#now i wait and see if someone i knew ten years ago jumps out and accuses me of using ten years of changing platforms

[rlyehtaxidermist]

anyway with SCOTUS apparently giving The Religionists a get out of civil rights free card i’m reviving the cult my old IRC group created

knowledge of the divine condemns your soul to torment. the only thing worse than knowledge is belief, the only thing worse than belief is proselytism, the only thing worse than proselytism is prophecy.

no knowledge of the divine can be recorded in permanent form (that would constitute prophecy). allusions and roundabout examples are permissible (but on thin fucking ice) so long as their meaning is not apparent to those who do not already know what they mean

anyone with excessive knowledge of the divine immediately dissolves into quark-gluon plasma with a distinct odor of piss and bacon (as happened to our founder the Trulyneutralpope and Mendaxiarch Ludentis II in a Corsican storm drain in 1982), but having any knowledge of the divine is sufficient for damnation upon your natural death and on Thursdays

we do not recognise a state of sin beyond knowledge of the divine. however there are three particular states of spiritual peril - being dreadfully serious, being on thin fucking ice, and being in polite company. none of these can have formal definitions (that would be dreadfully serious).

agreement on doctrine is sufficient - but not necessary - to constitute polite company, and thus a great spiritual risk to be avoided

to disagree on doctrine is to claim greater knowledge of the divine, and thus a greater state of spiritual danger. correcting someone spreads this knowledge and endangers them as well - proselytism.

the appropriate response to a doctrinal dispute is thus to accept your opponent’s argument unreservedly - while also preventing them from accepting yours

any three people with knowledge of the divine are considered quorate on temporal matters, so long as they are not dreadfully serious, on thin fucking ice, or in polite company.

the name of the divine is known, but can only be written as {}, and I cannot record how it is said - but adhering rigorously to this rule would be dreadfully serious, so i will step onto thin fucking ice and say it can reasonably be estimated by certain noises from the 1995 SNES video game Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island, several harsh triangle waves, and a wilhelm scream. per the Convlex of 2009, this description itself does not constitute knowledge of the divine as it does not indicate the method to assemble these parts into {}

whereforth as the author of this document is known to possess knowledge of the divine as a participant of the canonical Convlices, and has ensured that any such knowledge has been excluded, whereforth as the author has no knowledge of any Convlex having occurred in a period of no less than ten years, nor knowledge or contact of any other participants of the Convlices in the same period, whereforth as all ordinals of a Convlex are presumed to have experienced the Dissolution if they have not emerged in a period of no less than five years, whereforth as the author remains physically able to write and smells neither piss nor bacon, whereforth as the author has renounced any claim to the seat of Pope and Antipope, the author as sole surviving ordinal of the Convlices may stand witless to proclaim this document utter nonsense and of no spiritual significance, may the divine fuck off and leave us in peace

[thelostconsultant]

Instant dad - pilot

pairing: Oscar Piastri x ex!reader

summary: You have no choice but to tell Oscar he has a five years old son. Now he wants to be a part of his life to make things complicated...

note: A little warmup chapter. Oscar is in his early 30s, so yeah, there's a time jump.

[part 1]

“We would like to meet Oliver’s father. His biological father,” the principal clarified as he glanced over at your boyfriend. You’d been together for three years, he had been by your five-year-old’s side for over half his life, why wasn’t he enough?

But he insisted on meeting him, saying if he was dead and you could prove it, or if your boyfriend was your husband, they would move on with the enrollment, but you had confirmed that you weren’t married and the biological father was alive, so now they wanted to have a chat with him. He didn’t even care about the tiny little detail that said father had absolutely no idea he had a child. What a bunch of morons.

In the evening, while your son was reading a book about cars in his bed with your boyfriend, you sat by the dining table with your phone in hand, trying to figure out what to do. This fancy private school was perfect, they knew how to handle intelligent kids like Oliver, and you wanted the best for him. You wanted to make sure he didn’t get bored, that he would get the kind of intellectual challenge in school that he needed.

At the age of five, he could read on his own just fine, he even learned some Spanish from your boyfriend, and he was a quick study in general. It was infuriating how he was a mini version of his father, from his intelligence to his looks, everything reminded you of him. And if you met F1 fans together, someone surely went, “He looks so much like Piastri at his age!” Sadly, that wasn’t a coincidence, and the poor kid picked up on the whole you-look-like-him thing and chose him as his favorite driver.

Sometimes you consider telling him. Oliver, not Oscar. God, there was no way you would ever tell him the truth. He had his own, certainly busy life and he probably didn’t need a child in it. Yes, you saw the photos, he was good with kids, but meeting one for a few minutes wasn’t the same as having your own. Your son on the other hand could find out when he got old enough to understand why you had left and went no contact with his father. That was over ten years away, of course, so you had time to figure out what to do. Until then, you made sure the few photos of you and Oscar were stored somewhere safe in case he wanted to see them when the time came.

Now you were cornered, your hand forced by that damn principal. You had no idea if he was still using that old social media profile of his, but you had to try. So, you took a deep breath and started a call, deep down hoping he wouldn’t answer. You weren’t ready to talk to him, not yet, but you had no choice. And then his face showed up on your screen, the sight bringing back memories you’d been trying to forget for years.

“Hey. Are you sure it’s me you wanted to call?” he asked, although there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Nodding, you let out a sigh. “Hi. Yeah, um… I don’t even know where to start.”

“At the beginning?”

Silence followed his words, your brain in overdrive as it tried to find the best way to start. But maybe being straightforward was the right answer. “I have a son. He’s five,” you added, hoping the meaningful look you were sending his way could be seen over the screen.

After a few seconds of heavy silence, you could see the wheels turning in his head as he did some math. “Wait, five? We… That was a bit over five years ago. Could he…?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “He’s your son.”

His face was emotionless for a while as he tried to process the news, but this was nothing new, he was the king of hiding emotions. But then, just as you thought he would end the call, he let out a sigh. “Why now? What do you want from me? Money?” he asked, although you could tell he was unsure about this whole situation.

The fact he assumed you wanted money only made you angry. “It’s not your money I need. Hell, I don’t even want you to meet him,” you snapped. “The thing is, there’s this private school I want to send him to, and they have this stupid rule to have both parents present at a parental interview. Since my boyfriend and I never got married, they want to see the biological father. That’s all I want. A meeting with the principal.”

Oscar put up a finger as he bit on his lower lip, his eyes focusing on something behind his phone’s camera. “Let me get this straight. After all these years, you say I have a son, but I’m not allowed to meet him?” he then asked, looking back at you.

“Yeah.”

“One meeting,” he then stated, his voice serious. “You let me meet him once and I’ll talk to that principal.”

“Oscar, come on.”

“That’s the deal I can offer.”

You didn’t have a choice, you knew that. If he didn’t do it for Oliver, he would have to go to another school. Letting out a sigh of defeat, you nodded. “But we don’t tell him that you’re his father. He watches F1, and since he looks a lot like you, he decided that you’re his favorite driver. That’s all you’re gonna be, nothing more.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I,” Oscar began hesitantly, and you could see as he sat down on his couch and looked up at the ceiling. “You just told me I had a son. What do you want from me, to forget it? I want to meet him. I want him to know who I am.”

“He’s five. If he finds out, he’ll want to see you again. He will want you to be a part of his life. I don’t want that.”

You could see he was uncertain about this. He probably understood that becoming his father would mean he would have to regularly visit the two of you, and even if you all kept it a secret, there was still the risk of the truth slipping out and making it into the headlines. “Is he anything like me?” he suddenly asked, his eyes softening as he watched you. 

A smile crept on your lips as you thought about this, because it was so painfully obvious to you that you couldn’t deny it, no matter how badly you wanted to do that. “He’s a highly intelligent little smartass, just like you. And his looks… A mini you, no doubt.”

Oscar nodded. “Then I want to be a part of his life. Let me spend time with him,” he asked, seeming relaxed. 

“Two hours.”

“No, I’ll stay for a week, and I want to see him every day,” he was quick to clarify. “I can look out for him while you’re at work.”

Whatever happened to the idea of meeting Oliver once? That’s not what you had just discussed, and now he was changing his demands? “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” was all you said in the end.

“You said it yourself, I’m his favorite driver,” he pointed out with a smug smile. “We’ll be fine.”

You were doing this only because of the school. You remembered what Oscar could be like; if he made up his mind about something, he definitely wasn’t about to let his plan go. Now he wanted a week with his son, and you knew that was the only way he would do what you needed from him. “All right. Can I send you the school’s number so you can make an appointment? I told them you travel a lot, so they’ll need to be flexible.”

“Sure, I’ll call them as soon as I can.” You thanked him, and were just about to say goodbye when he spoke up again. “Wait, can you send me a photo or a video?”

“Yeah, I have a few hundred of those,” you replied with a smile.

Oscar remained silent, but he let out a sigh and you knew something was on his mind, something he wanted to tell you. “I still have a hard time believing it, you know.”

“You seemed pretty confident when it came to getting to know him.”

“I wanted to use my chance to corner you,” he admitted. “But this? That I have a son? Hard to believe.”

“Well, he’s yours. You’ll understand it when you meet him,” you told him kindly. 

After you said goodbye, you went up to check on Oliver and your boyfriend, but by the time you got there, they were sleeping soundly with the open book resting on your son’s chest. With a smile, you took the book and leaned down to give both of them a soft kiss. You couldn’t help but wonder how your little family’s dynamics would change with Oscar’s presence. 

Well, it wasn’t really your son you were worried about, the main issue was your boyfriend. Oscar was a famous F1 driver, someone your son idolized, of course he felt threatened. You told him it would be okay, that you didn’t have feelings for him anymore, but he didn’t seem convinced. Maybe if they met and he saw you were indifferent, he would finally trust you a lot more. One can hope, right?

[fandoms-writings]

hii pretty girl, happy celebration! you deserve everyone who follows you <3 i’m here to request a few things for ur party! (i’ll space them out in asks hehe)

for the first one, may i pmease request a small little blurb with bucky and ‘keep your eyes on me’ from the smut category? it can be any bucky of yours, one dominating and possessive 😵‍💫

thanks baby! i almost got carried away with this one 😵‍💫 i might have to revisit these two in the future - i hope you like it darlin <3

Pairing: DBF!Bucky x college!reader

Word Count: 680

Warnings: Smut 18+ ONLY, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, slight exhibitionism

come celebrate with me! || part 2

He knew you shouldn't be here - that this was wrong. 

He was your fathers best friend. But when he met you at your graduation party two years ago, he was enamored. You'd just finished your degree, getting ready to specialize at another university and after some conversation, he learned it would be the one in his city. 

He'd helped you move, helped you get settled in your apartment - which was only a ten minute drive from his house. He told you that if you ever needed anything, that he'd be there for you. 

He didn't necessarily mean it like this, but he'd gladly spend the rest of his days between your legs if it meant he didn't have to see you cry anymore. 

Sure, you muttered about how you two shouldn’t be doing this, asking what you were going to do if your father found out. Bucky assured you he wouldn't, what he was doing to you - ruining you - would be your little secret, and you let him keep going. 

You didn't pull away, you didn't tell him to stop or to leave. If the words were to leave your lips, he'd be heart broken, but he'd go. 

If you told him to, he’d walk to the ends of the earth. He’d find the edge and jump, if you so asked. 

But you didn’t. 

You let him take you out when he ran into you at the mall, you were clearly upset about something and he wanted to make you feel better. He told you to dress up and you put on the sexiest dress you had, the one that left nothing to the imagination, and let him pick you up to take you to the nicest restaurant he could find. 

Bucky listened to how you'd been sort of dating a guy from one of your classes, but turns out he was just another asshole who stood you up and cheated on you. He'd wiped your tears with his thumbs, his hands cupping your cheeks as gently as he could. 

He gave you so much time to pull away, to stop him. 

But when he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours as gently as he could, you kissed him back. 

Now, here you two were, in the back of his car, your back pressed up against the door with his head between your legs, his tongue in your core. Your hands tugged on his hair and your eyes were shut as you moaned. 

He pulled his tongue from your folds to hover just over your cunt. Reaching up, he gripped your chin and squeezed your jaw, getting you to open your eyes. 

"Keep your eyes on me," he ordered, waiting for a nod to tell him you heard him before he latched on to your clit, drawing quick tight circles over it while slipping two fingers into your warmth and curling them. 

He never let go of your jaw and you followed his order, never once taking your eyes off his - except when he brought you over the edge. Your head flew back, hitting the window as your eyes shut and you screamed. 

He pulled his face away from your clit and slipped his fingers out of you, maneuvering you to lay over the center console into the front seat, your arms holding you up on the seats. Gripping your hips and lining himself up with your center, he slammed you down on to him and reached forward, threading his hand into your hair before pulling your head up. 

