#seriously though I was confused for half a minute

[mommyslittlebird]

What the Body Wants

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

Summary: Now that you’ve decided to stay home for good, Wanda decides to take a step further into her role as your mama. The side effects bring out parts of her you’ve never seen.

CW: Stepmom/stepdaughter, induced lactation, breeding, cum strap, ovulation, light choking, W wants a baby, R is lowkey a bad fuck, R is confused but enthusiastic

Word Count: ~5k

A/N: Writer is also confused but enthusiastic. I’m not entirely sure I did this right but I like how it turned out and I really loved the premise. I hope this lives up to the hype/the rest of the series!

Part 5 of Her Special Girl

———————————————————

Coming home actually turned out to be a bit of a better deal than you expected. You’d half prepared to be regretting your decision by now, longing for the dorm life and solitude that moving away had given you. But, in reality, that college had never really given what you had hoped it would, so it didn’t feel like you were leaving anything behind.

Home life had also improved in the years you went away. A new custody agreement between Wanda and her ex-husband meant the boys were gone every other week, and they had grown up enough to not be riding Wanda’s coattails like they had been when you left. Your father was still deadweight, but he fell asleep early and stayed at work late, so even he was only an issue on occasion.

Even though it was only a 15 minute drive to campus, you adjusted your schedule to only have in-person classes on Tuesday and Thursday so you didn’t have to go everyday. So you spent most days in the bay window of Wanda’s office with your laptop and a lap desk, silently working on classwork while she sat at her computer.

Since you’d decided to stay home 2 weeks ago, Wanda had started the process of induced lactation, a thing the two of you had discussed in the past. You couldn’t help but be fascinated by the process. She would sit down on the couch or in bed, and spend around ten minutes with the funny looking devices hooked up to her chest. She still had an electric pump from when she had the twins, and you love to watch in awe as the clear plastic methodically massaged your mama’s nipples. She’d simply be reading a book or watching TV, but your eyes never left her chest.

If you asked nicely, she would let you help her use the manual pump. It never failed to amuse her how seriously you took this task. You would straddle her lap, furrowing your brow and sticking out your tongue slightly in intense focus. You always made sure the cup was placed perfectly, and you watched her face to gauge her reaction as you started to squeeze the pump. You were so receptive to anything she told you, whether you needed to squeeze it a little bit more, or if you’d gone too far. You always felt so honored to be allowed to take part in the process.

Your favorite, though, was when she invited you to join. She always insisted that the best form of stimulation was your suckling. She would lay you across her lap, running her hands through your hair, telling you that you did it better than the machines ever could. You spent 10, sometimes even 20 minutes on each side longing to draw out the process for as long as possible. Occasionally, she’d let you suckle on one side while she hooked up the electric pump to the other. She seemed to get extra stimulated on those days, hardly able to sit still even with your full weight in her lap.

On this particular afternoon, the two of you were curled up on the couch watching one of Wanda's favorite movies. You thought it was a little boring, but you weren’t going to complain while you curled up in her lap, securely wrapped in a soft blanket. The boys were at their dad’s house, your dad was at work and wouldn’t be home for several hours, and Wanda didn’t have any meetings this afternoon, so you didn’t have to worry about getting caught.

You wiggled around a little, trying to get comfortable, and you accidentally pushed your shoulder into Wanda’s chest.

She winced and sucked on her teeth. “Careful baby,” she whispered. “Mama’s a little sore.”

“Sorry, mama,” you apologized, turning to face her while carefully avoiding hitting her again. She took her breast in her hand, gently massaging it to ease the tension. You could see through gritted teeth how sore she was. You wanted to help her in any way possible. “Do you need a massage?” You asked innocently.

She perked up a little bit, intrigued by the offer. “Do you wanna give mama’s breast a gentle little massage?”

You nodded, and she slipped her shirt off over her head, revealing her chest. You could’ve sworn it was growing, though not so much she couldn’t hide it with baggy clothes. She took your hand in hers and slowly raised it to her breast. She could see you were nervous. You didn’t want to hurt her.

“It’s okay baby,” she reassured you. “You aren’t gonna hurt mama.”

You bit your lip, determined to do a good job and ease her pain. She was doing this for you, after all. You cautiously massaged the skin with your fingers, working your way carefully around her chest.

“Mmm,” Wanda hummed, throwing her head over the back of the couch. You could see her chewing the inside of her cheek, breathing shakily through her nose.

“Is this okay, mama?” you ask, concerned. “Do you need me to stop?”

“No, sweet girl,” she assured. “Don’t stop, just a tiny bit harder�� ahh. You’re doing such a good job making sure your mama is all taken care of.”

“Mama?” you asked nervously.

“Yes, sweet girl?” she responded breathily.

“Is it hurting your body? To try and make milk for me?”

Wanda sat up straighter and cupped your soft, worried cheek. “Aww, sweetheart. You’re not hurting mama, baby. Mama is doing this because she wants to. And it doesn’t hurt so much as it’s just sensitive.” She stroked your cheekbone with her thumb, noticing how worried you still seemed to be. “Can mama tell you a secret baby?”

You nodded and leaned in, pressing your ear to her lips even though you were the only two people in the room.

Wanda dropped her voice to a whisper, playing along with your overly stealthy approach. “Mama’s body is reacting like this because all this pumping is making it want a baby.”

She took your hand, sliding it down her body and into the front of her pants. You nearly gasped as you felt through her thin underwear just how soaked she was. You pressed lightly into the wet patch, sliding two fingers up her slit through the fabric. She inhaled sharply, already grinding up against your hand. “It’s so sensitive, baby.”

She pulled back, gauging your reaction. There was a glint of recognition in your eyes. You were familiar with this sensation.

—----------

You stood in the doorway of her office, anxious and sweating. Your body felt it was on fire, tingling from your fingertips all the way down to your toes. You typically had a decently high sex drive, but you couldn’t remember a time when you’d ever felt this needy. It would have been easy enough to go to your room and masterbate, solve the problem on your own, but you wanted more. You wanted Wanda.

“Mama?”

Wanda turned her office chair to meet you. “Yes, sweet girl? What can I help you with?” She opened her arms, signaling you to come in.

You sat down in her lap and laid your head against her shoulder. She cradled the back of your head, stroking your hair softly with her thumb.

You hadn’t exactly planned to press your lips to her neck, to gently suck at the skin under her ear, but you were so hot, and her skin looked so soft, and you were so close, and she smelled so nice. And god, the taste, the sound you drew from her lips, the warmth of her skin. You needed her so badly. You slid your hand under the hem of her shirt, sliding your palm across her warm stomach.

“Sweetheart?” she said in a warning tone, using her hand to gently pull you from her neck. “What are you doing?”

She looked down, finding your eyes already glazed over with lust. You were hot to the touch, and just the simple tug of your hair pulled a low moan from your throat. “I need you, mama….”

She swallowed hard. It took a herculean amount of strength not to throw you over her desk and take you right there. If she hadn’t been a tad concerned that you had lost your mind, she would have. “Baby…” she asked. “What’s going on? Talk to mama.”

Your eyes looked into hers, pleading for more. Anything to take away the aching from between your legs. “It… I feel… It’s all so tingly. Everywhere. It… it hurts mama.” You were practically begging her to rip your clothes off and fuck you senseless.

“Ahh,” she hummed in recognition. “It’s that time of the month, is it?”

You furrowed your brow, confused. “What? No. My period was last week.”

“So your ovulation is this week,” she posited, smiling devilishly. “I’ll have to start keeping track of it, if it’s hitting you this hard.”

You groaned and buried your face into her shoulder while your hips bucked against her lap for any source of friction. You didn’t exactly know what ovulation was or what it had to do with you being so unbearably horny, but you weren’t exactly in the mood for an anatomy lesson.

Wanda kissed your head sympathetically and rubbed gentle circles on to the small of your back. “I’m so sorry, little love. Mama will take care of you in just a minute, just let me email Tasha and let her know I’m taking a long lunch.”

Thankfully, Wanda was true to her word, wrapping up her things rather quickly and carrying you to the bedroom. Your body hummed with electricity as she gently undressed you, making sure to egg you on with wet kisses and random hickies placed sporadically across your skin. You nearly jumped off the bed when she finally touched you, running a single digit up your folds and standing back to admire the results.

“Oh sweet girl, look at this,” she purred, holding her fingers in front of your face, covered in your excitement. As disinterested as you were in anything other than her hands and mouth on your body, you were admittedly a bit curious as to why it looked so different. What was usually a thin, clear liquid was now thick and white. She brought the fingers to your lips and you obediently took them into your mouth. “Do you know why it looks like that, sweetheart?”

You shook your head, quietly moaning at your own taste.

She leaned forward, whispering into your ear. “It’s because your body wants mama to give you babies.”

Just the raspy way the words left her mouth sent your hips flying off the mattress in a jolt of arousal. She stilled them with her hands, moving to kneel between your legs.

You had always had a pretty strong preference for missionary. You like to wrap your arms around Wanda’s waist and bury your face in her neck to stifle any sounds that she pulled out of you. This time, however, Wanda grabbed your legs and pushed your knees to your chest, gripping your thighs just below the underside of your knee.

You whined, feeling too far away from her, but she bent forward and kissed your head. “Shshsh. It’s okay sweet girl. Mama’s got you.”

You almost wanted to protest, but as soon as the tip of the toy hit your skin, any objections melted away. It was bigger than the toys you typically used, but you were so soaked the first four inches still slid in with ease. Your body momentarily seized and you breathed out a straggled moan.

Wanda took it slow at first, leaning forward to kiss your face and whisper words of encouragement as she gently eased the toy deeper and deeper with each thrust. “That’s it. That’s my pretty girl,” she cooed. “You look so pretty stretched out around mama’s cock, baby. Does it feel good? Is this just what you needed from mama?”

“Uh huh,” you moaned, eyes already starting to roll backwards. Your face flushed red when you realized you had nothing to cover your mouth with, leaving you squeaking and whining uncontrollably with each thrust.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream as Wanda bottomed out. You quickly realized the reason Wanda had you folded over like this: the strap could go impossibly deep, stretching you out in ways you’d never felt before. It was like she was kissing your womb with every stroke.

She groaned, slowly but firmly thrusting in as far as she could and holding it there before pulling back again. “Look at you, honey. Mama’s got you nice and ready. Are you gonna be a good girl for mama and let me give your body what it needs? Are you gonna let mama give you her babies?”

You bit down hard on your lip. You didn’t really understand what she was talking about. She couldn’t actually get you pregnant, but you did not care. You nodded eagerly, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “Mhm.”

“Say it for me. Tell me you want mama to fill you with her babies,” she commanded gently, continuing her slow and careful thrusts.

“I want… I want your babies mama. Please. Please mama I want you inside me forever,” you whined. Still you didn’t exactly understand what you were begging for, but the glare in her eyes told you that must have done the trick.

She leaned forward, pressing her whole body against yours and pinning you to the mattress. Your feet went up over her shoulders, keeping you trapped in the position even as her hands moved from your legs to the mattress. What had previously been slow, shallow strokes turned into faster, brutal thrusts. She pulled the toy nearly completely out of you before slamming it all the way back in. Her hips met yours in a merciless rhythm that left you shaking.

“Fuck! Mama… Mama!” You screamed, trying to reach out and grab her, but unable to get your hands out from under your legs. “Mama… I love you. I love you mama.”

“I love you too, sweet girl,” she said, nearly grunting with the intensity of her movement.

There was a shift that happened sometimes, when things got particularly intense between the two of you. It was like the slipping of a mask, but not in a scary or malicious way. Just Wanda so brutally intoxicated with you that she lost control. Her eyes narrowed and her face hardened. Her breaths came more as grunts than light moans. Her grip on you tightened into something more possessive and domineering. It never failed to drive you crazy.

“Fuck,” she growled, leaning back and moving her hand to your throat. “I’m gonna breed you. I’m going to keep filling you up until you can’t do anything but lay here and wait for me to come back and fill you up again. I’m gonna keep you leaking with my cum until this sweet little belly is all nice and swollen. Would you like that, angel? Do you want mama to keep you nice and full?”

“Yes mama!” you cried. “Please… please mama. Mama I’m gonna cum for you. Please cum inside of me mama. Please cum in…” you were cut short by an orgasm tearing through your body, leaving you speechless and dumb.

Wanda did not let up, continuing to chase her own pleasure. You tried to speak, but you couldn’t get out anymore than incoherent babbles. Wanda grabbed the vibrator she had given you earlier from your hand, turning it on and holding it to your clit. You writhed underneath her, jerking and spasming off the mattress, but she held you firmly in place.

Neither of you could do anymore than whimper or squeak. The only sound in the room was her hips hitting yours and the low thrum of the vibrator.

She let go of your throat, leaning forward again so she could kiss your face. “You're so beautiful, angel. And you feel so good on mama’s cock.” She turned up the setting on the vibrator, burying herself inside of you as deep as she could go. She could feel the vibrations against her own clit now. “Oh angel, mama’s gonna cum inside of you. Mama’s gonna fill you up and give your body everything it wants.” She squeezed the strap as she came, filling you with a warm, thick liquid unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

Wanda slowly pulled out, and gently guided your legs down to a more natural and comfortable position.

You shuttered as you felt the liquid leak out of you and drip down the crack of your ass. You furrowed your brow in confusion. “Mama…” you whined. You were so exhausted you couldn’t do anything but turn your head to look at her.

“Yes, little love?” She said, leaning forward to gently wipe the stray hairs from your sweaty forehead.

“What was that?” You asked breathlessly. “Feels funny…”

“Mama just came inside of you, sweet girl,” she explained quietly, bending down to kiss your head.

“It’s so… warm,” you noted, rolling your head to the side. Your nose pinched uncomfortably as you felt the thick liquid dripping down onto the bed sheets.

Wanda reached her hand back down between your legs, collecting the cum on her fingers and pushing it back inside of you. You whined.

“Shshsh angel,” she cooed. “Mama’s just making sure you stay nice and full, sweetheart. You remember what we talked about, yes? That’s why you’ve been so needy for mama all afternoon. This is what your body wants.”

When she was satisfied, she discarded the strap and laid down behind you, putting her arms under yours and methodically rubbing your stomach. She imagined your stomach swelling with life you created together. What a beautiful display that would be, of your love for each other. She moved your hair aside so she could kiss the back of your neck and the spot up under your ears.

You laced your fingers in hers, resting them just below your navel. “Do you really have to go back to work, mama?” You couldn’t handle it if she left you in here alone, all sweaty and still leaking cum. Surely she would at least carry you to the bathroom, maybe run you a bath and get you cleaned up.

Wanda chuckled and kissed your shoulder blade. “I think Tasha can handle it on her own.” She pulled you closer, rubbing her cheek against your shoulder. She wasn’t exactly sure how she would explain this to her coworker in the morning, but she would be sure to start taking a day off around the same time every month.

—---------

“You want me to…” you asked nervously, but even the idea made your pupils dilate. You had never used that particular strap inside of her. She’d only ever used it on you. It was honestly still a mystery to you, how the thing worked.

Wanda bit her lip and nodded, pulling your hand from her pants. “I mean, only if you-”

“I do!” you interrupted.

She raised her brows and opened her mouth like she was getting ready to chastise you for interrupting, but when she saw the eager, innocent excitement in your eyes, she just sighed. “Okay angel. Let’s go up to your room.”

You practically jumped up off of the couch and raced upstairs, grabbing the strap and shedding your clothes before she could even make it up the stairs. She merely chuckled at your overeager behavior, casually stripping off her own clothes while you fiddled with the harness.

She sat down naked on the end of the bed, helping you secure it around your waist. She pulled at the straps you had already managed to get twisted and tangled, adjusting and tightening it to your body. “Is that too tight?”

You shook your head, waving your hips back and forth to make sure it was snug.

She led your hand to a bulge at the base of the toy. “Now when you’re ready, you’re gonna squeeze right here, okay?”

You nodded, feeling the unfamiliar shape with the pads of your fingers.

Wanda scooted backwards until her head hit the pillows. You followed, crawling on your knees until you were nestled comfortably between her legs.

You were always a little awkward, trying to get the toy in. Luckily Wanda was right there to help. She eased the tip in herself, biting her lip to contain a moan as she did so. “Okay now remember, just start nice and slow.”

You leaned over her, putting your hand against the mattress on either side of her. You stuck your tongue out slightly in concentration, trying to focus on finding a good movement. If you were being honest, you were never particularly good at this part either. But what you lacked in skill, you made up for in determination. You found a slow, and slightly awkward, but steady rhythm.

Wanda hummed delightedly, pulling you down against her. “Mmm… that’s it angel. Nice and slow. Give mama some time to adjust.”

As you continued your easy, slow ministrations, you found yourself being able to go deeper with each stroke. It was only a minute or two before you were all the way inside. If you weren’t actually trying to make her cum, you might just stay like that forever, deep inside of Wanda, feeling her body clench and pulse around you. It felt so natural. More natural to you than anything else in the world. Your bodies fit together like perfect puzzle pieces.

You took the opportunity to crane your neck downward and trace your tongue over her sensitive nipples. She gasped, squeezing her eyes closed and burying her hands in your hair. You sucked the hardened bud into your mouth and gently flicked it with the point of your tongue. Her body was taut like a bowstring, hardly moving under you aside from a few swallow gasps. You moved to the other side, gently circling the exposed one nipple with your fingertip while you did the same with your tongue on the other.

“Keep going, baby,” she panted, arching her chest up into you. She reached one of her hands down to play with her clit. “That feels so good. Mama is so sensitive for you. Mama’s body knows you’re her baby.”

You moaned at her words, your mouth and fingers doubling down. Her body shuttered and you felt her start to pulse around the strap. You felt a surge of warmth pool between her legs. You pulled your head up to look her in the eyes. “Did you just…”

She nodded and chuckled a little bit. “I told you I was sensitive.”

Your eyes went wide. You had never made her cum so fast. But a certain pride swelled up in your chest as you watched her body react to what you were doing. You gained a bit of confidence: enough to start rolling your hips in a steady motion against hers.

The smug chuckle immediately stopped as the strap started to scrap her sensitive walls. The toy was traced with vein-like bumps that scratched at that special spot inside of her. Her hands shot up and wrapped around your back, clawing gently at your shoulder blades and the length of your spine. “Ah!” she squeaked in pleasant surprise. You’d never quite taken initiative like this before. “Good girl. You're making mama feel so good. Keep going, just like that.”

She wrapped her legs around your waist, keeping your thrusts shallow and deep. “Oh god. I want to feel your cum inside of me, angel. You’re gonna make mama feel so full and happy. Tell me you want to cum inside me, sweet girl.”

“I wanna cum inside you mama. I wanna make you feel so full and… and happy. I’m gonna do such a good job for you mama. I promise,” you stammer. The sounds she was making were music to your ears. Her heels dug into your thighs in tandem with her nails on your back. She was everywhere, surrounding you in every way possible. You looked down between her legs, watching the strap slide in and out of her pussy. That was your cock inside of her.

Suddenly, as if it were some trick of your brain, you could feel it, warm and wet, drawing you in again and again. She wanted you to cum inside of her. You wanted to cum inside of her. You wrapped your arms around her back, pulling her slightly up off the mattress as you started to go faster. You buried your face into her neck, muffling your noises.

“Oh fuck,” Wanda panted, bury her hand in your hair. She cradled your head just over her shoulder. “Fuck… you would give me such beautiful babies.”

You whimpered and rutted into her so hard and fast she nearly hit her head on the headboard. She smiled breathlessly. Clearly she got you riled up.

“Did that make you happy? The idea of giving mama a baby?” She asked, turning her head so she was only inches away from your ear.

You whined and nodded, rutting into her again. This time she let out a deep, satisfied moan as she felt the tip of the toy kiss her cervix. “You want to put a baby inside of mama?”

You knew it wasn’t possible, of course. Wanda couldn’t have any more children, and even if she could you certainly couldn’t get her pregnant. Still, the idea tickled your brain in all the best ways. It would be a part of you inside of Wanda. You nodded eagerly, biting your lip. “Mhm.”

You wrapped yourself even tighter around her waist thrusting your hips into her with a new determination. “I wanna hear you say it baby…” she gasped. “Tell mama what you want.”

That was all she needed to say to get the dam to break. As soon as you open your mouth, the words flowed out of you in a flurry of desperation. “I want… I wanna fill you up mama. Please. Please, I need it. Please mama.” You were bucking into her like a virginal teenage boy, erratic and sloppy, like you could actually feel yourself inside of her. “You feel so good, mama.”

“I’m so full,” she breathed. She was so sensitive. You were hitting every spot inside of her while simultaneously laying on her aching chest. “Fuck, angel, you’re filling me up so good. Do you want to feel mama cum on your cock? Do you wanna make mama cum?”

