part two?? Yes or no?? AHHH I HOPE YOU ENJOYED I'M SO PROUD OF THIS ONE.

PART TWO!!!

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ sometimes goodbye is a second chance ] j. hughes

paring : Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary : Jack and his ex reunite at Nico’s wedding, reigniting some old feelings between the pair

warning(s) : a heavy makeout session, mentions of injured!jack & hockey injuries

author’s note : was reading something for jack then realized that it’s been a hot second since i wrote anything for him so that’s how this lil thing was born lmaoo. enjoy loves

༺═──────────────═༻

She wasn't going to go to the wedding. As a matter of fact, she made sure she had plans for that weekend that she was supposed to be in Switzerland so she could use them as an excuse to why she couldn't be there for the wedding.

Then Nico did everything but get on his hands and knees to beg her to come since she is one of his close friends. How could she say no to those big doe eyes that the captain of the Devils has? Even she's not immune to those eyes of his.

It's a beautiful day when she arrives for the wedding. Nico waits for her by baggage claim when she walks into Bern Airport after getting off the plane that brought her to Switzerland. She smiles and runs up to her close friend. Despite everything that happened right after the new year, she and Nico stayed close.

Well, as close as they could be while she was busy avoiding one of his teammates.

When she gets to Nico, she wraps her arms around him. "So happy you could come," Nico tells her as they back away from each other. "Mia is even excited that you're here."

"Nico, I can't ever say no to either of you," she teases. "I'm happy that I came too though. Forgot how beautiful it is here."

She grabs her suitcase and duffel bag before she walks outside to Nico's car. "So, all the guests are at the hotel already since the rehearsal dinner is tonight on the roof," he tells her as they load her stuff into the car. "There's probably enough time for you to take a nap if you want to take one since I know you're a big napper after you travel." She playfully punches his shoulder as soon as she's settled in the passenger's seat. "I'm just saying that you came in eight hours before the dinner so you have time to sleep if you want!"

"You don't have to call me a 'big napper'," she retorts with a smile on her face. Nico sticks his tongue out at her. "Oh, how grown up. Aren't you getting married tomorrow?"

"And my fiancé finds it cute when I stick my tongue out at her."

"Doesn't work on me, Nico. Hate to break it to you."

After about twenty minutes of driving, Nico pulls up to the hotel. She looks up at the building with a sigh.

The entire drive, her mind has been on her ex-boyfriend. She knows that he'll be here, but she doesn't know if he's already here.

Nico turns the car off as soon as he finds a parking spot. She sighs and unbuckles her seatbelt. She waits to get out though. She doesn't know how she feels about running into Jack, but right now she's very anxious.

It's not that they ended on bad terms. She just couldn't watch him keep playing and risking long term damage to his shoulder.

He kept forcing himself to get back on the ice before his body was ready and he wasn't able to heal correctly. She couldn't bear to watch him keep hurting himself, so she walked away.

Of course she kept tabs on him throughout the rest of the season after she walked away in January. It broke her heart to miss the Stadium Series game because she was looking forward to seeing both him and Luke play. She was ecstatic when she saw online that he was going to be getting surgery on the shoulder that he hurt in the game against Chicago.

She didn't reach out though. She didn't think she had the right.

"I know you're worried about seeing him," Nico states. "I made sure that your rooms were on different floors so you won't see each other until later. He, um ..." he trails off. "He tells me all the time how much he wishes he listened to you and let his body heal."

"He only keeps saying that because he wishes he never lost me," she comments as she blinks away the tears that have formed in her eyes. "I walked away because I couldn't keep watching him hurt himself to play a sport. I know he loves it, but he loved it more than he loved me so I walked away."

"He got surgery back in April," Nico tells her. "Before the season even ended to get a head start on his recovery. He started doing physical therapy two weeks ago so he's doing well. He'll get back on the ice in a month. I told him to take it easy."

A tear rolls down her cheek and she quickly wipes it away. "Why couldn't he just do this sooner?" she says. Her voice is so shaky that she can barely speak.

Nico grabs her hand. "He needed to lose you to realize that what he was doing was not okay," he replies. "I know how hard it's been for you. Both of you. I think that the two of you should talk this weekend. For both your sakes."

She shakes her head and looks at Nico. "I don't know if I can face him after walking away from him," she cries. "You didn't see the look on his face when I left the apartment that day, Nico. You didn't see how much I hurt him when he was already in physical pain. I don't know if he even wants to talk to me after that. I kicked him when he was already down."

He pulls her across the armrest and into a hug. She cries into his shoulder and grasps onto his t-shirt. "He's worried that you won't talk to him," he admits. "Just so you know. If you want to talk to him, do it. You both need some closure."

The worst part is that she knows it too. She walked away and didn't reply to a single one of his texts or calls. She moved to Philadelphia to her brother's apartment so she was just far enough away that he couldn't drive to her but close enough if something happened to him.

She never stopped caring, and she should probably tell him that.

With a nod, she pulls away. "Okay," she sighs. "I'll talk to him. Only if he wants to talk to me though."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

She doesn't talk to Jack at the rehearsal dinner. As a matter of fact, she doesn't even see him at the rehearsal dinner. There aren't a ton of people at the dinner either so she thought that she would see him. It surprises her that she didn't.

Getting ready the next afternoon though, she knows that today will be the day she sees him. At least she'll look her best when he sees her for the first time since she walked out on that cold January day. Same goes for him. Jack's always looked good in a suit and tie. She wonders which one of his game day suits he'll be in today.

Three rolls around and she heads from her second floor hotel room down to the first floor. She'd walk down the stairs if her feet weren't already killing her from the heels she has on.

The ceremony is taking place in the ballroom because of how many guests will be attending. The reception and dinner are taking place up on the rooftop at five so Nico and his new wife can get some pictures taken up there before everyone joins them.

Elevator doors open and she's met with the one person she's been wanting to avoid until the reception tonight. Jack freezes like a deer in headlights, but his eyes drink her in as she steps onto the elevator.

It's not like she's wearing something very revealing. The top of her red dress hugs her body, shoves off her curves, and pushes her breasts up a little bit. Her loose sleeves hang off her shoulders. The skirt falls to her knees and is kind of puffy.

"Uh, hi," Jack breathes out as the door closes behind her. "You, um, look good."

"Hi," she replies as she runs her fingers through her curls. "You too. Um, look good." His red tie with his black and white suit matches her red dress. Nico definitely told him what color that she was going to wear.

His eyes flicker down her body again and she feels self-conscious of the way her dress hugs her body. She crosses her arms over her chest and prays that the doors open soon.

Jack quickly picks up on how uncomfortable she is. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Stare?" she interrupts. "It's fine." The elevator dings and the doors slide open behind her. "I'll see you around."

She quickly makes her escape. Her heels are muffled by the carpet but she finds the room that she knows Nico is in.

After she knocks a handful of times, the door opens. Nico is the one that opens the door. He looks handsome in his suit and tie. He has a white rose hanging out of his flap on his jacket. "Oh, don't you look nice dressed up," she comments.

Nico rolls his eyes and lets her in the room. "Oh, shush," Nico retorts. She looks behind him as she walks into the room to and sees his older brother, his dad, Timo, and Jonas.

"Hi," she says to everyone in the room. "Just needed to come talk to Nico for a second. Won't keep him very long. I swear."

"What's going on?" Nico questions behind her.

She turns to face him. "I ran into Jack," she replies. "Wearing a red tie. Want to tell me why he was wearing a red tie when I'm wearing a red dress?"

He shoots her a smile. "Purely coincidental," Nico tells her. "He does play on a team that wears red and black so many he was missing the team when he picked out his tie."

"Nico Hischier, I'm going to kill you on your wedding day if you don't start talking in the next two seconds," she snaps.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Nico laughs as he throws his hands up in the air in surrender. “I have no idea why Jack’s wearing a red tie. I didn’t tell him what you were wearing if that’s why you came marching in here to yell at me.”

She sighs and rubs her fingers through her curls. “Okay,” she replies. “I think I’m just losing it or something. Kind of freaking out.”

“Have you talked to him?” asks Timo. She looks over Nico’s shoulder to look at him. “I mean, it might solve that unresolved tension between you. It’s so thick that I can feel it when he’s not even in the room.”

With a blink of her eyes, she says, “I can’t believe I never thought of talking to him. Wow.”

Timo rolls his eyes and Nico takes over the conversation. “Look, I know you’re avoiding him because you think he doesn’t want to talk to you,” he begins to say. “But even Timo and Seigs can attest to this, Jack wants to talk to you. Seriously. He’s nervous you won’t talk to him. You’ll be in the same area for the rest of the day. Please say more than just ‘you look good’ to him.”

She groans in slight frustration. “You are insufferable,” she tells her close friend. “Good luck Mia.”

There’s laughter behind her as she walks out of the room to get to where the ceremony is taking place in one of the larger rooms.

It’s almost like a very large conference room with a lot of chairs. There has to be nearly a hundred chairs in the room. She greets Nico’s mom and sister as well as some of his Devils teammates.

Across the room, she sees Jack talking to his brothers. All three of them look very handsome. That’s when she realizes that Jack’s arm isn’t in a sling like he was the last time she saw a picture of him. She was too shocked earlier in the elevator to notice that he doesn’t have on a sling. His hair is a little longer than it was a few months ago. He smiles at something Quinn said.

She takes her seat right behind the Devils, sitting right behind Jack of all people. He sits between Haula and Merc.

When she goes to say something, the ceremony starts.

Talking to Jack is just going to have to wait.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There’s an hour between when the ceremony ends and the reception begins so Nico and Mia can take pictures up on the roof. She needs to touch up her makeup since she decided to cry while Nico was saying his vows. Her best friend grew up so much since they met back at the 2017 NHL draft.

A lot of the guests have already made their way to the roof when she gets up there. She grabs a glass of champagne from a tray that a waiter is holding and takes a big gulp of it to prepare her for the night to come.

She spots Dawson, Luke, Jesper, and Simon all standing by the railing. No Jack so it’s safe to approach despite his little brother standing there. She hopes that Luke doesn’t hate her guts for breaking his brother’s heart.

When she approaches the group of Devils, Dawson gets excited. “Oh my God, I didn’t think you were coming,” he says as he drapes an arm over her shoulders.

“And miss a Swiss wedding?” she laughs. “Absolutely not. I wasn’t about to skip out on Nico’s wedding.” The boys laugh, even Luke. Her eyes fall on the youngest of the Hughes boys. “And how are you, baby Hughes? Still settling in well with the team?”

Luke nods with a smile. “The guys have been very welcoming,” he tells her. “Helped me out of that slump I was in.”

She mirrors his smile. “That’s great,” she says. “Glad you were able to come in and get right to it. Being a Calder nominee isn’t an easy feat so I wanted to come congratulate you on your rookie season.”

“Thank you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Jack. He stands with Dougie, Dawsy, Haula, and Nico. Mia stands with her arm hooked with her new husband’s.

Luke, Dawson, and Nemec all walk away to get another drink. Jesper stands next to her. “How many times have you been told to talk to him?” Bratter asks.

“Too many so please don’t-”

“I’m not. I was just going to offer to go get him if you did want to talk to him.”

She sighs and finishes her glass of champagne. “I want to talk to him but do you really think he’ll listen to me if I apologize?” she comments.

“I do,” Bratter replies. She looks up at him. “I mean it. He has been kicking himself for months. I know he misses you. I don’t know if he misses your relationship or just you in his life but he misses you. I think talking to him is worth it.”

She turns her head to look at Jack. He looks happy and she doesn’t want to ruin that. “What if I just upset him?” she questions. “I don’t want to ruin his happiness.”

“He’s not truly happy without you,” Jesper says. “Talk to him. I think he’ll listen to what you have to say. Maybe he will even offer his own apology to you. I’ll be right back.”

Then he walks away. She watches him walk up to Jack and say something to him. She stands straight up and sighs when Jack looks over at her. She puts a smile on her face and heads over to the group.

It’s now or never. It’s early in the evening so neither of them are drunk yet. She’s had just enough alcohol to give her the courage to have this conversation with Jack.

All eyes are on her, but her eyes are on Jack. “Hi,” she breathes out. “Can we talk for a second? Please? Alone?”

Jack nods and hands his drink to Dougie. She shoots a smiling Nico a glare as she turns and walks inside so they’re away from the prying eyes of Jack’s teammates and her mutual friends that she has with Nico. They’re all very nosy.

She finds a little room off to the side that she walks into with a sigh. She picks at the skin around her fingernails out of nerves.

This is truly it. The next few minutes are either going to make or break whatever relationship or friendship they have left. She bites the inside of her cheek as she turns and faces Jack.

“What did you want to-” Jack begins to say before she interrupts him.

“I want to apologize,” she quickly replies. “For that night. For ignoring all your calls and texts after. I shouldn’t have given you that ultimatum. Not at that moment, anyway. I caused you emotional pain while you were in so much physical pain.”

Jack’s face falls into a frown as she talks. He starts to shake his head the longer she talks. “No, you had every right to give me that ultimatum,” he tells her. “I pushed myself way too hard and losing you opened my eyes to just how hard I was pushing myself. To what I was putting my body through. I didn’t understand why at first but now I do. I’m sorry that I saw that too late.”

Tears form in her eyes at the softness of his voice. She wasn’t expecting this Jack when she talked to him.

“I thought you’d be mad,” she admits. “I thought you’d want to yell at me for walking away. For ending it.”

“I was mad,” Jack says. “Believe me. I was so mad that I pushed myself even harder for a few weeks. Then there was setback after setback and I finally understood why.”

The tears that formed in her eyes roll down her cheeks, painting her skin black with eyeliner. She should’ve grabbed her waterproof eyeliner but she didn’t.

She stares across the room at her ex. Neither of them say a word for a second, before she asks the question she has wanted to know the answer to for nearly six months.

“Why did you do it?” she asks. “Why did you have to push yourself so hard and risk long term damage? Don’t tell me it’s because you love hockey and put your all into the sport. You shouldn’t have to push yourself to the point of surgery.”

Jack looks down at his feet and she raises her eyebrows. She presses her lips in a tight line as she waits for him to respond.

The answer she gets is not the one she was ready for.

“I thought that no one would care about me or love me if I wasn’t playing hockey,” Jack mumbles. “All anyone has talked about this season is me and my brothers. Hughes Bowl, me getting to 100 points after hitting 99 last season, whatever about me and Luke playing together. It seemed like no one would give a shit about me if I had stopped mid-season to heal. It seemed like everyone would write me off as weak or get mad at me for taking care of my shoulder. So I pushed you away and pushed myself to play until we got eliminated from contention so no one could blame me for missing playoffs. I didn’t want to be the reason we missed playoffs, but it feels like I am anyway.”

She frowns at his response. She had no idea that he felt this way.

There’s some space between them so she takes a few steps forward so she stands in front of him. “You could have talked to me,” she softly tells him. “I was willing to support you through whatever you needed to do to be healthy. Yet you seemed to care more about hockey than me.”

He lifts his head up and that’s when she sees the tears in his eyes. She pouts at the sight.

“I didn’t want you to see me at my lowest, and I’m sorry for pushing you away,” Jack comments. “I love you and I didn’t want you to see that side of me. I love you more than I have ever loved hockey. I should’ve listened to you when you told me to rest and I didn’t. I should have.” He pauses for a second and meets her eyes. “I never should have let you walk out that door.”

She reaches up to dry his cheeks when the tears begin to roll. “You know that everyone would still love and care about you if you had just pressed pause on the season,” she tells him. “Everyone that loves you would’ve supported you if you just let your body heal. No one likes seeing a player push himself to surgery. I would have stayed and helped you instead of loving and supporting you from afar.”

Jack leans down and rests his forehead on hers. His eyes are closed and her hands rest on his jaw. Her thumbs trace his cheekbones and her eyes remain on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Jack softly says.

“I’m sorry for walking out on you when you needed me,” she tells him. “I kicked you when you were down and it wasn’t fair of me to do that to you. I’m sorry I broke your heart.”

He wraps his hands around her wrists before he pulls them down so he can lace their fingers together. He doesn’t pull his forehead away and she doesn’t move either.

“You never broke my heart,” he whispers to her. “I broke yours by choosing hockey over you. I never wanted you to feel like I loved a sport more than you and that’s what I did. It’s my fault.”

She shakes her head and pulls back. Jack’s eyes open and he looks at her. His blue eyes shine with tears. “Even after everything, I still love you,” she admits. “I don’t believe that you can break my heart, Jack Hughes.”

He lets out a light laugh and shakes his head. “Same for you,” he tells her.

A small smile forms on her lips as she looks up at him. He lets one of her hands go to wipe away her tears. His thumb comes away black and he wipes her eyeliner on his black pants.

“Can I get a redo?” Jack asks. “On that ultimatum that you gave me? I have an answer for you.”

She bites the inside of her cheek before she asks in reply, “Is it going to be me? Or is it going to be your career?”

“It’s you, baby,” Jack instantly replies as he lifts his hand to cup her jaw. “It’ll always be you.”

The smile on her face grows. She licks her bottom lip as he pulls her in for a soft kiss. She hesitates for a second before she returns the kiss.

Jack drops her other hand so he can cup the other side of her jaw. Her fingers grasp at his open suit jacket so he can’t get too far. She wraps her arms around his torso under his jacket.

He takes a few steps forward so her back is pressed against a wall. She gasps as soon as her back hits the cool, smooth surface, but she doesn’t break the kiss. Jack leans down into her to deepen the already deep kiss. She presses herself flush against him.

His hands slide down to her waist before they slip behind her back. She feels his fingers graze the zipper and that’s when she pulls back. “Jack,” she sighs. “Not now.”

“Later though?”

“We’ll see,” she replies. “I think we should go back out. I’m sure Nico’s looking for us.”

Jack takes a few steps back to fix himself. She takes the moment to make sure she’s presentable as well.

With a sigh, she grabs Jack’s hand and they leave the room. Their fingers are laced together as they rejoin the reception. “So, how are we going to explain this to our friends?” Jack asks.

“We’ll just tell them that we got our heads out of our asses and apologized to each other,” she replies. “That we still love each other. I think saying goodbye gave us a second chance to do this the right way.”

They turn a corner and find themselves back on the roof with the rest of the party. “It did,” Jack says. She looks up at him. “Are you my girlfriend again? Or do I have to get down on my knees to beg you like I did the first time?”

She shakes her head with a laugh. “I’d like to see you get on your knees for a different reason so yes, I guess I’m you’re girlfriend again,” she tells him.

Jack presses a quick kiss to her lips, but every single one of their friends has already noticed.

“About damn time!” Nico shouts from across the room. A few of the Devils cheer for them and she steps even closer to her boyfriend.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[senditcolton]

Can I please request some soft smut with William Nylander? I know you don’t write for him that much, but I love your writing so much!!

Finally, Finally, Finally

a/n: my dear anon!! thank you for requesting this because it is true, I don't write much for William but I do love him. so this is a wonderful push for me to write some more Willy Styles content. (I know I do at least have one other fic planned out with him, courtesy of my Mamma Mia series [gotta have the Swedes represented for obvious reasons]).

Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: smut! heavy makeout session, fingering, handjob, unprotected penetrative sex. but very sweet and loving smut, as requested!!

You gaze, peaceful, from your spot on the couch at your boyfriend William across the living room. The beer bottle in your hands still cool to touch as you watch him move around your space, vinyl record in his hand. It’s a simple beautiful moment to observe; how he carefully removes the pressing from its sleeve and places it on the turn table. His elegant fingers drop the needle precisely and the small scratch of static hits your ears before the sound of mellow guitars fills the air.

There was a part of you that still didn’t believe this was your life. You certainly didn’t expect it a year ago.

One year to the date, you were sitting in this same living room, playing guitar and trying to take your mind off of the fact that you were alone. Again. Another breakup, another night of wallowing in self-pity. That is, until your friend Stephanie called, inviting you to a local bar with her, Mitch, and a few of their friends. You almost said no. Now, you’re glad you didn’t. Because that was where you met William.

He was charming, sweet, kind. A night you had originally thought would include one or two drinks in one or two hours ended up lasting until last call. That night Will pulled you out to the makeshift dancefloor, spun you in time with the music from the jukebox. He ran through the streets with you in the rain to get to his car. He drove you home and you left him with a kiss on the cheek and your number in his pocket.  

A year. An entire year since that first night and even back then, both of you knew that you shared some special connection, as if the universe planned for you all to meet in that specific moment at that specific place. That’s why earlier tonight, you went to that same bar for the anniversary of the night you met – the night things changed.

Those memories fill you with happiness and contentment, a gentle smile playing at your lips as you watch William turn back to you, a similar expression on his face. He doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to walk over to you sprawled out on the couch before coming to a stop in front of you.

Your head tilts in a silent question, one that is answered by Will holding out his hand to you, upturned palm warm and inviting.

“Dance with me?”

The answer is an obvious one, so blatant that you don’t bother giving a verbal reply. You simply take a final sip of your beer and place it on the coffee table before reaching out to him. Your hand slips into his, your skin brushing against the callouses and William’s fingers tighten around you. He helps lift you up onto your feet before guiding you to the empty space of your living room.

Everything about being with William is easy, so it’s no surprise how easy it is to fall into his hold, your arms lifting up to rest on his shoulders as his wrap around your waist. Your eyes take in the sight of him; his bright blue irises, his blonde hair even more golden in the low lamplight of the room, the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers, slowly swaying you as the music continues.

“Nothing really,” you reply with a gentle shrug. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. How handsome you are. The usual things.”

Your gentle joke pulls a chuckle from William’s chest, his body moving closer to you. You let yourself sink deeper into his hold, your head coming to rest on his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne, matching your heartbeat to his.

“We are pretty lucky,” he muses, the sound of his voice vibrating through his chest. “I sometimes still can’t believe I was lucky enough to meet you. And that you took an interest in me.”

His statement causes you to pull your head back, looking at him with a confused expression on your face. It sounded odd, coming from his mouth: the doubt. William sees your bewilderment, offering a gentle smile before he continues.

“Steph told me that you had recently broke up with your ex. That you might not show up. That you weren’t really looking for anything serious. Imagine how it felt, starting the night with that information. Imagine my bewilderment with how the night ended.”

He grins at you, those memories running through his head with the same crystal-clear vision that they had been playing in yours. You return his smile, your hand coming up to cradle his jawline, your thumb gently brushing over the stubble on his cheek.

“It was hard to resist you. Even if I wanted to.”

Your quiet confession dances through the air, mixing with the acoustic guitar still pouring from the speakers. The sound of it hits William’s eardrums and the look he directs your way tells you that it’s the sweetest melody that he has ever heard.

There is no stopping it, the way the two of you lean into each other, your lips meeting in a gentle kiss.

Even though you had shared many kisses in the year you had been dating, you knew that you would never get tired of kissing William. He tasted like summer; like green apples and the promise of something more.

Will’s hands tighten around your body, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Your mouth opens in a sigh and he takes the initiative to kiss you deeper, his tongue dancing against yours. It was always impossible to stop the gravity of him, to resist the temptation of falling into his orbit. Not that you ever wanted to.

It is almost blind, the way that William and you stumble back to the couch, lips and bodies still pressed against one another. You only separate when the back of his calves hit the couch cushions, his body sinking onto the sofa while you remain standing. His eyes look up at you, staring at you like you were the most exquisite human in the world. Which, to him, was the truth.

You offer him a slightly mischievous smirk as your hands drop to the hem of your shirt, slowly peeling the fabric from your frame, exposing more of your skin to him. He keeps his gaze locked onto you, the only evident indication of his desire being the way his irises darken when you throw your shirt to the side. You are tempted to kiss him again; to climb into his lap and have him hold you close but you push against that need for a moment. Instead of your hands falling to William like you want them to, they find the button of your jeans, undoing the clasp and zipper before you push them down your thighs.

Finally, you lean forward, your hands resting on Will’s shoulders as you step completely out of your jeans. Will steadies you, his strong hands holding onto your hips, preventing you from tripping on the discarded fabric until you are completely settled in his lap, your legs resting on the outside of his thighs, knees digging into the couch cushions. You smile at him again, your hands drifting up to gently play with the long strands of his hair.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” he whispers, his eyes still staring into yours. You weren’t planning on stopping the smile that appears on your face at his words, but even if you were, it would have been in vain. This is the way William loved you; he always stated it as a fact. The sky is blue, the earth is round, you are beautiful, and he loves you.

It was just a list of undeniable truths.

“You’re pretty stunning yourself,” you giggle, leaning in to kiss him again, relishing the way you could feel his smile through the kiss.

The hands that were on your hips start to wander, first moving down to trace over the curve of your ass and down your thighs before retracing their path and continuing upwards. His thumbs caress the cut of your ribcage, the curve of the bone guiding his touch up to your breasts. You can’t help but whimper into the kiss when he traces the outline of your bra, each new edge his fingertips encounter pulling him in a different direction. It’s the most exquisite form of torture, his hands all over your body but never truly touching you.

His fingers move towards your back, tracing up and down your spine once – twice – before he finally grips your bra and effortlessly unclasps it, the fabric loosening. The two of you break away just long enough for you to let the garment fall away. William doesn’t hesitate to lean in, kissing you only once before his lips descend down the column of your throat, across your collarbones and decolletage. You sigh, leaning your head back as he slowly marks you, claiming you as his; a fact that you had never refuted.

One of your hands tangles deeper in his hair, keeping him close to you while the other descends, crossing the planes of his back, gliding over the ridges of his shoulder blades and the cut of his muscles. It’s when Will takes one of your nipples into his mouth that your fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt, a soft whisper of a moan escaping you.

Through the haze of your pleasure, it slowly dawns on you at how unfair the current situation is: you, sitting on William’s lap with your underwear being the only thing preventing you from being completely naked while he was still fully clothed. You start to tug at the fabric of his shirt, slowly inching it up his back until he eventually registers your movements and tears his mouth away from your body. He grins at you, one of his eyebrows raised in a teasing silent question.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you pout, continuing to pull at his t-shirt. Will simply chuckles at your words before his hands fall from yours and grip the cotton, pulling his shirt off his body.

“Better?”

“Much,” you reply, capturing his lips in a kiss again as your hands now dance across the newly exposed skin. William’s own hands come to rest at your hips, content to switch roles and let you explore his body, which you gladly do.

Your fingers trace his chest, pausing briefly to play with the golden chains still hanging from his neck, before dropping down. The kisses you give move from his lips to his neck as your hands continue to dip lower, nails gently tracing over his abs, his stomach tightening in response. It isn’t long until your fingers find the waistband of his own jeans, tracing over the edge before gliding over the bulge of him, palming the stiff outline of his cock through the denim. You can feel the vibrations of a groan that rises from his chest as you continue your movements, your own hips rolling in response.

“Baby… älskling… please.”

The gentle whines that escape from William’s throat are enough for you to return to the waistline of his jeans, your fingers deftly undoing the button and the zipper. You slip you hand underneath the fabric covering him, finally contacting his silken skin. Another moan emulates from his chest, his own grip tightening against your hips as you curl your fingers around his length, gently stroking him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he praises, the words just making the fire inside you roar even brighter. You continue your languid movements against his cock, your lips retracing up the curve of his throat before hovering against the shell of his ear.

“I feel even better wrapped around you.”

You pull your face away, your sultry whisper still lingering in his ears as your eyes connect with his, a playful spark in your irises. William is simply staring at you as if he couldn’t believe you were real – a statement that he had said to you, multiple times before. You grin, your hand stroking him once again. It’s as if that sensation brings him back to the moment, his head falling against the couch cushions briefly before his eyes reconnect with yours, your grin now reflected on his lips.

“Show me,” he dares and that’s all it takes for you to lean in and kiss him once more. William’s hands rest gently on your thighs while your hands move away from his skin to grip at the waistband of his jeans and underwear, tugging both downward.

Underneath your body, you feel his hips lift, his hands and lips falling from you as he assists you in removing the remaining material from him. You busy yourself by reattaching your own lips to his neck, gently sucking and nipping at the skin, impatiently waiting for him to kick away the denim and cotton. Your actions partially distract Will but also spur him on and it isn’t long before his hands find your waist once more, holding you tight and guiding your hips down to meet his.

A mutual groan escapes both of you at the feeling of him pressed against your hot core, one of his hands lifting to cradle your head and pull you back to his lips. His other hand, still steady on your waist, gently tugs you forward and you oblige is silent request, rolling your hips against his. Every gasp and moan you utter is swallowed by him as you continue to gently rock back and forth on his lap, the fabric of your now soaked underwear creating a beautiful friction.

“I can feel how wet you are älskling,” Will whispers against your lips, his statement as staccato as your breathing, his need clearly as powerful as yours. “Already ruined, always so needy.”

“It’s all because of you,” you whine, your forehead pressed against his as your hips continue to move. “Always make me feel so good.”

“Wanna make you feel better,” he groans, his hands tightening to still your movements. You whimper at the loss of sensation but William doesn’t leave you hanging long as he lifts your hips off of his.

One of his hands glides down your leg before curling around to the inside of your thigh, tracing upwards before connecting with your core. You gasp, your eyes flying open to connect to his when you feel his fingers hook around the damp fabric, pulling it sharply to the side and exposing your slit to the cool air. Will just shoots you a grin as his fingers move again, the rough calloused skin finally connecting to your soaked folds.

You can’t stop the way your eyelids flutter shut as his fingers glide over you, meeting no resistance as they move up before connecting with your clit. You whine, your hands tightening on his shoulders as he rubs his fingertips against the bundle of nerves, every movement making your cunt pulse with need.

“William, please – I want you. Wanna feel you, please,” you beg, every ministration of his hand pulling you closer to that edge but never quite far enough. The sound of his quiet hum hits your ears before his hand falls away from your core. You open your eyes and lock gaze with him, seeing that pure admiration in his own pupils – admiration that would normally have you melting right then and there if you weren’t already so high-strung.

“Anything for you, min käraste,” he replies, the hand still on your body gently urging you to sink down onto him.

It is all encompassing, the feeling of him pressing into you, filling you up. Your mouth drops in a silent moan at the sensation. The sound that falls from William is more audible but just as satisfied as his grip tightens around you, the heat of his breath fanning across your cheekbones. You blindly chase his lips, capturing his mouth in yours and swallowing his moans, your hands tangling in his hair.

You feel his fingers flex against your skin – a silent demand that you are all too willing to obey – and you start to move your hips, slowing finding a gentle rhythm. Each roll of your body shoots another blaze of fire up your spine as you and Will messily kiss, the pleasure almost too overwhelming for you both.

A gasp falls from you as Will moves his hips up to meet yours, grazing that damnable spot within you that has you seeing stars. There is no stopping how your head falls back, lifting up towards the ceiling. Never deterred, William reattaches his lips to your collarbones, shoulders, and breasts as you two continue to move against each other.