"You didn't keep your eyes on me," He muttered, holding terribly still, making you squirm. "So you're gonna sit here and warm my cock until I think you deserve to cum again. How's that sound?" 

"What - what if someone sees?" You asked,  your voice thin and worn out. You had a point, if someone were to walk by and glance in the front window, they'd have a front seat view to you getting fucked. But if anything, that spurred him on further. 

"Then I'll show them who you belong to."

[dreamyvill]

Heart stopper

Angst no comfort

Not proof read

Everything went wrong so horrifically wrong, everything else horribly wrong, felt wrong the air that had been pushed into your lungs replacing the air that had been knocked out of you when you realized you’d been ambushed and the comms had been intercepted and he couldn’t hear you. How you heart was so erratic you’d bet it had to rock it’s self and count to ten to calm down after everything had settled. All the air that passed thought shallowly after you’d made your choice. Bold

Now here you were aching and screaming at the top of your lungs at the man you’d die for at any minute it didn’t matter. “fucking answer me” you said calmly trying to soothe your aching arm and heart. This felt like when you had did somthing bad and you thought someone knew and you were just waiting for the shoe to drop the anxiety you felt at the bottom of your heart and to the tops of your soul and being in every form it could possibly take.

Silence. It was infuriating “fucking answer me now” you screamed your sweet voice now high pitched and bare utterly agnostic on the eyes of everyone. Good you wanted him to suffer as you heart is…

“Luv’ m’trying to help” Simon bowed his head scared not from a physical threat or anything like that, scared of your tone you’d never spoken to anyone like that before not when you were barking orders at subordinates and not when interacting with the enemy for information. He’d much rather those voices than this. “Then fucking answer me then! Are you in love with Her”.

Bitter

“Love m’sorry” he tried to plead with you it felt like a firefighter trying to talk someone down from a cliff after the ink dried on all there notes stamped and in route. “Yes or no” you sour voice asked eyes narrowed and soppy. Hoping a quick nod would free him a swift yes of the head stepping forward trying to touch you. Bluntly stepping back chest rising and falling hard.

“Why? And don’t give me no bullshit about how you can’t help who you fall in love with that’s bullshit!” How could he love her she’d done nothing toe arm his love she wasn’t there for him how you were.

“She- she what huh what the hell did she do to deserve that?” You interrupted her was taking too long and it was pissing you off like he had a long list of reasons he was considering. “Please I don’t want to hurt you” he pleaded he never begged like this. “Mission failed bitch what is it huh” you needed a reason and he was stuck.

“She wasn’t there for you, she wasn’t the one who stood by you through the last ten months, the night terrors the ptsd. You didn’t fuck and make love to her for seven months straight sleeping next to her, waking up with her breakfast all that shit.” Did you mean nothing to him did all of that mean nothing.

“I would die for you I just took a fucking bullet for you, not because I had to but because I love you that’s not nothing there aren’t many people who would do that for love.” You had just jumped in front of a bullet to save him to make sure he didn’t die in the face of the enemy.

The coms had been jammed and there were more and more people approaching him, in a stupid act of love you raced over to his aid to see him down but fighting as well as fading into death. Fighting for him, beside him ready to give your life to save or die with him once the gun smoke cleared and you drug his limp body on one good leg and shoulder to the evac site shedding tear after tear for him praying to a god you were sure had domed you years ago. Pleading with him not to fade away in your arms an “I love you” on the top of your tongue when he asks for her.

“it’s everything” he whispered hearing how your heart broke right in front of him love gone like he had almost been.

“I hate you Simon”

[whumblr]

They are here for me

Crossed out - Prologue

-

“Dead men don’t just pop out to stretch their legs, Ava!”

“Don’t you shout at me! God, I came here to watch a movie, not to you ambushing us with conspiracy theories!”

Lucas opened his mouth to retort, but had none. Okay, yeah, he had kind of ambushed them on their weekend outing. But he had no other choice. Barging in on her at home was too dangerous. And she wouldn’t have taken that well, either. Hell, staying at his own home was too dangerous. But he needed someone to confide in. Either he was going paranoid, or he really was being watched. And neither was good.

He sat back and, to avoid Ava’s accusing glance, let his gaze roam over to the little girl now happily scurrying along the candy lane. She had been easier to pacify than her aunt; a promise of a later movie with a bag of candy to go with and she was happy to give them some time to discuss things.

A trait she probably hadn’t inherited from her aunt, or well, maybe she had… Always make a good deal. That was Ava’s motto, pounded into him ever since he started working with her. Ava wasn’t easily bought. Even at the office, if he’d try to get her in a good mood, seeing her favourite coffee drink waiting for her on her desk was only met with suspicion. Like it wasn’t just coffee but a bribe.

She was on his side here, but god, he needed something to convince her. Without sounding paranoid.

Ava followed his gaze, the girl now intensely focused, finger running over the containers trying to decide. “You owe me for this. That girl ain't stopping until that bag is full.”

“Yeah, fine, okay. Here’s ten bucks.” He slapped a bill on the side table. “And take this as well.” He carefully but deliberately placed a thumb drive on top of the bill.

Despite her anger and doubt, Ava didn't hesitate. She folded the bill over the drive, neatly packaging it, and tucked it away in her wallet. Only her voice carried her suspicion. “What is this?”

“Everything I have on that man. Files show he should have been released years ago, yet his body was brought in to the morgue directly from the prison. And now he’s gone. Nothing adds up here.”

“You couldn’t wait ‘til Monday—" Ava started, but a voice over the speakers interrupted her.

“Ladies and gentleman, at the request of the police we have to ask you to please evacuate the building through the main exit. We are deeply sorry for the inco—"

Lucas ignored the announcement at first, thinking they were just calling for the next movie to start, but at the word ‘police’ he jumped up. He flew towards the railing of the second floor, overlooking the main lobby of the movie theatre, nearly crashing right into it and leaning over.

At the floor below, people were already making their way out, flanked by a troop of military police who checked everyone leaving the building. A smaller group made their way inside, pushing through the confused crowd. Lucas watched it all unfold, equally confused by the spectacle yet also in total disbelief, ignoring the alarm bells blaring in his head.

A tall man in a long black coat who appeared to be the leader effortlessly made his way through, following his men. He oozed authority, striding his way past the crowd, his manner relaxed and calm, determined, and signalled with a single gesture of his hand for the men to split up and take the surrounding staircases up.

Lucas glanced back towards Ava, who quickly called her niece back to her and stood, ready to leave. He shook his head, gesturing for her to wait just a bit. Because this couldn’t be happening. This was proof he was just paranoid.

When he looked down again, his breath caught.

The tall man, the leader, was looking up. Straight at him. Eyes met. Narrowed. Widened, in Lucas’ case. And he knew.

The man called something out to his troopers but Lucas already pushed himself away from the railing and shot back to Ava.

“They’re here for me—” he started.

“Oh, Lucas, don’t be so dramati—”

“No. Listen. They are here for me!” he said, emphasizing each word. “I don’t have time. Take that drive and get out! You can go through the main entrance. I need you on this, Ava, please!”

And before she could even protest any further, he ran off towards the back, hoping to find an unguarded back entrance.

Useless, really. The building was probably completely surrounded by now, all escape routes cut off. But he had to try. He wasn’t going to surrender himself to them and attempt to talk this out. If they were willing to go to such lengths, in public… there wouldn’t be much to talk about.

He ran through the long hallway connecting the theatres, stomping over the red plush carpet, trying the doors to make for the emergency exit inside, but the doors had already been locked. He cursed a desperate note, continued running. His only way of escape was probably through the double doors. The main entrance, guarded by men who hopefully wouldn’t recognise him if he could just blend in with the crowd and get out, meet up with Ava.

He screeched to a halt as a rumble of heavy footsteps sounded from the end of the hallway, getting louder, getting closer. He turned on his heels and shot the other way. Heard shouts of recognition behind him. Panic seared through him and he nearly stumbled over himself in his haste to get away. Came to an abrupt halt again as two more men blocked his path from the other side.

They were armed… but they didn’t even bother reaching for their guns.

He froze for a second, fell a step back. Nearly tore his neck as he looked back; the other group now slowly closing him in. This couldn’t be happening. Right?! He glanced back and forth at the two groups of men not letting up, advancing on him as if he was a wild animal, as if he was the one who carried a weapon.

He was trapped. Completely trapped. The only option left was…

Fight! His body screamed, adrenaline bracing him, tensing his muscles. Push through!

Surrender! His mind countered instead, turning his limbs to lead with paralyzing fear as if it was already prepping to make him sink to his knees. Don’t make things worse.

Torn, he shot another glance back and forth. And made up his mind.

With a desperate scream he launched himself at the two men, hoping to bulldozer through.

They didn’t even blink.

He crashed right into them. Like crashing into a solid wall. Not giving him one inch.

One caught him by the elbow. An arm slid around his torso. A sharp pain exploded in his knee and he collapsed at their feet, half held up by his arm that was now twisted to his back. He hissed. Pain shot through his shoulder, forcing him face-down to the ground. Where he saw more combat boots drawing nearer.

“N—Get off, get—!”

He struggled with all his might, knowing full well he couldn’t throw off two trained men with their full weight on him. He flailed, begged, screamed. Bucked and twisted to get free. Managed to pull one hand free and driven by this small success, he doubled his efforts.

He vaguely registered slower footsteps drawing nearer, but with another knee forced onto his back he couldn’t look up. His chest pressed into the soft carpet. He trashed again, a final attempt—

When suddenly a harsh grip snared in his hair. His head was pulled up and before he could even realise what was going on, everything exploded in pain as his forehead slammed into the floor.

He couldn’t move a muscle for a few agonising seconds. Heard a distinct click. Made to try and bring his hands to press against his head, but something stopped him. He couldn’t see a thing, nothing but a white flash slowly fading to red, the red of the carpet that scratched his forehead as he stuttered back to life and slowly shook his head with a moan.

Two pairs of strong hands grabbed him by the upper arms, pulled him up. He followed with a groan, slouching in their grip, half bend-over, legs protesting against the weight forced on them. Blood gushed from his nose, dripped over his chin and splattered onto the carpet. His vision was still blurry. He blinked hard, trying to focus, his gaze stuttering over to the man still towering over him even now that they’d scraped him from the floor.

He barely had the strength to raise his head, merely stared straight ahead, eyes at chest height. He tried very hard to focus on one of the shiny buttons of the man’s long black coat until he was pulled upright. His gaze followed up, searching for the man’s eyes. They were the same cold eyes that had looked up at him from the lobby, now looking down with a certain cold condescension.

The man’s hard stare snapped to his subordinates.

“Take him away.” And with an equally cold harsh nod, Lucas was half carried along, down the stairs, the toes of his shoes scraping over the carpet every now and then as he struggled to keep up.

There was no mercy of a quiet exit by the stage door. The unit marched him right down the lobby, through the double doors of the main entrance, clearing a perplexed crowd to carry a bloody, half-conscious man to a police car.

He spotted Ava outside, hand in front of her mouth, eyes wide and fixed on his face. He tried to smile at her, but it probably came out as a twisted grimace. With bloodied teeth, perhaps. Not the reassurance he had in mind.

They deposited him like a limp rag in the back of the police car. The door slammed shut and he sagged against it, taking the pressure off his bound hands. The man getting in the front turned in his seat to look back at him. He could barely make out his face, but it was the man who had smashed his head in. His lips moved. Did he just say something? There was no concern in those eyes whatsoever, so Lucas doubted he asked an ‘are you okay?’.

The car blurred, the world turned to silence. And as the car rumbled to life, his vision joined gave in, everything turning black.

-

Continued here

Still untitled prison whump project tag list :) @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop

[graneymar]

Hello ✨ 

Can I have Neymar x Reader that the reader is Davi's mother, but they both broke up (like Carol and Ney), but the reader still loves Ney, and when he gets hurt (2014 World Cup), the reader is with him and takes care of him all the time, making Ney realize that the person who really loves him is the reader, in the end they are back as a family again 

your writing is very good, I love it! 💗 Sorry, English is not my primary language.

#12. NEYMAR: BACK TO YOU

SUMMARY: above

WARNINGS: none

PAIRING: Neymar x fem!reader

"Look Davi, who's there?", I said smiling, pointing at Neymar. "Papai!", Davi exclaimed happily. Neymar immediately noticed us and blew his son a kiss.

The Brazilian national team was warming up for their match against Colombia that was going to start in 30 minutes.

"Oh, hey Y/N", Rafaella greeted me, giving me a short hug. She instantly took Davi out of my arms and smooched him a hundreds of times. "I didn’t expect you to come", she continued, her focus still on her nephew. I shrugged, "I felt like I needed to finally show my support as well now that they’re in the quarterfinals. It was about damn time I attend a match."