“Yes. Please yes,” you begged, rolling your hips into hers. You sat up a little more, getting a better angle that allowed you to get even deeper inside of her. There was a surge of hunger that shot through you at the sight of her, absolutely beside herself with pleasure underneath you. You reduced her to this. You are the reason she feels so good. In a feeble attempt at dominance, you took her wrists in your hands and pinned them to the bed.

“Yes, baby. Hold mama down and make her take your babies,” she moaned.

You whimpered. You were far too small to even attempt to actually hold her down, but the sentiment still drove you both crazy. You buried the strap as deep as it would go, squeezing the base and releasing inside of her.

She arched up off the mattress, mouth fixed in a perfect “o” shape as she came around you.

You stayed like that for a second, buried inside her until she stopped shaking and collapsed back onto the bed. Slowly, you eased yourself out of her, watching your seed spill out of her. You hadn’t expected it, but there was a certain level of discontentment you felt, seeing your essence drip onto the mattress. You gathered what you could onto the tip of the toy and gently pushed it back in.

She groaned, exhausted and unable to move. You gently eased yourself down to lay on her chest, careful to avoid her tender breasts. You went limp on top of her, merging together in a boneless and sweaty pile of heavy breaths as you both tried to recover.

When she regained the ability to move, she scooted back to sit up against the pillows and moved to stroke your hair. The toy slowly fell out of her, and the warm remnants of your orgasm started to pool on the sheets below. After a long moment of lying lifelessly sprawled out on top of her, you heard her chuckle. You lifted your head to find her smiling down at you in an ecstatic giggle.

“What?” you asked, confused as if you had missed some joke.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I’m just happy.” She craned her neck so she could see your face. She was grinning ear to ear. I was a true smile: one she couldn’t even repress if she tried.

“About what?” you asked, confused. Sex, even good sex, had never left her with such a cheery disposition before.

“Just…” she paused a minute, trying to figure out how to best phrase what she wanted to say. “My body is aching for a baby and then I look down and… you’re here.”

You smiled at that, feeling that you had filled some deep biological need within her just the same as she filled one in you. You looked at her swelling breasts, and you nosed at them in a silent question. She guided your head towards her nipple in a silent answer. Your lips wrapped delicately around the hardened bud, naturally massaging it with your tongue. Much to her dismay, there still wasn’t any milk, but there was a different type of magic to knowing there would be, eventually.

The two of you were working together to create a beautiful thing. It was a sort of tangible proof that her body was responding to you, claiming you as her own. Her breasts were growing for you. Filling with milk they made for you. Because she was your mama, and you were her baby.

[amynchan]

According to Wikipedia's List of giant pandas (just the ones who are alive), there are 19 Great Pandas born after June 6, 2008. Here are the names and birth dates I found of the ones still living (they're not in chronological order):

Bao Bao (born 2013)

Bei Bei (born 2015)

He Hua (born 2020)

Jia Panpan (born 2015)

Jia Yueyue (born 2015)

Jiao Qing (born 2010)

Lin Bing (born 2009)

Meng Lan (born 2015)

Po (born 2010) [lol]

Qi Zai (born 2009)

Rou Rou (born 2016)

Xiao Liwu (born 2012)

Xiang Xiang (born 2017)

Xiao Qi Ji (born 2020)

Yuan Zai (born 2013)

Yun Zi (born 2009)

Fubao (2020)

Da Mao (September 1, 2008)

Xi Lan (August 30, 2008)

And now because I'm curious (and rolling with it at this point), I'm gonna count how many giant pandas were born after 2008 but who may have, unfortunately, passed away. [one brief overview later] The good news is that there are none! (at least, no famous ones. Still, a win is a win!)

So, yeah. This is only a list of giant pandas (so we're not getting red pandas or literally any other species here), but for giant pandas, an average birth rate of less than two new pandas a year with the spike of panda births being 2 in 2008 and no new giant pandas since 2020 (4 years ago now) means that the original thought was straight up feasible to someone who's not bored enough to comb through wikipedia and its resources to figure it out. XD I thought it was real for a hot second until I wanted to figure out the numbers. XD

[listen: I know I only counted the pandas that have been born since KFP came out. There are an additional 7 pandas who have been born between 2004-2008 as well (marking an actual 20 year number), but I thought it'd be funnier just to pit the movie franchise against the real-time population rate . XD List here:

Er Shun (2007)

Mei Lan (2006)

Su Lin (2005)

Tai Shan (2005)

Yuan Yuan (2004)

Wang Wang (2005)

Zhen Zhen (2007)

This leaves the final score at 4 movies over 16 years v 26 itty bitty giant panda babies over 20 years. Though, at a quick glance, the rate of pandas (1.58 births per year with a maximum of 2/year over a 12 year period v. 2.33 births per year with a maximum of 3/year over a 4 year period) seems to be going down. That or giant pandas fucked relatively hard in 2004-2005.)]

[thephantomsdream]

"If you keep staring at me like that, I'll have to ask you what are we?" Imagine being the witness of a serious crime, but the team thought you were involved somehow and needed to rule you out. Cue to big, scary, mysterious, masked Ghost trying to intimidate you by existing near you.

Soap snorts and pats Ghost on the back, which earns a glare from him, all after the man blinked confused. He had pretty eyes. Gaz moves to a corner to smile way too much, and Price sighs loudly.

After a few more minutes of explaining that you were just on your way to your shitty job and that they needed to wrap this up before you are to inevitably getting fired, Ghost still looks straight into your soul, now with more intensity somehow.

At this point, you grit your teeth. You might legit not have a job after this, since you're already half an hour late, and this (weirdly cute) fucker is trying to read your thoughts.

"Oh, you're really into me, aren't you?" He blinks seemingly uninterested and you raise a brow at him, starting a staring contest until Price (as he previously introduced himself) got in between you two.

"I don't think you understand the situation that you're in." It took all of your will to not groan like a child and roll your eyes at him.

Cue to another round of you doubling down and explaining that you're extremely lame but a good person, all while Gaz still looks you up.

"She might be telling the truth, boss." He whispered to Price in the corner of the abandoned shop they broke onto to have some privacy. The man has been trying to confirm your identity all this time, meanwhile you looked up at your number one fan to say "I told you so" and gave him an exasperated sigh when you already caught him intensely staring into your eyes.

"Seriously..." You mutter and you almost believe seeing a crinkle of amusement in his eyes. Your eyes almost twitched. "I pronounce us husband and wife." You say, rolling your eyes at him. Yeah, take that, fuck-face. You childishly thought, absolutely thriving at his slow, surprised blink. Soap cackled and tried to hide it with a cough.

Long story (not) short, you were indeed let go after Gaz confirmed you're broke, lame and basic. No secret villain or anything. After they kinda apologized, Price basically tried to gaslight you into thinking everything is fine then tried to dip his toes into mansplaining the importance of greater things beyond you, he nodded to himself and patted you on the back before barking an order to his soldiers to move. Pretty brown eyes stayed glued onto your soul until you were pretty much skipping away out of sight, rushing to your job incredibly annoyed.

You couldn't really explain your absence to your boss and he didn't care much either, he told you to get to work.

Surprise, surprise, though, because at the end of your shift, he sugarly informed you that you're fired. He gave you the pay he owed you and there you were. Jobless. And probably homeless in a month's time.

A week later and some intense job hunting done, you're at your wit's end, truly. Job market is shit and nobody is looking to hire. As you enter your ratty apartment, you sigh and almost want to cry in frustration. You've been cursing the terrorists, soldiers and any motherfucker involved in last week's incident, entering your kitchen to grab a drink and eat some air since you needed to save money, when you froze in place.

In the middle of your tiny living room stood a massive dark frame, the outside lights shining through the balcony door behind him made the man unrecognizable. You were getting robbed. You just caught a dude right in the middle of robbing you. As if it was the cherry on top, every frustration you felt erupted out of you, and while you were still terrified by the massive frame, you growled a "Get the fuck out of my house."

A deep chuckle was your only response and you felt dread.

"You got spunk. And a shit survival instinct." He stepped closer. You stepped back immediately, calculating your route to the door, hoping he wouldn't be able to catch you. Denial. You knew. But you froze again in surprise. You knew that mask.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" It came more of a whisper, thinking you'd never meet those people again. Even standing up in front of him, he's massive. Maybe he came back for those dumbass comments you made. Oh, this is revenge, isn't it? He's built, he can legit destroy you with a punch. Oh, God, you're fucking dead. They still think you're a terrorist or some shit and he's here to destroy you out of existence.

Your mind rambled until he moved, and when he did, you tensed, mind blank. The man, the Ghost took a couple of steps towards you and placed his large hand on the back of your neck, pulling you close. Oh, you're gonna fucking die for sure. He leaned down to your eye level, making you stare into his dark eyes as he studied you.

"Came back to take care of my wife." He said. It was your turn to slowly blink at him. What?

[bbyseok]

expanding on this post, where you kiss gojo and he starts floating

gojo satoru x gn!reader

you’re greeted with the light of dawn streaming in, and the tickle of white tufts of hair against your chin. satoru’s body is curled close, one of his arms and his legs thrown over you.

it’s not the first time you’ve stayed overnight in gojo’s dorm room, but this is your first time staying over now that you’re a couple. it had been like any other night, but more meaningful touches and a shared buzz of warmth in your chests. and you had fallen asleep in his bed, entangled with his coziness.

but it’s morning now, and you know you should probably leave before yaga finds out you’re not in your own dorm. so somehow, you manage to wring yourself free from satoru’s grasp, even though he mumbles sleepily in complaint.

you can’t help but scoff fondly, peering down at him. his hands feel around in the space you had just been, a groan resonating from his chest as he blearily squints.

a small laugh creeps out of you then, “g’morning, ‘toru.” you bend down to brush your lips against his fleetingly, “i’ll see you in class later.”

when you leave his dorm and hear a soft ‘thud’, you think nothing of it. but it’s only a few steps down the hallway that you realize that you left your uniform jacket hanging on the edge of satoru’s bed.

so you head back, knocking twice on the door to let him know about your presence before opening it.

only to see that your boyfriend that you had left on the bed just moments ago was no where to be seen.

your brows furrow. “satoru? where are you?”

“up here, darling.”

and then your gaze flits up, up, up, just above the mattress. it’s gojo, on the ceiling, looking disheveled with his bed hair a mess, a sheepish grin on his lips.

“uhh, satoru?” you approach the bed, no longer concerned about your jacket as you stare up at him. “what’re you doing up there?”

he blinks down at you. “i woke up.”

you snort. “get down.”

“…i can’t.”

there’s a pause of silence, a period of staring at each other. you’re even more confused. “what do you mean you can’t?”

“i just can’t!”

it’s too early for this, and you’re sure that your chance of being discovered by yaga has shot up by a considerable amount.

“gojo satoru. just deactivate your technique.”

he pouts down at you. “you don’t think i tried that? i don’t know what happened, okay? i woke up from head-butting the ceiling, and even worse, to you gone without a word!”

it’s funny, how he’s much more upset about the fact that you had left him in bed alone rather than the fact that he’s stuck up there.

and it’s also really funny that he was sleepy enough that he didn’t remember you kissing him farewell not even five minutes ago.

“‘toru,” you laugh, shaking your head, “i said good morning and i kissed you.”

aaand now he remembers. he blinks once, twice.

“oh.”

and this time, you burst into a fit of giggles, to which gojo dopily grins down at you — happy that he’s the cause of it, even if it’s because he’s a little silly.

“i can’t believe you still floated even with you still half asleep.” you say, inching even closer to the bed and tilting your head further back to look up at him. “can you seriously not come back down?”

usually after he gets kissed, you or someone else is there to ground him before he floats off, and if not, he regains his composure soon after.

satoru’s pout deepens, fumbling and adjusting his awkward position on the ceiling. “nope.”

with a groan, you toe off your shoes and move to stand on the bed, hands grasping at his shirt and tugging in an attempt to bring him down.

“ugh, come on.”

you try with his hands next, and he’s all too eager to twine your fingers together as you tug on them too. he still isn’t budging.

“babe..” he starts, and you hear his cheeky grin before you see it, “think you needa kiss me again.”

you give him a pointed look. “and why in the world would that work?”

“c’mon, trust me,” satoru pries with a slight whine, “you did this, maybe you can undo it.”

you blink at him incredulously. “i did this? it’s not my fault you turn into a balloon every time i-” you shake your head when he does nothing but stare pleadingly. “fine, fine.”

you lean up on wobbly toes to give him the second kiss of this morning. it’s short but sweet all the same, and gojo chases after your lips as you pull away.

“see, i told you it wouldn-”

satoru yelps and crashes down on top of you, the two of you landing smack down on the bed.

you groan, trapped underneath his weight. at least you know now to be extra careful with your kisses. you can feel him nosing at the underside of your jaw teasingly.

“heh, good morning to you too, sweetheart.”

[purinfelix]

just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto

summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear

a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)

"You're actually insane."

"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"

You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.

"A fake relationship?"

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"

You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.

"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"

"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."

"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.

Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.

"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.

God fucking damnit.

It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.

You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.

"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"

You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"

His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."

Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.

"Firstly, no kissing."

"Understood."

"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."

"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"

You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.

"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."

"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."

"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."

You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.

There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.

Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.

Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.

"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.

"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.

"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."

"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."

"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."

When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"

He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."

"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.

"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"

"See you then."

The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.

The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.

But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.

"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.

"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."

"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."

You think for a little before answering, "You're right."

"Do you think there's a reason for that?"

"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."

"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."

There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.

"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.

"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."

"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."

"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."

"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."

He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.

"God, I'm so full."

"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"

"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.

"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.

"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."

"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"

"Wow, boring."

He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"

"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.

"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."

You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"

"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.

"Oh we're not-"

"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."

You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.

"No, it's okay, I got this."

"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."

"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."

You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.

"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"

"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.

"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.

Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.

You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?

"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.

"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.

"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.

"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.

"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"

Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.

"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.

"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"

You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.

"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."

He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.

"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.

You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"

"Look, I can explain!"

You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.

"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."

You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.

"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."

"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.

There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."

"What?"

"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.

"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.

"What?" you're confused.

"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.

"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.

Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.

You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.

"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.

"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.

"Don't you?"

"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."

Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.

"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?

"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"

You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.

"Sure, what about?"

"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."

"Goodnight Franco."

"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.

However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.

You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.

"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.

"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.

"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.

"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.

Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.

"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.

Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.

You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.

"Better?"

"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."

"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."

You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.

"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.

"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.

You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."

He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."

"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.

Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.

"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"

He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.

"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"

You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.

"What?" he says, and your heart drops.

"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.

"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.

"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."

"When did you realise?"

"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."

There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.

But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."

It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.

"Wait you mean you-"

"I win!"

You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.

"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.

You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"

"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."

"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."

"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."

"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.

"Even when you proposed this to me?"

"Yep."

"Even when we went to get ice cream?"

"Yep."

"Even when you kissed me?"

"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.

"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."

You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"

"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.

"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.

"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."

You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."

Taglist : @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @cinderellawithashoe @vanicogh @taasgirl @claudiajacobs

@dripostsstuff @boiolay @earth-to-lottie @dejavuontrack @dudududu-fangirl

@kravitzwhore @gavisuntiedboot @reiofsuns2001 @musicmie @danielle12002x-blog

@alelo23 @corrodeddeadlydoll @aliwritex @nina-or-anna-or-nora

@5sospenguinqueen @araunahj @sbrn0905 @halleest @lottieliveslife

@lovestruck-sky @im-an-op81-fan @blubra @vienoiserieetc

(don't ask me why it's formatted so weird, tumblr hates me)

[goldsainz]

# OP81 — LIPSTICK KISSES !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ wearing lipstick ensures you can leave a visible mark on your boyfriend.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ kissing, not proofread.

003. NOTE !

✯ this is a short one but i like it! i need a break from writing longer stuff, and this was the perfect way😁 if you wanna leave requests for oscar or others (check this) you’re more than welcome to 🫶

word count : 466

It’s media day, and you know how busy that makes Oscar. Between interviews, team meetings, and PR commitments—it’s a nonstop whirlwind. But as he steps out of the motorhome in his pristine McLaren attire, you can’t help but catch his attention.

“Wait!” you call, hurrying after him. He turns, his brows knitting together in mild confusion.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice soft but curious.

You close the distance between you, reaching up to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. “Just thought you could use some good luck,” you say with a sly smile, leaning in.

The first kiss lands on his cheek, leaving a faint mark from your lipstick. Before he can react, you press another below his jawline, just along the collar of his shirt. The final one, bold and playful, ends up just on the corner of his mouth.

“Seriously?” he says, his tone half-exasperated but mostly amused.

“Good luck comes in threes,” you tease, stepping back to admire your work. “You’ll be brilliant today.”

Oscar shakes his head, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. “You do realize there are cameras everywhere, right?”

“Relax, no one’s going to notice,” you say confidently, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before disappearing into the paddock.

Fast forward ten minutes, and Oscar is standing in the media pen, preparing for his first interview. You’re watching from a screen nearby, grinning as you notice the faint marks of your kisses.

His PR manager notices the marks before he does. She pulls him aside, whispering urgently. You can tell from the way his hand shoots up to his neck that he’s finally realized what you’ve done.

“Are you serious right now?” You can almost hear him mutter, his expression a mix of amusement and frustration as he tries to rub at the marks with a tissue. It only makes it worse.

With time running out, he rubs the marks one more time and fixes his shirt, hoping it’ll hide the evidence. But as soon as the interview starts, the first question makes him freeze.

“So, Oscar, it looks like someone’s been giving you some extra luck today,” the reporter says with a grin, gesturing to his neck.

You burst out laughing at the look on his face, watching as his cheeks turn a faint shade of pink. Still, he recovers like the pro he is.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve got a very supportive… fan,” he replies smoothly, though his lips twitch like he’s fighting back a smile.

Somewhere in the chaos, Oscar’s eyes flicker toward the camera, and for a moment, it feels like he knows exactly where you’re watching from. His smirk deepens just a little.

You know you’re going to hear about this later, but for now, you’re too busy enjoying the show.

[admiringlove]

[14:22] . . .

“screw this,” you mutter, the words tasting bitter in your mouth as you shove the pen across the book you hadn’t touched in twenty minutes. “i’m going home.”

kuroo tetsurō looks up from his own mess of notes and highlighters, his face an assemblage of quiet mockery—one eyebrow perched like it’s considering leaping from his face, the corners of his mouth lifting into a half-smile, the kind that made you think he was perpetually on the verge of saying something he shouldn’t. when he speaks, his voice is a drawl, a flick of something sharp: “oh yeah?”

“yeah,” you snap, a little sharper than intended, though the satisfaction of it dulls the sting of your frustration. your hands fumble as you cram the book into your satchel, pages bending at the corners. “screw this. and screw you.”

his smile falters for just a second, replaced by something unreadable—surprise, amusement, offense, some strange combination of all three. “what’d i do?”

you stop then, standing still in front of him, the strap of your satchel clenched tight in your hand. your chest rises and falls in an uneven rhythm, your breath catching on the edge of something you can’t quite name. he’s looking at you with those stupid, stupid eyes—sharp and dark and just a little too knowing, except for the moments when they aren’t.

you exhale sharply, the sound of it cutting through the low murmur of the library. “you’re an idiot.”

he tilts his head, clearly amused now. the slight quirk of his lips tells you he’s not taking this seriously, and why would he? you’ve never managed to hold your own against him before. not when he looks at you like that. “an idiot?” he repeats, as though the word is foreign to him, his voice teasing, lilting.

“yes,” you bite out, the word sharp and precise. “a dense, oblivious idiot.”

you’re walking away now, your steps purposeful, though there’s a tremor in your hands as you push the heavy library doors open. the hinges groan in protest, but you don’t stop. he’s already following you, the sound of his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor echoing in the quiet space.

“wait, wait, wait,” he says, stumbling over the words as he catches up to you. his hand hovers in the air between you, like he’s unsure if he should reach for you or let you go. “what do you mean by ‘dense’? what’s that supposed to mean?”

you stop at the threshold, the cold air from outside rushing in and biting at your skin. the streetlights cast long, wavering shadows on the pavement, and for a moment, the two of you are framed in that glow—his tall figure towering over yours, his expression softening with something you can’t quite place.

“for someone as smart as you,” you say slowly, deliberately, your voice low and steady, “you’re so stupid. you’re blind, tetsurō.”

he blinks at you, the words clearly sinking in one by one, but his confusion remains intact. “okay,” he says cautiously, “and why, exactly, am i blind?”

you let out a long, exasperated sigh, your breath visible in the chilly air. “you flirt with me,” you say, your voice rising now, “and then you flirt with other girls—girls who wouldn’t know what a periodic table was if it hit them in the face! and i’m just supposed to sit there and watch?”

“wait,” he interrupts, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “you’re mad because i flirt with other girls?”

you narrow your eyes at him, your face heating despite the cold. “i’m mad,” you hiss, “because you don’t get it. you don’t see it. you’re too busy being... being you.”

he’s staring at you now, the realization dawning slowly, like a sunrise he hadn’t expected to see. “oh,” he says, the sound soft, almost reverent.

