#she’s still my everything despite everything we went through

[hoeforcheol]

Talked with the ex today. I don’t think she knows how to handle this when I’m not being a psycho like I was last time. I’m proud of the way I’ve been able to behave tho. I’m still sad but I’m in a way better place than the last time this all happened. I just wish shit could be easier. But she said bye when she left so…progress?

[pinktinselmonstrosity]

had probably thee most insane night of my life lol! everything is sorted now (10am, i just got home) but. oh my god it was rough

[rafesangelita]

rafe + breeding kink

warnings: singledad!rafe, older!rafe (maybe like late twenties-early thirties), nanny!reader, rafe’s son calls you mommy, fluff, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy and having kids, creampie

a/n: breeding kink was so heavily requested omg, i love everyone who left a req for this <3 i definitely went a little overboard lol

“well, that worked like a charm.” rafe smiled down at you and his son who was currently cuddled into your side. “i don’t want to move away from him.” you pouted, running your fingers through the little boy’s hair. you had been doing this weird thing to rafe’s heart everytime he saw you caring for his boy, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

despite having been rafe’s nanny for nearly three years now, you still found yourself getting flustered every time you caught him staring at you. whether it was you folding laundry, or bending over to dust the entertainment center, all those little things were starting to add up into something both of you wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“do you think we could talk?” rafe helped you up from his son’s race car bed, a worried expression overtaking his features. “yeah, of course, is everything alright?” you didn’t miss the way he kept your hand in his, leading both of you downstairs after closing the door to little ray’s room. “yes, i actually wanted to talk about my salary-” rafe was quick to cut in.

“throw me a number and you got it.” he dropped your hand, ushering you to take a seat next to him. you laughed softly, shaking your head. “no, i don’t want more pay; quite the opposite, really.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “you’re not quitting are you?” he heard his heart beating in his ears at your lack of response.

“no, god no!” you placed a hand on his arm, “i’ve been looking for another job because i don’t want to be paid for taking care of ray anymore..” you met his gaze, running your nails against his skin. “why?” rafe couldn’t wrap his head around your words, his eyes darting across your face.

“you know, i’ve been taking care of ray since he was two, and he’s going to be five next week.. i’ve grown so close to him.” you smiled. “caring for him, cooking for him, playing with him, loving him, it isn’t a job for me.” you didn’t realize you were crying until rafe wiped your cheek ever so gently. “you love him?” rafe’s voice was barely above a whisper, his own tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“i do, rafe. i love him so much.” you sniffled. “he called me mom the other day and i felt terrible ‘cause i bursted into tears on the spot, and he thought he made me sad but i was just overjoyed.” you laughed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i want you to know that i’m not trying to take the place of his mother, i would never do that..”

rafe knew ray called you mom. it wasn’t too long ago that ray said, ‘mommy made my favorite pancakes!’ when rafe asked him about his day and made his heart damn near stop in his chest when he heard the word fall from his son’s lips. “you’re the closest thing he has to a mother. i don’t even know how to thank you for that.” he leaned in, embracing you tightly.

you two stayed like this for a couple moments before you pulled away, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “i called mrs. anderson to set up a playdate with ray and her son, and do you want to know what she said?” you stifled a laugh as rafe relaxed into the couch. “what?” he admired the way you lit up while talking about ray.

“she said that ray was a little more on the wild side and that it would be in her son’s best interest if they didn’t hang out anymore.” you watched as rafe shrugged. “that little nerd was too boring, anyways.” you gasped, slapping his chest playfully. “rafe!” you whispered, both of you covering your mouths to keep from being too loud.

he quieted down, sighing to himself before looking up at the ceiling, you following suit. “i do worry about that sometimes. i feel like ray needs more of a permanent friend, like a sibling..” he trailed off, glancing at you only to see you were looking at him already. “a sibling?” you raised your eyebrows. “how would you go about that?” you cleared your throat, trying to ignore the smidge of jealousy that settled in the pit of your stomach.

“want me to explain to you how babies are made?” rafe scooted closer, his arm draping over your shoulders. “no need, i’m well aware.” you waved him off. “yeah?” he guided you on top of his lap, both of you looking at each other with dark swirling in your eyes. “tell me, y/n, ‘you ever think about having little ones?” his large hands came up to rub against your thighs.

rafe felt as if he was approaching that line he’s been wanting to cross since the first time he interviewed you all those years ago. “yes.” you let out a shaky breath when you felt rafe’s fingertips move under your blouse. “you would make such a good mother, you’d want that wouldn’t you?” you cupped his face as his lips ghosted over your own.

you moaned once he finally kissed you, both of your clothes coming off before you could have enough time to think. “gonna fill you up and make you have my babies, yeah?” he laid you down on the soft cushions, running the head of his cock between your wet folds. “yes, please.” you mewled, eyes shining with lust as he took your chin between his thumb.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful.” he covered your mouth, muffling the yelp that left your lips when he entered you slowly, your silky walls welcoming him inch by inch. his strokes were slow and full of intention, his arms caging you in while you two shared the kind of kisses that made your head spin. “been wanting you like this for so long.” he cursed under his breath.

you whimpered, arms wrapping around his neck as you trailed kisses across his jaw. the intimacy of having his body flush against yours wasn’t like anything you’ve ever experienced, your soft cries driving him on the brink of fucking you senseless. “oh, my god,” you clawed at his skin, making him hiss as he tugged at the roots of your hair to make you look up.

“i can see it already; all three of us going to the beach and rubbing on your round belly, all pretty and pregnant.” rafe picked up his pace, your hips now moving with his to meet his thrusts. “i want that so bad!” you nearly screamed when he started toying with your clit, both of you holding onto one another like your life depended on it.

“jesus, fuck-” his movements came to a halt before he placed your legs on his shoulders, leaning down until your thighs met the cushions underneath you. snaking an arm around your lower back, you gasped when he started lifting you up, fucking you onto his cock so he could reach deeper than before. “r-rafe!” your mouth fell open, eyes blinking slowly.

with one hand still rubbing your clit, and the head of his length continuously hitting your sweet spot, you found yourself approaching the edge of euphoria. rafe can tell by the way you were clenching around him that you were going to cum soon. “hold out a little longer for me, baby. ‘want you to cum when i fill you up.” he pressed a kiss to your temple, hips stuttering once the band in his stomach snapped.

burying his head in the curve of you neck, he moaned against your skin as he stilled, the head of his cock nudging your cervix. you felt the moment he finished, the hot ropes of his cum filling you to the hilt as your thighs started trembling. rafe clamped a hand over your mouth, whispering a ‘let me feel you cum around me.’ before you obliged, your orgasm hitting you in long waves of ecstasy.

you laid helplessly, trying your hardest not to scream at the intense feeling in your tummy, your eyes rolling back as he rubbed a soothing hand on your side. rafe helped you come down from your climax, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your body jolt with every stroke of his fingers against your skin. he stayed nestled inside of you, both of you embracing each other as your breathing slowed, sleep weighing heavy on your eyelids.

“you did so good for me, are you feeling okay?” you blinked up at him, a smile making its way to his lips when he saw the fucked out expression on your face. “mhmm, ‘don’t think i could get up though.” you hissed once he pulled out, watching as he slipped on his pants. “let’s get in the shower, you’re staying here.” he helped you up, putting his large button down over your shoulders.

rafe carried you upstairs, tiptoeing past ray’s room before both of you got in the shower, round two well underway. it wasn’t until you were laying rafe’s bed, adorned in one of his t-shirts that you two heard little ray’s voice outside the door. “daddy? can i come in?” rafe rubbed a reassuring hand on your arm, shouting a ‘yes, son!’ before ray strided inside, running up to you excitedly.

“can i sleep in here, pleaseee,” you embraced him, telling him yes before rafe could get the chance to tell him otherwise. “are you sleeping over?” the little boy peered up at you, wasting no time in settling under the comforter of rafe’s bed. you giggled, flashing rafe a look. “yes, i am.” ray looked over at his father, studying him for a minute.

you watched them have a silent conversation with their eyes, the scene making your heart melt. “goodnight, daddy,” he patted rafe’s chest, “..goodnight, mommy.” he pecked your cheek, the waterworks threatening to spill over at any moment. rafe reached over, taking your hand in his before he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “goodnight.”

[favefandomimagines]

loml (r.c)

SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!

Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”

Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.

AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one

The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.

Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.

The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.

Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.

"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.

She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.

"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."

She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."

"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."

She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.

"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"

She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."

His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.

"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."

The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.

Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.

Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.

Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.

“Y/N! John B! Pope!”

Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.

“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.

“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.

But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.

The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.

Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.

At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.

||

Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.

Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.

Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.

Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.

He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.

So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.

A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.

“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”

Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”

John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.

Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.

Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.

“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.

“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.

Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.

There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”

Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”

The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.

She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.

“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”

“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”

||

A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.

Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.

Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.

Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.

They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

[lylianrae]

A list of all the things I have manifested ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪

We manifest everything in our lives btw - the good and the bad which is why I will be including both to prove that the law does not discriminate. If you can successfully become poor, you can most definately become rich with the same ease because everything is just a state.

Long hair

AHH this is one of my favourite manifestations. Ever since I was young I had a weird bob with a fringe (often crooked) and I wanted long hair like all the other girls (lmaoo) but my mum was strict so she didn't let me grow it out. Although I didn't know about manifestation back then, every new year and birthday I would wish for long hair and I would pretend I was a princess with butt long hair. Guess what, somewhere along the line, my mum let me grow it out and now I have butt length hair (don't really know what to do with it tho </3).

As all kids do, I went through an emo phase where I chopped off like half of my hair like 4 years ago. I literally grew back 7-8" of hair within a month because my parents got too mad. I knew about manifestation here so I just assumed my hair always grows unaturally fast. Same with when I cut bangs, they grew past my chin within a couple of weeks.

Manifesting my way into a private school

Honestly this just shows that you dont need 2430430 hours of working on your self concept to manifest. Literally so many celebs, including Marylin Monroe (the queen), manifested their fame with awful self concept. Likewise, here I was possibly going through the worst time of my life back then. I would wake up at 8 am and start studying and end at 11 pm despite being only 10 at the time. I was so freaking stressed and envious of all the other children and went into a depressive spiral where my two options were pass or die. I didn't even have enough practice and I cried my self to sleep on most nights. Anyways, when i did the exam I was deathly calm and even after the exam I was apparently so chill so my parents thought I failed.

I literally left 9 questions on one paper but throughout the summer, everytime I found a dandelion I would make a wish and imagine digging a tunnel to the examiners room where I secretly change my answers into the right ones (lmfao my tiny 10 yr old brain - idek how it worked). Anyways my results were sent back to me a month later on a random October evening and I got a really high mark. Even after 7 years of going to this school I havn't met anyone who has gotten a mark higher than mine.

Curly hair / straight hair

Sigh. We always want things we don't have. When I was younger I had really straight hair like 1A asian hair but when I was like 10, I really wanted curly hair and I would try to curl it often. After a few months, I manifested a curling iron and my hair literally became naturally curly like right after a wash it would curly af when before it was dead straight. Naturally I grew bored of it and I wanted my straight hair back and for ages I began overcomplicating the law and struggled to manifest it. It was only recently when I actually let go of the 3D that I manifested the silky, shiny straight hair.

Social life?

This is also a funny one, just shows how easily you can manifest. So back in 2021 after lockdown I felt so lonely and felt so left out of my friendship group so after a few months I began stressing myself out and spiraling for like 30 minutes, sobbing to myself about how I was so lonely and how nobody loved me (💀). Anyways it became reality, I found myself uncomfortable in many social situations and found myself becoming forgotten far more easily. I don't really remember the details but it was so bad that I think I accidently manifested social anxiety (oh well we still up tho).

However I am a loa girly so I found myself listening to popularity subliminals and slowly (but surely) my mindset change from having no friends to being the most popular girl in the year. Like no joke I became friends with like 3 people from different social circles so at lunchtime we had to join up like 3 different tables so we can all sit together. Overall I got myself 20+ close friends and even my ex friends began to admire me although it had ended badly. Even now, when someone says something thats untrue - for example saying that they are dumb when they are not, they would be like "ahaha so its like when Rae (me) says she has no friends, the whole school knows who Rae is".

Clear skin

This was sort of in the beginning of my loa (law of attraction back then) journey, I just randomly found out what subliminals were and was still quite new to everything. Now I don't even understand how it happened but I had busted some capillaries under my skin and it looked like small red viens under my skin and bro I was freaking out at the time. One night I was like just, I had enough, I'm going to get myself better skin and so I listened to a sub once for 3-4 days and on like the 4th day, my cheeks began to heat up which was odd and the next day it was 90% gone. Just like magikkkk.

Desired university?

Guys. Feeling is the secret. Don't you ever forgot that - not feeling as in emotions but rather the feeling of knowing. I had 2 entrance exams to do to apply for my universities and it was a stressful time where I wasn't getting enough sleep and wasn't eating enough simply because I didn't have the time. Like I come home from school and would have 3-4 hours of homework, then I need to revise for tests and then the remaining time would be spent on the entrance exams. Each past paper took 2 hours and I have around 13s per questions and I was already struggling on time. Anyways, I began to hate them and I would often complain to my mum saying things like "My score got even lower!!" or "I hate it so much" or "My head hurts / eyes hurt".

Guess what? Not only did I see my score decrease over time but I also made such a silly mistake on the most important entrance exam which I needed for 4/5 of my universities. I left a question and completely forgot to mark on the answer so when I finished the section I realised I had one more space on the sheet with like 10s to spare. I didn't have enough time to go back and fix it and lemme say that I did so badly in the test. Even while waiting for results I was just like "ah it would be a miracle if I scored above this bla bla".

I got the score back and it was so freaking bad like I did not stand a chance at my university at all. However, I started to affirm for a place and to my utter shock and surprise my desired university reached out and offered me an interview. I knew people who had like scores which were 50% better than mine and they still got rejected pre-interview. Anyways I began stressing about the interview and the results of the whole thing and boom. I got rejected 3 days after my birthday lmaoo. But its okay because I'm reapplying and I learnt so much more. I'm redoing the entrance exam and my score is a loooot better than it ever was last year.

A key take away would be thoughts are the result of the state you are in. Your dwelling state manifests and I was focusing on the unrealness and the difficultly of getting into this uni and thats what manifested. At the time I was heartbroken and literally went through the 7 stages of grief and spent so many months trying to revise it only for me to focus on the 3D. Just know that everything is done in imagination and it appears in the 3D as a result.

Photographic memory

So this is also something I had manifested before I actually knew about loa but the takeaway here is that manifestation is always instant. I was around 11 reading a random book on my tiny kindle and the book was on how to develop a good memory and I was like ah that'll be useful. Anyways later in the car, I asked my dad about photographic memory and he sort of explained it to me. I just assumed that I have that and I told him I do. He just laughed at me and said thats something that you have to train for and I was not impressed lmao. Inside my tiny brain, I was just like nope, I already have photographic memory and I dropped that thought. Let me tell you, my memory is actually photographic and has helped me out on so many occasions like my brain just takes pictures of things.