Rafa nodded, "Yeah, we've been waiting to finally see you again." She pointed at her parents that sat down right behind us. I greeted them politely before turning around to watch Neymar and his teammates.

Actually, I tried to avoid Neymar and spend as little time with him as possible. We broke up three years ago, right after I gave birth to our son. It was his decision and I still wasn’t completely fine with it if I was being honest. I tried to get over him a million times, but every time he called, even if it was only to hear his sons voice, or came over to pick up Davi, my heart still was racing; I still felt those butterflies in my stomach. We could’ve been a match made in heaven, in my opinion at least, but Neymar seemed to look at it differently. He jumped from one relationship to another, letting me think it was easy to forget about me. Yes, he hurt me, but I couldn’t even blame him. Just because I was unable to become interested in someone else than him, didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to find love and happiness.

Rafaella and I always remained good friends though. She also was the only one who knew about my feelings for Neymar. When we got drunk one time, I accidentally told her, crying my heart out.

——————————————————————————

We were all cheering for Brazil, until only ten minutes before the end of the match, Colombia had a penalty - and scored. It didn’t mean much to me since Brazil was still about to win with two goals, but I noticed the match getting wilder, the Colombians seemed to feel pressured and became more aggressive.

There were only three minutes left when I saw Neymar laying on the ground - again. He has been fouled countless times throughout the match, but I realised something was off the moment Marcelo called the doctors to come. Neymar wouldn’t stop screaming and crying, it looked like he was even unable to move. I watched the staff carrying him off the field and started panicking. Whatever just happened was far from an 'ordinary' injury, I have never seen Neymar like this before. Tears started forming in my eyes, my whole body shivered. I quickly gave Davi to Rafaella and ran down the stairs, heading right into the building. I followed Neymars screams and shouts as the tears rolled down my cheeks. "Neymar!", I shouted out when I finally found him. Staff and doctors were surrounding him. One of them tried to move Neymars leg, which had to be incredibly painful according to how he cried out. "Y/N", he mumbled a few seconds later, just now noticing I was standing beside him, "Are you crying?" Seeing him in pain, not knowing what was going on, I couldn’t hold myself back from bursting out into tears. "Bebê, não chora. Estou bem. [Baby, don't cry. I'm good]" He tried to fake a smile but the pain was clearly visible in his eyes. He got carried away again, while all I did was silently pray that he'd be okay.

——————————————————————————

"Let me help you with your stuff", Neymar said as I entered his apartment with three bags and Davi on my arm. I looked at him in disbelief. "Boy, you're in a fucking wheelchair. You won’t touch a thing, understood?" He rolled his eyes. Obviously he was annoyed at how he couldn’t help with anything, but thinking of the fact that he almost got paralysed, I preferred him being mad at me than see him hurt again. "You really don’t have to do all of this, Y/N. I would’ve called my mom or sister if I needed something", he insisted.

"Mhm, okay, and who will clean the house, who will make sure you don’t slip while showering, who will stop you from doing shit you’re not supposed to do?", I asked raising my eyebrows. Davi already found his way to his fathers lap. "Ahh, you want to shower with me?", Neymar smirked. I held back a laugh, but couldn’t stop myself from grinning widely, "No idiot, I'm just making sure you do not slip, fall and break your neck."

Now that Neymar was finally home after being in the hospital for days, I decided Davi and I would stay at his place so I could take care of him until he got better. Of course his family tried to support him too, but Neymar has always been too stubborn. He was convinced he could do everything on his own. This way, he would’ve pushed his friends and family away sooner or later. I wouldn’t allow him to do me like that, so he knew he had no other choice than let me help him.

The first week passed. I tried my best to keep the house clean, we cooked together, watched a lot of movies and played around with Davi, who was the happiest to finally have both of his parents around. Even the bond between Neymar and me became much better again. We were finally able to talk to each other and hang out without making it somehow awkward. Whenever Davi was already asleep, we would drink one or two glasses of wine, play video games or simply talk for hours. This made me realise how much I missed his presence, but also how much love I actually had left for him. And it was a whole lot.

It was in the middle of the night when I heard a loud noise. "Shit", I murmured to myself. I quickly jumped out of the bed, still tried to be as quiet as possible to not wake Davi up. Getting out of the room, I saw the bathroom lights shine from under the door. I heard Neymar inaudibly cursing himself out. "Hey there, are you okay?", I asked as I softly knocked on the door. "I'm fine", he coldly answered. I rolled my eyes at the mister showing off his attitude again. "Can I come in?"

"Y/N, I said I'm fine. Go sleep or do whatever you want", he replied in a kind of mad tone. I took a deep breath and decided to wait for him to come out, so I could check if he was actually alright.

Only a few seconds later I heard some banging again. "Okay whether you want me to or not, I'm coming in now", I warned him before swinging the door open. There he was, sitting on the floor, looking up at me in frustration and disappointment. "Where’s your wheelchair?"

"I tried to walk on crutches", he said pointing at them laying on the floor. "Ney", I started as I sat down next to him, "You know you're too weak yet. The doctor said you need to use the wheelchair for at least another week." He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. "It would’ve been fine if there wasn’t any water on the floor. I slipped, just like you predicted it would happen", he said, a small grin formed in his face at the last part. "Are you okay though? Does anything hurt?" He shook his head left and right, his eyes wandering to the floor. "Y/N, why are you doing all of this?" My brows furrowed at his question. "You do not owe me anything, we’ve been barely talking lately and yet you are the one who’s really there for me. I'm just trying to understand where this is coming from", he explained. I softly smiled. "Remember how I said you could always count on me, no matter what? I promised you - good times, bad times, whatever might happen between us, I would always be there for you. And you know I'm not one to break promises." He chuckled, but his facial expression again turned serious in a matter of second. "But that was before I hurt you." I nodded as I got flashbacks of how broken I was after he called it quits. "To be honest, I often think back and regret it. Leaving you was probably the dumbest decision I've ever made. We could’ve been a happy family now", he said, breaking the silence. "No, it wasn’t stupid of you. There’s no reason to stick around when the love is gone. You've been honest with me and looking back, I can finally say I appreciate and respect you for it. It would‘ve been worse if you played pretend instead", I answered.

"But… but what if… what if the love was never gone?", he suddenly said. My eyes widened. What the hell was he talking about? "I broke up with you because I was naive and egoistic, not because I didn’t love you. I wanted to see what life has to offer, thought I could do better - but I couldn’t. The last days I realised that everything I was looking for the last years was what I left behind… and I'm afraid I'm not getting the chance to get it back." I swallowed hard at his words. There were only two options to what would happen now: Either I was about to become the happiest woman on Earth or this would be the biggest disappointment I experienced in a long time. "Can you please say something?", he interrupted my thoughts. "What do you want me to say Neymar? I'm confused, I'm not sure what you’re on about."

"Do you think that there’s a possibility of us getting back together?" After hesitating for a short moment, I nodded in response. His lips formed a sweet smile and his eyes lit up, "Really?"

"I've been thinking the same, I just didn’t expect you to feel this way", I told him. My heart was racing, I got absolutely weak in the knees. "I didn’t start feeling this way just now, it’s been quite a while", he admit. We simply sat there, looking deeply into each others eyes, both of us grinning like crazy. Neymar was slowly leaning for a kiss that I was about to return, when we heard some weird noises. Turning our heads to the bathroom door, we saw our toddler staying there, expressing his disgust by acting like he’s puking. "Baby, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you sleeping?", I asked, trying to hide the fact that I was slightly blushing. Davi babbled something that I was unable to understand until Neymar replied to him. "Sim", he laughed, "Mommy and Daddy like each other a lot." Davi again crinkled his nose in disgust and walked out of the room. "Get used to it, meu filho [my son]", Neymar shouted after him. I slightly slapped his shoulder, both of us bursted out into laughter.

"Where did we stop again?", he smirked before finally crashing his lips onto mine. "Another one", he whispered after we pulled away from each other.

[hornyramostan]

After all this time?; Cristiano Ronaldo

Two years had passed since you last saw your best friend. He had left Portugal for Spain to expand his football career and join a team. You yourself recommended it to him after watching him play throughout his life trying so hard to go far, because you also trusted what he could do. You also recommended it to him, because you hadn't thought about all the time you weren't going to see him. You lied when you told him not to think so important and that you didn't miss him madly.

Cristiano and you have known each other for more than ten years and throughout your life you have been asked many times if you were a couple, you always denied it with a certain disgust, as if it was crazy, but deep down you knew that you would not dislike the idea of dating the attractive soccer player you had as a friend. Clearly you never confessed it to him because it could go very wrong and ruin your relationship, so in that time when Cris wasn't around, you tried to meet new people to distract your head, and, why not, find a part-time lover.

When you entered university you met a boy named Lionel who sat next to you. The both chatted a couple of times from the moment he went to class wearing a T-shirt from your favorite band "The Strokes" If there was something you liked in boys it was that they have good musical tastes, and this was the case with this boy. A few days ago the teacher had given the instructions for a work in pairs and you had no better idea than to do it together. Leo would go to your house that afternoon to meet, what you didn't know is that someone else had also planned to go to your house that afternoon, but as a surprise.

Half past three in the afternoon and the doorbell rang at your house. You finished accommodating the books and went to open the door. By the time you could see what was behind it, you had to hold on to the frame "Have you missed me darling?" There he was, your best friend was back. "CRISTIANO" You said as you detached yourself from the door to jump into his arms. You didn't remember hugging him so tight ever, you really missed him. "What the hell are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Spain? "Well I missed my family and I also wanted to tell you that-" "Wait, let's go home because it looks like it's going to rain and I don't want you to catch a cold"

When the both entered you noticed that he had a confused face "Did something happen?" You asked curiously "Why is everything so arranged and why is there a snack for two prepared? Were you expecting someone else?" "Actually-" You were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell "Yes, I invited a friend to do some university work at home, I hope you don't mind" You told him as you reached the front door, which you opened with a huge smile,naccording to Cristiano, who had changed his expression from confused to furious.

"I brought yerba to drink mate, it's a very common drink in Argentina and I think you'll like it" "Awww leo thanks, now let's go inside because it's cold and raining" As soon as you closed the door you noticed the tension that existed among your guests, but you decided to ignore her "Well, let me introduce you, Cris this is Leo, a friend from uni and Leo this is Cris, a childhood friend" "BEST friend, you mean" the Portuguese plaintiff corrected. Both, Leo and you, looked at each other being complicit in a clear scene of jealousy "Well, let's get to work"

This is how the afternoon passed, Leo and you did what you had to do. You laughed and drank mate with biscuits while Cristiano watched the scene from affair, although they offered him several times to join the conversation, he just shook his head.

"Well, thanks for coming leo, I had a lot of fun, see you on Monday!" "I'm saying the same y/n, greetings to you and your friend!" Your coworker said as he walked out the door.

"May I know why you laughed so much with him?" The Portuguese blurted out "Because at least he spoke, not like others who sit with an ass face judging with their eyes, oh and I didn't like that little scene you did at the beginning Cristiano, nothing at all" "And how do you want me to react if MY best friend just replaces me as if nothing?" "SORRY? AS IF NOTHING? YOU WERE THE ONE WHO DIDN'T WRITE TO ME FOR TWO YEARS CRISTIANO, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I MISSED YOU AND HOW MUCH IT HURTS ME TO SEE THAT YOU NEVER REMEMBERED ME" You were furious. Like nothing? He didn't know how much you missed him? "DO YOU THINK I HAD TIME TO WRITE YOU? I COULDN'T EVEN WRITE TO MY PARENTS" They were both silent "I missed you a lot too, more than you can imagine, I missed your hugs, your face, your voice, seeing your eyes, god I missed you so much y/n, and when I saw that another person arrived I was afraid, I was afraid because I thought I had lost my chance" "Your chance for what?" "From this" And before you could react, he grabbed you by the waist, attracting you to him and the both melted into a passionate kiss. You separated due to lack of air and once ecovered it, you kissed again. It was as if the both could finally demonstrate that desire that they had.

They separated and looked into each other's eyes, and the only thing they could say was "I love you".

[kirain]

I've been on this site for over ten years and I've never had to do this, but sadly the time has come where I feel forced to make a call out post, if only for the safety of my blog.

Please do not harass this person. PLEASE DO NOT HARASS THEM! That is not my goal here. That said, I do suggest you avoid them at all costs, for your own safety and sanity.

A few days ago, I made a post responding to some anonymous hate I received regarding Gale Dekarios, a character from BG3. An account named Turtwg, who has now changed her name to Shdowheart, took issue with the content and tone of my post. Instead of simply blocking me, she attacked me and several other people in the notes, and accused me of sending the anon to myself.

