#something's missing in my life... i have a family

[lovrsm]

“ꜱʟᴜᴛ!”

sum: Ferraris golden boy moves over to RedBull Racing Team.

Daughter of the CEO of Red Bull, you’ve grown to love racing, and in the way making new friends. Even if you felt like your world was falling apart, even when you denied it, he was the only one you needed. And there was absolutely nothing that could change his mind about your beautiful self, the way he loves you.

word count:idk, prb 2k

pairing: rb!charles leclerc x horner!reader

warnings: name calling, alcohol, smut f! receiving, first time writing real horny shit!

a/n: sorry for the long intro, I swear it’s worth it😔✋ LOOOL, I WROTE THIS LIKE A YEAR AGOO, and I rlly wanted to clear up my drafts but this is too good to not come out. Yet idk if I have any mistakes, if I do let me know!! Also, checo acting as a dad (#IloveCheco)

Spotify - Apple Music

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

“and I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman”

Clink, clink, that’s what our champagne glasses sounded like together.

“Congratulations, what a wonderful year. It’s been a pleasure being with all of you.” Sergio, Checo Perez, made a brief goodbye to your team.

He was leaving Red Bull. Everyone here loved him, and loves him, including yourself. He became quickly your family after seeing him every day for more than 3 years.

“We will miss you” your dad palms his back, making Checo break a smile.

“It isn’t the end yet, you know that boss.” He laughed.

His reasons? Family, everything for him, he couldn’t bare leaving them anymore alone, so he decided after, several years, to leave formula 1. After helping Max to win his championships, he is a fucking legend.

“Well, I won’t leave you alone, I will still drag you everywhere, you know? Even after you leave.” Max and Checo have developed a very special bond, even if social media said otherwise.

“We, wont leave you alone, you still owe me those therapy sessions” I winked at him, he became a very big emotional support for me, believe it or not, he’s got some great advice to give.

“Lovely dinner” I took a picture of all of us with my camera, a goodbye dinner for Checo, and tomorrow, all of the world would see this on the newspaper.

-

“I really don’t know what to do, do you know how many drivers have reached us out in the last 2 hours? I mean, I have a few options but they keep giving me more reasons and… I just don’t know.” My dad was stressed, typing in his computer as if his life depended on it.

“It’s going to be alright, okey? You don’t necessarily need to worry about it right now, we still have a championship to win, you know?” I gave him a cup of tea, just so he could relax a bit.

When something is about work, everything else doesn’t matter. At all.

“We’ll watch your options, alright? I can help you with anything you want” I smiled at him.

“When did you became such a great business woman?”

“You’re my father, of course I’m hardworking.”

-

“Red Bull did it again, Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez, world champion and sub-champion!”

Screams from Max and Checo blasted my ears, P1 and P2, again. Absolutely no mistakes. The internet going crazy. And somehow it all became quiet.

“Who will get that Red Bull seat next year? Will he be a fit to Sergio Perez place?”

Everyone went outside to celebrate, while I stayed so I could hear the TV and media.

what do people want?

“Ferrari didn’t have a great year, let’s hope they both get a better car”

“I agree! Great drivers, such a shame Ferrari has been getting worse every year. What a waste of talent.” The other interviewer said.

Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz appeared in the screen. Both with an obvious forced smile plastered in their faces.

Charles, my secret crush ever since… forever. Was I obvious? Not a single soul knew, well, except him.

-

Charles Leclerc signed in RedBull that was the only thing appearing on my feed right now . Red bull? Bullshit, you mean? What kind of a big lie is that?

Internet was filled with Charles leaving Ferrari for RedBull.

In what twisted universe does that even happen?

I later learned, I am living in that twisted world, and I discovered the great news in social media, and not my own team.

“What do you mean Charles Leclerc, dad? Why wasn’t I even informed about this. Wait, hold on, when did it even crossed your mind?!” I was dignified.

Following around the kitchen.

“I didn’t have to, oh, I do think I need to tell you this, he’s coming to dinner tonight so wear something nice.”

Wear something nice.

Thanks dad, as always, you’re so, so great.

Night time came sooner than expected, if my dad hosts a dinner, even if there’s a million, or just one person coming over, he likes to be extra.

-

Almost time, 8:00 and it is 7:50, all that was missing was the dress. It was placed on my bed. Showing all of it’s beauty.

Navy blue, our color. It was my dream dress.

Light, silky and fancy dress.

I walked downstairs, watching people running and arranging everything, doing just the final touches.

I’ve come to learn, that people arrive late, or just in time. Never earlier.

“Ah, what a beautiful young woman I have here!” Geri, my father’s wife came to greet me.

“You look amazing, I knew that dress would be perfect for you!”

“Geri, you are amazing, seriously. Thank you, and look at you! We both look gorgeous.” I smiled at her and we linked arms, she and I were walking towards the garden, where would be the dinner.

Some big, round, wooden tables were set in the middle. Each seat would have a name, decorated with a white flower in the middle of the plate.

It was easy to find my place. I was at the biggest one of all, where the most important people of this night would be seated.

Lucky for me, his name was right next to my plate.

In a matter of seconds, people started to arrive, old friends, and new faces passed through those doors.

This will be a great night.

“Funny to find you here, it’s been some time since I last saw you…” I rolled my eyes, I (sadly) recognized that voice anywhere.

“Go away Mike.” I grabbed my wine glass and took a big sip out of it. “C’mon princess, where are your manners?” He got too close to me.

“Hey y/n! Your dad was looking for you, like right now.” Max Verstappen here to save my day.

“Oooh that’s unfortunate, I’m so so so sorry Mike, hope to see you later!” I waved him off and quickly moved towards Max who then friendly linked his arm with mine.

“I owe you one.” I sighed. “You owe me much more than 1, little one.” I laughed at him.

We got close to my father, who now had a microphone at his hand.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming here and be with us tonight. A toast for Checo here!” He announced and a light was shining on Checo, standing from his seat.

“It has been a wonderful year, sadly it has to end. And I know I’m not the first to tell you that an incredible young talent will be joining us for next season.”

There he was. Navy suit with our logo on him. His hair was messy yet perfectly placed. He showed his dimples and I’m sure I heard someone behind me moan at his sight.

My heart rate was increasing slowly but surely.

“y/n, you’re going to squeeze all my blood from my arm. Stop.” Max whispered in my ear.

Shit. I basically dug my nails into his arm due to my tiny crush.

“Yeah, It’s amazing to know that I’m to race with RedBull next year. I hope we can achieve everything we’ve dreamed of. Looking forward to race with my lifetime partner, Max here.”

Now the light was on Max and me. I discreetly let go of max so that he could have the spotlight. As Max waved I looked back at Charles.

The dimples in his face showed even more, he was looking at me too.

“I can’t wait to work with these wonderful people, and I hope we have a great year to remember, thank you and enjoy this night!” He raised his glass and so did all.

“Well, I hope we don’t have any inchidents” Max laughed at his own joke. Dad joke I must say.

“Well If you don’t push me off the track I think we’ll be just fine” his voice gave me chills. I felt his chest on my back.

I wasn’t strong enough to turn around.

“Oh, shoot, you hear that? I think P is calling me!”

“No, Max-” I tried to stop him.

Around Charles, I barely have control over myself.

“Uh-huh, yeah that’s P, she wants to go to the bathroom, and she needs food, ok have a great night bye!” He rushed to god knows where.

“You really don’t want to be with me, do you?” He whispered on my ear. Feeling the heat of his breath.

“Why wouldn’t I? You are such a lovely company, mr Leclerc.” I gathered the strength and turned around, and his beautiful green eyes shined at me, making me blush.

“Look at you, could you get any more beautiful?”

He lowered so he could whisper again. “I’ve missed you” I looked around real quick, thankfully Max took everyone’s attention on the other side of the place.

“Not here, Charles.” I whimpered.

“Yes here, I can finally be with you, do you think I would waste any more time pretending to not love you? If you do, let me tell you, you are completely wrong.”

He kept whispering, his hands slowly finding his way to my hips. And mine to his collarbone.

“It’s not even 9pm, Leclerc, this party hasn’t even started” I fighted against my own will to drag him upstairs.

“You know I’ll wait, just for you.” He winked at me, before slowly letting me go and walking away.

“You’re not coming, mon coeur?” Charles turned around to look at me. “If you insist.” I happily walked by his side.

We walked and talked for a few minutes before Mike magically appeared before us.

“Oh not even 5 seconds and you are already like a slut with the new driver” He looked at me with a disgusted face.

“Excuse her? Don’t tall to her like that. Do we even know you?” Charles used a very cold tone on him. And Mike started to stumble on his word.

“Uhm, no, she does, like I was something to her-”

“Was, that’s a key word, pal. Don’t you ever talk to her, no, don’t you ever talk to any woman that way do you understand?”

Now, I can defend myself just fine, but that right there soaked my pants in an unexplainable way.

“Get out of our sight, man.” And he crawled away.

“That was hot.” I whispered and he blushed. “Your mother did raise a gentleman.” I smiled at him and he gave me a cheek kiss.

-

Lost on the moonlit pool, drinking my… 11th (?) glass of wine at 1 in the morning while everyone was still dancing, was weird.

My feet swinging as I drink the last drop of my glass.

I went on a side quest myself just to get distracted for a bit. All the noise was going to hurt my ears if I stayed any longer.

“Here you are, you got lost?” He sat down at my side. Didn’t have to look, his thick accent gave him away immediately.

I took a long breath and rested my head on his shoulder . “Yes, Charles, I’m going to get lost in my own house.” I felt him move beside me. He then had his feet in the pool, just as I did.

I smiled to myself.

“Has anyone told you just how beautiful you look today?”

“You have, more than once.”

“I couldn’t let that slip, you do look beautiful with that dress. It suits you just perfectly.”

He paused.

“But I bet you’d look much better without it.”

I nervously chuckled at his comment.

“You haven’t talked to me in ages, you came back being a driver for my father, and now you want to have sex? Why don’t you already make me your wife?!” I dramatically fell into his arms

“Ages? I talked to you last week!” He showed his teeth to me in a smile. “That was a long time ago! Besides, you never told me about you and RedBull.” I sit straight up again.

“I needed your dad to love me one way or another. How else am I going to get him to approve of our marriage?” He joked.

“You are unbelievable Leclerc.” I stood up, and grabbed my high-heels on my hand, walking back to the party barefoot.

I surrounded part of the pool, my dad wanted to add a bar right beside it, and it was freshly cemented.

He quickly copied my moves, but instead, he went on a straight line to me, and in a step he covered his feet in cement, falling down and thankfully placing his hands before getting worse.

“Shit!” I ran back to help him. I stupidly placed my hand in the cement, the other helping Charles to get up.

“Look, we made a masterpiece! Your handprints and mine in wet cement.”

“And your feet.” I laughed

“And my feet… I really need to wash this off before it gets dry.” I grabbed his hand and he followed my lead.

If my dad sees that I’m getting his new driver to my room…

We rushed through the multitude of people on the garden.

“Ooh we’re going to your bedroom, can’t remember what happened last time there…” he whispered shouted as we were running up the stairs.

I jokingly rolled my eyes at him. We were giggling like children. He kept making dirty jokes and as much as I tried to control myself I’d end up giggling much more.

We got there quicker than I thought. With my clean hand I closed the door and he was already in my bathroom washing his hands, and feet with water. I ran to his side and did the same with my left hand.

“I’m done” I announced and got out of the bathroom. Deciding to do a touch up for my makeup, thankfully nothing was much out of place, but my lipstick faded.

I slowly applied it looking in the mirror, and through it I saw a curious Charles looking at me. “Why do you even apply lipstick?” He slowly walked towards me.

I took my sweet time spreading the color on my lips.

“Cause we are going back, party is not over.”

“But we don’t need to.” He grabbed me by the waist and turned me around to look at him and he swiftly placed me on the desk. A smirk plastered on his face, as he slowly got on his knees.

“Charles…”

He got to his knees, not breaking eye contact with me.

“You know that if you say no, I won’t do anything. But I’m not hearing those words, am I?” He lifted my dress planted wet kisses on my inner thighs, getting closer to my sweet spot. “You’re so fucking wet”.

“They will know we’re gone” I nervously whispered. He looked into my eyes and stopped, his hot breath making me squirm. “That isn’t a no.” He stood his ground.