It’s intoxicating: how he makes you feel, every movement of him inside you, every touch of his hands, every kiss he presses against your skin. That delectable pleasure builds within you, your movements faltering as Will continues to bring you to that peak.

“Let go, älskling. Let me feel you,” he whispers, the sentence punctuated by his hand slipping back between your thighs, pressing against your clit once more. The sensation has your head snapping back to look down at him, your chest and face surely flushed, your eyes filled with desire and pleasure and absolute love for the man in front of you.

It is a perfectly timed thrust combined with a skilled stroke of his fingers against you that has you coming undone, your body stilling as your orgasm thrums through you. Your head falls further down, burying itself into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, your teeth gently grazing the strong muscle there as William continues to move, prolonging your release.

He soon stills, always the attentive lover, letting you recover even though you can still feel him painfully hard within you. You sigh into his skin, kissing his neck before your hips roll again. A sharp gasp falls from him in response to your movements, the pleasurable sensation of you warm and wet around him somehow ratcheted up even more after you’ve come.

“Please, William,” you purr into his ear as your hips continue to roll, albeit less steady than before, your muscles feeling weak thanks to your prior motions and resulting orgasm. You mouth soft kisses against his jawline, your hands still tangled in his blond hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp. “I want to feel you come inside me. Please, min kärlek.”

The sound of those syllables, the sound of you speaking his native tongue, especially when coupled with your gentle pleas has his body stiffening beneath you, his own orgasm crashing into him. You moan at the sensation of him spilling within you, a newer feeling but one you knew you would never tire of as William wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his own moans hot against your ear.

The two of you stay there for a moment in the afterglow, bodies pressed against one another. You can feel Will’s fingers gently tracing up and down your spine while your own fiddle with the hair at the nape of his neck. You slowly lift yourself up, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth when you spy the darkening love bites scattered across his skin, William shooting a similar smirk, no doubt at the matching evidence on your decolletage.

Your hand falls from his hair to cup his jaw, thumb gently running over his cheek as you take in the sight of him, practically golden and glowing beneath you.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too, min käraste,” Will replies, bringing his own hand up to gently grasp your chin, pulling your lips to his in a tender kiss.

While the vocalization of those words may have been somewhat recent, it felt as if you and William had exchanged them long ago: before this moment, before the first time you said them to each other, even before the two of you became exclusive. Those words sang their truth from both of your hearts on that very first night you met.

You knew you would be forever thankful for the universe for sending him to you a year ago. He was everything you wanted – everything you never knew you needed. But now, one thing was for certain; you had finally found that one person that made it safe for you to fall.

tagging: @thewintersoldierdisaster because I know you are in your Nylander era and @laurenairay who signed up with my new taglist... which you can SIGN UP FOR HERE!!

[ferrstappen]

Max the wag: are we the drama? l Max Verstappen Imagine

happy note: hello my loviessssss! How are you all? It feels like it’s been an eternity and I am so so happy to be back to writing and interacting with your great and incredible asks and everything <3 and I know I said this was supposed to be ready by Monday or so? but I started an internship and it's been harder than expected, but I'm getting the hang of it so be prepared for more works to come!

Probably tomorrow I’ll be posting a list of all the requests I’m incredibly behind but that way you know I got them and are on my mind and will be written <3 I also don’t know if you like the idea of starting a tag list? Please please let me know, babes <3 

ALSO I got an incredible request of the Max the wag series involving our boy Yuki AND I LOVED IT SO MUCH so it’s absolutely happening!

YOU CAND FIND THE MAX THE WAG SERIES HERE

summary: For the first time, Max and you find yourselves on the other end of the gossip.

Hungary Grand Prix, 2023.

Max wasn’t feeling like himself.

The car upgrades were supposed to be great, not to make him struggle and happy a shitty day, which meant shitty questions, passive aggressive press conference trying to not look so annoyed, but it didn’t help that the press was painstakingly working to get the worst angles with furrowed eyebrows and waving off strangers trying to aggressively approach him.

Of course, it didn’t help you weren’t there to hold his hand walking around the paddock, forcing his blue eyes to focus on your calming smile and the inevitable lovestruck expression plastered on his face. 

And yes, he was letting out the fact he didn’t leave Monaco in the best of terms. He’d grown accustomed to you tagging along to most races, but when you informed him you wouldn’t be able to make it to the last two races before summer break he didn’t take it the best way. 

Yes, Max understood you were needed at your job and deadlines were way more difficult to meet with changing time zones, bumpy flights and noisy paddocks and hospitalities, but it didn’t change the fact that he needed you and his selfish self really needed you cheering for him, even if you’d seen him win enough times already. 

In conclusion, it was safe to say he didn’t really feel like putting on a genuine smile or goof around with interviewers who’d ask the same questions while Christian tells him off for looking unapproachable. 

The only thing that turned the corners of his mouth was a WhatsApp attachment from you, Jimmy and Sassy sleeping with the F1 channel on full display on the TV. 

It wasn’t long until Twitter and Instagram fan accounts came to the conclusion you weren’t there with Max, creating a small discussion with some people arguing that it didn’t make sense you’d tagged along to places like Baku or Melbourne and not go to a race less far away and arguably one of the most popular tracks of the season, while other people defended you saying you had your own life apart from being Max’s girlfriend, you had a job, conferences to attend amongst other things, so it was ridiculous to expect you to be there for every race, no matter how much you loved Max. 

You don’t know whether it was the fact you didn’t post a story on Instagram celebrating Max’s win or the fact Max hadn’t been his best self, struggling with the car, losing control over the tiniest thing and just losing focus overall the fuel for some fans to start speculating about the status of your relationship.

User1: why hasn’t y/n  posted something about max?? she always does when she’s not with him

User2: something’s sus 

User3: no pls I cant handle another July break up

User4: max deserves someone who shows up for him! He arguably had the most difficult weekend of the season and she’s mia 

            User5: she’s always there for him and has a right to have her own life grow the hell up!

Belgian Grand Prix, 2023

Last race before summer break meant most people on the paddock were a turmoil of emotions between the desire for the weekend to be completely over and wishing to do the best possible job before the break.

Max convinced himself he was coming into the weekend relaxed, knowing he’d have to put his best strategies, talent and focus for Spa, but a few free weeks were right around the corner so he could recharge with you, staying in bed for the entire morning before getting up to get ready to go out, maybe arriving back to the apartment drunk and giggly only to regret everything during the morning, but with the knowledge you were going to do the exact same.

He was facetiming you when he came across lots of fans wanting his attention, asking for pictures, until someone asked for you and Max pretended he didn’t listen, not wanting to answer things about his relationship, and the woman that asked wasn’t even sharp enough to catch your face on full display on his screen. 

Had Max known the chaos it would ensue not answering the simple question about you, maybe he’d reconsider, especially since Lando and him jumped from the paddock to a helicopter waiting to take them to the closing night of Tomorrowland where Martin Garrix was closing the last weekend.

User1: *attached video* pls pls you HAVE to see the discomfort on max face when someone asked him about y/n something is not right with parents

            User2: we all know he never speaks about her thoo, im keeping my hopes up!!!!

User4: I’m calling break up and good cuz I never liked her always acted like she was too good for the f1 world and never communicated w fans

            User3: that’s called being reserved moron!!1 you don’t see other wags taking pics with fans except maybe lily bc she’s a pro golfer!!!

You were sitting on your bed when Victoria sent a thread on Twitter (or X? or Threads? it’s confusing) pointing at every proof and detail about your supposed break up, ironically asking if you had something to inform the family since Max hadn’t said anything. 

With widened eyes and unable to contain the urge to see what people were saying about Max and you, two hours later you were still reading gossip sites and didn’t even hear the door of the penthouse opening with both Sassy and Jimmy running away from the feet of the bed. 

“Is this the welcome I get?” Max’s voice announced his arrival, catching you by surprise and throwing the phone in the air. 

“Fuck, Max! You scared the shit out of me, I hate you!” You laughed, finally realizing he was right in front of you and kneeling on the bed to attach your arms around his neck, allowing Max to grab you by the thighs and spin you around while you left small kisses on his cheeks.

“What were you reading? You looked very focused,” Max carefully placed you back on the mattress before throwing his body and groaning at the feeling of his muscles relaxing.

“Did you know we broke up?” You questioned your boyfriend whose blue eyes opened as much as they could, eyebrows raised and slightly moving his head in confusion. 

Max was confused but still demanded an answer on what was going on as he watched the corners of your mouth lifting and quiet giggles leaving them. 

“Look, it’s full of theories because I didn’t attend the last races and after you went with Lando to watch Martin, some fans started drawing their own conclusions!”

“Are they insane? Speculating about other people’s love lives is so rude, and just because I didn’t answer a question about you which I never do? People are crazy!” Max exclaimed on an irritated tone, but quickly caught your eyes, making him realize the people commenting were doing the exact same thing as you, just on a larger scale. 

“Baby, I think this time we are the drama…” You stated before the bedroom became quiet.

It was just Max and you staring at each other, recalling every time you eavesdropped a conversation that clearly wasn’t meant for either of you to hear, or discussed different theories on who had cheated, who had broken up with whom, why some partners were so young or looked almost identical. 

“Schatz, I am not going to lie,” Max started with a frown and serious face before continuing. “I am very proud of us” After letting it out Max started laughing, his cheeks flushing and placing his hand over his mouth to try to stifle the sounds. 

“Baby, this definitely means we made it!”

It was bound to happen, you were meant to eventually become a source of spectacle if you enjoyed gossiping about other people’s lives so much. 

After laughing to the brink of tears, Max kissed your lips; softly, slowly and sensually, making it hard to separate but he stared right into your eyes and asked you in all seriousness: “Should we feed the gossip? Wouldn’t it be fun?”

[mchlgayser]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 [tokyo revengers various]

⸻ cw: hurt/no comfort, triggering events and poor writing skills.

qeena's brief note: i'm here after nearly a month went MIA

໒꒰ྀི o̴̶̷̤ ̯o̴̶̷̤ ꒱ྀ১ first of all, thank you so much for 1.13k followers on tumblr (i honestly still can't believe it lol) you guys did a lot for me throughout my years here in this platform like bro i love you guys sm andddd thank uuuu! ik lots of my ole mutuals are no longer active but still, thank you so much to you guys for your continuous support 💙 and thanks to my readers (from jude girlies readers to anime girlies readers), thank you so much. last to wrap things up, here a small sorry gift from me after went missing, a tokyo revengers drabble! happy (sad) reading xoxo!! i love you <33

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐎: too preoccupied with his work.

The sun disappears behind the horizon and the daylight soon fades. The once cheerful home, turn out dingy and dejected. Tears spew down your cheeks to your chin as you examine one single paper lay before your eyes. The saying above appear clear "Divorce Paper" with your signature on the very right and below.

"So, this is it?" You sneer, teeth grinding against each other "Don't 'so, this is it' me right now, you know well none of this would've have to happen if you could be a bit more considerate." He did not say a word, look down on the floor as if it could've been the most entertaining object in the world.

"I'm busy, there's too much works I need to tend-"

"You said that last week, and the other month and even months before that! How come you're always busy with your job that you can't loiter around with me even for a minute. You left at early mornings, before the sun pops out, you're gone, out of sight and when you came back, you're tired, hot and needed rest. I'm sick of it, Manjiro. I can't do this anymore, ...so yeah, this is it."

He didn't notice the luggage you had beside you until you pull it forward "I'll have my lawyer pick the paper tomorrow morning. Please have is sign by then." A last drop of tear fall cascade down your cheek, like a stray until you wipe it off.

"Goodbye, Manjiro."

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈: cheated on you.

He said- No, he promised the last will be the last time. The last time you had to pick up the last shattering pieces of your dignity. The last time you had to faced the brutally honest reality of your marriage. He promised...

And yet, he broke it again. Today is supposed to be a good day. A happy day as it's a 'happy' birthday for a reason, right? But no, the happy day turned out to be your most saddening, fucked up moment in life. You left home to pick up a dress you custom made for yourself, to go buy your favorite cake at your favorite cafe. You didn't expect to come home, seeing him with your maid on the bed. She was half-naked, bra straps off her shoulder and his clothes thrash on the side.

It's a mess. The splat noise of the cake make a noisy sound and both of their ears perked up "Thought both of you had gone deaf that you both didn't hear me knock for five fucking minutes!" She frantically hid herself beside the bed, where you can't see her but you practically lunge at her, ripping strands after strands of her fake blonde hair "You fucking bitch. I picked you up at the gutter and this is how you fucking repayed me?!" Hanma tries to block into your attack but you punches him making him stumbled.

"And you, rot in hell with your fucking promises! I trusted you, not once, not twice but fucking three times!" He hold you by your shoulder but you slap his face away.

"Dont touch me! Don't you fucking dare..." Your punches ended weak and helpless. Tears pool beneath your eyes but no, they're not sad tears. It's resent, anger and betrayed tears.

"I'll file a divorce, fuck you and that bitch." You push him off, slapping him on the face one last time. The stone on the ring slash through his cheek and he bleed slightly "I'l fucking take half of your fortune, lustful bitch."

You turn to the woman "And you..." You peel the ring off of your ring finger aggressively and throw it to her chest "Keep that shit. I'm outta here." Hanma didn't try to say anything, just mumbling an apology before you walk out that door.

You turn back and look at him, he didn't look remorseful - he did, but it could never be enough to make you crawl to him once more "Shove your apology up your ass, Hanma."

𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐈: can't move on from his past.

At first, it was okay. You can even claim it to be perfect. But that was at first, soon everything gradually becoming worse. He started to get busy with works or as he claimed it. He told you he won't be coming home at a day but sometimes, he remained unresponsive for days. You don't know where he go until you heard from his close friend, Inupi that Kokonoi had been sleeping over at his house.

That means he was not so busy after all. You confronted him about it and as you thought he'll get angry, he remained calm and apologised. He just said that he wanted some time for himself. Of course, that's foreign coming from him as he's always been the type to want to stay close to you.

He still bought you monthly gifts just as he promised he would when you both first got married but they are just not the same anymore. He started giving you tulips when your favorite flower is gerberas. He started giving you white flavored chocolate, and that's weird. You always like the original flavor with nuts in it. Kokonoi just started making unusual mistakes.

Then, one day, he did it. The mistake he can't never undo. You both had Inupi over to your house because Kokonoi wanted to discuss something with him regarding business and when he left for the bathroom, Inupi unlock his phone revealing whom seem like a teenage girl with a peach blonde hair like Inupi and she's holding a bouquet of pink tulips "Sei, who's this?"

He turn to look at you, wondering who you were asking about "...Oh, this is Akane. My older sister. She passed away when she was 16." You nod your head, sadden to hear that.

"I'm sorry for your loss." You look at Inupi then to the ground "But, can't I know if she had any sort of relation with Kokonoi before I met him?" Inupi is confused as to why you'd ask that but he nodded his head.

"Koko used to like my sister."

And he came into the living room. You turn to look at him, almost livid "Is that so..." Both Kokonoi and Inupi look at you, confused.

"What is it?"

"Can't you move on?" Your question caught both of them by surprise, especially Kokonoi "You've been buying me stuff recently but they're never what I like. You got me pink tulips, cute hairbands and books when you should know damn well I like none of those."

"Did you think of her when you got me all of those? Or was it Sei's sister you're trying to give that gifts to?" He tried to explain himself but you kept cutting him, not wanting to hear none of his excuses.

"Please, just listen Akane!" The silence defeaned and the occasional sound of the wind whisper in the background as it soon faded. You look at him, wide eyes "Wow. You are incredible, Hajime. So. Fucking. Incredible." You tried to walk past him but he kept you back, trying his best to talk it out.

Inupi just sat there, dumbfounded. He only back in his trance when he heard a crash and the vase on the table smash to the ground with puddle of water and the pink tulips scatter on the wet carpet.

You stare down at the tulips, scoffing to yourself "This is enough. I'm not nobody's rebound, I have respect for myself... I can't do this, I won't." You push him off and tread to your bedroom, slamming the door shut leaving Kokonoi alone in the living room as Inupi too, got up and left, disappointed by his friend's behavior.

𝐑𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈: constant jealousy and overprotective.

You know what you put yourself into when you started dating the Ran Haitani. Ran can be obsessive with you, overly jealous with whom you befriends with, and got really protective over it. But you'd never imagine even in your wildest dream would he start to oppressed your freedom away from you - objecting your idea to meet anyone other than him, that includes your family members as well.

You put up with it, begrudgingly until today, it's an important date for you to attend and besides, it's been a while since you meet your family members so you went ahead, not bothering to tell him because you know well he will say no, no matter how hard you. You are having a great time with your family, chatting together after a while and leaving Ran texts from time to time but you certainly did not expect him to burst his way inside the venue, all rigid and mad.

How rude of him. He pull your hand and immediately get you out of there "Ran, stop. Ran, stop it!" You smack his back and he halt in his steps. He look back at you, glaring down at you with his jaw clenched.

"Just what the hell are you doing, Y/n? Going out behind my back like this and for what? To flirt and whoring around─" Smack, blood trickles from the corner of his lips when you slapped him across the face.

"You had no respect for my family, and for me, Ran Haitani. You failed us." He tried to put his hands around you shoulder but you pry his hands away "Don't. I put up with your ridiculous acts for years. I obeyed like a goddamn dog for you to disrespect me like this? You are fucking insane, Ran..."

"Love, I just don't want you to mixed along with that kind of people─"

"What kind of people, Ran? They're my family. I may have not like most of them but they're my family and the least you should do is respect them as I do. You barged in, acting like you're the main event, embarrassing me, and disrespected them. You may think you're above others but you're not. My family, we may not be as rich and lavish as you - if we're talking about lifestyle, we're alien to each other but I always expect you to be kind, Ran Haitani."

"You can't go around acting like the world revolve around you. I can't, and I'm sorry for that." You look up at him with pitiful eyes "I'm going now, good bye." You turn around and enters the same room he barged into a couple of minutes ago.

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 is open ✦ all rights reserved goes to @mchlgayser on tumblr.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

hide the sun - n. mackinnon

summary: there are some things nathan mackinnon can't cope very well with in life. one of them happens to be mia in hospital, and needless to say it's a whirlwind when it comes true. (f!oc!soccer player)

warnings: swearing, details of injury (stitches, concussion, temporary amnesia etc), mentions of vomiting, mentions of anxiety, brief mention of the pandemic, mentions of sports psychologists, mention of painkillers/hospitals/doctors, mentions of routines/small rituals, angst

word count: 13.8k (sheesh)

< a/n: this is for demi (the legend herself) @wyattjohnston as part of the summer fic exchange2k24! i hope you enjoy it! also a massive thank you for organising such a wholesome event in this little community!! >

Nate had lost count on how many times he’d had to dive into the nearest bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach in the last few hours. It seemed like every time he got close to stepping inside the hospital room his brain would play over what happened in his head and he’d relive it all again – as if once wasn’t enough. Only, his imagination was crueller than reality because the outcome would always be…Mia not conscious and talking in the hospital bed.

All is well, he had to keep reminding himself of that or the fine thread holding everything in check would spontaneously snap and he’d be inconsolable.

He’d gone through a lot in his life, but nothing had ever come close to him experiencing this level of fear before. And that in itself was a terrifying notion, because that fear was rooted in someone else’s well being. His happiness and his peace were attached to the woman in the hospital bed, not to himself, and he found that both profoundly moving and disturbing at the same time.

He flushed the toilet once more, stomach muscles aching, and shut his eyes, his head lolling against the wall behind him. 

He was well aware he was being a dick. Perhaps the biggest prick he’d ever been before in his entire life. And he was being all of that to the person he was wholeheartedly, irrevocably, hilariously in love with, too. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to forgive himself let alone ask for forgiveness from her.

He was still shaking and cold, and every time he shut his eyes that scene was played on repeat: the ball flying through the air, Mia jumping up to head it away but instead getting a sharp elbow to the temple (one Nate could safely say rivalled even Jacob Trouba’s weaponry) and going down cold. Nate knew it was bad just from the way she’d fallen – limbs loose, like a puppeteer had surrendered control of the strings – he’d had enough practice in his own field, and he hadn’t ever anticipated her also being on the receiving end of such a blow before. 

Of course, it had been her teammates first, frantic expressions on their faces as someone waved over the physios, and then the physios had waved over the paramedics and–

Nate inhaled a shuddering breath, a hand kneading away the pain in his chest. He’d never been one to admit he suffered with anxiety before, sure, he got them in bouts occasionally, but he’d never had it on this scale. Yet, another terrifying thing.

And to top all of that off, the guilt flowing through his veins was astronomical. He could feel it crushing his head from inside his skull, squeezing his heart and constricting his lungs and he just wanted to curl up somewhere and sob everything out of his system. Then, and only then would he be able to stomach the thought of seeing her: when he’d comprehended everything.

“Fucking dick, what are you doing?” He groaned into his hands, wiping away unshed tears and taking another shaky breath, this one making his chin wobble.

He was needed, he was painfully aware of that. Painfully. It scorched his insides and his consciousness didn’t hold back the self-belittling remarks in his head, but he couldn’t peel himself up from the floor. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to stand safely on his own legs, and he wasn’t entirely sure his stomach was strong enough just yet.

His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans, and in an attempt to take it out of his pocket it clattered to the floor, victim to his trembling hands.

He blinked once, twice, three times to clear the blurriness of his eyes, and read over the words on his screen. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it was the shortness and cryptic tone of the message that had him finding strength from somewhere to haul himself onto his feet, or whether he was just intrinsically waiting for something to get him moving.

All anyone had been told so far was that she was in a stable condition – still unconscious – and that any scans that had been done so far had been as clear as they could be, that being no internal bleeding or haemorrhaging or anything that could have possibly resulted from getting hit in the temple and then bashing your head on the floor. A concussion was inevitable, and even thinking about it, Nate knew it wasn’t going to be a merciful one. 

Nevertheless, he managed to pocket his phone, a damp hand on the wall of the cubicle keeping him steady until he could unlock the door without wanting to immediately dive back in and hide until Mia was given the all-clear. 

He wasn’t even sure he knew what he was doing or where he was going when he was following the overhead signs, but he somehow ended up in the hallway. There were benches in the corridor, settled just outside Mia’s room, and he stopped as he rounded the corner.

There was a crowd of people significantly larger than when he’d initially run away to the toilets, and one quick glance at people’s faces told him they were teammates. It wasn’t the entire team, just a few close friends and the team physio – enough to mean a queue would have to be formed when she wakes up, what with some of her family members already in there.

And if he was being completely honest, Nate wasn’t sure what to expect as he slowly walked towards them. They’d taken up all the seats on the bench and a few people were sitting on the floor against the wall, but no one was talking. In fact, everyone appeared to be looking straight forwards at the same spot on the wall, but there was nothing there.

It was Milly who saw him first. She offered a tight smile and waved at him, and when he got close enough, just about to lower himself down on the floor next to her, she spoke.

“The doctor came out around two minutes ago.” She whispered, and Nate felt all the air in his lungs freeze.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, the sharp pain in his chest rendering him immobile. Of course he wanted to know if she was okay, but what if she wasn’t? That was the question that his mind kept repeating on a loop, and if that was the case then these few seconds he’d use to gather himself meant they’d be the last few seconds where he was ignorant to that piece of information.

He swallowed, unable to look at Milly, and instead turned his attention to the spot on the wall in front of him that everyone else seemed to be focused on.

“She’s awake.”

“Is she oka–” His throat was horrendously dry and his voice was scratchy, but it was Milly’s gentle hand on his forearm that had him shutting up.

“She’s okay.”

Nate nodded, not even noticing Milly had rescinded her touch, and instead inhaled deeply, nodding absent-mindedly.

“She’s been assessed, her memory’s a little bit patchy from the last couple of days but there’s no concern. Her family’s in there now.” She paused, and even out of the corner of his eye he could tell she was clearly hesitant in saying something to him. Everyone seemed to have looked at him like that since the minute he’d walked through the hospital doors, and he was starting to find it rather irritating. It felt awfully similar to impatience, like every time he caught someone looking at him with pity, wanting to say something but ultimately deciding not to (probably because they didn’t know how he’d react), he just wanted to yell – like when you get stuck behind a slow walker and you’re behind schedule in the airport.

He blinked hard, once, twice, before using the heel of his palm to quickly wipe his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed the water welling up until the wall in front of him had become a blurred mess of blocked colours: red, green, blue, white. 

“Are you gonna go in?” Milly asked finally, and he was at least glad she made no comment on his tears.

He shook his head, not entirely trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking or wavering, or a complete breakdown – he’d be lying to himself immensely if he denied that wasn’t on the cards.

“Can’t.” He croaked, pulling his knees up to his chest, as best as he could given his height, “I’m not family, they won’t let me in.”

Milly considered his words for a moment before frowning, “Who won’t let you in?”

“Doctors. I’m not family, so…They don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“That’s shit—”

“They told me to come back in the morning, but I’m not sure I can leave.” He whispered, his hand massaging the tender spot in his chest as he fought another onslaught of watery eyes.

He felt like it might be a bit of an overreaction to cry at the knowledge she was okay, but he couldn’t quite get a handle on anything. It was a combination of stress, worry and fear that just spiralled his emotions out of his own control, like someone else was fiddling with the joystick of a controller somewhere. Yet, even knowing the root of it all, the mere thought of straying more than a corridor away from the door to Mia’s hospital room was…incomprehensibly daunting. 

It almost sent him down another path of panic, he could feel the grips of it begin to claw at his heart rate and the clamminess of his palms again when he even so much as thought about it. 

No, he physically couldn’t bring himself to leave, at least not yet.

He’d at least give it another think when her parents walk out with a real update instead of the formal crap the doctors had spewed him earlier: some vague nonsense about her being stable but unable to tell quite the extent of the damage just yet, and if they knew they certainly couldn’t tell him because he wasn’t her husband. 

If only he’d lied initially. He’d probably think about that for the rest of his life.

Milly hummed, pulling out her phone. If the circumstances had been different Nate probably would have been able to stop himself peeking over at what she was doing, but he was so despondent and distracted in his own head, those horrified replays still flickering on a loop in the back of his mind, that he couldn’t bring himself to be nosey for once.

“That’s not right,” Milly muttered under her breath, scrolling down several pages of text, “They should let you in, you know? There’s no laws against it, it’s just been cracked down on during the Pandemic.”

“Huh?” Nate tilted his head, his nose running slightly. Now that the worst of his tears had gently fizzled away, his eyelids were heavy and his eyes were burning with fatigue. In fact, he could feel the exhaustion settle into his bones, and he knew that in about an hour he could be asleep on the hospital floor, even with those fluorescent lights shining in his face.

“They should let you in.” Milly repeated, pushing herself up and walking over to the nearest desk before Nate could even think about responding.

He kept his mouth shut, watching her talk to the receptionist from afar, not able to hear the exact words over all the hubbub, but getting the general gist of it when Milly half-turned to point at him. He couldn’t help it when his mouth flattened into a straight line and his eyes awkwardly averted themselves…before immediately flicking back over to the conversing pair, slightly afraid he’d miss something yet shaking in his shoes  at the thought of a shaking head of denial.

Milly patted the counter, before wandering back over to the group of them all, teammates sitting up straighter in their chairs and against the wall, eager eyes fixed on their captain, anticipation shimmering in their eyes.

Nate swallowed nervously, his hands still shaking and stomach still rolling. He was sure he looked as pale as he felt, as sickly as he felt. Milly’s avoidance of his stare was unnerving.

“I think I’m gonna go.” Milly came to a standstill in front of Nate, her expression unreadable, and before Nate could even stutter out an urgent ‘why?’, someone down the line beat him to it.

“It’s getting late, and we know she’s okay.” Milly paused, not quite knowing what to say, “I don’t want to overwhelm her, and we’re not gonna see her tonight, anyway.”

Nate blinked, jaw ticking, and when he looked back up, the corridor was nearly deserted. Milly was hovering near him, watching as the last body filed around the corner, shoulders slumped as she disappeared from view, before turning to him, “They said the doctors would be less likely to let anyone in if there was a massive group of people outside the room. I don’t know it’s gonna help your chances now, but…”

Nate felt his jaw drop before he registered what he was doing, quickly clamping it shut with a grateful nod of his head, “Thank you.”

She shrugged, “It’s nothing.”

“You can stay, too, y’know–”

“Oh, no. I appreciate the offer, but if me not being here is the difference between you getting to see her or not, I’d rather not risk it.” She breathed a laugh, “Besides, I’ve got kids waiting for me at home.”

He nodded absently, and Milly had the strangest sense that he wasn’t completely there. He was inside his head, eyes a little bit unfocused as he looked in her general direction; his knee was bouncing, whether he’d noticed that or not she couldn’t tell – but she knew none of that would disappear immediately. At least, not until he’d be granted permission to enter the room and see her for himself.

And for that reason, she chose not to offer any words of comfort – they’d fall on deaf ears. Instead, she did something she’d been working up the courage to ask him for a while now..

“Um, this isn’t the right time to be asking this, I’m well aware, but you wouldn’t happen to know any sports psychologists I could get in touch with, would you?” 

For a harrowing and humiliating moment, Milly thought she’d just have to turn around, that the slight furrow of his brow as he stared relentlessly at that spot on the wall was just because she interrupted a comforting silence, but five seconds passed before she realised he was thinking.

His fingers fumbled with his phone as he removed it from a pocket, and she started, heart hammering in her chest when it slipped in his grip, before he caught it and switched it on.

“I know a few, actually. I have a few numbers if you want me to send them to you?”

She nodded, “Yes please.”

“Do you have a preference as to whether it’s a guy or–”

“No.”

She passed him her phone, watching as he typed in her phone number, still watching when her own phone lit up with three notifications of contacts he’d shared with her. When he passed her own phone back to her his eyes looked less troubled. They’d cleared up, less red than they had been, and he’d clearly been glad for a distraction.

“Thank you.” She breathed, managing a smile, “Hey, you can sit on the bench now everyone’s gone.”

Nate nodded, but made no move to get up. He wasn’t entirely sure why but the thought of sitting on the chairs instead of the floor felt way too real – it’d just solidify the reason that he had a right to sit there because of someone in one of the rooms, and his very bones felt heavier at that thought. 

Milly grinned, “She’ll be fine.” 

He said nothing to that, just gestured half-heartedly at the floor, “It’s cosier here.”

***

Mia had never been so achy and sore without exactly remembering what she’d done to feel those consequences. Everything hurt: her legs, her hips, her arms, her ribs, her head – gosh, her head! It felt like she’d been laid underneath a pneumatic drill and lived to tell the tale. Her nerve endings were on fire, mostly throughout her entire body and the sheer strength of the pain rendered her…well, she was so exhausted she couldn’t really cope with being awake for longer than a minute or so.