I responded, arguing against her accusations and a few other remarks she made. Just typical fandom discourse. Or so I thought.

I regret it now (only because I've lost some evidence), but I deleted many of her and my messages. They were clogging up my post and veering extremely off topic, but eventually she admitted I didn't send the anon to myself. When I asked her how she knew that, she said she traced the anon to a Gale-centric account. You see, she believed the anon wasn't sent by an Astarion fan, but by a Gale fan trying to create discourse. In a normal situation, I'd say that's a fair assumption for anyone to make, but something seemed off.

First of all, despite several people telling her it's not possible to track down blogs through their anonymous messages, she insisted she found the user responsible—which honestly made me wonder if she sent the anon herself, hoping to create drama. If she did, then mission accomplished, I guess. We messaged back and forth in the notes for a while, with me commenting on both the impossibility and morality of tracking down an anonymous user. During that time, her responses to me were lightning fast. Constant. Remember that for later.

Second, she soon told me she had the anon's IP address, which she said she'd "happily send me". I told her an IP address doesn't prove anything because it can be photoshopped and a lot of people use VPNs. I also pointed out how utterly insane it is to dox/cyberstalk someone over a post about a video game. It's really not that serious. But out of sheer curiosity, I told her to give me the blog name. Not because I believed her, but because I was curious to see if she'd accuse a popular blog or someone who could defend themselves. The moment I asked, she went silent for nearly an hour. 🤔

When she came back, she gave me the name of an account called Dekariosbf. She told me to message the account, so I did, though I made no accusations against them yet. As I waited for a reply, I accused Turtwg of making the account herself, as it was barren with no activity whatsoever. No likes, no posts, nothing. She easily could've created the account during that hour of peace. Moreover, after she gave me the account name and I accused her of creating it, her responses were once again lightning fast. 🤔

As we argued, I sent my brother-in-law and a friend of mine a link to my blog and had them read through the discourse. They don't have Tumblr accounts, but they're both computer nerds and my brother-in-law literally works with computers/programs for a living. I asked them if anything Turtwg said was valid, and they (along with someone else in the notes who claimed to work in UI/UX) confirmed that no, absolutely nothing she said was valid. Tumblr pays for a service that protects their users, and the only way to trace anons is by using extremely unsavory and illegal methods ... and even then it's extremely unlikely to work.

Speaking of, my brother-in-law eventually messaged me and told me he found the actual account that sent the anon. I stupidly believed him and jumped the gun on that, because it turns out he was just being a shit disturber. That said, I used this information to call Turtwg out on her lies. In response, Dekariosbf miraculously (and in a rather timely fashion) responded to me. Unfortunately I don't have any screenshots of this interaction, but I'll explain why in a moment.

Dekariosbf was chatty and cordial at first. I asked them for their main account name, but they refused to give it, saying they only use it for poetry; which, as you can see from the screenshot, directly contradicts their bio, but I digress. I was suspicious, but also kept in mind the possibility that this might've been an innocent person Turtwg accused. For a while we shot the shit, talking back and forth about BG3, reading, teaching—but I did this for a reason. I wanted to get a feel for their writing style. Sure enough, they wrote exactly like Turtwg. Same spelling mistakes, same pattern of punctuation, same use of lower case letters instead of capital letters, same abbreviations, etc.

Finally, when I was sure it was her, I dropped the bomb. I very gently told "Dekariosbf" that someone named Turtwg accused them of sending me a hateful Gale anon, but that I didn't believe it. Low and behold, they did a complete 180.

"Yes, it was me. It was totally me. I just LOVE your blog and RESPECT you so much. I LOVE Gale and I wanted to know what you'd say if I sent that anon. It wasn't meant to be hateful. Please don't write a call out post about me. Please don't tell your followers. I mean, I understand if you do, but please don't. Turtwg messaged me and threatened to dox me and sent me a photo of my IP address. She's so smart, I don't think you should mess with her. Oh and my mom can't speak English. If we get doxxed, I think it would kill her."

Right...

I said I didn't believe them and accused them of being Turtwg on a sock account. They kept insisting they weren't, begged me to believe they sent the anon (and I mean they were desperate for me to believe it), and very strangly didn't express any anger or confusion over the situation. When I brought up the accusation, they completely changed their tone from friendly to "oh yeah, that was me". I kept saying I didn't believe them, particularly because of what my brother-in-law said, but promised not to call any attention to them. I was happy to simply let the matter rest. Suddenly, mid conversation, they deleted their entire blog. Poof. It's gone now, along with all our messages.

I thought that would be the end of it, but not even five minutes after Dekariosbf flung themselves into the void, Turtwg herself DMed me out of nowhere and accused me of trying to hack her account, presumably because I told "Dekariosbf" that my brother-in-law is computer savvy. Keep in mind that before this moment, our entire conversation took place in the notes of my post. I never DMed her, nor did I have any intention of doing so. I also had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, I just knew she was lying to me. Now it looks as though she's ramping up to lie to the Tumblr admins in order to get my account deleted.

And all because my post about a video game made her angry.

I really hate drawing attention to this. You can see in my other posts that I always censor people's usernames, but as I said at the beginning ... I don't feel like I have a choice this time. I want this up so the Tumblr admins or whoever can see it.

Turtwg has attacked other people for posting their opinions as well. For example, she attacked this person just because they expressed their opinon on wyllsterion. She went so far as to call them racist when Wyll is literally one of their favourite characters. She just got mad because they don't think Wyll and Astarion make sense together; a perfectly valid opinion. And I only know about this because I received messages warning me about interacting with Turtwg/Shdowheart from someone who recognised them in the notes of my post.

I guess I should've blocked her from the start, but I've said many times in the past that I enjoy a good debate. Plus I was genuinely curious to see how far she was willing to take her lie. Unfortunately, I underestimated just how unhinged she truly is. On her own blog, she's even admitted that she's had to make a new account seven times, likely due to other drama she started.

I was very hesitant to put this in the BG3 tags, but since that seems to be the fandom she interacts with the most, I figured it would be a fair warning to anyone else she might harass. She's particularly active in the Astarion/Wyll/Wyllsterion tags. Stay safe, everyone. I think I'll sign off for a while. I'm tired, and this has somehow become the most toxic fandom I've ever dared to be a part of.

Please do not harass this person. PLEASE DO NOT HARASS THEM! That is not my goal here. That said, I do suggest you avoid them at all costs, for your own safety and sanity.

[zaceouiswriting]

Betrayal

Characters: Brett Talbot x male reader, Isaac Lahey x male reader

Universe: Teen Wolf

Warnings: None

"Brett! I need your help!” You called into your house when you opened the front door while your little brother was still in the car. When you looked at him - as you waited for your husband - you noticed again that your brother is not that small anymore. Big enough that you can't carry him on your own. Although these new procedures are slowly getting him back on his feet, walking or standing up without much help is still too much for him.

For a moment, you just stood in the open door, waiting for your man to come from somewhere, most likely shirtless. But even minutes later he didn't come.

Worried, you entered slowly and carefully. After all, you never knew if a group of hunters might have found your man. With your heart beating like crazy, so fast that it concerned you that all supernatural beings in a ten-kilometer radius would soon come to look at what was happening, you moved to the living room. As quietly as you could, you opened a hidden wall and pulled out one of your late father's guns. Your homemade miracle weapon is already loaded.

With that gun safely in hand, you first checked every room on the first floor, but nothing was there, no person and no sign of a fight... no signs at all. Now really worried, you started stumbling up the stairs, beads of sweat pouring down your forehead from the warmth of your body, almost obscuring your field of vision.

You took one of your hands off the gun to wipe away the beads of sweat. But it didn't help much. Soon there were more, which put even more concern in your mind.

After a few steps, you could hear a sudden noise. You couldn't really make out what the sound was, so you stopped and looked up and down the stairs to make sure no one was walking past you. At the same time, you listened carefully.

It was quiet again for a while. But as soon as the sound returned, you were already on high alert. It sounded like a groan of pain, as if someone -most likely Brett - was badly hurt.

Light as a feather, you bounded up the rest of the stairs, almost silently, your gun slightly lowered as you passed locked doors. The further you walked, the closer you got to where the sounds were coming from, making you tremble with fear that Brett was being tortured.

When you had to stand in front of the room where everything happened, your blood ran cold. It was... your bedroom? Your shared bedroom! The bedroom you are sharing with your husband! Who on earth is sick enough to torment someone in their own bedroom?

You stood there to make sure it was the correct room, and when you were sure: you yanked open the door, raised your gun, and searched the room. But once the bed you slept in just a few hours ago, with your husband by your side, is a sight you will never forget. "Mum?" Your voice cracked, calling out the only "parent" you had left.

She just looked at you lazily and grinned. At the same time, through her movement, you could see who was below her: whom she rode like a horse.

The first thing you wanted to do was shoot them both. Instead, you turned around and slammed the door behind you. Just to be safe, you locked your gun: so you couldn't shoot even if you wanted to.

Mumbling curses, hot salty tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. "Babe, wait! I can explain it!” You heard your husband's deep voice. Which just a few hours ago made you jump with lust. Now you made you want to strangle the bastard.

"I'm sure you have an elaborate, sad excuse for shagging my drug-addict mother who tried to kill me multiple times, spent the last ten years in prison, and paralyzed my brother."

He already knew all that. After all, there's no getting around not telling such important things like that. In the end, it would have come out anyway.

"She's clean and wanted to reconcile, one thing leads to another and-"

"Yet you fucked her, destroyed my trust in you, and asked me if she was the only one." At this point, you both were standing in front of your house - Brett was only in his underwear, though. "Let me guess. You two had a secret affair for at least six months. Because she is out of jail since then, she's most likely been telling you some shitty sob story about how my dad kept her away and used his contacts to get her into trouble, that she's actually the good parent."

From his silence, you could tell you'd hit the nail on the head, and you backed away in disgust. "She only loves herself. She never wanted to make up in her life, but I can tell you, she wants your money. She knows you're are loaded, and since she doesn't have access to my or my brother's money. She must have thought my hot bisexual husband might be an easier target. And unfortunately, she was right."

When you rushed over to your car, your brother sat in his seat in absolute shock. Although recent surgeries have been a success, and he has regained some control of his body, he still has a long way to go. Brett was like another older brother to him, a rock to both of you. Hearing your babble obviously upset him. But at this moment, you couldn't talk about it, too upset about the whole situation. So you just started the car, let Brett bang against the car doors as you rolled down the driveway, drove off immediately, and left him in the dust.

Kay didn't even look at you, too deep in thought. Subconsciously he played with his hands. It made you happy to see him moving at all and seeing him exercise when he was stressed made it even better. Even if he still has a lot of work to do before he can fully use any part of his body again.

For about two hours, you just drove around. But Kay began to whine about his body aching from being cooped up in the car the entire time.

You knew you had to crash somewhere. So you went to the only place you could think of. With a heavy sigh, you turned the wheel to head back toward the city you so badly wanted to leave behind forever.

Deeper into the city and not back to the outskirts, you were living a happy life until that wrench of a woman came back like the plague and destroyed it again.

You soon found yourself in a relatively newly built skyscraper. You carefully got your brother out of the car, put him in his wheelchair, and wheeled him into the lobby. The guard greeted you warmly and asked if he should warn him before you just stood to get to his door. But you waved him off and wished him a nice day after he gave you a visitor pass.

You knocked on the door quite softly; you visit so often. Someone scrambled inside but quickly got to the door. As soon as the door opened, the breath caught in your throat.

"Is everything ok?"

"Not really," you told him, almost throwing up at his feet. "Can we come in?"

He just stepped to the side because he knew you would tell him what was going on soon enough. "Can I go back to one of the guest rooms?"

"Of course, little buddy. You know where to go, don't you?" Isaac's smile was so bright as he spoke to your brother. It warmed and melted your heart at the same time.

Kay immediately used all his strength to roll over there. The moment you heard the door shut, you broke down: you cried ugly tears and fell to your knees. And all before your host could even react.

"Calm down! Your heartbeat is too fast!"

You hate his wolf hearing, you can never lie to him, and he always knows when something is wrong. He soon came to your side and pulled you into his arms. You've been a bit distant with him for the past few years after he's openly admitted to everyone about his feelings for you. Brett had no problem with your friendship with Isaac because he knew you only loved him. But you didn't see fit to get too close to Isaac under the circumstances.

He was right. Nothing had ever happened between you and Isaac. Now you hated yourself for it. You should have followed your heart when you fell a little in love with your childhood friend after a year with Brett, but you thought Brett would be a better husband. How wrong you were back then; you should have left Brett and gone to your childhood friend instead. After all, everyone knew your husband was a player, but you thought he'd changed, that you'd tamed him enough to remain loyal, but now you know it was just wishful thinking.