Learning fast

This is also something I did before I knew loa, I was just always wondering why the other kids couldn't grasp concepts as easily as I did. Literally in every lesson I would be like ah I learn so fast and now I am actually blessed with the ability to grasp complex subjects so fast. A favourite example of mine would be when I was obsessed with music but to take it to a higher level you need to be able to play an instrument. I couldn't at the time and my teacher told me the requirements a week before the actual deadline. I have never actually played piano with both hands but one day I sat down and worked through the entire song (fur elise by Beethoven) which is a grade 5 (I think) and it normally takes people months / weeks to learn. I learnt the whole thing in 3 days and from then on, I could play piano like I had been doing for ages. Again the memory thing was so helpful because I never actually used any sheet music, I learnt it off a youtube video and I remembered every single note I needed to play.

Hourglass body + 22" waist

This was a couple of years ago when I actually didn't understand loa. Anyways long story short, I would do a 3 minute workout and then flex infront of the mirror all day (💀) and be like omg I have abs. Overtime, I actually got so skinny everyone around me kept pointing it out to me and my mum got so concerned that she took me to the doctor like 4 times. It was so funny, I would loose like 2-3kg overnight and my parents would have to buy better fitting uniform.

Bigger boobs

This was also back in the day (2021?) when I didn't understand how to manifest things easily af. I had an A cup but I wanted better boobies and I listened to like 2 subs for a week and I went to a B cup. But I just assumed I have a bigger cup size recently and I just skipped C and went to D+ (haven't measured in a long time).

I'm not done but I'm tired now bye bye

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗕𝗢𝗬

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: When Chris is starting to come to terms with the horrible idea that he will have to spend his birthday away from Y/N, a surprise takes him, literally, by surprise.

WARNING: Making-out.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: A small story only to warm up for their birthday! I'm going to post more tomorrow 🩷

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The day before the triplets' 21st birthday in Boston was marked by a mix of nostalgia and melancholy for Chris. Despite the bustling energy of their family home, Chris couldn't shake off the heavy feeling of absence. Matt and Nick seemed to be in higher spirits, enjoying their time back home, but Chris felt an emptiness that gnawed at him relentlessly.

Chris had always been too close to Y/N, his girlfriend, who had remained in LA due to her college classes. And as he sat in the living room, watching his family laugh and share stories, Chris couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sadness. He missed Y/N's laughter, her presence, the way she made every moment brighter.

The fact that she couldn’t be there for such a significant milestone made him feel both sad and angry, though he knew it wasn’t her fault. College was important, and he respected her dedication to her studies.

The house was filled with the comforting smells of home-cooked meals and the familiar sounds of family. Chris held his phone in his hand, scrolling through old pictures of him and Y/N, trying to fill the void with memories of their time together.

His thumb paused on a picture Nick took of them at American Ninja Warrior, both of them grinning widely at the camera. It had been taken just a few weeks ago, during their filming. He could almost hear her laugh, see the way her eyes sparkled in the neons light. The longing in his heart intensified, making him feel even more isolated despite being surrounded by his loved ones.

Mary Lou noticed her son's downcast demeanor very quickly, and as soon as she got a little space, she went to sit beside him.

"Chris, honey, what's wrong? You’ve been so quiet all day." She said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, caressing the area.

Chris sighed, leaning into his mother's comforting touch.

"I just miss Y/N, Mom. I know she has classes and all, but it feels wrong to be celebrating without her." He tried to smile, lowering his eyes.

"I understand, sweetheart." Mary Lou gave him a sympathetic smile. "But remember, she’s always with you in spirit. And you’ll see her soon enough. Try to enjoy this time with your family. It’s been so long since we were all together like this."

He nodded, appreciating her words but still feeling the weight of Y/N’s absence. He knew he should be more present, more engaged with his family, and the guilt of not doing that weighted above him, but his thoughts kept drifting back to LA, to the love of his life.

That night, Chris lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet now, everyone else had gone to sleep, tired from the day's activities. He picked up his phone again, contemplating sending Y/N another message. They had exchanged texts throughout the day, but he didn’t want to seem too needy or make her feel guilty for not being there.

Instead, he decided to call her. The phone rang a few times before she picked up, her voice soft and sleepy.

"Hey, honey." She murmured. "Is everything okay?"

Hearing her voice brought a rush of comfort and a pang of sorrow to Chris, a smile taking over his features automatically.

"Hi, babe. Yeah, everything’s fine. I just... I miss you. I wish you were here." His voice sounded soft and lower than usual.

"Oh, babe, I miss you too." She said, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice. "I wish I could be there, Chris. I really do. But I promise, we’ll celebrate when you get back, okay?"

Chris sighed, closing his eyes for a few seconds before reopening them, looking at her contact name glowing on the small screen.

"I know. I just... It’s hard, you know? Being here without you. It doesn't feel right."

"I know, babe. But you’re surrounded by family, and they love you. Try to have a good time, for them. And for me." He almost could listen her sweet smile across the phone.

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him, breathing deeply.

"I’ll try. I just can’t wait to see you."

"Me too. Get some rest, pretty boy. Tomorrow's a big day. I love you." She whispered softly, the sound of sheets moving around echoing in the background.

"I love you too, Y/N. Goodnight." He muttered quietly, biting his bottom lip slightly.

As he hung up the phone, Chris felt a mixture of emotions. He tried to focus on the next day as he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the day he’d be back in Y/N’s arms.

Unbeknownst to Chris, Y/N had been planning something special. She had spent the last few weeks organizing a surprise that she hoped would make up for her absence. She knew how much this milestone meant to him and his brothers, and she wanted to be a part of it in any way she could.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The morning of the triplets' birthday dawned crisp and clear in Boston. Mary Lou was already in the kitchen, bustling about as she prepared a grand breakfast. The aroma of sizzling bacon, freshly baked muffins, and brewing coffee filled the house, a warm and welcoming scent that promised a day full of celebration.

Jimmy and Justin had gone to the grocery store to pick up some last-minute items needed for the big birthday lunch they were planning. The house was alive with activity, everyone playing their part in making this day special.

Matt and Nick had left early, driving to the airport to pick up Y/N. They had been in on the surprise from the start, eager to help bring a genuine smile to Chris's face. The drive was filled with excitement and a few playful jabs at how Chris would react, trying to imagine his expression when he saw Y/N in their home. Y/N herself was a bundle of nerves and anticipation, her heart racing at the thought of surprising Chris. She had barely slept after their call, her mind buzzing with plans and excitement.

As Matt and Nick’s car pulled up to the curb at the airport, Y/N spotted them and waved excitedly, a big smile on her face. They greeted her with warm hugs and excited chatter, filling her in on the plans for the day.

The drive back to the house was filled with lively conversation, Y/N asking about every little detail of their plan, wanting everything to be perfect. Matt and Nick reassured her that everything was set and that their parents were in on the surprise, ready to welcome her with open arms.

As they drove through the streets of Boston, Y/N suddenly remembered something.

"Hey, Matt? Can we stop by a flower shop?" She asked, a hint of urgency in her voice while her eyes kept watching the landscape moving quickly through the window. "I want to get something special for Chris."

Matt and Nick exchanged a glance, then nodded.

"Sure, we can do that." Matt said, turning the car toward the nearest florist he knew all too well from the times his father used to bring them there to buy some flowers for Mary Lou.

The flower shop was a charming little place filled with the vibrant colors and sweet scents of countless blooms. Y/N spent a few minutes selecting the perfect bouquet, a beautiful arrangement of Chris's favorite flowers. She wanted it to be just right, a small token of her love and the effort she put into making his day special.

When they finally pulled back into the driveway, Y/N's heart felt like it might burst from her chest. She took a deep breath, clutching the bouquet tightly, and followed Matt and Nick into the house.

Mary Lou greeted her with a warm hug, kissing her face with excitement and whispering words of encouragement. They placed her surprises in the living room, the bouquet taking center stage among the carefully wrapped gifts.

Y/N took a deep breath, looking at the family for a last time before climbing the stairs slowly, each step heightening her anticipation.

Chris's door was slightly ajar, and she peeked in to see him still asleep, his form cocooned under the heavy blankets. She slipped into the room quietly, closing the door softly behind her. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on Chris's peaceful face.

Y/N approached the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. She carefully lay down beside him, positioning herself so she could watch him without disturbing his sleep. For a long moment, she just observed him, taking in every detail. His dark hair was tousled, and there was a softness to his features that only appeared when he was at rest. She felt a swell of affection as she noted the faint smile on his lips, wondering if he was dreaming of something pleasant.

The room was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of his breathing. Y/N reached out, her fingers barely brushing his cheek before she drew them back, not wanting to wake him too abruptly. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, a comforting presence that she had missed so much. Her heart ached with a mix of love and longing, overwhelmed by the sight of him so close yet so unaware of her presence.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N leaned in closer, her lips hovering near his ear.

"Chris." She whispered softly, her voice barely more than a breath. "Wake up, pretty boy."

Chris stirred slightly but didn't open his eyes, better accommodating his position.

"Five more minutes, babe." He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. There was a pause, and then his eyes snapped open. "Wait, babe?" He lifted his head from the pillow, and when he saw Y/N lying beside him, his eyes widened in shock, his body sitting up abruptly. "Y/N?"

She smiled, tears of happiness welling in her eyes, sitting up to be on the same level as him.

"Happy birthday, Chris." She said, her voice filled with warmth and love.

Chris blinked a few times as if trying to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Then, a broad smile spread across his face, and he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Baby, oh my God! I can't believe you're here!" He exclaimed, his voice a mix of joy and disbelief.

"I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything." She replied, hugging him back just as tightly. "I wanted to surprise you."

Chris pulled back slightly, looking at her with a mixture of awe and adoration.

"This is the best birthday present ever." He said, his eyes shining with happiness. "I was so sad you couldn't be here, and now... you're really here."

Y/N laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

"I'm here, Chris. I'm really here, and I'm not going anywhere else." She whispered, her thumb caressing his forehead softly, traveling to his brows and cheek bones. "Okay?"

"I've missed you so much." He muttered, his hands snaking up her shoulders to her face, cupping her cheeks, his fingers threading into her hair, and finally brought his lips crashing down onto hers in a hard, heated kiss. The intensity of it took her breath away, her knees going weak as she clung to him for support, her hands lowering to his jaw.

Chris kissed her with a desperation that spoke of all the days they had been apart, his lips moving against hers with a raw, unrestrained passion. His hands moved to her waist, gripping her tightly as he pulled her onto his lap, settling her straddling him. The closeness sent a shiver down her spine, and she could feel the rapid thud of his heart against her chest, mirroring her own.

Y/N's hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she kissed him back with equal fervor. The kiss deepened, their tongues meeting in a heated dance that left them both gasping for air. Chris's hands roamed over her back, pulling her closer as if trying to erase the distance that had been between them. He groaned softly against her lips, a sound that sent a rush of warmth through her.

Y/N could feel the world spinning around her, her senses overwhelmed by Chris's touch, his taste, his scent. His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, exploring, and killing all the bad feelings he felt away from her.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Chris buried his head in the crook of her neck, his breathing ragged hitting against her skin.

"I love you so much, babe." He whispered against her skin, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much I've missed you. This is the best gift I could ever ask for."

Y/N's heart swelled with love and tenderness as she held him close, feeling his vulnerability and happiness. She could feel his tears wetting her skin, and she gently stroked his back, comforting him.

"Oh, honey, don't cry." She whispered, her voice soft while her hands traveled to his hair, massaging his curls. "I love you. So much."

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, their hearts beating in sync. Eventually, they pulled apart, and Chris took a deep breath, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days.

"Come on." He said, his voice switching to one full of excitement. "Let's go downstairs, I can smell breakfast from here."

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[dreamsteddie]

Once Steve and Eddie come out to the broader world, Eddie's floodgates open, and before interviewers can even think to ask about his "long-term partner and love of my life" Eddie starts gabbing about Steve almost as soon as a microphone is put near his face.

At first, Eddie refuses any and all requests to be on talk shows or long-form interviews. Steve himself has no desire to be interviewed ever, and Eddie wants the media hype to die down before he makes any big appearances off the stage. He knows that if he does the conversation will be a glorified investigation into his private life no holds bared.

So Eddie takes the occasional question after a show or on the red carpet but always dominates the conversation and finishes quickly. He's always dropping little tidbits about Steve, even if it's just talking about whether or not he was able to make the show or how handsome he looks in their matching outfits today.

Once the hype dies down and the media vultures aim their beaks at another celebrity, Eddie agrees to do a couple of talk shows with the rest of the band.

Everything is normal. The focus is on their next leg of the tour and the music video they released last week that went viral. Right up until the last three or so minutes when the interviewer asks, kindly, how his boyfriend Stevie is doing.

Stevie.

As in Eddie's Stevie.

The name only Eddie and Robin have ever called him. The name that used to make Steve flush so pretty when they first started drifting together. The name that still makes Steve give him one of those pleased little smiles that make his heart pitter-patter in his chest years later.

Eddie's hackles are immediately raised at the audacity of this stranger to talk about his boyfriend so familiarly. His shoulders rise, eyes narrowing ready to say something scathing when the rest of the band notices and steps in. Jeff drops a not-so-friendly hand on Eddie's shoulder while Freak steps in to very loudly tell a funny story about the last time Steve joined them on the road. Emphasizing "Steve" a little too much as he does.

When Eddie finally gets to stalk off stage he's let himself get worked into a tizzy. Logically, it's not a big deal but Eddie has always been territorial when it came to Steve and has been even more on edge since they came out. The idea of anyone outside of their family acting like they know them, know him, just because he's married to Rockstar Eddie Munson and shows up in the occasional gossip rag makes him so fucking mad.

As soon as he's backstage he's dialing Steve's number, impatiently running one hand through his hair as the phone rings and rings. As soon as he hears the beginning of Steve's standard WASPy "Hello, this is the Harrington-Buckley residence, Steve speaking" greeting Eddie launches into a long rant about "the audacity of media vultures."

Steve doesn't say a word the entire time, just letting Eddie vent out his frustrations. At the end, Steve lets the silence linger for a little bit before speaking.

"Hey babe?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"I don't know how to tell you this but you've been referring to me exclusively as 'Stevie' since we came out. I'm pretty sure when we made the announcement you said 'This is my Stevie. He's been my partner for six years.'"

".....what?"

"In fact, I'm sure that's exactly what you said because Robin replaced all my nametags at work with ones that said 'My Stevie' because she has the sense of humor of a middle schooler."

"God fucking damn it!"

They hang up not long after. When Eddie looks up for the first time since he dialed Steve's number he's met with the rest of the band and their personal crew all wearing various faces of exasperation.

Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, he rocks on the balls of his feet and says "Sooooooo...I may have overreacted."

----

The next day, despite Eddie's hopes that his outburst wasn't that noticeable, his clearly irate face is the subject of every magazine and gossip rag at the grocery store.

Robin frames her favorite one and gives it to Eddie for his birthday.

[endearng]

Special guest

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: Olivia's birthday is coming up. She has a special guest in mind. WC: 1.7k Warnings: mentions of absent fathers (sorry); reader is borderline paranoid about letting her kid down; they are pining hard - Spencer looks at reader not so respectfully. Please, let me know if I missed anything. A/N: I try my best to not describe the reader so that everyone feels included, but I feel like I should work better on that. If you have any advice on it, I'd be very thankful to hear it! Second fic in less than 24h, ohmy. This is a second part to 'Stranger danger' Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

A few weeks had passed after the incident with the power in your building. Since then, you saw Spencer sometimes and he always greeted you politely. Olivia once told you that she liked him so much because he was a nice ghost — he told her stories about the books he read and she absolutely loved them, going to the point of asking if she could borrow them once he had finished reading.

Little did she know, she would never have to wait long.