And I’m not saying “do it anyway”, but we both know he is going to.

I didn’t even have a chance to think about the cons, his tongue was already doing its job.My legs were closing due to the pleasure, but his strong arms kept them wide open while he drew circles with his thumbs.

“Charles…” he hummed in response, sending me shivers all the way up. He kept licking my folds and as I looked down, he had his shiny green eyes looking at me. A hint of darkness in them that made me moan just at sight.

His head between my legs was surely what heaven looked like.

I curved my back and my hand gripping his hair so he could get closer. He groaned and sucked even harder.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy, I missed this.” His hand moved quickly into me, curling his two fingers finding my g spot. “Fuck, Charles!” I screamed his name while cumming all over him, his tongue taking all off of me, as he rose without slowly moving his fingers again. My hips rocking back and forth as he arose, keeping his hand busy. “Too bad that pretty mouth of yours can’t do much right now. I really would love to feel it sucking my dick.” I hummed imagining it and getting even closer to my second climax.

“I'll take care of you, just so my princess can remember who she belongs with.” His lips were on my neck, whispering sweet nothing between kisses and soft biting. My moans filled the whole room along with the sound of his fingers working on her center.

Charles, Charles, Charles…

Each time his name left your mouth his cock got even harder, to the point where it hurt. In a short motion his pants down and without any warning he thrusted into you. You both let out a pornographic scream. If the music wasn’t loud everyone would have heard you two. The sound of your slaps were evident, heat rising, the feeling of his beard in your neck was all too much. Curses along with moans were the only thing louder. He did a final thrust and immediately pulled out, jerking off and finishing in his hand.

“You just washed your hands.” I joked breathlessly, he messed up with my head real bad. “Couldn’t resist” he smiled, gave me a peck and disappeared into the bathroom. I melted on that spot.

“Come on mon coeur.” What I loved about Charles was that he always cared. we got into the bathroom and I washed my hands, in the reflection of the mirror his eyes were already in mine.

“What?” I asked as the blood rushed into my cheeks. “Nothing.” He gently smiled, and his eyes shined to me in a different shade of green.

-

Taglist

@delicatepeanutsublime @ironspdy @architect-2015 @buendiabebeta @dreamergirlatpaddock @lercvlie

[secretmellowblog]

Jean Valjean's Canon Toxic Unhealthiness around Romantic Love

( alternate titles: “Does Jean Valjean is Gay?”, or “Does Jean Valjean is Asexual?” Or: “Why is it so difficult to slap an identity/sexuality label onto Jean Valjean?” Or “LGBTPTSD+”)

I was looking at the responses to this poll about whether people interpret Jean Valjean as gay/asexual/straight or something else….and it got me thinking again about Jean Valjean’s canonical intense, complex, awful, toxic, and overwrought emotions around identity/ romantic love. I want to talk about that for a bit because I think it often gets overlooked in fandom!

I've noticed that Les Mis fandom/analysis often tends to interpret Jean Valjean as being far more content, more "at peace with himself," and more "comfortable in his own skin" than he ever is within the novel. This is also a common change in adaptations. The musical's version of Jean Valjean is great-- but he also seems a lot more self-actualized, more like he's gotten himself completely "figured out" by the end of the story. Other, bad, Les Mis adaptations — the adaptations that generally portray Jean Valjean a worse more violent person — also usually make Jean Valjean more confident in himself, more confident in his own feelings/desires, more certain that he’s entitled to certain things, and more willing to demand or take what he wants.

But one major aspect of book Jean Valjean's personality is that he does not have a healthy relationship with anything about himself. He has a tortured broken relationship with his own identity. He repeatedly thinks about “Jean Valjean” as a person outside of himself, a person who he finds frightening, repulsive, savage, and horrible— like a wild animal he needs to sedate, or beat into submission. He is obsessed with self-denial and self-repression. He is fixated on the idea that he is subhuman, that he is not allowed to want things or to pursue having any kinds of relationships with other people-- and that the most heroic thing he can do is "grab himself by the collar” and violently force himself to stay away from the things he wants. He is desperate to be loved and fixated on being unworthy of love and on denying himself love. He is absolutely not at peace with his identity: to paraphrase Jean Valjean in one of the later chapters, he believes he can only gain inner peace by “eviscerating his own entrails.”

He is never truly content with who he is, what he wants, or what kind of love he wants— and he never learns to be. The novel ends with him cutting himself off from his only family, breaking ties with the only person who loves him, and essentially slowly killing himself out of self-loathing.

There are other characters in Les Mis who seem very content with who they are and what they want. Enjolras is self-assured in his identity, and doesn’t appear to feel like there is any kind of love that is missing from his life. Whether you interpret him as gay or ace or trans or w/e, book!Enjolras is written as someone who is extremely self-assured and has a loving support system that is enough to keep him happy. But I don’t think that’s true for Jean Valjean at all XD.

And that’s why it's hard to apply labels like “aromantic” or “ace” or gay/straight/etc to Jean Valjean, when talking about his canon characterization. Those labels imply the person has a basic level of comfort with acknowledging their own desires/lack of desire/identity. And Jean Valjean never achieves that level of comfort. What “label” do you give to someone whose relationship with their identity is “I do not belong in a family, I have no right to want things, I have no right to be happy, I am outside of life, and I will never be at peace until I eviscerate my own entrails?” Is there a “self-disembowelment" pride flag? XD I've seen a lot of interpretations that go "Jean Valjean never expresses any interest in romance, he's perfectly content just to have his relationship with his daughter" but I honestly don't think that's true. Jean Valjean tries to content himself with having only Cosette. But part of why everything explodes so catastrophically in the end of the novel is because he needs more than just a paternal relationship. He doesn’t try to have a “normal” father-daughter relationship with Cosette, he tries to force his relationship with Cosette to be literally everything and everyone to him, for her to be his entire world: and it doesn’t work.

There’s a passage in the novel that talks about how all the love Valjean is capable of ends up being suppressed/sublimated into his relationship with Cosette. The love of a brother, of a friend, of a father, of a husband, the love of everything he is capable of, gets repressed so that he can throw every part of himself into being a father. There are Bad les mis adaptations that incorrectly misinterpret that passage to mean that Jean Valjean is incestuous/grooming Cosette. But in context, that’s not what the passage means at all.

The passage specifies very explicitly that Jean Valjean “did not love Cosette otherwise than as a father,” that “no marriage was possible between them,” that his feelings for her are absolutely paternal. But the passage does show how Jean Valjean is doing a very different unhealthy thing: he’s relying on Cosette to fill every single emotional void in his life.

He’s relying on parenthood to fill the grief/emptiness left behind by all the other kinds of love that he has wanted, but never been given.

To quote a bit of that passage:

Jean Valjean did not love Cosette otherwise than as a father (…) Let the reader recall the situation of heart which we have already indicated. No marriage was possible between them; not even that of souls; and yet, it is certain that their destinies were wedded. With the exception of Cosette, that is to say, with the exception of a childhood, Jean Valjean had never, in the whole of his long life, known anything of that which may be loved. The passions and loves which succeed each other had not produced in him those successive green growths, tender green or dark green, which can be seen in foliage which passes through the winter and in men who pass fifty. In short, and we have insisted on it more than once, all this interior fusion, all this whole, of which the sum total was a lofty virtue, ended in rendering Jean Valjean a father to Cosette. A strange father, forged from the grandfather, the son, the brother, and the husband, that existed in Jean Valjean; a father in whom there was included even a mother; a father who loved Cosette and adored her, and who held that child as his light, his home, his family, his country, his paradise.

Jean Valjean reminds me of a Failmode I’ve seen in a lot of different real-life parents? There are parents who cope with their own hard lives by telling themselves that parenthood is their sole reason for being alive, and who obsess over their child’s success as their only source of purpose, meaning, love, happiness, community, and validation. But it’s a bad idea to rely on one child to provide the emotional support that should be shared by friends, parents, siblings, every possible loved one, etc etc—- One child can’t actually heal you from your trauma, be a replacement for your broken relationships, pull you out of your grief, save you from your adult loneliness, etc etc etc etc.

When I see the common interpretation that Jean Valjean is perfectly content just to be the father of Cosette, I think of this line:

Thus when he saw that the end had absolutely come, that she was escaping from him, that she was slipping from his hands, that she was gliding from him, like a cloud, like water, when he had before his eyes this crushing proof: “another is the goal of her heart, another is the wish of her life; there is a dearest one, I am no longer anything but her father, I no longer exist”; when he could no longer doubt, when he said to himself: “She is going away from me!” the grief which he felt surpassed the bounds of possibility. To have done all that he had done for the purpose of ending like this! And the very idea of being nothing!

On one hand, the terrible Les mis adaptations that portray Valjean as Incest Creep are incorrect and wrong. On the other hand, though, Jean Valjean IS unhealthy about Cosette— just in a different and actually sympathetic way.

He has made fatherhood his only purpose, to replace every other purpose he could have in life. So he can’t be “just Cosette’s father.” He can’t imagine her becoming an adult and leaving the nest, like children do. What does he have if he’s not taking care of her? What is his purpose in life if she doesn’t need him to be her parent? He's not just being her father, he's relying on her to be his entire reason to exist. He hasn't been allowing himself to have things outside of her.

And speaking of things outside of Cosette: segue time. This post was supposed to be about Jean Valjean and romance, so let's switch gears and talk about his canon 'romantic experiences' more:

We’re told that in his youth he “never had a sweetheart” because he “never had time to be in love.” There is no indication that Jean Valjean never wanted to be in love. The opposite is implied. Hugo frames it as a tragedy that Jean Valjean’s does not experience young love; it’s the horror of poverty taking yet another thing from him.

Within prison, Valjean is “gloomy” and “chaste;” when he traumadumps to Montparnasse about it, he talks about women looking on galley slaves with horror and disgust. Romance, at least “normal” heterosexual romance, is no longer something that is permitted for him. Jean Valjean knows very little about romance/love/sex and it repeatedly messes up his life. He spends 19 years in the all-male environment of prison, then about a decade in the almost-all-female environment of the convent. He has very little experience with how men and women are supposed to interact. The oppression Fantine faces as a sex worker, and Cosette's relationship with Marius, are both two big 'blind spots' that he struggles with.

At one point romantic love is described as “The only misery Jean Valjean had not yet experienced, and the only one that is sweet.”

In his massive confession to Marius, he agonizes over how he is not allowed to be part of a family, and is incapable of being part of a home. He compares himself to someone sick and diseased, that poisons good and normal people with his presence, and cannot be allowed to make himself part of their families.

So Jean Valjean doesn’t frame Romance as “a thing he doesn’t want:” it’s a thing “he is not allowed to want,” it is one of the many things he is banned from wanting. It's impossible to tell what kind of things he would want, if he were allowed to want them.

One of the most interesting things to me, however, is his general attitude towards Marius/Cosette.

Obviously his first reaction to Marius snooping around is fear and resentment— he doesn’t know to interact with romance, having never experienced it, and immediately begins catastrophizing. He views Marius as a privileged booby ruining his life for something as frivolous as a love affair: it reads to me as partially envy, envy of the fact that Marius lives the kind of safe comfortable life that allows him to experience young love.

Jean Valjean added: “What does he want? A love affair! A love affair! And I? What! I have been first, the most wretched of men, and then the most unhappy, and I have traversed sixty years of life on my knees, I have suffered everything that man can suffer, I have grown old without having been young, I have lived without a family, without relatives, without friends, without life, without children, I have left my blood on every stone, on every bramble, on every mile-post, along every wall, I have been gentle, though others have been hard to me, and kind, although others have been malicious, I have become an honest man once more, in spite of everything, I have repented of the evil that I have done and have forgiven the evil that has been done to me, and at the moment when I receive my recompense, at the moment when it is all over, at the moment when I am just touching the goal, at the moment when I have what I desire, it is well, it is good, I have paid, I have earned it, all this is to take flight, all this will vanish, and I shall lose Cosette, and I shall lose my life, my joy, my soul, because it has pleased a great booby to come and lounge at the Luxembourg.”

But, even though Jean Valjean views romance as something he isn’t allowed or have or to want, views it as a threat and catastrophizes over how it will ruin his life……he seems to also put heterosexual romance on a pedestal.