Isaac only held you for a long time, later even carried you to the couch, put a blanket over you, and even went so far as to make hot chocolate with little marshmallows: just as you like it.

"So what happened?"

You feared this question. But you knew it would come sooner or later. Suddenly your eyes went dry, and your sadness turned to numbness as if nothing had happened. It sends chills down Isaac's spine to see you like this. Fear overcame him, even trying to put some distance between the two of you, but you crawled onto him as if your life depended on it.

Sitting there, a frightened Isaac, and you, clinging to him, have told your story. That you believed for about two years that your husband had multiple affairs but could never prove it; On this day, however, you caught him in the act.

Isaac tensed up at the mention of an affair, but when it dawned on him that you had mentioned several, his face twisted into one with anger. But you weren't even in the best part yet.

Isaac knows your mother and how terrible this woman was to you and your brother that even the state didn't want to hand you over to her after your father died but had no choice until she paralyzed Kay. You were then emancipated and took custody of him. With your father's money, you could easily find a caretaker for your brother when he came out of the hospital or rehab.

So when you told him how you found her in your marital bed with your husband, he got up, pushed you back on the couch, and paced the room.

He cursed under his breath, cursing Brett to death, mumbling that he gave him a chance to be with you before he would've picked you up. And if he hadn't gone to France, you would have been certain that you never married Brett, but him: your childhood friend, first crush, and first love, even if it was just on your side.

As you saw his anger spiraling out of control, as he slowly transformed, you stood up yourself, but it was too late; cabinets and closets were his victims, poor wooden things.

"I swear if I get my hands on that little rat, I-"

Suddenly a loud knocking was heard. Both Isaac and you looked at each other in shock. They both seemed to know where the other side was, and neither wanted to deal with it.

[Masterlist]

[sevrai]

Armored Core

I went on a journey this year. Or maybe I should say I continued an old journey.

On July 10th, 26 years ago, the first Armored Core released in Japan. On an unknown day about 20-ish years ago a young me stumbled upon a copy of Armored Core 3 for the PS2 in a used game store.

It's been some time since I decided to indulge in a lengthy, meandering post about my loves and hobbies outside of awkward Twitter threads, so I wanna air my thoughts on the Armored Core series! (This is gonna be a long post, primarily for my own enjoyment. You have been warned.)

Most who know me online or read my comics will know of my penchant for fantasy, but not all may know of my love for the "Real Robot" subgenre of mecha. As someone obsessed with DBZ and magic, you'd think I'd fall more into the epic "Super Robot" camp of mecha anime, but growing up I felt captivated with Gundam Wing and the Universal Century OVAs that aired on Toonami and Adult Swim. They hard-wired my DNA early on. (With the Escaflowne film later impacting me so hard with it's grounded mecha and magical fantasy setting that it played a huge role in inspiring WOE, though my comic is noticeably lacking in Guymelefs.)

Naturally that awe and love for such works made me feel incredibly drawn to Armored Core 3 when I first saw it. It was my introduction to a series that I wouldn't comprehend the true breadth of for well over a decade.

I was terrible at it, both due to my lack of experience with TPS games and the oldschool control scheme, but the customization, detail, and overall atmosphere of the game were incredible to experience all the same.

It wasn't until the holiday season of 2008 that I was finally able to fight through an AC campaign, when I was gifted a PS3 and several games, among which was Armored Core: For Answer. It blew me away. I already had fond memories of bumbling around AC3, but For Answer's over-the-top presentation, haunting soundtrack, challenging gameplay, and dystopic atmosphere really sucked me in.

Along with Demon's Souls it kick-started a general admiration of FromSoftware and the distinct games they developed. After getting swept up in the excitement of Dark Souls, me and a friend dabbled in Armored Core V and Verdict Day, even playing a decent amount of the territorial multiplayer, but it never drew me in like AC3 and AC4A did.

The years went on and although I always adored Armored Core, I took my sweet time getting around to going backwards in the series. I've always been a fan of emulation and rarely used to feel a particular drive to collect physical games, (can't say the same for myself nowadays. Sorry, wallet!) but I always remembered how much AC resonated with me, and when walking around used game stores I would muse to my friends that I wanted to someday collect all of the Armored Core games in physical form.

I made relaxed progress grabbing the games when I saw them over the years, but at the end of 2022, the Game Awards hit everyone with a bombshell reveal. The show faded to black, the screen eventually being lit by the Bandai Namco logo, followed by a little red light. Something in my soul knew what was coming as soon as I saw that simple red light start to glow, I jumped out of my seat and exclaimed out loud "Armored Core!?"

It was a trailer for Armored Core VI: Fires of Rubicon, the first new AC game in ten years. It was a surreal moment that still makes me smile now.

The series was always niche, but since it went dormant From has achieved superstar status as a developer thanks to the Souls series and Elden Ring. There's now more attention and interest in Armored Core than it has ever gotten in the past. It didn't dawn on me until a buddy messaged me shortly after the reveal that the prices of the old games were gonna go crazy from the huge amount of people who were From fans but had never heard of AC, and were now interested in trying the old games.

Some were content to wait patiently to see if the market and prices would calm down, but I took a gamble and started shoring up my collection ASAP. Sure it felt embarrassing paying so much more for several of them than they were going for a mere few weeks earlier, but I supplemented my hunt by selling a few rare old SHF and Figmas.

After a few tense months of scanning listings for good prices with some very focused personal criteria, the result was expensive but satisfying;

On top of this investment I even went all-in on the Premium Edition of ACVI. Perhaps people should rightfully poke fun at me for throwing so much money around for video games about giant robots, but it's not often I can say I accomplished a goal of this caliber in my life.

Now with all the games in hand a new journey had begun; from collecting to playing. I've played Armored Core games off and on since the early 2000's, but I was only just now finally making the pilgrimage through the series proper from the very first release, alongside the huge wave of newcomers dipping their toes into the old games before the new one comes out. Like an Armored Core version of Billy Madison.

I started playing the PSOne Classics release of AC1 on my PS3, before transitioning to my PS2 Slim once all of the PSX games were in my hands. Learning that both systems used funky software emulation for PSX games I went on a subquest of ordering and cleaning up a SCPH-39001 model PS2, (which was super nostalgic in it's own right since I started with a fat PS2 in 2003,) hooked up to a massive KV-36FV310 via component cables. I even went down a DualShock 2 model rabbit hole. Every game now looks and runs like a dream on this hedonistic setup.

As of the day I'm posting this silly blog post, I am seven games deep. I have 100%'d, (all parts unlocked, all missions complete, all enemy AC beaten both optional fights in missions and in the Arena,) without any Human PLUS enhancements or OP-INTENSIFY used, and even sticking with the default control scheme:

Armored Core

AC: Project Phantasma

AC: Master of Arena

Armored Core 2

AC2: Another Age

Armored Core 3

… And right now I'm just a few percent shy of 100%ing AC3: Silent Line. Sorry if this sounds like juvenile bragging, but it's always been hard for me to focus on and finish games. My ADHD has me jumping from game to game for years on end, never seeing many of them through to the end, so I want to indulge in a bit of pride being able to spend several months blasting through these games without slowing down, and without taking any shortcuts.

Admittedly I haven't played on Hard Mode in any of the games that have offered it, and Silent Line is really pushing me to my limit demanding S Ranks on every mission, but I'm still enjoying it and hoping to finish it up in time to sample a bit more of the games I missed out on, as well as make a nostalgic return to For Answer, by the time ACVI comes out.

Returning to Armored Core 3 felt especially sentimental. Like a return home. I'm sure many people can relate to the feeling of returning to a childhood game with newfound abilities and knowledge, finally able to do what your younger self could not. Having beaten the game that started this whole obsession for me about two decades ago is a really great feeling.

I adore these games. I always loved the few I did play as a youngster, and knew that From was a consistent enough developer that I would enjoy the rest as well, but not to the extent I truly have. Despite the time and money spent collecting them, I still underestimated just how much I'd fall in love with each and every one. Even the aspects others struggle to return to. I love the FCS quirks, the turn speed, the bunny hopping, the heat and energy management, the opponents riddled with cybernetic enhancements pushing you to your limits, I even love the old controls of using L2/R2 for vertical camera movement. For all it's quirks and older design philosophies it's such an engrossing and immersive series.

ACVI will be a very different, (and streamlined,) beast. I'm okay with this. My adoration for old Armored Core will only make it easier to return to and appreciate this storied series I've gone to such lengths to collect, even after the new one releases. I trust From to do the series justice, no matter how easy it is for newcomers to jump in.

I love Armored Core, I love this genre of mecha, and I hope lots of people will learn to love it as well. I want the new game to do well so we can see more in the future. I sincerely doubt anyone will actually have read all of this, but if you did, thanks for your time. I know my rambling can be unfocused and pretentious. I don't need to put this much effort into waxing nostalgic about video games, but I miss the part of me that used to do this on a regular basis.

(I also apologize for how much my comic updating will probably slow down when ACVI drops, regardless of what momentum I can build through July and August.)

[bates--boy]

It never failed to make Peter feel like a child whenever he sat in this chair. Hunched over, head bowed, eyes low and watching the way one hand rung the other to the point he was sure that he could break a few of his bones or pop some veins. How should he start this? An apology, maybe? It seemed fit for after ghosting for so long; then again, it wasn’t like the other man was sitting at home waiting for his return, twiddling his thumbs by the phone waiting for Peter’s call. Peter knew he wasn’t important enough to occupy anyone’s mind beyond a few seconds. He always knew, but now he really got it.

        But, oh, wait, the question. A simple one, too, yet the hardest one to answer. “I’ve been... Great! Great! Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, right? Ha ha ha...!” He sighed, reached up to play with a braid, only to remember the chop and shave of what felt like long ago, since kept to a manageable peach fuzz. He let his hand fall to his neck to massage it, eyes falling right back to the floor. “...Really, though, I’ve been ambivalent, I guess? I’m still making music, still writing books. Touring for both has been hell, as you can guess, but my crew has been gracious about it. My agent, too, and honestly, they all saved my ass. Also, um...” His hands clasped together again, wringing once more.

           “...I... I have a kid.”

           Peter fell silent, closing his eyes and stretching his tether beyond this room, kilometers out beyond Karlstad; somewhere, nestled in the softest and warmest blankets money can buy, she and he shared a heartbeat.

            Ba-ba-bump-bump. Ba-ba-bump-bump.

          Peter didn’t need to see himself to know what he may look like to the other: eyes glassy with tears, cheeks flushed a deeper pink than usual, a small and feather-light smile lighting his face. “My ex -- you know, Ashira-- never told me I had a daughter, even after she learned that she wasn’t Naseem’s. Hell, Naseem was the one to tell me about her!” He ran his hands down his face, and let them fall down  into his lap. He hung his head back to grin bitterly at the light fixture. “That man will never stop turning my world upside down, will he?

         “But, yeah, it never stops being shocking to me. I still wake up and think, ‘I have a child. I have a daughter. I’m a dad! I’m going to have to change diapers for maybe another ten years!’ But, you know, I think changing diapers for a few years seem like a fair trade for... for this peace that she brings me.” Peter found it easier to gather his thoughts as he stared at the soft light above them, though it did nothing to stop the lump forming in his throat. 

         “She’s everything that I could ever ask for, and much, much more. Like... everything that I had went through for my entire life, after the shit I went through with the people I fell in love with and I thought loved me... After losing them and Caleb and just falling and falling... And waiting for the crash and never wanting to wake back up when it happens...” Or walking past bridges and forcing himself to not jump, forcing himself to take only the needed dose of his meds instead of choking them all down so he could drift off, stopping himself from going to his deposit box and getting the gun... “She just made life feel right again. I don’t feel lonely and lost and unwanted and disposable, because I have her. I finally, actually have a family, someone to come home to! I’m important to her, and she’s important to me. More than important...”

          His temples felt hot as the tears he knew were futile to fight came pouring, winding down to the shell of his ears. He wish he could see her face then and there, the wide blue eyes he gave her looking at the world beyond her bassinette, sleepy yet curious. She was probably in the arms of her mother, now, because Peter could feel it in the leap in her and his chests. An innocent, sheltered joy only an infant could feel, the calm of being safe. Ba-ba-bump-bump. “She made life worth it again. She saved my life.”

Dr. Stieg broke so many rules in the short span that it took for Peter to sit up straight, watching his client reach for the box of tissue and clean his blotchy face. No showing emotions, or at least not extreme emotions; no reacting, no getting invested in his clients beyond what his job required. Yet, there he sat, mouth hung open, mind spinning, his body resisting, once again, the need to walk around this desk and hold Peter in his arms and let the man cry it out, be they tears of joy or sadness. 