“yeah,” you snap, your voice thick with something you don’t want to name. “oh.”

for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the wind and the faint hum of distant traffic. then, he takes a step closer, his breath warm against your skin despite the chill in the air. “so... you like me?” he asks, his voice quiet but steady, like he already knows the answer.

you don’t look at him when you answer, your voice barely above a whisper. “yes. i like you, you idiot. and you’re so... infuriating about it.”

his laugh is soft, almost disbelieving, and when you finally look up, his face is inches from yours. there’s something in his expression that makes your stomach flip, something raw and unguarded. “if it makes you feel any better,” he says, his voice low, “i’ve been trying to get you to notice me for two years.”

“two years?” you echo, your voice cracking slightly.

he nods, the smirk returning to his face, though it’s softer now, almost shy. “two years,” he repeats.

and then he’s kissing you.

it’s soft at first, tentative, his lips barely brushing yours like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but when you don’t—when you lean into him, your hands clutching the front of his shirt—he deepens it like he's been waiting for this his entire life, his hands sliding to the small of your back, pulling you closer. the world blurs around you, the cold and the noise fading into nothing as his mouth moves against yours.

when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting against yours, he’s grinning like he’s just won the lottery. “three years,” you mumble, your voice shaky.

he pulls back slightly, his eyebrows furrowing. “what?”

“i’ve liked you for three years,” you admit, your cheeks burning.

his grin widens, and he leans in again, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, “then i guess we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[logansluvr]

TASTE

LOGAN HOWLETT x F!READER

SUMMARY : You won’t admit it, but it stung when you realized you were just a placeholder while Logan waited for Jean AGAIN. Now that she has him, she realizes that no matter how hard she tries there will always be you somewhere on him…Or Jean and Logan both fucked themselves over while you enjoy the aftermath.

WARNING : description of mutant powers (all things nature), angst, more angst, Jean slander (sorry), suggestive content, nothing deeper than a make out, hurt/slight comfort, some Logan slander (ily), Logan has some self reflection time, love triangle??square???

basically I was listening to taste and this sparked in my head and now it won’t leave me alone…

I heard you're back together and if that's true

you'll just have to taste me when he's kissin' you

IN ALL HONESTY SOMEWHERE IN THE BACK OF your mind you knew it was coming. It was nice to indulge in the fantasy though. You indulged in it as an ode to your past self ( you from a year ago ) when you realized that what you thought of Logan was more than a crush. The opportunity presented itself so sinfully you thought it had to be some sort of hallucination.

You couldn’t say no, after all you still had that ode to your past self and deep down you felt…comforted. Comforted in the fact that Logan had thought about you in that way — though that thought diminished soon enough.

At first it was nice, Logan treated you right even if there was something a little off about it. He took you out on occasion, made you laughed, hell he even laughed with you.

There was a point after three months where he began to not mind falling asleep in your bed — even if he acted a little colder the day after it happened.

There were nights when he would be extra tense after a small rescue mission, or after something happened during the day.

He’d take it out on you by burying himself inside of you, biting down on your chest in places clothes covered — other times he’d just bury his head between your thighs taking his time in making you fall apart over and over.

But after nights like those he wouldn’t even look you in the eyes directly. It seemed that only a half a year into your relationship you realized something odd. Certain people in the halls would stare at you with pity, Scott Summers barely looked you in the eyes and even the professor seemed like each word he said to you he was internally wincing.

It was only one night after a particularly rough mission that you had pieced most of it together. Once you were in your room you recalled the high tension between Scott, Jean, and Logan. Most of the time you felt like you a Ororo were missing a big piece of something — especially with the way they’d all go at each other.

You were grateful he had the decency to tell you rather than ignore you, you weren’t even paying attention. Too busy trying to hold back tears — ones you were confused on having.

He muttered something along the lines of you being too young and he just isn’t ready for something like that. You didn’t care, it was a bunch of bullshit. You didn’t need telepathy to know that.

Once he shut the door behind him you had walked to the shower, turned it on, stepped inside with your clothes on, and cried. For a minute you didn’t even realize why you were crying until you had the realization that it was because you felt more for him than you initially let yourself believe.

The days after that everyone sensed the tension, Logan tried to act normal. You however, you just simply brushed him off — he didn’t need to know that he had seriously fucked with your mental. You were going to act normal, act like it didn’t affect you.

It was bad enough the professor looked at you with sympathy the day after your crying session.

On the bright side he fixed your schedule around so you’d see less of Logan.

The week following the breakup you realized he hadn’t even waited that long before he was already crowding Jean — that’s when you realized it wasn’t one big coincidence Scott was meaner at the same time Logan was crowding the Dr.

You had unfortunately turned down the hallway about a week and a half after the breakup, patting a student on the shoulder after they had bombarded you with questions. You were going to meet Scott, his next class in coordination with yours.

But as you glanced at the end of the hall you saw him. Standing next to her, arm on the wall as he smiled down at her. Staring like she was the only thing in the room — you could almost hear the swish of the trees outside, an affect from the anger simmering beneath you.

Thankfully someone stepped out of the classroom you were about to enter. It was one about halfway down the hall, and it seemed to draw both your attention and the attention of couple practically eye fucking at the end of the hallway.

Scott glanced at them, thankful for his sunglasses so they couldn’t see the glare on his face before he turned towards you. Clenching his jaw he walked towards you, handing you the lesson plan he had worked up.

You were far too busy reading over the sheet to notice the gaze burning holes into your back — but Scott wasn’t. And as he glanced over his shoulder he found Logan Howlett staring directly at you.

And a Jean grey staring at him staring at you.

It was only about three weeks after the breakup when something seemed to change. You hadn’t truly been feeling better but you were getting there — busying yourself with other things. Working more on your abilities and working on your training.

You were none the wiser to the situation happening between the two people you’d successfully stopped feeling hatred for. You stopped the avoidance thing about two weeks after the breakup, the mansion was big but not that big.

While it didn’t outwardly bother you that much, other people seemed to notice a tense thing between the couple anytime you were in the vicinity.

There was a day when it seemed like everything went from bad to worse between them. It was a nice day outside and Jean found herself in Logan’s arms, holding onto him whilst his lips pressed against hers.

Her hands were tangling in his hair whilst they swapped whatever DNA they were hoping to swap. And when they pulled away to catch their breath her eyes remained closed, a small furrow in her brow as her tongue ran over her lips.

If someone were to ask her, she’d say she was hallucinating.

Because she could’ve sworn she tasted cherry lipgloss on Logan’s lips — cherry lipgloss she didn’t own.

Yet as her tongue darted out to lick her lips again, it was gone. Her eyes cracking open to find Logan’s gaze over her shoulder, and when she spun around to glance at what had got his attention there you were.

There you always were.

Oblivious to the fact that Logan was watching you. Oblivious to the fact that wherever you showed up he seemed to only look at you the way he used to look at Jean. Oblivious to the fact that all you had to do was enter the same room and all of the sudden his attention was on you.

And it wasn’t on purpose, cause there was a moment where your mental forces had slipped and she probed. And when she dug deeper she only find pure oblivion, it made it all the harder to spite you.

She could ignore if she wanted too, and she tried. For a while. But every-time she kissed him, there was that lingering feeling of tasting cherry lipgloss.

The same cherry lipgloss she watched you apply in a mirror in the hallway.

And she swore your perfume lingered on him even if it had been weeks since you’d been within five feet of him.

Every time you close your eyes

And feel his lips, you're feelin' mine

And every time you breathe his air

Just know I was already there

this was short Ik but I’m currently crying because I had a smut with over 6.k words and HALF OF IT DIDNT SAVE?!??!?

anyways <33 taglist??

[hellodropbear]

chosen.

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter

isabel is finally adopted

new chapter!!!

as always, hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think (good or bad lol) and anything else you want to see :)

~~~~~~

It was something Isabel had been nagging Mapi about for months. Maybe even longer. 

Isabel wasn't stupid anymore, she knew that Mapi had not planned to be her mother. There were other people, and half of her was made of who was supposed to be her father, the man that Mapi spoke so highly of despite getting choked up every time he was brought up in conversation. 

She knew they had died right before she was born and she knew that Mapi was left with a baby that she hadn't actually asked for. 

Isabel knew Mapi stopped playing football until she was older, taking a long chunk out of what would have likely been the peak of her career. 

She knew Ingrid came along later, which is why she had grown up calling her Ingrid. 

She didn't call her Mami, she didn't call her Mama. She called her Ingrid which just seemed so wrong. 

Because Ingrid was her mother, as much as Mapi. 

Mapi had given birth to her, she was a single mother for the first two years probably, until her relationship with Ingrid started getting more serious and both Isabel and Mapi became more and more reliant on the brunette Norwegian that they had fallen in love with so quickly. 

Isabel looked like Mapi, and she carried a few of her personality traits around with her. Outgoing, funny, chatty. 

But Ingrid also raised her, which meant she carried around the Norwegian's calmness, her kindness and her emotional nature. 

She was practically a carbon copy of Mapi on the outside, but anyone who knew her on the inside would say she was the perfect blend of both women. 

So how come she only called one of them Mami? 

Why was it that if she was seriously injured, only Mapi would be called up?

And Isabel wasn't stupid, she knew that Ingrid wished she had been there from the beginning, that her name was written on all of the important documents. She knew that Ingrid wished she was called Mama. 

Not Ingrid. 

When she was younger, Isabel would call Ingrid Mama when she was tired or sad, if she wanted a hug or if she was just feeling emotional. 

It would be in those tender moments and Ingrid's heart would melt every time. It was always in the apartment, hidden away from the rest of the world and just the three of them there together. 

But it never really stuck, and Isabel continued to call her by her first name everywhere else. Her teachers would ask about Mami and they'd ask about Ingrid, her friends would get confused because who is Ingrid?

They all just had a Mami and a Papi. 

Ingrid always thought that Mami and Mama would make more sense. 

So when Mapi knocked on her bedroom door, an official looking document held securely in her hand, Isabel had a very large suspicion that she knew exactly what was in that plastic slip. 

Mapi could tell she knew, the way her eyes lit up and she immediately placed her guitar to the side, sitting up as Mapi moved to sit beside her. 

"Is it them?"

Mapi smiled, tears in her eyes. 

"Yeah, it is."

"Mami!" Isabel practically jumped on her trying to hug her, tears springing from her eyes as well. "Thank you so much!"

Mapi just shrugged. 

"She's your Mama and has been for your whole life, this just makes it official."

"We have to plan something so special! Mami, I can't wait to tell her!"

Mapi laughed softly, planting a kiss on Isabel's head and hugging her in close. 

"We'll just have to make sure she says yes! She might not want to be officially related to a little rodent like you."

Isabel laughed, whacking her mother's side in mock offence and rolling her eyes. 

They both knew that it wasn't true, that Ingrid loved Isabel more than anything else. 

"She loves me more than you, Mami, you're just jealous."

Mapi laughed, silently agreeing. 

She would never admit that though. 

"You wish."

~~~~~~

Isabel spent every minute of the next two weeks planning what would be the perfect surprise for Ingrid, only requesting advice from Mapi a few times. 

It was a photo album that she was creating, filled with just pictures of them as Isabel got older, Mapi only featuring at times that Isabel deemed it absolutely necessary.

Birthdays, christmases, family barbecues, trips to Norway. Summer holidays on the beach. 

Skating competitions, Isabel stood there proudly with the gold medal hanging round her neck, a giddy smile on her face as Ingrid had picked her up despite her rapidly growing figure. 

She had scrolled through all of Mapi's old photos, printing out the good ones and sticking them in the page with stickers and little notes until it was completely full. 

She wrote a letter, enlisting Caro to help her perfect her Norwegian, making her swear to secrecy - the contents of the note were strictly confidential. 

She came up with a plan, something she knew Ingrid would love. A walk to their park was nothing worth being suspicious of, not even when the 10 year old pulled out Bagheera’s carrier. 

It was a family affair, she told Mapi. It would be mean to leave the cat out of it just because she didn’t usually go on their walks. 

It was a nice walk and a nice picnic, planned out to the T by Isabel, down to what colour lined the paper plates and how the fruits on the fruit platter would be cut. 

Everything she did was for Ingrid and if the Norwegian had asked her, she would have been able to explain every single decision in a way that related back to how much she loved Ingrid. 

Perhaps, for that reason, it was best that the papers were forgotten at home, because Ingrid would have been inconsolable if she saw the papers, the photo album and then was explained every single little decision made by her little girl. 

Isabel was disappointed, but Mapi reassured her that the Norwegian would not mind, that her reaction wouldn't change whether she was given those papers on the top of the eiffel tower or in a dump in the middle of the city. 

So the 10 year old waited until they got home and finished eating dinner, only heading up to her room to collect the file once Mapi and Ingrid were sat on the sofa, waiting for their child to return and choose something to watch. 

She couldn't help the nerves that filled up her stomach, the anxieties that began to attack her as soon as the file was in her shaking hand. She almost felt sick as she walked downstairs, spying the back of Ingrid's head, hearing their voices chatting and laughing. 

It took one last push of confidence to walk and stand in front of them, the file held tightly in her hands as she anxiously rocked back and forth on her heels. 

She took a deep breath, realising that everything she had planned to say was long forgotten, instead just brandishing the file towards Ingrid, who took it with an air of confusion as she glanced between Isabel and Mapi. 

"What's this, Is?"

Isabel cowered under her glance, suddenly full of insecurity and self doubt. Would Ingrid even want to be her mother?

She had spent so much time thinking about how much she wanted Ingrid to be her mother, that she sort of ignored the possibility that the Norwegian didn't want that. 

And that would completely break the 10 year old. 

"Just open it." Mapi smiled reassuringly at Isabel, noticing her nerves, before looking over at Ingrid who had completely frozen as soon as she read the first few words on the top of the first page. 

She immediately broke down in tears, her body racking with sobs as she realised what she had just been given.

~~~~~~

"Isabel Leon! We're going and we're going now!" Ingrid was beyond frustrated, the 8 year old not listening to a word she said. Mapi was out of town for the week so they had been left alone together and the child was experiencing a severe case of 'I miss my mum' and it was materialising as disobedience and ignorance of Ingrid. 

"No!" She slammed her door closed for effect, throwing herself on her bed and willing herself not to cry. 

"Isabel, this is important and I can't leave you here. We have to go, you can sulk in the car."

The Norwegian was stood right outside the door, her hands massaging her head in frustration at the girl. 

"No! I'm not coming."

Ingrid huffed, shoving open the bedroom door and picking the ever-growing child up from her bed. 

"Ingrid!" She screeched loudly, almost deafening the brunette. "NO! Put me down, Ingrid, NOW!"

Her words dissolved into sobs as Ingrid continued to carry her until they had exited the apartment, the door locked behind them, Isabel left with no way to get back in. 

"I want Mami, Ingrid, I miss Mami!"

She shook her head, using her hand to guide the child into the lift. 

"Well Mami's gone, so you're stuck with me for now. You're just going to have to make do."

The child lashed out at the words and the contact, flipping around and facing Ingrid as the elevator doors closed. 

"There's a reason you're not my Mami!"

Her vision was blurred by her tears so she couldn't see the hurt that flashed over the woman's face. She only realised later that night that what she said was wrong, that she had been horrible to someone she loved so much for no reason. 

And Ingrid would never admit the reason that she was in tears as Mapi called her that night, alone and wrapped up in bed. 

As she put down the phone, tears still dripping down her face. It wasn’t often that her insecurities returned, but when they did it was like wildfire, quickly spreading and destroying everything good in it’s path. 

Because Isabel was right, Ingrid wasn’t her Mami. She wasn’t her Mama either, she was just Ingrid. 

She was Isabel’s Mami’s girlfriend. 

But if she asked either of the Spaniard’s, they would assure her that she is so much more than that. 

It was with desperation that she tried to wipe her tears away as her bedroom door creaked open, Isabel creeping through the door and silently climbing up onto Mapi’s side of the bed, curling herself up in Ingrid’s side. 

The Norwegian didn’t realise she was crying until she heard the sniffle, her shoulders shuddering subtly.

“Is.” Ingrid’s voice was a whisper and Isabel turned around to face her, eyes puffy and her cheeks stained with tears. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Ingrid.”

She took a deep, shuddery breath and nestled her head into Ingrid’s chest. 

“Please don’t leave me and Mami.”

Ingrid frowned, wrapping her arms tighter around the girl. 

“Why would you think I was leaving you and your Mami?”

Isabel shrugged, her voice breaking as she replied. 

“I said that you’re not my Mami, but you are. I was naughty and you were angry and I don’t want you to leave me, Ingrid, because I love you.”

The Norwegian’s heart broke but she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and responding. 

“I will never leave you and your Mami. Never ever worry about that because I will always be here. And you were just upset today, you missed Mami and you were angry and sad and said stuff to me that you didn’t mean but it’s ok, Is, because you know it was naughty and you’ve apologised. But please, never ever worry about me leaving. I love you way too much to not see you every single day.”

~~~~~~

“Where is Ingrid, Mami?” 

She had woken up confused, her head sore and her arm in a cast. 

All she could remember was dragging Pina and Patri to the skatepark, showing off her new tricks. They were impressive, for a 9 year old and Mapi worried every day about her little girl flying around the skatepark with little to no concern about her own safety. 

When Pina and Patri had offered to babysit, she specifically told them that if they went to the skatepark, Isabel had to wear all the protective equipment that Mapi had purchased. 

Which she did, the two women making sure everything was on tight, equally as nervous as Mapi tended to be whenever she had to accompany Isabel to the skatepark. 

But whenever Pina or Patri turned their back, she would discreetly shed another protective item, embarrassed and humiliated in front of all the local skaters who wore nothing but their normal clothes and a helmet. 

They noticed, of course they did, but Isabel was too quick on her board for them to catch her and put them back on.

“Pequena!” Patri had yelled, her voice stressed and somewhat angry. “Come back here right now and put this all back on!”

It was rare Patri yelled at her, so the harsh words came as a shock to Isabel, who tried to pull off a spin at the top of the bowl so she could turn around. 

Except it was a trick she hadn’t quite mastered yet, and instead of landing it on two feet, she plummeted to the base of the bowl with a sickening crunch, immediately bursting into tears. 

Pina swore as Patri jumped down to her, scooping her up in her arms and giving her a quick once over. 

Her heart sank when she saw the wonky arm. Broken, easily. 

Pina grabbed the board and followed quickly, jumping into the drivers seat as Patri carefully slid into the back, nursing Isabel’s arm as the 9 year old sobbed in pain. 

“Please, Patri!” She had sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t tell Mami, she will be so mad at me.”

Patri sighed quietly, knowing that Mapi’s anger would be directed entirely at Pina and herself. 

She didn’t tell Isabel that, instead kissing her head and soothing her, whispering quiet Spanish in her ear until her cries weakened and she fell asleep. 

The doctors in the hospital had confirmed the broken arm, as well as a very minor concussion that required monitoring for 24 hours. 

But she woke up, her mother’s familiar tattooed hand resting on her leg, her eyes full of worry and stress as she stared down at her daughter. 

Ingrid, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

Mapi had been so caught up in her daughter’s injuries that she hadn’t even considered where Ingrid was having not seen her since that very morning. 

“I’m so glad you’re ok, my lion cub.”

The discipline about her gear would come later. Even if Patri and Pina had disregarded it, she had told Isabel time and time again about it’s importance. Today, unfortunately, Mapi had been proven right. 

She had yelled that to the two younger Spaniards as they waited in the hallway, sending them home with their heads bowed and tears in their eyes. 

For some reason, they didn’t tell her that they had been extra careful all day, Isabel only getting hurt after they had told her to come back to replace all her knee pads. Mapi was so angry, which they had understood. 

They were just upset because she had told them they would never see the little girl again, mapi couldn’t trust two people so irresponsible.

It was dramatic, of course, but Pina and Patri had never seen Mapi so angry before. 

“Where’s Ingrid?”

Mapi sighed quietly, stroking Isabel’s hair back. 

“I’ll call Ingrid, she can come in.”

She did just that, easily dialling the Norwegian on her phone, only having to wait through two rings before she picked up. 

“Is has been asking for you, Ingrid, do you want to come over to the hospital?”

Mapi hadn’t really known where Ingrid was, but her concern about why her girlfriend wasn’t there was sort of pushed to the side as she worried about her daughter’s wellbeing. 

She didn’t expect Ingrid to sound so frustrated, so upset. 

“I’ve been here this whole time, Mapi! They won’t let me up because I’m not on her documents. You’re her mother, not me.”

The Spaniard’s heart dropped, immediately filling with guilt. 

“I’ll be right there.”

She was practically flying down the stairs, grabbing Ingrid by the arm and pulling her into the lift. 

“I’m sorry, Ingrid. I’m so sorry.”

It was hard for the Spaniard to keep her tears at bay, the emotions of her day catching up with her. But Ingrid broke down in her arms, silently crying. 