Their interactions always made you speechless. How was your 5-year-old daughter better than you at starting conversations? You could barely look him in the eye, despite the fact that he always made sure to flash you the brightest smiles. You reciprocated, but then Olivia always had something to say: about his funny clothes, about the book she was reading for school, about your moments together — you had a scheduled commitment every Friday, to take Olivia to wherever she wanted to go. She was very observant, and, just like you, had the habit of taking mental notes of the beautiful places you saw during your walks. That's how she knew where the public library was and knew the best coffee in town — she demanded having the same beverage as you, but you told the barista secretly to make it decaf.

As you both put on your shoes in the morning to leave the apartment, you said, "Oli, your birthday is coming up. Do you want to do anything with mommy?"

"I want a birthday party."

That made you freeze in your tracks for a moment. You've been avoiding throwing birthday parties for two years now, because Olivia's day always ended with a tinge of heartbreak by the absence of her father, who had decided to leave the both of you and move overseas to, maybe, start over. It hurt you to try to comfort her with something you didn't have control of, but you did it anyway because you'd rather hurt yourself than let your baby go through that kind of disappointment alone. You didn't really know what he was up to, and honestly, you didn't want to, either. You were doing just fine without him, but she was his daughter and still a child, so you knew she still missed him.

Your hands were shaking slightly as you tied her shoelaces. "Bunny ears, remember?" You asked softly, showing her how to do it: you always did it in the mornings, but you made sure to teach her in case they undid during her day at school. She nodded at you, flashing a little toothless smile. "Okay, baby, we'll do that," you smiled, trying to ease off the tension.

"I want invitation cards. Like the ones you had!" She said, excitedly. You huffed out a laugh, endeared by the fact that she remembered all the papers you showed her with photos and other memories of your childhood.

"No problem, baby," you said, getting up, smoothing your pencil skirt and opening the door. She went to the hall to press the elevator button, "we can do it." You said, more to yourself than to her.

Two weeks passed and you had everything ready for Olivia's birthday with the help of your closests friends, Victoria and Jude. You were planning on throwing her party at your parents' house, which had a big, beautiful yard with space enough for the kids to play all they wanted. You had ordered Olivia's favorite cake, red velvet, and a lot of other treats that you knew she loved.

"You know she'll be drunk on sugar, right?" Victoria asked, laughing. She remembered the last time she took Olivia to the movies and she was electric during the way back.

"It's her birthday, once a year won't kill her. Maybe it'll kill me, but eh, what's the matter?" You joked lightly and your friends laughed.

Jude had a checklist in her hands. "Okay, let's go over this so we can go back to our yearly drinking like there's no tomorrow date. We have the place, the food, the decoration... oh, no. Where are the invitations?"

"Oh, I got it. They're in my room. I had to put it away because Oli wanted to read them over and over again."

They nodded as you left your living room, walking down the hall so you could get said invitations. You felt dread creeping up on you when you couldn't find them in the top drawer of your bedside table. "I can't find them!" You yelled loud enough for the women to hear you.

"Are you sure you placed them here?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Not sure what happened, though." You murmured, already feeling a little disappointed. "I gotta look for it now. She drew it herself and I took a lot of copies. I can't possibly tell her I lost them, she would be heartbroken." You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Victoria approached you to rub your arm, trying to comfort you. "Hey, we can look for it. We still have time." Jude said, smiling reassuringly.

"I know, I just don't wanna be too late." You said, giving them a tight-lipped smile.

So, you started looking for it in every corner of your apartment. You stayed in your bedroom, while Jude and Victoria went to Olivia's. You had cleaned the apartment today, a Saturday, when your daughter somsgimdz went to your parents', so that you'd have free time to spend and catch up with your friends. It was almost sundown, daylight fading softly and the lighting in your room was becoming darker as time went by. Suddenly, you heard your bell. Weird. You weren't expecting anybody.

"I'll get that!" You let your friends know.

Opening the door, you weren't expecting your neighbor. Rephrasing: the neighbor who Olivia adored so much. Spencer. That works, too. He has a name, after all. "Hey, hi!" He greeted you with a grin, looking shy.

"Hey, you!" You greeted him back. "Is everything okay?" You asked, a little unsure.

You took in his appearance. He looked tired, that's for sure, but it didn't stop him from looking like the most gorgeous man in existence. He wore his usual attire, carrying his caramel satchel leather bag. You didn't have an immediate answer, so you gulped when you noticed that you were looking a little longer than what's socially acceptable.

"Yeah, it's fine," he chuckled, unable to hold your stare for a moment longer. He considered, for a moment, that your daughter was the element needed for him to have a little confidence to speak when you were around. Well, shit. "I — um. I think these belong to you. I found it when I opened the door to my apartment." He handed you a bunch of papers. You blushed. You busied yourself so much with admiring him that you failed to notice that he had something in his hands.

He studied you for a moment. You looked beautiful that day. Not that you didn't look beautiful all the times you've seen him, but oh, well. Like the first time you met, you were wearing a dress. It was blue and it stopped mid-thigh. He had to stop himself from gulping at the sight of your bare, plush legs. It was different from what he was used to seeing you wear on working days, during the eventual elevator meetings. The dress hugged your curves beautifully, there was no question, like it had been made just for you. Your hair was loose and it fell over your shoulders. When you first answered the door, you had a worried frown on your face, but it quickly disappeared with his words. He felt relieved to see you get rid of your distress.

"Oh, goodness! Sorry about that. I was just looking for these." You gladly took them from his hand and your fingers accidentally brushed his. His hands were warm. "Olivia must have slided them under your door gap," you laughed nervously. You could feel two pairs of eyes looking at the interaction before them. You needed to brace yourself for their questions and very much possible teasing.

"Yeah, yeah. I supposed she did that, too." He laughed, quietly.

You thought for a moment. "You know, you should go. She really likes you. Talks about your conversations all the time and says she misses you when we don't run into you at some point." You revealed. It made Spencer's heart soar in his chest.

"Really?" He couldn't help but smile, even if he couldn't believe it. Not that you were a liar, but that it meant so much to your daughter to talk to him now and then. He felt alive at that moment, felt wanted. “I don’t want to impose.”

"Yeah, I mean, no! No problem, you wouldn’t be. We’d like to have you." You said, smile adorning your face. You took a card from your hands, offering it to him. "With us, I mean. It's going to be at my parents' house, we'll have a bunch of kids running around and cake." You surely looked like an idiot.

We’d like to have you, was all that he could hear.

Did you want him there for him or just because he was kind to your daughter?

Either way, "Thanks. I'll do my best to be there." He said, utterly happy. Saying your name lowly, followed by a 'goodbye', made your heart jump in your chest. You replied with a wave and a small grin. Your cheeks were sore from all the smiling. It was inevitable.

You turned around and had barely closed the door when Jude said, a little louder than her usual tone, "So, I see you found the invitation cards. I hope you gave one for Olivia's birthday party, not for a hot date." She playfully scolded you.

With wide eyes, you banged the door closed and turned around to yell, "Jude! What???"

Little did you know, Spencer heard it all. You know, thin walls, small distance and all. He grinned to himself, face flushed a deep red.

He was definitely looking forward to seeing you. And Olivia, too, of course. It was her birthday, after all.

[monimccoythings]

Double Trouble

I'm just saying that Wolverines have litters of two-three cubs or so I've heard. This poor man wasn't ready. While I work on my other wips I'll release this short drabble to the world.

tags: slight ooc!Logan (he freaks out a bit), pregnancy fic, f!reader, happy ending.

Twins.

The word repeated itself over and over in his head like a broken record.

You were having twins.

He stared at the screen in utter silence, looking like a fucking idiot. Twins. Two whole ass babies. Two more new additions to the family. He blinked quickly, several times, still not completely processing the news.

It all made sense now, why you looked bigger than the average pregnant woman, why he had heard more than two heartbeats and had rushed you towards the ER thinking that maybe there was something wrong with your hearts.

Fucking hell. He had already mentally prepared himself for one baby, how was he going to manage two?? He was barely an adequate father for Laura, how would he manage with two new babies?? What if he wasn't good enough? What if he was a terrible father? What if they hated him? Whay if YOU hated him? He wouldn't be able to live with that.

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, someone was calling his name, but the voice looked so far away and drowned by the constant ringing in his ears. The hand shaked his shoulder and he looked up at your face. So pretty, so sweet, his little wife.

She looks concerned.

No.

He doesn't want you concerned. It's not good for the babies. You don't deserve this. You don't deserve to be dragged into his pity party. You were too good for him.

"Logan, it's is going to be okay, alright? I'm here." Your mouth was forming words, but he could barely comprehend them. Had you always smelled so sweet? So enciting? The light from the fluorescent tube was enveloping you like a halo.

Your hand moved from his broad shoulder to his cheek, he found himself leaning into it. He always found confort in your touch, so soft and warm.

"Babe, I know you're scared." He opened his mouht to argue. "No, listen. I know this was unexpected, fuck I'm freaking out myself; we didn't plan for this Logan. But we will pull through together, like always." You gave him your sweetest smile, despite being terrified yourself. He could smell it on you.

Logan gave you a lopsided smile, or at least he tried to. His large hand covered yours. For a couple of seconds it was the two, no, four of you, all alone against the world.

He had always thought of himself as undeserving of love, happy endings weren't made for him. He either outlived them or drove them away. But now, now he had a chance. He could grow as old as he could with you, raise your kids in peace. No one would go after you, no threat against mutantkind would rip you away.

Two, three, four babies, who cared? As terrifying as that sounded he had been given this gift and he got to share it with you. He would manage, you would manage, as you two always did.

His breaths became steadier, much more calm than they had been moments before. Logan's eyes went downwards, to your belly, which was the current home of your future kids. Just the thought of watching them grow and develop filled him with a warm feeling barely known to him.

He didn't know why, but he was sure everything would be alright.

[mavrintarou]

[2:53 PM] Kozume Kenma

My version of Kenma

Warning: hurt to comfort & makeup smut

.

Kozume Kenma may look like a reserved and introverted man in public, but little did anyone know about the hidden facets of his personality that only you were aware of.

Kenma had a kink for cockwarming.

Any available opportunity, he wanted to be buried deep inside your pussy. Whether it would be while you guys slept, after sex or bathing, or when he was working (aka streaming).

However, the two of you engaged in a heated discussion, resulting in a temporary separation that lasted for three days.

You clarified that you would stay at your sister’s place for the week, giving your boyfriend space. Unfortunately, you returned to your shared condo with Kenma to grab more clothes and other necessities without letting him know.

As you noticed the closed door to his office, a clear indication that he was in a live session, you discreetly made your way to the shared bedroom to retrieve your belongings and depart as silently as possible.

You rummaged through the drawer of your swimming suit and stuffed it into your bag. After ensuring you got everything you needed, you walked out but froze when you got near Kenma’s office.

His door was wide open, and you couldn’t walk past without him seeing you.

Unless he wasn’t in his office.

Taking a deep breath, you moved your feet; even if he saw you or vice versa, you two were still on a break. Kenma was great at ignoring the problem, only wishing to brush it off or pretend as if it had never happened.

You looked straight, refusing to peek at the corner of your eyes to see if he was in his office.

“You’re really going to just walk by and not say a word?”

You barely reached the doorway when you halted, and your brow raised, surprised to hear him confront you. You tilt your head back to look at him; he sits in his chair, leaning back and watching you with tired eyes.

“I forgot something and just came to grab it, just pretend I wasn’t here.” Because you’re great at doing that.

“Come here.”

You looked away and let out a sharp breath. “I need to go; my sister is waiting for me downstairs.”

“Come. Here. Y/n.” He punctuated each word in a tone she recognized as his dominant and assertive voice.

You instinctively stepped back and positioned yourself between the doorway, standing your ground. “What?” you asked, making an effort to maintain your composure despite the circumstances.

“Come. Here.” He emphasized each word, his tone firm yet gentle.

You set your bag down before walking over to him, and when you got close enough, he moved like lightning, tugging you over and between his legs. His face was buried in your stomach, and his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs. “Don’t go….”

“I’ll be back in a couple of days – “ He shook his head, tightening his grip. “Ken, we should use this time to ourselves to –“

“I’m sorry; I don’t want to be away from you anymore,” he pleaded, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desperation. “Please, don’t leave me.”

Cupping his face in your hands, your eyes scanned his entire countenance, taking note of the dark circles beneath his eyes and the bloodshot redness in his gaze. Concerned, you softly inquired, “when did you last sleep?”

Being a popular streamer, Kenma often went for extended periods without sleep, sometimes exceeding 24 hours.

“I couldn’t sleep without you.”

You couldn’t accuse him of lying knowing full well he needed you to sleep. You are his drug yet his peace and when it came to sleep, he truly needed you to sleep.

“Ken –“

“Don’t go, please…” he pleaded in a whimpering tone she had never heard of.

Letting out a deep sigh, you tenderly wrapped an arm around his shoulder and ran your fingers through his hair. “Okay, let me make a call and inform my sister,” you suggested, awaiting his response. However, he clung to you, not letting you go. “Ken, let go so I can get my phone,” you gently urged, hoping he would release his grip.

Shaking his head, his hand began searching for his phone on the desk and handed it to you. “Just use mine,” he muttered, offering a solution without letting you go.

.

You found it difficult to fall asleep because Kenma’s weight felt like an anchor, making you hesitant to move for fear of disturbing him once he drifted off to sleep. You were familiar with Kenma’s affectionate hold in bed, but the way he clung to you at that moment felt different. It seemed as though he was afraid that you would slip away once he entered a deep slumber. His weight on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder with his breath tickling your cheek and neck. He had one arm pillowing your head with the other wrapped around your waist and your legs entangled together.  

After assuring your sister you’re okay and will follow up with her, you force Kenma to turn off his computer and sleep.

He shook his head like an exhausted puppy, “only if you sleep with me.”

It’s been an hour, and you can still feel his grip on your shirt readjusting from time to time, letting you know he wasn’t in a deep slumber yet.

His fingers kept twitching and you finally exhaled and whispered, “just do it, it’s fine…”

You should have known when he stripped down to just his boxer briefs, that he was considerate enough to leave just that much of clothing on. Kenma always slept naked.

Kenma was sensitive, when he felt his privilege had been taken away from him, he needed reassurance upon receiving it again.  

He doesn’t hesitate to turn you on his side and swiftly, any lower garments you had on are gone and Kenma is behind you.

“Lift your leg for me,” he whispers huskily.

When you lift your leg, he slips his semi-hard cock into your hot and ready pussy. Your body misses him just as much as he misses you. Relaxing your leg you let out a breath, “now, sleep.”

He let out a shaky breath that sounded much like a low groan. “Okay,” he whispered, voice clearly satisfied.

You don’t feel him truly relaxed and asleep until his hand slips inside your shirt, skims against your tummy until his palm is against one of your tits, giving it a gentle squeeze. His even breath calms you at last and lulls you to sleep.

.

You wake up two hours later in the same position, Kenma is behind you and still inside you.

He was deeply asleep and you gently pry his hand away from your chest before slowly easing his cock out of you. It was no shock to you when you felt a gush of sticky fluid release and you quickly squeezed your thighs close. Kenma had no problem ejaculating in his sleep. You have woken up to him, thinking he was awake due to his hips moving only to discover after he’s cummed, he was thrusting in his sleep.

“Don’t go…”

Looking over your shoulder, Kenma was barely awake, only enough to sense you moving.