         “Ah... wow,” Dr. Stieg managed, even if it was still the wrong way to respond to a client. He blinked, snapped his jaw closed, and shook his head. “I... Congratulations, first of all. On everything. I am truly glad that you are... happy.” That did not feel like the right word at all, even if Peter was grinning ear to tear-stained ear.

         “Thank you,” Peter replied in a chuckle soft with an underlying sob. He pulled more sheets of tissue out and kept wiping his eyes that still filled with tears. “So, you can understand why I had to disappear for a bit. I had a full plate.”

           “Indeed, you did,” Dr. Stieg agreed, picking up his stylus and tapping his tablet awake. “So, er... let’s talk about your child, first of all. What is her name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

          That impossibly wide grin again.

--

He had to cut the tether, because if this session was going to go as all the others went, it was going to be a taxing hour of splitting himself open and scooping himself out on the table for Dr. Stieg to pick apart. And he didn’t want his child to feel drained; she’d need all the energy she could get. 

        As expected, Peter left the office with eyes sore and head pounding, knowing he’d look like a puffy, blotchy mess. He wondered if it was worth the trouble to skip to the bathroom and paint his face just a little, just enough so he wouldn’t go to the meeting looking like--

        Then came the buzzing of his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket, tapping open the message.

          [Ashira] The kids are hungry, so let’s meet up at the Lion’s Den.

          The leap in Peter’s chest could have lifted him off, send him drifting among clouds. He felt her reaching out and met her, wanting her to know that the joy was for her, that he was coming. Still, he gave the phone screen a private little half smirk.

          [Peter] Am I paying for lunch?

          [Ashira] If you don’t mind. They miss you a lot, by the way.

          [Peter] Miss them, too. On my way.

          The makeup could wait.

--

          It was such an odd place to meet up, this eatery ran by the students of his alma mater. How long has it been since he last came here? Long enough that, despite this place feeling like a third home for him, it still made his chest ache with a numbing mixture of pride and nostalgia as he spotted the renovations: the bigger stage, the new artwork, the newer models of industrial coffee makers ran by baby-faced freshmen. Gazing around, Peter spotted one of the few things the eatery kept: the bulletin board, the one that once held the flier to the musical he’d once acted in before, the one he starred in with--

        Peter inhaled, let it out slowly. It won’t stop hurting, Dr. Stieg told him. It’ll just stop hurting so much, and you’ll live.

         Peter turned his eyes away from the bulletin board, now looking like the back end of a pinata with its layers and layers of fliers and business cards, and scanned the crowd around him, the tables of dates leaning close to each other, of students hunched over tablets and textbooks, study groups exchanging notes, the guest performer of the day tuning her guitar. Peter started to pull his phone out, ready to text Ashira to ask where the hell was she, but he spotted a couple bouncing balls of energy charging at him before he heard the squeaking calls of, “Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter!”

        “Heeeey, you two!” Peter shoved his phone back into his pocket and dropped to his knees, arms held open and smile just as wide as Pakiza leapt into him, Hasan toddling closely after and tumbling into his other arm. Peter squeezed them close and planted a kiss on each of their heads. “Aww, I’ve missed you guys so much! Oh, my goodness, you guys are getting so big!”

          “Uncle Peter, guess what?!” Pakiza chirped. She craned her neck back and gave him her cheekiest grin, and poked a finger at one of her front teeth. Peter watched as the tooth jiggled in place.

        “Ooooh, someone’s losing a baby tooth already?” Peter gently took her chin. “You better put it under the pillow when it falls out! Get some money for that new bike you want!”

          “Don’t teach her that nonsense, Pete.”

          Don’t ever change, Peter snarked in his head, taking a gentle breath to calm his nerves. He followed the familiar voice up past his niece and nephew. He spotted the woman making her way across the café, but he wasn’t looking at her. He slow rose, gaze held by the gentle tuft of black hair, tiny head latched onto Ashira’s bare, heavy breast. He placed a hand on Pakiza’s shoulder, took Hasan’s outstretched hand in the other, and led the two to their mothers, eyes kept on the tiny bundle of joy in the arms of the woman that he should hate, but--

          Ba-ba-bump-bump. Ba-ba-bump-bump.

          He stepped up to Ashira’s side, peeking past her shoulder.

          She must have known that her father was there, as Peter could feel the delight through the tether. Still, she sleep, or at least kept her eyes closed, letting out tiny grunts and huffs after every few pulls of milk. Good noises, relieving noises, noises that meant that her lungs were stronger. When Peter reached up from behind her to take her tiny hand, that hand that was getting chubbier and wasn’t so tragically tiny and wrinkly anymore, her eyelids finally opened. 

         Large, sky-blue doe eyes bright with life, that she got from her daddy. She took Peter’s finger and held it tightly, and smiled and cooed around Ashira’s nipple, gurgling milk that dripped from the side of her mouth. 

          Ba-ba-bump-bump. Ba-ba-bump-bump.            Ba-ba-bump-bump. Ba-ba-bump-bump.

          Peter let out a gentle chuckle, resting his chin on the shoulder of the woman who he could never truly hate, not when she gave him this.

         “Hey, there, Sadaf,” Peter cooed back. “I’ve missed you!”

[unhinged-summer-fun]

Joel/infected #1

Y’all’s dogshit takes on Joel/Tess are dogshit

This is a warning headshot

Proceed at your own risk you fucking weirdos, it’s dead fucking dove

They were soft, Joel realized. He never knew they’d be soft. The vines had trapped him in a hold he’d been unable to break free from, tightening more with each second he struggled. He let out a soft noise of protest as he felt his jeans shred away from his thighs, exposing himself to the chill autumn air. He kept his mouth closed, for as long as he could.

He had a feeling even that notion was a sinking ship he refused to acknowledge.

He was brought back by the touch of clammy, blood soaked fingertips belonging to whatever person that thing once was above him. It had legs, once. Hell, so did he. Ten minutes ago he would have felt it. But now, he only felt the tiny scratches of jagged fingernails into his thighs, the pulsing ooze of his own blood slicking the way, the traitorous thickening of his own cock to being touched.

Delirium, he told himself as shame rose in time with bile, as boats on a wave. There’s something delirious about me. I’m going to die and my dick has jumped ship to at least ease my passing.

But those soft little tendrils from the not-a-person’s mouth only extended, a hand reaching to help, curling like a smile, soft and warm, oh god were they warm, and then they were around him and in him—

Joel hardly had time for his own hand, pre-outbreak, he didn’t have money to waste on a computer or pay-per-view porn or even skin mags. In those twenty years he hardly got it up, between the booze and drugs and age and depression and his mouth knowing the taste of the end of his gun too many times to count. He didn’t know the name for… this, he couldn’t recall the name his mother had given him by this point.

All he knew was that the tendrils were latching, deep deep inside him, into his balls by this point, and the mouth that should have been revolting and afeared was starting to feel the way he used to feel when he’d see family. It felt warm, welcomed, felt like a damned hug back when he was the kind of man to accept one. He looked into eyes long-cataracted and saw relief and, impossibly, understanding. He saw someone there, waiting.

And as he came, the darkness did as well.

…

You groaned and threw the controller at the wall. It didn’t even hit, which was a good representation of your own aim in-game.

“Joel you piece of shit! Did you see that? He just blew himself up!”

“But you equipped the—”

“I was telling him. Shoot the gun at the zombie! At! The!! Zombie! Not the wall! Why do you reach so fucking high for things on a counter, it’s like you’re waving at them to come over you stupid fuck! God!”

“Maybe you should—”

“No,” you growled. “Again.”

“I just don’t see why you’re getting so upset over—”

“No. There has to be a deeper reason to why it’s going this way. There has to be. I’m unable to enjoy any piece of media without making myself look like the media analysis monarch because if I reduce myself in rank to the level of audience member I’ll fucking explode.”

It was profound and simple, but you had yet to do anything to change yourself. You reloaded the game.

…

Joel focused on his surroundings. “Stay low,” he murmured, feeling as though he’d said it three dozen times before.

[fanfictiongirlie]

5SOS: He Leaves Without Knowing You’re Pregnant

Parings: Ashton x you

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: My 5sos imagines were all written, maybe ten years ago, the writing standard isn't what my writing is like now. Bare that in mind please. Cringe warning :)

Words: 817

“I can’t believe you cheated on me Y/N!” Ashton bellowed. The tears that were streaming from your eyes were now uncontrollable.

“Ashton! I would never cheat!” You scream, through your tears. No matter how many times you told him, he wouldn’t believe you.

You needed him to know you would never cheat; he couldn’t leave you like this.

“Well you did! I saw the pictures of you and that random guy!” Ashton yells.

“That was my friend Ashton!” You bark.

“You told me you were going to the doctors! And then I see pictures of you and a guy…” He stops “You know what. I’m gone!” He sneers and leaves the room… “No Ashton” You croak “I’m pregnant. I need you” You whimper, hoping he would hear. He didn’t.

He never did. No matter how many times you called him. He never answered. It just didn’t seem like there was much point anymore. But of course there was.

18 years later.

“Are you sure you want to do drum lessons?” You ask your 17 year old son. Of course he wanted to do drum lessons, he didn’t want to play guitar or bass or even the triangle.

It was all about drums. Obviously an Ashton trait.

“Please mum. I will never ask for anything ever again. Just let me do this!” Oliver pleaded. You sigh and nod. “Okay baby”

“Mum, don’t call me baby. I’m a not a baby” He groans. “No, but you are my baby” You smirk.

~#~#~#~

“Are you sure you want me to come with you?” You ask, hoping into your car, Oliver jumping into the passenger side.

“Yes mum. What if this guy is a creep?” He giggles, you nod and start driving to Oliver’s directions.

Until you parked in front of a very nice looking studio. Oliver hadn’t told you anything about this teacher, but he seemed excited to actually go drumming lessons.

Oliver had been telling you how he was in a band, and how this band was amazing. But when you asked what the band name was, Oliver replied with “You wouldn’t know them”

You followed your tall son into the building, you switched your phone on, and more interested in the phone then the drumming.

“Mum in here” Oliver said, pulling your arm. “Hello, you must be Oliver” A voice said… The voice shocked you, you were scared to look up, so scared. You knew that voice…

But you looked up, and your eyes met Ashton’s… “Is this your girlfriend?” Ashton asked, not taking his eyes away from yours. You cringed at the thought of someone thinking your son was your boyfriend.

You knew he remembered you… Just by the look on his face, he remembered.

“No dude. Ew, this is my mum” Oliver answered. Ashton looked a little stunned. Of course he would…

“Right, and how old are you?” Ashton asked. “I’m 17” Oliver answered making Ashton choke on the air slightly.

“Oliver, go sit on the drums” Ashton smiled and walked to you. “So you didn’t cheat Y/N?” He asked in a low voice.

You take a deep breath. “Nope. I didn’t, the guy in the photos with me, was a friend of my brothers, and he was taking me to the doctors because I was pregnant”

Ashton sighed and pulled you into his strong arms, you wanted to fight, but you didn’t. “I’m so sorry” He mumbled. You say nothing but carry n hugging him. You have missed him so much, and him hugging you was great. It made you feel safe and wanted. You had missed it so much.

“Dude, why are you hugging my mother?” Oliver asked, sounding very angry.

You smiled and walked to Oliver. “Oli, the thing is. Ashton and I used to go out… We actually broke up nearly 19 years ago” You explain.

“But that would mean Ashton is my dad?” Oliver asks, confused. You nod. “I’m sorry I never told you Oliver” You mumbled.

“Sorry? Why? My dad is in the coolest band ever!” Oliver smiles and runs to Ashton hugging him. Ashton looks a little stunned but opens his arms for a hug.

“Wait, why did you break up with my mum?” Oliver asks, pulling away from Ashton’s arms.

“I thought she cheated on me” Ashton says in shame. Oliver takes a deep breath.

“You didn’t mum?” He asks, not really wanting to know if his mother cheated on someone.

“Of course I didn’t silly. I loved Ashton” You answer, with full honestly.

“Loved” Ashton mumbled. You look at him. “What?”

“You said you ‘loved’ me” Ashton repeats. “Ashton” You say moving closer “I still love you”

Ashton beams and kisses you. “No kissing in front of me!” Oliver yells.