Her eyelids would get hot and droopy, and despite how hard she tried to keep herself awake, for her parent’s reassurances, the screaming agony in her head sent her eyes rolling and she succumbed to a brief period of sleep. Still, she didn’t feel a single ounce better having napped at all. If anything, each time she opened her eyes it felt as though the pain magnified for a brief second, like her body forgot it had been pumped with painkillers and she was just experiencing all the pain she possibly could.

That wasn’t even including the odd patches of her memory, though that she learnt through what she’d been told. Apparently this game wasn’t the one they’d won by a landslide – that had in fact been a month ago, yet she could still remember going to the grocery store three days ago and even though she was pretty sure something was missing from the hospital room, she couldn’t quite find the words for it and when she’d rather blearily croaked that concern she’d been thrown a quick ‘don’t think too much right now, honey’.

But she had seen the shared glance between her parents right before she passed out for the umpteenth time.

Needless to say, she did wake up with the answer right at the front of her brain – it felt remarkably like finding a pair of sunglasses you’d forgotten you owned.

“Whe–” Her eyebrows knitted together and she peeled her eyes open to…an empty chair. Followed by an empty room.

She shut her eyes, able to still picture the blank screened-TV on the back wall, the shuttered blinds to the windows on her right and the lone lamp on at the end of the room. She’s never had a concussion before, and with the way she was feeling right now she didn’t have any plans of ever having one again, at least if it was up to her.

She had no idea how Nate functioned. 

Nate. She tried to sit herself up properly in bed, the thing she’d been on the precipice of remembering flashing to the forefront of her mind, but all the motion did was send her stomach rolling, and before she could even think, her hands found the cardboard bowl laid on her lap, like someone had put it there in anticipation of this very moment, and heaved into the bowl. The pressure in her head sent a blinding pain from the temple with the bandage over it, right through her brain to her ear on the other side and all behind her eyes. She almost passed out again right there; she could feel the blood drain from her face and the familiar whooshing feeling as though her consciousness had fallen through her body and into the mattress beneath her. Her vision went black, spotty around the edges, but for some reason she could hear the sound of a door opening and closing, the rushed footsteps that only seemed to get louder and the hushed, reassuring voice in her ear as a warm hand helped lower her back against the pillows.

She knew just from the slight cloud of familiar aftershave that billowed around her exactly who it was. She might not be able to do much, think much or remember much at that moment, but Mia could recognise familiarity. It was like muscle memory, except her brain could decode it easily.

She kept her eyes shut and screwed up, willing the dizziness away – it gripped at the base of her throat and if she could compare the sensation to anything else, it was remarkably similar to how she imagined falling through a dark abyss whilst being unrolled from being tangled in some kind of tape. The scrunching up of her eyes, however, pulled awkwardly at something stuck to her temple; it sent a sharp stab of pain right across her cheekbone and into her hairline, and before she could even register what it was her fingers had found a padded sheet taped across the side of her face.

A band-aid.

Once the dizziness had subsided, she slowly peeled her eyes open, millimetre by millimetre, as if she was afraid something might jump out at her if she ripped them open too quickly.

Nate was sitting looking very awkward in the chair closest to the bed, one of his hands holding the cardboard bowl on Mia’s lap and the other gently tugging her hand away from her bandage. 

She could see there was a brief moment when she looked at him that something had changed, a window shattered somewhere perhaps. He looked like he’d been through the wringer: hair messed up (very uncharacteristic), cheeks somehow even paler than usual, eyes red, hands shaking, and fearful.

She couldn’t say for certain why he felt the latter but she could read it in his face, in his body language. She’d never seen him look so not-okay and put-together before.

In hindsight, it was not only cruel to do what she did next, but given the events of the day and how completely naive she was to other people’s experience of what happened, it most definitely was not the best idea:

“Are you a doctor?” She mumbled blearily. Mia was never really that great at pretending to do anything, whether it was a little white lie or something just to rile someone up, but there wasn’t much pretending about how tired she was or how confused she was in that moment; the blinking and the blank stare were all real, and in Nate’s eyes, borderline apocalyptic.

See, he’d been informed of her condition and spotty memory, but no one could say for certain just what was ‘in’ and what was ‘out’ because there were so many inconsistencies and no one had really wanted to poke around where there were gaps in case it just caused more frustration than hope, so this four word question? Completely believable.

He saw Mia laid in bed, and taking into consideration what he’d previously been told, he figured it made sense. That didn’t mean to say his face didn’t drop further or his stomach didn’t plummet to the floor below or he didn’t feel the familiar twang of bile rising or the world didn’t just flip on its axis.

His entire relationship flashed before his eyes: four years, a dog, a house, two cars, dates, holidays, vacations, inside jokes, and it all crumbled at his feet with a simple question.

He’d run through it in his head, the possibility that she might not remember him quite yet, and it was understandable. He wasn’t mad at all, in fact he was all too willing to take a step back and let her recover in a more familiar environment where he was potentially isolated from her and everything he knew, but that had only been a possibility. Now it was looking like a reality and the only thing he felt was panic. There were alarms blaring in his head, loud protests, screaming, yelling, tears.

And somehow all he could do was blink the tears back and create some space between himself and her bed. Emotionally he wasn’t sure how to proceed but he could physically feel an invisible hand pushing him back against the chair, away from her.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His eyes seemed well up of their own accord, and before he could even excuse himself from the room she spoke again.

“I was just kidding.” 

He blinked, his arms freezing from where he’d gone to push himself out of the chair, and he couldn’t really bring himself to move other than to drag his blurry eyes over to Mia, his jaw clenched and his guard still up just in case she still got it wrong.

He sniffled, inhaling through his nose, and not daring to ask if she was sure. But despite looking as though she’d been hit by a bus: a band-aid stuck right over her temple with stitches hidden underneath the plastic; purple eye bags; slow, lethargic blinking; an empty stare – Mia managed to look guilty. The corners of her mouth were pulled down, and her eyes were wide, almost like she couldn’t quite believe she’d pulled it off herself. 

And if he was being honest, Nate probably would have still had a hard time believing she actually did remember him if it wasn’t for her hand. It wasn’t something specific, but she’d placed it on his knee in a hurry when he’d made to push himself out of the chair, almost as if the prospect of him leaving wasn’t something to be desired. 

She was just as scared as he was.

Nate sniffled once more, allowing himself to settle into the chair and scoot forward again. The tears hadn’t disappeared, nor had the trembling, but his heart had eased up slightly once the realisation that, no, she hadn’t lost her memory of him had sunk in.

Then, and only then, he managed to speak, “You’re such a meanie.” It was more of a broken croak that had to be deciphered than something more intelligible than he would have liked, but after she winced at the volume of his voice already he found himself glad he sounded as broken as he felt.

She tried to smile, but her eyes fluttered shut of their own accord part way through the action, and she sighed, clearly completely drained, before rubbing her closed fist in a circle over her chest.

Sorry.

He shook his head despite the futility of it, and instead took the rather chilly, limp hand still resting on his knee into his grasp, leaning further forward so he was pretty much level with her. He allowed himself to breathe for a second, probably the first time he’d managed to do so since it had happened, and even though the tightness in his test remained, even though he still felt pretty emotional, he could at least look at her – like he’d done so many times in his life already – and know she was okay. 

Up close, he could see the plaster on her temple was darker in the centre and peeling at the edges slightly from where they’d pressed it into her hair, and on the other end he could see where someone – Mia herself – had started to pick at the edge, most likely out of curiosity. There was bruising along her cheekbone, and he knew from when he’d walked into the room in the first place that she had some other bruising on her jaw on the other side of her face from where she’d smacked into the grass.

That wasn’t even mentioning the dislocated shoulder, which, for now, was secured in a sling.

He was almost scared to touch her, not quite sure what would hurt or what wouldn’t, and before he could even deliberate any of that she was blinking again. Awake. She inhaled through her nose, wincing when her shoulder moved fractionally with the effort, and came to slowly. It was as though she was surveying the room for the first time again: her eyes were curious but not wide and she squinted at the light emanating from the little lamp, and Nate had to wait patiently for her to sweep her gaze around to him.

He tried a tight smile, his hands still clutching her free one in a warm embrace, and he could see the cogs benign to turn in her mind as she remembered when he’d come in. She eyed him sceptically, but this time (before his mind could run away from him) she gave him a lazy side-eye of sorts.

He breathed a laugh at the expression on her face, reaching over to smooth some of her hair down. He made sure to be gentle, not pulling on the hair too hard or pressing down on her head – rather just let it float back over to the right side of her parting, watching it fall as he did. He wasn’t quite sure what Mia had been expecting though because when he pulled back a little bit her mouth was pressed into a tight line.

“What?” He breathed a laugh, leaning forward on his palm to flick away more stray strands of hair. It seemed the closer he got the more he noticed that no one had taken particular care in brushing said strays out of her face, because he knew, even from looking at the way her nose kept twitching, that the tickling was intolerable. 

“When can we go home?” 

Nate swallowed, unable to look her in the eye as he shrugged. Nobody had told him anything. Her parents had left and told him as much as they could but they couldn’t say anything apart from the fact that she was okay – in fact, nobody even knew he was in here. His (almost) in-laws had gone to the cafeteria, running on nothing but coffee, and there hadn’t been anyone else really around when Nate heard the tell-tale sounds of…yeah. Needless to say he hadn’t really thought twice about bursting into the room to help her. She wouldn’t have if the situation was reversed, though from experience she did tend to lie to the medical professionals and just say they were married, something that had rather inconveniently slipped his mind in his panic-fueled state.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, if the quietness of his voice could even be considered such a thing. A fairy-whisper, perhaps: delicate, blink and you’ll miss it kind thing, “You’re on stroke watch, sweetheart, I don’t think it’ll be for another day or two.”

Her eyes shut again, and if it wasn’t for the tick in her jaw, Nate would have guessed she’d just fallen unconscious again.

“Are you okay?” He’d said them before he could stop himself. They’d been on the very tip of his tongue all day nearly, and his will had worn so low that he’d just given up and given in.

In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting much of a reply. Mainly because he knew concussions were hell on earth, especially fresh ones as bad as this, but also because she’d been poked, prodded, sewn up, and asked things already. She must be sick of it all, but…he had to know. 

She kept her eyes shut but her free shoulder shrugged as best as it could, “Hurts.” She mouthed.

Nate nodded, resisting the insurmountable urge to squeeze her hand and take all the pain from her, “Tap my hand twice for yes and once for no, ‘kay?” 

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards briefly, and he couldn’t help himself when he dropped a quick kiss on the back of her hand – though he couldn’t say for sure if it was supposed to help her more or help him more. 

Tap-tap.

“Do you need me to do anything? Get anything for you?”

She seemed to think about it for a second before pointing at something on the far end of the room and tapping his palm once.

He frowned. Lamp, no?

“Lamp off?” He thought out loud, pushing himself out of his chair eagerly when she tapped his palm twice again.

The thought of using the torch on his phone didn’t really occur to him when he was blindly trying to make his way back to his seat, and much to Mia’s dark amusement he walked into the end of the bed and tripped over the legs of two chairs on his way back. 

“Anything else?”

Tap.

He waved his hand in the dark near where he guessed her arm to still be held up, and dragged his fingers up her forearm to interlock their hands like before. 

“Is the dark better?”

Tap-tap.

He sighed. It wasn’t because he was fed up – not one of those sighs – or because he was relieved, per se. It almost felt like an instinct or a habit, like when he gets into bed and manages to find a comfy position, or when he steps out onto the ice first thing in the morning when no one else is around. It was a sigh of satisfaction, yet he didn’t feel at all satisfied by anything. Sure, he was happy that he’d adjusted something to Mia’s liking, but there was so much more he wanted to know.

Where did she hurt? How much did it hurt? Did she remember last night? Is she gonna recover in time for the play-offs? 

They weren’t yes or no answers, and the last thing he wanted was to bother her. She needed the peace and quiet and the dark and cold and someone to make sure she wasn’t going to stroke like someone had off-handedly said in the hallway. Nate knew he wasn’t the only person who could give her that, but he was glad it was him sitting there holding her hand and listening intently to the sound of her breathing and the rustling of her pillow.

It sounds crazy, he knows that, but he was horrified. Less than fifteen minutes ago he was so sure something life-changing had happened that meant he wouldn’t be allowed here. He knew head injuries were unpredictable, and he knew he should be somewhat irritated for the stunt she pulled earlier, asking if he was a doctor, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be so. That one interaction had alleviated the worries and concerns he’d had – the ones that were driving him to the brink of panic attacks pretty much – more than any words anyone had spoken to him over the entirety of the night so far.

It meant Mia was still Mia, and even though she might have changed, she was still the same person. And he was going to sit with her in the dark, holding her hand, pretending he was now okay, for as long as he was allowed–

“Are you okay?”

Even in the dark his eyes turned to look at where they knew she was. He was speechless for a few seconds having thought she was asleep and stuck so far in his own head that he hadn’t even considered the alternative.

He just hummed, which earned him a meaningful tap on the palm.

No.

“It was just scary for a minute, but I’m okay now.” Then he shook his head, almost-scoffing, “I should be asking you that.”

There was a half-hearted sigh, “Been better.”

***

Mia was sick and tired of the injuries after two days at home, bed-bound by a rather strict blonde that had a penchant for frowning and putting his hands on his hips when she suggested getting up and moving around. In all fairness, she could see where he was coming from, but in her defence she needed to know she was capable of a quick lap around the house, headaches and shoulder pains be damned. 

To have gone from training numerous hours per week – per day, in fact – to suddenly not being able to cope with being in a sunlit house in a room that wasn’t the bathroom or the bedroom. She was going stir crazy, and boredom was going to be her demise, she knew it. She could feel it atrophying her soul already and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take being holed up in bed, not allowed to use screens or read or think.

Doctor’s orders. 

Although, having said all of that, Mia did find herself waking up from a nap she didn’t remember succumbing to most of the time. She must have slept on and off all day for two days, but it felt like she’d not even shut her eyes for an entire week. And the pain, oh, the pain.

Her shoulder ached each time she so much as tensed something, though that was the least of it: the dislocation hadn’t been too ugly – quickly put back in, no soft-tissue damage. Didn’t stop it hurting, though. The biggest issue, Mia couldn’t quite get a hold of. She couldn’t decipher what was the concussion, what was the temple laceration or what was the bump on the head from the ground. Somewhere along the lines, all the pain blurred into one and it just felt like her head was splitting open from the inside.

The door creaked open gently, firstly with a soft pop, like the familiar noise of when Barney would push it open with his muzzle and the handle would click out of its place, before a familiar soft pat-pat of paws could be heard vaguely padding across the carpet. It if wasn’t for Nate’s strict rule-abiding of orders (he did right, to be honest), the sound of Barney preparing himself to jump onto the bed wouldn’t have been heard. In fact, if it wasn’t for the noise of the door clicking open, Mia probably wouldn’t have blinked awake again. 

It was dark outside, the lights from the garden shining through under the blackout blinds. It wasn’t bright enough to trigger anymore headaches or a potential migraine, what with the bouncing agony from her bruises and bumps doing enough already, but it was enough to cast a sliver of dull light across the bedspread.

Mia reached out blindly, patting the duvet next to her, already anticipating the soft bark of acknowledgement before the toffee spaniel had made his way into her personal space, his nose pressed against her thigh as he laid out right next to her. She ran a loving hand through his fur.

Nate hadn’t let Barney in the room without him watching, mostly because he was a little unsure as to whether the newly-trained dog would adhere to the ‘calm’ rule he’d hoped to implement somehow, and Mia had commented on it, a quick ‘he’s a dog, they have senses for this kind of thing’, and all Nate did was sigh and watch on with a worried gaze. Needless to say, Barney hadn’t barked in her face excitedly or run across the bed or unintentionally nudged anything he shouldn’t have done, and Mia couldn’t quite tell if he was in the room now because Nate had let him upstairs or if it was just a happy accident.

Barney sniffed, and Mia paused, holding her breath in the darkness. At the same time, Barney’s ears flopped and the steps creaked, before an unmissable hiss of, “Barney?” could be heard from further down the hallway.

She felt her eyes shut again, sleep begging to reach out and pull her under again – it was the dog, he was just so warm and cuddly she was practically being lulled back to sleep with his rhythmic breathing – but she resisted, instead focusing on the hand woven into his fur until Nate inevitably noticed the crack in the door.

He didn’t say anything when he opened the door even further, didn’t say anything when he crept around to his side of the bed before pulling himself onto the mattress, the covers dipping with his weight. Barney looked up at him, and Mia felt rather than saw his hand also go to pet the dog between them.

She lifted her hand, before briefly ticking his arm to let him know she was awake, and cracked her eyes open. 

He was in his pyjamas, clearly already having showered. He’d taken to using the spare bathroom instead of the en-suite, completely adamant on not wanting to disturb Mia even though she’d told him she wouldn’t mind, and Mia knew, probably better than most people, that it was difficult to change Nate’s mind when he’d already decided what he was gonna do. 

“Did Barney wake you up?” He whispered, pushing himself further into the bedding. Mia could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, could smell the shower gel and shampoo he liked. He’d literally just gotten out of the shower.

If she had more energy she would have turned to look at him: there was something about post-shower Nathan MacKinnon that Mia found downright irresistible. In four years, she still hadn’t managed to figure out what it was, but it definitely had something to do with the flushed cheeks,  damp hair and untamed curls. 

As much as he tried to tidy it with gel, Nate couldn’t escape the fact that his hair could be wild, and in the last couple of years it had only gotten worse.

“No, I was already awake.” She whispered, the force of trying to talk still putting more pressure on her bumps and cuts. Whenever she spoke out loud it felt like her eyes were going to pop out of her head and her ears were going to bleed. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world.

She turned her head in his direction, just able to make out the silhouette of his side profile: crooked nose, damp Prince hair, philtrum, mouth, chin. She couldn’t turn her head too much to the side, the lump around the back of her head making getting comfy even against a pillow difficult, yet the slight movement, slight rustle of the sheets had him almost instantly turning towards her. That was something she’d noticed that had changed: he seemed to jump at anything she did, whether it be to reach a hand out to grab her water bottle or simply turn to look at him.

She could imagine the wide eyed gaze as he scanned her face for signs of pain until he relaxed when he realised that all it was was shuffling. The alarm bells were still ringing.

There was a brief pause, and Mia took her hand out of Barney’s fur to poke Nate in the ribs. He jumped at the contact, still unused to the darkness, and grabbed her hand to stop her doing it again, breathing a soft, amused laugh, “Liar.”

“I was gonna wake up soon anyway.” 

“You hungry?” 

“Yeah.”

Mia felt herself relax under his touch, his fingers playing with hers, finding their way in the dark across the back of her hands right around to her palms before straightening her fingers and placing a delicate yet hurried kiss to the back of her hand. She didn’t even have enough time to query exactly what it was he was about to do before he’d pushed himself up off the bed, Barney sitting attentively, and placed his hands on his hips leisurely. 

“You want anything specific?” Nate asked, absent-mindedly placing his leg on the bed to stretch out his hamstring. 

“What did you have?”

“Chicken and chorizo pasta.”

“Can I have some of that, please? It sounds so good right now.”

There was a muffled sound, crossed between a sarcastic scoff and a snort of laughter, “No. You absolutely cannot have it right now–”

“No–”

“Yeah, we’re gonna do your dressing first. C’mon.”

Mia groaned, pulling the duvet back up to her chin to give her some protection before Nate would undoubtedly just rip it off her and pick her up, like he had the past four times he’d changed her dressing. The first time she did it there was little resistance from her end, mostly because she had no idea that cleaning the wound was going to be that nauseating, but also because she literally couldn’t be bothered trying to resist a hockey player that boarded men twice her size on a regular basis. 

Now, though? Not only did she despise the entire process, but she couldn’t deny the fact that being difficult was rather amusing for her – mostly because of how Nate handled it, because he handles it. She’s never heard him talk so much yet so calmly all whilst trying to scoop her up without simultaneously accidentally hurting her.

“-five seconds and it’ll be done until tomorrow, and if you think about it–”  he made his way around to Mia’s side of the bed and she felt her face screw up in dread almost automatically when he began trying to tug at the duvet she’d gripped as tightly as she could, “-if you really think about it, the food is kind of like a reward, and it’s better to get it done now rather than spend the next, like, forty minutes worrying about it–” he sighed, cutting himself off and staring at the scene in front of him. Mia knew him well enough to know stillness and silence meant he was thinking.

“What are you–Put me down.” Mia watched as Barney scurried off the bed, the duvet disappearing under him as Nate managed to force his arms underneath her body to lift her up, duvet and all. 

“Never.” He breathed in her ear before laughing like a Disney villain, managing to somehow look down at his feet to make sure he didn’t trip and cause another trip to the ER, and no matter how much she moaned and groaned, Nate didn’t put her down until he’d made it to the bathroom and placed her ever-so-gently on top of the lid of the toilet.

It was cold against the plastic, much colder than the sanctuary of the bed with a dog cuddled up to her side, and Mia shivered in her shorts and t-shirt, goosebumps arising on her skin – something that didn’t exactly go unnoticed by Nate. He took one look at her shivering and opened the bathroom blinds to let in some dull, natural light before turning around and grabbing a sweatshirt from the pile of clothes on the floor he hadn’t had chance to tidy away, what with the hustle and bustle of trying to look after everyone (not that he minded; in fact, Nate loved looking after Mia, even though he’d never voice it, but the circumstances surrounding the situation were a little too shitty for his liking), and tossed it to her.

What he really wanted to do was tell her to lift her arms over her head, but he knew coddling someone who already hated people doing things for them would only make the irritation worse, and instead reached for the basket of supplies he’d been given from the hospital, along with the set of instructions and the bowl for Mia as a ‘just in case’...the last thing anyone wanted, including Barney, was a repeat of the first time he’d done this. 

He could still picture it so clearly in his head.

When he turned back around, trying to read the pamphlet by moonlight and garden-light, Mia had her eyes closed and was running her fingers through her hair, wincing each time she accidentally pulled a knot. 

He couldn’t help watching her for a moment, almost mesmerised that someone could power through that amount of pain administered by themselves. Gosh, he loved her to smithereens.

“You ready?” He propped himself on the edge of the bathtub, back hunched over slightly to get himself eye-level with the plaster stuck to her temple. It was thick, most likely incredibly uncomfortable, and half-stuck in her hair. It was the only way the stitches into her hairline would be protected when she was laid down, or doing anything, really.

She nodded, and he kept his eyes fixated on her side profile, eager to drink in any possible changes in her expression that meant she was uncomfortable with anything he did. Sometimes it was a miniscule scrunch of her brows, other times it was an involuntary wince displayed by her mouth. He’d noticed her breathing changed when she was in pain too, which was a rather odd thing to come to recognise – watching someone you cared about hurt was one thing, but to watch them be in pain so constantly that you can recognise the little things? It was strange.

“I’m so hungry.” Was all she said, scooping her hair to the other side as he leant forwards to start to pick at one of the edges. It didn’t take much. He wasn’t even sure if Mia was aware she was doing it, but there was one edge right above her cheekbone that had been so obviously picked at that all he really had to do was grab onto the corner and slowly and cautiously pull. He kept one palm on the side of her head at all times, ensuring her hair remained out of the stickiness, his eyes darting from what he was doing to her face every few seconds.

Once he’d removed the plaster completely he folded it in half, balancing it on the side of the bath before doing something he’d not been able to do yet: dampen a clean washcloth with water, and gently dab the stitches. 

Mia’s face contorted almost immediately, the corners of her eyes crinkled and her mouth pulled up at the corners in a grimace, but she held still, keeping her gaze level and forward, hands clutching the bowl on her lap.

“Let me know if you want me to take a break or if I’m pressing too hard, okay?” Nate murmured softly, still dabbing at the wound.

He was never really one to be able to stomach the sight of wounds – at games he didn’t really have a choice, but at least then he could avert his eyes when he saw something that made his stomach turn and his head spin. This time was a little bit different, in fact, this entire situation was completely different because it was one thing thinking about it and another thing doing it for Mia. He had to do this, partly because he wasn’t about to let Mia do it herself, but mostly because he didn’t trust anyone else not to press too hard or to take as much care in the job as he did. It wasn’t a lot, but he made sure he did it right and softly.

It was the absolute least he could do after sneaking away for an hour here and there to practise. Mel Landeskog had offered to come over and keep watch when he wasn’t there, and the entire time he was gone he’d been anxiously checking his phone a hundred times a minute, waiting for a heart-stopping message to come through, and he hadn't managed to tear himself away again. The guilt was one thing, but the anxiety just ate him up from the inside. 

Tomorrow he decided he’d just work out in the bedroom – at least it’d give Mia something to watch when the TV was off-limits. 

“You’re doing great.” Mia sighed, peeling open the eye closest to him and shooting an amused glance in his direction. She was exhausted, but she still managed to find the effort bother to ease his concerns, “I think tomorrow…” She trailed off, silently hissing when Nate dabbed the laceration once more.

“Sorry.” He cringed, putting the washcloth down.

“It’s fine. Tomorrow I wanna move downstairs.” She got out, relaxing once she’d taken note of the put away cloth, and turned her body towards him.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with his face but it was clearly something that warranted Mia to start spouting words so quickly he wasn’t entirely sure she was able to do with that bad of a concussion, “The curtains in the front room can stay shut but I kind of want to slowly let myself get used to some light again, and I won’t watch TV or anything.” 

He swallowed, going to pick up the dry washcloth, “What’s wrong with staying in bed?”

She rolled her eyes, “It’s shit, I feel like I’m missing out on what’s going on.”

Nate tilted his head curiously, “Nothing’s going on, though. Are you trying to tell me you’ve got FOMO from staying in the bedroom?”

“Yeah. I feel like our living room is, like, the life of this house. Everything happens downstairs.” She reasoned, returning back to her usual position when he raised the washcloth.

“Everything, huh?” He breathed, slowly wiping away the beads of water on her stitches, and those that had escaped and ran down to her jaw, “Guess that means you’ll have to camp out on the couch then. Can't have you miss anything, can we?”

Mia rolled her eyes, and Nate smirked to himself, pleased that she was clearly well enough to tolerate a bit of humour. It was the most alive she’d looked since it happened: she had more colour in her cheeks, something he’d even noticed through the constant darkness; her awake periods were longer than her asleep periods, and she was speaking more. Granted, that was an improvement from that very morning, but she was getting better at a quicker rate than he’d anticipated. Every hour seemed to ease the tightness in his chest, at least until he remembered–

Yep. There it is. The painful twinge of guilt that always seemed to strike him when he least expected it.

He swallowed anxiously, suddenly aware of a breeze against his torso and the faint tugging of his cotton shirt. The distance from where he was sitting on the edge of the bath to the toilet seat where Mia was sitting wasn’t a large one by any means, but it was still tricky enough for him to sit on the very edge to ensure he wasn’t stretching – it was why he had to look down at the culprit, half-expecting it to be Barney slobbering everywhere, and was pleasantly surprised to find a familiar hand trying to get his attention.

He pulled his own hand away from Mia’s head, placing the cloth on the side of the bath once he was satisfied the stitches were dry again before turning back to Mia to give her his full attention. She hadn’t bothered to turn her head, but was instead looking at him out of the corner of her eye, brow narrowed and a slightly suspicious look on her face.

“What?” He asked, automatically wiping at his cheek, expecting a streak of dirt to follow on his palm. Nothing.

Mia just blinked, “Are you okay? You kind of spaced out for a bit then.”

“Spaced out?” He echoed, shaking his head. 

Mia hummed, something subtly changing in her expression, “Away with the fairies.”

“Haven’t heard that one in a while.” He raised his brows before letting them drop. He wondered briefly if she was buying his ‘chill’ persona at that moment, hidden in the dark with no real way of knowing what face he was pulling. His back was to the light so he knew he was mostly shrouded in darkness – protected from an observant eye.

The same observant eye that clearly didn’t let up, no matter how splotchy her memory or how much pain she was in, because he heard her tilt her head at him, he heard her brain call him a ‘liar’ and he heard her breathe an internal sigh.

“I’m fine.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. The action felt pathetic, like something a stroppy teenager might do after getting scolded. 

Her silence said everything and nothing at the same time.

“I am. I guess I’m just coming to terms with the fact that this is how awful you must feel when I’m in your position after a game.” He mumbled it, but Mia still managed to pick his words out pretty easily – as well as the blatant pretence he immediately then displayed when he turned his attention purposefully to the basket at his feet, bending to pick up a tub of vaseline before taking the lid off and washing his hands once more.

She knew enough to know that when he acted nonchalant after admitting something was bothering him, no matter how little a thing it might seem, that sometimes he just needed that extra little dose of reassurance.

“At least you can understand why I banned you from getting head injuries, then.” She answered, turning herself so she was facing forwards once more, allowing him access to the stitches.

Nate paused, an uncertain ‘meh’ falling out of his mouth, which earned him an incredibly sharp look, “I mean I can, but now I could probably guess you get why I can’t promise you anything because most of these head injuries come from other people.” He was met with silence but he could feel the irritation practically emanating off Mia. Whenever he was right in situations where they’d had small disagreements here and there, usually about some pedantic aspect like this one, she always went dead-silent when he brought up something true. It wasn’t necessarily that she hadn’t thought of it, because the chances were that she had and it was that thing that drove her crazy, but it was knowing what she was asking was completely out of anyone’s control.

“Oh, and for the record,” Nate started, carefully spreading the vaseline against her skin and fighting the uncomfortable tingling in his toes when he ran his finger over the stitches, “I’m also banning you from getting head injuries.”

“I can try.”

He grinned, “‘S all I ask.”

“Me too.”

***

Mia wasn’t sure how long he’d been doing his little…routine. 

Every time he left a room she was in, whether it was to go to another room to pick something up and bring it back or to leave the house entirely, he’d started doing some odd things. First he’d watch her – this, she noticed him doing out of the corner of her eye – like he was giving her a once-over with a pair of X-Ray goggles, no matter how far away from her he was. Then, he’d pretend to look for something, a tissue, maybe, that just happened to be within a five foot radius of where she was sitting, and he used that ploy as an excuse to ‘walk by’ and plant a very quick kiss on the top of her head.

It might not seem odd to anyone else, but it was odd to Mia, mostly because Nate was never really the type to do stuff like that, much less when he was simply leaving the room. He might have done it if she was busy with something and he was off to the gym for an hour or two, but never for simple things. He just wasn’t that type of person.

At first she’d thought nothing of it. Maybe he just liked having her downstairs instead of shut up in the bedroom in the dark all day? That was certainly plausible. 