“Keep sleeping,” you whisper, pulling the comforters over his shoulder.

He locked his arms around your waist, pressing his face against your back. “No, don’t leave me.”

Frustratedly you snapped, “I’m not leaving – Christ… just…” you exhale, “just sleep, I’m just going to be in the living room.”

Incredibly stubborn, he shook his head, tightening his hold on you.

“Let me go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” you assured, tapping his hand that’s locked around your waist. You felt a huff of breath against your back before his grip loosened and you were free.

.

You wiped the residue smeared between your thighs and cleaned yourself before walking out. You nearly swore under your breath when you swung open the door and Kenma was leaning against the doorway, still naked.

“Done?”

You blinked, “uh – yeah…”

Without a word, he reached for your wrist and tugged you along back to his bed. “Get in, please.”

You followed his command and crawled into his bed again. He followed and spooned you from behind.

“I’m sorry.” Kenma must have felt your tensed body. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you, I am aware of my behavior and how it affects you and I will change. I’ll talk out our problems, stop ignoring them.” He turns you around so he can see your face and tilts your chin until you stare into his eyes. “Forgive me, please?”

You nodded, “I forgive you.” You lean to press a kiss to his lips. “There’s no next time.”

You’re pulled into his arms as he confirms, “yes, there’s no next time, I’ll make sure of it.” He leans back to smile at you before kissing you again.

You’re rolled onto your back and knew where it was going. Your legs widen to allow him in between your legs. His cock was already pressed and rubbing against your pussy. “Please,” you begged.

He slips inside you and Kenma keeps a steady pace. He leans over you, supporting his weight on his left elbow right, “I can’t live without you, Y/n. You are the air I breathe, my life…” His right hand pushes your shirt up to expose your tits and groped one mound, tweaking your perky nipple. “I don’t ever want to be without you again…”

Your hands are placed on his waist, urging him to thrust deeper into you. “Me too, Ken… I missed you… fuck – ah… more… harder, Ken…”

Slow yet deep thrusts have you seeing stars. “Need you… need you…”

His chest is pressed against yours as he grunts into your ear. “Me too… always…”

The room is filled with skin slapping skin and the creaking of his bed.

You moan his name, belly tightening and your pussy fluttering around his cock. Kenma’s cock jerks inside you before following with ejaculation. You feel each spurt leaving his cock, shooting at your womb.

Kenma shifts you, rolling you both around while still intimately connected. You lie above him and straddle his body. “This is great makeup sex.”

Running a hand through his hair, he smiles, “agree. Again?”

. . .

E/n: I watched the Garbage Dump movie a few weeks ago and loved it!

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[azulpitlane]

vicious pt two I ln4

pairing: ex!lando norris x reader, charles leclerc x reader summary: you are trying to move on from lando but he refuses to notes: more dramaaa and asshole lando sorry, this is short cause i kind of got busy🧍‍♀️ part one, masterlist

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell and 3,268,379 others

yourusername emails i cant send is officially yours💌

it has been a long and emotional process writing this album but i loved and enjoyed every bit of it<3 im so excited to share this piece of my life with you and officially close this chapter and move on

thank you for the support, ill see you all soon❤️

view all comments

user OMGG IM ALREADY CRYING ITS SO AMAZING

user stfu is that charles in the fifth pic?!?

user it is!! he was credited in a few songs for instruments🥹🥹

user because i liked a boy hits so different when u know what she went through :(

maxfewtrell running on stream to listen to it

yourusername pls dont hate im still sensitive user omg noo i cant watch whats he saying about it?? user he loves every song, hes being so supportive and said hes team y/n😭

user her friendship with charles is so cute omg

user “friendship” rightttt😏

user lost lando but got charles, a win is a win

francisca.cgomes love love love💌

user omg i know charles introduced them

user ‘ill see you soon’ ARE YOU TOURING???

pietra.pilao so incredibly proud of you❤️ such an amazing album

yourusername p ily and miss u sm🥹❤️ pietra.pilao i miss you more we need to get together soon! yourusername otw to text u so make plans rn🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

user the fact that landos friends are still supportive despite the breakup tells me everything i need to know

user “officially close this chapter” new era fr🫶

charles_leclerc so honored you even asked me to be apart of this❤️so proud of you ma cherie

yourusername so grateful for you❤️ user JUST DATEEEE user now kiss!!!

Lando so you and y/n huh?

Charles she's my friend is that a problem?

Lando i dont remember ever introducing you two?

Charles not that its any of your concern but i introduced myself last year on the paddock while you were too busy ignoring her

Lando so when i had back turned, you took the chance to steal my girlfriend?

Charles dont try turning this into something its not she's trying to move on so i think its time you do the same lando dont ask about her again. read

f1gossip

463,582 likes

f1gossip Following Y/n Y/l/n's album release, Lando and Charles have unfollowed each other on instagram! It is not confirmed if Y/n is the reason why, but it is heavily speculated. It seems Lando was the first to unfollow and Charles quickly followed suit.

view all comments

user all too much for little lando norris

user y/n breaking up a friendship now🙄

user she didnt do anything except release an album on how she felt, if lando gets offended by that then hes clearly the problem here

user 16 4 fans lost today but then again lando started it🤷‍♀️

user karma works in funny ways @landonorris

user lando has every right to be mad imo

user not at all, he treated her like shit then cheated and now hes mad she has friends in f1? make it make sense

user why watch soap operas when you can watch f1

user 2024 season is gonna HIT

user charles is going to have the motivation for wdc now, ferrari fans won🙏

user even though im a lando fan, i have to be team charles and y/n on this one sorry

user yup, after listening to her album i definitely support y/n

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 3,295,204 others

yourusername first time performing my new album at my one night show was the best time ever!! thank you for all that showed up you were an amazing crowd❤️

and just in case you missed my little announcement, bet u wanna is my next single of this album...this one's a little funny when you know the context🙊

view all comments

user wish i was able to go :(

user WHATS THE CONTEXT??

user listen to the lyrics, lando definetly wanted her back after his side girl cheated AHAH

user i need to know if charles was there

francisca.cgomes such a wonderful night💌 liked by yourusername

user your stage presence is so amazing

luisinhaoliveira99 so great seeing you🤍 liked by yourusername

user SHE WAS THERE?!? user pls tell me you guys took pictures together

user bet u wanna is so good omg

user are you opening for eras tour in europe

user it is rumored, i hope its true😭

f1gossip

376,845 likes

f1gossip Charles, Pierre, Kika and Luisa leaving Y/n Y/l/n's concert in LA tonight! Thoughts on the singer's new friendship with the drivers and girls?

view all comments

user i love them😭❤️

user i was there and saw charles with pierre and kika singing along to every song🥹

user SHUT UPPPP user stop theyre so cute

user luisa and y/n mean everything to me

user them supporting y/n despite the drama with lando shows a lot about him

user ive never wanted to part of a gc so bad

user charles is so supportive, yk who wouldnt be....

user i need them to date, he would treat y/n so good

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,402,440 others

scuderiaferrari Special guest for the first qualification of the season! Thanks for coming to the our garage❤️

tagged yourusername

view all comments

user OMFGGG

user i need pics of her and charles NOW

user charles got p1 cause bae was watching🙈

user is she staying all weekend!?!

user her and charles supporting each other omg

user are they finally dating??

user he was asked about it in an interview and he said they were just friends! user ugh can charles make a move already? i dont want another lando situation..

user i wonder if she bumped into lando😳

Lando was y/n really in ferrari garage?

Carlos yeah... are you okay mate?

Lando how can i be? he stole my girlfriend and is now parading her around the paddock its fucked up

Carlos he did say they were just friends and i didnt see them acting like a couple or anything

Lando there's gotta be something more i just need y/n to see who he really is

Carlos i dont know, maybe its time you move on mate

Lando no, i cant give up now do you have an extra paddock pass?

Carlos why...

Lando remember charles' crazy ex girlfriend who was obsessed with him? i heard shes in town to see him what if we send her the paddock pass so she can show y/n how charles treated her

Carlos this seems a little crazy lando why dont you just talk to y/n?

Lando she wont even let me get near her just please carlos? and then i wont ever bring it up again if it doesnt work

Carlos fine but dont tell anybody about this

Lando thank you mate, i owe you

tags: @iamahallucinationnn, @sofiacblair

[adalindofcabinsix]

that kind of love never dies | chapter one

summary: the one where barbara thinks about an act of rebellion.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.3K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: even though she lives in the usa, my main character, barbara, is brazilian. i added terms and expressions that we use in our country, as well as cultural elements, to this fanfic. the words that appear in portuguese are highlighted and you can contact me if you have any questions.

masterlist

Barbara was sprawled out on the dorm carpet, reading a Lucy Maud Montgomery novel she found by chance in the university library, when her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Without wasting time, she closed the book and got up, waiting to hear from her roommate, Meera, but, when Barbara swiped her finger across the lock screen, she found some text messages from an unknown number.

i would like to invite you again to eat something at that chinese restaurant

if you want to meet me, just show up there tomorrow

i'll be waiting for you :)

Her head started to throb just at the possibility of it being who she was imagining, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

Jake wouldn't put himself in danger like that.

After everything that happened in Grimrock, Duskwood's chief of police, Alan Bloomgate, personally went after her to conduct the interrogation, and, more than once, made it very clear that it was best for her to stay away from her new friends for a while. He didn't go into detail when he told her about what happened at the Ironsplinter Mine, but he confirmed that Richy was alive — despite having some serious injuries — and that Jake had fled from the FBI agents during the confusion caused by the explosion.

All the messages she sent and received during that time became evidence. Barbara had what it took to close Hannah Donfort's case literally in the palm of her hand, including the kidnapper's confession.

Consequently, she also had the means that could lead the people who were after Jake straight to him.

She was interrogated by the FBI countless times for months, until Alan decided to intervene and convinced her to hand over her cell phone to them in exchange for her old life. Since then, Barbara has not been part of the joint investigation. Or at least that's what they say — she's too smart to really believe that.

For a few seconds, she considered the chance that it was someone trying to play a trick on her. The video Lilly Donfort posted accusing her of kidnapping had gone viral across the Columbia University campus. Even her grandmother, who lived in the interior of Brazil, found out about her involvement with a hacker wanted by the North American government. However, no one else knew about the brief conversation they had about the chinese restaurant.

Except, of course, the FBI.

Without a doubt, it was a trap. Barbara felt her face turn red. It seemed that solving an old international murder case, giving up her privacy, being forced to abandon her group of friends and possibly cheating on the guy she was in love with was not enough. She also needed to act as bait when it was convenient.

Barbara huffed, irritated. Little did they know that Jake had no contact. Their partnership in crime had ended almost a year ago.

Still, there was no reason to decline the invitation. She could very well take advantage of the opportunity to tell some truths to those nosy agents, and as a bonus she would have an excuse to go to Germany without Alan being able to question her too openly.

Her lips lifted into a smile as the plan emerged in her mind.

After going through customs at Zurich Airport, picking up luggage and going to an exchange office to exchange some notes, only an hour and fifteen minutes by car separated Barbara from Duskwood. Luckily, there were several yellow taxis forming a line next to the sidewalk, because it would be a nightmare to have to deal with someone trying to compete for the same vehicle as her.

She walked out of the lounge, pulling her hot pink rolling suitcase, and turned on her smartphone to announce on the family's group chat that she had arrived safely. But before she could check her contact list to see if her parents were online, she collided with a young man's broad chest.

She jumped away from him, apologizing — or at least trying to — in german. He laughed softly, grabbing her arm to stop her from tripping over herself, and for a moment, Barbara forgot to even breathe. The young man seemed to be a few years older than her, he was tall, had dark hair and prominent round eyes that resembled the curve of a teardrop, he was wearing a white sweatshirt with a hood and black jeans.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see you.” He spoke in english, with a slight accent.

“No problem, it was my fault.” Barbara quickly straightened up, realizing that she had somehow stared too long.

The young man analyzed her from head to toe with amusement before bending down and picking up the cell phone that had flown out of her hand during the impact.

“I believe this is yours.” He joked, handing the device to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded curtly and turned, making his way through the travelers entering and exiting the airport, as silent as a wraith.

She was inexplicably disappointed to see him leave, however she had more important things to deal with. Then, she handed the luggage to the driver to put in the trunk and got into the taxi, giving the address of the Gates Hotel, on the outskirts of Duskwood.

Barbara ran across the room, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. She was considerably late, but as far as she remembered, she had never arrived on time to participate in the interrogations, so whoever was waiting for her at the restaurant wouldn't mind too much. She put on a black strapless dress, put on her highest heels and curled her wet hair with her fingers, leaving a small trail of water on the floor.

Through an opening in the peach curtains, she noticed that the rain had picked up outside, beating violently against the window pane. She cursed under her breath, hoping someone at the front desk could lend her an umbrella, and before Barbara could procrastinate her meeting with the FBI Special Agent any further, she took one last look at the floor mirror near the entrance hall, realizing that she was dressed for revenge.

“Someone would definitely approve of that.”

Smiling to herself, she went down a small flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the girl at the reception was reading a magazine with Nicholas Galitzine's photo on the cover.

“How can I help you?” She asked in english, without taking her eyes off the celebrity gossip.

“Hey, how you doin'? Could you lend me an umbrella, please?”

“Of course.” She said, reaching for the object under the counter and handing it to her. “A fee of two euros will be added to your room bill.” Barbara sighed, surprised, as she mentally converted the currency. “What?” The receptionist looked up, frowning. “Did you think it would be free?”

“No, obviously not.” Barbara lied, smiling politely.

“Return it by midnight or I will have to charge the full value of the item.” The girl announced, turning her attention to the magazine. Then she added: “Nice dress.”

“Okay, I'll pay when I check out.” She assured, walking towards the glass doors while opening her rented umbrella. “And thank you.”

“Have fun, Cinderella!”

Barbara regretted walking out the door as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. Not just because of the rain, but because of the wind blowing your hair back. In any case, she had come too far to give up, and despite the storm, she could see the lights of the chinese restaurant through the blue haze a few meters ahead, on the other side of the street.

Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

“What?” She blinked in amazement at the handsome young man she had met at the airport.

“Come with me.” He said, pulling her away from the hotel entrance.

“You are crazy? I do not know you!” Barbara shouted, dropping the umbrella near her feet. The rain completely drenched them both in moments. “Me solta!”

“Barbara, please.” He asked, breathing short.

The sadness in his voice stopped her struggling.

“How do you…?” She gasped, eyes wide. “Jake?”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

[onsomenewsht]

De pelearnos y odiarnos y amarnos después

About when she was everything for you, but you were just one more fan

《 shout out to @p0orbaby for putting up with this shit, making it less shitty and being the only reason Alexia has feelings in the first place

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +3.7k

》 player [noun]: 1. a person who participates in or is skilled at some game or sport; 3. an actor: a theatrical performer, a person who plays parts on the stage; 5. a person who engages in casual and indiscriminate sexual relationships.

Barcelona is not that big of a city if you stop and think about it.

Especially when you end up in the same places with the same people, especially when your circle of family and friends is pretty tight. Especially when you work in a world as small as the women’s football one.

You and Alexia Putellas crossed paths a lot of times before coming up with the brilliant idea of braiding and twisting your lives together.

And it was fun.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

“I got your coffee”

“Oh, you’re still here”

The smile on your face doesn’t falter, even if her words will ricochet in your mind for a long time, so you keep sipping your coffee and mindlessly scrolling through your phone after booking your ride back home.