“She’s my kid too, Mapi. She’s my kid too.”

Isabel didn’t know why both Ingrid and Mapi were crying when they entered her room again, but she did finally feel at ease with them both on either side of her, swiftly falling asleep as their hands rested on her smaller form. 

~~~~~~

Her first day of school had gone well. Better than well, really, she had loved everything about it. 

Her teacher, her friends, the food, her new pencil case and backpack. 

Everything had been perfect. It was still perfect as she spied her mother standing by the gate, Baloo’s leash in her hand as the young golden retriever stood steady by her side. 

“Mamiii!” 

Her backpack was dropped on the floor as she raced towards Mapi, throwing herself into her open arms and sighing contentedly as she was picked up, her head fitting easily on Mapi’s shoulders. 

“Oh hello there!” 

Mapi smiled, walking over to the abandoned school bag and skillfully bending down to pick it up with one hand, her daughter and the dog’s leash being held securely in the other. 

“How was your day, Is?”

Her question caused the girl to burst into excited chatter, eating Mapi’s ear off with her words as she recounted every possible story from the moment she was dropped off the the moment she was reunited, her words so quick that she was all finished by the time they arrived back to the apartment. 

“I made a friend, Mami!” 

She skipped beside her mother as they walked towards the lift, a grin settled on her face. 

Mapi was impressed, but not remotely surprised. It seemed that her daughter had inherited her own chattiness and confidence, but she was also an inherently happy kid who practically radiated sunshine. 

Mapi never had to worry about the girl making friends. 

So she listened as Isabel told her all about her new friend Sofie, about how she wasn’t even from Spain. 

“She’s from the same place as Esmee, Mami!” 

Dutch, Mapi thought. She wondered what a Dutch family was doing in Barcelona.

She continued to talk about Sofie’s older brother, her mother and father. Her grandparents and her cousins. 

But a small frown settled upon her face, as she looked up at Mapi with an inquisitive gaze. 

“I told her that I have a Mami, but no Papi. She asked who else looks after me because her Mami needs her Papi’s help all the time, so I told her I have an Ingrid, but she didn’t really get it. Because Ingrid isn’t a Papi.”

Mapi sighed, unclipping Baloo from his leash and moving to unpack Isabel’s backpack.

“Come up here, Is.” She patted the kitchen bench in front of her and the girl raced over, pulling herself up onto the bench with a practised ease. 

“You don’t have a Papi, no. But you have a Mami, don’t you?” Isabel nodded her head eagerly, wriggling slightly in her spot. “And who else do you have?”

“I have an Ingrid!” 

Mapi nodded, but gave her a look that prompted her to continue. 

“And an Ale, a Frido, Esmee! Pina, Patri. Leila, even though she lives all the way in England.”

“Who else?”

“Abuela and Abuelo! And tio and tia!” 

Mapi nodded proudly, placing her hands on Isabel’s shoulders. 

“You don’t have a Papi, Is, but you do have so many people here that love you, Ingrid more than anyone. We can’t even remember life without Ingrid, can we?”

Isabel shook her head, frowning. 

“I miss her when she’s away.”

“So do I.”

It was true, the house always seemed so much more quiet whenever the Norwegian had to return to Norway, even though she made by far the least noise out of all of them. She was a popular presence and one that made life so much more enjoyable for the two of them. 

Of course on the other side, Ingrid missed them equally as much and she was absolutely devastated that her national team duties were pulling her away from Isabel as she started school, one of the biggest days yet in her short life. 

But she had missed yet another milestone, just as she was cementing her place as a mother in Isabel’s life. 

“But Is, she’s your Mami too. You know this, she’s Mama.”

Isabel nodded. 

“I don’t think Sofie knew that it was ok to have no Papi because she looked sad when I told her.”

“Well, tomorrow you can tell Sofie that you’re ok! You don’t need a Papi because you have a Mama instead. Tell Sofie that families always look different but that doesn’t mean we love each other any less.”

She grinned, her head bobbing up and down happily. 

“I love you Mami!” 

Mapi smiled, reciprocating her words without hesitation. 

“Do you want to call Ingrid and tell her the same thing?”

“Let’s call Mama!” 

Mapi smiled with pride, scooping Isabel up in her arms and walking them over to the sofa as she dialled Ingrid. 

And that is where they sat for the next couple of hours, on the phone to their Ingrid, cuddled up in each others arms. 

It was Mapi’s favourite place, only made better when the Norwegian was right there too, her soft skin providing that extra love and warmth that both Spaniards desired so deeply. 

Ingrid was family now. Irreplaceable and incomparable. 

But if you asked Mapi, she would say that Ingrid had been family from the moment she first held Isabel in her arms. 

~~~~~~

Isabel watched as Ingrid broke down, tears streaming down her face and landing with big splats on her legs. 

The Norwegian was always going to be emotional, that was expected. Both Spaniards knew how insecure she was about her place in Isabel’s life, her role in this family. The insecurities were thick, stubborn. They never went away, despite how much Isabel and Mapi tried to cut them out, to push them away. 

The truth was enough for them to withstand any pushing that the mother daughter duo attempted, the facts were all there. 

Mapi was Isabel’s mother, she was the one on the documents, the one who was called if anything happened. She was allowed in Isabel’s hospital room when she got sick and she was the one that Isabel called Mami. 

Ingrid knew she was important, she knew she was loved. 

But she had always been Ingrid, excluding those few treasured times where Isabel had tiredly reached out for Mama. She found everything out through Mapi, she wasn’t even on the email list for her school. 

But these documents changed everything. 

For Ingrid, they changed everything. 

For Isabel and Mapi they changed nothing at all. 

Ingrid’s tears were expected, they were justified. But all she needed to do was look up at Isabel for her to run into her arms, almost toppling her over from her seated position on the sofa with the shear force of her body ramming into Ingrid’s, her arms easily wrapping around her. 

The Norwegian reciprocated the hug, her tears saturating the shoulder of Isabel’s shirt. 

“Do you want to be my Mama?”

Ingrid’s sobs became more audible as she tried to respond, words failing her as she nodded. The tears continued, Baloo looking up in confusion as the Norwegian cried, as Mapi did nothing to console her, instead watching on with a wet smile, tears dripping down her face. 

She was grateful to Ingrid because without her, life would be completely different. Without Ingrid, she would likely be a single mother. She and Isabel would live alone, Bagheera there too but Baloo wouldn’t have been an option if there wasn’t another adult there. 

Ingrid was the first time Mapi ever felt true love, the first time she ever felt like she was loved completely and romantically. The Norwegian made her happy, she made Isabel happy too. 

She had changed their lives for the better. 

Mapi would never be able to thank her enough. 

She watched as Ingrid’s cries softened, as she leant back and grabbed Isabel’s shoulders, looking at her straight in the eyes. 

“I would love nothing more, Isabel.”

It wasn’t long before Isabel disappeared, racing up to her room to grab her gift. As she left, Mapi easily retook her spot beside the Norwegian, kissing away the tears that still fell from her eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do this, Maria. I can’t believe it.”

The brunette just shrugged. 

“This is what’s right. You’ve raised her with me, you’re her mother, Ingrid. I didn’t think it was necessary for such a long time but last year at the hospital… it’s important to me that you know it only took me so long because it won’t change anything for me. You have always been her mother, ever since you walked into my life.”

Ingrid nodded, ready to reply before she heard the feet thundering back down the stairs, telling Mapi that they would have this conversation later. 

Shyly, Isabel handed over a neatly folded piece of paper and the photo book, sitting down on the other side of Ingrid as they flipped through it. 

It was how they spent the rest of the night, snuggled up together on the sofa, lots of tears shed as they flipped through the book of photos. 

Isabel fell asleep once they were done, the TV turned on as all three of them were emotionally exhausted, eyes puffy and faces red. Ingrid could only smile, her hand tangling up in Isabel’s head of hair as she slept peacefully on her mother’s lap. 