The way Jean Valjean idealizes marriage is one of his weirdest character notes for me.

He views marriage as Cosette’s “happy ending.” It’s her “happily ever after” point where she won’t need him anymore, where she won’t need anyone outside of her husband. A Man And a Woman Are Meant to Get Married, It's Fate, and It Means They Will Live Happily Together Forever. Marius is “the goal of her heart, the wish of her life; her dearest one.” Nothing outside of that matters anymore.

He treats her marriage as if romantic love is inherently always more important than any kind of platonic relationships, and always takes priority over them. He later dismisses the unconventional family structure he has with Cosette, saying that despite his love for her he was only a "passerby" and was not actually her real father, because they were not biologically related.

There's a moment where Jean Valjean is described as someone whose ideal is to be angel on the inside and a bourgeois on the outside. Jean Valjean's worship of bourgeois social norms, norms he can never truly be a part of, is one of his character flaws. He has a similar "guard dog" energy as Eponine does when she defends Rue Plumet from her parents.....Eponine and Jean Valjean both become the guard dogs of a kind of romantic relationship they believe they are banned from having. Jean Valjean believes that getting Happily Straight Married in a Middle-Class Home with a Picket Fence(tm) is the ideal path for life....but believes himself broken/incapable of ever following that path. And so he instead throws his entire life into securing that future for Marius and Cosette.

In what manner was Jean Valjean to behave in relation to the happiness of Cosette and Marius? It was he who had willed that happiness, it was he who had brought it about; he had, himself, buried it in his entrails, and at that moment, when he reflected on it, he was able to enjoy the sort of satisfaction which an armorer would experience on recognizing his factory mark on a knife, on withdrawing it, all smoking, from his own breast. Cosette had Marius, Marius possessed Cosette. They had everything, even riches. And this was his doing.

TL: DR:

Jean Valjean's gender/sexuality label is “idk but he’s super fucked up about it.”

[vrystalius]

Would be willing to do like ,, Rengoku x reader that takes care of Senjuro while he’s away on missions ? Rengoku deserves some love but so does his little brother <333

Visiting the smallest Rengoku.

You had nothing to do with Kyojuro being away on an important mission, so you decided to visit his younger brother.

Pairing: Kyojuro x reader, platonic/familial Senjuro x reader

(A little angsty by the end)

Your husband has been away for a couple days now. You prepared a large pot for miso soup and some sweet potatoes for your husband to enjoy when he returns from his long mission. After finishing your chores, you decided to pay Senjuro a visit and to help him out a little. You knew that he’s working hard to keep everything together in his family home with Shinjuro doing nothing but cause a mess and drink all day every day, leaving the youngest Rengoku family member to take care of himself and his drunkard father.

You always pitied Senjuro for needing to grow up so fast and barely experiencing childhood. His mother died too early in his life, meaning he barely remembers her. But you also know how much your husband Kyojuro dotes on his little brother and wishes for him to be nothing but happy. Sometimes, you two thought about moving Senjuro to your house, away from Shinjuro and the verbal abuse.

You made sure to prepare Senjuro a small home cooked meal before heading out. You weren’t sure what his favourite food was, so you went with something Kyojuro would’ve liked: sweet potatoes with some rice and fried vegetables and some Mochi you bought from a vendor on your way to the residence. You were sure Senjuro’ll appreciate some home-cooked food! He hasn’t been cooked for in a while.

Upon your arrival, you sound hin sweeping the porch, removing the yellow and orange coloured and dried leaves.

“The leaves match your hair, Senjuro!”

Hearing your voice call out to him so suddenly made him flinch and stiffen up, but his shoulders visibly relaxed after spotting you. Senjuro smiled shyly and waved.

“My brother isn’t here if that’s why you came to visit. He still should be on a mission.”

You knew that Kyojuro’s little brother still has to get used to you being around and marrying his older brother, but you also heard from him that Senjuro really admires you. You haven’t interacted a lot, but everytime you did, his eyes would sparkle in fascination. He always asked you about what you do and how it is to live with his older brother. He is also very curious about your cooking and even mustered courage (he received a lot of pep-talking from your husband) to ask for some of your recipes!

After setting down for lunch and presenting your home-cooked meal to him, Senjuro thanked you with a bright smile. He really missed getting cooked meals that aren’t prepared by himself. You insisted on cooking for him and Shinjuro, preparing more lunch and dinner. That way, Senjuro doesn’t have to cook anything today and maybe even tomorrow. He was extremely grateful and tried to help you out as much as possible, feeling a little guilty for you cooking, even though you are supposed to be a guest. He watched you cook over your shoulder, tip-toeing to try and get a better view.

“Can you teach me that recipe? It looks very tasty.”

He’s extremely fascinated by your whole being. You’re so kind, so talented and beautiful, no wonder why his brother married you. Senjuro is extremely glad to have you as a sister-in-law.

After the meal, you suggested to play a round of Shogi with him. You knew that Shinjuro barely ever leaves his bedroom, meaning Senjuro has no one to play or talk with. That poor boy was forced to grow up to fast and never got to enjoy his childhood, so you wanted to help him be a child again. Even if for a little while. You two sat on the porch during the game. He was extremely happy during the whole match, ranting about his older brother and papa the whole time.

“One time, my brother was teaching how to use the fire breathing technique, and I saw flames sparking out of my sword! It was small, but Kyojuro was so proud of me! We went to town and got a bowl of ramen together. Our father scolded us for coming home so late…”

Senjuro’s eyes were sparkling and a big smile was plastered on his face while moving his pieces. In the end, you let him win to make him just a little happier. But just as he was about to celebrate, Kyojuro’s crow quietly flew above the residence, landing right beside you two. It was quiet for a couple moments before finally announcing what he came here for.

“The flame pillar! The flame pillar fought Upper Moon Three! Upper Moon Three!”

Silence draped over you three as all of you and Senjuro both knew what was the crow was about to announce next. You glanced over at the youngest of the Rengoku’s.

His hands were tightly gripping his hakama pants as his gaze was fixated on the shogi pieces. Tears started forming in the corners of his eyes.

You knew your husband won’t be coming back for the miso soup and sweet potatoes you left at home for him.

💠

I am going to sob during Akaza’s backstory reveal and death, but I probably sobbed more over Kyojuro’s. Senjuro doesn’t deserve anything that happened to him and I’m so glad Shinjuro changed for the better in the end!!. Thank you for requesting this and sorry for the wait!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[writersmess]

DEATH WISH LOVE | EVAN BUCKLEY

gif credit

Pairing: Evan Buckley x fem!reader

Summary: Buck never thought he could love someone like that. Especially not someone with the same death wish love as him.

Warning: Anxiety crisis, near-death experience, hospital, crying, ansgt.

Word count: 2.5K

a/n: My God, I can't believe it's taken me over a year to get back. I missed this place so much. It's been an intense, crazy year. I finally got my dream job at the best hospital in Latin America. I'm so happy, but at the same time it's demanded everything of me, working long shifts almost every day, but its the price I have to pay. I hope you like this one, it was based on the song Death Wish Love by Benson Boone, which as soon as I heard it I immediately imagined something with our dear Buck. I confess I thought I'd do something angsty, but I don't think I have that capacity, he already suffers so much that I just wanted him to have a happy ending this time.

Masterlist

................................

You were the new firefighter in 118, and also new to the city. In order to follow your dreams, you left your hometown with everyone and everything you knew. You craved for bigger things, you wanted the big city, you wanted Los Angeles.

The team welcomed you with open arms, which was unusual to you. You weren’t used to this or neither known by your affectionate gestures, but apparently everything was an excuse for a hug at the station. It was a bit hard to get used to all this affection, especially when you came from a place where you were always by yourself.

That was one of the main reasons you became a firefighter, you have walked through fire every single day of your life, why not make it your profession?

You were a source of curiosity between the team, always so quiet and so resistant to everyone's affection. It was hard to win you over. Especially because you had a rather difficult personality, you were fearless at work, you weren't afraid to go into the fire to save lives, you did it without thinking twice.

To Bobby you were a cause for concern, and sometimes the reason why he was having trouble sleeping. He knew this personality very well. It was the same one he had struggled for years to learn to deal with, the one he had to fight with so many times, he was very familiar with this death wish love, it was the same as Buck’s.

The blue-eyed man on the other side, couldn't understand why he couldn't take his eyes off you. Ever since you arrived a few months ago, your image has been running through Buck’s mind. You've become a challenge for him. But not in a bad way, he wanted to get to know you, he wanted to understand you. But you didn't make things any easier for him, especially when today was the first time he'd seen you laugh.

"You're drooling" he snapped back to reality when he heard Eddie mocking next to him.

"Shut up" Buck said, turning his gaze back to you playing with his niece.

You had a beauty he couldn't explain, an angelic one. You had this steely gaze and looking at you felt like suicide. He would fall to his knees if you asked him to. How could someone so delicate also be so dangerous?

The way you were reluctant to follow Bobby's orders, you'd walk into the fire without a second thought. You would take risks without thinking about your own safety, just thinking about everyone else. He saw how hard you worked, he saw how mad Bobby got when he ordered the building to be evacuated and you were always the last one to leave. You were intriguing and he was fascinated.

It was so strange for you. Being in Maddie's living room, with everyone gathered together like a big family, laughing and telling funny stories. The team met once a week, with all the families together, the children running around the living room, the smell of food in the air, the voices, the laughter.

You accepted the invitation after a few months of refusing, and now you spent the week looking forward to the moment when you would be together again.

Sometimes when you got home from a meeting, you cried. You cried because you never had that, you never had anyone who cared about you. You were an unexpected pregnancy, your parents didn't planned you, they didn't want you and that was never a secret to anyone.

And that's why you were surprised when one day you arrived early at the station and Hen had a cake for you that you had once said reminded of what your grandmother used to bake.

Or when another one Eddie handed you a drawing that Chris made specifically for you. Of the two of you playing together.

Or when Maddie sent you, through Chim, the cookies you said you loved one day while you were having coffee together.

Or when Bobby invited you to have lunch with him and Athena on a Sunday ‘cause he knew you were going to do it alone.

Or when Buck gave you a book he'd heard you say was your favorite during a conversation.

*

It was mid-afternoon on a Sunday. Your hands were shaking, your heart pounding. The words your father had once spoken echoed in your mind. "You will never be loved". But you were at a table with 118's entire family, and you felt loved. Maddie told you about the gossip from her work. Karen hugged you from the side every time you passed by her. Hen included you in every conversation. Athena calmly answered all the questions you were curious about her work. So why did you feel like an imposter? Why was your father's voice echoing inside your head? Why were you on the verge of an anxiety attack?

"I'll be right back" you muttered to the girls, but you realized how shaky your voice sounded. You were pathetic.

You barely made it to the bathroom, your legs buckled and you sat down in the corner of the room. You could hardly breathe, it was hard to pull in the air. Tears streamed down your face. Your heart was racing. Your hands were shaking.

You heard your voice being called from outside. Damn. You couldn't calm down, your hand was on your chest as if it could make the pain go away.

"Hey, hey. I'm here. Calm down, I’ve got you" it was Buck.

His voice was just a whisper in your ear. You let a sob escape your lips. Pathetic. You felt his arms around you, until you were all wrapped up in his arms. Why was he doing that? Why did he care?

He stayed there until you stopped crying. You were still in his arms, and it was so warm, so safe. Sighs came from your lips, and you couldn't imagine what a mess Buck's head and heart were in. He wanted you in his arms, not just now.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you, so you stayed.

"You don't have to talk about what's going on in there, but the day you feel like you need a hug to cry into, you've got mine" your eyes filled with tears again. "And don't ever apologize for it"

*

The smiles on your lips were becoming constant. And it was Buck's favorite image. You were letting people through your armor, you were letting your guard down, and it felt good. You now baked pies and cakes for the station on your days off, recipes learned from the girls after a few long afternoons of chatting and coffee.

Your laughter was contagious, and the boys would always crack little jokes to get them out of you.