It’s quite early, you know she has training in an hour, but the late-night activities you indulged in must have tired the Catalan more than she expected as you woke up before her.

Usually, you don’t even find her in the apartment when you drift out of sleep, slowly collecting your things and leaving the empty place with a pair of keys to hide under a plant vase.

“I had time to go to the cafeteria around the corner, you slept through your first alarm”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”, it’s not really a question as she sprints up to the bathroom.

It’s known Alexia is quite strict with her routine and her absolute devotion to her passion and profession, you’re not really phased about her rush. Eating the pasties that came with your drinks is a good enough distraction as you leave the blonde to her morning rituals.

Your ride is going to be ten whole minutes later than expected anyway.

When she joins you in the kitchen, already dressed in training attire, it’s clear she will not indulge and sit to have breakfast with you. Not deeming her of a look, you hand the footballer her coffee and favourite treat.

“Thank you”, she smiles at you.

How Alexia manages to turn your day upside down in a matter of moments, just with casually cruel words or well-placed kisses, still goes beyond you.

Her lips on your neck are a proven method and a really effective distraction to keep herself on your good side, she’s out of the door as soon as she hears your moan and feels your shoulders relax under her hands.

~

The club is packed as you make your entrance, the sudden change of temperature causing a shiver to go down your exposed back.

Despite the number of bodies dancing around each other, you spot your friends pretty easily – the loudest group in the most secluded corner of the place. Laughs and screams are thundering above the reggaeton music as you get closer.

“Here she is, the princess herself, blessing us commoners with her presence!”

“Fuck you”, you hit your best friend Jordi with a forceful punch on his shoulder but a genuine smile lighting up your features.

“Not my fault we can barely remember your face nowadays”

“Yet I still have to look at your stupid one”

He doesn’t mind your hand on his face, annoyingly shoving him off as you take a free seat at the table and greet all your other friends. It’s been a while since the last time you went out with them.

The night gets intense quickly as you finish your third drink and hit the dance floor with Jordi. You two have been friends since even before you can remember, learning to walk together and bonding over shared happy memories and sad heartbreaks.

He was the first person you came out to, not regretting telling him even when he laughed in your face, claiming he knew as well as your high school Maths professor did – maybe your crush was not as good of a secret as you hoped for.

You were the first person he confessed his fear of turning into his own father, not regretting telling you even when you booked him an appointment with a therapist and assured him that people are allowed to not like their own parents, but still love them in some twisted way.

Jordi is a great friend, the one you’re most comfortable with. That’s how you find yourself with your arms around his shoulders and his hands on your waist as the music blasts in the club.

It’s a freeing sensation, to be able to let yourself go in the secure embrace of someone you love.

A strange feeling crumbles from the pit of your stomach as another pair of hands circles you from behind, but you don’t think too much about it. Your body is always reacting to Alexia.

She doesn’t even have to touch you, somehow feeling her eyes on you the moment she entered the club with a bunch of cheering friends.

You knew it was a matter of time.

“Can I steal you for a dance?”

Jordi shoots you a raised eyebrow and a silent question, not amused with the whole situation and not quite happy with the way you’re handling this relationship with the blonde girl. He’s too supportive to say anything right this moment, but you know he has opinions – strong ones.

You nod with a smile before turning around in Alexia’s arms.

“He doesn’t like me”, her hands on your waist but her eyes fixed on Jordi.

“You don’t even know him”

“I don’t need to, he looks at me like I kicked his dog”

The tension is quite annoying for you, so you don’t even dignify her with an answer, merely acknowledging her disappointment by tracing her frown with your fingers. The Catalan hands are firmer as she pushes your bodies closer, following the music and the beats of your hearts.

“Wanna come to my place?”

“I’m here with my friends”, you half-smile, you told her a couple days ago you were going out to celebrate a colleague’s promotion.

“I leave for camp tomorrow”

You know, you plan a lot of your commitments around her crazy schedule.

All Alexia needs to do to convince you to leave the club is move her surprisingly caring hands up and down your exposed back, whispering nice words in your ear.

She has you wrapped around her fingers, and she has no shame in turning it in her favour.

~

Football is a family business, flowing in your veins for generations with a grandfather who played for Barcelona and both your parents involved on some level in the sport.

You played for a bit, realising quite early you didn’t have what it takes to go professional, but you found your path toward the green pitch anyway. Making a name as a sports lawyer was quite eventful, now you watch a football game with one eye on the ball and the other on paperwork.

Finding time to just sit there, be present, and enjoy your favourite club play without thinking of the legal repercussions is not easy, yet you manage. It still comes with huge repercussions on your mental health, but that’s part of the fun.

When Alexia crushed your life, you thought it couldn’t really influence your already massive passion for the sport. You already watched Barça games, and you even already know some of the players.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The Blaugrana captain is like a magnet, always able to catch your eyes and lock them on her for the entire 90 minutes, filling your mind and somehow making you body reacts to her every movement. You don’t miss a game, you spot her immediately on the pitch or on the bench.

You smile just knowing she’s doing what she loves.

“They better win or I’ll personally go down there to kick their ass”

You laugh at Mapi outburst. Despite her attitude, you know it pains her to be in the stands to support her friends on the international stage, hidden behind a cap. Telling her how much you admire her stance on such an important cause, no matter the consequences on her own life, is not enough. You’re committed to changing the game for her too.

“Three goals are a lot to overcome”, Ingrid points out with a teasing smile.

“What side are you on?”

“Yours, always”

Seeing the Norwegian kiss her girlfriend’s hand puts a smile on your face, making it easier to bite down the bittersweet taste of jealousy for the amazing relationship they have.

Like if something shakes you, you drift your eyes on the pitch right on time. Alexia is going for a run as Aitana sends her a beautiful pass on her left. You’re on your feet even before the ball finds the back of the net and the crowd erupts in cheers.

The celebration is cut short, there isn’t time to lose, but you can see something sparkling in the footballer’s eyes as she indulges in it a little, spurring the supporters to be louder when she retrieves the ball to restart the game as soon as possible.

Her teammates pat her back as they get back in position, getting just nods and prompts to keep the momentum going.

Then Jenni is on her side and Alexia lets the tall woman hug her, smiling.

Is strange, the uneasy feeling that spreads inside your stomach. Your hands are closed in fists but your legs are trembling, as if your body can’t tell you’re on quite cramped seats.

Spain doesn’t manage to overcome the three goals, despite the team’s best efforts. You know the captain will be in a sour mood for who knows how long, and she’s not going to come to you for comfort – not the one you’re willing to give her anyway.

~

You don’t mean to overhear the conversation, you don’t even mean to be there in the first place.

A national team representative pulls you aside after noticing you on the stands and asks to talk to you – or better, trying to talk you out of a legal wrangle between the federation and one player you represent.

It’s a useless attempt, but you’re not ashamed to admit you enjoy quite a lot letting those men think they can overpower you.

He guides you just outside the stadium, talking over himself. The first argument is reasonable enough, you can admit, but you lose interest pretty easily.

As soon as the players start to exit the facility, post-game rituals cut short after the defeat, you immediately take it like the best way out of the conversation.

You were just there, right behind the doors.

“Cheer up, Ale, let her kiss it better!”, Jenni mocks the blonde with a tattooed arm around her shoulder.

“Shut up!”

“Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise already”

“No paradise, no troubles”, Alexia mumbles back, stopping by the door.

They’re probably waiting for someone, unaware of your frozen form just around the corner. A couple of steps, and they would see you. A couple of steps, and this torture would end. Yet you can’t move and they’re still arguing.

“She’s around a lot more, she sleeps at your place–”

“That happens when you have a fuck buddy, I can’t control what she does”

You never hear her talking about you with such spite, such annoyance in her voice. Alexia is not the best one when it comes to expressing her feelings, but you think she’d talk about your relationship with some emotion. Any kind of emotion, but this.

“Oh, come on! You’re cute together–”

“Jenni, drop it”, the Catalan’s tone is harsh and final, “We’re nothing at all”

Well aware your relationship is not defined by any terms, the casually cruel honesty in her words makes your head spin regardless.

You know the nature of the bond between the two of you is built on sex, physical attraction, and convenience for more than one reason.

You’d hope some respect is granted with the intimacy of it all.

When a couple of players finally exit the facility, Alexia is in the back of the group with a deep frown on her face. Your eyes meet immediately and you can easily tell she wishes you could disappear as much as you do.

~

“Are you fucking joking?”

“I said I’m sorry!”, the blonde scoffs as she reaches for her abandoned shirt in a corner of your bedroom.

Hiding the marks on your neck and on her thighs will be more difficult.

“That’s it, you say you’re sorry and that’s it for you”, you fear she doesn’t even know what she’s sorry for.

“I genuinely don’t understand, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to fucking care!”, you rise from your bed, marching toward her before she has the time to leave the room – not minding the height she has on you, “I want you to at least acknowledge your mistake, to really apologise for disrespecting–”

“My mistake?”

When she snorts right on your face, you lose it, shaking your head in disbelief. It’s pretty easy to believe though, it’s not the first time Alexia does or says something that genuinely hurts you and doesn’t even realise what the problem is.

This one time her dismissive behaviour and stubbornness are a bit too much.

The athlete tries to get your attention back, seeing you dressing up and pretending she’s not even in the room anymore.

It takes everything on you to ignore her hands and pleading words.

“You’re overreacting”

“You really should go, Alexia”

“Can we talk about it?”

“About what? You don’t think you have anything to apologise for, you have no idea how much you keep hurting me. Fuck, you were ready to leave a moment ago!”

Opening the front door for her, you feel her eyes studying your body as to read your mind and her action burning inside you in a way you can just hope will not scar you permanently.

Alexia has so much power over you.

You want to hold it all against her, keeping close to the last amount of respect you have for yourself. You want to scream in her face how disregarding she is, how much she keeps shaming your relationship. You want to lay out for her all the actions and all the feelings she has shown you so far, both full of love and full of shit.

“I’ll call tomorrow”

“Please, don’t”, you plead as you invite her to leave one more time.

“Then happy birthday”

Her lips on your forehead burn like a mark.

~

“This is bullshit!”, Alexia mumbles as she drops the papers with the speech you helped her write and rehearse for the past hour.

She has an interview on a famous British sports TV show in a couple of days, they give her a whole segment to talk about the development of women’s football in Europe, about her foundation, and her plans for the future. Then they informed her she should do it in English.

“I think is impressive you can hold your own in your third language, but you can’t pronounce this phrase to save your life”

“I think you’re making fun of me”

“I am, indeed”, you admit with a genuine smile on your face, reaching for her speech to find a way around the words for her.

The footballer watches as you revise the script one more time, her frustration softened looking at your pen dancing around the papers and your tongue trapped between your lips – a sign of your focus, she learned.

“I will cook dinner while you’re on it”, she states, rising from the spot on the sofa before you can meet her eyes.

It happens sometimes, Alexia could prove to you her effort, even her care, with nice little gestures out of nowhere.

A full breakfast could appear on your kitchen table as you wake up late after a long and rough night with the blonde, who left the apartment with the first rays of sunshine.

A ticket for a concert could light up your phone with a few days’ notice, making you cancel any plan and jumping in anticipation for what looks a lot like an actual date.

A bunch of flowers could be delivered at your place without an apparent reason, following weeks of radio silence, but you learned to read her inability to express gratitude with words when you hold her body and soul firmly after a particularly tough training session or media day.

There could be random gestures and small details, making you feel a fleeting sense of stability and a bittersweet taste of how it could be to be loved by Alexia.

~

“I think she could actually love you, if she tries”, Jordi states out of nowhere, half-empty drink in his hand and eyes fixed on your friends having their first dance.

“Excuse me?”

“The fucking queen of football”

“Yeah, I figured. Where’s that even coming from?”

Trembling hands find invisible creases to smooth on your dress, not a good enough distraction from everything around you. Your friends really went on and beyond with the wedding reception, soft music surrounding them as basically all the guests form a circle around couple.

“Just saying”

“You don’t even like her”, you bite back.

“I don’t like how she makes you feel”

“She makes me feel good too”

The pity you let wash over yourself is enough to turn your cheeks red with embarrassment and something else you’re not quite ready to admit.

You know she’d love you, the signs are all there.

You know she knows too.

Letting her hurt you in the process, waiting for a change of heart that may never happen, makes you hate yourself a little bit. Never Alexia, just yourself.

“You should put yourself first”, he finds your hand, holding it firmly.

The music changes subtly as your friends start to join the couple at the centre of the dance floor with their partner.

“You should go dance with Angelica, she can put up with you only so much”

~

You start to question if your love alone can bridge the gap between your lives.

Alexia welcomes you into her apartment more often, having dinner or sharing silent coffees in the morning instead of just letting you stay long enough to satisfy your needs.

And then fall off the face of the earth, ignoring your futile attempts to reach out.

Alexia invites you to nights out with her friends. Her hand holds possessively any part of your body within reach, sending cold stares to anyone who could move too close around you or no less touch you in a shy effort to get your attention.

And then pretends you’re not even there in the first place when someone calls her out on her behaviour.

Alexia saves her jersey for you after an important win, putting the piece of clothing on you herself in the family and friends section. She ignores her sister’s tease to turn the conversation around, talking about details of the game and weekend plans.

And then asks you to come up with some excuse to not attend the same plans she made right in front of you, the same plans you’re invited to by the people she loves most.

Alexia gives you something that looks a lot like love and then takes it all back, ripping away your affection and care without looking back at your deeming light.

“We need to talk”, she greets you into her apartment with unusual gravity and her lips curved at a strange angle.

“Hello to you too”

Fighting fire with fire is one thing you had to learn as your relationship with the Catalan grew, both in your heart and in your life – intertwining and rubbing off every single moment of your day and night.

Alexia takes the cold shoulder with almost a guilty nod, knowing inside she’s the reason for your harsh words and uneasy attitude around everyone lately. You show her colours she didn’t even know existed, and she manages to take them away from you.

“We should stop this”

You turn her voice off as soon as you register her decision.

The footballer tells you that this relationship, this agreement, isn’t working anymore. That you’re hurting each other. That she’s hurting you. She admits she needs to focus on herself, on giving everything she still has in her career.

She says you deserve better, you deserve someone who gives you as much attention and care as you give to them.

Not a sentence, not a single word, or apology matters.

A wave of shame washes over you as soon as you realise she has to be the one to end it all, granting you more respect than you had for yourself.

You stop her speech midway with a raised hand, you accept her decision with a knowing grimace, and you leave her apartment without looking back – allowing her to make any trace of tears disappear from her face.

~

In the weeks that followed, it became clear how deeply your lives intertwined over the time you spent together.

You have to buy a new set of your favourite body wash, your last one still in Alexia’s bathroom. The book you’re reading is still unfinished, letting you questioning if the sister was actually the murderer, as you remember you left it face down somewhere in her apartment. You accept the promotion they offered you months ago, booking a one-way ticket for a city that’s definitely not Barcelona but looks a lot like a new beginning.

You park up memories and try to let go of the hurt, both for yourself and for the end of something you know it’d be beautiful.

It was beautiful, but it was ugly and painful too.

When you find yourself in the stands of a filled stadium, surrounded by high-profile men in suits and the most influential people in football, you can’t hold back your genuine smile as soon as Alexia scores a last-minute goal, securing her team the victory.

You’ll always be Alexia’s supporter, even if that’s the only role you’ll ever play in her life.

fine.