“My daughter. She’s my daughter, Maria.”

~~~~~~

It was a week of happiness in the Engen-Leon household, the Norwegian radiating positivity as she adjusted to her new role in Isabel’s life. 

Nothing changed, really, except for Ingrid’s security.

It wasn’t even something you could see from the outside, but Mapi knew her well enough to understand how much happier she was, like she had finally been relieved from a weight that she’d been carrying around for so long. It was a relief for all of them. 

The letter that Isabel wrote, however, had been left unread on her bedside table. 

It was in Norwegian, that much she knew. Apparently, the 10 year old had called up Caro to ask for some help with the language, making sure it was perfect before she gave it to her mother. 

It was a bit more than a week later, her and Mapi laying in bed one evening, Isabel fast asleep in her room down the hall. The Spaniard was scrolling through her phone, her spare hand lazily carding through Ingrid’s thick locks. 

The Norwegian was holding that folded piece of paper, staring at it like it held the secrets to the world. 

“Just open it.”

Mapi chuckled as soon as she store what her Norwegian was looking at, the familiar lined paper forever etched into her brain after such a big deal had been made about it. 

“It’s in Norwegian!” Ingrid smiled, looking over at Mapi. “Caro said I should prepare my tissues, Maria!”

“You would have cried if she said ‘I hate you Ingrid I wish you weren’t my Mama’ if it was written in Norwegian.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes at Mapi chuckled at her own joke, her phone dropping into her lap. 

“It won’t say that though. It will probably be heart wrenching because our girl is smart and has a unique way with words.”

Ingrid flopped backwards onto her pillow, sighing dramatically. 

“I’m going to be sobbing, Mapi.”

The Spaniard could only shrug. 

“Probably.”

It took a few more sighs and a couple more minutes for her to open the letter, unfolding the piece of paper at a painfully slow speed, Mapi just rolling her eyes at Ingrid’s dramatics. 

But the brunette’s eyes glazed over as soon as she saw the first line, neat Norwegian printed onto the page. 

Dear Mama. 

And so the waterworks began. 

I haven’t called you Mama my whole life, but I don’t really know why. You’re my Mama, you always have been. When I talk to my friends, I’ll call you Ingrid, but I will always question why, I’ll question why I call you that. 

I know that Mami was the one who had me, that she didn’t mean to have me and was only left with me because the people who I was named after, Isabel and Luis, died. 

She always tells me not to say that she was left with me because it makes it sound like she didn’t want me, which isn’t true. 

But Mami never had the choice, even if she didn’t want me. She was left with me, a baby. I would have been a lot of work. But she loves me and I love her so it worked and I don’t have any memories of being sad. 

I don’t have any memories of that time at all, really. No memories of anything that happened before you came. 

You had the choice, Mama. You didn’t have to choose to be my Mama. You love Mami and she loves you of course, but she had a baby. You didn’t have to take me into your arms and immediately love me as much as you do. 

You could have chosen that you wanted nothing to do with me, you could have chosen to just be Mami’s girlfriend - a step mother who doesn’t really love her step-daughter. 

But you didn’t choose that. You chose to love me and I chose to love you. 

Somehow, it seems so much more special that way. 

You’ve been there for me my whole life. You took me to Norway with you, the first time I left the country without Mami. You would look after me when she was sad, take me to the park and distract me with toys and Baloo. You were the one who convinced Mami to let me on a skateboard and you were the one who realised that I didn’t like football, taking the pressure off me to succeed at the sport you both love. 

You have been to every school awards night, concert, play. You are always there and I always spot you because you always have such a big smile on your face, one that I like to think is reserved just for me and Mami. 

And I love you so much. You make me so happy and you always have. 

I can’t believe how lucky I am that you chose to love me like you do.

Lots of love,

Your daughter Is. 

The tears that had been pouring down her face were hitting her legs as she finished reading, Mapi’s arms pulling her close as she carefully folded the paper back up, putting it in the top drawer of her nightstand. 

“My daughter Is.” She whispered softly and if Mapi wasn’t right in her space, she wouldn’t have been able to hear. 

“Your daughter Is.” She confirmed, using her finger to gently wipe away her tears. “She loves you so much.”

Ingrid could only nod, words once again failing her. 

“We both love you so very much. We are both so grateful for you and everything you do to make our lives so much better.”

“I love you too, Maria.”

~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed! please let me know what you thought and send in anything you want to see :)

have a good day!

[calypsocolada]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME | g. tomioka

(this is part two! click here for part one)

synopsis: you left without saying goodbye, giyu needs to know why... author's note: hellllooooo. the reaction to part one of this story was incredible. i cannot thank any of you enough for your kind words seriously. this one is for all of you <3 (psst... to all the swifites, if you can point out two other song references besides rwylm you get a gold star) cw: ANGST (lol like there wasn't enough in the first part), blood, gore, spoilers about rengoku, HAPPY ENDING, not proofread wc: 4.2k

click here for my masterlist

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There was nothing more frustrating than lack of communication. As much as he wished he could read your mind, as much as he begged and pleaded to deaf ears you were just one hard shell to fully crack open. Though Giyu supposed he was probably the same. But at least he was making an effort. He thought you’d make one too. 

But as Giyu sat cross legged at a Hashira meeting he could meet all their eyes but yours. You didn’t spare him a glance like you spared him your time those few weeks ago. Almost a month and a half now and for some reason Giyu couldn’t stop counting the days, the hours and minutes. 

45 days since you knocked at his door. 

1,080 hours since you grabbed him, your cheeks wet as you pressed your lips to his. 

64,800 minutes since Giyu woke up in the morning to an empty bed. 

It never got easier. Each day was like this stabbing pain in his chest. A persistent feeling of desertion. He’d thought things had changed since that night. The night you cried and cried and kissed and kissed. 

He wrote you letter after letter but no response. Now here you were in the same room, in a room filled with others but Giyu only felt your presence. Like a heightened sense that haunted him so stunningly that he wondered if your lack of attention would actually kill him. As if he overdosed on it once and now he’d never be able to wean himself off you.  

You were so close, only maybe three feet from him but you felt worlds away. Could he have done something wrong? Showed too many of his cards too soon? Scared you off? Sure you reciprocated his kisses, in fact you were the initiator. But when it came to a verbal confession there was nothing for Giyu to latch onto. No words, just your actions. But your actions betrayed you. You treated him as if that night never even happened. For 45 days. It was like torture. To want something so badly, to have it for a fleeting moment then lose it. Giyu was losing it.  

“Mr. Tomioka?” Your voice was like a shot of ice through his veins. Giyu blinked the fogginess from his brain and cleared his throat. Your attention was on him. The room is empty. Giyu hadn’t noticed the meeting had ended. Didn’t notice everyone leaving. 

“Hmm?” He forced out, his eyes sliding to yours. Mr. Tomioka? Even before everything you called him Giyu. But now… you addressed him as though he was some stranger. A room alone, a room with you. He could say what was on his mind finally. 

“Did you pay attention in the meeting?” You asked. Giyu stared at you. You were looking at him. After 45 days of starving for your attention he found himself unable to act normally with it on him now. 

“Hmm…? Oh! Uh— yes…” Giyu stuttered out, feeling hopelessly useless. Feeling utterly ridiculous. 

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said coldly, turning to leave. 

“Wait-“ Giyu stepped forwards. Tomorrow? What was tomorrow? A talk? An explanation for your icy treatment? You turned, threw him a look over your shoulder. It was like you read his confusion. As if you knew he paid zero attention in the meeting. 

“The training grounds near your house. We’ll meet at sunrise.” You said and then your eyes lingered a second before you turned and left. Giyu found himself stuck still even a couple minutes after you left. Like his legs had forgotten their purpose. In fact, those 45 days he’d been right where you left him. A hopeless, nearly broken man. Stuck back in the time he had you. Haunting his house and his training grounds and everywhere he stood. You seemed to have moved on, seemed to maybe have even forgotten about the fleeting moment. Was that all it was to you? A fleeting moment? Maybe even a severe lapse of judgment? Something like that couldn’t have been a declaration of love. Giyu could and had been thinking himself in circles. He wished he said more. Wished he said less. Ran through everything over and over. Replayed it so often the record was starting to skip.    

Giyu tossed and turned all night. He didn’t sleep even a wink. You wanted to talk. Maybe explain things. Giyu knew whatever it was that kept you so far from him he was willing to work through to find a solution. He was willing to crumble your walls. Or wait. If you’d just verbally ask him to wait he’d pause his life forever for you. He’d become a ghost. Time could come and go on for everybody else but he’d wait diligently for you. He’d wait like the moon and chase after you like the sun. If only you’d just give him a damn reason. 

Giyu turned, the moon shining through a crack in his curtains. His eyes drifted to the empty spaces beside him. The same space he’d left empty since you vacated it. With splayed fingers he touched the spot of his bed and willed himself to remember that night. As if he’d ever forget it in the first place. He was restless so he moved out of bed and to his desk. He pulled out a few letters. Some from Rengoku and some from Kagaya. Both with the same topic. Giyus favorite topic. You. 

Giyu carefully slid open the first letter he ever received from Rengoku. He felt a pang just merely looking at the older man’s handwriting. All jagged and loud. He smiled as he reread its contents. 

-

Good morning Mr. Tomioka!

I was shocked to see you had written to me but pleasantly surprised! I am doing well, how’re you? I heard you are well on your way to becoming the next water hashira! How exciting! I know we’ve only met a few times but you have the demeanor of a water hashira. You seem cool and collected! You have a calm voice and although it’s hard to hear you sometimes I still appreciated our talks! About your interest in my tsuguko; she is doing well. She is very fiery. I could see her becoming the next fire Hashira. She sort of reminds me of you in the way she speaks. Though sometimes I can get her to raise her voice and it’s quite adorable. It would be lovely if you visited her. I’m sure she’d love to see you again after you saved her life. But if you’re too busy that is fine, I can always just write you with updates about her. Maybe I can even try and get her to write you a letter sometime! Anyways, Mr. Tomioka, hope this letter finds you well! 

With regards, Kyojuro Rengoku

-

Giyu laughed at the ink splotch on the paper next to Rengoku’s name. It was a common theme in his letters. Probably wrote sort of hard. Giyu carefully closed the letter and opened the last letter Rengoku ever wrote. 

-

Good morning Mr. Tomioka! 

Congratulations on becoming the water Hashira! The other hashira’s seemed sort of bummed you weren’t able to make it to the little celebration but I knew that kind of thing just isn’t your style so I decided to write you this letter instead. I knew you had a fiery streak somewhere in you! We all do! I have a mission coming up and saw that you have one too! I would like for you to let my tsuguko accompany you on your mission! I think she could use a bit of quiet in her life. She’s always go go go! Just like me! But I think you two could get along very very well, Mr. Tomioka! I think she thinks of you fondly. I once asked her about the boy who saved her and I am pretty sure she blushed! Ha-ha! Don’t be disheartened by her cold attitude, as long as she doesn’t verbally attack you that means you might be in her good graces! She’s come a long way, I see sparks of softness in her that I hope you’ll appreciate. She loves miso soup and sweet potatoes, she gets it from me! She loves to read and can’t get enough of the ocean so be sure after your mission to take her swimming. It could be a date! You think I don’t know why you often write asking me about her, right? I’ll pretend I don’t! She’s not much of a talker like you but she listens and remembers everything you say. That mind’s like a steel trap! Please take care of her and I’ll tell her to play nice though I’m not sure she knows how to! Ha-ha! Only kidding. Be safe, Mr. Tomioka and good luck on your first mission as a Hashira! 

With regards, Kyojuro Rengoku

-

Giyu still blushes as he reads the letter. Rengoku knew Giyu’s intentions even though he was sure he was being discreet. He carefully folded the letter back up and as he did a hint of the rising sun peaked its way through his curtains. He sprung up from his seat. He couldn’t be late in meeting with you so he hurriedly got dressed and tumbled his way out of his home. He rounded the corner to the training field and stopped dead in his tracks. 

You were there. 

You were actually there. 

Your sword clutched tightly in your hand as you swung it to and fro, practicing against a ghostly opponent. Giyu watched you. He blinked for a moment and saw Rengoku, in the way you swung your sword, the way you moved, the way your haori flew behind you, like flames licking the air. Rengoku taught you everything you knew and you applied his fighting style with grace and ease. Giyu honestly had never seen you in a battle. And his breath halted as he watched the confidence in your demeanor. Watched the sure way you’d swing, the velocity and speed. The preciseness. You were definitely Rengoku’s tsuguko. In fact, maybe you were even more than that. Almost like his shadow, his predecessor. And you held that title with grace. Giyu almost felt choked up knowing damn well Rengoku was more than proud of you. 

“Just gonna stand there all day?” You asked, your swing coming through to slice clean through a practice dummy. One half falling to the dirt, kicking up dust. Giyu found himself unable to speak once again as you turned. That attention too much to bear. You hiked up your brow and pointed your sword in his direction. “Well, are you ready to spar?”

“Spar?” Giyu echoed as you nodded your head, walking like a predator towards him.

“Where’s your sword?”

“That’s why you’re here?”

“Why else would I be?” You asked, eyes daring him to mention things you clearly wanted to forget. Giyu blinked through the breaking of his heart. He’d never felt pain like this. Never knew someone could ignite such warmth then douse it in icy cold water. He never thought you of all people would stab him clean through. Giyu turned just as his emotions were too much to hide. He walked and grabbed his sword, waited a moment to try and gather his composure before returning back a few feet from you. 

There was something in your eyes. He knew this sight was probably the last thing every single demon that had crossed you had seen for themselves. Eyes like fire, you morphed in front of his eyes into the flames that danced with your techniques. 

You took the first swing, your movement like the flickering. Your strikes felt hot, as if his skin would sear completely off. Giyu controlled his feelings, he pushed them to the side and met your violence of fire with the calmness of water. Metal clanged, and although you’d killed him moments ago with your words you brought him straight back to life with the way you fought. You’d found yet another thing for him to fall in love with. 

Damn you. 

After several minutes passed and one final swing you both stepped back. It was clear it was a draw. Not a single time did someone pull ahead and leave the other in the dust. Each strike was met with an equal block. You two were an equal match. For a moment you two just stared at each other, dripping in sweat, the sun and heat finally rising. You reached up and wiped your forehead with the back of your arm and sighed.

“So it’s a draw.” You said and Giyu nodded his head. A silent moment passed before you pulled your eyes from his and walked to your stuff. Giyu watched. Watched you pack up your things and give a halfhearted wave to him as you walked back towards the road.

“That’s it?” Giyu called out suddenly. He swore he saw you flinch.

“Either Obanai or Shinazugawa will be here tomorrow for the same match.” You called over your shoulder. The cold shoulder you’d given him for so long. 46 days now. 

“That’s not what I meant.” Giyu took a step but you resumed walking. “What did I do?”

“Have a good day, Mr. Tomioka.” You said and the moment you were out of sight Giyu tore off after you. 

-

46 days ago you’d been laying next to Giyu Tomioka. You’d woke up early and in the morning light you could see his face again. He looked at peace as he slept beside you, his arms around you, his breathing light. You reached across the small expanse between you two and tucked his raven black hair out of his face. Giyu moved barely in his sleep and you yanked your hand away, shy as though he’d catch you admiring him. As though you hadn’t just spent the night together. Once he settled you gazed at him. Something, you knew what it was now, bloomed in your chest. Was this something you could truly have? To kill demons and go home to someone like him at the end of the day? Home… what would that even be like? What would that even look like for you? Slowly you sat up in his bed, covers falling from your shoulders, pooling at your torso. 

Everyone you had ever loved died horribly. You felt as though a curse was placed upon you. Penance for the deaths of your family.

Ever since Rengoku had died there was this thought that haunted you. A sort of prophecy you felt had cursed your very being. No matter how many times you thought about leaving Rengoku there was no way to ever go back and board that train with him. No way to deny his request and maybe even save his life. Would you have been useful or would you have been a hindrance? Would your presence have even changed a thing or were you just destined to love and lose? Your eyes flicked to Giyu, face barely illuminated by the sun rising. 

If you stayed in this bed would you watch him die as well? Just the thought made you physically sick to the stomach. You felt like a kid stuffed into a hiding place all over again. A helpless, useless kid.

If you let yourself love him and be with him, the pain of losing him might actually do you in for good. And if you left right now… would that save his life from the curse placed upon you? 

Turns out you're quite self sabotaging after all. And by morning you slipped out of his house, tearing back towards the inn, running with your tail between your legs.

-

“Do I not deserve an explanation?” Giyu called out to you, you'd almost made it to the end of his house. You paused, turning.

“Leave it.” You answered lethargically. 

“Did you even read my letters?”

“What letters?” You asked and when your eyes found his face the utter pain on it made your stomach drop. 

“I wrote to you… many times. Your crow should’ve delivered it to you.” Giyu explained, his face utterly disheartened. You glanced at your crow, who’d been curiously pecking at some bugs in the distance.

“I never received them.” You answered and clenched your jaw. You deserved to see him hurt. The pain you caused him was something you wouldn’t let yourself look away from this time. Giyu haori swayed slightly in the wind, he couldn’t meet your eyes. 

“Tell me what to do.” Giyu says and you blink at him, your brows furrowing. 

“What?”

“I’ll wait. I’ll let dust collect over my life until you wish to have me back.” 

“I don't want that.” You said with a start. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself back into some composure. “I want you… to… go on ahead.” Slowly Giyu raises his eyes to meet yours. 

“What do you mean?”

“I could never feel the same way you feel for me. So I want you to move on.” You said and kept your eyes glued to him as you said it. You didn’t let one smallest ounce of pain show on your face.

“Why?”

 “Because I’m not worth dying over.”

“I’m not worth dying over, Master!” You screamed, pain coursing through you. You watched Rengoku surpass his limits, a demon pushing him far past them. The same demon that had gotten the jump on you moments ago. The man couldn’t hear you. You stumbled forwards, blood dripping from a wound somewhere on your head, the blood getting in your eyes. You stumbled, losing your footing, your sword clattering against the stones out of your grip. “Rengoku, please! Run while you still can!” You screamed, coughing up blood as you crawled towards the fight. Your breathing labored, black ink splotched in your vision. Take me! You thought hopelessly, take me and not him! 

“Y/n? Come on, kid, wake up.” You blinked awake. Your entire body ached, drowsiness threatening to take hold of you. Where were you just now? You must’ve passed out from the pain. “Ah, there she is.” A blurry redness kneeled beside you as you blinked until you could see properly. “You’re awake.”

“Master?” You coughed as Rengoku smiled down at you. 

“Tough battle, huh? You did great out there kid.” Rengoku said proudly. “You mastered a few of those moves I taught you, it was incredible.” He recounts.

“I-- lost.”

“Hush now. That demon was even tough for me to kill. You did the best you could.” He says reaching for you, ruffling your hair.

“Y-you almost died,” You choked out, Rengoku’s hand paused on your head. “I-- Master I don’t ever want to be a burden to you.”

“You are no such thing.” Rengoku admonishes, giving your cheek a sharp and playfully pinch. You gasp in surprise, rubbing your cheek. “You think too dark sometimes, kid.”

“But-- Master… I’m not worth dying over.” You say, looking down. Rengoku grabs you by the chin.

“You don’t get to decide that. I do. And I decided that you’re worth saving.” He looks at you intensely to get his point across. You part your lips to argue but slowly close them. “Now enough of this, we won, let’s celebrate!”

“What do you mean?” Giyu walks closer to you, his voice has an edge to it. A worried and sharp edge. “Are you unsafe?”

“That’s not…” You trail off, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. “I’m giving you an out.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Mr. Tomioka-”

“Don’t. Please don’t call me that.” Giyu lamented, his expression pained. 

“You’d be wise to just move on.”

“I can’t. I won’t”

“You can, you should.” You growled. This reminded you so heavily of the night you stormed out of his house and you two fought in the road. You were pretty sure this was almost the exact same place. You gave an inch that night but you were trying desperately to take it back. No matter how much this hurt it would hurt even more if your curse killed him. You had to remind yourself of that. Of the thing that possessed your life. 

“Give me a reason.”

“My past should be reason enough for you.”

“What do you mean? Speak it plainly for me.”

“It’s obvious. I’m fucking cursed, Giyu!” You hadn’t expected it but ever since that night you cried you couldn’t stop. Every little thing made you cry now it was annoying. You cried when you left Giyu in the morning. Cried in your inn. Cried when you arrived back at your empty house, the taste of miso soup and potatoes wrecking your senses. Years and years of it being stored up and the dam broke. You felt like a little kid but there was no way around it. Maybe if you tried being truthful Giyu would leave. “I hid while my family died and because of it I’m cursed. I thought I could move on. Rengoku was like family to me. I let him in. I trusted him. I loved him. I let my guard down and my curse took him. And I-- I won’t let it take you okay so just do me this favor and let whatever you feel for me die.” You forced your eyes to his. Angrily wiped the tears from off  your face and looked at him intensely. “I am begging you.” Giyu looked at you, his eyes scanning your face. He walked and walked forwards until he was directly in front of you. His hands reached out, ever so gently sliding over either side of your jaw, his thumbs wiping the tears from your face. Deja vu gripped you so intensely. He’d done this same thing before. He leaned close, so close your breath hitched in anticipation of a kiss. But he stopped, mere centimeters away.

“You are not cursed.” He lets his words sink in. His eyes staring ardently into yours. Your breathing stopped, like you’d forgotten how. That dangerous beat of your heart started up again. There’s something to be said about someone that will tear themselves apart just to keep away from the one thing that could make them happy. You were the biggest component of that. It was like you craved hurting yourself. Craved punishment for crimes you never committed. Giyu pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You didn’t kill your parents and you have to stop blaming yourself for it.” His whispers as you pull back slightly, looking as though you’d been slapped. He knew it. Giyu knew you. You looked away but he forced your attention back to him. “They saved you because they loved you. You were a child. There’s no sin in that.” He presses another kiss to your face. You should back up. You needed to back up. You… you couldn’t. Giyu’s arms slide around you and you're pulled against his chest in a tight hug. “Rengoku didn’t die because he loved you, he died saving a world that had you in it.” There were the damn tears again. You closed your eyes as they sting you. “You don’t get to choose who loves you and it’s unfair to make decisions for them.” 

Rengoku’s words rang in your head.

You don’t get to decide that.

“I… I won’t make it if I lose you.” 

“Don’t say that. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you, look at me.” Giyu pulls back, you tilt your face up, eyes meeting his. “If you don’t want to lose me then fight for me, stop running, I’m begging you.” You looked up at him. There was no point in trying to build walls, not when Giyu always knew a way around them. You spent a long time in your own head. For once… you decided to let someone else make the calls. If even your most self destructive ways didn’t scare him off then it’s obvious that no matter what you did you couldn’t scare him off. 

“Alright.” You intoned softly. The utter hope on Giyu’s face was quick to show. “I’ll stop running.” 

“Promise me this time. Promise I won’t wake up and you're gone.”

“I’m sorry. You deserved better.” You breathed out, guilty.

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” He says fondly. You shake your head, eyes rolling.

“You forgive too easily.” Giyu kissed you then. No warning. Just pure want. It was the kiss of someone who’d been counting the seconds you’d been gone. Sickly sweet. Of course he’d forgive you quickly. When he pulled back he pressed his forehead to yours. “Give me your word. That you’ll give us a try.”

“I promise.” You say without hesitation. 

Giyu kissed you again, this time slowly, passionately. He tangled his hands in your hair and you melted. He was going to be the death of you. Though you supposed you shouldn’t think that way. You could settle on him being your near death experience then.

-

When the morning dawned and Giyu opened his eyes for a moment his bed felt empty. He rolled his head to the side and when his eyes fell upon you there was nothing in this world that could’ve been a better sight. He reached and softly tucked your hair out of your face. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his eyes fall back closed, knowing damn well when he woke up again you’d be beside him.

bonus: giyu's letters

-

Dear Y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well. I write to only beg for a moment of your time. If you regret what happened days ago then don't spare me your kindness. I long to know what you think. What you really think.

Please meet me at the training yard in two days time.

Giyu

-

Dear Y/n,

How're you today? I do not wish to bother you, I just need you to know that I care. We can forget whatever you want. I will pretend away the feelings I have if you want. Whatever you want it is yours. Just please write me back.

Giyu  

-

Dear Y/n,

I would like to speak plainly for once. I love you. You don't ever have to say it back, I just want you to know. That's all. I will stop bugging you because you do not owe me a thing. I hope you are well. If you need anything don't hesitate to reach out. I can be a friend. I can be whatever you want. Please take care of yourself.

With love, Giyu

-

[yoursinfulurges]

Enchantress

Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: You would guard your throne from vultures no matter the cost and so the games begins. In which Aemond Targaryen regrets making an enemy of his wife.

Aemond is a cheating hoe. No one wanted this I just really wanted to write some angst. As always your features and ethnicity is not mentioned, background is not specified but you are a highborn. After the Serpentine series I wanted something spicy.