But then each time he did it, the action seemed to become more noticeable. Like when you hear something irritating in the background – a bird or a screechy voice – and then when you try to block it out your ears seem completely intent on honing in on that one singular thing until it becomes so glaringly obvious and unignorable that you just can’t stand it anymore. The only difference was that Mia could tolerate it, she could definitely tolerate it, in fact she welcomed it. Not only was it a rare and casual display of affection, but it was rare that they’d both be off work for this length of time and be in the house together. 

It was usually an impossible juggle of calendars and flights.

Then, because she’d noticed his little routine, she waited for it. There were a couple of times where he’d carried it out before he even announced he was leaving, a couple of times where he said where he was going first, and then – most interestingly – there were several occasions where he’d stepped out of the room, not said anything, frozen a step out of the doorway and come striding back in with intent and purpose before kissing her on the mouth or cheek depending on what she was doing. It was like he physically couldn’t stomach the thought of not completing his ritual.

It was remarkably similar to his behaviour on game days: he had a minute by minute schedule and order to do things so deeply ingrained in his mind that completing one thing slightly differently would throw everything off completely. He’d obsess over one thing and he wouldn’t be able to focus properly until he’d done it ‘right’, or he’d take it as a sign something bad was going to happen. 

One time he’d almost burnt the chicken in the oven and managed to assume that because he’d eaten burnt chicken (Mia had argued that it was charred nicely – properly done) that his pregame coffee wouldn’t have the same effect and he’d accidentally let his bowels go on the ice, and he’d be worrying about it for the entire game.

There was also the habit he’d taken to performing on Mia’s matchdays, at least when he was there to do it. He’d wake up around the same time Mia did and he insisted on filling her water bottle ready to go and he insisted on seeing her out the door (a kiss accompanied with a rather humorous but altogether fond, “kill ‘em”). If she was being completely honest, Mia found more familiarity in his behaviour this time around with her pre-game thing.

“Alright, come on.” It was Nate’s voice as he threw his car keys up and down, the metal jangling as he somehow materialised right in front of Mia, holding a hand out for her to grab. 

She paused, staring for a moment before following his arm to his face, raising a confused eyebrow. 

Come on? Come on where? As far as she was aware they didn’t have any plans, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to have plans considering her brain detested any kind of light brighter than a golden, dim one you might find in a lamp – and that wasn’t even mentioning noise. Anything louder than Barney’s huffing was a no-go if she wanted to have a headache-free day, and that very much included talking.

Nate had never been so quiet around her before, and she couldn’t deny the fact that it was amusing to watch him go to talk before remembering he had to whisper. He’d open his mouth and make a noise, the first sound in a word, and immediately clamp his mouth shut and hunch his shoulders, almost wincing for Mia. 

“Hospital.” Nate murmured softly, splaying his palm to encourage her to take it, and Mia’s mind went blank.

It must have showed on her face because Nate swallowed, the smile on his face diminishing, a rather helpless, “Remember? Your stitches are getting taken out today.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Mia blinked, the lie shockingly falling out of her mouth before she could catch it, “And today is…”

“Wednesday.” Whatever trace of a smile was left on his face that hadn’t already been wiped was completely gone, replaced by concerned brows and a flat line of a mouth.

“Yeah.” Mia didn’t say anything else, mostly out of fear of stressing him out even more, but partly because she wasn’t sure what else could be said.

She reached for his waiting hand, the warmth from his skin seeping into hers, and it was only as she’d stood up – perhaps a little too quickly because the blood rushed to her head – that she could recognise the look on his face was a little more familiar. He was still getting used to the usual worries of watching someone else heal.

“Confusion and brain fog is pretty normal, y’know?” He framed it like a question, but they both knew he was reassuring the little voice in both their heads that screamed something deeper was clearly wrong. Mia just nodded, accepting the baseball cap, eye mask and sunshades he’d just handed her, trying her best not to wobble when he ever-so-carefully tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

There was something about his close proximity that she’d had to endure within the last few days that subtly changed something for her – maybe it was the vulnerability of this entire ordeal; she’d reached a new level of Nate having to look after her considering the fact that she was almost fully dependent on him. In her eyes a switch had been flicked somewhere, and their relationship had just rocketed upwards in intensity. Every little glance he’d snuck at her, even if it was just to check to see if she was okay, and every little thoughtful gesture he’d carried out, all combined with the closer proximity and steady, reassuring hand made her feel a little woozy in a completely different way.

It was why she hurriedly put the cap on so she wouldn’t have to look at him, because she knew what those damned pale blue eyes were doing, and also why she didn’t bother asking about the eye mask, although the use of that became abundantly clear when she climbed into the car.

He wanted to hide the sun for her.

***

“What about your memory? Has any of that changed for you yet, or do you still have those same holes we identified earlier?” 

Mia winced, taking the hand offered to her and squeezed, determined not to look like she was in too much pain. The doctor that was removing her stitches was doing an alright job (she thought at least, she couldn’t say she was an expert), but there was something almost nauseating about the tugging she could feel on the side of her head, especially with how sore and tender her temple already was. 

And the questions weren’t helping, not at all. 

She inhaled through her nose, fighting to keep her voice even, “Some of it’s changed, I guess.” Nate squeezed back three times, “I can remember more of that morning and the lead up days, but I still have moments where I…it’s brain fog, I guess.”

“Oh, yes,” the doctor voiced, and the lack of shock and concern in their voice almost had Mia raising a celebratory fist, “that’s understandable and expected, just as long as it wasn’t anything too important or too obvious?”

“No, I just forgot what day it was.”

The doctor let out a low chuckle, “I think we’ve all been there. There’s nothing like showing up for work on your off-day because you’d been so busy you forgot to check the date. It’s both a blessing and a curse.”

“Tell me about it.” Mia muttered under her breath, almost deaf to the low laughs from both sides of her as she kept her eyes screwed shut. The blinds in the room were all open, and to top that off the doctor had one of those head torches on, the light glaring even through her closed eyelids. It kept bouncing around her vision as they moved their head, presumably to look at the tray to their right and then to look back at Mia’s head and so on, and she could feel the familiar niggle of something start to prick at the back of her head.

“Okay, stitches are out. Just one moment and I’ll shut the blinds for you.” She felt her own shoulders deflate of their own accord, the tension quite literally seeping out of her once she heard the wheel of the office chair followed by the pair of footsteps walking towards the windows.

It was only when the room appeared to be enveloped in darkness that she opened her eyes. Nate had the stitch-care pamphlet in his hand again, a pen in the pocket of his shirt, and even as the doctor was explaining the next steps for care he wasn’t opting to write much down. Mia half suspected he’d already done extensive research and memorised the care leaflets anyway, but he was always gonna be drinking in information from someone more qualified than what his laptop told him.

The grip he had on her hand had loosened, and the more she looked at him, Mia could see that it was his shoulders that seemed to be tense. It almost looked as though her uncomfortability had been passed directly to him because he was sitting pinstraight in the chair pulled up and he looked so dead serious Mia felt the urge to poke him in the ribs. Let him know he needed to chill a bit more.

It wasn’t anything the doctor was saying, in fact, it couldn’t have been anything the doctor was saying because that body language and that stern, rather timid look on his face didn’t let up, not even three hours later when Mia had curled up on the couch and Nate had taken residence wedged at the other end with a bowl of food – Mia’s to be precise. He’d given her too much and she couldn’t finish it without thinking it was all gonna come back up later, so he’d hoovered up the last of it.

He still looked on edge about something.

So she poked him with her foot, toes meeting a solid thigh.

He chewed, the muscles in his jaw working as his neck snapped to look at her. There was a slight crack in his demeanour then, that brief moment where he thought she was getting his attention for the worst kind of reason, but it had dissolved before she could dwell on it too much.

“Why are you being weird?” She asked, tilting her head and faking an overly suspicious glance that had him freezing right where he was.

His eyes darted across her face, seemingly searching for something to grab on to, but when he came up with nothing he finished his mouthful and shook his head, fiercely denying her accusation.

“I’m not being weird.” He mumbled, a crease between his brows.

Mia pulled a face, “You’re being so weird.”

“How am I being weird?”

Mia gaped, eyes darting to his bowl when his hand trembled and his fork clinked against the porcelain. That one little weakness was enough proof because he blinked at his hand before almost comically turning towards Mia, his cheeks a little red.

“That for one.” Mia pointed out, “And that thing you do when you leave the room, what’s that about? And you were being super weird at the doctor's appointment the other day.”

He huffed a laugh, still staring at her incredulously, “Aren’t you chatty today?”

“I feel so much better.”

“Can tell, you haven’t shut up.”

“I’ve got, like, two weeks of talking to get out of my system, don’t I?” She paused, taking a breath, “Even so, you haven’t answered my question.” Another foot poke.

He hesitated, before ultimately deciding to put his bowl on the coffee table in front of them. Mia watched every move carefully, a hint of foreboding settling in her bones as he reached over to mute the TV. She thought breaching the topic of Nate’s weirdness wouldn’t bring this level of wracked nerves, or this unreached height of seriousness – there wasn’t anything she was aware of that warranted him to do all of those things and then also turn to face her.

“Okay, so, you know how you couldn’t remember stuff after the head injuries, and then you said you could remember stuff at the hospital?” 

Mia nodded, cemented in her spot, unable to say anything.

“How much do you remember of the night before?” 

Mia had seen movies like this: whenever a character asked a question of that gravity with that grave, worried expression on their face, there was always a catastrophic confession coming next.

The difference between those kinds of movie scenes and this one was that Mia remembered the night before. And none of what she remembered would require this level of…solemnity. At all. Absolutely none of it.

She came home from work, they both talked about their days, a movie with dinner, then bedtime. Nothing spectacular.

“Everything.” She said, and this time it was her turn to frown, “Why?”

Nate inhaled, scratching his chin unsurely, before looking her straight in the eye, and with a completely flat voice spat out – with conviction – “I think we’re fighting.”

Mia waited for a moment, just the one, thinking maybe he’d say he was joking or he’d take it back, and when it became clear he wasn’t going to, she laughed.

He had to be joking.

And the fact that he let out a few breaths of laughter himself made her think that he was, but all of that came to a grinding halt when he shut up and instead patted her shin sympathetically, no trace of amusement on his face whatsoever. 

“I’m being serious, sweetheart.”

Mia sighed, the aching in her head returning. The headaches from the concussion had started to subside lately, and the stitches on her temple were healing nicely, it was just the bump that still ached from time to time, from where she’d fallen on the ground. The lump was still there, it was a bit more stubborn than her shoulder and everything else.

“You think we’re fighting or you know?”

He shrugged, “You told me about LA and we–we fought.”

“About LA?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“How do you remember it?”

***

“What did you say?”

Nate froze, the blood in his body going cold at what Mia had just said, and so offhandedly, too. Like it wasn’t this big thing that could change things. Mia had her back to him, licking some honey sauce off a finger before putting on the oven gloves and placing the tray in the oven.

“I told them I’d think about it but I’m gonna say no.” Mia practically rolled her eyes.

In what world would she have said yes? Really. She couldn’t even begin to picture a new life in LA, and for that the answer she’d given them on the phone then and there was a sure ‘no’. She knew without even having to talk to anyone else or think too much about it to know what she was going to do. It had really been that easy.

And, rather naively, Mia had assumed Nate would also have known that.

Only, when she spun on her heel after shutting the oven door, Nate had a strange look on his face: he’d come from a full day of training in the gym so naturally he looked a little haggard anyway – pink cheeks, tired eyes – but that didn’t explain the deep furrow between his brows or the fractional tilt of his head or the unpursed mouth. No, that all equated to confusion, Mia had seen him wear that exact face before. And in this case, his confusion pertained to that of her own loyalty. 

He breathed a short laugh, a ‘huh’, and Mia put one hand on her hip, raising a brow.

“Why?” His voice was tentative, but there was a hint of curiosity that Mia dreaded to wonder the cause of.

“Does it matter?” She heard her voice waver, pitch higher and her metaphorical hackles raise in defence. 

She’d never felt that before with Nate.

He shrugged, moving to sit on an island stool, hands clasped together in front of him, forearms pressed against the marble. His hair looked blonder in the harsh lighting, almost blinding, and when he looked up to speak Mia had to avert her eyes, “Not necessarily,” there was a ‘but’ coming, Mia could sense it, “but what were the conditions?”

Mia shrugged, “Three years to start and a bit more money.”

“How much more?”

Mia felt her eyes widen, “Not a lot. Why are you so interested in this?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you and I want to know where your head’s at.” He blurted it all out after one miniscule moment of hesitation, it couldn’t have been more than half a second, and if it weren’t for the way his hands fell flat against the marble in a display of clear honesty, Mia might have thought he had an ulterior motive.

His contract only had one season left, too. It was a pretty damn odd time for two athletes in Colorado, especially when both of their futures were kind of up in the air. It went without saying that Nate wanted to stay and Mia wanted to stay, but there was also that incredibly slim chance that neither of them did, and they were both a little too afraid to even broach the subject of what would happen if someone got to stay and the other didn’t.

And whether she realised it or not, the ‘can I think about it?’ that had fallen from her mouth when she’d first gotten the LA call – even despite knowing the answer already – had been because of that. She needed a contingency, she needed to go to Colorado with proof that she was wanted elsewhere if she wanted to fight to stay.

And if it weren’t for his hands then, Mia would have stayed at her own side of the counter. Instead, she made her way around to him, pulled her own stool out next to his and twisted her body so she was facing him, her knees knocking gently against the side of his thigh.

“I want to stay in Colorado. I love it here, I have my family, I have my friends, teammates, a dog, you. I have an entire life and the last thing I’d want is to leave it all behind for more money in LA. We’re not exactly short of it in the first place, and it’s not my priority.” She said, as firmly and as gently as she could muster. There was a lull, Nate looking at her carefully, chewing the inside of his lip.

His eyes were darting across the planes of her face as though he was searching for hints of something he’d never find. It was only when she stuck her tongue out at him that he leant on his elbow, his head pointed in her direction.

“And your priority is…”

“Me, I guess. I want to be happy.”

He nodded, “And you’re happy here?”

Mia smiled, “I’m happy here. In Colorado. In this house. In this kitchen. On this chair. With you.” 

It was almost as though the smile on his own face was there without ever really being known to him; the corners of his mouth were turned down but his face was smiling, as though the blush on his cheeks had frozen the rest of him.

“With me?”

“I’m surprised too.” 

***

“Yeah, and then you didn’t talk to me for the rest of the night and you left without saying goodbye and the next time I see you you’re on a hospital bed.” He threw his arms up in a questioning manner, a deeply confused half-smile, half-scowl as Mia recoiled, having severe difficulty in trying to understand his perspective.

“I didn’t ignore you, okay? We were watching a movie and I was tired.” 

Nate spluttered, briefly turning away before turning back to face Mia, who was now grinning like she knew something he didn’t, “What about in the morning?”

“Easy explanation.” Mia shrugged, “I told Iona about the LA offer and she called me at six in the morning to get me into the office to finalise contract terms with Colorado.”

Nate opened his mouth, about to say something before he stopped. He was about to ask why he wasn’t woken up, but at that exact moment his brain seemed to digest the latter half of what was said.

Finalise contract terms with Colorado.

And then he was talking without his brain really knowing what he was saying, “Wait, you finalised a contract with Colorado?”

Mia nodded, “Yeah. It’s pretty much the same deal as what LA offered.”

“How similar?”

Mia raised a mischievous brow, and Nate knew what was going to be said next was about to blow his mind. When she looked at him like that, something was gonna happen, and he felt his heart quicken for an entirely different reason than what he’d become used to lately – anticipation. The good kind.

“Five years and a little bit more per annum than what LA offered.”

He blinked. Heart beat six times before he found the breath in his lungs and the voice in his throat, “Five years?” His voice wavered completely against his will, it came out all breathy and mushy, and he wasn’t in control of his own bodily reactions to the load of relief that had cleared itself from his shoulders, not even when he felt his eyes begin to prick with emotion again.

Mia’s smile diminished at his reaction, it didn’t disappear, but the edges were a little softer, more understanding, perhaps. She’d been through a lot lately: hospital appointments, days in bed in pain, meetings with her people, recovery plans, and the one thing she’d been able to rely on this entire time was the big softie sitting right in front of her, getting uncharacteristically emotional at the prospect of her signing on for another five years.

And Mia knew how his mind worked. He’d probably been preparing himself for some part of his life to change, whether it be him moving out of state or Mia moving out of state – so much so that he probably hadn’t been able to let himself even think about both of them staying. There had been a countdown in his head for months.

“Yeah.” She answered, reaching out to grab his forearm. Somewhere in the midst of the clarification conversation he’d turned to sit straight, limbs locked against his torso and hands placed neatly in his lap. She pulled the nearest forearm over to her, using as much of her strength as she could possibly muster, listening to the aching of her shoulder and patting him to get the message across, and he turned his head to look at her again, a watery smile on his face as he lifted his shoulder up and tugged her into his side.

“I’m proud of you, y’know?” He pressed his forehead to the corner of hers, incredibly mindful of any soreness that he knew to still persist, and slumped against the cushions of the couch so he was more laid, legs sprawled out on the floor in front of him.

Mia rolled her eyes fondly, comfortably adjusting herself in his embrace. Even with a short sleeved t-shirt he was warm – kind of like a massive human teddy bear. Always a great hugger, something she’d actually missed the last couple of weeks, “I haven't signed the contract yet, I was a bit preoccupied after the match.”

She felt him pull away, and when she turned to look at him, his eyes had cleared, that familiar bright blue almost dazzling in the light, and he wore an expression of chagrin, “Hey, I know we talked about it earlier, but you’re really not allowed to get a head concussion again, ever. That shit’s way too scary.”

Mia just levelled him with a knowing expression and he read it easily, muttering a heartfelt, “Congratulations, honey. You’re stuck with me for another five years.”

[simplydozing]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥

Cardinal Copia x pregnant!reader You and Copia have overcome some of the hardships thrown at you by the Clergy, mainly the tour schedule keeping you both apart. Regardless, you manage to plan a visit, and you organize a little surprise that you know for sure will be the revelation of a lifetime. However, that's not the only thing that will leave him astonished. It just might astonish you, too. Part 2 Word Count: 2202 || Ao3

ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ Mia Amata = My love Mia Stellina = My Little Star Sono Sempre Con Te = I Am Always With You/I'm With You Always (Poorly translated/partial google translate)

Here you are, standing on the balcony watching down at your husband. A hand softly caresses your growing bump.

Copia was so over the moon the day you found out you were pregnant.

 You had your doubts, but it made your heart swell when he made sure you knew he saw this as more than just an heir to the Emeritus line.

 He tried to be as supportive as he could throughout your pregnancy, but the events with the Clergy made it to where he couldn’t spend these first few moments with you.

 Ironically enough, they’ve given him hell about pushing another tour.

 He fought, fought hard with no holds barred. He explained multiple times that if they could hold and wait until the child arrived, that he’d be able to perform better.

 They saw otherwise, however.

 And he was beyond furious when he found out they scheduled him behind his back.

 All that fighting he did ended up for waste beneath their feet. He let Sister Imperator have it, cursing the situation he was thrown into. But she couldn’t do anything about it. It was “out of her hands.”

 And that blinding rage converted to fear and guilt when he had to tell you the plans that were bestowed to him.

He came to you in tears, spewing apologies about the whole ordeal. His anxieties came crashing through in waves. There was one problem on top of another, on top of another.

 You understood, however. You knew how uptight the church is and how strict their rules were. More importantly, you knew that if it were up to him, he’d step down and retire the title of “Papa” altogether if it meant being with you and his little one. But you also knew the consequences if he were to quit. You both did. And that was something he absolutely could not do.

 This was his ultimatum.

 You were officially five weeks in when it was time for him to depart. And by the gracious power of Lucifer, this tour would last for the span of a few months.

 He was still very reluctant about leaving, but you kept reassuring him that you were just in the early stages and that you could handle yourself.

 He kept in touch with you, asking how everything is and how you're doing. You would give him updates and send pictures each week.

But he was left with nothing these past couple of weeks. He's asked multiple times if you were okay and if something was wrong. You felt bad, knowing he was worried sick about you and the baby, but you knew it would be worth it in the end.

Looking back on it now makes you think this was the right move, though. How else were you to surprise him?

You are currently twenty weeks along, and you learned about the gender last week.

Your plan had officially gone into effect when the next show was closer to home. Hopefully Copia wouldn’t be too upset since he advised you against visiting him at any point. 

You pulled some strings and you asked around. You had the special effects technicians slide a little something in. Everyone worked together. They were more than happy to help, which you couldn't be more thankful for. It was their idea to have you stay on the balcony instead of backstage, that way you could see his reaction to it all.

 You'll have to do something special for them soon.

Excitement bubbled in you once the concert was coming to a close.

He was finishing up his encore, ending it with the one song people all over the world came to love, Mary On A Cross .

This song felt special to you, despite being aware of the origins of it. Part of you believes he sings it for you.

 The song ends with him giving a final pose. The crowd erupts with cheers and shrieking exhilaration.

A couple of smoke canons explode, and then it happens.

You lean over the railing to get a better view of his actions.

The confetti drops.

Pieces of pink and silver scatter the stage. Copia is visibly confused, looking around and asking his ghouls what this was. They play along, some tilting their heads while the others shrug. You could hear sparse laughter from the audience when he picks some up to toss it back in the air and stomp around in frustration.

 You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of your own.

“Alrighty, Lil’ C. Ready to go?”

 You look to see a stage guard, his heavy accent startling you a bit.

You take one more shot at the stage. Seeing him give the final bow is your cue to go.

You nod. He offers his arm for you to take and helps escort you to where Copia would be.

 It’s a lengthy walk, but it’s nothing you can’t bear. You secretly appreciate the man’s assistance. He unlinks from you when you come across a door and motions for you to stand behind him.  

“Ey, bigshot! We got a visitor!” Your heart pounds as heavy as this guy’s knocking.

The weighted door is thrown open with such a force that it made it seem it wasn’t made of metal.

“What?! Who is it? Tell them I’m not doing ‘meet and greets!’ I’m in the middle of something here!”

He spits daggers, and the guard rolls his eyes.

Gosh, how you missed hearing his voice up close like this.

“Look, it’s someone who really wants to meet you,” he steps to the side, allowing you to reveal yourself. “A big fan of yours, I’d imagine.”

You take a step forward, further exposing yourself. It’s quite humorous how quick Copia changes his demeanor upon seeing you.

“Mia amata!”

He rushes into your arms and holds you tightly, savoring you.

His lips mash against the top of your head while taking in your scent. He can’t believe you’re here, right here. Right now.

The rhythm of his heartbeat syncs with yours, coming together in a yearning symphony. You both stay embraced like this before he remembers the condition you're in, and he disentangles from you.

“I thought I told you not to strain yourself coming to see me,” you give a brief sigh of amusement at his fretting. He grimaced at this, visibly restricting himself to press you further.

“Well, we couldn't wait to see you,” your hand skims along the curve which proudly shows how far you’ve progressed. His gaze softens when he looks down at your figure.

 He observes the way you light up when you feel yourself. Something in the back of his mind wants to chastise you for not telling him what was going on these past few weeks, but it all washes away when you’re glowing right in front of him.

Lucifer, what did he do to deserve you?

“Oh! And er…” You turn to the guard that was accompanying you. You extended your hand with a sheepish grin, forgetting that he was still in this spot with you both.

“Micah, it's Micah,” he takes it and gives a small peck to the back of it.

“Thank you, Micah, for all that you do,” your eyes shone with utmost gratitude.

“Anytime, Lil’ C.” He makes his way out of the scene.

Copia waits until he knows for certain he’s gone before muttering a dense threat. “He’s getting fired before the night ends.”

“Jealous, are we?” You snickered. “No, no! Just, cautious–”

He guides you by the arm inside the backstage area. “Cee, darling, you don’t have to worry. They respect you too much to try anything,” you give his arm a light-hearted pat.

“.....I hope so,” he isn’t too convinced, but he’ll get over it eventually.

 He sets you down on this beautifully crafted chaise lounge and takes his spot next to you. It’s decked out with red padded velvet and gold incisions. It looks to be hand-carved and varnished. It’s weirdly comfortable. Or maybe it’s your body thanking you for a break from being on your feet for so long.

You exhale in relief, the ache dulling in your legs.

  “A-Are you alright? Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Water?” You smile and shake your head. 

“No thank you, love.” You place a hand on his thigh.

“How long have you been up? You’re not hurt are you? When I get back to the church I’m going to-” “Copia! I’m fine, the baby’s fine, everything is okay ,” you take his hands in yours, trying to calm his nerves. Your thumbs trail over his knuckles.

“We missed you terribly is all.” You bring them up to kiss them, and then wrap his arm around your shoulders and lean into him. He says nothing, giving in to your touch he so craved. You’re cuddled into a side hug, his other arm lacing around your middle. “I saw what happened with the confetti. Quite a way to end things, hm?” You hope you were vague and convincing enough for him not to piece everything together straight off the bat.

“Well…it was all pink! I thought it was supposed to be gold, it’s always gold! I was just figuring out who the hell was behind all this but then-”

“Wait, Cee, say that again,” you interrupted his rambling.

“Someone replaced the confetti with the wrong color,” he summarized.

“No, love, not that,” you laugh out. “What color was it?” “It was pink,” he tilts his head and looks at you dumbfounded. “The confetti was pink ,” you press his hand against the swell of your bump. “The confetti was…” he repeated the words silently and stared at your hand resting on his.

You can see the cogs start to shift behind his squinted eyes.

But he bolts off the lounge when he finally connects the dots.

“Y-You mean-!”

You nodded, eyes glossing over with overwhelming joy.

“We’re having a girl. It’s a girl!”

He breathlessly exclaims, then kisses you deeply, passionately. He couldn’t thank the stars more than he could now. First, you came into his life as nothing but a humble servant. He saw so much more in you than what the Clergy painted you out to be. He pursued his interest in you and fell in love with you the more you interacted with him. Your voice, your laugh, your stare. How logical you were, how you were cunning and witty. He couldn’t get enough. He had to have you.

 And now, you’re here, with his child under your heart.

He breaks away and drops to his knees, pulls you closer, and rests the side of his head on your stomach. You lean back to give him more access.

“Hi, hello, mia stellina,” he began. A smile spreads wide across your face at the little nickname he’s already given her. “You don’t know how happy you make me,” your other hand moves to lovingly stroke his hair, pushing away any stray strands that fell in his face. “But your papa can’t wait to meet you. I’m sorry I haven’t spent time with you yet, I’ve been…restricted.” Your heart weighed down with remorse. The Clergy was overbearing and ruthless. You and your husband should be enjoying this, not relishing it in between tour dates.

“You don’t need to know the details yet, that’s a story for when you get here. I don’t want you coming out angry,” he titters.

 And yet, he tried to make light of the circumstances. At least he would have this second, this minute, this hour. He would have this one instant where he could be as vulnerable as he wanted. With you. And with his baby girl.  

“But I promise I will make up for it as soon as I’m done touring and travelling and singing to random people. One day, I’ll get the chance to sing to you.”

 You sniffle. Tears fall freely. There’s a lump in your throat you can’t swallow. “Just know that I love you so much more than you know.” He presses his lips against your belly, hoping that his little girl can sense his adoration for her.

….Which is solidified when you both felt a very faint flick. It was soft, but it was there.

His eyes snap up to lock with yours.

“Did you…?”

“Y-Yeah! I felt it too,” the words almost failed to come out.

“ Stellina, baby,” you rub small circles on the curve of your stomach. “ One more time.”

It was like she could already understand. She responded by giving a swifter, more solid kick.

 You looked at Copia with a watery smile. “That’s our girl.”

A mix of emotions hung in the air, smothering you both. You both were ecstatic. Copia thought he’d never have anything like this. He felt like he was on top of the world.

 He let a few tears of his own fall when he felt yet another swipe.

“Mia stellina, one more thing now that you can hear me,” his forehead touches your stomach.“No matter where I’m at, or where you’ll be,” he lowers his voice.

“Sono sempre con te,” and plants another kiss.

“I’m with you always.”

[storiesfromafan]

Return - Buck x Reader

A/N: I have posted a story just about every day, so I had to keep it up for today. I return with the last part, which has a happy ending haha.

I've been thinking of doing a full story or a series of one-shots with the reader being one of the crew that works on the planes, and of course paired with Buck haha. See how I go...

Previous Parts: Pt 1 Rumours, Pt 2 MIA

Tag list: @strayrockette @redwitchbitch1

Being a prisoner of war was not something Buck had wanted, but he would take it over death. Though it felt like death at times. Yet it put a lot of things into perspective. What would be common necessaries, were a luxury now. Taking food for granted. Or having a conversation with someone he would avoid or them avoiding him, now something he longed for. Such as a conversation with you.

It was funny how you came to mind a fair bit since he was brought here. And Marge was an afterthought. Buck spent his sleepless nights thinking, and with it he started to realise how he felt for you. How he longed for your smile and company. How he racked his memories of you, trying to recall your eyes, your lips and your warmth. When he did sleep he dreamt of you, those dreams sometimes a reflection on memories together.

Yet guilt crept up on him, slowly eating its way at him. For he should be longing for his fiancé, the women he made a promise to before leaving for this war. And in a way he did, but no were as near as he did of you. The internal battle he was having was taking its toll. Buck felt drained and exhausted, but that was also due to the conditions of living in the camp.

But hope perked up in him. It was the day a bunch of new captured men were brought into camp. Standing around with the few men he had allied with, the call of Bucky caught his ears but he didn’t think much of it. But when it gained more men calling Bucky did hope rise in Buck. Pushing his way to the fence, hearing his friend ask where he was, Buck smiled.

“John Egan. Your two o’clock” he called, Bucky turning around without a second thought. “what took you so long?” Buck's smile widening, relief to see his friend.

Seeing Buck, it gave Bucky not only relief his friend was a live, but a sense they could make it out of here alive. Upon reuniting on the inside together, Buck wasted no time showing Bucky around, explaining it all to him. How he got there, what it’s like, how things were done and how they did things. Bucky was brought in without a second thought, and their time there was hard, exhausting and it messed with his mind, along with every other man there.

There were ups and downs. But one thing that kept them going was the will to get out and back home, along with the mail they could get. Today’s mail came in and to Buck's surprise, he had gotten a letter from Marge. Of course Bucky made a comment, saying Marge in a drawl and small chuckle. Buck forced a small chuckle, not always enjoying his friends jest.

Staring at the letter in his hand, that guilt like led in the pit of his stomach came back. Part of him would rather this letter be from you. In your delicate cursive. Words relaying your thoughts and feelings, your wishes of safety and return. But he wasn’t so lucky. Deciding it was time to see what Marge had to say, Buck opened the envelope and pulled out the few sheets of paper. Taking a seat on the bottom of the bunk, Buck read over the words. With every word, his brow furrows.