[novaursa]

The Chains We Break

- Summary: Otto Hightower comes to negotiate the release of his son. Daemon does not humor him. But you and your sister are dragons as well, who answer to neither gods or men.

- Paring: Gwanye Hightower/trag!reader/one-sided Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister of Rhaenyra and was bonded with Silverwing. These events happen right after The Flames We Share. If you want to read all parts before this one in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mild 13+ (chapters that follow will be rated higher)

- Word count: 4 580

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

You sit beside your sister, your gaze cast toward the window where the distant waves of the sea crash against the shores of Dragonstone. The sunlight, filtered through heavy clouds, is gentle on your skin as the salt air brushes your face. The wounds you sustained at Rook’s Rest have begun to heal—your body mending faster than your spirit. Every breath still carries a phantom ache, reminding you of how you fell from Silverwing’s back, the cries of dragons echoing in your ears as death nearly claimed you.

Rhaenyra sits close, her face etched with remorse. She hasn’t been the same since Rook’s Rest, the burden of guilt gnawing at her. You see it in the way her fingers fidget, how she can’t meet your eyes for long before looking away. She’s your sister—your queen—and you know the weight she carries. But you do not hold her responsible for the choices that led to that fateful battle. It was war, and war spares no one, even the innocent.

“I should have never let you go,” Rhaenyra whispers, her voice thick with regret. “It should have been Rhaenys. Not you. It was my decision that put you in harm’s way.”

“Rhaenyra,” you reply, your tone soft but firm. “You did what you thought was right. We cannot turn back time, nor can we carry blame that doesn’t belong. It was my choice, too. And I would do it again, even knowing the cost.”

Your words hang in the air, but they do little to soothe her troubled heart. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken thoughts, until you find the courage to speak what has truly been gnawing at you.

“Gwayne Hightower,” you begin, lifting your eyes to meet hers. “You must release him from the dungeons.”

Rhaenyra’s expression tightens at the name. The guilt in her eyes shifts to something more conflicted, more political. “It isn’t as simple as that, Y/N. He betrayed his own House, his blood, to bring you back here. Daemon—”

“Daemon,” you interrupt, bitterness lacing your tone despite your attempt to remain calm. “Daemon has imprisoned him, forbade me from even setting foot near the dungeons. He practically bought the loyalty of the guards to keep me away! But you are the Queen, Rhaenyra. Daemon may be my husband, but you hold the power.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrows, and for a moment, the sister you know peeks through the layers of the ruler she has become. “And if I were to free him, what then? Daemon will see it as defiance. You know how he is—he will not take kindly to having his authority challenged, even by me.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Gwayne, alone and confined, after all he sacrificed for you. A man who went against everything he was raised to believe to save you from certain death, only to be thrown into a cell by the very people he saved you for. “He did not deserve this. He did what he did for me, and now he is paying the price. Rhaenyra, please. He doesn’t deserve to rot in those dungeons. He saved my life.”

Before she can respond, Grand Maester Gerardys enters, his expression grim. “Your Grace,” he says with a deep bow. “A ship bearing the banners of Aegon II has docked in the harbor. Prince Daemon has gone to meet them, with his men.”

Rhaenyra stiffens, but your thoughts drift to Daemon, and what this meeting could mean. Your gaze darkens at the thought of your husband—how he holds Gwayne’s fate in his hands. He’s always been a tempestuous man, fierce and unyielding. The very traits that once drew you to him now feel like iron chains wrapped around your heart.

You watch as Gerardys takes his leave, the room falling silent once more. “Daemon may be the one to hold him prisoner, but I will not let this stand,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Rhaenyra. The decision settles like a stone in your chest. You have to do something. You owe Gwayne that much.

Daemon strides down the rocky path that leads toward the harbor, his cloak snapping in the breeze. The sea roars beneath, a fitting backdrop to the turmoil within his mind. His steps are sure, his presence commanding as always, but there is a tension between his shoulders—an unease that’s hard to shake. Vaeron, your son, walks beside him, mirroring his posture. Boy’s gaze is distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, but he keeps stride with Daemon, a silent observer to the storm brewing within.

“Remember what I’ve taught you,” Daemon says, his voice low but carrying authority. “In these dealings, never let them see weakness. We do not bend to those who would see us destroyed.”

Vaeron nods, but his thoughts are torn. He has spent his life idolizing Daemon, the man he believed to be his father. But now that illusion is shattered, replaced by the knowledge that his true father sits rotting in the dungeons beneath their feet. The revelation has left him conflicted, struggling to reconcile the man he loves with the man who has imprisoned his blood.

“What will you do with him?” Vaeron asks, his voice careful, testing the waters.

Daemon’s eyes flicker with a dangerous light. “With Otto Hightower? Or with the man who abandoned his oaths to save your mother?”

“The latter,” Vaeron clarifies, though he knows the question risks Daemon’s ire.

Daemon’s expression hardens. “Gwayne Hightower is a traitor, no matter his reasons. He made his choice when he turned his back on the Greens. Such a man is not to be trusted lightly.”

“And yet he saved her,” Vaeron says, his voice dropping. “Would you have let her die, had he not intervened?”

Daemon’s steps slow, and he turns to face Vaeron, his eyes narrowing. “Mind your tongue, boy. There are things you do not understand.”

“I understand enough,” Vaeron counters, his voice tinged with defiance. “You taught me that loyalty is everything. But Gwayne’s loyalty was to her, not to a cause, not to a side in this war. Can you not see the worth in that?”

Daemon’s jaw clenches, his patience fraying. “You forget yourself, Vaeron. This war is not a matter of sentiment. Your mother’s survival matters because of what she represents—our family, our claim. If you think Gwayne Hightower acted out of love, then you are as naive as you are young.”

Vaeron’s hands curl into fists at his sides, but he keeps his emotions in check. This is the man who raised him, who taught him strength, yet in this moment, all he feels is a cold distance between them. Daemon sees only the war, the struggle for power. But Vaeron sees something else—something more human in the man who risked everything for his mother.

As they near the harbor, the banners of Aegon II come into view, and with them, Otto Hightower’s grim countenance. Daemon’s focus sharpens, his thoughts already turning to the game of strategy ahead. Vaeron falls silent, but in his heart, the conflict festers. 

The wind whips through the banners of Aegon II as they flutter in the sharp sea breeze, the air thick with tension. Otto Hightower stands at the head of his retinue, his face carved from stone, the faintest flicker of unease buried deep within his shrewd eyes. He is older now, his hair nearly all grey, but the calculating sharpness in his gaze has not dulled. Daemon approaches with that characteristic swagger, a predator prowling toward prey, flanked by his guards and with Vaeron at his side. The contrast between them is stark—Daemon, vibrant in his ruthlessness, while Otto wears the weariness of his long-fought battles.

Otto speaks first, his voice carrying the authority of years spent in the small council chamber, dictating the fates of lesser men. "Prince Daemon, I come on behalf of my King to negotiate the release of my son, Ser Gwayne Hightower."

Daemon’s lips curl into a mocking smile. "Negotiate?" He laughs, the sound rough and laced with dark humor. "You truly believe you are in any position to negotiate, old man? What is it that you offer in exchange for a traitor? Perhaps another decrepit stronghold that falls to ruin as we speak?"

Otto's jaw tightens, but he remains composed, his voice cool. "You underestimate what Gwayne’s return means to the Greens. A gesture of goodwill in such tumultuous times could open pathways you might find advantageous."

Daemon’s amusement only grows, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "Goodwill? From you? That’s as valuable as a beggar’s coin. Come now, Otto, surely you didn’t travel all this way just to insult my intelligence. Speak plainly, before I grow bored and send you back to King’s Landing with nothing more than salt air in your lungs."

Vaeron stands to the side, his gaze flicking between the two men. Inside, a storm churns. He has known Daemon’s temper his whole life, the simmering cruelty always ready to break the surface. Yet today, that same temperament is turned toward negotiations that directly concern the man who is his true father. The words spoken twist in his mind—‘traitor,’ ‘exchange,’ as if Gwayne were nothing more than a pawn to be bartered, his life subject to whims and strategies. Vaeron keeps his expression neutral, as Daemon taught him, but beneath it all, the confusion gnaws at him.

Otto, sensing that he must tread carefully, adjusts his approach. "You dismiss too quickly what might be gained from a show of mercy, Prince Daemon. Your position, while strong, is not unassailable. A trade, even a gesture, could ease the tension between our forces. And you would gain much in return for sparing Gwayne’s life."

Daemon narrows his eyes, his amusement slipping away, replaced by cold calculation. "And what is it that you think I desire so much that I would let a Hightower return to his family? More land? An empty promise of peace? We both know that Gwayne’s life is worth more to you than any temporary truce you could offer."

Otto’s voice drops lower, becoming the tone of a man who has orchestrated more than one coup from the shadows. "There are things we could discuss—terms that could shift the tide of this war, perhaps even ending it in a way that leaves the realm less fractured. Aegon is willing to be reasonable if it means preserving our shared interests."

Daemon’s smile returns, this time sharper, more dangerous. "You think I care for shared interests? I care only for victory—unquestionable, complete. I care for the destruction of every man, woman, and child who stands between me and that victory. Gwayne’s life is a grain of sand on that battlefield. You know it, and so do I. The only reason he breathes is because my wife begged me not to have his head on a spike the moment he arrived on Dragonstone."

Vaeron stiffens, eyes fixed on Daemon’s profile, a silent witness to the deep ruthlessness within the man he once saw only as a hero. But now, he sees the cracks—how Daemon views everyone as a piece to be sacrificed for his goals, no matter the cost to their souls. He swallows hard, forcing his voice to remain steady. "And what of mercy, Father? Does it not hold any value in this war? Or is it all to be blood and fire until none are left standing?"

Daemon turns sharply to regard Vaeron, his expression unreadable, a flash of something indiscernible crossing his eyes. "Mercy is for the weak, boy. Those who offer it do so only when they have nothing left to give. Do you believe Gwayne deserves mercy for betraying his family, his House, for a fleeting moment of sentiment?"

Vaeron meets Daemon’s gaze, unflinching. "I believe that loyalty beyond reason deserves acknowledgment. Even in war, there are choices that define a man. He chose her—he chose my mother. If that is treason, then perhaps we are all traitors in our own ways."

Daemon studies his son with a shrewd gaze, weighing those words. The silence stretches until Otto steps forward, seizing the opening Vaeron has created.

“Let me look upon my son, Prince Daemon. Let me see the man who has caused this… conflict. If nothing else, I would know whether the man I seek to retrieve is worth the trouble. Bring him up from those dungeons, and if you wish, you can watch as I confront what my son has become.”

The corners of Daemon’s mouth twitch upward in a grin that holds no mirth, only cold amusement. “Very well, Otto. I’ll indulge this request. Let you see what has become of the son you so poorly raised. But do not mistake this for mercy, nor a sign of weakness.”

He turns to one of his men, gesturing with a flick of his hand. “Bring him up, but keep him chained. Let his father see what the consequences are for those who betray their kin for a moment’s folly.”

As the command is relayed, Otto’s mask of composure remains intact, but there is something strained in the tightness around his mouth. Vaeron watches, his heart pounding, knowing that soon he will come face-to-face once more with the man who has haunted his thoughts since learning the truth. The man who is more than just his mother’s savior but is also the father he never knew.

The minutes stretch painfully, each one heavy with anticipation. The creak of footsteps echoes through the stone as the guards finally return, dragging Gwayne Hightower from the depths. The man who emerges is a shadow of the knight he once was—his face gaunt, his clothes tattered, and his once-proud bearing diminished beneath the weight of his chains. But despite his disheveled state, there is a spark in Gwayne’s eyes, a defiance that has not been extinguished.

Otto’s gaze is icy, but there is a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or shame—as he regards the man before him. “You’ve disgraced us all, Gwayne. For what? For a woman who was never yours to protect?”

Gwayne’s voice is hoarse from disuse, but it still carries strength. “For a woman worth more than all the crowns and thrones in the world. If that is a disgrace, then so be it.”

Daemon’s laughter rings out, cold and mocking. “Hear that, Otto? Even chained and broken, he clings to his foolish convictions. This is what you came for—this pathetic display of misguided loyalty.”

Vaeron watches the exchange, torn between anger and a deep, aching sadness. The man before him is no longer the fearsome knight from the stories but a father who sacrificed everything for a fleeting chance to save someone he loved. The realization sinks in like a stone—this war, this endless cycle of violence, leaves no room for anything as simple as honor or love. It’s all twisted, corrupted by the ambitions of those who claim to know best.

The tension in the air crackles like the distant storm clouds gathering over the horizon. Gwayne Hightower stands before his father, closer now than he has been in years, his once-strong frame worn by weeks of confinement. He walks with a limp, the weight of chains dragging at his wrists, but there is still a pride in his bearing, a defiant spark that refuses to die.

Daemon watches the exchange with a calculating smile, his eyes flicking between father and son, delighting in the bitter reunion. 

Otto closes the distance, gripping Gwayne by the arm with a roughness that belies the controlled facade he wears. The old man’s eyes burn with a fury tempered by long years of cold, strategic thinking. “Have you lost your mind, Gwayne?” he hisses, his voice low, sharp as a dagger’s edge. “All your life, you’ve chased after her like some lovesick fool. You could never accept that Viserys refused your suit, that she was never meant for you!”

Gwayne’s expression barely shifts, but the muscle in his jaw twitches, a hint of the rage he has long kept buried beneath duty and restraint. He leans closer, ignoring the sting of Otto’s grip, and murmurs, his voice so low only his father can hear, “The boy standing next to Daemon is my son, Father. And that is all that matters now. My fate is inconsequential.”

Otto’s eyes widen, his breath catching as though he has been struck. For a moment, his iron composure fractures, disbelief and horror warring on his face. He releases Gwayne, recoiling as if the revelation has physically burned him. His gaze snaps toward Vaeron, the truth now laid bare, searing into him like a brand. The boy—no, the young man—is not just the child of Daemon’s wife; he is a Hightower. His grandson.

Vaeron meets Otto’s gaze briefly, not fully understanding what has just transpired but sensing the seismic shift in the atmosphere. Daemon notices the exchange and narrows his eyes, his amusement giving way to suspicion. His grip tightens on the hilt of his sword, as if ready to end this farce with a single stroke.

Otto recovers quickly, his face once again a mask of practiced indifference, but there is a tremor in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. “You’ve doomed us all, Gwayne. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You threw away everything—your name, your family’s honor, for what? To save a woman who could never be yours? A child you will never truly claim?”

Gwayne’s gaze is steady, unflinching. “I would do it again, Father. A thousand times over if it meant protecting her and our son. You can call me mad, you can brand me a traitor, but I regret nothing.”

Otto’s eyes darken as he processes the full scope of what has been revealed. He turns slowly to Daemon, who watches him with the cold eyes of a dragon ready to pounce. Otto studies Vaeron with renewed interest, seeing him now not just as a pawn but as a potential key to unraveling this web. He tries to capitalize on this revelation, his voice taking on a more calculated tone. “It seems, Prince Daemon, that the boy you’ve raised as your own has more complicated parentage than we knew. Perhaps this presents an opportunity—one that—”

Daemon’s face hardens instantly, his lips curling into a snarl. “Do not presume to speak of him as a bargaining chip, Hightower. I care nothing for your intrigues, nor do I care for whatever misguided sentiment your son clings to.” He steps forward, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “You came for your son, and I’ve given you this moment to see the disgrace he has become. But do not mistake this for weakness. Gwayne Hightower is nothing more than a broken tool, and I’ve no use for broken things.”