Word count: 8.1k

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By nature you were a patient person, taking great diligence in ensuring emotions doesn't overcome your judgment. But as the hour grows late your forbearance for your husband had begun to wear thin. It nears twelve and you had been waiting for Aemonds return for well over three hours now. With every passing minute you find yourself drowning in madness as you draw a blank on where or what he was up to. Succumbing to the ill thoughts on your mind as the flickering dance and crackle of the fire floods your senses. You're tired, you're anxious and your ears are ringing yet you still sat unmoving. Why?

There was no doubt that the man in question confused you to no end, nevertheless you still made sure to act accordingly and play the part of his wife. Although you're finding it increasingly hard to upkeep the role of his good little lover when the man is hardly in your presence. It was true that your marriage with Aemond was one out of political leverage, but you still did your best to care for him. Always making sure your relationship was fostered and tended to in the hopes of something blossoming.

You had faith that he would grow fonder of you as the years went on, but with every passing day that thought was challenged. It had been a long journey but without fail you acted kind and loving towards him no matter the expense. Valuing your relationship with Aemond a great deal, you were willing to do anything for him.

Even endure his callous behaviors towards you.

It was no secret that the prince was rather displeased with your union. For a man that preached the importance of preforming duty, he was awfully bad at it. You had been wedded for almost half a year now and have yet to consummate the marriage. Not that you weren't willing to, the problem lies with your husband. It was plain to see behind closed doors that he did not take you seriously.

In his eye this marriage was a joke, you were but strangers at best due to his lack of effort. Now you know not of the origins of his distant behavior but you've tried your best to minimize them. Dragging Aemond off to accompany you on walks around the castle, asking him to join you for lunch; everyday without faltering you tried.

But to no avail, your attempts does little to dull the wall between you two. He doesn't interact with you unless it was mandatory or for show, displayed little emotions past cordial. And god forbid laying a hand on you was the end of the fucking world. Was this who Aemond Targaryen was? Cold and cynical? Deprived of all that makes a person human. Every time you looked at him he was a ghost, fading into the background slipping from your grasp. He was untouchable, invisible. His self-righteous aura creating a vortex around him.

The distance between Aemond and you had started to become apparent to the ladies in court. Everyday without fail they would voice their concerns, asking you if you were being mistreated. Of course you lie, a task that comes easy to you, easier than you thought it would since you had little ties with your husband. Though it makes you wonder if Aemond also found it easy to lie to you....

The thought gets lost on you as an intrusive sound rings through your chambers. Brows furrowing at the disturbance, why would Aemond feel the need to knock on your shared room? The train was rather absurd so it leads you into thinking that it wasn't him paying you a visit. Much to your disappointment. With confusion in your voice, you call out to the visitor.

"Come in." Anxiously bringing your palms together on your lap. Your fingers locked themselves in a manner of worry, squeezing tightly as you prepare yourself. Soon the door opens and in follows Ser Larys Strong. His pronounced way of walking evident as the cane hits the ground harshly. The sound announcing and intrusive, almost counting down the seconds before he reaches you.

"I am sorry to intrude on your private time my Lady, especially when the hour is so late but I fear this matter cannot wait till dawn." He smiles sympathetically although you do not like implications behind it. You notion for him to sit across from you, watching the scene carefully. You don't utter a word as he moves to take his place. Ser Larys's visits are always prompted.... And by the look on his face it reads that he knows something you don't... That fact slightly unnerved you...

"I thought this news would be best heard if it were from me.... From a friend..." Bullshit. Larys always had an ulterior motive, he liked cultivating favors from the court only for them to owe him in return. No doubt that he was a sick man that enjoyed manipulating others, finding power in mind games in a way that he cannot with the sword. You were far from friends but played the game together. He only viewed you so highly because you were one of the only people the didn't fall for his lures and cryptic words.

"I take it this news is not pleasant." Lifting a brow at him in question, you kept your manner strong and imposing. He swallows and nods his head briefly, averting his gaze from you to look at the floor.

"Earlier today.... Prince Aemond was caught indulging a servant girl in Harrenhal." He says the words carefully though no amount of safe keeping can withhold your anger. Larys words were vague but you understood clearly what he meant. Shaking in your seat, you calm yourself. Or at least tried to....

You were going to fucking kill him.

"Ah.... I see... Who else knows?" Your words come out strained. Tone cut and tense, implying that you were holding back an outburst as tears of anger slowly clouds your gaze. What did you honestly expect? Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, vision tunneling as rage began crawling up your center. For a moment your breath stills, the abyss captivating you before you snap out of it and focusing on Ser Larys once more. He says nothing as he watches the fire burn, avoiding your venomous stare.

"Just you and me." He nods slowly, finally looking at you, only to drop his gaze soon after. He was uncomfortable beyond measure... His mouth opens to say something once more but stops to take in your shape. You clutched at the chair with a murderous grip, nails digging into the stained leather. Slowly he met your unmoving eyes, taken aback by the poison swimming amongst them. Gods be good... That look never meant well. The tension was heavy and for a moment Larys feared for his own life. You were not sad nor disheartened, instead you were seething in hatred. The room fogs with something unpleasant as the walls welcomed the illness like an old friend. Such atmosphere was suffocating as he watched you shake in retribution, no doubt planning your next calculating moves.

Vengeance. That was all you wanted. Many questions plagued your mind, had you not been good enough for him? You've done all that you could to please him and yet he disrespect your name with his adultery. You honestly didn't know what to say, it wasn't like this was much of a shock to you since a part of you always had suspicions. But you dismissed those thoughts as nothing but intrusive and toxicant. Yet to hear the words out loud coming from a reputable man such as Ser Larys Strong was much different than you telling yourself. Larys was many things but he was not a liar. His words always had claim and a backbone, despite how distasteful the intentions behind them may be. You could not care less about what he wants to get out of you, what you want to know is what else he's keeping locked away. And what will it take to get him talking.

"The servant that caught them and sent for a raven was found killed under.... suspicious circumstances... I only received both letters now, of the girls retelling and of her death.... A dagger through the mouth what an awful way to go..." Larys speaks when you don't, watching the way you thought in silence. He wondered what you were thinking, for he was one of the only people that knew your true nature. You were a murderous woman, manipulative, vigilant, and vengeful... Behind those stupid smiles and shy fronts was an enchantress, turning the tides in her favor. And now an outsider trespasses on your waters. Larys knows more than anything that you were willing to guard your throne from vultures at any cost.

You didn't like coming second to anybody, and for a moment he prays for the prince...

"I understand that this must be difficult for you, but if you are ever in need... I'll be sure to be of service in this trying time..." You scoff at that, the sound reverberating through the room. There it was. The bait he dangles so tempting in front of foolish fish.

"At what cost Ser Larys, I am no fool. I know everything from you must always come at a price." Holding your chin up high, you crossed your arms and leaned back into your seat. Having calmed down a little, you plan a rainstorm of hell fire.

"Not this time... You see, this girl that had somehow managed to enthrall the prince.... She is a nuisance on my side so you can insure my allegiance is with you. As Lord of Harrenhal I make it a point to know everything and anything going on in my own castle, even if I'm not present. I can ensure you that I have eyes everywhere." You ignore the way your stomach turns at the thought of someone else captivating Aemond as you thought on his proposal. It would be quite useful to have someone with such connections on your side. Shaking your head as you corrected yourself. There were no sides nor factions, you were not at war with Aemond. Yet.

"Can you tell me the name of this girl?"

"She goes by Alys Rivers, you may know of her...." It was almost comical enough to force a laugh.

A bastard Strong... How truly ironic and cliche. It would seem that the very vendetta he had against his own nephews would be the cause of his own demise. The pain that rushed through you didn't burn anymore, instead it courses through your veins in bittersweetness, fueling your vengeance and need for revenge. You didn't care all that much about closure, instead looking for all the ways you can induce the same pain onto Aemond. You were patient to a fault, all the unwanted emotions manifesting into pettiness and spite.

To hurt Aemond Targaryen you must be precise and conniving, you couldn't afford any spill ups. In truth the stature he built of himself was great; intimidating, undying, a menace. But beneath all that you knew he was still the same little boy that got bullied for not having a dragon. Scars like that cannot be grown out of, especially when they've left such permanent imprints on him. You were not going to evoke One Eye Aemond who rides the largest dragon, but rather the young little boy he held so dearly to his heart. That was the Aemond you wanted to hurt. Not the man that gave you blank stares and barely spoke any words to you. Not the man that dares call himself your husband when he has not deserved the name. The neglected outcast freak, that was who you were going to murder.

How dare he choose her over you. Suddenly it clouds your vision. All the violence, the fire, the insecurities. Your inability to think clear, the pride and pain of being his wife. Your lust and distaste for the man that caused you such pain. It ruptures your heart. You would trade love for greed just to induce the same feelings onto him. Oh how you wanted to ruin him. Ruin her for him. By the end of it you wanted him begging at your knees, crying apologies. Who does Alys Rivers think she was to steal your husband away from you. And who does Aemond think he was to assume you wouldn't retaliate. Or perhaps he knew and simply didn't care... That was a common theme in your husband, not caring about you. He was more of a fool than you thought of if he thinks you were just going to stand for this and take it.

No. You wanted an eye for an eye. Or more plainly, a heart for a heart.

"Her existence threatens you." Speaking lowly as you projected your thoughts onto Ser Larys. You aren't the only one to have a reason to hate the aforementioned wench. You may be hazed with hatred but you are not blind. There was a reason Ser Larys chose to come to you instead of Aemond with this information. Without him you wouldn't have known anything, and surely the favor of a prince would be worth more than you could ever give him. Yet he came knocking at your door.

"I am the sole heir to my fathers title, if that bastard had somehow managed to persuade the prince then my very seat is challenged. An outsider amongst the natives. I need to ensure my status, my lady. Can I trust you on this." His words were frantic almost, his long brown hair falling over his face as he leaned in close. Ser Larys was pleading, in his own way...

"You can. Now, my friend... what will you have me do?" The smile that spread across your face was sinister as you prompted his guidance. Though it was more rhetorical, you knew what had to be done.

"Seduce Aemond. Capture his attention enough so that he begins to question his love for her." Love? Was that burned between them? Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you thought on it more. It wasn't a bad design, far better than you stabbing a knife through Alys in front of Aemond. Only one minor flaw.

"And how shall I manage to do that!? The man can barely look at me!"

"To the unseeing eye it appears that way. Though the amount of times I've caught his gaze lingering longer than it should is great. You are a smart woman y/n, I'm sure you can figure out a way to break through his barrier."

Could it be that all this time you just hadn't noticed him looking at you? Regardless that was irrelevant as you pondered your first move. You and Larys had the advantage, Aemond doesn't know that you knew of his infidelity. And as far as you're aware your image as his good little wife was still intact, so perhaps you would play into that role more. Aemond’s betrayal made you realize that you've grown stiff as a board. It dulls you as you realize that you've come to be the very woman you pray for. Desperately lost in their marriage. Endlessly dreaming, hoping one day Aemond would come around and play pretend with you. He was taking advantage of you without you knowing it. He sees your very being as something he can twist and turn in his palm like one of his daggers.

At a certain point he was bound to get cut.

To hurt Aemond Targaryen you must hurt that little boy. It had been weeks since your night with Ser Larys and silently you had been scheming. So far you remained indifferent, trying hard to make sure you aren't faltering by acting the same. It was a hard task that you've come to dread as you knew the cold truth behind his behaviors. At day he would be with you, by night he would be deep in her. You only began to notice the missing hours in your days and curse yourself for being so foolish. You thought long and hard about how you were going to approach the situation. Dissecting your husband under a magnifying glass whilst hiding behind timid smiles. And soon enough your praying and mute jealousy had manifested into the form of a golden haired beast bearing red and gold.

Ser Tyrin Lannister...

A handsome, charming young lord that has come to pay the crown a visit... Though you saw him for what he truly was, a prideful and egotistical man that's blinded by arrogance. The perfect pawn for your game. Truthfully, you only picked him out because he beared such acute resemblance to prince Aegon. The only difference in appearance was instead of the famed silver hair his was pure gold. You hoped that your choice of companion would strike a nerve with Aemond, seeing that he's spent so much of his youth being tormented by the image of the man.

And by the way he was glaring daggers at you and Tyrin, your expectations fall true. It was easy to manipulate the Lannister with sugar coated words and flirtatious giggles, the problem lied with Aemond taking the bait. Up until this point you were basically going off theory, but now you can trust that Aemond was a possessive man.

Your laugh rings through the room as you giggle at something Tyrin whispered in your ear. The man was indeed charismatic which made talking to him easy enough. If you hadn't diluted him to nothing but a playing piece you would have found yourself actually enjoying his company. You had been acquainted for quite some time now, ever since his first arrival, and everyday without fail you were with him. Slowly but surely you had began replacing Aemond with Tyrin in your life. It was him you went on walks with, it was him you dinned with. There was no doubt that Lannisters had vanity and he was aware of it, he was aware of how his gracious gifts won you over and softened you. Or so he thought. In weeks time you had managed to accumulate a collection of gold and ruby jewelries from the man himself.

Something Aemond has not taken kindly to, seeing the way his jaw would clench everytime you adorned the treasures. At this point you had purposely made a show of it, parading in a red and gold gown with massive ruby earrings dangling from your ears. All while you showcased a brilliant ruby and gold choker around your neck. You looked more like Tyrin's wife than Aemond's and perhaps that was your goal. Though honestly your endgame gets lost on you as you're having so much fun toying with him. No doubt Aemond had begun to pick up on your absence and it was hilarious to see. His worries and insecurities must've gotten the best of him because now you can't go anywhere without him trailing behind. He was always there, watching in silence, perhaps judging you but you did not care. The fact of the matter was, whatever you were doing was working.

"If you stare any longer I'm sure a fire will start to burn." Aegon says dryly from beside his brother, looking down at his empty chalice before placing it down all together. The elder rolled his eyes at the familiar 'hmmm' that escaped Aemond as he opens his mouth to say something but he turns mute. Instead he narrowed his eyes at the sight.

Contrary to popular belief, Aegon was not a complete fucking asshole. Well... sometimes he wasn't... He sensed his brothers discomfort greatly and although he didn't want to pry, he wanted to know what laid within the inner workings of Aemond's mind. Call it care or intrigue, but he loved gossip like an old widowed wife. Fact of the matter was, Aegon Targaryen was painful self aware and it didn't take much to figure out that Tyrin Lannister was him in lions clothing. Of course Tyrin was him if he actually tried and excelled at things. His drunken habits aside, he wanted to know why his sister in law was so taken by him with golden hair....

"He looks like me..." Aegon turns to his brother only to notice him swiftly walking away at his words. He turns to the man once more, brows pulling in contempt. Maybe he should have been born a Lannister....

To say that Aemond was irritated was an understatement. It was all so ridiculous. The fact that you were throwing yourself so carelessly for a man such as that imbecile. All Lannisters were dazzling armors with nothing truly potent inside. They were blinded by shine and glimmer just as much as everyone else was from their looks. He wouldn't admit it out loud but the resemblance Ser Tyrin had to his brother was uncanny. And he wouldn't dare admit that these unbecoming feelings were derived from that fact alone. Call Aemond what you will, a bitter husband, a possessive man, but he did not like what was playing out in front of him.

Over the passing weeks you had devoted your attention to that man and him alone. From the moment you awoke you were dressed in red and gold, throughout the day you were by his side. He no longer saw you and you no longer sought for his attention. He thought it'd be nice, to finally get you off his back but everyday he grows increasingly impatient. Were you not his wife? He knows he doesn't have a proper claim over you especially with how he's been acting but he still owned his emotions. And he was allowed to feel however he wanted to. Although he doesn't speculate any infidelity from your end, mainly because you weren't the type in his eye, it was plain that you were taken by a lion. Whether you knew it or not, you were dancing with a beast and Aemond would not take such defeat.

In all honesty, he's certain you aren't fucking Tyrin. Now perhaps that was just wishful thinking fueling his denial but you weren't exactly the type. All your marriage he's known you as nothing but dull... The perfect embodiment of who his parents wanted him to marry. Kind, respectable, a push over... In his opinion you were devoted to a fault. Seeing you as nothing but mindless doll who had no other choice but to fall in line and agree with whoever owned them. Hence why when seeking companionship he purposely chose some the exact opposite of you. Alys was older by a few years and had all the experience he craved. It was no question why that he sought for her instead of you. Word around the castle was that you were thought to be too pious to succumb to sins of temptation unless duty was in order.

He hadn't meant to grow so attached to Alys but she was exhilarating. Everytime they were apart he yearned for her body. She was captivating and alluring in all senses, intoxicating him. With long brown hair and a figure that could make the gods envious, she held him with a death grip. His Alys. Aemond knew that what he had with her wasn't love but more so addiction, but he didn't care what it was just as long as he got to have more of it. The differences between you and Alys were stark to see, you were at polars end. But what drawned him to her was the fact that she was so aware of her touch. He liked women that knew how to wield a weapon, and he quite honestly couldn't picture you doing the same. They called her many names for her beauty, searing her as a witch for her dominion over man.

If he wanted an enchantress you would give it to him. You would be better than Alys in every way imaginable. If he wanted someone who can satisfy him then you would drive him into the brink of madness with your touch. You wanted to suffocate and flush out Aemond Targaryen till he was no more than a shell. It started off slow. Switching your clothing in favor of another, something more hugging and accentuating. Your old gowns so colorful and modest were now replaced with darker tones that showed off your body well. It was an odd switch but you felt more comfortable this way strangly enough.

Then you traded innocent stares for something more bidden, your once doe eyes turning siren as you realize the effects of you had. Perhaps Aemond cheating on you was a blessing in disguise. You only now realize how good it felt to be wanted. All throughout court, men and women a like would fall in line for you. They would bow if you commanded so. You looked like someone to be taken seriously and not so much like a walking virtue. Everytime you entered a room eyes would be on you, the silent respect your new aura demanded was intoxicating. You knew who you were and what you were capable of, it was time for them now to know too.

It was empowering. You felt Immortal and unchallenged. To have them speak so nervously to you, the shy stares and permanent blushes. Your new change had prompted many curiosities but what captures people so was your attitude. Cunning, sly and quick witted, all the aspects of your being that you suppressed. You had never felt this in control all your life, like the tides were moved by your will.

All your life you've been taught to be one way despite your true wishes. You painted yourself as the image of what a lady was supposed to be without understanding why you were doing it. Or who you were doing it for. Perhaps this is why the change was so liberating, because you no longer chose to hide yourself. Maybe this was who you were all along and just needed a push to embrace it. You no longer felt like you were wearing a mask and truthfully you don't think you could ever put it on again. Not when they all doted around you. Not they all craved for you. Not when you had such power over desires.

They all fell into line... all but Aemond.... but you had something special for him. For now you let his judgment cloud him. You doubt that he's picked up on your facade faltering. It was quite strange to embrace the very values your teaching went against. Sensuality, unkept emotions, temptation. Having been guided to act one way only to realize that people yearned for the other more. To switch from being subdued to domineering. You no longer let people tell you what to do and how truly inebriating it was.

                                           〄

"You are intoxicating...."

You know not how much time has passed, only consumed on Tyrin's lips as he grasped your body all over. Laughing when his teeth grazed your neck, you threw your head back in bliss. Maybe this was what the Septa was trying to keep you away from, the overwhelming sensations of sex. It rushes through you, sending your skin on fire in it's wake. God, he knew how to please you so. Giggling into your ear as his golden locks curtain the sinful things he whispered, Tyrin's fingers expertly yanks your skirt up. You let him pin you to the bed, a stupid smile spreading across your face. If such an act was so bad then why on earth did it feel so good?

How exhilarating it was to be desired, to be wanted and fondled with care. And to think, all this time you had spent rotting away in your bed chambers waiting for Aemond. If he would not satisfy you then you would satisfy yourself, fulfillment taking the form of a rogue lover. Perhaps it was messy to set your eyes on the men of the court but maybe that's what you wanted. You like the thrill of getting caught, liked the rumors that murmured through the halls. Although you hadn't slept with anyone but Tyrin, you couldn't contain yourself from teasing the occasional lord and lady. Naturally, word got around of your effects and of you and Tyrin's speculated affairs. And not so long after, word finally traveled to your dear stupid husband. Though it wasn't until he caught you in the middle of the act did he finally take it seriously. Up until this point they were but toothless claims, not believing his tight laced wife would ever be capable enough to find her own back bone.

"Faster.... faster..." You say through half lidded eyes, blurry vision locked onto the man in between your legs. Your fingers intertwined with his golden hair as you guide his head at your will. Body heaving and grinding up against his mouth. You pull at your skirts more to get a better view of his face.

All was falling into place and you would make your first strike as footsteps approached up the hall. You were nearing ecstasy as your eyes stay trained onto the door. You had perfectly timed everything and in a manner of seconds you would land such a blow so harsh that it would shatter Aemonds views of you. His boring and dull, obedient little wife coming undone by a man that was not him. You suppress a moan as Tyrin slips his middle finger in you, fucking you in and out as his lips wrap around your swollen clit. Almost there, almost there....

Oh it was all too much yet not enough at the same time. It floods you, sending you over the edge as you desperately grasp onto the bed covers. And at the sound of the door opening you let out a series of gasps turned moans as you lock eyes with the cause of your downfall. The look on his face was satisfaction enough, but you wanted more. Eyes closing in bliss as your head falls onto the bed, a laugh so sinister rings through the room. You pull your skirt over to hide your exposed skin as you smile up at Tyrin. Drawing him close to place a long loving kiss on his lips, you nod your head out the door, whispering empty promises of later. Aemond watches the whole exchange, mouth clenched and fists balled. As the man walked past him and out the door Aemond had to physically stop himself from mauling him and setting him on fire.

There was no doubt about it, he was angry. Shaking in place much like you had in your seat weeks ago. He didn't know what these emotions were blossoming in his chest but he didn't like it. It burned in a way so violent he fears that a hole may form in his chest. He does nothing for a few moments, simply standing in place eyeing you like a predator to it's prey. You do the same, putting all your body weight on your elbow as you laid on the bed unmoving. If he expected a stream of desperate apologies to fall from your mouth then he was not going to get it. You looked at eachother with much venom and alcohol. The gratification you got coursed through you as the image he had witnessed stayed forever burned in his brain.

Good. You wanted him to remember that forever. Much like you'll remember his actions towards you for eternity. Suddenly you were angry. Angry at him, angry at his fucking Alys, angry at Ser Larys. Snarling in hate as your gaze hardens you force yourself to speak.

"Get out." The words were cold, and for a moment Aemond flinches as it echoed through the walls. He does what you command, harshly shutting the door behind him and you fall onto the bed once more.

What had you done?

You were getting even. You wouldn't be here if he hadn't have provoked you first. Truthfully, you didn't know what scared you more, the fact that you could have potentially ruined your marriage or how absolutely addicting it was to inflict pain onto him. One things for certain though, you weren't done.

Aemond didn't know what to feel. He was a mess of emotions, lashing out at anything and everything in his way. A part of him knew that this was only fair yet why did it hurt him so bad? He thought he didn't care about you, thought you were a mere pawn in this game but it appeared that all this time you were playing him. All of it is a mystery to him as he begins to think on your relationship more. What parts of you were actually real, which was really you and which was his wife? Were your affections for him true and had he hurt you so? All this time he thought you were playing a role, or maybe you were. Because the girl laying on that bed laughing like the stranger was not his wife.