The last few sentences are what cleared up this letter, a dear John letter. I’m not sure what to say Buck. Since you’ve left it’s been hard, I’ve been struggling. And I did my best, writing you and holding hope. But the last five months I have been seeing another man, and my affections have grown for him. Please understand and forgive me, I can’t marry you when you return. It finished with wishing him well and to accept her apologies. Enclosed, Marge had put the ring he’d given her.

“What does Marge have to say?” Questioned Bucky with a smile. “How much she misses you and can’t wait till your home?”

Buck sat there quiet for a moment, looking at the ring. And as much as he should be devastated, a part of him was sad, yet he felt relief. That guilt lifting a good amount. Marge had spared him from breaking her heart, by her thinking she’d break his.

“Actually, she said she met someone else and has feelings for them" Buck said calmly. “She apologized and returned the ring". Between his thumb and pointer was the ring, showing it off to the men around him.

The room fell silent. No man knew what to say to that. What could they say? Other then apologise themselves, and tell him there were plenty of fish in the sea? For Buck, there was only one fish he wanted. And she had pushed him away.

“I guess that means you can pursue (Y/N) without any worry or guilt now" Bucky stated, breaking the silence.

Buck's eyes shot to his friend, seeing the knowing smile upon Bucky's face. He wondered what his friend knew exactly. As Buck thought he'd been smart and kept up a good poker face.

Getting up, Bucky crossed the room before taking a seat next to Buck. “You don't think I didn't notice you both getting close back on base? And when the rumours started, she distanced herself. So I figured her affections for you” Bucky stated matter-of-fact. “Then when you came back from talking to her, you looked pretty down. Factor in Marge just dumping you, and you're not as upset as you should be, I know how you feel back (Y/N)”.

Bucky smiled at the surprised face on his friend. Buck was stumped by the words just spoken to him. Amazed that Bucky could read him like he did. Moving to encase the ring in his palm, Buck folded the letter and put it back in the envelop. Followed by the ring, and in his pocket it went.

“She said to forget our talk happened...” Buck said softly.

Clapping Buck on the arm gently, Bucky said “I doubt that. If you'd seen how upset she was after hearing your plane had gone down...” Flashbacks ran across Bucky's mind, of you but also of himself and how you both handled the news.

Now Buck was invested, looking to the man beside him with concern. “H-how was she?”

Bucky sighed. “I was the one to tell her, just as she came out from working on the injured men. She looked so tired, and I...I had to burst her bubble. I could see...how devastated she was. I had to help her take a seat before she fell over".

Buck took a deep breathe, before shakily let it out.

“Also, I had to escort her back to her room too, so she could clean up. I know she cried, and had been for some time...as she found me later” – Bucky deciding to leave out his drinking – “well, I could see that she had been. We spent most of the night talking. I told her so many stories" he chuckled.

Buck softly laughed. “Hopefully nothing embarrassing about me".

Bucky laughed, “all the embarrassing ones".

Silence fell between them both. Various men in the room had either left or were busying themselves, not wanting to intrude on the moment. Buck's mind reeling from knowing that his plane going down, how you thought him dead, had upset you so. His chest hurting at the thought of you crying for him. But he hoped somehow news got back, and you knew he, and Bucky, were alive and were in a camp.

A small smile formed on Buck’s lips. “Why doesn’t that surprise me. You always did like to broadcast my worst moments".

It eased a bit of the sad tension. From there the conversation shifted to other matters. But in the back of Buck’s mind was you. And the renewed fire to get out of this camp and back to base, to see you and tell you everything.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months. And you were still doing your part at the base. All the while wondering what happened to both Buck's. At first you were upset loosing them both, for days you were beside yourself over it. Then when you went back to working, you couldn’t help the tears that would come at random times, or when you were patching up and looking after the injured. But everyone understood, for they had been where you were.

Then you had a sliver of hope when there was rumours both Buck’s were in a POW camp. But without any solid proof, you were back to square one. Pilots came and go, either on their own accord or in a box. The amount of death was starting to get to you. Feeling a piece of you chip away with every man that didn’t make it. But you were hanging in the best you could, the need to do your part for the war drilled into you.

Periodically over eighteen months, the nurses that started the rumours warmed up to you, or guilt was eating at them. Trying to get you to join them in town for drinks, or the celebrations of the pilots. And you should have gone, to blow off some steam from all the work you had been doing. But you chose to remain separate from them all. Taking solace in the solitude. And with that reflecting on the happy memories with the two majors. A memory you were fond of was the celebrations where Bucky got up, after Buck trying to keep him in check, to sing and dance.

~~~~~

You laughed at the Major while remaining in the seat next to Buck, who was shaking his head while trying to hide a smile. Bucky was cocky, putting on a show for all. But when he turned his sights on you, you wish you could have made a run for it. Before you knew what was happening, Bucky had crossed back over to you, taking a hold of your hands and pulled you up.

“What are you doing Bucky?” You recall Buck questioning the dark haired male that had a hold of you.

“No pretty young woman should be sitting" Bucky retorted. “So, I’m going to dance with (Y/N). As you’re so true to Marge. Who would be understanding if you danced with a friend. But I’ll do it".

With that Bucky dragged you to the dance floor. In a fluster you recall telling him you were a bad dancer, but he was a good sport. And danced with you none the less. You’d never laughed so much, even when making a mistake. Bucky’s kind and funny words put you at ease. And before you knew it, he had you moving around the dance floor with a small ounce of grace.

You looked over to Buck, you cheeks hurting from the smile on your face. He was watching you both, a small smile upon his face. His eyes shining with warmth and laughter. You rolled your eyes with a chuckle. Which got Buck to softly laugh. You liked his eyes on you, enjoyed being his focus.

“Now, now" tutted Bucky. “I'm your dance partner, focus on me please”. His tone was light and playful.

You turned your focus back to Bucky, who said a quick good before sweeping you around the room some more. The Major was nice and playful, and a part of you could tell he was trying to flirt with you. But you didn't take his advances. And Bucky wasn't too hurt, in fact he knew he had a friend in you from it. The first women to turn his charms down.

Finally getting free of Bucky and his need to be himself. You returned to Buck in a laugh, as you fell into the seat next to him. You were warm from the dancing, and slightly out of breath. Buck looked at you with amusement.

“Don't say a word" you said with a sigh. “I didn't get a choice, Bucky held me captive!”

Buck laughed, his voice tickling your ears by how rough it was. “That's John" was all he said.

“Yes, as I have just learned" you laughed. “Was what Bucky said true? How you don't dance with any women because of your fiancé?”

He nodded. “Yes, she's the one and only".

You felt a little jealous of this woman. A woman who could get a man to be faithful to her, and doing so during a war. You envied her for having a good man like Buck. That was when you started to have a crush on him.

~~~~~

It was a surprise when the number of injured lessened through your doors. And in time you understood why. It looked like the War was coming to an end, which meant soon you'd be home. And all this would be a distant memory. You sighed with that knowledge. And slowly, you and the other nurses began to clean up and pack up what wasn't needed so much.

Yet there was a commotion outside – men calling out names and vehicles -  that grabbed yours and the nurses attention. They took off, while you stayed to finish what you were doing. You had an idea it had to be returning men from the POW camps. The noise outside didn't seem to die down. So once you were done, you decided to see what the fuss was about.

Stepping outside you could see the men crowding around, happy and joyous for those that had made it back. Grateful for more men to be alive then lost out there. Whipping your hands on your apron, you looked around. Part of you hoping to see either or both of the Buck's. And then you spotted one.

He looked relieved, yet exhausted, with faint bruises and cuts. His dark hair was messy from either his hat or the ride back into base. A small amount of comfort coming to you upon seeing Bucky. Yet, that pit in your stomach was back, at no sign of Buck.

As if sensing your gaze, Bucky turned in your direction. Taking a moment for him to register your form from the crowd. A bright smile crossed his devilish face, before he left the men he had been talking too and came right over to you. Without a thought, Bucky pulled you into a tight hug. Which you smiled upon feeling that he was actually there. A few tears rising in your eyes, a tear or two escaping and making their way down your cheeks.

You pulled back and looked over Bucky's face and torso. “You're really back, and in one piece".

He laughed and nodded. “Yeah I am. Should see the other guys".

You laughed, a real laugh in what felt for like forever. “I could imagine". Then you grew quiet, wanting to ask the question that was sitting on your tongue. Was Buck with you?

Bucky looked off to the side, a small humorous smile sliding across his lips. “I think someone wants to say hello...”

Confusion washed over your face at his words. But when he released you, turning you in the direction he had been looking, you got your answer. A couple of meters away was Buck. And he didn't look any different to what you remembered. Minus the exhaustion, need of three balanced meals for a while, and scars on his cheeks. Finally that pit in your stomach filled, finally having him back, you felt relieved.

Having laid eyes on you as Bucky held you at arms length, you both swapping words. The smile on your face warming Buck, glad to know you were glad to see his friend. And this was the moment Buck suddenly didn't know what he would say to you, let alone how you would react to seeing him.

When Bucky noticed him, he smiled before looking back to you. And before Buck knew what was happening, you were facing him. Recognition flashed in your eyes, and then he watched how you seemed to relax. He could tell you were relieved he was back, that they were both back.

Before he could stop himself, Buck took a step forward. Then another and another, slowly at first. Until he couldn't wait any longer, and with a blink he was standing before you. He looked down at you, while you looked up at him, only a ruler size gap between you both. Now up close, Buck noted how pale you looked and tired you seemed. But you were still strong. You just needed a good night sleep, and until the War was officially over, you would have to wait.

Buck cleared his throat. “Hi...” was the best he could start with.

You released the breath you were holding, it coming out shakily. “H-hi...”

All the words he wanted to say, none would make it to his tongue for him to say. So Buck did the only thing he could do. Grabbing your arms, Buck pulled you to him, against him. His arms coming to wrap around you as he held you closely. He had imagined this moment, longed for it. And finally it was real, you before him and him holding you dearly. Resting his cheek against your head, Buck let out a sigh in content. Finally feeling repose, feeling safe.

You were shocked. Not believing Buck was hugging you, holding you tightly like a life line. Buck had never looked at another woman, let one got this close. Yet he had instigated this. Confusion filled you. Unsure what was happening. Maybe he was glad to see a friendly face after what he must have gone through.

“I am so happy to see you" Buck whispered, wanting just you to hear him. “How I have waited for this moment...”

You pulled back, looking at his face with sadness. “Don't say that...don't say what you don't mean...”

Leaning in, Buck pressed his forehead against your own. “I wouldn't have said it, if I didn't mean it...and I meant every word of it (Y/N)”.

Your stomach fluttered at his admission, as well as hearing your name leaving his lips. Lips you wanted so badly to kiss. Even after so much time apart. “W-what about Marge?” You questioned softly.

Buck sighed. Taking a moment to sort through his thoughts before voicing them. “Well...you see, she wrote me while I was...you know. And she has met someone else...so she returned my ring". To prove a point, Buck pulled out the engagement ring. “So, I guess I'm unattached".

As his words, and the ring, sunk in you slowly nodded your head. “Oh...I-I’m so sorry Buck".

He softly groaned hearing his nickname slip from your lips. It was music to his ears, and spurred him on for what was to come. “Don't be, because I can now do this".

Swiftly he moved in, lips capturing your own in a tender, but passionate kiss. Surprised was an understatement. For Major Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven was kissing you, and in front of anyone who looked. Yet, part of you didn't care. You began to relax, eyes closing as you took in that you were kissing the one person you had wanted to see since his plane went down. The person you missed terribly, and spent nights crying for. For the person you prayed for to return to you. And he did.

Reluctantly Buck pulled back, his forehead resting against yours again. He watched as you slowly opened your eyes, a glossed over look in them. When your eyes met his baby blues, he hoped you could see everything he wanted you to know in them. Because he could see it in yours; the joy, longing and contentment.

“Buck...” you said so soft, that he could just hear it. “W-why did you do that?”

He chuckled deeply. “Ain't it obvious?”  you slightly shook your head. “I am crazy about you. Have been for longer then I could admit. I love you (Y/N)”.

Those words, all of them, set your heart soaring. As tears of joy rose in your eyes. This is what you had hoped for upon Buck’s return. You had wanted him to return your feelings, and sweep you off your feet. You got half of your wish. Maybe, if you marry, you'd finally be swept off your feet.

You sighed happily. “I love you so much Gale". And you leant in for another kiss. This one longer then the last. Which neither of you were against. Finally he had come back to you.

[talkdutchtome]

Two lines - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . slight angst, fluff )

summary . . . a one night stand with the formula one world champion ends with an expected pregnancy, can the two of you figure out how to co-parent for the sake of the new life on the way )

requested?. . . based on this request )

warning . . . mentions of sex, one night stand, pregnancy, medical emergency, eclampsia, emergency c-section )

word count . . . 8.8k words )

a/n . . .this is without a doubt the longest and most in-depth piece of work i've done for this blog, i've worked so so hard on this so i hope you all love it. any and all feedback is welcome and encouraged; let me know what you think )

Two lines. Two lines is all it took to completely turn your life upside down. This morning you were feeling positive, life was going well. You had just got a promotion at your job; you were on the back of a great second date with a really lovely guy, you had plans to go out with your girls to celebrate. Life was good. But now, sat on a toilet in a cramped grocery store bathroom, you could almost see all of that goodness and light evaporate into thin air. Now the only thing that was positive was the pregnancy test that sat in the palms of your hands. You did want kids, but not like this. You wanted kids when you were settled down, married with a house and a dog. That was the plan; the plan that you had in your head since you were 11 years old. Grow up, climb the career ladder, meet the love of your life, get married, buy a house- then and only then have kids. Nowhere in that plan did it state have a one-night stand with a Formula One driver in a club bathroom and get pregnant, yet here you are. Two lines.  

Four weeks ago, your best friend Mia dragged you to a Formula One race. Neither of you particularly cared for the sport however she had just started dating Charles Leclerc and he had asked her to come and see him race, so she decided that you needed to come with her for support. After the race she also insisted you come with them to the nightclub for the same reason. Things were going fine, Charles was nice, his friends seemed okay. However, things took a turn when she and Charles disappeared halfway through the night leaving you alone with none other than Max Verstappen. It was awkward to say the least. He didn’t seem happy or in a particularly chatty mood so you both did what any reasonable adult would do in that situation- get black out drunk. One drink turned to two drinks, which turned to three and then four. Eventually, the mixed spirits in your system lead to the pair of you getting closer and closer together until the tension was unbearable and you ended up hiding away in the private bathroom with him. No contact details were exchanged by either of you, why would there be, it was a one-time thing - you were never going to see each other again, right?  

You hadn’t really thought about that night again until now. Mia and Charles’ relationship eventually fizzled out as quickly as it had started and your brief time in the world of Formula One had ended. Your focus was on Tom, the guy you were dating now. Fuck. Tom. How in the world are you supposed to tell a guy you have been on two dates with that you were pregnant? What were you meant to say at work? Thanks so much for the promotion, see you in a year? You were well and truly fucked. Should you tell Max? You wouldn’t even know how to contact him without going through Mia and that was not an option. You never told her that you even slept with him, you can’t just drop the fact that you’re pregnant with her ex-boyfriend’s best friend's baby. To put it plainly, you had no idea what the hell you were going to do.  

Four weeks later and you were slowly making your way through telling everyone who needed to be told, apart from the most important of course; you still hadn’t figured out how to tell Max. Telling your work was first, there wasn’t any issues there and it gave you a false sense of security, thinking that maybe everything would be okay. However, telling Tom did not go as well. After learning that the girl he had been casually dating had fallen pregnant, he essentially sprinted away from the situation, and you, as fast as he could. Then it was time to tell Mia, who for some reason found it hilarious; or at least until she realized that it meant she would have to contact Charles so you could tell Max. Your parents were upset at first but quickly warmed to the idea of being grandparents. As time went on, the dread you felt lessened and lessened and was replaced with excitement. You nicknamed the baby Little Bump and spoke to it every night. Even if this wasn’t what you planned, it was going to be okay. It was you and your Little Bump against the world.  

Even though you were content with raising the baby by yourself, the people in your life didn’t seem to agree. Your parents, who didn’t know who the father was, endlessly asked you about him and if he knew and if he wanted anything to do with it. Mia, however, who did know it was Max, held the position that Max had the right to know what was going on. It’s not like you didn’t agree with her, you did. But the fear of his reaction prevented you from being able to tell him. If he reacted badly and told you to go away and never come back, what were you supposed to do in 10 years' time when your child started asking why they didn’t have a dad. You couldn’t exactly tell that poor kid that he wanted nothing to do with us but if you tune into Sky Sports on a Sunday you might catch a glimpse of him.  

So, you didn’t tell him. You go through the motions of pregnancy without him. Morning sickness, scans and checkups. You were happy with your choice; you’d both be okay without him. But that all changed the second you felt your little bump kicking. The feeling of movement in your stomach made everything so much more real. No longer was the baby just a concept, but a real human being growing inside of you. It dawned on you then, that even if you were perfectly capable of raising Little Bump by yourself, this little baby was a privilege; and it was a privilege that Max should have the opportunity to have too.

You needed to tell him, that was decided. The next part was figuring out how. Luckily for you, a quick google search told you that the next Formula One race was in a city not too far out from where you lived. So, you go to the city you know he’s going to be in, Mia insists on coming with you, both for emotional support but also to make sure both you and Little Bump stay safe.  

The first issue to tackle when arriving is convincing Mia to call Charles. She never told you what happened between the two of them but whatever it was it was clearly not a clean break. The second obstacle was convincing Charles to actually give Mia Max’s number. Apparently phoning up your ex to ask for one of their best friend’s phone numbers isn’t really socially acceptable. However, after much persuasion he eventually gave it up; so now you were in the same city as him and you had his number. All that was left was to tell him. You typed up a message telling him everything; before swiftly deleting it and writing it again, and then again, and then again. The cycle went on for hours; you just didn’t know how to tell someone that you hardly knew that they were going to be a father. Eventually, you settled on sending a message simply asking him to meet you.  

You- Hi Max, It’s Y/N. We met the other week through Mia and Charles. I’m in town, could we meet? There’s something I need to talk to you about?  

Max- Oh hi yes Y/N I remember. I’m sorry I’m really busy with the race so I don’t have time for anything  

You- It is really quite important. Please. 

Max- Okay fine. Come to the track, I’ll put your name on the guest list, and I can give you 5 minutes before qualifying starts. 

The nerves were becoming unbearable now. You had thought about turning around and running away multiple times on the drive to see Max, but you preserved; not for yourself but for Little Bump who deserved a chance of having a dad. Arriving at the track, you did as he said and told the security that you were on the guest list, and they let you through without too much issue. The urge to run away became stronger the closer you got to actually talking to him, you just had a feeling that things were not going to end well but against your better judgement you sent a quick text message to Max informing him you were waiting for him in catering.  

The second you caught sight of him coming towards him you could have sworn Little Bump started kicking, affirming to you that you were making the right decision. This baby deserved a dad, and you couldn’t be the person who stood in the way of that.  

“Hey Y/N I’m in a bit of a rush. What was you needed?” He asked the second he got close enough to you for you to hear him. This was it. Now or never. You were going to tell him.  

“Max I’m-” you begin to speak before you are promptly cut off by a sudden surge of nausea. With one hand clamped to your mouth desperately trying not to embarrass yourself and vomit everywhere, you ran to the nearest bathroom, leaving a stunned Max Verstappen in your wake, wondering what the hell happened.  

After a sufficient time in the bathroom, you gingerly returned back to the catering area, expecting Max to be long gone; but to your surprise he was sat at the table you had just left, his face painted with worry. You couldn’t even imagine what he was thinking, a random one-night stand gets your number, demands to see you and then runs away to be sick; you couldn’t look more unstable if you tried. Despite this, however, Max had waited.  

“Are you okay Y/N? What just happened?” he asked  

“Oh yeah, I’m fine that’s nothing to worry about, it’s like this every morning.” The words left your mouth before you realized that maybe you shouldn’t have said that. The worry on Max’s face only increases with your comment. You can see he’s trying to find the words to ask you what the hell is going on and you’re aware that he needs to be getting ready for qualifying like now, so you bite the bullet and just come out with it.  

“Max I’m pregnant” you say before closing your eyes, not wanting to even see his reaction. You’re expecting shouting, frantic questions or denial; instead, you are met with silence. When your eyes open you are met with Max stood there white as a sheet looking like he was desperately trying not to pass out.  

“I know this is a bit of a shock, but I haven’t... with anyone else so it’s definitely-” you go to assure him that you’re sure that the baby is his but are interrupted by a women walk up and stand in between the both of you.  

“Hey baby I was looking for you everywhere” the woman spoke before wrapping her arms around Max and pulling Max into a hug. If Max looked like he was going to pass out before, he looked like he was about to drop down dead now.  

“Hey Beth, I just came down for a coffee and bumped into Y/N, she’s Charles’ friend.” Max said, barely able to get the words out. The women, Beth, turned to look at you for the first time.  

“Hi I’m Beth; Max’s girlfriend.” Beth said as she stuck her hand out for you to shake and you felt the feeling of nausea come back- Max having a girlfriend would make this whole situation a lot more complicated. You forced a smile and shook her hand, trying desperately not to need to be sick again. 

“Oh Hi, yeah I’m Charles friend.” That’s a lie, you hadn’t spent more than a few hours with Charles in your life and he spent the majority of them with his tongue down Mia’s throat. 

“How long have you been together?”  

“2 years.” Beth’s words made your heart drop. Two years? There’s no way you could have heard that right. You look to Max for clarification that you misheard Beth, but he had his eyes closed, trying desperately to wish away this conversation. 

“Beth, you go on I’ll just grab my coffee and come and catch up with you.” Max finally spoke up after a while of silence and even though Beth didn’t seem to like that idea very much, she did as he said and walked away. Once Max was sure she was out of earshot he began speaking again.  

“Look I really can’t do this here. Text me the address of your hotel and I’ll come around tonight.” he told you before walking away. Maybe that was a positive thing, you thought to yourself, at least he wants to talk about it and not just pretend he didn’t hear you and move on.  

You had been pacing around your hotel room since you arrived back after speaking to Max at the track, deeply regretting ever coming and telling him. With Max having a girlfriend there is almost no chance that he would want to be a part of your and Little Bump’s life, especially if he did cheat on his girlfriend with you like you assumed. The thought made you sick, you had been cheated on before and it killed you and to think that you played a part in her pain drove you insane. You were infuriated at Max; so, when he knocked on your door that night you were prepared to tear him a new one. But when he walked on the room in silence, looking like a man who had lost all hope, the anger you felt seemed to slip away.  

“Are you sure?” he asked after a few moments of awkward silence between the two of you. His voice seemed so much weaker than you remembered it all those months ago, he didn’t look like a confident two-time world champion like he did when the two of you got in this mess, he looked small and frail.  

“Yeah, Max, I’m sure. But I understand why you wouldn’t be able to just take my word for it so when Little Bump is born, I’m happy to do a paternity test” 

“Little Bump?” 

“Yeah, I haven’t found out the gender yet so that’s what I’ve been calling it.” You could have sworn you saw the smallest smile creep onto his face. 

“Max, Beth said you had been together for two years, is that true?” You asked him and if there was a smile on his face before, there definitely wasn’t now. 

“It is but we broke up for a bit, during the- well you know” he spoke, and you could feel your heart rate start to calm down. This situation isn’t good by any means but at least you weren’t involved in an affair.  

“Look Max, I don’t expect anything from you. If you want me to go now I will, and you’ll never see me again. I don’t want money from you or anything like that. All I wanted was to give you a chance to be in Little Bump’s life.” You told him and braced yourself for him to confirm that he did indeed want you to leave and never come back. 

“No. I do want to- I don’t really know what this is or how to do it but if I’m going to have a kid, I’m going to be there for it.” His words made you smile, even if this situation was messy and uncomfortable; it would all be worth it if you could give Little Bump a dad it would all be worth it. 

“Okay well I’ve got a scan next week, you can come to that if you’d like?” you asked him, expecting him to say no, to tell you that he would be too busy but instead he surprised you. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there” 

Every day from that night in your hotel room to the day of the scan Max had texted you, checking up on you and Little Bump. Truly the last thing you had expected was that he would not only want to be a part of the baby’s life, but he seemed to actually care. Maybe this would all be okay, the two of you could co-parent and Little Bump would grow up with two parents who loved it. When the day of the scan came around, Max informed you that he would be picking you up early and taking you to lunch before your appointment to ‘get to know each other’. This made you more nervous that you cared to admit, the time you had spent with Max prior to this was short-lived and not filled with very much talking, hence why you were in this situation, so you really had no idea what kind of person he was or if the two of you would even get on., he could be an absolute arsehole for all you knew. But after only 30 minutes of spending time with him you realized that he was one of the sweetest people you had ever met 

“So, how’s Beth?” you asked him once you were at the restaurant, curious to know if she had been made aware of the situation yet. 

“She’s okay. I told her” Max said, his eyes fixed on his food in front of him, not daring to look up. 

“Oh, how did that go?”  

“It was pretty rough at first, she was really upset. But I think we’re going to make it work” He looked up at you this time and his eyes bore into you. The feeling of a lump in your throat made itself known but you swallowed it down; it’s not like you were jealous or anything but you were aware of how complicated this situation was going to be, and it would be made even more complicated with another person involved.  

“That’s good then” you told him, forcing a smile, not wanting Max to catch on to your worries. Even if you did have reservations on how this whole situation would play out, so far Max had been nothing but helpful and co-operative, so you knew you owed it to him to give him the benefit of the doubt.  

“So, I was thinking, we need to come up with some sort of plan as to how this is going to work” Max told you, looking very nervous.  

“I grew up only living with my dad, and that meant I didn’t get to see my mum much at all and that was really hard. I didn’t really have a relationship with her until I was an adult, and the last thing I want is for the baby to have to go through that. I don’t want to have to wait 20 years to have a relationship with Little Bump” his voice dropped to a whisper for the last sentence, and you could see the pain in his eyes, this was clearly something that had been playing on his mind. Truthfully, you had no idea how this would work; Max lived in a different country to you, and he travelled so much for work, so it certainly wasn’t going to be easy. But looking into his worried eyes, you couldn’t help but want to assure him that everything would be okay. Across the table, Max sat with a haunted look in his eyes, his vulnerability on full display. You could sense the weight of his past trauma casting shadows over his usually confident exterior. As he picked at his food, his hands shook slightly, betraying the turmoil within. Max's voice, usually steady and assured, now carried a quiver that hinted at the lingering scars of childhood. You watched as he spoke, his words faltering at times, like a wounded child trying to find his way in a world that had once been unkind. With each sentence, it became evident that Max's past still clung to him, a heavy burden he struggled to bear. All you wanted to do was to reach across the table and hold him, to let him know that he doesn’t have to pretend to be strong. 

“I can’t tell you what is going to happen Max, but I can promise you that we will make it work. Our baby will have two parents” the smile Max gave you in response to your words made your heart melt, and you couldn’t help feeling like things were going to work out.  

“Okay Mum and Dad are we ready to see the baby?” The nurse asks you after placing the cold gel on your exposed stomach, ready to get the ultrasound going. As you both sat in the dimly lit ultrasound room, Max's eyes were fixed on the monitor, and his fingers trembled slightly as he held your hand. It was the first time he had witnessed the miracle of your growing baby, and the emotions that welled up inside him were impossible to contain. He tried his best to hide it, but a tear welled up at the corner of his eye, threatening to escape. The nurse moved the wand across your belly, and the image of your tiny, squirming baby filled the screen. Max's breath caught as he saw those delicate features, the tiny heart beating steadily. You could see the awe and love in his eyes, the way his lips curved into a soft smile that he couldn't suppress. Though he tried not to show it, his voice was tinged with emotion as he whispered, "That's our baby, Y/N." It was a moment of profound connection, and Max's unspoken feelings filled the room with a warmth that was as undeniable as the love you both felt for the new life growing within you. 

Max couldn't shake the overwhelming emotions that had swelled up during the ultrasound. As you both walked out of the clinic, he stopped and took your hand, his eyes still filled with that deep, newfound love for the life growing inside you. 

"Y/N," he began, his voice gentle and earnest, "I want you to move in with me. I want to be there for you and Little Bump, every step of the way. I want to take care of you both." You hesitated, your mind racing with practical concerns. You hardly knew Max, and he wanted you to move country and live with him. Even if you wanted to you couldn’t afford it, you’d have to leave your job which would mean no maternity pay. Plus, Max had a girlfriend, you couldn’t imagine her being too thrilled about her boyfriend moving in with another woman. 

“Max, that’s sweet but it’s not possible. What about my job? What about Beth?” You asked, trying to make him see that this wasn’t rational, it wouldn’t work, but still Max's gaze remained unwavering. 

"We'll figure it all out, Y/N. Beth will be okay with it, she will understand why this needs to happen. Please don’t worry about any of it, I want you to focus on your health and the baby's well-being. And as for your job, well, none of that matters. I can take care of us financially. I want to be there for my child, for you. Please, Y/N, say you'll move in with me."  

Tears welled up in your eyes, not just from the pregnancy hormones but from the overwhelming love and support Max was offering. Maybe this was crazy, you thought to yourself, there's no way this would work; but when you looked into his eyes, you could see his sincerity, he really meant every word  

So, against your better judgement, you nodded, a heartfelt smile breaking through. "Okay, Max. I trust you. Let's do this together."  

The move happened quickly; Max was eager to make sure that he could look after you as much as he could. Your job wasn’t too happy at you for quitting so soon after receiving a promotion, your mum and dad thought you were completely insane. Until now you refused to tell them who the dad was, now all of a sudden not only is the Formula One world champion the dad but you’re also moving to Monaco to live with him. Although if you thought telling your parents was hard, telling Max’s was even worse. Meeting Jos Verstappen was an experience that you would never forget. Before you left Mia informed you that Jos was known for being very overbearing and having a very short temper; however, nothing she could have said would have prepared you for what was to come. It started with Max telling Jos multiple times to speak English rather than Dutch, so you weren’t just sat there witnessing the whole situation go down without any idea what they were saying. Then Jos became angry at Max for making such a horrible mistake, after that he became angry at you, alleging that you had planned this to trap Max and steal his money. Throughout the whole ordeal, Max was able to stay calm, gently telling his dad that he was happy and excited to be a father, however when Jos started on you Max’s patience was gone immediately. Telling his father that you weren’t like that and the two of you were happy and were going to raise this baby whether he liked it or not. You couldn’t help but notice that even when Max was clearly very angry at his father, he never once raised his voice or lost his temper, instead choosing to calmly explain the situation to him and let him know how it was going to go down. This, to you, was extremely reassuring, you were still getting to know Max and the person who he was; and every day he proved himself to be a good person, somebody who would be a great dad. 