Otto opens his mouth to argue, but the steel in Daemon’s eyes leaves no room for discussion. He knows better than to push further when the dragon’s teeth are bared. Reluctantly, he pulls back, the wheels of strategy already turning in his mind, but knowing this is not the moment to press.

Daemon turns sharply to his guards. “Take him back to the dungeons. Let him rot where he belongs.”

The guards move swiftly, seizing Gwayne by the arms. Before they drag him away, Gwayne locks eyes with Vaeron one last time, a silent exchange passing between them. There is no plea for understanding, no attempt at explaining what words cannot convey. Just a look—a father recognizing his son, and a son realizing the depth of what was sacrificed for him.

The confrontation ends not in bloodshed, but with Daemon’s final, sardonic remark. “You’ve seen your son, Otto. Now crawl back to King’s Landing and tell your king that mercy is the last thing you’ll ever find on Dragonstone.”

Otto holds his gaze for a moment longer, then turns on his heel, a man who has measured his options and found them lacking. As he departs, Gwayne is dragged back toward the dungeons, his chains rattling with every step. 

In that instant, Vaeron knows that the next time they meet, it will not be as strangers, but as something far more complicated—something that even Daemon may not be able to control.

The clinking of chains and the rough shuffling of boots against stone echo through the courtyard as Gwayne is dragged back toward the dungeons. His face is set in grim determination, resigned to his fate, yet his eyes still hold that spark—the fire of a man who has found something more precious than victory in war. The guards are silent, their expressions hard and unreadable, loyal to their prince’s orders, despite whatever inner conflict they may harbor.

But as they round a corner, the way is blocked. Standing firm are Rhaenyra and you, their Queen and her sister. The two women’s presence immediately shifts the air, tension snapping taut like a drawn bowstring. The guards pause, uncertain, as their gazes flicker between Rhaenyra’s command and the one issued earlier by Daemon.

Rhaenyra’s voice rings out, clear and commanding. “Release him to Otto Hightower. He is to leave Dragonstone at once.”

The guards stiffen, the weight of conflicting orders hanging heavy on their shoulders. “Your Grace,” one of them ventures, his voice laced with hesitation, “Prince Daemon’s orders were clear. Ser Gwayne is not to be released.”

You step forward, eyes blazing with resolve. “And who is your Queen? Who commands this keep? You will do as she says or face the consequences. Daemon’s orders hold no weight when the Queen herself speaks.”

There’s a moment of palpable tension as the guards exchange uncertain glances. But the authority in Rhaenyra’s gaze, coupled with your fierce insistence, finally breaks their hesitation. They nod reluctantly and begin to unshackle Gwayne, their hands shaking slightly as they fumble with the locks.

Gwayne breathes out a quiet sigh, rubbing his wrists where the heavy manacles have left raw marks. He looks to you, a softness in his gaze that defies the bleakness of the situation. You step closer, the world around you narrowing to just the two of you in that instant. His eyes hold yours, and in them, you see the unspoken words, the regret, the love, and the inevitable farewell.

“This is not the end,” Gwayne murmurs, his voice rough but steady, his eyes gleaming with quiet intensity. “If my nephew has any mercy left in him, I will find a way to return. But if not… know that protecting you was worth everything. Every sacrifice.”

You reach out, your hand trembling slightly, resting it against his chest where you can feel the steady, yet faint, beat of his heart. “You’re the only reason I’m alive, Gwayne. You risked everything for me, and I won’t forget it. No matter what happens next.”

He leans in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and whispers, “Remember me, Y/N. And if this war ever ends, perhaps fate will be kinder to us in another life.”

Your eyes sting with unshed tears, but you manage a faint smile, brushing your thumb gently over his cheek in a rare display of affection. “I will. I promise.”

Before either of you can say more, the guards hastily usher him toward the docks, anxious to see him gone before Daemon can intervene. Gwayne casts one last lingering glance over his shoulder, a look full of unspoken promises and finality, before he is led away.

As they escort him down the winding paths toward the ship, the sails already being unfurled, Daemon and Vaeron catch sight of the commotion from a distance. Daemon’s eyes narrow dangerously as he realizes what is happening. His fury builds like a storm, the anger practically radiating off him as he strides toward the scene, Vaeron following, his own emotions churning in the wake of what has transpired.

As Gwayne passes by Daemon, their eyes lock for a brief moment. Gwayne’s lips twitch into a faint, knowing smirk—one that speaks volumes, a silent challenge, as if to say, You didn’t win this time. It’s a gesture that only fuels Daemon’s rage, the dragon within him rearing its head.

Daemon’s hand tightens on the hilt of Dark Sister, his knuckles white with fury, but before he can draw it, Gwayne is gone, escorted swiftly onto the ship where Otto waits with grim satisfaction. The gangplank is raised, and the ship begins to pull away from the harbor, sails billowing as it heads back toward the horizon.

With the Hightower entourage retreating, Daemon’s fury turns on Rhaenyra and you. He storms up to the two of you, his eyes blazing, voice like thunder. “What in the name of all the gods are you doing, woman? Do you realize what you’ve just done?”

Rhaenyra stands her ground, unyielding, her chin lifted defiantly. “I did what was right, Daemon. Ser Gwayne Hightower saved my sister’s life at Rook’s Rest, and I will not be the one to condemn him to rot in chains for it. Let the Greens decide his fate now. It’s no longer our concern.”

Daemon’s glare shifts from Rhaenyra to you, his gaze scorching with silent accusation. The promise of a reckoning lingers in his eyes, a vow that this conversation between you and him is far from over. But he turns back to Rhaenyra, the anger in his voice uncontainable. “You’ve weakened our position, Rhaenyra. Do you not see what this act of so-called mercy has cost us? We hold every advantage, and now you hand them back one of their own, giving them hope when we should be crushing it.”

Rhaenyra’s voice remains steady, firm in her conviction. “Hope may be our enemy, but I will not sacrifice decency for the sake of cruelty. This war has already claimed enough souls—if showing mercy weakens us in your eyes, then so be it. But I will not let this conflict strip us of our humanity.”

Daemon’s eyes flash dangerously, his rage palpable, but even in his fury, he knows better than to challenge her publicly. The exchange bristles with barely restrained venom, both of them locked in a clash of wills, neither willing to yield. But it’s clear that this is a rift that will not be easily mended.

Vaeron, who has watched it all unfold in silence, feels a small surge of triumph swell in his chest. For the first time, his mother acted on her own terms, free from Daemon’s influence. The knowledge that Gwayne is safe, at least for now, is a balm to his inner turmoil. Yet, even in his moment of quiet victory, he knows that the repercussions of this day will ripple far beyond the shores of Dragonstone.

Daemon finally steps back, his gaze returning to you, the promise of confrontation lingering like smoke in the air. “This is not over,” he hisses, his words directed more at you than at Rhaenyra. Then, without another word, he turns and stalks off, his rage still burning as he disappears from view.

The ship grows smaller on the horizon, taking with it the man who dared defy every loyalty, every oath, for the sake of love. And in that moment, you know that whatever happens next, the war has shifted—not because of power or strategy, but because of the choices made out of love and loyalty. Choices that may very well reshape the fate of everyone involved.

[earlysunshines]

chaos and kisses

pham hanni x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: your girlfriend arrives to find your basement flooded, she helps you clean up the mess, but not without checking you out and leaving kisses here and there.

warnings: making out!!! making out... dreamy sigh MAKING OUT!! ; reader has a tattoo ; so fluffy and cute ; mmm nothing else really ; not proofread...

a/n: short n sweet n a lil... freaky (but not really)... finally a fic less than 10k omfg I looovvved writing this and I looovee making out

when you invited hanni over to spend your day off together, she didn’t expect to find you downstairs with water up to your ankles. 

the scene is almost surreal: you, standing in the middle of a flooded room, looking more irritated than surprised. hanni on the steps – safe from the water – mouth agape, taking in the sight of your makeshift dam of towels and the waterlogged furniture. 

“hey babe…” you sigh, looking at her helplessly. “help… please?”

she blinks a few times, processing everything. “what happened? i called you… you didn’t answer…”

"um, i woke up and decided to do some laundry," you explain, gesturing to the water taking up the floor. "then i went back to sleep for a bit, and when i came back… this happened." you throw your hands up in exasperation, pointing out the waterlogged chaos. "fuck."

hanni stands at the entrance, eyes wide as she sees your flooded floor. she blinks a few times, processing the mess, before rolling up her pants and stepping in.

"need some help?" she asks, her tone a mix of amusement and concern.

“please.” you respond, watching her giggle as she ties her hair up.

she follows you toward the laundry room, you’re making exaggerated, grossed-out noises as your socks squish in the water, soaking through your slides. hanni rolls her eyes but can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. she manages to snap a picture of you trudging through the flood, her laughter echoing in your ears.

you glance back and catch her in the act, flipping her off. "really, han? now’s the time for a photoshoot?" you groan, but your smile betrays your amusement.

“adding to my lockscreen rotation.”

you roll your eyes and step further into the room, carefully inspecting the source of the water flooding the basement. peering behind the washing machine, you spot the pipe going into the wall, and water is leaking out. leaning in for a closer look, you’re suddenly met with a burst of water splashing all over your face.

"ugh—" you gasp, closing your eyes and flinching back. "fuck–"

you hear hanni snort behind you, so you turn around with gross, soapy water dripping down your face. you glare at her, feeling frustrated.

hanni can't help but stare at you with a stupid grin on her face. despite the irritation clearly visible in your expression, you look adorable. your hair, clipped back, is now wet at the front, your tank top is splashed with water, plus your shorts are miraculously still dry. hanni loves the sight, reveling in how cute you look even in this messy situation.

she steps over to where you are, you’re looking at the pipe defeatedly, letting the pool of water grow as you do so.

“hey, babe.” hanni says, then kisses your cheek. you turn to look at her with a little pout, which earns a quick kiss on your lips from her. “it’s not the end of the world. i’ll go grab some towels from upstairs and you can grab some duct tape to stop the leaking, let’s just clean up what we can.”

“thank you han.”

“mhm,” she says, then pecks your lips before her hand rubs the soapy water off your cheek. “you look really cute right now.”

you stare at her lips, then pout again. “you always say that.”

"because it's always true," she says, as if stating a known fact, before kissing you once more and trudging out of the room. you can't help but laugh at her expressions, mirroring the ones you made earlier.

–

the water had reached halfway up your calves by the time you finally stopped the leak. it takes nearly two hours for you and hanni to scoop up all the water in the basement and dump it into the shower to drain it out the best you can.

during it all, hanni looks too focused to notice the little splash of water you send her way, which earns you a groan and her cursing at you.

"y/n!"

"we're already wet! it's fine—" you're cut off when hanni kicks her foot up, splashing water onto your shorts. you gasp, scoffing at her and kicking water back. "oh, you’re so—"

you start for her, but end up tripping and falling into the water, landing on your ass with a splash and groaning as the water soaks you through. hanni watches the scene unfold, laughing and practically cackling at you while you use your forearm to wipe water off your face. you groan, looking up at her through your eyelashes, glaring.

“that’s what you get.”

“i hate you.”

“you’re sooo in love with me.”

a small chuckle escapes your lips before you sigh, looking up at her with a desperate expression. “can you at least help me up, baby?” you ask, sitting there helplessly.

your girlfriend giggles once more, then smiles as she says, “fine, fine.” 

hanni steps forward, reaching out her hand to you. as soon as you grip it, you pull her down, making her fall onto you. she lets out a yelp, and water splashes everywhere, soaking her as well. 

“y/n!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of frustration and surprise. “what the hell!”

“now we’re even,” you say, laughing as she sputters, trying to push herself up.

“i hate you,” she mutters, her eyes twinkling despite her annoyance. you’re propped on your elbows, her hands on either side of you, and her legs tangled with yours. as she pulls herself off of you, your faces stay close. she leans in, her nose nearly brushing yours. “you suck.”

“look who’s sooo in love with me.” you tease, grinning up at her. “and you’re sooo adorable when you’re mad,” you add before quickly kissing the tip of her nose.

hanni narrows her eyes playfully, then suddenly presses her lips to yours. the kiss is both tender and heated, the frustration and affection mixing together. you use one hand to cup her cheek and pull her closer to you

correction: it takes nearly three hours to get enough water out of the basement to start cleaning up the floating items and further mess.

when you finally stop bickering (and finally take your lips off each other), you both get to work drying the floor with half the towels from the upstairs closet. hanni scoots around, wiping away the remaining water with a towel under her foot, while you focus on putting the items that had been floating back in their places.

the scene is somehow domestic and ridiculous: hanni gliding around, determined and slightly absurd, and you methodically arranging everything with a focused frown. you share a few laughs despite the chaos, the mess around you feeling a little more manageable with her by your side.

it takes another hour and a half to finish cleaning up the remaining mess, but it’s honestly not the worst considering you’re doing it all with your girlfriend and your mixed playlist together.

hanni finds herself staring at you from time to time, how could she not.

you had been wiping away at a frame with your baby picture picture inside of it, back facing hanni.

your girlfriend stares at you, captivated.

the damp tank top clings to your figure, highlighting the results of time spent working out your back. each flex and movement makes hanni bite her lip, embarrassingly enough. she feels a surge of desire, wanting nothing more than to run her hands over you while kissing you. turning away, she works on drying things faster, motivated by the thought of getting this mess cleaned up quickly so she can have you all to herself.

–

when the two of you finally finish, you stand at the foot of the stairs, admiring the cleaned-up mess – or at least as clean as you could manage. both of you head upstairs soon after because you’re tired of being in the basement.

you groan, leaning against the counter of the kitchen and gulping down a water bottle you found. if you thought all that water couldn’t make you thirsty, you were so wrong.

hanni's thirsty too, but for a very different reason. she’s mesmerized by how the sweat and remnants of the sudden events make you glow, highlighting the curve of your muscles and the small tattoo on your upper waist. the glimpse of your calvin klein boyshorts band peeking out drives her wild too. the exhaustion palpable in you only makes you hotter in hanni’s eyes.

you turn, gulping down water and closing the cap of the bottle in your hand before placing it on the marble surface you lean on. hanni’s looking you up and down, smirking devilishly.

as you look at her, your head tilts. “what?”

“you look so hot right now.”

you snicker, watching her step closer to you. “is that right?” you mutter, placing your hands on the edge of the counter as you lean against it further.

she hums softly, placing her hands on your waist, just below the peek of the calvin klein logo. her fingers toy with the waistband, making your breath hitch. slowly, she slides her hands over your skin and under your tank top, her touch burning your skin.

your abdomen tenses as her fingers trace the ink of the hidden part of your tattoo under your top, sending shivers through you. her head tilts up slightly to meet your gaze, her overgrown bangs still damp and covering her eyes a bit. you gently push them aside, then swiftly shift your hand to cup her cheek.

hanni’s eyes are lidded, fixed on your lips. her hands slide further up under your tank top and make your breath hitch.