Your eyes were now looking out for a pair of blue ones, all the time, everywhere. Eyes that were always looking back at you. Your hands were always looking for an excuse to bump into Buck's, just to feel that shiver run down your spine every time. And he would find any reason to text you, until the excuses became routine. You woke up every day with a good morning message and went to bed with a good night one. The little touches now became big gestures, Buck loved to brush your hair out of your face and tuck them behind your ear. And you loved to run your hand over the birthmark above his eye. You loved when his warm lips traveled up your neck to your lips. You loved when his hands ran over your body always so slowly and so gently, bringing goosebumps wherever they went. You loved making love with him. How he worshiped your body, how much he worshiped you. The way he made you feel loved.

You had a hold on Buck, and you didn't even know it. He had become attached to you, attached to the idea of having you by his side. The nights with you were the ones he could truly rest in, the mornings where he woke up to your soft kisses on his face, were the ones he would keep forever in his mind.

But he could feel that you were still resisting his feelings, and he was terrified of losing you. Buck was in love with you. It took months for him to realize that, but he did it. He loved you.

But one thing has never changed. And as Buck followed the loud murmurs coming from Bobby’s office, where he knew you were at, he kept in mind the danger you were in at every call. He couldn't lose you.

"Hey, what happe-" he couldn't finish the sentence when he saw you walking out the door, since you brushed past him, bumping into his shoulder, without even looking him in the face.

Buck made his way to the room, where he saw his captain wiping his hands across his face, letting out an exhausted sigh.

"She'll end up dead if she keep acting like this, Buck"

"I know"

"After the last call, if she doesn't change her behavior, I'll be forced to suspend her."

"I know."

Buck couldn't lose you.

You couldn't talk to Buck yet, you were so nervous after your conversation with Bobby. You were trying your best, how could he tell you that you had a death wish love? You were saving lives, and it didn't matter if it cost you your own. You didn't care.

A new call ecoed through the station. It was something big. A fire in a shed. People were working at the time, so there were many likely victims. You were anxious, just as you were before any call, but you were ready for it. You were born ready.

"Be careful," Buck told you before you got off the truck and you nodded. You were always careful "I love you"

You turned surprised to Buck, you'd never said that to each other before. It disconcerted you.

"Buck, I-"

Before you could say anything, you heard Bobby calling you to give instructions and you had to run.

I love you.

The words echoed in your head as you entered the burning building. No one had ever said that to you. You didn't even know the weight those words carried.

"Sir, follow this path and the fireman will take you to the exit."

It was so hot. You'd already lost count of how many people you'd pulled out of the line of fire. Your head was heavy. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Evacuate the building now," you could hear Cap saying over the radio. Everyone agreed and gave their location. You were about to respond when you heard something.

It was a call for help.

You could have sworn it was a call for help.

"Captain, I'm in the east side, I hear someone screaming for help. I'm close, I can get them out"

"Negative, the building will collapse at any moment. Get out immediately"

Your vision was blurred.

I love you.

You couldn't go out and leave those people to die, so you went ahead. The way to the door was difficult, there was a lot of rubble, and when you opened it, you froze in place.

It was empty. The fire danced in front of you, mocking you. But the cries for help... you've never been so wrong before.

I love you.

“It’s empty” you murmured at the radio.

Bobby was shouting your name from the other end of the radio. You turned around, but it was so hard to breathe. You tried to find your way back, but everything was spinning. Buck was now calling your name.

I love you.

His words were running through your head. Your steps were now slow. The way out, you couldn't find the way out. You could hear the fire laughing at you. Stupid. Pathetic. You heard an explosion behind you, and it threw you off balance, bringing you to the ground. You'd been walking through fire all your life, and now it would finally take its place back. Your siren buzzed in your ears. That would be the end of you.

I love you too, Buck.

The moment Buck came out of the building and didn't see you outside, he tried to go back. But hands held him in place.

This couldn't be happening. No, no.

Bobby called your name on the radio and you didn't answer. It's empty. That was the last answer they got. You weren't answering. An explosion. On the east side, where you were.

Buck's knees gave way, and he went down. All eyes were on the exit of the building waiting for you, waiting for a miracle. But it never came.

Buck screamed, and he would scream until his lungs gave up.

Time seemed to stop. Buck's screams were the only noise to be heard. And another explosion. Tears rolled down trough some faces. No one could believe it. This couldn't be happening.

Buck couldn't lose you like this.

"We found her" some voice echoed over the radio.

Buck's heart could stop any second now.

But the building was collapsing.

He broke free from his friends and ran into the building, dodging all the fallen and burnt obstacles, and he saw you. You were in the arms of a fireman. He ran up to you and carried you out of the building. As soon as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the building collapsed. Buck held you in his arms with all his strength and ran, feeling the debris fly past you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" was the first thing that came out of your lips when he put you on the stretcher and he shut you up, pressing his lips to yours.

Buck analyzed each of your wounds alongside Hen and Chim and you could see the tears streaming down Buck's face, the ones that were also streaming down your own.

You were still struggling to breathe, every inch of your body ached, and you felt on the verge of losing consciousness. Until you succumbed to the darkness that was calling your name.

*

You woke up a few hours later in hospital. Your hands were being squeezed and you could feel something wet running down over them. Tears.

Buck had his face in your hands, he had never felt so afraid before. And when he heard your voice calling him, it was as if he could finally breathe.

"I'm sorry, Buck, I-I don't know what happened-"

"I almost lost you today"

Your heart broke into a million pieces. You did this to him, your recklessness, your impulsive behavior. It was your fault.

"I'm sorry"

Tears were now streaming down your face and he moved closer, running his hands gently down your cheeks.

"I was terrified of losing you. I'd die if I do."

"I would never leave you"

"Promise?"

"I love you, Buck. And I'll love you to death"

"Please don't let it be soon"

You smiled. No one had ever loved you like that.

"It won't."

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us V

Summary:

Y.N moves in with Aemond, however he has trouble dealing with his jealousy as Y.N grows closer to Aegon.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Swearing, Jealousy, Insecurity, Miscommunication, Kissing, Semi Public Sex, P in V, Oral Sex (M Recieving).

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 5576

A.N - I used Zac Gabriel as the face claim for Daeron.

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Aemond was almost regretting his suggestion of going baby shopping the moment he stepped foot into the nursery store.

Rows and rows of items surrounded him, none of which he recognized apart from the basics: a cot, a pram and a changing table.

But what was all this other stuff? As he stood there, utterly bewildered, he picked up an odd-looking contraption with tubes and some kind of cup attached. His brow furrowed in confusion as he turned it over in his hands.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Y.N. appeared beside him and gave him an amused smile. “That’s a breast pump,” she explained, gently taking it from him.

Aemond blinked. "Are you going to-breastfeed?"

Y.N. nodded. “I’ll give it a try. I read in one of those baby books that I can eventually express milk so you can help with feeds if you want.”

He gave a quick nod, relief washing over him. That, at least, made sense. He would be involved in every aspect of their baby's life, even the late-night feedings.

They continued walking through the aisles, moving past shelves lined with more creams, lotions, and baby products than Aemond had ever seen in his life.

“Babies have really sensitive skin,” Y.N. explained, picking up a tub of lotion and reading the label. “We’ll have to be careful with what we buy for them.”

Aemond was still trying to make sense of the endless products when Y.N. casually mentioned, “I’m thinking I’ll have to put the cot in my room, at least for now. My flat doesn’t have a spare room, so I’ll probably look for a bigger place when the baby gets a bit older-”

Without thinking, Aemond blurted out, “-You could come live with me.”

Y.N. stopped, turning to him in surprise.

He shifted awkwardly, realizing how fast he’d said it, but he pressed on. “-I have the room, and I could help more with the baby. I don’t want to miss out on anything-and it just makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, we’re having a child together, and I-I want you to feel supported. I want to be there for everything.”

Aemond started rambling, listing reason after reason, but Y.N. interrupted him with a soft smile, placing her hand on his arm.

"I'd like that," she said quietly, "-as long as I can contribute toward the bills. I won’t let you pay for everything."

A wave of relief and happiness washed over him, and he agreed, already picturing them as a family in his penthouse. His focus shifted when he spotted something on a nearby shelf.

A cot mobile, but not just any mobile—this one had tiny, intricately designed dragons hanging from it. He wound it up, and a soft, gentle lullaby began playing as the dragons turned lazily in the air.

Aemond smiled, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve always liked dragons,” he said, nostalgia filling his voice.

Y.N. smiled, too, remembering how his notebooks in school had been covered in his dragon sketches. “I remember.”

“This one,” Aemond said decisively, picking up the boxed version of the mobile. “This is the one I want for our baby.”

Y.N. nodded, touched by his excitement. It was clear how much this meant to him.

As he cradled the box in his hands, she smiled at him, already imagining their baby lying beneath the mobile, lulled to sleep by the soft music and the gentle movement of the dragons.

"Do you know what kind of pram you want?" Aemond asked, trying to sound knowledgeable but still feeling a little out of his depth.

Y.N. chuckled, taking his hand. “I’ve seen a few possibilities. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Aemond had practically marshalled his siblings into helping with Y.N.'s move, each of them assigned specific tasks.

The moving process was well underway, and he was determined that Y.N. wouldn’t lift a finger—especially not anything heavier than a pillow.

So, while Aegon, Daeron, and Aemond handled the heavy lifting, Y.N. and Helaena sat on the floor of her now almost-empty bedroom, packing the last of her things into boxes.

“Honestly, Aemond, I can carry other things,” Y.N. protested as she folded some clothes into a box.

“Absolutely not,” Aemond replied from across the room.

Helaena snickered, helping Y.N. close a box. “He’s being protective. Just let him.”

Y.N. shook her head fondly, turning back to Helaena. “Men.”

Meanwhile, Aegon, ever the opportunist, had loudly volunteered to help with the bedroom packing.

“I’ll handle the personal items!” he announced with a smirk, only to be met with a swift slap on the back of the head from Aemond.

“Go help move the boxes that are already packed and sealed” Aemond ordered, sending Aegon out of the room with a scowl.

Y.N. had already arranged for most of her furniture to go into storage, having decided that she didn’t need much in the way of bulky items.

There was only one exception: her grandfather's beloved armchair. The old, worn chair didn’t match Aemond’s sleek black-and-white decor at all, but Y.N. had insisted on bringing it with her.

Aemond had stood his ground, but when she tied him up in bed and kept edging him during sex, bringing him to the brink of his orgasm as she rode him only to stop, and after four times of being denied the chance to come he caved in, only for him to end up a begging moaning mess as Y.N overstimulated him.

Now, as Daeron worked through her collection of books and DVDs, he raised an eyebrow at what he found.

“She’s got a lot of horror here,” he remarked, flipping through a few titles. “She seriously likes this stuff?”

Aemond, overhearing, glanced over. “It’s her favourite genre. She’s obsessed with creature features and disaster movies, too.”

“Creature features?” Daeron asked, confused.

“You know, movies with killer sharks or giant, man-eating animals,” Aemond replied nonchalantly.

Daeron laughed, shaking his head. “She’s has weird taste-” he teased, only for his eyes to widen when he pulled out a book from a box. “Oh, hello. What’s this? Fifty Shades of—"

Before Daeron could finish, Aemond snatched the book from his hands. “Fifty Shades of Shite, that’s what,” Aemond grumbled. “Now stop messing around and pack.”

Daeron mock saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

Aemond then made his way to check on Aegon, who had unsurprisingly gotten distracted. His elder brother was rifling through a stack of old letters, his face a picture of mischief.

“What the hell are you doing?” Aemond snapped.

“Found some letters-” Aegon replied, waving one around. “-From Jace”

Aemond frowned deeply, but there was a gnawing sense of curiosity that led him to take a glance over Aegon’s shoulder.

Sure enough, Jace’s love-sick declarations and desperate apologies were scrawled across the pages.

Aemond’s scowl deepened, but despite the irritation boiling inside him, he said, “Just put them back. It’s not our business.”

Aegon, with a dramatic sigh, pretended to comply, but when Aemond wasn’t looking, he tossed the letters into the bin.

“So long, Jace, you fucking idiot,” Aegon muttered under his breath.

When Aemond went back to the bedroom, he found Y.N. and Helaena laughing together, nearly finished with the last of the packing. Y.N. was holding up a small box of condoms, grinning.

“Well,” she chuckled, “I guess we won’t be needing these anymore.”

Before Aemond could respond, Aegon’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Hey, I could use them! Saves me buying more.”

Y.N., completely unbothered, shrugged and tossed the box in his direction. “-I didn’t know you was seeing anyone.”