No, she was a demon. A succubus getting off on his pain. All of it is so confusing, the bruises you left dragging him down into the depths. Yet why did it excite him a little... Watching you like that.... Aemond feels as though he couldn't breathe, the remaining fragments of his heart shriveled at the thought of falling victim to weakness. He would not allow this, he wouldn't allow a man like Tyrin Lannister to best him and steal you away. The sorrow he felt was akin to an old friend, the bittersweetness that plagued his soul reminded him of his youth. This was a feeling he promised himself he would never endure again. The feeling of being less than and not enough. He had failed you. He had failed you so bad that you had to go seeking for another. Now he knew that he was being a hypocrite on that but he was vulnerable.

Being vulnerable was not something Aemond Targaryen was used to.

〄

"You aren't to see him again." Aemond yelled, trailing after the girl as you entered your shared chambers. The space thankfully empty as you ignored his impending attitude. Your breath quickens as you find yourself caught in a rather unpleasant situation. It had been merely an hour since that gurly sight with Ser Tyrin Lannister, and Aemond finds himself losing all remaining composure he had left with you.

"Huh?" There was something rather vexing about your tone that proved to be daggers in Aemond's ears. The way you expressed such profound boredom and taciturn, as if this conversation was an inconvenience to you. You displayed an tired exposure that puzzled him to no end because the confrontation has yet to begin. Your slack demeanor and annoyed undertone was both riddling and infuriating to Aemond.

"Ser Tyrin Lannister, you aren't allowed to see him again!" Deciding to forgo any avoidance, Aemonds tone was cut clean. He told you how it was, and he did not care about preserving feelings when you were showing such childish behavior. You would either accept never seeing that man, or any man for that matter again, or Aemond would turn to more extreme measures.

"Well... who knew it was possible to evoke such emotions from you. And here I thought you were incapable." Aemond's eye widen in shock as you put on an uncharacteristic display of theatrics. You scoffed and silently berated him with your inflection. This was a side of you he's never seen before. It was a tiny probe that was meant to provoke him by angling into his worries in a brash and unnecessary way. Aemond didn't know whether or not you were intentionally trying to anger him, but he couldn't find it in himself to care if it was deliberate or not.

"...I beg your pardon?" His words wry and barren with any emotions, genuinely taken aback.

"Well then kneel and start begging." You turn to him sharply, backing him against the door as he looked down at you in shock, yet you don't back down.

"You can't tell me what to do. But if you wish to keep believing that you have some sort of power over me, I will try my best to be more discreet with my partners." You wave your hand at him, as if done with this conversation but he was far from finished.

"I will not have you acting like a whore y/n! You are my wife and mine alone!" Aemond did not mean to call you that but as the words slip from his lips he soon finds himself regretting it. Watching the way you hesitated for a moment, a flash of hurt gleaming on your face before turning angry. He knew men have called their wives much worse but not him. His mother had always made sure he knew how to treat women. If only she knew how that back fired...

A whore....

He thought that you were a whore......

Normally you wouldn't let such meaningless words effect you so but that was exactly it, it wasn't  meaningless. Not when it came from the mouth of the person you once thought the world of. Aemond used to be everything to you, and to hear that coming from him was disheartening to no end. Yes you knew that he was just angry because you pushed him so, but that fact became irrelevant as you begin to feel claustrophobic from your emotions. You felt frail, burning with a thick blanket of insecurities and rage constricting you, like a greedy serpent, ready to prey and corrupt you whole. You felt like Alice, falling into a dark rabbit hole of anxiety and panic, despair beginning to pull you down. It was all too much, and you suddenly began to feel so small. Your once defiance now subdued and replaced with the image of a shaking girl maddened. You felt afraid... not of Aemond but of your emotions...

Compose yourself, you were not going allow such disrespect and you were not going to fall into your old ways again.

"Don't play the fool, Aemond. You started this. Quite honestly what did you think was going to happen?" You yelled firmly in his face, trying so hard to push your emotions away. But thoughts of Alys tainted your mind. He would never speak to her this way. He would never act this way around her. You let the bitterness hug and empower you. The same need to hurt him reignited.

"I am simply playing the game that you started." You were reticent but in a prolix and unnecessary way. You would not reveal that he had hurt you so. Aemond opens his mouth to say something but doesn't for a few moments.

"What prompted this change..." He sounded desperate, his words breaking as he desperately searched for an answer.

"I don't know! Maybe now I don't feel the need to hide behind a mask anymore." You say to him honestly. This need for revenge and affinity for spite and pettiness, it had always been there. Aemond just didn't look at you long enough to notice it.

"I'm tired Aemond. I'm tired of doing my best to please you only for it to not be good enough!"

It wasn't just about you or Aemond being possessive anymore, it was the fact that you had reached your end. Was it so wrong to want a partner that actually loved and cared for you? Was it so wrong to want to be loved? The more you thought the more empty and hollow you felt. You can feel your soul decaying all together as anxiety crept up on you. He didn't want you.... The little voice in your head spoke. He thinks Alys is better than you..... stop... Why do you try so bad? because I must... You don't deserve to be with him... yes I do... No you don't... The voices in your head taunted, feeling feverish and flushed, you took a step back from Aemond. Suddenly afraid to be too close to him. But it did no help to calm the mean words the whirlwind through your brain. It picked at you, in a way that the thought of Alys couldn't but funny enough it was the personification of her plaguing your mind.

He doesn't think you're good enough...

I don't think you're good enough...

He doesn't think you're good enough...

We don't think you're good enough...

It's not just her anymore, the voice that invades your head is your parents speaking to you..... Then it's the King and Queen screaming... And after that it's Aegon and Helaena laughing at you...

It's Aemond talking down to you, —it's everything, it's everyone, all at once, all-consuming, suffocating and demanding. And suddenly the ability to hear is ripped from you; it's nothing. You're forced into a pliable mass being sullied, your body isn't yours anymore. It's a vessel of flooding anxiety and negative thoughts.

"I want somebody that loves me...." You say, looking at the man with such betrayal.

Be strong....

"I want a happy life with a husband that can actually stand to be in my presence. I want children of my own to fill the hole you left." You spoke after a short minute, your voice small and fragile, pleading... Aemond watches you shake and cry from where you stand. He had done this to you...

"I have spent so long loving you but that love has never served me..." Your words were soft, a timbre of spite concealed with broken confidence. You hated this... hated how you got in your own head and ruined your own self esteem... Pain feeding off your scorched heart and the embers of your love for Aemond. It was agonizing... agonizing to watch him look at you cry like this. But perhaps he needed to see you this way.

He had hurt you so badly and the moment he finally got a taste of his own medicine he ordered you to stop. It was the consuming fear of not being enough for him that killed you so, the thought of not being able to live up to the expectations. And for Aemond to stand there and call you a whore when all you ever did was try to love him.

"Forgive me my dear wife... I did not know that you have been suffering so badly all this time. Had I known...." He softens for a moment, trying to get you to understand whilst failing to consider that you didn't need to, he did.

"But you did! You knew and you still went off in search for something I cannot give you. Had you have known would it have changed anything?" You scream in broken anger and despair.

"No..."

You never learn, hearing it in your own head was a lot different than hearing it out loud. It will never be the same, it will always be ten times worse. Aemond had just confirmed your words. Of course you knew that he thought this way but it hurt a lot more. Just like that night with Ser Larys. Your shoulders slump in defeat, frowning as tears began to prick at your eyes. Aemond takes notice of this, swiftly cupping your cheeks with his large hands and forcing you to look him.

"No, because either way you would have been discontent. I cannot give you the life that you wanted." Yet you can give it to her?

"Why not!?" You yelled with such anger and rage, ripping his hands off you. Your voice echoing through the room as you cussed the boy out. You were frustrated beyond measure and above all else heartbroken. Was it truly too much to ask for? You would lying if you said it wasn’t nice having him treat you like this. Maybe weeks ago you would've swoon at the thought of his hands caressing you. But that was then and this was now.

"I am not made for love..." You fear that you can slay Vhagar with the great efforts it takes you now to remain calm. That was his excuse? A pitiful one at that. He had you standing there.... sad and broken... and all he can come up with was that love wasn't in his nature? Pain is the perfect word to describe this sensation oppressing your chest at those words. This doesn't stop you from peering up at him in question. You felt a calling to yell at him but you couldn't, no matter how badly you wanted to you. Staying baffled, every cry dying in the back of your throat. Your visage contorting in somber at Aemonds blasphemy.

"I don't believe you!" You yell at him, pushing at his chest when he tries to hug you. You break down in his arms, collapsing onto the floor as you weep into him. Aemond desperately held you close, oh what has he done to you.... He felt a myriad of emotions wash over him. Guilt, sadness, shame... He was ashamed he pushed you to this point. So he held the woman he barely knew well enough to call his wife.

"Tell me Aemond! Does your heart belong to another? Tell me now, please and I'll stop." You didn't know what you meant by stop. Stop trying? Stop loving? But if he said the words you would end it so. Aemond looks down at you, hugging onto the portrait that was once his wife.

"No! No one has captured my heart, those who came second to you, they mean nothing. They are nothing..." He says quickly, his words ringing truthful. He didn't know what prompted this new change but he panicked at the thought of losing you.

"Prove it to me." You whispered slowly. Uttering the words in a tone so cold and firm, your gaze locks onto Aemond's. Your wide eyes morphing into something else as a small smirk pulls at your lips. Distraught gone from your face as the water flow of tears halt.

"Bring me the head of Alys Rivers."

"How do you know..." He looks at you in shock for a moment, your expression ridden of distress and replaced with something sinister.... Watching his expression carefully, you place your hands on his shoulders and leaned into his ear.

"Do it and I will be yours again." It came out as a pur, a tempting whisper urging him, and Aemond found himself liking the way it sounded. That was Aemond's cord. He was as possessive as he was jealous. Much like you, he didn't like being second to anyone, but would that be enough. Turning your head to meet his gaze, it would be so easy to kiss you but he keeps a firm hold on your waist.

"If not then I will take it myself." Nodding your head briefly, you remove his arms from around you. Standing up, you walk over to your shared bed, wiping away the rogue tears before sitting down. Aemond's brows furrowed in confusion, you were much more composed now and hidden behind your eyes was a sense of coldness.

"It appears that I have much to learn about you my lovely wife. But If it will please you then as you wish." Aemond stands soon after you, nodding his head as he planned to make amends.

"You're willing to kill her just like that?" Turning your head to him slightly, you questioned where his loyalty lied.

"I told you she means nothing to me... Did you think otherwise?" His sly expression displayed a certain vainglory that caused you to turn away. So maybe you had thought otherwise but your insecurities had to come from somewhere.

"If you're lying to me Aemond I will have your other eye." Threatening may not be the answer but you liked the hesitancy it triggered from him.

"I suppose this is my fault.... you don't trust me." Nodding his head as he walked slow steps towards you, Aemond kneels down in front of the bed and takes your hands in his.

"You have given me every reason not to trust you." With a stiff lip, you turn from him.

"I know... But let me make it right." Guiding your chin with his fingers to make you look at him, you noticed a hint of regret and shame swimming in his eye.

"The road to forgiveness will not be easy." You tell him firm.

"I know... my love." You ignore the butterflies that awoke from that title and watch as he rose to grab his riding coat. And so it begins...

༺━━━━━━━━━༻༒༺━━━━━━━━━༻

Autho's Note:

Let me know if you guys want more! There's more to this story but I chopped it up into two parts because I wasn't done and I wanted to have something out for you guys. I swear to god I drop fics unannounce then dissappear for months lmao.

- Armoni

[yuri-is-online]

One Sided Love Triangles: Tokyo Debunker

Link to Twisted Wonderland Post

Because I hate when people have to lose. Though I'd be way more comfortable writing a normal love triangle for tdb than twst... there's a few of these bitches who could stand to be knocked down a peg or two.

Haru vs Peekaboo- betrayal never comes from your enemies does it. Haru wants to be happy you get along with his baby, and he's really grateful for your continued help in the anomalous animal sanctuary, really. He even originally found your interactions with Peekabo really cute! He's got a bunch of videos saved on his phone and everything but he can't help but feel just a wee bit bitter. He really wants to be the one with his head in your lap getting scritches and being told how cute he is. Something he'd never say to your face but whines about at the bar enough for Romeo to record and send to you. "For free?" Yeah for free he's had enough of this shit please come get your man MC.

Kaito vs Luca- this one is cannon to a degree I think... Kaito is deeply insecure about how much more confident Luca is around MC compared to him and how the girls on campus seem to like him more. The fact that he's so painfully oblivious doesn't help, meanwhile Luca is just overjoyed that his two best friends are in such a good relationship. You're genuinely perfect for each other, why all these secrecy and making him promise not to tell the other about the nice things you say? Isn't it natural to gush about your partner???

Towa vs Ren- Towa is such a pouty baby who doesn't fully understand his feelings and Ren is just happy to have a friend who understands the concept of a log in bonus. Neither of you fully realize that Towa is attempting to flirt, or would it be closer to say woo? All you know is one minute the two of you are casually chilling and talking about horror movies or something and then *BAM* Towa's thrown some flowers at Ren and pulled you into his lap. He's happy you wiggle to get comfy with him but very upset that you keep up your conversation with Ren. Stop being a good senpai and pay attention to hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim.

Tohma vs Leo- just hear me out. I don't think Tohma really gets jealous? He seems super secure in himself and his abilities so he doesn't have much of a reason to get whiny and silly over MC, that's your role in the relationship. And he knows, logically that this little video Leo uploaded is bait to test the security on campus but it doesn't stop him from damn near cracking his phone in half when he sees it. That's how Leo wants to play this little game? Well fine, Tohma hopes he's ready to be thoroughly humiliated. No one can flirt with another man's partner quite as well as a bitch with a monocle. Leo is totally unaware any of this for the most part, he just assumes the extra irritation he's picking up on from Tohma is because he keeps spying on him and Alan. The fact he keeps teasing MC doesn't even cross his mind, he's just doing that to irritate you.

... as a side note can you imagine how confused everyone would get if Leo and MC kept picking fights about their upcoming "divorce" when no one even thought they were ever technically together. Except for Ritsu who sits you down to seriously try to talk you in to let him being your divorce attorney and still doesn't fully get that it's a joke by the time you're done. Actually while I'm at it:

Leo vs Ritsu- where that's exactly your dynamic but Leo starts catching some genuine feelings when he tries to crack a joke about you cheating on him with your divorce attorney only to realize that makes him unironically angry. How dare you, after everything you've been through. Wasn't he he enough? You know he can't treat you like he can. And you're just like "what can't treat me wrong?" And then you have a very toxic make out session Sho has to hear both of you scream about later while he seriously considers taking up a drinking problem.

Taiga vs Haru- this game has one character named Haru (ginger, baby) and one named Haku (green, evil?) Which confuses me an unreasonable amount. I already mentioned I wanted a serious Taiga vs Haku love triangle... but Taiga vs Haru would just be silly. You have MC who loves anomalous animals and hanging out in Jabberwock and Taiga who hates emotional intimacy and his feelings for MC just as much as he hates the idea of you being with anyone else. And of all people why Harry? He thought they were friends... or cool at least even if he won't let him eat that chinchilla thing. And now he's got MC playing defense for it too, it's irritating. He already has to fight himself to remember who you are every time he sees you again and go through the annoyance of recognizing he's a bit in love and now he can't even break into the animal sanctuary without tripping over himself and paying attention to you instead. It's annoying and it's all Haru's fault for having everything he wants. (If you ask he'll say that complaint is about Peekaboo but Haru and Romeo know it's not.) Haru is just trying to get some help from a trusted friend he's so stressed out ;-;

Sho vs Jin- Sho and his excuses... he doesn't want to just invite you to hang out and he doesn't want to ask you to come help him with the food truck because you've got so much else to do. You deserve a chance to rest, and he wants to be who you come to do that with. But Jin... he'd make that so much easier if it was him wouldn't he? He's rich and connected, and you're so sweet he's sure you could thaw that frozen heart enough for him to see you as human and not a gopher. Sho knows you, the moment he started paying attention to you he saw you as a person. But he still hurt you... and Jin didn't really do that did he? Jin doesn't like Sho because he's in Vagastrom and he doesn't trust him with your safety. Sho might see a rival and a better option, but what he's really dealing with is MC's disapproving dad who can't stand that their boyfriend has a leather jacket and a motorbike. He bets he's got tattoos and an arrest record too doesn't he MC, Jin is judging you so hard.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Ways they show they love each other pt. 2 - Lewis Hamilton

Other 5 snippets of fluff (part 1 here)

Also there's a bunch more just like these ones if you like them - Ways to say I love you p1 / p2 ; All these little things - p1 / p2 ; Small firsts

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +4k

a/n: Hope you guys like the other 5❤️

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

______________________________________________________________

A shared laugh

The garage hummed with its usual controlled chaos—engineers calling out last-minute adjustments, mechanics moving with practiced precision, and the soft hiss of machinery setting the stage for another session of free practice.

It was the kind of environment where every second mattered. And yet, in the corner, just a little off to the side of it all, there was a pocket of something entirely different.

Y/n leaned against the side of a counter, arms folded across her chest, a teasing smile playing at her lips. She was watching him as he stood in front of her, half-dressed in his race suit, the top half still hanging loose around his waist.

His arms were bare as he put on his fireproofs, and his face seemed relaxed—a quiet playfulness reserved only for moments like this, where no one was looking too closely.

Except, of course, someone always was.

And now the video was on every Mercedes’s social account for everyone to watch too.

“You’re actually serious right now?” Y/n voice could be heard, tinged with disbelief as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Lewis grinned, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “I’m telling you, it’s true.”

“No way” she replied, shaking her head. “You can’t honestly believe that.”

“I’m not making it up!” He insisted, stepping closer, his hands animated as he tried to explain whatever ridiculous story he’d just finished telling her. “I’m not the only one who thinks that a burrito is technically a sandwich.”

Y/n burst out laughing, unable to contain herself any longer. “A burrito?” she managed between giggles, wiping at her eyes. “Lewis, I swear, this is the dumbest debate I’ve ever had with you.”

Lewis was laughing too now, the deep, contagious sound of it filling the space around them.

It was the kind of laugh that made anyone within earshot want to smile, even if they didn’t know what the joke was. And right now, the joke didn’t matter—it was the shared absurdity of the moment that had them both in stitches, doubling over in the midst of all the seriousness around them.

One of the engineers glanced up from his workstation, catching sight of the scene. He looked confused and amused by the way Lewis looked at Y/n, the way they bounced off each other’s energy so effortlessly.

They were in their own bubble, and it was hard not to notice how much lighter the air felt around them.

“Okay, okay,” Y/n said, holding up a hand as if to stop herself from laughing any further. “You win. Burritos are sandwiches now. You’ve officially lost your mind, but fine.”

Lewis chuckled, leaning against the car beside her, still catching his breath. “Took you long enough to come around” he teased, nudging her gently with his elbow.

She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the fondness in her expression.

Just then, the race engineer called out to Lewis, signaling that it was time to get back to business. The moment was over, but the laughter still lingered between them, a spark of something light and easy in the middle of an otherwise intense environment.

Lewis straightened up, pulling his race suit fully over his shoulders and zipping it up. The smile was still on his face, though, and Y/n noticed how it softened as he glanced her way again before putting on his helmet.

“Good luck out there, burrito boy,” she called after him, her tone teasing but warm.

He paused, helmet in hand, and shot her one last look over his shoulder. “Sandwich,” he corrected, his grin unmistakable.

A comforting touch

The morning air could be felt as Lewis stepped out of his hotel, greeted by the familiar sight of eager fans gathered just at the entrance.

Their energy was something for 8 in the morning, a mixture of excitement and admiration that seemed to surge towards him in waves.

Y/n stood a few steps behind, her presence almost unnoticed by those who didn’t know where to look.

As always, Lewis paused at the threshold, scanning the crowd. It was a ritual of sorts—a moment to gauge the atmosphere, to read the room, even if the room was the open air of a city street.

His expression was calm, composed, but Y/n could see the weight of the day ahead in the slight tension in his shoulders. She knew this routine, knew how the spotlight both invigorated and drained him.

Y/n caught his eye, offering a small, reassuring smile. It was a silent nudge, a gentle encouragement, and she tilted her head slightly towards the fans as if to say, Go on, they’re waiting for you.

Lewis hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded, stepping forward to engage with the crowd. His smile widening as he reached the fans, his demeanor the charismatic champion they all adored.

Y/n watched as he moved from person to person, signing caps, taking photos, exchanging a few words that would become cherished memories for those lucky enough to be there.

She could have stayed back, let him handle it alone—he was used to this.

But instead of going for the waiting, she found herself pulled towards the crowd, her own steps unhurried.

There was no grand gesture, no need to make her presence known. She simply started gathering the items people held out as if she was her assistant —caps, shirts, posters—creating a small pile for Lewis to sign as he worked his way down the line.

As she turned to pass the cap to Lewis, their hands brushed—just a fleeting touch, barely there, but enough to draw his attention.

He glanced at her, a question in his eyes, and she responded with a soft squeeze of his hand, a silent affirmation that she was there with him, sharing the moment, supporting him somehow.

To anyone watching, it was just a brief interaction, lost in the flurry of excitement. But to those who knew it was a glimpse into something that had been kept a secret for a while.

There was a rhythm to it, a dance of sorts, as they navigated the crowd together. She would hand him a cap or a poster, and he would sign it, occasionally looking her way with a subtle smile that only she could read.

It was in these moments, these quiet exchanges amid the chaos, that the depth of their connection became visible, not just to each other but to those around them.

One of the fans, a woman in her mid-thirties, watched them with a curious expression. She wasn’t there for Y/n—she was there for Lewis, like everyone else—but she couldn’t help noticing the way they interacted.

There was something so natural, so effortless, in the way they moved together. It was like watching a well-rehearsed play, each knowing their role without needing to speak their lines.

Lewis finished signing the last few items, Y/n handed back the cap to a young girl, who beamed as if she had just received a priceless treasure. Lewis watched the exchange, his eyes softening as he saw the way Y/n knelt to speak to a young girl, making sure she felt seen, valued.

When Y/n stood up again, Lewis was there, closer than before.

He placed a hand on the small of her back, a gesture so subtle it might have gone unnoticed if not for the way she instinctively leaned into it. They didn’t need to say anything; the touch was enough, a grounding force amidst the buzz of the crowd.

And for those who caught that, it was clear: this was love, not in the grand declarations or the flashy displays, but in the small, comforting touches that passed between them, the ones that said, I’m here, I’m with you, we’re in this together.

A supportive gesture

The stretch of road at kilometer 30 was lined with spectators, their cheers echoing off the buildings as runners powered past in the late stages of the marathon. Signs of encouragement waved in the breeze, cowbells chimed, and the occasional horn blared from the sidelines.

Among the crowd, faces blurred together, but one figure stood out—though he tried his best not to.

Lewis disguised in a plain black hoodie and sunglasses, stood at the edge of the barriers, holding a bottle of hydrolites and a couple of gels in his hands.

To most people, he was just another supporter, cheering on the runners like any other fan. But to the few who managed to catch a glimpse, a double-take revealed the truth.

The F1 superstar, one of the most recognizable faces in the world, was standing quietly, trying to blend into the crowd.

He wasn’t there for the attention though. This wasn’t about him. Today was about Y/n.

She had been training for months, putting in the hours and the sweat. And Lewis had been right there with her every step of the way, in the background, supporting her as she chased down a goal that had nothing to do with racing or Formula 1.

Today, she was the one in the spotlight.

As the runners passed by, his eyes scanned the crowd, searching for her familiar figure. She usually held a strong pace in the early stages, and he knew this was where the race got tough.

Kilometer 30 was her hardest wall, where fatigue set in, muscles burned, and the mental battle began.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his grip tightening on the bottle, his heart pounding in rhythm with the runners' footsteps.

He’d been tracking her progress the whole way, checking his phone for updates on her pacing and timing it perfectly so he’d be waiting when she rounded the corner.

And then she came into view. Her face set in that expression Lewis knew so well. The one that said she wasn’t giving up, no matter how tough it got.