“Can I meet the rest of the band?” Oliver asks, hopeful. “Course you can son” Ashton smiles “But first, my son needs to know how to play drums”

[fuckzachariah]

Thankfully, Zach had conveniently forgotten to travel with a black tie ensemble, and so Kylie was somewhat helpless in her endeavor to dress him like someone he didn’t know and didn’t think he liked. He had appreciated the shield before. When he hadn’t yet found his footing in this iteration of his life, and he still needed a veil to hide behind. Now, he knew what he wanted and what he didn’t; he wanted Kylie, but not at the expense of his identity. Despite the glitz and glamor decorating his last decade of life, those thirteen years of ruddy elbows and hand-me-down band t-shirts from his mother’s flings and older local boys had not washed out. They persisted like an oil stain to linen. But a compromise had been met; though he was clad in pressed black slacks and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, the gilded Versace buttons were unfastened to his mid chest, ensuring the sprawl of tattoos bursting up from the open lapels were entirely visible, along with his chosen chain to match Kylie’s diamond choker dangling in the mess of ink.

He pushed his hair back from his face, neater than he had left it for the better part of six months but still longer than his classic image, and from the base of his throat pulsed his old favorite scent, Tom Ford Tuscan Leather. Kylie appeared behind him in the mirror in her blue silk dress, the material flowing from her figure like water, half her long hair tied back in a matching bow. She caught his eye in their reflection and her face changed into impossible innocence; her bright, wide smile breaking open like a chip in a jewel, sapphire eyes disappearing into a graceless scrunch, cheeks tipped pink. It still stopped him in his tracks, sometimes; how she appeared to him like a sprite, how they appeared beside one another like light and dark. “Do you remember on our first date, when I was so anxious I couldn’t eat, and I kept regurgitating lines from Toy Story because I thought you didn’t believe me when I said I’d seen it more than 50 times?” Zach’s lip twitched, mindful of her, quietly amused. “I do.” She came up behind him, arms encircling his torso, nails lightly scoring the exposed hilt of his chest. “Well, I don’t feel like that at all right now.”

Zach squinted at her, chewing on a laugh. “What a shame.” Her fingers splayed out over his chest and he trapped her wrist to stop her, head tilting. “I’m saying. Even though this sort of feels like it has all the implications and weight of a first date, I’m not scared. ‘Cus you roughed me up ‘till I got brave. And now I’m very brave. And famous.” She jumped away from him, clapping once in finality. “You see?” He pivoted, snaking a firm arm around her waist and lifting until her white platforms were swept from the floor and she yelped in fear. “No. You’re still on some pussy shit.” She pounded into his arm until he dropped her, laughing. “Don’t we have to leave, like, immediately?” Kylie looked at her phone and gasped, shackling his wrist in her paw and her purse in the other as she charged them to the door. “The car has been waiting for ten minutes! Why didn’t you say something!” He followed with a slow but wide gait, shaking his head. “Oh, this dinner is my whole thing now. Got it.” She glanced back at him, grin glinting in the light. “You are so irresponsible.”

The drive to Tribeca was relatively quick, despite traffic. A deep evening hue, a full and expectant orange, drooped low over the skyline. It melted down skyscrapers like poured syrup. A feeling rumbled faintly in his gut; anticipation. Though it was true this dinner wasn’t for him, it would be the first time he and Andrew had met since their first, close to a year ago. The diamond-press of his impending career revival was starting to shape him out; his edges hardening, his surface crystallizing, his worth skyrocketing. The driver informed them they were encroaching on Andrew’s building, and when Zach peered out, he saw the tip of the luxury high rise tickling the sky’s underbelly. Likely, that tip was exactly where they were headed. He spent so little time in apartment buildings - the last had been Alex’s. His stomach flitted. “Oh,” Kylie caught his attention. “His girlfriend is going to be here, too, I’m pretty sure. They invited me together. I forget her name - fuck… What was it?” Zach peered at her, curious as to why it mattered. “She’s incredibly hot, okay? No staring.” Her finger wagged, and he laughed. “I gave up hot girls for Lent. Two years ago.” She nodded sagely. “My apologies. I should make more of an effort to observe your religious practices.”

They approached the building between two flanking security guards, though it seemed Andrew had seen to their discretion beforehand. No fans crowded the sidewalk, and they passed from the car to the lobby peacefully, if for a few double takes. Meeting them at the door was a well-dressed man in his early fifties with a hard brow and overcrowded teeth, smiling cordially and bowing his head. “Welcome, Ms French. Mr Winthrop. My name is Tony. Andrew is so pleased to have you. If you’ll follow me.” He lead them to the elevator. Inside, it seemed there were only two buttons; first floor, and penthouse. Zach made a face at Kylie behind the man’s shoulder, mouthing, “Fancy.” She parodied a small curtsy. “Andrew just ran out on a quick errand - the champagne?” He glanced at Kylie, who nodded in understanding. “But his partner will be here to greet you while you wait. He won’t be long, he has assured me.” The ride to the thirtieth floor seemed impossibly long, but eventually, the elevator sang out its Ding! and the doors parted. In a hurry, Andrew appeared immediately before them, as though having himself arrived seconds before they had. “Kylie, Zach, welcome. Please, come in.” Kylie went first with the doorman, and Zach followed shortly after, his gaze dancing around the opulent penthouse space; the high ceilings, incredible city views, and impossible cleanliness of the luxe interior. Then, his gaze dropped to shake Andrew’s hand. His entire body stuttered, his heart falling to a hard stop and down into his stomach. What he saw standing beside his host made the whole world come to a screeching halt. Zach’s hand hung uselessly in a half-stance, the greeting stolen from his throat in a peculiar, audible stutter. “Kylie, you’ve met Alex. Zach, I’d like to introduce you-”

“I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Brooke,” she hollered while stepping out of the cozy warmth of her Upper East Side dance studio and into the brisk cold. It instantly nipped at her, despite the layers of clothing she had wrapped herself in. Although she held a deep affection for New York City, the weather was not one of its charms. Moments like these triggered a longing for home, where the climate was consistently warm and sunny. The thought of escaping the harsh winter to spend a few days at her father’s sprawling Malibu estate crossed her mind. There was nothing holding her back from it – except the memories. Alexandra nestled into her cashmere scarf, its soft pink fabric now veiling her mouth and nose, as she embarked on the short walk back home. Speaking of memories. Her mind drifted to the impending dinner with Kylie French and her manager, a commitment Andrew had emphasize throughout the week. Unbeknownst to him, forgetting was not an option for her. In fact, she had been thinking about it ever since he first proposed it in the café lounge at the Ritz Carlton that day. While she managed the unexpected encounter with Kylie well, the discomfort it stirred within her refused to fade. Would it ever? Meeting her brought a stark reality to a situation she had sidestepped for years. It was no longer a matter of if, but rather when. The catalyst for this inevitable reunion being the petite, five-foot-something blonde with a remarkable set of pipes.

Her memory retained every detail with photographic precision. The captivating hue of her pretty blue eyes, the contour of her lips as they wrapped around her words. Despite being aware of the self-inflicted torment, she couldn’t help but indulge in thoughts of how those lips might appear wrapped around other things. The mental image churned her stomach. Much like the indelible memories, her jealousy seemed immune to dissolution as well. She acknowledged her contentment with Andrew, finding fulfillment in every conceivable way with a man who was effortlessly lovable. The attempts to piece together the fragments of her relationship with Zach had proven futile, time and time again. So, why did it still matter he chose to be with? Shaking off the intrusive thoughts, she reminded herself that tonight was the only hurdle she needed to clear. Concerns about the unresolved issues with Zach could be pushed aside until morning, undoubtedly a problem that would stubbornly remain there. Rounding the corner, she raised her small face from the shelter of her scarf to greet the doorman, Tony, with a warm smile. “Hi, Tony.” He reciprocated the gesture, opening the large, gilded door for her. “Evening, Miss Burton. Have a good one.” She nodded her head almost imperceptibly in acknowledged as she stepped into the lobby. Navigating towards the elevator, she eased the gloves from her small fingers and pressed the upward arrow.

Alex was grateful for the limited responsibilities tonight. Andrew, taking the lead, ensured that the apartment underwent a thorough cleaning, leaving no corner untouched. The fine China and silverware were delicately taken from their cupboard, receiving meticulous polishing and shining in preparation for the occasion. He also went the extra mile by hiring a chef, assuring her it was because he did not want to burden her with the task when in reality, he was concerned that she may accidentally char their meal. All she had to do was an exude an aura of approachability and warmth for Kylie. Andrew seemed puzzle by her apparent lack of enthusiasm, presuming that their proximity in age might spark a friendship. Perhaps, she considered. Yet, Kylie’s effervescent personality stood in contrast to hers – they were like day and night. Then again, opposites do attract. If not for their shared history with Zach, maybe they could have found common ground. Entering the apartment, she was greeted by the enticing aroma of fresh garlic wafting the from the kitchen stove. Andrew was unable to extract a definitive dinner preference from Kylie and had opted for the safe choices of chicken alfredo and penne a la vodka. The fine selection extended to the best wine and champagne to complement the meal, recognizing the significance of the evening. Classic rock tunes filled the air, courtesy of his favorite Spotify playlist. The anticipation emanated from somewhere within the apartment, hinting at his excitement.

She shed her coat, revealing her ballet attire, and moved through the living room and toward his study, where she discovered him engrossed with his computer. “Baby,” she called out softly. Andrew swiveled in his chair, peering over the top of his black Prada glasses. An immediate smile lit up his face as he stood to offer her a proper welcome. “There’s my girl.” He approached her, his deep blue eyes scanning her from head to toe, seemingly appreciating her ensemble. “Don’t you look precious. No tutu?” he teased. Rolling her eyes at his playful comment, Ale enveloped him in a hug, her arms securely wrapped around his waist. She nuzzled her face against the center of his chest, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Mm. Sorry to disappointment. I’ve aged out of the tutus.” Andrew chuckled, planting a kiss on the top of her head, mindful not to disturb the perfectly fashioned bun she had crafted. “You’ll be catching up to me in no time.” She leaned back, gazing through her thick lashes with a smile, “Then what? You’ll replace me with a younger model?” He captured his lower lip between his teeth, feigning consideration. Alex’s mouth fell open, prepared to swat him in response. “I’m kidding. I can hardly keep up with you!” He gave her a final affectionate squeeze before releasing her, glancing down at his watch. “You better get ready. Dinner’s in about an hour.” She let out a soft sigh, tossing her head back in annoyance, “I know, I know. I’m going,” she uttered, making her way out of his study. She strolled to their bedroom for a quick shower, preparing herself for the evening ahead.

She transformed the act of getting ready into a spectacle, enjoying a glass of champagne while perfecting her hair and makeup, as was her usual ritual. Alexandra could sense her competitive spirit resurfacing as she approached her wardrobe, thumbing through a collection of recently acquired pieces. Settling on a black 90s vintage Dolce & Gabbana dress paired with sling-back Louboutin’s, she aimed for simplicity whilst maintaining her distinctive flair. Changing into her chosen outfit, Drew’s voice echoed from the living room, “Ale, I’ve got to run downstairs and grab the champagne. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

[saintwyfe]

heyy can i request a fluff with jude where you guys go on a date to winter wonderland and hes really clingy <3

࿐ ˚ . ✦ WINTER WONDERLAND. jude bellingham

summary. your first time coming to winter wonderland w jude.

warnings. none

word count. 1164

a warm smile spread across your face as you and your boyfriend of 6 months were on the way to winter wonderland together for the first time. you'd been wanting to go since you two first started dating, and it felt surreal to finally be able to live the experience you'd been looking forward to for so long. you two had been engaging in conversation about the rides you’d go on, but knowing him, he’d probably—no, definitely chicken out.

“when we get there, we have to ride the hangover. i’m not leaving until we go on it at least once.” he prompted, quickly glancing at you before focusing back at the road. “ehh, i remember seeing someone get sick right after getting off a few years ago, though. it still freaks me out thinking about it.” mentioning the story made you feel a little jittery, but you’d be willing to get on it, as long as it was with him.