“my pretty girl.” she says, voice faint and desperate.

 her fingers graze your ribs before she closes the distance and kisses you. your other hand finds its way to her waist, pulling her closer. you can feel her heartbeat against your chest, rapid and strong. her touch becomes more insistent, her fingers pressing into your skin as if to anchor herself to you. 

the world outside fades away; it’s just the two of you – only the two of you when your lips are connected.

when you finally pull back, both of you are breathless. hanni’s eyes are bright, a mix of mischief and desire dancing in them before she starts to pepper kisses on your jawline, and lightly down to your neck.

you sigh, sliding your hands under her top and squeezing her skin softly. 

“h-hanni,” you mumble, feeling and hearing her mumble into your neck in response. “i know you’re eager, but lets clean up first. we’re all murky.”

“you’re still really hot even if you’re murky.” hanni mumbles.

you laugh as she pulls away to look at you closely, then quickly place both hands on her waist and maneuver her against the counter, switching your positions. she gasps in surprise, her eyes widening. you continue, mirroring her earlier actions by kissing along her jawline and down to the soft skin of her neck, nipping lightly with your teeth. when your breath meets her ear, she bites her lip, a shiver running through her.

“you too,” you whisper, your voice low and teasing. “i want to kiss you until your lips are numb, but we should really finish cleaning up and take this to my room.” 

again, you pull away, looking at the flustered, eager expression on her face. 

“fine… can i wear your clothes?” hanni asks, tugging at your waistband.

“of course.” you respond, then chuckle. “but you still have to give me back my t-shirt you took last time.”

“what t-shirt?” hanni says through a grin, making you roll your eyes and kiss her once more.

“you suck.”

“you want me.”

your breath hits her lips as you mutter back, “maybe a little.”

[thehighladywrites]

That's your mother, but she's my wife first…

⋆⭒˚｡‎♡‧₊˚ pairing: cassian x fem!reader, the inner circle mentioned

⋆⭒˚｡‎♡‧₊˚ summary: 18+ nsfw, mdni, light angst, stress, smut, fluff, praise, cassian channelling his inner general, reader being an absolute sweetheart who deserves everything good in life fr

⋆⭒˚｡‎♡‧₊˚ amara’s note: okay so I don’t have any kids so some parts might be inaccurate but close your eyes please🤞🏽i have nothing else to say, i just wanna fuck cassian so bad rn...

Spilled milk, mismatched socks, wailing babies.

Gods, what you wouldn’t do for a moment of peace…

Your children were usually calm, even when they were tumbling down stairs and running into tables, but during your youngest twin kids teething phase, they developed an interest for chewing on anything. Their outburst put your two other kids in distress, making it a difficult period for everyone.

In your attempt to keep your twins safe, you unintentionally became the evil mother for denying them the joy of chewing on concrete bricks, their father’s important books and a million other dangerous things that a child simply shouldn’t be putting in their mouth. 

They had been given enchanted teething toys made out of moonstone by their uncle Rhysand, but it didn’t keep them entertained at all. Safety was apparently too boring for them.

This morning was extra rough because Cassian had to leave early for a mission, leaving you with four kids. Although the two oldest ones, 7 and 12, could get themselves ready for the day, they still needed some help with some things. You were downright in a foul mood, feeling the weight of frustration and helplessness as the twins wailed and your oldest ones argued, all while trying to keep your emotions hidden.

“ You took the last pancake, Ves!” your son angrily sliced the remains of his food as your daughter, Vesna, looked at him with anger. “ I don’t care. I told you that I wanted it and you made no move for it, Therian. Blame yourself and be quicker next time.” she bickered back. They kept arguing about that stupid pancake as you picked your twins and moved to the rocking chair across the livingroom to sooth them. The kitchen seamlessly flowed into the living room, creating an open floor plan that allowed you to effortlessly monitor Vesna and Therian.

 “ It’s okay, babies. There we go, hush now.” But it didn’t work, they kept screaming and you were at your breaking point. You felt like the worst mom ever as you looked up, took a deep breath and blinked back tears. 

You almost yearned for Cassian's return, craving the comfort of your mate's presence amid the chaos. Yet, the nagging self-doubt held you back, hesitant to burden him with your distress and feeling a twinge of selfishness in the idea of asking him to cut short his mission. Despite the internal struggle, you chose to tough it out, convincing yourself that countless women had faced similar challenges, wondering if you could measure up to their strength.

Unbeknownst to you, you had been signaling Cassian with your feelings through the bond since this morning. He was already on his way back the moment your emotions reached him. He was just in time to hear your daughter’s frustration directed towards you, though none of you had felt his presence or heard him approach your home. 

“Mom, you're seriously failing at shutting them up. It's not dragon taming to handle two kids, and it shouldn't be this painful for the rest of us. How about you take them outside and only come back when you've figured out how to keep them quiet? Because none of us can stand the noise.” You looked at her stunned as a million thoughts went through your head. Guilt, anger and self-doubt took root inside you.

 Guilt, because was she right? Anger, because she shouldn’t have spoken to you like that ever. Self-doubt, because your fears and feelings about motherhood were spoken out loud. 

Your first-born had a sour expression on her face that quickly fell before she looked down at her plate sheepishly. Maybe she felt regret? But what made her react like that instantly? Your daughter could be hotheaded and it usually took her a few hours to calm down, but not this quick. 

Looking at where she removed her eyes from, you look and see your husband, body tense and wings tucked in tightly. You felt immediate comfort and wanted to throw yourself in his arms and fucking cry. How you had missed him this much in only a few hours was a mystery. 

His boots thudded heavily against the wooden floors as he approached your embarrassed daughter. “Look at me,” was all he needed to say before Vesna reluctantly lifted her head. She knew he was going to chew her out. He clenched his jaw in anger as he looked down at her. “Your lack of empathy for what your mother is dealing with right now is astounding. Instead of criticizing, maybe you should try contributing to the solution. We're a family, and we handle things together, not by throwing blame around. She's your mother, but remember that she's my mate and wife first, and no one speaks to my mate and wife with disrespect ever, not even you. Now go ahead and apologize to her.”

Your husband, ever the general.

With teary eyes, realizing the gravity of her words, Vesna approached you. “Hey, Mommy,” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact. She hadn’t called you mommy in forever. “I... I shouldn't have said those things. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh. I know it must be difficult and my anger took over. I really love you and I’m sorry.”

You were a bit surprised by the apology and softened your expression before replying, “It's okay, sweetheart. We all have our moments. Just remember, we're a team, and we need to support each other.” She nodded, still feeling a bit guilty, and said, “I'll try to do better. Can I help you with anything now?”

A genuine smile appeared on your face as your replied, “That would be wonderful. Let's work together to make things smoother for everyone. How about you start clearing the table and Therian picks up things from the floor.” She nodded and gave you a small kiss on the cheek before hurriedly making her way back to the kitchen table. Cassian gave her a kiss on the head and gave her a proud smile.  “I’m glad you apologized, and it takes courage to admit when we’re wrong. Let’s move forward now. Your willingness to help now means a lot. Thank you.”

Feeling the tension ease after the daughter's apology, your mate approached you. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “Hi pretty.” You look up at him with a thankful smile. “Hi lover.” He smiles right back at you. “I know it's been a rough day. I’m so proud of you, sugar. We'll get through this together. How about you go upstairs and soak in the tub while I take care of the kids.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, and wrapped his arms around the twins who had gone quiet.

Feeling reassured by Cassian’s comforting words, you smiled appreciatively. You gave him a tender kiss in thanks before scurrying upstairs, grateful for the support and unity he provided for your family. 

As you undressed, a delightful surprise caught your eye – the tub was filled, and a slice of your favorite cake awaited you on a nearby table. Gratefully, you thanked The House for the steaming tub and the unexpected treat. Stepping in, you let the heat envelop you, soothing the tension in your muscles. Time seemed to blur as you relaxed in the warm water — minutes or hours, it was hard to keep track. Exhaustion gradually overcame you, and your eyelids grew heavy in the comforting embrace of the tub, a sweet slice of cake adding to the calmness of the moment.

Entering the room, Cassian caught sight of you in the steaming tub, content and relaxed. A mixture of emotions flooded over him – admiration and a deep love that seemed to intensify in this quiet scene. He approached silently, not wanting to disturb the serene moment. Gently, he reached out to stroke your hair, his eyes reflecting the warmth and affection he felt. In that intimate moment, a silent understanding passed between you, affirming that you’d never be alone ever. You’d be there for each other and it made your heart swell. 

Curiosity lit up your eyes, you looked at your husband and asked, “Hey, where are the kids? Did you take care of them?”

A gentle smile played on his lips as he revealed, “Actually, Rhysie and Feyre picked them up. They thought we could use a quiet weekend, just the two of us. They’re taking Nyx, Ves and Theiran on a trip up the mountains but the twins are staying at the River House with Elain and Lucien. She made a special herbal blend that helps their gums, it’s all very Elain.”

Surprise and gratitude washed over you as you processed the thoughtful gesture. “That's so sweet of them, you remarked, a genuine smile forming. “A quiet day sounds perfect.” You exchanged a glance, appreciating the unexpected silence given by thoughtful friends.

“So, are we entirely alone for the entire weekend?” You attempted to conceal your smile as warmth surged in your belly upon meeting Cassian's gaze, only to discover him returning a heated look. “Indeed, sweetness. It's just you and me, alone. Whatever shall we do to pass the time?” His commanding, taunting voice always managed to drive you crazy. He had a charming voice that you could listen to forever. “I can think of a few ways…” you responded as you stood up, dripping wet. You beckoned him closer  and deeply inhaled his delicious scent. He smelled like home. Throwing your arms around him, you inched your lips closer to his, teasing him, not letting him get close enough for a real kiss. He frowned and slightly pouted. “Either give a proper kiss or I walk away.” You knew it was a false threat. Cassian wouldn’t ever leave your embrace now that he was turned on. 

But you decided to keep playing with him, wanting to see how far you could push him. 

“Yeah? Walk away then, baby.” You let your arms drop to the side, slightly tilting your head with a small smirk on your lips. You felt a surge of amusement as you observed him, jaw tight and knuckles white from clenching, meeting your gaze with defiant determination. “Stop fucking with me, y/n/n. You want me as much as I do.” It was his turn to return a mocking smirk. “ What, you think I don’t know you by now? You think I don’t know that you wanna be fucked until you can’t think straight? Little one, I have years on you. I know your body better than you. I’ll ask again. Are you going to kiss me properly or do I walk away?”

 Fucking hell. He really did know your body better than you since his words only fueled you on. While you enjoyed toying with him, it was time to throw in the towel. No way where you wasting any more time. With hands behind your back you looked up at him, doe-eyed and blushy. “I’ll give you a proper kiss, Cassie. Then please take me to bed.” He smiled down at you with a devilish smile, putting his hand on your hips as he pulled towards his warm chest. “ Whatever my baby wants, she gets.” With hands on his chest, you stood on your toes as water swished around your legs, putting your plush lips against his soft ones. 

 Careful, gentle, loving, comforting and really fucking hot.

That was all you could think of when you were kissing him. One of his warm hands roamed all over your body as his other one cupped your face, deepening the kiss. Your own hands stayed in one spot, your favorite place to put your hands. His chest. You absolutely loved touching his chest. Giving his pecs a light squeeze, resting against them, anything really. Centuries of honing his body into a weapon had made him look like a god. 

You wanted to dry off and move to your bedroom, and as if Cassian had read your thoughts, he grabbed the towel without breaking the kiss and wrapped it around you. He simply picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he moved to the bedroom before gently lowering you to the soft bed. Cassian caught your wrists and pinned them, crisscrossed, above your head while he settled between your legs, once again wrapping them around his waist. You kissed until your lips swelled and pulled away for air. 

He forced your legs apart, hand cupping your pussy. You let out a gasp, quickly gripping onto his broad shoulders. Cassian carefully watched your face as it contorted into pleasure when he pushed in two fingers, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let out a moan.

 “Feels good, wifey? ” Cassian asked as your nails dug into his shoulders, hips bucking into his touch. “ mhmm, yeah it feels really fucking good.” you managed to respond as you felt his fingers speed up, curling into that delicious spot that made you absolutely melt. 

He wanted to be inside of you, fuck you and ruin you all over the sheets. “ It would feel a lot better  if I had you wrapped around my cock.” He said, looking up at you through is his dark lashes, eyes full of mirth. You clenched around his fingers at the thought of him filling you up with his thick cock. It had been a while since you had been properly dicked down by him, since you two were busy with life and kids. Quickies, fingering and handjobs were all you had time for since the twins were born 6 months ago. As much as you loved your kids, you also loved alone time with your mate and it was rare these days. So of course you’d use this weekend to get fucked, and maybe that would help you relax a bit. Cassians cock had always been the answer for you. 

Mad? Get dicked down. Sad? Get dicked down. Happy? Get dicked down. 

Huh. 

No wonder you had four kids…

You nodded eagerly at him, “ Please cassie, fill me up. I really need it.” He sat up, dumped his clothes on the floor and positioned his cock infront of your throbbing core, teasing a bit. He used his fingers to scissor you open a bit. When you felt even more slick under his touch he retracted his fingers and licked your wetness off of them. He smiled at around his fingers and said, “Delicious.” Your chuckle morphed seamlessly into a moan when he slammed his lenght into you.

  He let out a sound of pleasure as he pushed himself into you. You clenched around his cock, you were so wet and slippery around him. He let out a pleased groan as he started giving you deep strokes. His pace quickened with the intention of finishing inside of you. He loved to make a mess of your pussy like that, fuck you full of his cum and watch it slowly drip out. Nothing made him more possessive than seeing his mate full of his cum. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart. Such a good girl for me, I’m so proud of you, my beautiful girl.” He knew the exact words you needed today and it made you feel so emotional that he knew you this well. 

You blushed. Pleasure crept up your spine once more. Your legs were starting to shake, sweat coated your back. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you as his strokes were getting faster and faster, his lips muffling your moans. He kept up the pace, feeling the pleasure flow through his body, bringing him closer to climax. He loved the feeling of you around him.

 He was addicted to it. He was addicted to you.

You moaned and arched your back as he continued to fuck into you. You wanted to cum so badly, and as if Cassian once again read your mind, he said something that almost made you cry.

“ Don’t cum yet.”

He must have caught your annoyed stare because he looked down, sporting his usual grin, and said, “I want us to come together. You can handle that, right, pretty?” Your brows furrowed as you attempted to feign annoyance, though deep down, you weren't truly bothered at all.

 No, no you weren’t mad at all because if he was adamant about you finishing together, then you’d do everything in your power to make it happen. You got closer to him, pressing a quick kiss before deepening it as your tounges swirled around each other before you pulled away, biting his lip. He let out a groan and it only spurred you on. You pulled out all your tricks, whispering downright filthy things in his ear. That seemed to do the trick. Cassian thrusted deeper and deeper, rubbing tight circles on your neglected clit before you came in unison. 

You moaned at the feeling, warmth filled you as his pace started to slow down. Your mate collapsed on top of you and your put his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair. He remembered that he hadn’t pulled out yet but before he could you stopped him. 

“ Please baby, don’t pull out yet. It feels really warm and good and I want you in me forever.”

You felt his chest rumble with a gentle laughter. “ Whatever you want, you shall have. You did so well, sugar. I love you.” You kissed his forehead and gave him praise back. “ Thank you, baby. I’m so happy you’re here, I love you too.”

Safe to say you fucked the whole weekend, everywhere, only taking breaks for food and occasional naps. But you also basked in the intimacy of having him. by yourself. Eating together, talking about everything between the heavens and earth, cracking jokes and just enjoying yourselves. 

You and your mate, together for all eternity...