When you arrived at Max's apartment, you were taken aback by the thoughtfulness he had poured into preparing a room just for you. The soft hues of pastel blue and warm beige on the walls exuded a calming atmosphere, and a vase of fresh flowers sat on the bedside table. A plush blanket adorned the bed, and there was a selection of your favorite books on the shelf. He had clearly spoken to Mia to get this all prepared 

"Max, this is incredible," you said, feeling deeply touched by his effort. "I never expected you to do all this." He smiled warmly and gestured toward a door at the end of the hallway.  

"And this," he said, leading you to another room, "I thought it could be the nursery, but I wanted you to have a say in how we decorate it. I didn't want to presume anything." 

Tears welled up in your eyes again, this time from the sheer care and consideration he had put into making you feel comfortable. Max was doing everything he could to ensure you and the baby felt at home. 

"Max, you're amazing," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.  

"Thank you for being so thoughtful and caring." He held you close, his embrace filled with love and reassurance.  

"Y/N, I just want you and our baby to be happy here. Anything you need, just let me know." As you settled into your new home, you couldn't help but feel incredibly grateful for the man who was putting in a genuine effort to make you as comfortable as possible. 

The first few days of living with Max had gone surprisingly smoothly, a peaceful coexistence that allowed you both to settle comfortably into your new life together. However, when Beth caught wind of the new arrangement, her arrival was swift and unexpected. You retreated to your bedroom to give them space, though overhearing the ensuing argument left you feeling uneasy. From your bedroom, you couldn't help but overhear the escalating argument between Max and Beth. Their voices carried the weight of frustration and anger as Beth expressed her displeasure about you living with Max. 

"I just don't understand why you need to do this, Max," Beth said, her voice trembling with frustration. "I get that you want to be a part of the baby's life, but why does Y/N have to be part of ours?" 

Max's response came, softer but firm, "Beth, I want to give our child the family life I never had. That means being there for Y/N and the baby."  

Beth's anger didn't abate, and she retorted, "But what about us? What about our plans and our future?" 

Max took a deep breath, his voice filled with resolve. "Right now, Y/N and the baby are my priority. I thought you'd understand." 

As the argument reached a fever pitch, Beth eventually stormed out of the apartment, the door slamming shut behind her. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as you realized that your presence was causing tension in Max's relationship, even though he had been nothing but caring and supportive toward you. 

Max, after a moment of silence, knocked on your bedroom door gently and entered. He looked tired but determined. 

"Y/N, I'm sorry you had to hear that," he said, his eyes filled with regret. "But please understand, you and the baby mean the world to me right now. I want to do right by both of you." 

You nodded, your own heart heavy with the knowledge that your presence was complicating Max's life. "I appreciate everything you're doing for us, Max." 

He gave you a reassuring smile, reaching out to hold your hand. "We'll get through this together, Y/N. You and Little Bump are my family now, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you both have everything you need." 

As you looked into his eyes, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unwavering support and love Max was offering, even if it meant navigating rocky waters in his personal life. 

Later in the evening, there was a gentle knock on your bedroom door, and when you opened it, Max stood there with a somewhat downcast expression. “Do you want to do something, watch a movie or something maybe?” He asked, his voice much weaker than usual. You could tell that the earlier argument with Beth was still weighing on his mind. Although you were tired and had been ready to turn in for the night, you couldn't resist the opportunity to lift his spirits. 

Seeing the need for a distraction, you smiled warmly at Max and said, "Of course, Max, I'd love to watch a movie with you." Your willingness to spend time with him despite your fatigue was a silent gesture of support, and it brought a grateful smile to his face. 

Together, you made your way to the living room, choosing a film that promised both entertainment and distraction and settled into the cozy living room to share another memorable moment. The screen flickered to life, and as the movie started, you both found yourselves lost in the world of the film. 

Laughter filled the room as you traded jokes and amusing commentary throughout the movie, creating an atmosphere of joy and connection. Max seemed to have a way of making you laugh, and his infectious humor was a delightful addition to the evening. 

As the movie continued, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and contentment sitting beside him. It was as if the worries and complications of life had momentarily melted away, leaving behind only the warmth of his presence. As the movie rolled on, the comfort of Max's presence began to take hold. The long day had left you weary, and you couldn't help but stifle a yawn. Max, ever attuned to your needs, glanced at you and seemed to understand. Wordlessly, he patted his lap, inviting you to lay your head there. With a grateful nod, you shifted closer, resting your head gently against his thigh. The soft fabric of his jeans felt warm and comforting against your cheek. As the movie's plot unfolded, Max's fingers, now tender and caring, began to play with your hair. The gentle strokes sent a cascade of shivers down your spine, and an unexpected sensation of butterflies fluttered in your stomach. 

It was at that moment, as Max's fingers continued their soothing dance, that you began to question the nature of your feelings for him. Were they merely the result of his kindness and care during this challenging time, or was there something more profound at play? Trepidation crept in as you wondered if your feelings for Max were more than just those of a friend. You felt a pang of guilt, he was still with Beth after all. Uncertainty swirled within you as you mustered the courage to speak up. 

"Max," you began hesitantly, "I hope I didn't cause any more trouble between you and Beth." 

Max, who had been lost in thought, looked down at you, his eyes filled with understanding. He let out a sigh and replied, "It's probably over, Y/N. To be honest, it was never great anyway, which is why we took a break – you know when we-." 

You offered an apologetic look, feeling torn between sympathy and concern for your growing feelings. "I'm sorry, Max. I didn't mean to complicate things." 

Max's gaze softened, and he reassured you, "Don't worry about it, Y/N. The relationship wasn't very good, even before the break. You're not to blame." 

As the movie played on, your head still nestled in his lap and his fingers continuing their gentle caress, you couldn't help but contemplate the complexity of your emotions. With a sense of unease and curiosity, you wondered if Max was becoming more than just a friend to you. 

As the weeks turned into months, you couldn't shake the awkwardness that had crept in since you'd started to acknowledge your newfound feelings for Max. Your friendship with him meant the world to you, and you were determined not to jeopardize it. With the baby on the way, you knew you had to prioritize the stability and happiness of your growing family. So, you began to give yourself a bit of space from Max. You kept yourself busy with prenatal classes, doctor's appointments, and preparing for the arrival of your baby. The distraction of these tasks allowed you to maintain a semblance of normalcy in your life, even as your emotions remained tumultuous beneath the surface. 

Max was away often for work and training anyway so that provided a convenient buffer and you could tell yourself that the physical distance was for the best, that it helped you maintain control over your feelings. However, as the due date rapidly approached and the Formula One season ended, he was home more often. It became increasingly challenging to avoid him, especially when he was eager to be a part of your pregnancy journey and offer his support. 

Despite the swirling emotions within you, you couldn't deny that you still cherished his presence in your life. You wrestled with the guilt of harboring feelings for a man who was going above and beyond to look after you and Little Bump, but you also knew that the priority was providing your baby with a loving and stable environment. Balancing these conflicting emotions was a delicate dance, and as you found yourself spending more time with Max in preparation for the baby's arrival, the challenge of keeping your feelings in check grew more daunting with each passing day. 

With your due date beginning to approach, the need to get the nursery ready became ever present so you decided to take on the task of building the flat packed crib that had been sitting in it’s box for the past few weeks. The crib's pieces lay strewn about, and you were carefully studying the instruction manual when Max entered the room. Seeing you hunched over the crib parts, Max immediately expressed his concern, his voice filled with care. "Y/N, you really should be resting right now. Let me handle this for you. You've been working so hard, and I don't want you to overexert yourself." 

You appreciated Max's thoughtfulness, but you were determined to see this task through on your own. "Max, I want to do this. I need to know that I can handle things as a mum." 

Max respected your determination but didn't want to see you pushing yourself too hard. After a brief back-and-forth, a compromise was reached. You both decided to tackle the crib assembly together, enabling you to feel like you were able to complete the task but also allowing Max to watch over you and ensure you and Little Bump were safe.  

As the crib slowly started to take shape, you couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment at the thought of your baby soon resting in it. Max, however, was unusually quiet. His brow furrowed with a deep concern that had been lurking in the corners of his mind. You could sense that something was troubling him, and as you worked together to piece the crib together, you decided to broach the topic gently. 

"Max, is everything alright?" you asked, your voice filled with care. 

He sighed, setting down a wooden panel for a moment, and looked at you with a mixture of vulnerability and doubt. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just worried. I see the way you talk to your stomach, I know you’re going to be such a good mum to our Little Bump. I just don’t know if I’m going to be a good dad. I know how bad having a shit dad can fuck someone up, I just want more for my kid.” 

Your heart ached for Max as you recognized the fear that had been gnawing at him. You set aside your own concerns and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him in a comforting hug. "Max, the fact that you're so concerned about being a good dad proves that you're already on the right path. You care deeply, and that's the most important thing. We'll learn and grow together as parents, just like we've navigated everything else in our lives. You'll be an amazing dad because you want the best for our baby." Max held you close, his arms encircling you in a tight embrace. Being so close to him maybe wasn’t the best idea, but you could see how much he needed it.  

Despite your ever-growing feelings for Max, you kept it to yourself, doing everything you could to ignore the way that you felt about the man you were now preparing to be parents with. Your due date was only weeks away when you started to feel like you were going crazy, so you did what every woman does when she’s dealing with unrequited love, you bore out your entire heart to your best friend whilst eating ice cream by the metric tonne.  

“I just don’t know what to do Mia” you told your best friend over the phone one afternoon when Max was out getting supplies to finish decorating the nursery. 

“I think you just need to tell him, be completely honest” her words made you sigh. 

“Oh yeah so I just go up to him ‘hey Max I know we’re about to be parents and you’ve so kindly let me live in your house but I’m not happy just co-parenting with you, I love you and want to be with you, like a real family” You ranted to Mia but her response to you was cut off by a familiar voice laced with a Dutch accent speaking up. 

“What?” Your neck snapped up violently at the sound of his voice, Max stood in the doorway of your bedroom his face painted with a look of shock. 

Max's voice, tinged with both surprise and hurt, hung in the air, a heavy silence following his unexpected entrance into the conversation. You turned slowly, the phone clutched in your trembling hand, your eyes meeting his, wide with shock. The room seemed to shrink, and the air grew thick with tension as you realized he had overheard every word. His brows furrowed deeply, and he set the supplies he had been carrying onto the nearby table.  

"You... love me?" he asked, his voice shaky as if grappling with the revelation. You nodded, your eyes now glistening with unshed tears, unable to speak. Max took a step closer, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions, but the one that seemed to dominate was fear. "And you've been keeping this from me... all this time?" 

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. "I was scared," you whispered, finally finding your voice. "I didn't want to jeopardize what we have, the baby, our plans. I thought if I kept it to myself, things would be easier." 

Max ran a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted. "Easier? Do you think keeping something like this a secret is easier?" 

His frustration was apparent, you could hear it as his voice gradually became louder and angrier and you couldn't blame him. You had betrayed his trust, and he had a right to be upset. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you fought to hold them back. "I didn't know how you'd react, Max. I didn't want to push you away, especially not now when we should be focusing on preparing for the baby." 

"I understand, but I can't believe you kept something like this from me, especially at a time like this." His voice was laced with frustration, he brought his hand up to his head, running his fingers through his hair 

You nodded; your heart heavy with the intensity of his emotions. "I know, Max. I'm sorry; I should've been honest with you." 

Max's frustration was apparent as he walked towards the door. "I need some space to think, and I don't know what this means for us right now." 

With those words, he left the house, and you were left standing there, engulfed in a sea of turmoil. Panic took hold of you as you realized the enormity of what had just transpired. You had pushed Max away, and now you feared it might be too late to salvage your relationship. 

In the wake of Max's departure, the silence in the house became oppressive. Anxiety and self-doubt swirled in your mind, and you couldn't bear to stay there any longer. The urge to seek refuge with your parents, where you could find solace and guidance, became irresistible. 

In a manic rush, you hurriedly packed a bag with essentials, your heart racing with every passing second. Tears streamed down your face as you considered the drastic step you were about to take. With trembling hands, you purchased a last-minute plane ticket back to your hometown. 

The minutes felt like an eternity, but you were finally on your way to the airport. You left a hurried note for Max, explaining your need to be with family during this turbulent time. With your heart in your throat, you headed to the airport, driven by a frantic need to escape the chaos you had unleashed. 

The plane took off, carrying you away from the life you had built with Max, and the turbulence within you mirrored the journey. The fear of losing Max and the desperation for a fresh start with your parents guided you on this unexpected and tumultuous path. 

Max returned home the next day, his heart heavy with concern and regret. The house felt emptier than ever, and the silence only intensified his panic. He rushed to find his phone, fingers trembling as he tried to dial your number. But to his dismay, there was no answer on the other end. He left a voicemail, pleading for you to call him back as soon as you could. 

In his frantic state, Max's mind raced to find a solution. He knew he needed to find you, to make things right. He decided to call Charles, hoping he might have some insight or connection to your whereabouts. 

"Charles," Max said, his voice tight with anxiety, "I need your help. I can't reach Y/N. She's left, and I don't know where she's gone. Do you have Mia's number?" 

Charles, understanding the urgency in Max's tone, reluctantly provided Mia's number. Max immediately dialed it and hoped that Mia might have some answers. Mia answered after a few rings, and Max wasted no time 

"Mia, it's Max. I can't get through to Y/N. Do you know where she is? I need to talk to her." 

Mia's voice held a hint of worry as well. "I haven't heard from her since yesterday either, Max. She seemed really upset when you left. Let me give you her family's number; maybe they know something." 

Max was grateful for Mia's help as she provided him with your family's contact information. He dialed the number, his heart pounding in his chest. After a few rings, someone on the other end finally picked up. 

"Hello?" a voice answered. 

Max didn't waste any time. "Hi, this is Max. I'm looking for Y/N. She left a note saying she was going to see her family, but I haven't heard from her since. Is she with you?" 

There was a moment of confusion on the other end, followed by a sense of concern. "Max, I'm sorry, but we haven't heard anything about Y/N planning to visit us. Are you sure she's on her way here?" 

Max's panic deepened as he realized you hadn't reached your family, and he had no idea where you were. "I... I don't know. I'm really worried about her. If you hear from her, please let her know I'm looking for her and that I want to talk." 

Max hung up the phone, his mind filled with anxiety. He was determined to find you and make things right, but at that moment, he felt utterly lost without any leads to follow. 

As Max anxiously paced around the house, his worst fears were consuming him. He kept checking his phone, desperately hoping for a call or message from you. Every moment felt like an eternity, and the silence was deafening.  

Then, suddenly, his phone rang. It was your mum. Max's heart pounded in his chest as he answered the call, his voice trembling as he spoke, "Hello?" 

Your mum's voice was filled with worry and fear. "Max, it's Y/N’s mum. We just got a call from the hospital. She passed out at the airport, the staff found her and phoned an ambulance. We don't have many details yet, but we're on our way there now." 

Max's world seemed to spin as he struggled to process the shocking news. "Is she okay? What happened? The baby?" he stammered. 

Your mum's voice cracked with emotion as she replied, "We don't know, Max. They didn't tell us much over the phone. We're on our way to the hospital to find out." 

Max hung up the call, his hands shaking. Panic and fear gripped him as he realized the severity of the situation. He couldn't waste another moment. He immediately dialed his private jet service to book a flight to the hospital as soon as possible, not caring about the cost or inconvenience. All that mattered was getting to you and Little Bump 

Within minutes, the arrangements were made, and Max was on his way to the airport, his mind filled with a whirlwind of worry and thoughts of you. Time was of the essence, and he could only hope and pray that he would find you safe and sound at the hospital. 

Max's heart was racing as he landed and rushed to the hospital your mum had mentioned. Fear and uncertainty gnawed at him as he sprinted through the sterile hospital corridors, the tension in the air growing with each step. He finally found your room, where your parents were anxiously waiting just outside. 

Breathing heavily, Max approached them, his voice shaking as he spoke, "What happened? Is she okay?" 

Your mum stepped forward; her eyes red-rimmed from worry. "Max, she had a seizure, she had eclampsia, they needed to perform an emergency c-section" 

Max's heart seemed to stop for a moment, but he needed to know more. "Is she... Is the baby okay?" 

Your dad stepped in, his expression a mix of relief and concern. "Both Y/N and the baby are okay, Max. They're in recovery now." 

Max barely let them finish their explanation before he rushed into your room. There you were, sitting in a hospital bed, clearly still groggy from the medications they had administered. 

Max's eyes filled with tears as he approached you, his voice choked with emotion. "I was so scared, Y/N. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?" 

You blinked at him, your vision still hazy. "Max? What... happened?" 

He took your hand gently, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped his eye. "You had a seizure, but you and the baby are okay. That's all that matters." 

Max's relief was palpable, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch your face, his love and concern pouring forth. In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered but the fact that you and the Little Bump. 

  Max approached the bassinet where the baby lay, his heart pounding with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. With great care, he gently lifted the small, fragile form into his arms. As he cradled the tiny bundle close to his chest, a sense of wonder washed over him. 

He peered down at the baby's face, her features so delicate and new. The room seemed to fade away as he focused entirely on this precious, little life he now held in his arms. Max's eyes glistened with tears of joy and awe, his heart overflowing with emotions he had never experienced before. 

Every detail of the baby's face captivated him – her button nose, her rosebud lips, and her wisps of soft hair. He marveled at her innocence and vulnerability, realizing that he was now responsible for this tiny, perfect soul. 

With quivering lips, Max whispered softly, "You're a girl." The realization of this new chapter in his life, the responsibility of being a father to a daughter, filled him with a profound sense of purpose and love. 

He held her close, feeling her small chest rise and fall with each gentle breath. The bond he shared with his newborn daughter was a miracle that left him in awe. In that intimate moment, Max understood the beauty and fragility of life, and he couldn't help but smile, knowing that he was ready to embrace the journey of parenthood with all the love and dedication he could muster. 

Max held his precious daughter close, her small form cradled in his arms. He gazed down at her, the overwhelming love he felt for her and for you filling his heart. With a tenderness that could only come from a father's love, he whispered, "I love you, [Your Name]. I love our baby, and I'm so excited to start this new chapter of our lives together as a family, a real family." 

He could see that you were still fairly out of it, but he couldn't help but share his feelings in this moment. As he watched the baby's peaceful slumber, he asked, "What should we name her?" 

You fought against sleep, your eyelids heavy, but you managed to murmur, "Sophie." 

Max's eyes widened with surprise and joy. "Sophie? Like my mum?" 

With a weak but loving smile, you nodded. "Yeah, our daughter, Sophie Verstappen." 

Max's heart swelled with pride and love as he looked at his newborn daughter, Sophie. In that moment, as you drifted into slumber, he felt a profound sense of gratitude for the family he was building with you, a family that now included the beautiful Sophie Verstappen. 

Max's heart swelled with pride and love as he looked at his newborn daughter, Sophie. In that moment, as you drifted into slumber, he felt a profound sense of gratitude for the family he was building with you, a family that now included the beautiful Sophie Verstappen.  

As you drifted off to sleep, with Max sat beside you cradling your new-born daughter in his arms, you couldn't help but reflect on how your life had transformed for the better. It was a change that had been set into motion by just two lines on a pregnancy test. Two lines and your life was completely and irrevocably changed, and you couldn’t be happier. 

Taglist-

@sebastiansstanswhore @ironmaiden1313 @itsjustkhaos

[green-typewriterz]

hello 🥹 could you possibly write an unrequited love oneshot with art donaldson that’s actually just the reader being oblivious and projecting art’s actions and looks onto tashi

QUICK GOSSIP

Tashi Duncan/ reader, Art Donaldson x reader

Ask: hello 🥹 could you possibly write an unrequited love oneshot with art donaldson that’s actually just the reader being oblivious and projecting art’s actions and looks onto Tashi

summary: Art had never looked the your way… at least not while you were looking

Warnings: none really, reader is jealous i guess

Author Notes: hello ml! Thank you so much for this ask it was fun to write… its not ofen i do unrequited love oneshots!! I essentially listened to l’oeuf from the challengers soundtrack on a loop while writing the stairwell scene idk if you can tell.

word count: 1504

THE CAFETERIA

Art. It was always Art. You had been friends for a long time, growing up together playing tennis and deciding to go to Stanford to further it. He was someone you’d describe as your best friend. Though, you had always hoped there’d be something more.

Then, however, Art met Tashi.

Tashi Duncan was nice enough to you - though you weren’t sure it was in her biological makeup to be more than ‘nice enough’. The one thing you didn’t like (you hated admitting this) was that Tashi made you jealous. It was impossible to not notice how Art looked at her, his eyes tracking when she played or drinking in her outfits.

So, it did feel a little uncomfortable for you when the three of you would sit together at lunch and you didn’t know what to say. You liked to listen, sure - Tashi had interesting things to say - but you wished Art would talk to you. Or even just at you.

“Y/N hit a great shot the other day,” Art said to Tashi, practically gushing over you (though you were the ever oblivious fool toward this), “I was surprised it didn’t go straight through Mia’s racket.” He continued, talking about your match with Mia Lee-Kendall. It wasn’t a match you thought much of, sure you were good, but Mia wasn’t and so your win didn’t feel all that special. At least that’s what you told yourself. Maybe the reason you didn’t want to think about it that much was because of Tashi watching from the audience…right next to Art.

You practically zoned out of the conversation, eyes tracking Art’s in a sense of solemnity as he spoke (you weren’t even sure what he was saying anymore) and eventually, when Art leaned forward into his conversation more, you had had enough and stood up with the claim you were thirsty.

It only took a few moments for you to reach the fridge yet it seemed Tashi and Art were already in a world of their own, giggling about something. Giggling. 

You could admit that it hurt, seeing how happy they looked beside each other, whispering about something you were almost certain didn’t concern you. This assumption was answered when you walked over and the laughing stopped, Tashi turning to look at you as if there was some sort of joke you weren’t in on.

Art’s face was gently warmed, cheeks pink from some sort of embarrassment - though you weren’t sure why. The conversation quickly shifted to some other matter concerning tennis, though you found you weren’t really listening.

TENNIS PRACTICE

You had been practising the same backhand swing for the past hour, still not managing to get the movement how you wanted it - you were nothing if not a perfectionist. Maybe you would’ve gotten it eventually, but Art and Tashi had decided to grace you with their usual gossipping. It was the same position of leaning into each other, eyes darting across the room as if they were preparing for something big. It pissed you off.

“Want to play?” Art asked, lifting his racket up to show that he wanted to play a match with you. You didn’t reply, only sending a quick, distant nod and he crossed the courts, ending up opposite you.

The game was harsh, fast - not something Art was used to when he’d play against you. Your usual style was calm, calculated yet equally as powerful so this sudden shift to aggression caught him off guard. He tried to match your energy, but was stopped short when you returned the ball he had served with such force that he had to move out of the way - dropping his racket as he dodged.

He raised his hands, looking at you with confusion and annoyance. “What the fuck? You could’ve hit me!” He said, brows furrowing as he walked closer to the net - a sentiment you made no attempt to copy.

“You wanted to play.” You replied, voice harsh as you went to get another tennis ball from the side of the court. He scoffed, crossing his arms.

You finally turned to look at him and found him staring directly at you, eyes full with an emotion you couldn’t understand. Mother evening picked at your skin, raising your hairs as you approached again. It wiped the sweat from your neck, cooled the heat against your cheeks. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean I want a tennis ball shaped hole in me.” He replied.

There was no reply. You simply furrowed your brow and raised your racket, showing him you wanted to go again. Art sighed but gave in, heading for the back of the court once more. He matched the energy this time, hitting with force as you did (you could admit it made it harder to play, but you weren’t thinking of tennis at that moment).

All it took was for you to miss a shot and your racket was left shattered on the floor, its golden handle the only thing intact. You grabbed your bag and headed for the door, though that meant passing by Art on your way out.

And of course that meant he wanted you to say.

Art’s hand gripped your wrist, mouth centimetres from your ear as he whispered, “What’s your problem?” His eyes were set on yours, cheeks flushed from exertion. You tried to pull away from his hand but he only pulled you closer, bodies pushed toward one another.

“You.” Was your reply, one that seemed to shock Art. “You and all your secrets.” His hand released you now, trying to move to your shoulder in what seemed to be an attempt at comfort - something you didn’t let happen. Instead you walk away.

He follows, of course, arms trying to wrap around you in some sort of reassuring hug but your struggle proved you had no want for it and he acquiesced. Tashi was his resort, as if she would have the answers to his confusion.

STANFORD DORMS - BLOCK A - THE LIFT

You wait. The lift was a temperamental thing, but you were too tired, too annoyed to walk up the stairs. Instead, you leant against the wall, face still warm from practice that day. The lift offered a pathetic beep as the doors opened and you had to fight not to scream at who was inside. Tashi and Art stood there, silent and awkward - neither making direct eye contact as if you were some wounded animal.

“I’ll take the stairs.” You said with an irritated grunt before turning on your heel and pushing the door of the stairwell open.

Art followed behind you, as you had unfortunately expected and sped forward to stop you. That’s where the two of you stood, still and silent in the bottom of an echoey stairwell.

“Why do you hate me?” His question forced a new kind of silence into the room, a tension sitting thick against your chest as you found the words to reply to a question you never thought you’d get. Though, he had decided that you had taken too long to answer and asked again, though this time with more anger behind his tone, “Why do you hate me?”

Your words were just as sharp as yours, arms rising in frustration. “I don’t! I hate that you don’t love me.” You responded and he blanched, face contorting in shock before shifting into an almost invisible smile.

“I do.”

The word seemed to echo, and as his smile grew you stepped forward (though you weren’t sure it was by choice). “What?” You asked, words quiet and unsure.

Art smiled again, looking downward - you found your eyes flitting to the soft blond curls that fell over his face. “It’s um-” He began, seemingly trying not to laugh, “It’s always been you.” His hand rose to his mouth and he pinched his lip, a habit he had that you were especially fond of.

You placed your hand over your necklace, fiddling with it awkwardly and replied, “But Tashi-”

“Was giving me advice, trying to convince me to ask you out.” He laughed awkwardly afterward and you joined him, both of you leaning forward. You were willing to admit, it wasn’t your smartest moment.

He stepped closer to you, hand twitching, reaching out for yours. Art’s eyes, a beautiful mix of brown and blue, stared into yours, that same smile still playing on his lips. “I really want to kiss you.” The words were so quiet, so soft. You closed the gap between your hands, allowing his cool skin to settle against yours and he leaned in. There was a gentleness to it at first, which was quickly deepened as you moved closer. Your hand travelled up his neck, finding a place in his hair which elicited a shiver from him, a gasp. His breath shuddered as you kissed his jawline, head turning upwards. Art’s hands pulled you into him, fingers tickling gently against your waist. He whispered once more, through soft breaths,

“It’s always been you.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

i'm begging you for some Keegan angst🙏🏼 like perhaps he and his s/o get split up during an ambush; their s/o goes MIA and when they're finally found, they're badly injured,,, something like that. maybe some fluff/comfort at the end

happy holidays!🎊

Laughing Poets

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

Synopsis: It was poetic the way the bullet ripped through your flesh – the spray of blood that exploded from you with high velocity. How will Keegan react when he realizes that he has to leave you behind?

Word Count: 10.8k

Warning: Angst, fluff, blood & gore, torture, Keegan calls you 'Kid' a lot, happy ending

A/N: This was supposed to be done about two days ago but I decided I hated it so I re-wrote the last half (might have switched a few things around). Enjoy, Anon, and thanks for the request. Also, not quite sure on the exact characterization of Keegan yet but I'm getting there. Slowly.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

It was poetic the way the bullet ripped through your flesh – the spray of blood that exploded from you with high velocity; so much so that it splattered the far wall of the decrepit house. At that moment, as you felt all the air being expelled from your lungs in a shuttering gasp, you could see poets from the long-gone Romantic Era scratching at thin paper with an ink-stained quill, laughing. Their charcoal-stained fingers would twitch as they write out your life with a furrowed brow, bathed in candlelight, and would smile as they slashed their signature at the bottom.

Would the poem of your life end so quickly?

Your head slams to the ground, white light erupting from behind your eyes as you try and suck back enough air just enough to be able to scream in agony. Molten heat is tearing you apart, peeling back nerves; breaking bone, and slashing past muscle with an inexhaustible surety. Dropping the modified AX-50 from your grip, the black and grey metal slams to the ground with a defining clatter as your ears ring with lightning. In the back of your mind, you hear the glass of its Thermal Duel Power Scope shatter into a million tiny pieces.

Shit, you had just gotten that from Kick a week ago. 

It was strange – the repercussions of your actions were happening all around you, but it felt like it was a world away as realization set in. You’d gotten shot? How? You got shot?! 

You wished your pitiful existence was worthy of a poem, truth be told; that it was worth more than the crimson that leaks from your left shoulder to the old, cracked, wooden ground. But that was never the case. 

Your body writhes and you wail out, head jerking back and forth in a primal display. 

You had chosen this life, whether by your own need for revenge or the sense of duty…you knew not. And now you would pay for it. 

Nobody knew you were hit, because you hadn’t told anyone through the comms, but there was also the fact that you were never meant to be this far out anyways. Merrick had fucking warned you this would happen if you stalked off on your own again, but as always, you had chosen the stubborn route. When you had seen this run-down shack of a house with a perfect vantage point, it made that predatory part of your brain sing with a need to hike to it – nestled right in between an outcropping of trees and overgrown vines atop a hill. With the threat of Federation soldiers in the war-torn town below, it was a God-send. You controlled it. You were master here.

Like a bird, Keegan would tell you, striding past, you just can’t resist a good perch, can you, Kid? 

The thing is, your Ghost Team shouldn't know you’re injured out here, but soon enough as you frantically try and grasp at your decimated shoulder with burning tears in your eyes and a gaping mouth, a stiff voice wavers through the static of your radio. The blood pools from you like an overturned ink well and your face pulls back in a desperate snarl.

The sound of gunfire was still raging hundreds of miles down into the remains of what was once the outskirts of San Diego but is now known as No Man’s Land. 

“Kid,” Keegan’s voice plays along your ears, but you’re too busy trying to force yourself up, blood hacked up from your mouth as you let out a strangled, no, “Where’d your scope go? Ajax needs cover fire two clicks to the west. Eyes up. No time for foolin’ around.”

Your skin is peeled back, and your flesh is infected with bits of your shirt and padded vest fabric inside the wound itself – like bugs crawling all over. You don’t want to think about the exit wound. The bullet had come from another sniper farther in the city, and, you knew, you were lucky you had survived the shot at all just on that fact alone. In your case, when you pulled the trigger, you rarely missed a killing blow. 