“it can’t be that bad. maybe they had an easy stomach, but i don’t. it’ll be fun,” he claimed, resulting in your eyes rolling as you fixed your gaze in front of you, watching as he steered into the entrance. watching all the pretty, bright lights made you feel in awe. all the energetic people jumping around as they got off their rides gave you goosebumps. you already knew how fun this would be. 

he quickly turned into a parking spot before turning the engine off. you were quick to open the passenger seat door, but he quickly stopped you—"stop right there," he demanded, before running to your side of the car and reopening the door. "now you can exit," he chirped, bending his knees a bit too much to seem gentlemanly. you giggled before replying, "well, thank you."

you stepped out, quickly inhaling the air around you, nostalgic of the vivid environment. hearing the kids chase each other around and the rustling steel of the rollercoasters made you eager to ride the rollercoasters again after it had been closed for a year. you quickly turned around, hearing his footsteps dart toward you. "let’s race to the entry, yeah?" he announced before lunging toward the ticket machines. "jude, no," you cried, chasing after him, knowing full and well you weren’t as fast as him. "i swear, you’ll be the death of me." you muttered under your breath, trying to catch up to the tall figure. "can’t hear you back there!" jude exclaimed.

you eventually approached him while he paid for the tickets. "took you long enough." he giggled as you were merely out of breath. you shot him a glare before jokingly walking back to the parking lot. "wait, you know i was just kidding, baby," he said as he took your hands into his and laced them together. "oh, let’s go on that one first!" he shouted in excitement, his finger darting toward a big green rollercoaster with a sign next to it named the 'euro coaster' he gave no time for a response before jogging toward the attraction. you matched his pace, following him toward the bright sign.

he paid the vendor before awaiting the ride. thankfully, it was a tuesday, so it wasn’t that busy to where there’d be a ten-minute line for ride entry. he dragged his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in, while staring at the people screaming on the ride in amusement. “aren’t you excited?” he watched him in awe as you simply nodded.

the ride eventually came to a halt, with the group of people exiting, giddy from the experience. you watched as he quickly scurried toward the gate. you sat next to him, taking in the final moments before the exhilarating ride.

the intercoms came on, and the inspectors began to click the belts, and before you knew it, the tracks began to click. “maybe this wasn’t the best idea,” his voice began to tremble as the ride neared the top. he quickly intertwined your fingers together in fear before the ride quickly declined, resulting in screams from both of you. you looked over at him to see him terrified for the next steep dip, giggling at the sight. 

at the end of the ride, you clicked off your belt and exited the seat, jumping up in excitement. "that was fun, wasn’t it? you watched as he struggled to process what had happened. "we should probably go on the merry-go-round next." he audibly swallowed, earning a chuckle from you. "yeah, no," you said as you took his hand in yours and walked toward the next ride.

as much as you wished to go on the hangover, he refused, claiming that his “stomach hurt even looking at it.” so, you just opted to go on a less intense ride. still, he gripped your hand like there was no tomorrow and screamed like a baby during the steep drops.

after getting off, you suggested going to the carousel to take pictures together. he was insistent on the idea, which wasn’t surprising considering how shaky he was after the actual rollercoasters. you two traced toward the ride before hopping onto the seat, admiring the atmosphere around you once again. 

he held his arm around you as your cheek occupied his shoulder. “it’s so pretty out,” you whispered. he nodded in agreement, “not as pretty as you, though.” you shook your head, giggling at his reply. “you’re so corny.” 

you admired the view around you before you heard a sudden camera click and looked up at him with his phone out. “what are you doing?” you muttered, sitting up. “you look pretty,” he replied, looking at the pictures on his screen. you looked in the other direction to prevent him from taking more. “why are you looking away? i’m trying to compliment my beautiful girlfriend,” he giggled, eyes fixed on you. you felt your heart skip a beat from the praise. you slowly looked back at the staring boy who was flashing a smile at you.

he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before murmuring, “i’m so lucky.” you couldn’t help but flush at his exchange of words. you two gazed at each other for a while before he pecked your cheek, your giggles breaking the silence.

"i think i love you," he proclaimed. your eyebrows furrowed at the sudden speech. maybe he had the impression that the relationship wasn't that intense yet, apologizing quickly: "i mean—not to make you uncomfortable or anything." his words were interrupted by a prompt kiss. he paused before sinking into it.

you pulled away after a few seconds, looking into his soft, puppy dog eyes. “i love you, too, jude,” you confessed, slightly chuckling.

the carousel coincidentally came to a stop, and you two exited hand-in-hand. he led you out with a teethy smile plastered across his face. "ooh, is that a cocoa stand? i haven’t had one in forever," you said, dashing toward the concessions as he quickly followed.

[watchmegetobsessed]

BABY MAMA

A/N: woke up and just knew i needed to write about dad Harry, bc lets be honest, he is my fav. this fic is perfectly fine as a oneshot, but if you'd like, it could be a sequel to Grammy Winner Husband and Baby Grammy, i wrote things to line up with them!

PAIRING: Husband!Harry / Dad!Harry x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

masterlist

The arena is blowing up, the fans are screaming from the top of their lungs and Harry is putting out a show just as good as the previous ones have been. He is blowing the stage up, singing, dancing, joking around with the fans, enjoying this time he gets to spend with the people who got him to this point in his life. He’ll never be not grateful for what he has, what he is experiencing, no matter how hard this life can get sometimes.

“Dallas, how are you feeling tonight?” he asks in the mic as he walks back to his water bottle to have a few sips. The crowd erupts, the screams almost burst his eardrums, but he just chuckles, easing his thirst with some water before he returns to the microphone stand.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he teasingly asks, though the reaction is the same. Insane screaming. “Alright, let’s move this show on before you get bored,” he chuckles playfully, the band starts playing the next song and he is back at what he does the best. Performing.

Though not far from the arena, there’s someone who thinks there’s something he is even better at than performing. That person is you, and you’re one hundred percent sure Harry is best at being a father to your five months old son.

Owning the stage, putting out the utter best he can, Harry’s thoughts still wander away from the show he is supposed to be focusing on. He can’t help it, his instincts are just completely drawn to his baby in the hotel suit, dying to know how he is doing. Leaving for the show late afternoon was harder than usually, because baby Theo was having a fever and coughing quite badly. His heart was breaking that he couldn’t help his son, didn’t even know what could be done for such a tiny baby.

“Love, he’ll be alright, okay? The doctor is on the way, it’s gonna be fine,” you told him gently as he was cradling Theo to his naked chest, always so eager to be skin-to-skin with him. Harry kissed his soft little curls on top of his head before nodding, though you knew it was eating him away.

“Call me or Jeff if something happens, okay?” he told you, handing Theo over to you, who was finally asleep after fussing for hours.

“I will,” you nodded, but he cupped your face to make you look at him.

“Y/N, I mean it. I’ll come off the stage if—“

“You won’t come off the stage, Theo is gonna be fine, he just probably got a cold from the aircon at the greenroom in Denver. He’ll be here when you get back, okay?”

He knew this tone, this was your momma bear voice and he would never argue with you when you used it, so he just nodded, kissed you and then Theo’s chubby cheek before heading out.

Now as he is nearing the end of the show he can’t help but think about finally being back at the hotel with his wife and baby, though he won’t let it be seen how eager he is to get off the stage.

The last song passes, the whole arena blows up from the energy and he is throwing kisses everywhere as he heads off the stage, down the aisle that leads him backstage. As he puts on his mask he turns around one last time, throwing some more kisses around to his beloved fans before disappearing behind the curtains.

“Did she call?” he instantly asks Jeff instantly, who hands him his phone over, a text from you already waiting for him.

Doc just left, everything is fine, left some meds for bub. Love you Xx

Even though this is what you told him before too, he feels relieved that the doctor confirmed it, but he still can’t wait to see the two of you.

“Alright, get the car ready, I’m leaving in ten,” he tells Jeff.

“Got it,” he nods, not even daring to argue with him. He knows better than to stand between Harry and his baby.

His legs bounce nervously on his way back to the hotel and he jumps out of the car as if it was on fire, running inside in a rush. He swipes the keycard through the reader on the door and opens it quietly, scanning over the place for you and Theo and there you are, sitting in one of the armchairs with his sleeping son in your arms, your hand gently tapping on his bum. You must have just finished feeding him, because a rag is still thrown over your shoulder and your shirt is all wrinkled around your chest. Theo loves playing with the fabric while you breastfeeding him and Harry loves watching his tiny fingers grab onto it and massaging it aimlessly.

“Hey,” he breathes out, quietly pushing the door closed behind him before he walks over, kneeling in front of you. He kisses Theo’s forehead first, before pressing his lips to yours too. “How is bub feeling?”

“He is doing good. The doc gave him some meds for the fever and we have a syrup for the coughing. He said he’ll be fine in a few days,” you softly explain to him, nodding towards everything the doctor left you on the coffee table.

Harry grabs the bottles, inspecting them as if he knows anything about medicine and you can’t help but smile as he furrows his eyebrows, reading the packaging.

“Want to put him to bed?” you ask him, his head snapping up right away.

“Of course,” he nods eagerly. You both stand up and he carefully takes the little boy from your arms without waking him up. “Hey bubs, I missed you,” he coos at Theo and as you watch him sway with the sleeping baby, your heart could easily burst from just the sight of them.

You didn’t know what life would be like as a family of three. After Harry posted a picture of you with his Grammy award and your belly ready to pop, the whole world went crazy over the fact that Harry Styles is going to be a dad. Despite the buzz, you managed to stay hidden for the rest of your pregnancy and just three weeks after that post, Theodore Styles decided to come to the world. Harry cancelled everything for the first two months, it was just the three of you, showering in the joys of parenthood. You had all the ups and downs, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Then tour got rescheduled and Harry was hesitant whether it was a good idea to go on the road with a five months old.

“Sarah and Mitch are coming too, she gave birth a week after me,” you reasoned when Harry was about to cancel the whole tour. It took you some time to convince him that it’s gonna be fine, though you knew he would be extra cautious with Theo.

Now as you see him gently sway his way to the bassinet next to your bed, knowing that he just performed to thousands of people and now he is here with you and your son, you wouldn’t change it to some peace at home. Besides, you’re convinced tour is gonna do good for Theo, make him get used to people around him, not just the two of you or the grandparents and aunts. During the first night in Vegas, he barely spent an hour in your arms, everyone wanted a piece of him and you gladly let them befriend him, especially because he loves meeting new people, just like his daddy.

As Harry lays him into the bassinet and stands next to it with a lovesick smile on his face, you sneak behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smells so fresh, he surely had a quick shower before heading back to the hotel, but you’re already planning to seduce him to join you for a quick shower as well. He won’t say no.

“Watched a livestream for a bit, you were so good,” you hum, kissing his right shoulder blade and you don’t miss how he leans back against you. “Loved the shimmery outfit.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles softly. Reaching around, he pulls you forwards so he can wrap you in his arms, kissing your forehead gently. “I missed seeing you dance at the side,” he smirks at you and you don’t miss the reference to the old times.

On his first solo tour, when you weren’t even married yet he often caught you dancing like crazy at the side of the stage, it would always make him laugh mid-song and you loved hearing his giggles through the mic, so you often did it on purpose. A few nights ago in Vegas you did the same, but with Theo in your arms, a massive ear protector on his head so the noise didn’t hurt him. When Harry spotted you, he almost started crying, he mouthed I love youand then carried on with the show.

“I’ll be there soon,” you smile at him, cupping his face in your hands to pull him down for a kiss that’s more than just a peck. “Now, I need help with something,” you mumble against his lips.

“Anything, baby.”

“I need you to help me shower,” you tell him cheekily. He pulls back and stares down at you with a playful grin, his hands already wandering under your shirt.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, I need someone to wash my back and… maybe somewhere else,” you hum seductively and start pulling him towards the bathroom, peeking at Theo one last time, but he is sleeping so deep, the two of you can have some alone time.

“Alright, I could never deny anything from my favorite milf,” he grins, but you smack his chest with a gasp.

“Harry! I told you not to call me that!” you protest, the two of you walking into the bathroom not to bother the sleeping baby in the room. You start running the water right away so it can be nice and hot for you when you walk in.

“Why? You are a milf,” he smirks, so full of himself, already pulling his shirt over his head.

“Then you’re a dilf, just so you know.”

“Baby, my fans have been calling me that for years, even before Theo,” he chuckles softly.

“You were destined to be a dad,” you giggle, getting rid of your own clothes. “Hey, if Theo feels better tomorrow, we could maybe take a walk in that park we saw on the way here,” you suggest, but when no answer comes, you look at Harry and find him just standing there, fully naked, staring at you grinning widely. “What?” you ask, glancing down at your own naked body. Suddenly, you are way too aware of the weight you haven’t been able to lose after giving birth, the stretch marks on your waist and how you’re not at all freshly shaved. Just as you’d move your hands to cover yourself a bit, Harry grabs your wrists and stops you.

“You are so fucking gorgeous, baby,” he hums, dropping his head until his lips could reach yours.

“Stop being such a flirt,” you giggle, feeling your face heating up.

“It’s the truth! I have the prettiest baby mama and that’s a fact.”

He looks at you with so much love and adoration in those beautiful green eyes, it almost makes you cry, knowing that this man is your husband and you get to spend the rest of your life with him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you kiss him hard, pulling him into the spacious walk in shower.

“Then come and get your baby mama wet,” you giggle against his lips, making him laugh with the ambiguous request as he shuts the glass door behind him, his lips hungrily kissing wherever he can reach and you’re pretty sure the hot water is not the only thing that’s steaming up the glass.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!