Aegon caught the box and smirked. “Not currently. But I do have my eye on someone,” he replied smugly. “Just a matter of time before she’s mine.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow but didn’t press, going back to emptying her drawers.

Meanwhile, Aemond shot his brother a warning glare as Aegon winked suggestively at him, making his blood boil.

“Touch her, and I’ll kill you,” Aemond whispered to Aegon, to which his brother only grinned wider.

Y.N, oblivious to the tension between the brothers, finished packing her things and stood up, hands on her hips.

“Well, I think that’s everything. Let’s get the last boxes out, and then we can head over to the penthouse.”

As Y.N. looked around the penthouse, trying to get her bearings amidst the chaos of moving, she realized something was off.

"Aemond, where are all my things?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Aemond glanced up from the hallway, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “They’re in the other spare room,” he said casually, not catching the subtle shift in her expression.

Y.N.’s face fell. “Oh, s-so-I won’t be sharing your room?” she asked, her voice tight with a hint of disappointment.

Aemond, now noticing the change in her mood, looked confused. "I just assumed that you’d want your own space," he replied cautiously. "You know, somewhere you could have to yourself if you ever needed it."

Y.N. forced a smile, though her chest tightened. "N-No, it’s fine, I-I understand," she said quietly before slipping away down the hall and shutting herself into the spare room.

The click of the door felt like a punch to Aemond’s gut.

Aegon, who had been lounging on the couch, shot his brother a look of disbelief. “Well, aren’t you a fucking moron,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Daeron, standing nearby, chimed in with a frown. “You’re in love with her, she’s pregnant with your kid, and you ask her to move in, only to stick her in the spare room? What were you thinking?”

Helaena crossed her arms, giving Aemond a pointed look. “You need to fix this, and fast.” She shoved him gently towards the door.

Aemond swallowed, his stomach churning with guilt as he approached the spare room.

He knocked softly, and after a long moment, he heard her voice call from inside. “Come in.”

Aemond slipped inside, shutting the door gently behind him. Y.N. was sitting on the bed, surrounded by boxes, her eyes red as if she’d been fighting back tears. His heart sank, and he immediately knelt down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees.

“I’m so sorry,” Aemond said earnestly. “I should have talked to you first. I shouldn’t have just assumed anything.”

Y.N. gave him a small smile, but her eyes betrayed her hurt. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Aemond shook his head. “No, it’s not. I-I’ve never really lived with anyone before, not like this-” he confessed, his voice soft. “-As an adult, it’s all new to me. With Alys-she would only stay over every so often, but we never lived together. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Y.N.’s gaze softened as he spoke, her hand moving to cup his face gently. “I get that, Aemond. But it still hurt.”

He closed his eye, leaning into her touch. “I just wanted to make sure you were happy,” he murmured. “Of course, I want you in my bed every night, but I thought you might want a space to call your own. Where you can work on your art or-get away from me when I inevitably annoy you.” He smirked slightly at his own words, but his eyes were full of sincerity.

Y.N. smiled at that, her thumb brushing over his scared cheek. “Can I?” she asked hesitantly, motioning towards his eyepatch.

Aemond nodded, and she carefully slid the patch from his face, revealing his sapphire eye. Y.N. smiled softly, gazing at him. “There. Now I can see you,” she whispered.

The tenderness in her voice, the warmth of her touch—it was more than Aemond could take. He surged forward, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss.

His hands slid up her thighs to her waist, pushing her back gently until she was lying on the bed, her body sinking into the soft mattress.

The boxes around them were pushed aside, some tumbling onto the floor with a thud, but neither of them cared.

“I want you,” Aemond groaned into her mouth, his voice low and rough with desire.

Y.N. gasped, her breath shaky. “Your brothers and your sister-are here.”

Aemond smirked, his lips brushing against her neck. “We’d better be quiet then,” he teased, his fingers already working to pull her clothes off, his need for her growing with every passing second.

He peeled off his own shirt and lowered his trousers and boxers just enough to free his already hard cock.

Y.N audibly gasped when she felt Aemond’s fingers rubbing her folds.

“O-Oh Aemond” exclaimed Y.N as he slipped a finger inside her, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Always so warm-so wet for me” muttered Aemond as he added another finger, making sure to use his thumb, sweeping it against her pearl.

“I don’t want to wait-please-Aemond take me” whispered Y.N, as she wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, holding him as close as she could.

Aemond took his cock in hand, running the head along her warm wet folds, before he pressed inside her, inching forward slowly.

“So beautiful, swollen with my child” whispered Aemond.

“P-Please Aemond” whimpered Vaeda.

Aemond began to move with a slow, deep grinding. His movements deliberate and calculated.

“Gods be good,” panted Y.N.

“Fuck. You were made for me. You were made to fit my cock in this sweet cunt of yours.” breathed Aemond as he increased the pace of this thrusts.

“A-Aemond. Please.” exclaimed Y.N as she brought her hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as his thrusts shift her up and down the bed.

Aemond makes a strangled sort of sound and lowers himself onto Y.N even more, kissing her passionately.

His hips rolling against hers, his cock thrusting in and out.

Y.N kissed him back, threading her fingers through his long silky hair, her nails scraping against his scalp, just the way he likes it.

“Mine” muttered Aemond.

Y.N could feel herself clenching around him as his cock keeps hitting the same spot inside her.

“Ooo Aemond-f-faster. P-please”

Aemond lets out a loud groan as he begins to move faster pounding into her, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing around the room.

“Aemond-Aemond-”

“You’re so fucking perfect-come-come for me” growls Aemond.

“Y-Yes., Aemond” moaned Y.N squirming, the heat shooting across her abdomen as her pleasure peaks, and she explodes, her cunt tightening around Aemond.

Aemond lets out a long low groan, his movements becoming erratic. His cock throbbing as he spills inside her.

Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena were sprawled out on the sofa in Aemond’s penthouse, waiting for any sign of their brother.

Daeron leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a curious expression on his face. “Do you think he’s apologized yet?”

Aegon snickered, shaking his head with amusement. “If the sound of the headboard banging against the wall wasn’t enough of an indication, then our brother’s groaning sure was,” he said with a laugh, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open, and Aemond stepped out, looking a little dishevelled.

He was shirtless, wearing only his jeans, his long silver hair was a tousled mess, and his cheeks tinged pink with exertion. Aegon immediately started snickering again, earning a scowl from Aemond.

Helaena raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh of her own. “Is Y.N. going to join us?” she asked innocently, though the amused glint in her eye didn’t go unnoticed.

Aemond rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s, uh-sleeping,” he replied, trying to sound casual.

Daeron’s eyes widened dramatically. “Sleeping? What did you do to her?”

Aegon let out a loud cackle. “Oh, I think we all heard what he did to her,” he said with a teasing grin, leaning back on the couch as if thoroughly entertained by the whole situation.

Aemond shot him a glare. “Shut up, Aegon.”

Still grinning, Aegon shrugged. “Hey, no judgment. Just, you know-it was loud.”

Aemond sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “It’s probably best if you all leave” he said, attempting to regain his composure. “Thanks for your help today, but I think we’ll have to rearrange game night-”

Helaena smiled as she stood up, gathering her things. “You’re welcome, Aemond”.

“Fine, but you’re buying the beer next game night.” Aegon quipped with a smirk as he got to his feet.

Aemond rolled his eye but nodded. “Fine, I’ll buy the beer.”

As Daeron grabbed his jacket, he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Bet Y.N. sleeps well tonight-”

Aemond shot him a final look of warning before quickly ushering all three of them toward the door.

“Out. All of you,” he commanded, though the faint smile on his lips showed he wasn’t truly angry.

As they left the penthouse, Aegon couldn’t resist one last comment, leaning back to shout, “Next time, at least soundproof the walls!”

The door slammed behind them, and Aemond leaned against it, exhaling deeply. Peace and quiet at last.

Aemond couldn't help but think that asking Y.N. to move in with him was one of the best decisions he'd ever made.

Life with her was everything he hadn't realized he'd been missing. They settled into an easy rhythm—taking turns cooking, sharing quiet evenings together, and every night, he found himself tangled in bed with her, relishing the warmth and intimacy that had quickly become second nature to them both.

What Aemond liked most, though, was watching Y.N. work. She had claimed a small corner of the penthouse, transforming it into her personal workspace.

All her materials were meticulously arranged—paints, brushes, restoration tools—and her attention to detail was astonishing. He found himself mesmerized by the faces she made when she was deep in concentration.

But more than anything, what drove him wild was as her pregnancy progressed, she often got quite warm, so she would often wear shorts and a sports bra whilst working from home.

The sight of her growing belly made him ache with desire and he spent his nights with his head between her thighs before he made love to her.

He was bursting with pride when she completed the restoration of a statue for the museum and watching her meticulously package up the finished piece, her smile radiant with accomplishment, was a memory he knew he’d never forget.

When she received an invite to the unveiling and insisted that he join her, he agreed without hesitation.

The night of the unveiling, Y.N. looked breathtaking. Her floor-length dress hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her swollen belly and ample curves. Aemond couldn’t take his eye off her the entire evening.

She was in her element, accepting praise and accolades for her work with grace and humility, glowing in the spotlight she so deserved. His heart swelled with pride every time someone came up to compliment her on the restoration.

Of course, the press had been there, snapping photos and recording every moment. It didn’t take long for the word to spread: Aemond Targaryen has not only moved on from Alys Rivers but is also expecting a child with someone new.

 He had known it was inevitable, but he thanked the gods they’d managed to keep it quiet for as long as they had.

Y.N. had handled the attention well, her smile never faltering, though Aemond could sense her relief when they finally made their way back home that night.

Now, with the unveiling behind them, his thoughts turned to their upcoming 20-week scan. He was counting down the days with barely contained excitement.

Soon, they’d find out the gender of the baby, and Aemond could finally start working on the nursery, something he’d been quietly planning in his mind for weeks.

The thought of preparing a space for their child filled him with a warmth that was both unfamiliar and exhilarating.

Aemond and Y.N. attended the 20-week scan with excitement buzzing between them. As Marie, moved the probe over Y.N.'s belly, the room filled with the rhythmic sound of their baby’s heartbeat.

Aemond held Y.N.'s hand tightly, his eye fixed on the monitor, watching in awe as their child appeared in crisp black and white. Everything looked perfect.

When Marie asked if they wanted to know the baby’s gender, Y.N. hesitated for a moment before saying, "Could you write it down and give it to Aemond?" Marie smiled knowingly and handed Aemond an envelope, now containing the secret of their baby's gender.

With the knowledge safely tucked away in his pocket, Aemond's mind quickly shifted to the nursery.

As soon as they got home, he began putting his plans into action.

He forbade Y.N. from stepping foot inside the room and told her the nursery would be a surprise. Soon after, various pieces of furniture were delivered—a cot, a changing table, and everything else they’d need.

To put everything together, Aemond enlisted the help of Aegon and Daeron, which turned into a comical disaster. As Y.N. sat in the living room, she could hear them bickering and swearing through the closed door.

At least twice, she heard Aemond threaten to kill Aegon, which was quickly followed by laughter and the unmistakable clinking of beer bottles.

The constant back and forth amused her—at least it sounded like they were having a good time.

Once the furniture was set up, she made a meal for them all, something hearty to thank them for their efforts.

 When the brothers emerged from the nursery, sweaty but satisfied, Aegon and Daeron couldn't stop smirking and elbowing each other as they watched Aemond gravitate toward Y.N.

He stood behind her, hands resting on her bump as she dished up the food, his eye soft and full of affection.

"Man, he’s totally whipped," Aegon muttered to Daeron, who snickered in agreement.

They couldn’t understand why Aemond hadn’t told Y.N. he was in love with her yet. Or even why he hadn’t asked her to officially be his girlfriend.

Aegon, never one to keep his thoughts to himself, brought it up. “So, bro,” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “what’s the deal? Why haven’t you asked Y.N. to be your girlfriend yet? You’re practically married at this point.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and at first, he ignored the question, but Aegon kept poking at him, goading him with teasing comments.

Finally, Aemond snapped, “Because I’m too scared, alright?”

His brothers went quiet, surprised by his outburst. Aemond sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his admission.

“I don’t know if she feels the same way. I don’t want to ruin what we have by saying something stupid.”