That was probably why Elias Walker had approached you in the first place – your kill count for Federation soldiers was off the charts, even with how young you were. Not quite a Ghost in full, but something in the middle; nearly there but not quite. You had to earn the mask first. Ajax liked to call you Greenhorn, but Merrick was more prone to Rookie. Kick was rarely out of his lab, so he didn’t call you much of anything. But Keegan…

“Blue Jay?” Keegan’s voice once more wafts out into the burning air, “Sitrep. Now.” 

“Keegan, push forward,” Merrick cuts through the channel and his heavy tone fills the house just as you begin to drag yourself across the floor. The echoes of the gun battle reverberate over the hills, “They’re boxing us in! Move, move, move!”  

You collapse against an overturned and broken coffee table with shaking limbs and tear-stained cheeks, struggling to find a good enough hold to press down on the wound as crimson leaks from between your fingers. A lung-shuttering gasp exits the flesh of your lips right before a burning makes itself known in the back of your throat. Not able to stop yourself, bile is forced all the way from your stomach, making a trail up your esophagus and finally pooling in your mouth. Gagging, you reel forward onto one hand and release the contents of Keegan’s ration bar from lunch back into the earth, watching the liquid concoction pool onto the ground that has grass whisps sneaking in from between the floorboards. Seeing that, and barking out another wail as long ropes of crimson drip down from your limp arm, you throw up once more. Everything is on fire. 

“When…when Ajax said getting shot felt like your skin was being flayed,” You groan, head starting to feel light-headed, “I thought he was just joking.” 

The sound of your agony-drowned voice brought a sense of urgency into your rapidly fading psyche. 

“Apply pressure,” Merrick’s imaginary voice in your head makes you straighten your spine – like he was a little angel on your shoulder hitting you with a newspaper. You call-back the memory of the Ghost as he was going over medical procedures a month back, “If your hand slips, you die, and I'm not carrying your limp body back to the Fort like a fucken’ sack of potatoes. No one can respond better than yourself in this type of high-risk situation, you understand? Panic is not an option in No Man's Land and if you think it is, you have no right being here...Make a tourniquet; tie it off, and wait for backup. Here, Rookie, practice on Keegan.” 

Doing the best you can with only one functioning arm, your fingers twitch as you card them clumsily over the pouches on your chest. Finding the velcro of your medical bag, you whine as you rip it open, flesh so sensitive that even the rough fabric of your own property is grating to feel. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you tell yourself, you most likely would have already passed out.

Ripping out the roll of medical gauze and praying you had enough, your shaking hand travels to your right shoulder, not even noticing the hurried conversations and screaming orders over the comms. 

Make a tourniquet, You think to yourself, grunting out into the air when you have to move your arm into position. The entire limb was stained red, liquid dripping off your nonresponsive fingers to the floor. What if you never regained the function of your arm again? Your thoughts were running. What if you could never shoot your rifle all because you felt the need to go too far on your own? To prove yourself?

The thoughts scared you more than you liked to admit. This life was everything to you – pushing back against the Federation, who had taken so much from you, and being alongside the Ghosts. It was what you had worked so hard for. 

Then fight for it, You don’t know why Keegan’s smooth voice comes to you at that moment, but as you pull the gauze so tight around your open wound you scream and see stars; nearly keeling over as well, it brings forward a steely determination, Don’t expect everything on a silver platter, Kid. But then again, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know that.

“Fucking hell,” Face contorted with unmatched distress, you suck down breaths and let the gauze soak up your life; blood in deep puddles already seeping through, “I need to move – t-tell the others…”

“Blue Jay’s not responding,” Keegan speaks over the static of the comms channel, “I’m doubling back.” 

Your functioning hand latches onto the radio, weak fingers slipping for a moment as your body sways forward. Struggling, you stumble to your feet and steady yourself on the termite-eaten wall near the window. You peak out and try to spot the enemy sniper with wheezing breath and a sweat-flooded forehead. 

Pressing down on the radio to speak, you’re appalled by how hard the simple act was. 

Am I dying? 

“Don’t Keegan – in order to break the line you’ll need everyone to be there,” You have to blink away the blurriness of your eyes, “I’m spotting twelve tangos near the storage facility. Merrick, I’d suggest taking a left and circling the flank.”

Merrick responds, “Good eyes, Rookie. Ajax, on my six!”

Your vision swirls, forcing you to suck in a sharp breath and splay your legs shoulder length apart so you don’t fall forwards. You pointedly avoid look at your wound.

“You want to explain why you weren’t responding?” Keegan’s voice is stern, hiding an edge somewhere in its tone that you choose not to acknowledge, “This isn’t a game!” On a far-off building, you spy a glint, making your attention snap to it like a cat and a mouse—sniper scope. 

There’s that Bastard, Your fingers twitch with hatred, glossy and tear-clogged eyes narrowing. If you had the ability to shoot right now…

A bullet nearly takes your head off, splintering the frame of the window before lodging into the floor.

“Shit!” You yell, reeling back; forgetting for a moment you were on the open channel.

“Greenhorn, what’s going on over there?” Ajax finally graces the line, “You doing something stupid again?” You don’t know why you hesitate…why you’re so cautious to reveal to them that–

“That’s it,” Keegan snarls, “I’m going to your position.”

You shake your head, your mind so jostled that you don’t say anything for a moment until you realize that no one can see you.

“I took a bullet to my right shoulder.” You concede, voice low with self-hatred, “Clean through, nothing to worry about, just won’t be able to cover anyone…C-can’t feel my arm.” 

The line goes dark for a moment, and as you listen to your own ragged breathing that leaves you more hunched over the longer you stand up, it suddenly explodes. A cold shiver travels down your spine; sweat drips from your nose. Your eyelashes flutter.

“What the hell do you mean you got hit!?”

“Son of a Bitch, Rookie, give us your position, now. We’re pulling back.”

“No!” You yell, growling, and shaking your head, “This is a key location to taking back San Diego – there are vantage points, cover, hell, even weapons caches left over from before the war in one of the military bases. We need to secure this town. I’m fine!” But they weren’t listening, even if everything you were saying made sense. 

They can’t ruin the operation over one person, You told yourself, heart pumping a mile-a-minute, No one I’ve worked with has ever done that before and the Ghosts sure as Hell shouldn’t be the first. These guys were Special Operations before ODIN destroyed half the US – they know better.

But you were forgetting one critical detail. The Ghosts aren’t just any other team; they care about their own perhaps even more than the missions they get sent on. 

But I’m not one of them, You grunt to yourself, letting your eyes close and knocking your head back into the wall behind you. The fact makes you want to cry, but you’re forced to acknowledge the sore spot later. 

God, your arm felt like it was being burned to a crisp. You grunt and grit your teeth as another wave goes through you.

“How long ago did you get hit!?” Keegan barks and the sound of shouting from below your perch momentarily increases.

“I..” You try and think. How long had it been? More than seven minutes couldn’t have passed. 

“Answer me!” 

“F-fuck, I don’t know! Four-five minutes ago!” Yelling makes your head throb, a deep booming that echoes like a drum in your consciousness. 

The door to the house squeaks as it opens. 

Eyes snapping to the wall that separates the living room from the foyer, your voice cuts out immediately. Keegan was fast – lethally fast – but the town below your perch was at least a few miles, this was because your AX-50 was specialized at long-distance shots. It would be no good in the heat of an ongoing ground battle. I mean, hell, it only held seven shots; even with the modifications you had added on by yourself. 

The person who had opened the door wasn’t a Ghost.

And that meant they were your enemy.

Doing the best you can to move stealthily, you unclip the combat knife from your belt and listen with bated breath as you slink over to the doorway. You hate the way your hand shakes as it holds the hilt but revel in the fact that your left arm is numb enough to not cause you to bellow out. Holding your breath, you lean against the barrier on your good shoulder and bring the blade up near your chin. 

There are hesitant footsteps that shake the fragile frame of the building, and you feel the reverberations travel up your feet and make your skin shiver. Goosebumps form along your arms. 

Creeeek, crack-clack

The floorboards squeal like a stuck pig, the old boards splintering off as an unseen assailant’s feet cautiously move through the house. The sound of heavy breathing comes closer, nearing the doorway to the room you say stone-still in. 

Your radio flares to life.

“Rookie–” It only takes a moment, but Merrick’s voice is the signature at the end of your poem; whatever you would have heard from the man was lost. 

A Federation soldier dressed in camo and grasping a shotgun rampages around the corner. 

—

Keegan knows he’s too late when he sees the run-down visage of the shack with its front door open.

I taught her never to leave the doors behind her ajar. 

The Ghost had been training you for months – taking you somewhat under his wing, albeit reluctantly. Elias was clear when he gathered everyone together, train her to be like us. And they had all done just that, Keegan more harshly than anyone, but that wasn’t to say you were untalented. 

The stoic Ghost had yet to see a more talented sniper than himself, but you came in as a close second. You were the perfect asset, able to stay back when everyone else went in. You were the cover, the master behind the curtain that clears a path with a pull of a trigger. The Ghosts owed many missed nicks and scrapes to you and your calls. So when Keegan had heard you stop answering over the comms; not responding to Ajax’s hurried quips…

Keegan’s heart hammers as he ascends the front steps overgrown with weeds and wildflowers, the Honey Badger Assault Rifle held white-knuckled in his grip. As if on autopilot, the man switches the safety off and enters, face behind the fabric of his balaclava. The contorted visage of the white paint over the front created quite the nightmare and paired with the black eyepaint Keegan could only be compared to a beast. 

The slight clinking of the rope hook tied to his waist and the metallic bit and bobs in his vest was the only sounds he made, the years upon years of perfection ingrained into the way he breathed; the press of his feet to the floor. Keegan would only allow someone to hear him if he wanted them to, even if he was the size of a boar.

His cerulean eyes flicker down the hallway, but nothing moved beside the stale wind – smelling only dirt and…

Blood, Keegan’s nose twitches, eyes narrowing. The man tries to ignore the way his heart picks up pace.  

Had he really grown so attached to you that he would forsake his teammates to come and check on your situation? Perhaps the stupidest thing he could do to himself was begin to enjoy your presence. But that didn’t change the fact that you were his responsibility, and in the back of his mind there was a nagging concern. 

He had grown to care for you, and that was unexceptable.  

Keegan enters the living room with his rifle held ahead of him, scanning the room for tangos before he lowers it. Empty. 

And then he sees the remnants of a struggle. Head going back and forth the Ghost follows a trail of gore along the floor, an explosion of crimson over the wall behind him, and feels his chest rumble in a growl over the image of a broken AX-50. His breath stills.

The metal was dented, and the scope shattered, leaving glass over the ground like marbles. Keegan felt a dangerous heat enter his blood, eyes flashing; a specific type of rage growing in his gut and twisting his intestines. 

“Where are you, Kid?” He mutters, fingers flexing over the trigger of his weapon. Where did you go? His throat tightens, lips thin. Merrick’s voice comes over the radio with a hard edge.

“Keegan, sitrep. How’s our girl doing? Evac is on its way and we’re pulling back. Getn’ pretty hot over here.” Keegan takes a moment before rushing over to your signature weapon, letting his own fall against his chest and bounce off his vest. Grasping the gun you worshiped by the blue strap, his eyes go along its long body, spying the custom modifications and intricate detailing over the stock. Tiny Blue Jays are scratched and covered in crimson; the colors faded.

You had painted it yourself when Keegan had taken a liking to referring to you by the callsign, and he had never really had the chance to look at it until now. Staring at it for a moment longer, his thumb lightly swipes away a droplet of blood, letting one of the birds once more be visible. Keegan swings the rifle over his back and feels the heaviness of it – the weight of the customizations and the top-grade material. This was your pride and joy along his back, moving with every flex of his shoulders with the barrel hitting the back of his knee. 

He carried it was a sort of reverence; a delicateness that was never connected to his name.

She’d never leave this behind without a fight. 

Keegan’s tense fingers go to his radio, eyebrows pulling in and eyes emotionless. But the stubble shake of his hand makes him want to punch someone. Whoever had done this to you would pay.

“Blue Jay’s gone.” He states, monotone, “House is empty with signs of a struggle.” 

The man turns back to the doorway, glass crunching under his feet, and walks back out into the hallway. 

“What do you mean ‘gone,’ man?” Ajax butts in, and over the comms the sound of bullets hitting metal creates a ringing sound, “She’ll bleed out!” 

“Move!” Merrick’s voice sizzles out as a grenade goes off, and the line cuts for a moment as Keegan nonchalantly comments, 

“All good?” 

“We’re taking heavy fire. Without the girl’s backup, we can’t stay here – Ajax and I are heading to the Evac point and’ll draw their attention into the woods. Find that damn kid, Sergeant.” 

“On it, Sir.” Keegan releases the device on his vest and turns his hidden head. He sweeps the rest of the shack with a heavy weight on his shoulders, taking notice of a constant trail of blood throughout the hallway. With every moment passing the weight of the situation settles in his gut.

“C’mon Kid,” He whispers, voice gruff, until he finally goes to the busted-down back door and finds the body. 

It was laying face down in a bed of wild grass, a thin breeze moving its shirt sleeves. A shotgun lays a few feet from the corpse, surrounded by old rubble and a small downed treetrunk; it was still smoking, dark metal caressed by dirt. Keegan rushes over, taking in the motionless branches of the forest and the knife still lodged in the Federation soldier’s head. 

Tapping the man with his foot, the Ghost goes to grab the blade by the hilt and rip it out. Hearing the shink of metal separating from flesh and feeling the spray of blood over his tactical glove. 

Just as he feared, the knife belonged to him. His body coils.  

Keegan had given it to you after you lost your own on the last mission, the black blade a perfect match to the one currently sitting on his waist. He had wanted it back, but you had teased and asked what if I needed it in the future with a raised eyebrow and body leaning into Ajax who sat next to you. Begrudgingly, Keegan had deadpanned and said he expected you to return it after you found a replacement. But you had just smiled at him, lips pulling back into a bright display and wrinkled eyes. Your face had glowed in the daylight, shadows disappearing and the heavy bags everyone was sporting under their eyes vanishing on yours. Keegan had felt his chest hitch, even if outwardly he remained as stoic as always, and that was it.

The man had dropped the conversation and had never asked for the blade back. In fact, something had swirled in Keegan’s gut the next time he saw his knife strapped to your waist, the band holding the hilt tight against you and bunching your shirt up. It was pathetic, Keegan admitted when he had frozen at the sight at the time, legs jerking, but seeing something of his own on your body had made his heart go wild; eyes so obviously boring into you that your cheeks had gained a sheen of embarrassment that day. Keegan had stalked away, unable to admit to himself that something was going in inside of him that he had no control over.

That was the point of no return, he realized. The overturned inkwell onto the thin parchment. 

You were the poet and him the words in your head, using him without a clue. 

“Fuck,” He growls, gripping the knife so tightly it digs into his gloves and hurts the flesh inside. His head turns to the forest, burning eyes roving for any sign of you even as a strike of pride filters through him. Injured and disoriented, you had taken down a man two times your size with only his knife and your wits. Now that really got his blood pumping.

Besides a thin trail of blood drops over the grass, leading far into the tree line, you had all but disappeared. Keegan’s heart was pounding, ready to run in after you.

She couldn’t have gotten far, especially not with a wound like she described. I’ll catch up. I have to.

“Keegan we need you at the Evac point, ASAP!” Ajax screams, voice strained, “Else we’re going to be coming home in body bags, man!” 

“I don’t have Blue Jay yet–”

“There’s no time,” Merrick yells out, and Keegan hears the whizz of bullets from over the line, “Federation soldiers are storming us – get here now! Or you’re getting left behind. That’s an order, Sergeant!” 

She won’t survive, Keegan tells himself, forcing down the mucus in his throat, not by herself. 

Ghosts don’t leave their own behind. Merrick undoubtedly planned to return when the heat was off them; send a recon force to the area to look for signs of life. Keegan clenched his fists, eyes dead as they stare off into the trees and expansive foliage. This area was notorious for its high cliffs and steep dropoffs – one wrong move and everything was over in an instant. The earthquakes were worse. Ever since ODIN was fired the tremors had been constant. 

The odds weren’t in your favor even without adding in a possibly fatal wound.

Keegan takes a step forward, inching closer to the treeline unconsciously with firm feet. 

“Keegan – do you trust her!?” 

“What?” Merrick’s loud comment had shaken Keegan, making him freeze; eyes wide. He was only one step into the wild, perhaps only one step closer to finding you. Did he trust you? What kind of question was that? The woman who always fooled around with Ajax, pushed Marrick’s buttons to a point the man had begun to respect you? Blue Jay, who always made a point to bring Keegan into conversations and try to get him to smile at her – carrying herself with elegant confidence? 

Did he trust you? How does one even describe trust? After everything that’s happened, could he place his trust in someone else other than his Ghost brothers? Keegan’s jaw clenches, head looking back and forth before slowly going to sneak a peak at the body behind him. His chest tightened. 

He already had an answer, but found that he couldn’t say it aloud. 

Apparently, the moment of silence gave his friends what they needed.

“Then get your ass back here! The sooner we have a chance to regroup we’re comin’ back and gettin’ her. Rookie knows what she’s doing…we’ve given her every lesson we could. It’s up to her for a while.”

“Trust in her, Keegan” Ajax chimes, “Just as she trusts you.”

Keegan turns his back to the forest, hearing every step of his feet over the ground as they carry him away from you. 

“Copy.”

The words are firm, but the ink of them bleeds.

—

You wake up chained to the ceiling, shoes gone, and socked feet dangling over the floor. Blood from a new gash on your head trails over your right eye and leaves the already flickering movement of your eyelashes more constant as the liquid dribbles to your tense jaw in a steady flow.

It had happened so fast – far faster than your already addled mind could have comprehended. A group of Federation soldiers had been camping out in the woods and had sent only one of their men into the shack you had deemed too far out of the way for any up-close confrontation; the rest had stayed and waited. The minute your back was too close to the tree line after you had lodged Keegan’s blade into the lone man’s skull, they had grabbed you. 

Apparently, they dragged me back into town, too, You growled to yourself, how could I be so dumb?! 

The only upside of this situation was that in order to question you they had to keep you alive long enough to get you to speak. Already the heavy padding over your numb left shoulder calls to you like a siren song; the dichotomy of the position you were in almost made you laugh. The Federation soldiers had you hooked up to the ceiling like a butchered pig but took the time to dress your wound so you wouldn’t bleed out. 

You wiggle your fingers, the lack of circulation already leaving the top half of your body tingly. Next, your feet. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you’ve been drugged, because the words from your head seem to spill from your lips unprompted and the pain of your situation is dull; muted.

“Hell,” Your voice is loud, tone slurred, and rough. Oh yeah, definitely high off something, “If you wanted to tie me up you could have just asked me!” 

Opening your eyes as full as you can, you look around weakly and lock onto rusted metal walls and a set of large warehouse doors. 

“You brought me to the warehouse? How stupid could you be?” You say aloud, twisting your neck around before the clinking of chains stops you, “Isn’t this near the old logging company? This is close to the edge of the town! If I wanted to escape I’d be gone in five seconds.”

Your drugged snickering echoes off the walls, bouncing back at you mockingly. Soon enough footsteps sound off from beyond the closed door, many, many feet marching down an unseen hallway. You smile, thinking, finally, and hear the blood from your head drip to the floor every other second. The warehouse door slides open with a shriek and your vision blinks out, black momentary shrouding you before it filters back. 

Three men enter the room, all dressed in the black and gray camo of the Federation – straps and combat vest so similar to your Ghosts that in your state you confuse the two. They even wore black balaclavas and the one in the middle is a similar build to your Sergeant, tall, and built like a damn bear.

“Keegan?” You whisper, head tilting to rest on your strained arms as your eyebrows pull in before sparks of pain fly. Was that…you have to shake your head, skull suddenly burning. No. There’s a thin moment of clarity before that haze re-settles. 

This isn’t right. That is not my Keegan. Not my Ghosts.

The middle man leads the other two at his sides, nodding his head behind him and the door begins to close; the others peel off and go to guard the entrance, leaving you and the man to have a conversation semi-alone. 

He stops a few feet from you, eyes a deep brown and boring into your body. Your lips pull back.

“There are more simple ways to question someone besides stringing them up, man.” Your sentence cracks halfway through, but you don’t notice. 

The man just stares, tilting his head to the side. After a moment of eye contact, he speaks.

“You are not a Ghost.” His voice is accented – Spanish is most likely his first language.

“Yeah, trust me,” You groan, head once more pulsing. Your feet shimmy over the ground, toes lightly brushing the concrete, “No one’s more fucked up about that than I am. I train my ass off–” 

A sold punch is landed to your gut, tossing your body back as the chains above you squeal. The air is expelled from your lungs in a series of deep coughs, lungs rattling as spittle flies from your lips, you feel your organs shake inside of you. It takes a few moments for you to catch your breath and dispel the sledgehammer blow, but already the man is talking when the bulk of your panting has barely slowed.

“You are going to tell me a way into Fort Santa Monica,” He pulls a knife from his waistband and takes a step forward, putting the blade directly on your right side. Your clothes crease where the tip presses and needle-like sparks fly from your flesh, “Or I will have to ring the answer from you like water in a rag.”

With a pounding heart, your mouth runs unprompted, “Ghosts don’t break, asshat. And I may not be one of them, but I certainly know that I won’t let my boys down.” 

What the hell did they give you? Keegan had warned you to never say too much when captured. Don’t make ‘em angry unless you want a reminder of the power they have at that moment. But it wasn’t like you could help it anymore–

The blade sinks through hot flesh, and inside the warehouse, a high-pitched scream flows outside; scattering birds and beasts alike. 

This continues for three long days. 

—

Keegan was stone-still as Elias bend over the meeting table, a map of the town and surrounding forest where you had gone missing spread out. Everyone was silent, and Keegan has to shuffle his feet to reduce the tension in his thighs and shoulders; his hands tighten over his chest. Ajax is the first to speak over the tense air as Merrick repeatedly itches at the skin of his bald scalp from where he stands behind a chair.

“We have to move,” The Ghost growls, and when no one responds Ajax hits a closed fist to the table, “soon, Elias.”

The slam echoes over the room, bouncing off the walls.

“Ajax,” The man in question shakes his head, “What we need to do is think this through. Form a proper plan and carry it out with more intel.” 

Elias pulls back to his full height but Keegan’s eyes stay locked on the map, flicking mutely over the marks and topography. 

It’s been three days, He tells himself, She’s probably dead by now. The files already have her labeled as MIA.

Under his balaclava, his jaw clenches in feral denial. Why did the thought of that fact make him want to go out and search for you himself, regardless of Elias’s sound logic? You couldn’t be dead. Missing was better than that – missing meant he could find you.

Perhaps it was the same emotion that had given him a sinking feeling when, two days ago, the entire Ghost Team had gone back out to the forest under the cover of darkness to search for you. All Keegan had found was the footsteps of multiple Federation soldiers and signs of one of them dragging something heavy behind his back. 

It was obvious what had happened, and as he had slowly turned his head down to the town lit up by spotlights, the only thing that had stopped him from tracking you down was Elias’s heavy hand on his shoulder. Keegan’s eyes were lit with a dangerous light, glinting with the promise of revenge. 

He wanted you back – he would get you back – regardless of the consequences. No one messed with you and lived, whether that meant the revenge was carried out by your own hand or by his doesn’t matter. That town would be purged. Keegan would see to it. 

The Federation had made it personal. 

“She’s getting tortured!” Ajax yells, insight voicing what everyone already knew, “Greenhorn would rush in if it was one of us out there instead of her!” 

“Then it’s a good thing we’re here, isn’t it?” Elias runs a hand down his face, army shirt and cargo pants noticeably wrinkled. No one had slept while they waited for more recent intelligence on the number of tangos in the town, “We can’t be rash. They’ll know we're comin’ for her if we mess this up.”

“Elias,” Merrick finally speaks up, placing his large hands on the chair’s back and leaning into it, “You know we all trust you to make the call…but I have to agree with Ajax on this. We’re practically leaving the Kid behind if we wait any longer.” The stocky Ghost scratches at his beard, “You know what they’ll do to her.”

The older man has a soft spot for you, Keegan realized with a roll of his head and a crack of his neck. All of them had a soft spot. Waiting here was like keeping a group of trained attack dogs from a target – most of all Keegan. Patience was supposed to be his ally, and he had taught you just the same, so how had it left him so stupendously?

Elias grunts, crossing his arms. He looks over to the only person who had thus far been silent and brooding in the corner. A dark cloud was heavy over the Ghost’s head, anyone could see it. A man at the edge of an already fraying rope of sanity. 

“Keegan?” Elias asks, gruffly, already knowing the man’s emotions and thoughts, “Do you have anything to add?”

Normally Keegan was one who would wait for a sure answer, but in this instance, the next words he said rocketed out of him before he could fully think over the gravity of what they meant. Always the cautious one, the times he wanted to rush in blind could be counted on one hand and on less than five fingers…but that was before you. Before the hours the two of you spent together training, building trust, and protecting each other in the field with knife and bullet. 

All that mattered was getting you back to him. And the words wrote themselves, curved, under the gentle influence of an ink quill. 

“I’m bringing my girl home.” 

A moment of silence tightens over his throat; the stoic man’s feet move from under him as his eyes slightly widen. If he had the ability his face would have blossomed with a blush, but even so, the embarrassment was visible to those who had known him the longest. 

Shit, he hadn’t meant for it to sound like that.

Keegan dares to look back at Elias, only to find the leader smirking, a knowing glimmer in his eyes that leaves him freezing like a mouse under the gaze of an owl. 

“Well, then, let’s go get your girl back.”

Ajax snickers and him and Merrick spare glances, amused, nearly saying about time.

—

Your body lightly swings, blood in a pool below your feet and rippling as another drop enters the flood. Your nose is broken; bleeding, just like your ribs. Cuts litter your skin, clothes are ripped and shredded and swarmed with crimson both dried and new. Your combat vest had been ripped off, the rough material thrown somewhere behind you by enraged fingers and ripped apart for any indication of a blueprint of your Fort or useful intel.

The Federation soldiers had left you alone with your thoughts not five minutes ago and to your credit, you have not broken. Not even after everything – the hits, stabs, and beatings that left you sobbing and biting back pleas. Throughout all of it, Keegan’s voice stuck with you; you had drowned in good memories in the small moments you were able to breathe without being slugged in the chest. 

The way Keegan would send you soft glances when he thought you weren't looking and how the blank-faced man kept your skills sharp as a way to make sure you were safe. His rare smiles; comforting interactions when you were up late practicing with your rifle. A weak smile filters over your bloody and bruised face, eyes blinking closed as the air is expelled from your lungs in a deep sigh. 

“You’re going to get a sore neck if you keep doing this, Little Blue,” The words startled you, eyes widening from where one looks through the scope of your AX-50. Your head jerks back, finger immediately dropping from the trigger you were just about to pull. 

“What the actual fuck, Keegan!?” Hair whips around you as your body turns, facing the man leaning against the doorway as a nightly breeze rustles through the outside firing range, “Has no one told you not to sneak up on the person with the gun?”

“I was the one that told you that, Kid.” He raises a brow, strong jawline on display for the moon. 

It was rare that the man took off his balaclava when in your presence, and you took a moment to stare from your position on the ground; your heart jerks against the concrete before you shove the feeling in it’s tissue down. 

Keegan’s presence made the heat on the back of your neck increase, hands getting clammy over the metal of your gun. You flex them in what you hope looks simply like a resetting method.

“Well, then you’re not good at taking your own advice...” You grumble, huffing and fixing your posture, looking back out over the field and the white target over six hundred feet away, “And my neck is perfectly fine, thank you.”

“It won’t be if you keep getting up and creeping out here every night. I thought I wore you out today?” The memory of getting thrown to the ground more times than you could count during a sparring match made your muscles remember to ache, “Or do I need to ramp up the difficulty? You almost pinned Ajax today.” You suppress a wince and send a quick glance over to the Ghost, who pushes off the wall and sighs, stalking over to you. 

“If you think you need to,” Licking your lips, you feel his heavy shadow over your form. You replace your cheek to the stock of your rifle, once more seeking to line up the shot as quickly as possible, “And you did ware me out.” Muttering, you feel yourself get lost in the wave of the sensation of purpose – superiority singing in your veins. 

This rifle was your quill, and with it, you signed the signature of death on the poems of others’ lives. 

This was your calling, and not a moment later, not feeling the reverent eyes on the side of your face as Keegan stills his breath, you pull the trigger. It lands just a millimeter from the center of the target. Your jaw tightens and you tell yourself, ‘not good enough’ with a narrowing of your eyes. 

The action wasn’t missed. 

“You’re at this every night, Kid,” Keegan stands by your left thigh, his eyes digging into you, “Don’t pretend like I haven’t noticed.” 

You pull back, shame coursing through your veins. You had tried to be stubble, but were you really that bad? 

But of course you were, your cheeks head, you lived in the Ghosts’ barracks. They all knew you were sneaking off at night to practice. Your lips thinned at that realization; you really had a lot to learn.

“Blue Jay,” Keegan prods, the authority of his rank now leaking into his tone; it has you straightening unconsciously, “Answer me.”

“...I just need to be better,” You mutter under your breath, going to line up another shot. 

A hand on the scope jostles the view, making you pause and tense. Your breath stills in your chest, feeling body heat beginning to leak into your shivering form. 

No words are spoken in that silent minute, but you know enough about your Sergeant to tell when he wants you to stop doing something. Keegan’s silence was a mystery that you had only just started to unravel for yourself. Your hands loosen enough for him to take the rifle from your grasp, bringing it up into his grip delicately. 

Shuffling up to your knees, you place one hand on your thigh as the other goes to rub at your eyes, feeling the fatigue leak out onto your fingers. 

“You’re not going to get better if you keep forcing your eyes open,” Keegan mutters, and his form knees down next to you. The rifle was placed on the ground a few feet away. A warm hand lays on your shoulder and you stifle a hitch in your breath managing to inhale the scent of gunpowder and fresh-cut grass; hickory wood. You have to blink away the sleep that settles on your eyelids. 

How was he so warm?

“How do you know that?” You grunt out, itching your eyebrow. You don’t register right away, but a deep chuckle settles warmly on your chest as the man at your side releases it.  Reverberations like a purr make you sigh slowly.

“You’re good, Little Blue,” Keegan’s hand goes to your chin, and your cheeks heat as he directs your gaze to his gently, thump and first finger firm. His eyes flicker over your face, taking in every line and imperfection before settling on the black and blue bags that have lived on you for weeks. In turn, you study him – the strong jaw line, usually hard eyes leaning towards soft and caring. You liked when he looked like that; more than anything, you liked when he looked at you like that, “don’t reduce your skill to anything less than what it is. Practice is good, Kid,” Keegan lowers his voice, and your eyes stay locked, “But I can’t watch you ruin yourself.” 