Without a word, Lewis stepped forward, arm outstretched with the bottle and gels. Y/n’s eyes flickered up as she passed, and for a second, their gazes met. She didn’t say anything—she didn’t need to.

She just grabbed the bottle, took the gels, and in one smooth motion, continued her pace.

It was a split-second exchange, a tiny moment in the grand scheme of her marathon. But it was more than enough.

“I’ll be waiting at the finish line!” Lewis blurted out, his voice louder than intended as she disappeared into the sea of runners ahead.

Y/n turned around slightly, not breaking her stride, flashing him the briefest hint of a smile curl at the edge of her lips.

He couldn’t help but smile back, the fans behind him snapping pictures, likely posting online about how they had seen Lewis waiting at the side of her marathon.

The moment didn’t even last a minute. It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t flashy, but it was his way of showing up for her.

But what they didn’t see—what no one but Y/n could truly understand—was that this wasn’t the guy they knew. This wasn’t the F1 superstar, the champion, or the media personality.

This was just Lewis. Her boyfriend, the guy who would stand on the side of roads with a bottle of Hydrolite and gels. To make sure she gave her best.

The fans only caught glimpses of it—the way he waited patiently just for her. The way he smiled and encouraged her. The way he leaned in close to make sure she knew that he was here for her and her alone.

A few people around him had started to whisper, some with wide eyes realizing who he was, but he didn’t care. Not today. Today, he was just a guy standing at the 30-kilometer mark, cheering on his girl, making sure she had what she needed to keep going.

As he melted back into the crowd, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up a little tighter, a couple of fans tried to approach, cameras raised in anticipation. But Lewis gave them a polite nod and quietly slipped away before they could ask for anything more.

He wasn’t here to be the F1 star today. He was here for her.

And he had to reach that final gate.

Because no matter what, he knew one thing for sure: he’d be waiting for her at the finish line, just like he promised.

A helping hand

The car door swung open to noise and flashes, cameras popping off in the crisp evening air. Fans lined the walkway outside the event, eager to catch a glimpse of Lewis Hamilton and Y/n as they arrived.

Y/n smoothed the fabric of her dress, taking a steadying breath as she prepared to step out of the car. She was a pro at these types of events, but it’d be the first they would attend a fashion week as a couple and the attention always came with its own blend of nerves and excitement.

She reached for her purse, but before her hand could graze the leather strap, Lewis had already scooped it up, holding it casually in his free hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He did it without thought, without hesitation—like it was instinct.

Outside the car, he stood tall, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his confidence and poise effortless, as always.

He extended his hand to her, the gesture so simple yet filled with quiet care. Y/n placed her hands in his, feeling the warmth of his palms as he helped her step out, guiding her gently. His touch steady, reassuring—a message that said, I’m here. I’ve got you.

As they began to walk toward the entrance, cameras continued to capture every step, but it was Lewis’ small, subtle actions that seemed to draw the most attention.

Y/n could hear whispers from the crowd, murmurs of admiration at how Lewis wasn’t afraid to carry her things, how comfortable they seemed in each other’s presence.

A fan shouted something playful about how lucky Lewis was, and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh under her breath, stealing a glance at him as they walked.

“You know, you’re going to set unrealistic standards for these guys” she teased lightly, her voice low so only he could hear.

He glanced at her a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “They can keep up.”

But it wasn’t just the purse. As they neared the door, Lewis held onto her hand a beat longer, squeezing gently before letting go, just enough to remind her that he was by her side, not just as a partner but as someone who always had her back.

The way his fingers lingered on hers, the way his touch communicated support without the need for grand gestures—it was the kind of thing only those paying attention would notice.

It wasn’t until later, when they were inside the venue, mingling with the crowd and the night was in full swing, that Y/n realized just how much attention that small gesture had garnered.

Her phone buzzed in her purse—now safely back in her possession—and she saw her social media lighting up.

Photos of them stepping out of the car, Lewis holding her purse and helping her out, had spread like wildfire.

It was funny, really, how such a small, everyday act could spark so much conversation. But that was the beauty of it.

It was the quiet moments of care, the ones that others caught glimpses of, that truly showed the depth of their love.

And maybe the world had taken notice only tonight, but for Y/n, it was just another reminder of the kind of love they shared—the kind that lived in the small, supportive gestures that made all the difference.

A shared secret

The video started with the usual buzz of the garage during race weekend—mechanics working on the cars, team members hurrying around, and the faint hum of engines in the background.

The camera panning over the scene, capturing the lively chaos as the reporter filming moved between the crowd, searching for any interesting snippets.

And then Lewis and Y/n were spotted.

Standing close, slightly out of the way, their heads leaned in towards each other.

From the angle, it was clear that whatever they’re talking about was private.

An undeniable tension in the air around them. Didn’t look like an argument but something that made the space between them feel intense.

The reporter’s camera zoomed in. Their faces a bit blurred, but the body language spoke volumes.

Y/n’s arms were crossed loosely in front of her, and Lewis had one hand resting on the back of his neck, his expression serious as he listened.

Their conversation was low, and while the reporter couldn’t hear what they’re saying, it was clear they were focused entirely on each other.

The camera caught Y/n leaning in a little closer, saying something under her breath that made Lewis nod in response. It was one of those moments that looked important, but it was impossible to know exactly what was being said.

There was a flicker of understanding that passed between them, the kind of shared look that only comes when two people are on the same wavelength.

For a while they didn’t even notice the camera. But then, like a switch flipping, Y/n’s eyes dart toward the camera.

She spotted it first, her body tensing just slightly before she looked back at Lewis, who followed her gaze.

Lewis glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with the camera for a split second. He said something quickly to Y/n, and the shift was palpable.

Whatever secret they were sharing, whatever private moment they were having, it was clear they didn’t want anyone else intruding on it.

Without any other word, they turned, Y/n subtly tugging at the sleeve of Lewis’s race suit as they moved towards the inside of the garage.

The camera followed them for as long as they could zoom, capturing how closely they walked side by side, their hands intertwining as they turned a corner.

The air between them was thick, and it was clear whatever they were discussing wasn’t over yet—it was just being moved somewhere out of sight.

As they disappeared into the garage, the camera lingered for a moment, catching some of the engineers also looking at them leave.

And before the screen cut to black a whisper could be heard on the video  “What was that about?”

______________________________________________________________

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[enwoso]

Would you write something for Lovie sitting with Leah during the Bk Hacken game and she being strict with Leah as Lessi told her Leah’s head was concussed only lovie thinking she is confused

CONFUSED AND CONCUSSED! — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

"and remember to look out for auntie lele okay, cause she's got a concussion" mummy reminded you with a serious look as she zipped your jacket up, putting your hood up to keep your ears warm. alessia using that moment as a nice way to remind you not to drive the poor blonde up the wall with your excitement.

you nodded attentively, taking each word seriously for once as your mummy kissed your cheek, before hugging you tight as you whispered a good luck before running back to where leah was sat with steph in meadow park.

the ground not being too busy yet as people were just starting to pile in and get settled into the game. "you excited for the game kiddo" steph asked as you nodded with a grin, you always loved game days.

you turned to leah who had the match day programme in her hand, tentatively reading through it. a squint here and there from the blonde as she tried to get a better look at the page.

"auntie lele!" you snatched the match programme out from her hands before leah even had a chance to react as a confused look flashed across her face.

"erm tiny what have-" leah began, trying to explain to why you don't snatch things from people's hands except before she could even get a word in, you interrupted her. a stern look on your face, pretty much mirroring the one leah had on her face.

"no! mummy said you not allowed to do any thing that uses your mind- cause you'll get confused again" you told leah as her face softened as steph sat watching the whole matter unfold — trying her best to stifle her laughter that was building inside.

watching leah be scolded by a four year old wasn't on her list of things she would witness today but that didn't make it any less entertaining, if anything it made it more.

leah stood stunned for a moment, her mouth opening to say something but no words actually came out as her brain tried to rack around the situation.

“i know your just trying to look out for me tiny — and look i really appreciate it but i’m not going to get confused by a few words on a page..” leah spoke with such care as you pouted a little but nodding none the less.

the start of the match came and you began your usual cheering making sure not to be too loud in case it hurt auntie lele’s head, you knowing that it could make her confused again which you didn’t want to happen as in your mind it was never a nice feeling to be confused — you hated when you got your letter b’s and d’s mixed up at school. the two letter looking too similar for your liking.

your mummy was playing well hitting the target a few times but one really good chance came in the 39th minute — kyra hit the cross bar. a loud cheer coming from steph as you winced. it being too loud.

“auntie steph!” you turned to look at her with a scowl, as steph blinked at you. her attention more on the pitch than the look you were giving her.

“yes kiddo?” she said glancing down at you, a smile on her face soon dropping as she seen your scowl. “you can’t screech like dat- auntie lele will get confused” you told the australian as she nodded taking in fully what you said as she mumbled a small apology pinky promising to not shout as loud for the rest of the game.

you telling leah or steph off when either of them did something that might make auntie lele confused carried on the entirety of the match. a small movement and it might hurt leah’s head.

anytime leah glanced at her phone to check the time you were quick to scowl at her as she huffed shuffling her phone back into her coat pocket or when half time came around and the music started playing around medow park you insisted that leah covered her ears.

even though while you were insisting on helping leah she assured you she was fine and had been cleared by the physio at arsenal but you just kept on going — leah maybe had been given the clear by the doctor at arsenal but she hadn’t been given the clear by doctor tiny?

the whistle went and you held tightly onto leah’s hand as you guided her down to the pitch, but you were quick to let go when your mummy spotted you. rushing into her arms as she twirled you around.

“have you looked after auntie lele?” your mummy asked with a raise of the eyebrows as you nodded proudly. “auntie lele had doctor tiny’s best care!”

“i bet she has” alessia chuckled as you wriggled out of your mummy’s arms rushing off to say your hellos to the other girls mainly making a beeline for kyra or vic.

alessia watched as leah walked over a less than impressed look on the england captains face. “heard you had some top tier care?” alessia giggled as leah scoffed.

“love her to bits but please make sure she never wants to be a doctor!” leah grumbled as she started to recount all the things you’d done to make sure that leah didn’t get anymore confused.

“oh she must of thought i meant confused when i told her you had a concussion” alessia laughed as she realised what had gone so wrong, you’d gotten the words muddled up.

“oh so she’s the one whose confused, not me!”

“leah need i remind you she’s four, your twenty-seven. of course she’s not gonna know what a concussion is!”

[eph3merall]

the pungent smell of smoke burns at your nostrils, scrunching your nose up on instinct. the aroma of the burning candle beside you isn't serving its purpose of masking the smell of weed, though you should be used to it now. your eyes train on the flicker of flame casting shadows across chris' room, drips of wax melting and collecting on the bottom of the dish you placed it on.

the offer of cracking open a window earlier had chris looking at you funny, tearing your eyes away from the wavering flame and staring at the figure hunched over his desk. smoke floats up and dissipates out on top of chris' form, hearing an audible sigh as the chair he's in creaks with his weight.

"what are you doing?" the words slip from your mouth before you realize you even want to say something, the silence of the room seeming far too suffocating for your liking. you hear chris grunt, and more words are expected after, honestly. but he doesn't say anything else, leading you to confusion. a frown settles on your face, always hating being ignored or being given half answers.

"hey. i'm talking to you," you try again. chris just lifts one of his hands and waves it towards you, as if saying 'it's nothing'. which is fine, but you'd like a proper answer. your heart tugs when he doesn't even respond with his words, the sounds of sheets rustling in the air as you shift around in his bed. you normally wouldn't even push an answer, because you know chris is exhausted sometimes. but today, you feel as if he owes you something. he's been ignoring you all day, like you were some dirt on his shoe that he could give a fuck less about.

"chris—" a protest is on the tip of your tongue, face screwed up in frustration, but chris beats you to it. he's sighing, and you can hear the annoyance in his tone. he doesn't turn to look at you, only his words seem to be perfected missiles that cut deep into you.

"shut up for a second. seriously. like, jus' need you to shut the fuck up for five seconds. always yapping on about shit, gettin' upset when i don't pay attention to you. not like im your fuckin' boyfriend. don't piss me off, kid."

you stare at the back of his chair blankly, settling back down in comfortable sheets and plush pillows that support your back. your ears seem to be clogged with water now, tuning out chris' voice and the words that made your chest hurt and mind come up with a million thoughts a minute. and eventually, you shut the brunette out all the way and zone out. that faraway look present in your eyes that's always visible at parties, not wanting to listen to what chris says about you.

you know deep down he's probably just annoyed. he's smoking as well, which never helps his case. you replay today's events, and nothing out of the ordinary happened to have made chris so irritated. you blink, and suddenly he's pacing his room while glaring at you time to time, rambling.

"—n'you're always actin like i have to pay attention to you all the time. do you know how pathetic that is? fuckin' needy ass attention bitch. it's like i can't ever catch a break with you, because it's always 'chris this, chris that'. do shit by yourself for once, actin' like im the only person who cares for you. wouldn't even be surprised, knowing im the one who introduced you to so many of your friends today—"

his words aren't true. deep down, you know chris is agitated and speaking his mind. but your heart thumps gently in your chest with each passing second, tears burning behind your eyelids as you blink once, harsh and tight. you focus on the creases of the sheets, tap your fingers against your thigh, anything to try and stop the tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

but he just keeps going, and going. talking and talking and talking, and at one point it just gets to be too much. shutting chris out again seemed too mean, lower lip quivering as the heel of your palm comes up to wipe at the tears dripping down your face. your throat gets tight, like a wire cord getting wrapped around your skin and rendering you unable to speak up.

at one point, you sniffle. chris pauses, glancing towards you. his jaw is tight and body rigid, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of you sobbing silently on his bed. the itch to continue is there and making him want to give in, sighing from his nose as the dealer stalks towards you with a few grumbles under his breath.

"alrighy, alright," warm arms and a familiar scent wrap around you as chris settles into his bed and throws an arm around your shoulders. a 'shut up' worms its way into your brain, lips parting in huffs of breaths and your nose feeling stuffy from the tsunami of tears suddenly spilling from your eyes.

you feel his hand grip at your shoulder, tugging you towards his side gently. his other hand wraps around your wrists to yank them away from your face while pulling you softly into his side. he doesnt bother with words, knowing he'd somehow make you cry more if he opened up his stupid mouth.

chris knows he's the reason you're crying right now, lashes clumping together with tears and lips going dry from the gasps of air you're heaving in. with a roll of his blue eyes and a sigh from his lips, he settles down and lets you sob however much you want. it'd be little to no use trying to make you stop, knowing chris he'd just make everything worse. he doesn't enjoy this. not really. and yeah, it was his fault, the seed of guilt heavy in his chest yet his mind choosing to ignore it.

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes

©eph3merall 2024

[ponderingmoonlight]

Nanami fearing rejection from his wife and daughter after Shibuya left him seriously wounded

Pairing: Nanami x wife!reader; Nanami x daughter

Word Count: 1,9k

Synopsis: Even though he survived Shibuya, Kento Nanami dies from the inside just by the thought of losing you and his precious little daughter due to his severe wounds and scarred skin. But despite his great fear, your reaction turns out completely different than expected.

Warnings: Let's just pretend this is how it ended okay I'm crying, tried to proofread this but I'm just veeeery depressed right now, this might be the fluff you NEED after today's episode

Request and idea by gorgeous @wifenanami <3

Everything’s a blur. What happened last? How did he get here? His heavy heart skips a beat. Oh, right. His whole left side burns like a thousand fires, arm unable to move even an inch by the way his skin feel like bursting every minute. He was severely burned. The last thing he saw was…

Haibara, then Yuji, and then…

You.

Oh god, just the thought of you kills him from the inside.

“Hey, easy there. Your heartbeat is jumping out of the roof. You need to rest now, Nanami. I already called your wife.”

The smell of burned cigarettes simply takes his breath away, along with the venomous words that leave Shoko’s mouth so casually.

“My wife?”, he coughs out, body desperately trying to sit up.

No, this is impossible. You can’t see him like that, body covered in burn marks with his left eye and hair missing. What will you think of him? And what about your daughter? That sweet innocent angel, will she even be able to recognize him? You, his wife, the love of his wife. Your daughter, the greatest treasure on earth.

Will you be disgusted by his fearful sight?

“Yeah, she’s already on her way. Honestly I wasn’t sure if you’ll make it, so I-“

“Why on earth did you call her?”

Shoko stops in her tracks, laying her head to the side in nothing but confusion.

“Huh, what are you talking about? (y/n)’s your wife after all, why wouldn’t I tell her?”

“What if she doesn’t recognize me? What if she’s freaked out by me? What if she brings our daughter with her?”

His sweaty palms begin to shake uncontrollably. In his life, Kento Nanami lost a lot of things: Jobs, money, people, good friends. But oh god, the thought of losing you, his precious little family. It truly kills him from the inside.

“Stop talking nonsense. Being pathetic doesn’t suit you at all”, Shoko remarks dryly.

His widen eyes dart towards the door, waiting in nothing but thick fear for your arrival. Was this afternoon the last time you looked at him as lovingly as you always did? Was it the last time his daughter kissed his right cheek before she left the house? It can’t be, it just can’t turn out like that.

But you deserve so much better. Damn, you are straight up gorgeous, a woman who turns heads on a regular basis. You need more than a crippled man by your side, more than one half of the man you used to know. He wouldn’t even be mad if your eyes lose the spark they hold for him when you see him today.

“I’m leaving now. Something seems to be off. I’m trying to get back by dinner.”

“Why do you have to go this early? I thought we’d have a little time for ourselves. Since our precious little angel is still at kindergarten and I have the afternoon off…”

Your hands roamed around his broad chest, eyes filled with nothing but affection and love. You were always bad at hiding your feelings, your bright orbs being the centre of his universe. God, how much he wanted to lock the door behind you, how much he longed for your touch. But this sounded serious.

“As much as I’d love to take that offer immediately, the young ones need me, (y/n). But I will return as soon as possible and then we’ll finish what you started.”

“Promise it”, you demanded, a small understanding smile decorating your delicate lips while he held your body so tightly against his.

“I promise it. I can’t wait to see you tonight.”

One last longing kiss on your forehead. One last kiss before he left your house with a last “I love you” shouted into thin air.  

“Damn”, he hisses through gritted teeth, pain pulsating through his whole body, taking his sight.

What is his life worth without you in it?

-(y/n)’s POV-

“Mommy, I’m scared.”

“Hey, hold your head up high, angel. Everything will turn out alright, okay? Daddy is a hero, after all”, you reassure your daughter softly while secretly wiping away a falling tear.

When Shoko called you a few minutes ago, your feet begin to carry you on their own, heart hammering against your aching chest. Your loving husband, the man who gifted you with the precious daughter who holds your hand tightly. She didn’t tell you what happened to him, how he feels. But her tone was as urgent as never before, making you storm down the dark streets of Tokyo in pouring rain until you finally arrived at Jujutsu High, opening the well-known doors to the hospital wing with trembling hands.

Please, let him be alright. Maybe injured, but alive. Maybe distressed, but all in all fine.

Please, let your husband be alright.

You wander down the cold hallways, eyes roaming around the area in a desperate attempt to spot your husband somewhere between the countless injured people. Where is he? Where did they put him?

Suddenly, your orbs get stuck on a wave of pink hair.

“Yuji?” you breathe out.

“Mommy, there’s Yuji!”, the excited voice of your little daughter next to you cries out, already on her way to storm towards the pink-haired boy.

You can’t hold back. Out of instinct you follow her tiny feet, embracing the boy in front of you in a tight hug.

“Please tell me you’re alright, tell me you feel well”, you whisper into his ear.

In an instant, tears start to swell up his eyes, soaking through the fabric of your elegant autumn dress. Your heart shatters into a million pieces, hands gently stroking through his hair.

“I’m not. I’m far away from feeling well, (y/n)”, he cries against your neck, letting himself fall completely against your frame.

Oh Yuji. You hate to see him like that, his thick tears falling like the pouring rain outside.

“I’m sorry for letting Nanami-sensei down, I’m sorry for all the things I did, I-“

“Don’t talk any further. I’m sure you did your best, Yuji. And I know Kento is very proud of you. Please, get some rest now, okay? Did Shoko already check on you? Hey, do you want to stay with me tonight?”

“You can sleep in my room!” your daughter suggests in an instant, hugging Yuji’s leg while looking up at him with doe eyes.

“Thank you, I’m okay. You should look after Nanami-sensei. After all you’re here because of him and not because of me, right?”

“I will always look after you, Yuji. But yes, I’d really like to see my husband right now”, you reply tenderly.

“Is my dad alright?”

“He’s in room 018 down the hall. Please…tell him I’m sorry”, Yuji mutters.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, thank you for your help, Yuji. Come on darling, let’s go see daddy.”

You let out your shaky breath, hand holding onto the doorknob. Finally. You will definitely pay Yuji a visit later on. But know, you have to focus on him. Finally, you’re able to see your husband again.

“Kento, I’m here-“

“Don’t look at me. Get out and never come back”, his harsh voice instructs you.

There he sits, back faces towards you will a white cloak covering his upper body. Your mind begins to race, his punitive tone being to unusual. Not even when discussing, your husband ever turned this cold. What has gotten into him?

“Hi daddy!” your daughter greets her father with all excitement.

His heart breaks in an instant. Why? Why on earth do you have to be here? And why did you have to bring your daughter with you? Why do you have to see him like that?

“I am not the man you fell in love with anymore, (y/n).”

The bitterness in his voice makes you squint your eyes while walking towards him.

“What are you talking about, Kento? I might love you even more after you survived this hell”, you reply in an instant.

“Daddy, what happened to your face?”

Like in slow motion he turns around, revealing severe burns on the left side of his body and his eye covered in bandages. Your heart skips a beat. Oh god, what happened to your poor husband?

“Who did this to you, love?”

“It doesn’t matter how or who. But I understand that I’m not the man you married anymore. I am only half of the man I used to be. So if you want to leave me behind, if you want to take care of our daughter alone-“

He is forced to stop mid-sentence by the way his little daughter presses her tiny body onto his lap, hugging him as tightly as never before. And your gaze that makes time stand still. Your gaze that isn’t filled with disgust like he imagined.

No, your look holds nothing but love and gratitude.

“You can’t imagine how happy I am to see that you are well. When Shoko called me I thought we’ll might lose you. Kento, I…I love you with all my heart. The thought of letting you go, the thought of never seeing you again. I’m so glad.”

And then you sprint towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck carefully with your loving gaze never leaving him.

All pain seems to vanish, nothing else but you matter. Your eyes always tell the truth, he knows all too well. And right now, they scream at him in nothing put the pureness of love while a tear runs down your smiling delicate mouth.

“Now you look like a hero, daddy”, his daughter mumbles against his chest, smiling up at him so widely that even Kento Nanami can’t hold back any longer.

“Because he is, sweetheart. Your dad is a hero”, you clarify with shaky voice, pressing a kiss against his right cheek.

“You aren’t disgusted? Even though I look nothing like the man you fell in love with an never will?”, you mutters.

Gently, your hand caresses his uninjured cheek.

“Nothing will ever distress my love for you. No scar in the world will stop me from loving you with all my heart. I’m so glad you came back to me alive. Nothing else matters.”

“I think you look cool, daddy!”

A single tear rolls down his cheek. For the first time in his life, he isn’t able to keep his composure any longer. A tear of joy, a tear of gratitude. Of course, Nanami was always very aware of what a wonderful woman you are and how well you cared for his little daughter as well. But oh, seeing both of you with your arms wrapped around him, gazing at him with nothing but love and tenderness in your orbs…

Your eyes never lied at him.

How does he even deserve this? How does a simple man like Kento Nanami deserve such a loving wife and daughter made of pure gold?

“We need a cool name for you now, daddy.”

“Daddy first needs all his energy to get well again, sweetheart. But yes, you are right. After all, every hero has a special name, right?”, you reply, chuckling over your very own falling tears.

“I’m not a hero, darling”, Nanami contradicts, running his hand through his daughter’s hair softly.

“But to me you are, daddy. And to mommy too.”

“Indeed. And when all of this is over, I’ll take you to Malaysia”, you confirm, cuddling against his chest while resting your eyes.

“Malaysia, huh? Sounds great…”

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