Aegon and Daeron exchanged a glance, their teasing expressions softening. Aegon, for once, was thoughtful. “You’ve got nothing to be scared of. Look at how she looks at you. I’m pretty sure she’s crazy about you.”

Daeron nodded. “And you’re going to be parents soon. You should tell her how you feel before it drives you mad.”

Aemond knew they were right, but the fear of rejection gnawed at him. What if telling her the truth upset the balance they’d found? He sighed, casting a glance toward the kitchen where Y.N. was laughing softly to herself, completely unaware of the conversation.

One day, he promised himself. One day soon.

At 30 weeks pregnant, Y.N. had been waiting anxiously to see the nursery Aemond had been working on.

He had kept her out of the room for weeks, insisting that it had to be perfect before she could see it.

But now, standing at the door, Aemond smiled and gently took her hands. “Close your eyes,” he instructed, guiding her carefully into the room.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trusting him completely as he led her forward.

Once they were inside, he took a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispered, “Open-”

Y.N.’s eyes fluttered open, and she gasped. The room was stunning. Cream and soft blue hues covered the walls, and the sunlight from the window illuminated the room in a warm, peaceful glow.

The crib stood proudly, adorned with the dragon mobile, its tiny wings gently swaying in the air. A beautifully crafted changing table was positioned nearby, and resting on it was a knitted blue blanket—Helaena’s handiwork.

“A boy-” Y.N. marvelled, her voice barely above a whisper as she admired every detail. She ran her fingers over the blanket, her heart swelling with love for the baby growing inside her.

Then her eyes caught sight of something—a sheet hanging over a section of the wall above the crib.

“What’s that for?” she asked, curiosity piqued.

Aemond stepped closer, his expression soft but a little nervous. “It’s covering the baby’s name,” he explained, watching her face carefully.

Y.N. looked at him in surprise. “But we haven’t really decided on names yet.”

Aemond smiled sheepishly. “I, uh-I kind of already chose one.”

Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but before she could say anything else, Aemond reached up and pulled the sheet away from the wall, revealing the name he had picked.

Y.N. took one look and burst into tears.

Aemond’s eyes widened in panic as he immediately wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding her close. “I thought—I’m sorry if I got it wrong. I can change it.”

But Y.N. shook her head, burying her face against his chest as she sobbed. “No,” she managed to say between tears, “I love it. I love it so much.”

A wave of relief washed over Aemond, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Thank the gods,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. Y.N. wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes still misty but filled with joy.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her gaze drifting back to the wall, where her grandfather’s name was painted in elegant script. “It’s not a traditional Targaryen name though”

Aemond smiled, gently wiping her tears away with his thumb. “So, we break the tradition,” he said softly, his hand resting on her bump. “It’s our choice what to name our son. Besides, we can give him a Targaryen middle name”.

Y.N. placed her hand over his, just as the baby kicked. They both smiled, feeling the life they had created together move beneath their hands.

Aemond chuckled softly. “I think he approves.”

Y.N. laughed, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “I think he does.”

Aemond looked around the nursery, a sense of satisfaction and pride in his work. “Now all that’s left is to get the pram and some clothes, and we’ll be good to go.”

Y.N. nodded, her heart full as she took in the room again, but mostly she looked at Aemond, marvelling at how lucky she was to be building a family with him.

Aemond arrived home after an exhausting day, his mind already wandering to Y.N. and the baby.

As he opened the door, his ears picked up on Y.N.'s voice, sounding almost-playful.

"No, Aegon, it's too hard," she said, a teasing edge to her tone.

Aegon groaned. "So? You love it when it’s hard."

Aemond froze, blood boiling in his veins as he heard Y.N. laugh.

"Okay, fine, let's try again, but give me some time to adjust," she responded.

Aemond saw red. Was his brother seriously fucking the mother of his child in his penthouse? Right under his nose? Whilst she was pregnant?

Rage bubbling inside him, Aemond stormed into the living room, heart pounding.

"What the hell is going on here?" he bellowed, fully prepared to murder Aegon with his bare hands.

To his surprise, he found Y.N. sitting cross-legged on the floor with a PlayStation controller in her hand.

Aegon was sprawled on the sofa beside her, also holding a controller, looking completely unbothered by Aemond's entrance.

"We're playing Mortal Kombat, genius," Aegon said with a lazy grin. "What’s got you so worked up?"

Aemond blinked, his fury deflating but still simmering beneath the surface. "What are you doing here, Aegon?" he snapped, irritation lacing his voice.

Aegon shrugged. "Y.N. called me. She was home alone, and wanted some company."

Aemond shot Y.N. a frustrated look. “You could’ve called me. I would’ve come home.”

Y.N. waved him off. “You were busy, Aemond. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Aegon smirked, clearly enjoying the tension between them. “I’ll be heading out anyway,” he said, standing up and stretching. “Got a date with Cerelle Lannister tonight. As much as I’d love to stick around and wind you up further, I’ve got better things to do.”

“Yeah, fuck off” Aemond muttered, earning a chiding look from Y.N.

“Aemond, don’t be rude,” she said, though Aegon laughed it off.

“No worries. I’m used to his mood swings by now.” He leaned over and planted an exaggerated kiss on Y.N.’s head, grinning when Aemond’s face twisted with annoyance.

“Later, you two,” he called over his shoulder, strolling out of the penthouse as if he hadn’t just wound his brother up like a toy.

The door shut with a soft click, leaving Aemond glaring after him.

"I don’t want him alone here with you," Aemond grumbled, still fuming.

Y.N. rolled her eyes and placed the controller down. “Why? It’s just Aegon.”

"You know how my brother is," Aemond said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t trust him.”

“I’m more than capable of handling Aegon," Y.N. shot back, her voice firm.

Aemond sighed. "I never said you weren’t capable. I just—" He paused, realizing how this was coming across. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I’m just trying to protect you, Y.N. That's all."

Y.N. crossed her arms, a look of mild irritation on her face. "Well, it sounds like you're doubting me."

Her moods had been unpredictable lately. One moment, she’d be happy and relaxed, the next, she was crying over something as simple as the wrong pasta brand or getting angry when he suggested healthier meals instead of her craving for fast food.

More than once, she had snapped at him to stay away, only to come to him moments later in tears, asking him to hold her or take her to bed.

As Y.N. gazed up at him from her position on the floor, Aemond braced himself, unsure of which mood she might descend into now.

But instead of another emotional outburst, she surprised him. Y.N. shifted to her knees, her eyes glinting with mischief as her fingers reached for his belt buckle.

Aemond’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening. "Y.N.," he warned, his voice low, but she silenced him with a smirk, undoing his trousers.

Next thing he knew, Y.N’s warm, wet mouth was wrapped around his soft cock.

Aemond put his hand on the back of her head as started to suck his cock and caress his balls.

Soon his cock sprang to life, and Aemond was losing his mind at the sight of her pink lips stretched around his hard length.

Y.N’s tongue ran around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Y.N!” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Y.N ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

Aemond’s heart almost stopped when she sucked his stones into her mouth, one at a time.

Her hand moving slowly over the hard length of him.

When Y.N engulfed Aemond’s cock in her mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Y.N was driving him crazy.

Aemond forced himself to open his eyes, he had to watch her sucking his cock. 

“Your taking me so well. Such a good girl” moaned Aemond.

Aemond knew it would push him too far to control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Y.N’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her pink lips stretched around him. Oh, it was heaven.

Y.N smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth. 

“It feels so good-” groaned Aemond his hand gripping her hair as he began to fuck her face.

“Hmmm” muttered Y.N as she dug her fingers into the flesh of his arse.

“I’m not going to last-if you carry on” Aemond admitted.

Y.N responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of Aemond’s cock as she could, whilst her other hand gently cupped his balls.

“Shit Y.N! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

She took every last drop, swallowing his seed and licking him clean.

When he recovered, Aemond saw Y.N’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking?” asked Y.N.

“Y-Yes” gasped Aemond.

“Now can I have a Burger King?”

Aemond who was still dazed from his orgasm simply nodded. Damn that mouth of hers, he thought, his mind still reeling.

As he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, he couldn’t help but shake his head with a mixture of admiration and disbelief.

He’d come home angry, jealous, ready to fight. Now, he was standing there, utterly undone, with no memory of why he was even frustrated in the first place.

TBC

[bullet-prooflove]

Something Important: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wabi-sabi1090 @lostinwonderland314 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219

Comes After:

The Farm - Carmen recalls the first day you met.

Good People - Richie and Carmy discuss a potential relationship with you.

Pears - It starts when Carmy makes an order he doesn't remember.

Prequel to:

Mornings - Carmy sleeps better with you around.

Bubble - You have no idea that you saved Carmy's life.

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW) - Carmy tells you he lvoes you for the first time.

Doing Something - Carmy owns up to something he's been doing without telling you.

Carmen spends the entirety of Christmas Day in a state of euphoria because he’s in your apartment, in your bed, fucking you. He doesn’t know how it happened, only that it started with a kiss back in the Beef over some seasonal fruit and now you’re curled up in his arms, your head tucked under his chin as his fingertips doodle patterns across your bare skin.

This can’t be my life, he thinks because this shit, it’s just too good to be true.

But it is his life and it gets better because you don’t kick him out when you wake up, instead you take a shower together and your hands on his body, it’s the most sensual fucking experience of his life.

It ends up with the two of you back in bed, his damp curls falling over his features as he kisses every inch of you. He was shy the first time, he didn’t get to experience you the way he wanted, he was too caught up in the vulnerability of the moment, the act of exposing himself to you.

Now he’s bolder with his exploration of you, more focused, more detail oriented.  He spends the next couple of hours mapping you out with his hands and mouth, discovering what makes your breathing hitch, what makes you moan, what makes your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you say his name.

He leaves you sleeping in the aftermath, his lips brushing over your forehead before he searches your kitchen for food. You don’t have much but he manages to cobble together a meal out of what you do have stowed away in your fridge and the back of your cupboards.

“I hope you didn’t mind.” He says when he looks up and sees you lingering in the doorway, wearing nothing but a t-shirt advertising the farm and black panties. “I know it’s Christmas and I didn’t have a gift so…”

He gestures at the food he’s prepared and the smile you give him, it’s everything.

“You are the gift Carmy.” You say, your lips brushing over his cheek and in that moment he realises that you actually believe that, that you believe that he’s something to be treasured, to be cherished.

He makes love to you on the couch after that, your thighs hitched high on his hips so you take him deeper because Carmy, he’s starting to get a little territorial now, he wants to claim you as his own, to be the man that you come home to, the only one you fuck.

“What would you be doing?” He asks you in the aftermath as he lies underneath you, his fingers stroking lightly through your hair. “If I wasn’t here? How would you be spending Christmas?”

“Sleeping.” You tell him, your fingertips tracing over the tattoo on his chest. “I know it’s pathetic…”

“No.” He shushes you, tipping your chin up to meet his gaze. “Trust me I get it, I would rather have slept through every single Christmas I had with my family than endure that nightmare.”

He means it you can tell. You’re kindred spirits, the two of you, both fucked up in your own kind of way. Two ruined puzzle pieces that just seem to fit together.

“Carmen.” You say quietly as you meet his gaze. “What am I to you?”

“Something important.” He says softly as he tucks a stand of hair back behind your ear. “Something I don’t have words for just yet.”

Love Carmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Bucky Barnes

Summary: After your mother's death, you're adjusting to life with your autistic younger brother. Thankfully Bucky, your most regular customer, can brighten your day.

Warnings: Caretaker stress, Insecurities, Mentions of death. Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Part 1

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Bucky was still upset with Steve's assumption the next day. Sure, you were cute, kind, hardworking, good, and all the things he's ever wanted in a partner. But he doesn't have a crush on you. He can't afford to. If you didn't return his feelings, he feels he'd never be able to recover from the blow. Worse yet, what if you do have feelings but then change your mind as you get to know him?

He enters the coffee shop but doesn't hear you welcome him. There's someone else at the front counter wearing a "Trainee" tag.

"Hello, sir. What can I get for you today?"

"Where's...where's the woman who usually works here?"

"Oh, she's in the back. Would you like me to go get her?"

Bucky has to think. You're the main reason he visits, but if he asks for you, is that going too far? Confessing too much? He must hesitate too long because the trainee gives him a weird look before slowly backing away to go get you.