Your heart stutters, and your body becomes soft under his touch.

“...but I don’t want to let anyone down.” Eyebrows turning in, Keegan pauses a second at your comment, fingers on your chin tightening for a moment before it begins to travel. 

Heart pounding, his touch leaves electricity behind with every scrape of his callouses and healed scars. His eyes stay trapped on yours, watching every minute emotion and movement from you and your hands shock-still in your lap. 

“Let ‘em down?” Keegan huffs, the breath ruffling your hair, and his hand settles over your cheek. He continues as his large thumb goes to pet the skin of your undereye, leading your eyes to flicker shut as he mutters your name, “Not a damn chance. You’re a natural, Kid. Hell, you get some proper sleep for once and maybe one day you’ll be as good as me.” 

Even with your eyes closed, you couldn’t help the smile that bloomed over your face, feeling his eyes softly fall over your visage.

“Promise?” 

You missed the small twitch of Keegan’s lips, “...I promise.” 

Shaking yourself out of the memory, your body plays dead as the warehouse door once more opens. A plan had formed, taking root and digging into the small tissue of your brain. 

“Why isn’t she moving?” The voice of the Middle Man was enough to make your body tense, toes twitching. No one seemed to notice before you once more went slack, “Get her eyes open!” 

Twin pairs of feet slam to the floor, coming closer; soon hands are slamming into your ribs, shaking you back and forth. The bones in your chest move strangely, disconnected from where they were supposed to be. But you hold back your screams, a thin, lip-bitten whine stuck in your mouth. 

Your body whines to a stop when the blows halt. 

“I said get her eyes open!” Words are yelled in Spanish, and if you were in the right state you would have been able to translate them. 

Merrick made sure you were fluent in multiple languages and was one hell of a rough linguistics teacher. Every day you had kept a count of how many swear words he let loose. The undefeated record was fifty-five in one session. 

“Let her fall, then! She can’t be dead.” The last half is muttered, followed by a tapping of fingers over palms. Your ears twitch at the sound of receding steps, fast feet, and then the sound of a pulley system and rattling chains. 

Your body drops, slamming to the floor, and head bouncing off the concrete like a ball. You don’t have to play dead at that moment, because you’re sure that you passed out, a crack resounding in the bone of your skull and shaking your brain. The chains around your numb arms loosen, leaving your bloodied wrists burning as the air hits them. 

Staying still, your body lays sideways, but small trails of water dribble out from your tear ducts. 

Just a little longer, You try and tell yourself as circulation comes back to your arms. Shadows dance behind your vision, people moving by you and circling like wolves. Your limbs want to writhe back and forth, help make the needle-like stippling in your nerves go away if only for a millisecond. It was a battle of will. Move or don’t. Be a Ghost, or be helpless.

Well, when you put it like that…

A hand grabs your shoulder just as you clock the two others standing behind you, waiting silently for any signs of life. The gloved hand moves to the pulse point on your neck, heavy fingers digging into the sensitive flesh. One breath. Two.

And then you jerk up and headbutt one of the soldiers right in the nose. Pushing back the black dots that nearly swallow you whole your hands rip out of the lost chains and throw your body at the man. Grabbing his shoulders, curses and sharp barks fly out over the air, and just before the bullets from their guns rip through you, your broken figure twists to shove the man in front of you. 

Shots make your ears ring, but the spray of blood comes from the Federation soldier you used as a human shield, screams playing in your head like a symphony. Quicker than a switch, you grab the pistol strapped to the now dead man’s waist, and the minute the body ahead of you stumbles and hits the floor, you fire. 

The twin soldiers drop like flies, and the recoil of the gun leaves your weak hand flying back. Clattering to the floor, the weapon stays stationary as you pant and gasp down deep breaths. Blood stains the floor as well as the chains still on the cracked ground, and the vile substance flows from the three men that release death rattles. 

Your shattered mind thinks of a snake’s hiss before the sound divulges into a deep gurgling as you stare with blank eyes. Their forms twitch and jerk, brain dying or already dead.

But there was a spark of pride in you that stayed as your hands slap to the floor, pushing your body up with muffled wails and gritted teeth. You shimmy up to your feet and grab the gun on the way up, looking around as you stumble before righting your shaky legs. 

Looking around dumbly your limp arm pulses, and your mind runs so fast the festering wound on your head feels like cigarettes are being put out on it. 

Someone had to have heard those shots, You reason, and gasp as you walk forward. Your bones don’t feel right. They aren’t supposed to move like that – like they were just floating inside of you not attached to anything. 

Blinking rapidly, your vision blurs as the first shouts spring up from outside. 

Gotta move, Limping heavily you go as fast as you’re able to the warehouse doors, pushing on the metal as sweat falls down your nose.

Your body aches, muscles constantly tightening and then loosening within seconds of each other. It was getting increasingly harder to push back the need to scream in agony as the adrenaline in you seemed to disappear. Taking to breathing out of your mouth to help out your broken nose, you nearly fall onto your face as you shimmy out into the dirt perimeter surrounding the building. 

First, you see the town. Your eyes widen, focus suddenly less on yourself as you take in a sheen of smoke rising up. The raging shouts hadn’t been coming from Federation men rushing to the warehouse – in fact, they were rushing past it. People zip from the corner of your eyes into the treeline, abandoning the houses and buildings with screams of, fantasmas, fresh in the burning air.

Ghosts.

“They came back for me?” Rough and broken, your voice makes you flinch when you finally hear it. Your vocal cords were damaged. 

And they torched the whole fucking place! The gun is like iron in your grasp, heavy and cold. Or maybe it was your hands that were the cold ones? You couldn’t tell, but as you lean back into the metal of the warehouse exterior you smirk, blood breaking out from your chapped lips.

Vision once more peeling out, you drop the pistol and slide down, mind floating far above your form and doing jumping-jacks in the clouds. You don’t know how long you’re slumped like that, neck compressed against your chest as your lungs fight for air, but the next thing you remember is panicked shouting.

“--Found her! Warehouse! Blue Jay, open your eyes!” Your eyebrows furrow as strong hands grip you tight, manhandling your body to the ground so you’re laying on your back, “Open your damn eyes, Kid!”

There’s a sound of frantic breathing before the tearing of velcro. Pressure is put on your shoulder. 

“Ah!” You scream, bearing your teeth and raging at the sensation of firm hands and an unrelenting weight.

“That’s right,” The smooth voice says, “Keep responding, keep making noise for me.”

“Kee?” You ask, only able to half-open your eyes and call out his nickname that you had never actually used aloud before. If possible, the weight is ramped up ten-fold, and you have to wonder if the Ghost is putting a knee up on you to try and stop the bleeding. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Keegan grunts, and his body comes into view as your eyes clear, though one is more muddled than the other; like a body of water filled with mud. Afternoon light shines off the man’s combat vest and back attire, his signature balaclava looking like it had been messed with and run over with rough hands. His black face paint is patchy and in places streaked. Keegan looked tired, you numbly realized as a chill made you shiver, “Look at me.” 

You were. 

His eyes snap to meet yours, and you’re taken aback by the creases around them; the wrinkles straining his forehead and nose bridge. The color is darker as well, no longer a calm and blank blue but a fiery shade, burning and boiling water. They flash when they already see you looking at him, and his high-hackled shoulders minutely lower as they soften to give you that look that you love. You pray only you’re privy to that look because it makes your shaking hands heat up.

“You have reall–really pretty eyes,” You whisper, voice cutting out, “You know that?”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” He says, eyes flickering away and scanning your body. Behind the fabric you see his lips pull back in a soundless snarl, “But If you think they’re so pretty you’ll have to trouble keepin’ yours locked on ‘em, right?”

You can’t laugh, so the small exhalation from your mouth will have to do. Your eyelids flicker.

“Hey,” Keegan’s hand goes to your cheek, jostling your head so hard you groan, “The hell did I just tell you, Blue?”

“...Hurts,” You whimper, tears gathering as your lips twitch. 

You can only do so much to push back the inevitable, and every breath feels like someone’s shoving your chest into a table saw. 

Keegan moves one hand from your shoulder and sets it on your cheek, tilting your head to the side, “I know it hurts, Blue, but you gotta keep lookn’ at me, okay? You’re doing good.” 

It was the softest you had ever heard him speak. His finger brushes your undereye and makes your eyelashes flutter open.

“There she is,” He grunts, and with a start, you see he’s pushed up his face covering, the fabric a bundle on top of his head. Your face heats at his handsome visage, roaming his lips and cheekbones, “there’s my girl.”

“I didn’t know if you were going to,” Fluid pools in the back of your mouth, and you cough before you can continue, sprinkles of phlegm and blood spraying Keegan’s attire. He doesn’t seem to care, “come back for me,” Uttering the words weakly, you feel yourself speak as if separate from your own body, a willing participant watching just beyond the way of sight. 

Keegan’s eyes narrow, face pulling closer unconsciously as if he were trying to shield you with his body from the gunfire far off behind him. Across the field, familiar voices had started to ring out.

“Why the hell would you think that? What kind of dumbass made you–” He stops when your eyes sneak away in shame, numb lips pulling down as tears make your sclera red. A pause ensues before a deep sigh falls from his lips; Keegan taps his thumb on your cheek until you look back at him. His face is tense, but a blatant surety is in his tone, “I would never leave you behind. If you had trouble figuring all that out until now, then you don’t anymore. Got it?” 

“Copy, Sarge,” Your eyebrows soften, body going slack and loose. Keegan’s hand is so warm, “You know...I really would have liked to go out on a date with you.” 

Eyes going out of focus, your head lulls before Keegan can rip you back to the present with his deep words just as the ground reverberates under you. They say the sense of hearing is the last to go, and that rings true, because the last thing you remember is Keegan’s voice yelling your name so gutturally that you almost miss Merrick’s voice. 

“Blue! Shit, Elias, we need Med Evac down here, now! She’s down!”

—

The Med Ward was just how you remembered it, but the man sitting in the chair near the window was new. You were no stranger to the alcoholic scent of the rooms, the blinding overhead lights, and the coarse bed sheets. Around your body, the tight bindings restricted you from sitting up and walking, so for upwards of ten minutes you had stared at Keegan’s figure. 

He was sleeping, in nothing more than a black T-shirt and cargo pants. His head was tilted to the side and his arms crossed over his chest; legs out and crossed at the ankles as his combat boots rest on the tile. You should wake him up. You should, but you haven’t and probably won't. Keegan’s dark hair is glowing in an early morning light, making it glow amber and cover him like a halo. 

The pillow under your head is hard, uncomfortable, and stinks of bleach, but instead of worrying about it, your mind was running over what you had said before you passed out.

“You know...I really would have liked to go out on a date with you.”

Fuck me, Cheeks heating, your eyes flicker down his body, catching his veiny arms and watching his chest steadily rise and fall. Had you really said that? 

Your head begins to hurt, and not only from the tight bindings and the gauze pad around it. 

“You’re staring, Little Blue.” Gasping, your eyes widen in their sockets at the sleep-dipped tone. 

Keegan’s eyes slide open fluidly as if he were never asleep in the first place. His head moves to right itself and stare directly at you, blinking slowly. Locking gazes, you freeze as your jaw goes slack – it was a good thing you were on pain meds because otherwise, your ribs would be aching at the way your breath halted. Stuttering, you let the room lapse into silence as he watches you. Keegan’s lips flicker into a smirk. 

Standing he stalks over to you and drags the chair behind him. Getting about a foot or two away, he stops and flips the chair forward carefully before sitting down once more. Keegan leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees as you watch. 

“...You feeln’ alright? Need me to get the nurse?” He has black and blue under his eyes, colored iris’ strained. Keegan was a man of few words – his actions always spoke louder; like how he let you keep his knife, or told you to go to bed when you were up late shooting. 

At that moment the cold Ghost’s hand went to your arm, lightly brushing over the bandages and pauses to see if you register any pain. When he doesn’t see any discomfort, he settles his grip and runs his fingers over your skin. 

You blink. 

“I’m good.” The words come out breathlessly, and where his touch continues to rove, sparks light under the skin.

Keegan’s soft sigh enters the cold air, and his gaze flickers to the floor for a moment. His jaw clenches, like there was something in his head that refused to come out of his lips. The man’s scream still haunted you – how he yelled your name so raw and vulnerable. You had never heard something like that from him, not even when he had to have you stitch him up one time during a mission.

I’m never letting you anywhere a needle again, He had said with his face flushed of color. You really were bad at sutures. 

Smiling to yourself, you lift your hand with every bit of cotton sticking to your brain and shimmy it out of his delicate grip. Not wanting to hurt you he pulls back and looks with wide eyes at what you were doing. 

“Kid, I don’t–” His comment is halted when your fingers graze his cheek, just the tiniest hint of stubble making your fingers itch perfectly. Freezing like a bird, Keegan’s sights are set on you, confusion bleeding into this expression as his lips pull into a line. 

This was stepping a line you hadn’t crossed before, but you didn’t really care all that much. 

Caressing his jaw, your hand cradles his face. To your surprise, Keegan leaned into you, tension leaving and body going slack like putty in your grip; a second later, his hand comes and encompasses your own, molten heat radiating into your bloodstream. Your heart skips a beat when his eyelashes flutter closed. 

“Tired?” You ask, slightly amused.

“No,” Keegan grumbles, face blank, and you flinch as a laugh barks from your lips. Not a good idea. Weaving his fingers so he can grip your hand more tightly, he peels you from his face and opens his eyes. 

Watching you and clocking your emotions, he lays your hand to his lips and lays a gentle kiss, lips moving over your skin as he places another right after. You’re surprised you don’t catch on fire – especially with that look on his face.

How could a man so cold be as gentle as he was with you?

“You worried the boys,” He says when he pulls back but still holds your hand close, “Ajax nearly strangled Elias to get him to hurry up and go after you.” 

Smirking, you hum, “And you? Were you worried, Kee?” Teasing with the nickname, you watch as a small smile forms over his face, eyes lingering so beautifully on your visage.

“No,” You raise a brow at the bare answer, but he wasn’t done, “I was damn near terrified.” Licking your lips, you watch him track the motion, and he rises and leans closer to you, “What gave you the right to make me feel like that, Kid,” His breath fans over your cheeks, and your eyes flutter when his nose caresses your own. You can feel his eyes bore into you, unrelenting as they look over every pore and mark. 

Keegan’s lips whisper over yours. 

Yes, Your mind sings at the contact, and a small whimper falls into the air. 

“...Who gave you the right to make me want to be yours?” All but growling the words out, his lips descend onto yours, firm but still gentle. He would never hurt you, even if he wanted to feel you against him. You were injured, and that reality never failed to leave his head.

So for now, he would kiss you as if you were the most delicate of glass; worship your skin and bestow on it everything he couldn’t say. 

As you both move together, his hands come up and grab at your jaw as your own travel to rest on his chest that looms over your own, mapping out the dip of his muscles and the way he shivers when your nails rake into the fabric of his shirt. 

This was what you had wanted, to feel him move over you and flex as your fingers go to grip at his hair. 

Pulling back, the man pants in breath with you, lips were swollen. It was quite the sight, and you swore you felt your pupils dilate just by staring at him. Keegan hums deep in his chest and then places his forehead gently to your own – careful of the bandages and, most likely, stitches that live under there.

“I lost your knife,” You whisper out, and almost cringe at the needy tone of your voice. Were you really this infatuated with the man? …You already knew the answer to that question.

“Don’t worry about it,” Keegan grunts, and keeps the knowledge of the fact that the blade was already paced back in your room by his own hands to himself, “I’ll make sure you pay for it when you’re well enough to be discharged. Can’t have my Blue Jay leaving weapons behind, now can we?”

It’s safe to say you prayed for a speedy recovery, just like how poets of days long past wished for a gentle rain or mist-filled morning – if only to have something to quietly worship. 

[janeyseymour]

Mamma Mia

a song fic based on the song Mamma Mia by ABBA with my own version of the song attached :)

WC: ~1.45k

I’ve been cheated by you since I don’t know when. So I made up my mind, it must come to end.

Melissa Schemmenti has been in your life for quite some time. And now looking back on everything, she’s been cheating you out of a lot of things. So, you’ve made up your mind: you have to cut her off.

“Mel, I just can’t do this anymore!” you tell her, tears in your eyes.

“What do you mean you can’t do it anymore! You’ve cheated me out of so much, and it’s been going on since… since I don’t know when. So, I made up my mind… we have to split.”

“You always say that,” she rolls her eyes.

“But… I mean it this time,” you whisper. “Please leave.”

Look at me now, will I ever learn? I don’t know how, but I suddenly lose control. There’s a fire within my soul.

It’s been a few weeks now, and you’re just… brokenhearted. You miss everything about her. Yes, she’s hurt you in the past, but nothing matters when she makes you happy. 

After a few drinks, the liquid courage takes over, and you lose control. You have to text her. There’s just a fire within your soul that is begging you to go back to the fiery redhead that haunts your dreams. She answers, telling you to be over at her place as soon as you can. She sends you a picture of herself, a glass of wine in hand as she waits for you.

Just one look and I can hear a bell ring. One more look and I forget everything.

You glance at the picture, and the alarms are going off in your head about how this is a bad idea- how you shouldn’t go back to her. Not after everything she’s put you through and after everything that you’ve been denied of because of her.

But then you look at the picture again, and… all of those thoughts go out the window. You slip on your shoes and start your walk. You’re not sober enough to drive. 

Mamma mia, here I go again. My, my, how can I resist you? Mamma mia, does it show again? My, my, just how much I’ve missed you. 

As you walk, you start to sober up, and think to yourself. Here you go again, to fall into the arms of the woman who has left you hurting so many times before. You almost turn around, but then she sends you another picture, asking where you are. You don’t know how to resist that.

When you knock on her door, she opens it almost immediately. Her lips are on yours almost instantly, and you can taste the cherry wine that she’s been drinking. You soak it in as much as you can before pulling apart.

Your eyes give you away, and you know it’s showing just how much you’ve missed her. 

You spend that night with Melissa in her bed.

Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted, blue since the day we parted. Why, why, did I ever let you go? Mamma mia, now I really know- my, my, I could never let you go. 

The next morning, you wake up naked in the redhead’s bed and in her arms, content. You’re no longer heartbroken and upset. You wake up feeling much better than you were the previous night when all you had done was wish she was sitting next to you. And you know you could never let go over her. Not again. You know that you’re right where you’re supposed to be. But the two of you both know that you definitely need to talk about this whole on and off game that you’ve been playing lately. It’s just not healthy.

So, you settle on her couch once she’s made breakfast and poured coffee.

I’ve been angry and sad about things that you do.

“I just… you know how I feel when you flirt with other people to get free things,” you whisper. “And I’ve told you that.”

“Y/N, I’m a teacher. I have to do what I have to do to get by, and if flirting with the idiot vending machine man is what I have to do, I’ll do it.”

“And you know how I feel when you brush off the idea of settling down and getting married.”

“And I’ve told you before that we can settle down, but I ain’t getting married again, hun,” Melissa tells you as she takes a bite of her bacon. “It’s just not in the cards for me.”

“It doesn’t matter to you that that’s not what I want?”

“I already compromised by telling you that we could move in together and all that shit-”

“See, right there. All that shit,” you bite out. “It’s not shit to me. I love you, and I don’t know why you act like our love is some bullshit. It hurts.”

“I’m sorry, hun. I’ll try to be more considerate of your feelings,” she promises as she lays a gentle hand over yours.

It’s a promise that you’ve heard before, and while you doubt she’ll keep word… one can dream.

I can’t count all the times that I’ve told you we’re through. And when you go, when you slam the door. I think you know that you won’t be away too long. You know that I’m not that strong.

You haven’t even been dating again for another week before you’re kicking her out of your place. You shout at her that this is the last time she’ll hear from you. But as she slams the door, you hear her grumble something.

“You and I both know that you’re not strong enough to stay away from me for too long.”

Just one look and I can hear a bell ring. One more look and I forget everything.

You’re out at the bars with your friend when you see her walk in, red hair curled beautifully and her outfit perfectly accentuating the curves that she was gifted.

“Stop,” your best friend scolds you when she follows your gaze. “She’s the whole reason we’re out tonight in the first place- to forget about her.”

You shake your head to get out of the trance Melissa has you in. But as much as you try, she always pulls you back in. You take one more look at her, and you forget it all- you know she’ll end up at your place once your friend has decided that she’s had enough and heads home for the night. That, or you’ll end up pinned to her bed like you usually do on nights where you reconcile.

Mamma mia, here I go again. My, my, how can I resist you? Mamma Mia, does it show again? My, my, just how much I’ve missed you?

The night continues on, you and your friend dancing and singing your hearts out, until she’s decided that she’s had enough for the night. She calls an Uber, and she climbs into it as she gives you her parting words.

“I swear to God, Y/N, do not end up back in bed with Melissa tonight,” she slurs out as she closes the door.

You roll your eyes and head back into the bar. The redhead is waiting at the door for you- of course she is.

Drunk enough to not care, but sober enough to know what you’re doing, you kiss her.

“Can’t resist me?” Melissa teases.

You roll your eyes and kiss her again as you start to dance on her. “What do you think?”

“I think you missed me,” she smirks. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“I think you should buy me a drink,” you smile at her cheekily.

“As long as you come home with me tonight.”

You do. 

Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted, blue since the day we parted. Why, why, did I ever let you go? Mamma mia, now I really know. My, my, I could never let you go.

You wake up in her arms again, and you know that while you were supposed to be at the bar mending your broken heart last night, you made the decision to come back to her. As she’s asleep next to you, holding onto you tightly, you wonder again why you ever let her go.

And you know that for as many times as this vicious cycle of being in an on again, off again relationship will continue, you could never let her go.

You just hope that one day, the two of you get your shit together and you stay together. It probably won’t happen, but you can hope and dream. 

[deadlynavigation]

Pretty & Pink

Warnings: swearing

Author’s Note: request from @cecebabs !! school has been kicking my ass lately so just bear with me yall 🥲

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Opposites attract—or at least, that’s what they said. Wednesday had never put any stock into the saying until he met you.

You were a bright little thing, full of happiness and hope and all the other disgusting emotions. But Wednesday endured, because at the end of the day, you held his heart in your manicured hand.

Every once in a while, though, he’ll question what he’s doing. Like tonight, for instance. It had been a long day. The errands that had been piling up over the week were finally accomplished a few hours ago, and it was exhausting. So exhausting that all he wanted to do was collapse in the nearest bed, no matter the owner or location. And since you didn’t want your partner to end up in some alleyway mattress, you dragged him over to your apartment, where he was currently camped out on your bed.

“You doing okay in there, sweetie?” You call to him from your bathroom, hands dripping with water as you rinse your cleanser off.

“Yes, my love. Are you done yet?” Wednesday calls back. He knows his question is in vain, though. Your skincare routine is a long ordeal, and you’ve only just started.

He hears your soft laughter float through the air. “I’ll be right out.” You respond, picking up a serum.

Wednesday decides he can’t wait, heading into the bathroom and settling behind where you stand. You greet him with a smile, picking up the next step of your routine to show to him.

“It’s a new moisturizer I got today,” You explain. “It’s supposed to be good for dry skin, and with all the nasty weather lately…”

Wednesday doesn’t hear the rest of your rant, focusing instead on those pretty eyes of yours. Oh, how he longs to drown in them. To sink into their depths, seeing the world from your hopeful view. Unpacking all your thoughts, understanding and empathizing.

Listen to him. He’s practically a puddle of mush. What have you done to him?

“...Wednesday, baby?” You tilt your head as Wednesday snaps back into reality. “Were you even listening?”

He takes one more second to stare at you before sheepishly shaking his head. “Deepest apologies, cara mia. There are simply too many pretty parts to you, I cannot focus on every one of them at once.”

You giggle, a blush tinting your cheeks. “Maybe I should turn away, then. Stop distracting you with my wiles.”

Wednesday smirks. “Turning away from me would entice me even more, Y/n. You really want to play that game?”

“Oh my god. Ok, I’m not facing you anymore. You’ve lost that privilege.” Your cheeks are on fire now, and if you maintain eye contact any longer, you’re worried you might burst into flames. True to your word, you pivot to face the mirror. Then, using your arms, you hop up onto the counter, climbing into the sink for an optimal view.

Wednesday nearly has a heart attack as you jump. His hands fall into place, ready to catch you or save your head from a nasty bang should your acrobatics go wrong, but once you’re in place, he sighs loudly.

“Must you do that, my love?” His seriousness is ruined by a smile creeping onto his face.

“Sorry, can’t hear you. This moisturizer requires my full attention.” It’s hard tamping down your own smile, but the teasing seems to be worth it as Wednesday’s stare darkens.

“The moisturizer gets your attention, hm? That’s a dangerous game, cara mia.”

You don’t respond, instead dipping your finger into the container and dotting it on your cheeks.

“Come down from that sink so we can see who really has your attention right now.” Wednesday taunts you. After a couple seconds, you give in, closing up the product and carefully setting it down before jumping back down onto the floor. Within seconds, Wednesday takes a step and sits on the edge of the bathtub, grabbing your hands and gently tugging you along at the same time. Before you know it, you’re sat on his lap, a smirk on his face and a shocked look on yours.

“Attention still on skincare, love?” Wednesday teases.

You give up on the facade. “No,” You breathe, leaning in. “But what if I share my attention with it?”

Wednesday’s eyebrows furrow as you get up, reaching into the bottom drawer of the counter and coming back to him with a small package. You sit back down, ripping it open and tossing the top in the trash.

“Want a face mask?” You ask.

“Is that one of those grotesque concoctions that spreads all over your face? The one that looks like a death mask?” Wednesday questions, but you’re already reaching into the package.

“Exactly, baby. Want one?”

“...Sure.” What’s the worst that could happen?

Twenty minutes later, and Wednesday is set up on your bed with no intention of moving. A green substance covers the majority of his face, making him question why he doesn’t let you do this more often. He feels more relaxed than he has in weeks, settled in amongst your many pink throw pillows and cherry blossom sheets. You’re settled in too, resting your head on his chest while trying to sync your breaths with the steady thumps of his heart. Your manicured fingers etch random shapes into his skin, tracing the hard lines of muscle and adding a heart or two every so often.

Eventually, though, the both of you become restless.

‘Wanna start a movie?” Wednesday asks, looking down at your comfy self with adoration.

You look up, meeting his eyes with the same love. “Can I choose?”

“Of course, Y/n. Anything for you.”

An hour later, and Wednesday is ready to commit homicide. Of all the movies you could have picked, you went with Mean Girls. Your defense? “It’s the feminist movement at its finest, Wednesday.”

“It’s… very pink.”

“Yeah, that’s the best part! All the decorations and outfits are amazing. They were actually part of what inspired this room’s decor.”

Wednesday looks around at the brightly colored walls, the pastel curtains, the cute pillows, and even the pink pens scattered across your desk. “I never would’ve guessed, my love.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “You’re just jealous.”

Wednesday chuckles. “Yes, very.” He agrees sarcastically. You don’t dignify him with a response, instead choosing to lay back down on his chest and go back to watching the movie. You don’t get to stay there for very long, though, because a minute later, the timer on your phone goes off.

“Mkay. Time to take this off, babe.” You poke his face mask. Wednesday rises without complaint, heading to the bathroom while you grab some water and a cloth. Internally, though, he’s begging you not to. It feels so nice, and having you apply it was one of the best feelings in the world.

As you start working through the layers of the mask with water and a gentle hand, though, Wednesday revises his thoughts—never mind the application. This was the best feeling in the world.

As you work, Wednesday leans into your hands. He would have fallen asleep if it weren’t for your whispered promises of comfy beds and pillows and cuddles.

*****

The next morning, Wednesday gets up much earlier than usual. The sun is just barely up, peeking through your pastel curtains and coating the bed in a buttery yellow. You’re burrowed into his arms, tucked safely into his chest with the messy blankets surrounding you. He takes a minute to absorb your cuteness, smiling down at you as he slowly wakes up.

“Good morning, Y/n.” He whispers, not yet wanting to wake you. You’ve reminded him time and time again that the blinking digits on the clock right now are not digits you ever want to be awake to see, and he’s taken that to heart. But he still has to kill time until you wake–maybe a run? He could drop by the gym just down the street that he really likes. Or maybe a chore? The dishwasher still needs to be unloaded.

But those all sound like too much work for this early in the day, so Wednesday settles on just getting you a coffee. A nice five-minute walk and your drowsy smile to greet him when he gets back. Perfect.

Within minutes, Wednesday is up and out. He strolls down the street, taking his time to enjoy the soft sunlight. That’s new, he suddenly realizes–and probably your doing, as well. You’re a fan of tilting your face to the sun, soaking in the warmth, and claiming the rays cheer you up. Maybe you’ve passed that onto him.

A couple more minutes tick by, and Wednesday reaches your regular coffee shop. He enters the place with a little jingle as the door opens, and is immediately greeted with the scent of dark coffee and light chatter.

“What can I get for you this morning, sir?” A too-happy employee asks him as he walks up to the counter.

Damn, what was that drink you really liked? Something with pink in it, he’s sure of it.

“Just two medium coffees, one black and one with that pink flavor, please.” Manners with normies–that’s another thing you’ve unknowingly reinforced with him.

“Our pink velvet flavoring?” That sounds right.

“Yes, that’s it. Thanks.” Wednesday pulls out his card, handing it to the guy.

“Awesome. Name?”

“Addams.”

“We’ll have those coffees right out for you, sir.”

“Brilliant.” With that, Wednesday finds an isolated corner to haunt until his name is called, quickly grabbing the coffees and exiting the building. It’s an even quicker walk back with the warm drinks providing some heat on this chilly morning.

It’s a bit of a struggle, but Wednesday manages to buzz into the building, climb the stairs to your apartment, and work the keys until your door clicks open, all with his hands full. He’s greeted with the sight of you half-asleep on the couch, the news playing softly in the background.

“What are you doing up, love?” He questions, setting the coffees down on the coffee table and kneeling on the floor.

“Wanted to see you,” you mumble, grabbing for his hand and interlocking it with yours. “Was cold in the bed without you.”

Wednesday practically melts. How can one girl be so sweet and caring? So happy?

“I’m sorry, my love. But look, I got you that coffee you like to make up for it.” He gestures to the beverages with his free hand before resting it on your head. He goes about stroking your hair, lulling you back into a dreamlike state.

“Don’t do that, I’ll fall back asleep,” you bat at his hand, trying to get it out of your hair. You were up to see him, not to fall asleep on him.

“And I will still be here when you wake up, cara mia. Go back to sleep. You’re safe here. I love you.”