When he sees you, Bucky knows something is wrong. Your eyes are puffy, like you had been crying. You smile when you see it's him, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "What's wrong, Sweetie?"

Your smile drops and you shake your head, "what...what do you mean?"

Bucky gets closer to the counter, "you've been crying. What happened? I can't do much, but if it's some asshole bothering you I can...talk to them."

You shake your head with a sad smile. "It's personal, family stuff. Nothing you can help with. But thank you for offering."

"Are you sure?" Part of Bucky's brain is screaming at him that he's overstepping. But you're hurting and he's aching to help you.

"Look, we're both just still dealing with Mom's death," you explain. "And Robby, my little brother, just needs more time to process these things than most."

Bucky's not sure what that last part means, but he understands grief. He grabs a pen and napkin from the counter and writes his phone number on it. He hands it to you, "if you ever need to talk, call or text me here. Any time of day."

The tears start forming again, "thanks, Bucky. I could use a friend."

His heart breaks at your words, but your smile is genuine and he knows he's helped.

Part 1

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen;

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly;

@stellar-solar-flare

[drewharrisonwriter]

Life Well Loved

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Dieter Bravo’s life proves that plans are overrated—and he’s never been more right about not having one.

Word Count: 12.9k words -- I KNOW! (In Monica Geller's voice)

A/N: Am I having a Dieter brain rot? Why yes, yes, I am. I know I should be writing the next chapter of Lifeline, but here we are. This story contains themes of pregnancy and navigating unexpected life changes, with emotionally intense scenes that touch on topics like potential pregnancy termination, personal doubts, and fears. Though it's mostly fluff, the narrative leans toward a hopeful and supportive direction but explores the complexities of relationships and personal growth. Because hey, it's Dieter!

Warnings: Allusion to abortion, brief mentions of substance use (past), discussions of anxiety and self-doubt, public scrutiny/social media negativity, mentions of past parental loss, minor family tensions, and emotional conversations around pregnancy. Please read with care if these subjects are sensitive for you.

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, it would mean the world to me. Just send me a message 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

Dieter Bravo never thought he’d end up married, let alone to his best friend. It wasn’t the kind of love story he had planned for himself, but then again, Dieter’s plans were usually an afterthought to his impulsive nature. He met her—his wife, the love of his life—years ago at a book signing. He’d been dragged there by a friend who swore her mystery novels were like something straight out of an Agatha Christie thriller, but with a modern, edgier twist.

“Come on, man. Just try something new,” his friend had nudged, practically shoving Dieter into the crowded bookstore. “She’s hot and her books are actually good. Not that you’d know.”

Dieter rolled his eyes but followed, pretending not to care. He didn’t read much beyond scripts, but when he saw her—standing there all wide-eyed and charming behind the signing table, chatting easily with fans—he was hooked. She had this warmth about her, a smile that reached her eyes, and a way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room.

When it was his turn in line, Dieter cleared his throat, a little unsure of what to say. “So, uh, is it true you based your killer on your ex?” he asked, flashing her his signature smirk.

She looked up, amused. “Only the charming parts. The murderous tendencies are purely fictional.”

Dieter chuckled, genuinely entertained. “Good to know. I’ll keep my charming side in check.”

She laughed, and Dieter swore he could listen to that sound all day. But the moment passed quickly, and they parted ways, the brief exchange lingering in Dieter’s mind longer than he’d like to admit.

They didn’t reconnect until months later when Dieter landed the role of a lifetime in the film adaptation of one of her books. He played the brooding lead, a role he was born to play, and she was on set every day, consulting on the story she knew better than anyone.

“Bravo!” she called out one afternoon, waving the script in the air as he finished a scene. “I think you missed a line, but you definitely nailed the smirk.”

“Missed the line? Nah, I made it better,” Dieter shot back, strutting over with that effortless confidence of his. “Besides, isn’t the lead supposed to be mysterious and broody? I’m just adding layers.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Layers of bullshit, maybe.”

Their banter was easy, and soon, late nights spent in hotel bars became their thing. They’d laugh over terrible room service and even worse dialogue changes, often rewriting entire scenes together between drinks.

“Do you think the audience is gonna buy this twist?” Dieter asked one night, his brow furrowed as he scribbled on a napkin. “It’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It’s a mystery, Bravo. It’s supposed to be dramatic,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “Besides, you’re the one bringing it to life. If anyone can sell it, it’s you.”

Over the years, their friendship grew deeper. Dieter adored her—not just for her talent, but for the way she saw right through him. She didn’t care about the Hollywood persona; she cared about the guy who struggled with his lines, laughed too loudly, and occasionally got lost in his own head. And it was clear to anyone who knew him that she was the only one who truly got him.

“Why do you even stick around?” Dieter asked one night, half-drunk and more vulnerable than he intended. They were sitting on the balcony of some hotel in Vancouver, the city lights flickering below them, empty glasses scattered between them.

She looked over at him, surprised at the question but not at the insecurity behind it. “You’re kidding, right? Who else is gonna put up with my obsessive rewriting of everything?”

Dieter smirked, but the self-deprecation was still there, hovering. “I’m serious, baby. You’ve seen me at my worst. Hell, you’ve probably seen me at my best, and let’s be real, there’s not a whole lot of difference.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was affection in the gesture. “Come on, Dee. You think I don’t know who you are? I’ve watched you screw up a million times and still pull it off somehow. You’re not as hopeless as you think.”

“Yeah, but it’s all smoke and mirrors,” he muttered, leaning back and staring at the city. “I’m just this mess pretending to be a movie star. And people buy it, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act.”

She leaned closer, her smile gentle but knowing. “You’re not acting, Dee. This is you—chaotic, brilliant, all over the place. And somehow it works. That’s why people love you. It’s why I love you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure, but it’s not exactly the stuff that makes for a stable life. I can’t even commit to a weekly gym routine, let alone… you know, anything permanent.”

“Well, it’s good you know that about yourself,” she said, her tone more serious now. “But just because you’re not ready for all that doesn’t mean you’re a failure. You’ve built this crazy, messy, amazing life, and you’ve done it on your terms.”

Dieter glanced at her, the sincerity in her eyes almost too much to bear. “But it’s still just a mess, right? Like, I don’t know how to be the guy who settles down, who has the white picket fence and the kids. It’s not in me.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make you any less,” she pointed out, nudging his knee with hers. “You’re the guy who shows up when it counts, who makes people laugh when they need it, who cares more than he lets on. And that’s enough, Dee. It really is.”

Dieter stared at her, his expression softening. “You make it sound like I’m not totally screwing everything up.”

“Because you’re not,” she said simply, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing what works for you, and that’s more than most people can say. So don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

They sat in a comfortable silence, the kind that comes from knowing each other inside and out. Dieter wasn’t sure if he could ever really change, but with her by his side, he felt like maybe he didn’t need to.

The media loved to ask when Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s lovable mess, was going to settle down. He always laughed it off, brushing it aside with jokes and his trademark self-deprecation. “Settle down?” he’d scoff to reporters, flashing that crooked grin. “Have kids? I can barely take care of myself. I mean, who’s gonna look after the baby when I’m off in Cabo or Amsterdam on a bender?”

He was always open about not wanting to be tied down, convinced that marriage and fatherhood were responsibilities he’d inevitably screw up just like everything else. Deep down, he didn’t think he was cut out for it. Not the commitment, not the kids—none of it. And yet, every time he thought about those nights spent talking with her, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his fears.

The truth was, Dieter loved being around kids, especially when visiting his favorite charities—arts programs, hospitals, anywhere that needed his presence to brighten the day. He had a soft spot for the kids who showed up at his movie premieres with homemade signs and for the shy ones who peeked out from behind their parents at hospital visits, their eyes lighting up at the sight of a real-life movie star. He’d spend hours signing autographs, posing for pictures, and handing out gifts. But wanting that momentary joy and having it every day were two entirely different things, and he didn’t think he was built for the kind of life that meant forever.

Then there was Vegas. It was one of those wild weekends that only Dieter and his friends could pull off, the kind that started with a simple plan and spiraled into chaos before anyone could catch their breath. They were there to celebrate a friend’s birthday—a milestone that felt more like a warning than a celebration to Dieter, who had spent the better part of the year dodging questions about settling down and growing up.

The night was a blur of neon lights, overpriced drinks, and the kind of reckless energy that only Vegas could inspire. Dieter and his best friend were deep into their third round of shots at some tacky but charming casino bar, laughing so hard their sides hurt. The conversation was easy, like it always was, jumping from half-remembered movie quotes to bad relationship stories that only got funnier with every shot.

“Remember when you two were drunk off margaritas and swore you’d get married if you were still single at 35?” one of their friends blurted out, pointing at Dieter and her with a tipsy grin. “Well, look at that—clock’s ticking, you two.”

“Oh please, they’d kill each other in a week,” another friend chimed in, rolling their eyes dramatically. “But hey, at least the headlines would be great.”

Dieter leaned back, smirking. “You think she’d kill me? I’m charming as hell.”

She snorted, leaning in closer to Dieter. “Charming? Sure, Dee, if charming means spilling three drinks and forgetting your lines.”

“Oh, you love it, don’t lie,” Dieter shot back, nudging her shoulder playfully.

Their friends egged them on, throwing out half-baked marriage advice between sips of whatever was in their glasses. “Just make sure you don’t pull a Ross and say the wrong name at the altar,” one joked, and they all burst into laughter, doubling over as the drinks kept flowing.

“Hey, I can pronounce her name just fine,” Dieter retorted, raising his glass to her. “What do you say, baby? You and me, Vegas style.”

“Wel…we’re way past 35 now…” she said, still smiling but now with a hint of mischief, “technically, we missed our window… so might as well make good on that old pact, right?”

Dieter stared at her, the room spinning slightly as he tried to read between the lines. They were supposed to be just friends, right? But it didn’t feel like a joke anymore, not when she looked at him like that. And for once, he didn’t want to think it through. He didn’t want to second-guess it or talk himself out of it like he usually did.

“Fuck it,” Dieter said, grinning wider than he had in months. “Let’s do it. You and me, baby. Let’s get hitched.”

Their friends erupted in cheers, half-shocked, half-encouraging, but it didn’t matter. They were drunk on cheap tequila and the reckless abandon of the Vegas Strip, where anything seemed possible. Before Dieter knew it, they were stumbling into a tacky little chapel off the main drag, the kind with neon hearts and an Elvis impersonator in the back who’d seen one too many late-night weddings.

The ceremony was a blur. Dieter remembered laughing so hard that he nearly dropped the ring—some gaudy, oversized thing they’d bought from a souvenir shop on the way over—and the way she squeezed his hand so tightly he could feel her nerves mixing with his own. There were no big speeches or dramatic declarations of love, just a lot of giggling, whispered jokes, and the kind of easy joy that felt like it belonged to them and them alone.

“Do you, Dieter Bravo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the Elvis officiant drawled, barely keeping it together.

Dieter glanced at her, still half-expecting her to back out at the last second. But she was looking at him, eyes full of that familiar mix of sarcasm and something deeper that he’d never quite put a name to. “I do,” he said, and for once, it didn’t feel like a lie.

“And do you, sweetheart, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Elvis asked, already cracking a grin.

She squeezed Dieter’s hand, barely containing her laughter. “Hell yeah, I do.”

Elvis squinted, pausing dramatically. “Are you sure? Divorces are expensive. Trust me, I’ve had three.”

Their friends howled from the pews, tossing out quips. “Yeah, blink twice if you need an escape plan!” one of them shouted, while another chimed in, “You’re stuck with him now, good luck!”

Dieter threw his arm around her, laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m the best terrible decision you’ll ever make.”

She leaned in, grinning. “Guess we’re both screwed then.”

They kissed, and it was messy and off-center, but it felt right. It was the kind of kiss that was more about the laughter and less about the perfection of the moment, which was exactly how Dieter liked it. When they pulled apart, he was breathless, and she was glowing in a way that made the whole crazy, impulsive thing feel like the best decision he’d ever made.

They walked out of that chapel with matching rings and a new reality that neither of them fully understood but were more than willing to figure out together. And in true Dieter fashion, they celebrated the only way they knew how—by grabbing greasy burgers at an all-night diner and gambling away the rest of the night like newlyweds who couldn’t care less about what tomorrow would bring.

For once in his life, Dieter didn’t feel like he was running from anything. He was running toward something—toward her—and it felt like the only thing that made sense.

–

The first few months of marriage were an unpredictable whirlwind, much like the wedding itself. There were no grand changes, no dramatic shifts—just more of the same easy companionship they’d always had, now with the added humor of “Mrs. Bravo” peppered into their banter. They spent mornings in Dieter’s cluttered kitchen, arguing over the best way to make coffee while stumbling over each other in pajamas that never quite matched. Evenings were spent curled up on the couch, watching bad movies and stealing kisses during the credits like lovesick teenagers.

Their friends couldn’t get enough of it, either. The tabloids had gone wild over the news—Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s most notorious bachelor, suddenly married to his long-time friend in a drunken Vegas escapade. Headlines like “Bravo’s Big Gamble” and “Hollywood’s Wildest Newlyweds” splashed across every gossip rag in the country. But Dieter and his wife took it in stride, shrugging off the noise and focusing on what actually mattered: them.

His family had been just as surprised but in the best way. They had welcomed her with open arms from the very first time she and Dieter had visited together. His mom had pulled her into a tight hug at the door, immediately peppering her with questions about her books and telling her how she had a shelf dedicated to them in the living room. Dieter’s siblings loved her, too—his sister often roping her into baking sessions in the kitchen, laughing over old stories about Dieter’s childhood antics that usually ended with him covered in mud or glitter or some combination of both.

It wasn’t long before she became a staple in their family gatherings, fitting in as if she’d always been there. Sunday dinners at the Bravo house turned into her favorite ritual. She’d help Dieter’s mom in the kitchen, rolling out dough for pies while swapping recipes and stories. Dieter’s nieces and nephews adored her, crowding around to hear tales of mystery and adventure, eyes wide as she brought her characters to life with every word.

“Can you tell us the one about the detective who finds the secret tunnel again?” one of his nephews had asked during Thanksgiving, tugging at her sleeve.

She smiled, glancing at Dieter, who was sitting at the head of the table, grinning like an idiot. “Only if you promise to help me figure out what’s at the end of it,” she teased, ruffling his hair.

His father, a retired fertility expert who had always been the more reserved member of the family, quickly warmed up to her, too. They’d sit on the porch during long afternoons, sipping coffee and talking about life, books, and the occasional scientific trivia that she found endlessly fascinating. He appreciated her wit, her genuine interest in everyone around her, and the way she always seemed to make his son smile.

As the year rolled by, the Bravo family embraced her more and more, and she felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t expected. She was no longer just Dieter’s wife; she was a daughter-in-law, a sister, and an aunt. She was family.

So when Christmas rolled around again, she was eager to be back at the Bravo household, despite feeling under the weather. She’d been sick for nearly two weeks, and Dieter had been worried. She barely ate, surviving mostly on pesto chicken paninis and iced coffee—the only things she could keep down. Still, she was excited to see his family, to bask in the warmth of his mother’s home-cooked meals and his sister-in-law’s desserts. She was looking forward to being surrounded by people who loved her as much as she loved them.

The moment they stepped through the front door, Dieter’s mom engulfed her in a hug, commenting on how thin she looked, and his sister immediately dragged her into the kitchen, insisting on making her favorite cookies. Dieter watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smile. She fit here—so naturally, so effortlessly—that it almost made him forget how odd it all still felt to be someone’s husband. But then she’d look at him across the room, with that same smile she’d had since the bar in Vegas, and it felt right.

But as they settled into the cozy familiarity of his childhood home, Dieter’s father began to notice something. It wasn’t just that she looked tired—there was something else. A subtle glow to her skin, the way her eyes would soften when she looked at Dieter, the quiet but unmistakable aversions to certain foods she normally loved. When she grimaced at the sight of his wife’s famous lasagna and instead picked at a simple salad, he raised an eyebrow. He had seen it before, four times with his own wife, and the theory formed in his mind almost instantly.

It was the little things: how she leaned into Dieter when she thought no one was looking, resting her head on his shoulder like she couldn’t quite keep herself upright; the way her laughter was softer, tinged with something almost nervous. She hadn’t touched a drop of wine the entire evening, claiming she wasn’t in the mood, which was unlike her—especially when Dieter’s mom brought out her favorite bottle from the cellar.

Dieter’s dad observed quietly, piecing together the signs with a mix of curiosity and growing certainty. He knew better than to jump to conclusions, but every instinct told him that there was more to her recent sickness than a simple bug.

–

Later that evening, after dinner, Dieter and his father found themselves outside on the patio. The chill in the air was biting, and Dieter’s breath formed little puffs of smoke as he lit a cigarette, the faint glow of the ember flickering in the dark. He offered one to his dad, who simply shook his head, declining as usual. They settled into an easy silence, the kind that came from years of shared moments like these, watching the yard stretch out before them, dotted with twinkling Christmas lights that cast a warm, festive glow over the familiar landscape.

Dieter took a long drag, savoring the brief buzz of nicotine, and leaned back in his chair. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that always made him think too much, but tonight he welcomed it. He glanced sideways at his dad, whose face was half-lit by the soft glow of the porch light, lost in thought as he nursed his coffee.

“You know, son,” his father said finally, breaking the silence, “I couldn’t help but notice something about her tonight.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Yeah? Like what?”

His father hesitated, his expression thoughtful as he swirled the coffee in his mug. “She’s been feeling under the weather, hasn’t she? Seems a bit off.”

Dieter nodded, taking another drag and blowing out the smoke in a slow stream. “Yeah, she’s been sick for a couple of weeks. Picky about food, which isn’t like her. She’s basically living on those pesto chicken paninis. She can’t keep much else down.”

His father chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing, like he was recalling something long ago. “Huh. That’s interesting. Reminds me of your mom back in the day.”

Dieter frowned, glancing over at him. “What do you mean?”

There was a pause, and his father’s eyes stayed fixed on the yard, lost in a memory that Dieter couldn’t quite place. Finally, he spoke, his tone careful, almost gentle. “Have you considered she might be pregnant?”

Dieter’s reaction was instant—he snorted, nearly choking on his cigarette smoke as he laughed it off, but the sound was more nervous than amused. “Pregnant? Nah, no way. She’s got an IUD. Besides, we’ve been careful.”

His father smiled, but it wasn’t condescending. It was the kind of smile that spoke of experience, of having lived through more than one surprise in his lifetime. “IUDs aren’t foolproof, son. Nothing is. And I’ve seen those signs before. Aversions, fatigue, the way she looked at food tonight… I saw it with your mother every time she was pregnant.”

Dieter’s laugh faded, replaced by an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends as his mind raced. “You’re serious?”

“Look, I’m not saying she is,” his father said, raising his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “But I’ve been around this long enough to know the signs when I see them. I’m just saying, it’s possible.”

Dieter stared out at the yard, the once comforting sight now blurred by the thoughts colliding in his mind. He tried to dismiss it, to chalk it up to his dad’s habit of overanalyzing things. But suddenly, every little moment from the past few weeks replayed in his head like a reel he couldn’t pause: the way she’d cried over soup earlier that evening, overwhelmed by finally finding something she could eat; the quiet, tired smiles; the sudden need to rest her head on his shoulder whenever she got the chance. Dieter had brushed it off as just a rough patch—nothing serious, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with rest and time.

But now, hearing his father say it out loud, it all started to click. The missed meals, the strange cravings, her emotional reactions to things that normally wouldn’t faze her. It was like putting together a puzzle he didn’t even know he was working on.

“What do I do if you’re right?” Dieter finally asked, his voice low, tinged with a mix of fear and something else he couldn’t quite name.

His father took another sip of his coffee, considering his son carefully. “You talk to her. Find out for sure. And whatever the outcome, you handle it together. That’s what this is, Dieter. Marriage, family—it's not about knowing every answer. It’s about facing it together, no matter how unexpected it is.”

Dieter nodded, though his mind was still reeling. He didn’t know if he was ready for what his father was suggesting, but one thing was clear: he needed to talk to her. His dad’s words hung heavy in the cold night air, and suddenly, the easygoing world Dieter had grown comfortable in felt a little less certain. 

–

That night, back in their room at Dieter’s parents’ house, the tension lingered like a thick fog. They were staying for the weekend, and though the familiarity of the guest room usually felt comforting, tonight it felt like the walls were closing in. Dieter sprawled out on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV without really watching. His mind was a mess of half-formed thoughts, circling back to the conversation with his father, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

She was curled up next to him, absorbed in her Kindle, but every so often, Dieter noticed her shifting slightly, like she couldn’t quite get comfortable. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out how to bring up what was weighing on him without sounding like he’d lost his mind.

“So, funny story,” Dieter started, forcing a lightness into his tone that he didn’t feel. “My dad has this theory. He thinks you might be pregnant.”

She looked up from her Kindle, her brow furrowing as she processed his words. “What? Where’d that come from?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dieter laughed, though it sounded more nervous than amused. He fidgeted with the remote, clicking through channels too fast to see what was on. “He’s been watching you tonight, noticing stuff. You know, the food aversions and all that. He said something about it reminding him of when my mom was pregnant.”

She blinked, staring at him like she wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious. “That’s… random. I mean, it’s just paninis and iced coffee. And I’ve been stressed, that’s all. I mean, I have an IUD.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told him,” Dieter said, shrugging. “I told him it’s not possible, right? But he kept going on about how those things aren’t foolproof and—”

She cut him off, her laugh sharp and a little shaky. “No, yeah, of course. It’s just… I mean, we’ve been careful. I thought…”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk crossing his lips. “Careful? Are we really?” He gave her a knowing look, recalling their many reckless moments. “I mean, I lost count of the times we said, ‘eh, what’s the worst that could happen?’”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands, but she couldn’t hide the grin peeking through. “Oh God, don’t remind me. You said it’d be fine because ‘science, baby!’”

“Yeah, classic me,” Dieter laughed, feeling the tension break just a little. “Maybe our ‘science’ needs some workshopping.”

They chuckled, genuinely amused by their own recklessness. For a moment, it felt like any other night, just the two of them joking around like they always did. But then the laughter faded, and the unspoken possibility lingered, nudging at the back of their minds.

Dieter hesitated, then set the remote down, his voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “IUDs aren’t a hundred percent, you know.”

She didn’t say anything right away, her eyes locked on him as if searching for some reassurance he couldn’t quite give. Finally, she set her Kindle aside, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Do you think… do you think he’s right?”

The question hung in the air, too big to ignore, and neither of them moved. Dieter rubbed the back of his neck, his mind racing. “I don’t know, baby. But we could… find out.”

She nodded, her breath hitching slightly, and they didn’t wait to talk themselves out of it. The drive to the pharmacy was tense and quiet, but the nervous energy turned into something almost comical when they got inside. Dieter, trying to look inconspicuous in his cap and mask, accidentally grabbed a COVID test from the shelf and tossed it in the basket without looking.

She glanced at it, biting back a laugh. “Dee, unless you’re worried I’ve got a pandemic brewing, I think you grabbed the wrong kind of test.”

“What?” He squinted at the box, his eyes widening. “Oh, shit. I just saw ‘test’ and panicked. Could you imagine? ‘Congratulations, you’re… COVID positive!’”

They both snorted, trying to suppress their laughter as they swapped it out for a pile of pregnancy tests. “At least we’re wearing masks,” she quipped, trying to hide her nerves behind the humor.

Dieter nodded, their masks pulling at their grins as they paid quickly and slipped back out into the night. Back in their room, she took the tests into Dieter’s private bathroom, thankful she didn’t have to make the awkward walk down the hallway past his nephews, who were still glued to the PlayStation. Dieter paced the room, his anxiety growing with every passing second. He could hear the faint sounds of her moving in the bathroom—running water, the crinkle of plastic, the sound of her soft sighs—and each noise sent a jolt of unease through him.

He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. What if his dad was right? What if they were really about to become parents? He didn’t know how to do this—any of it. He wasn’t cut out to be a dad. Hell, he could barely take care of himself most days. But then he thought about her, about the way she used to talk about wanting a family, back in the early days of their friendship, years before they got married. She’d share those dreams in the quiet moments when they were lying in bed, late at night, her voice soft and wistful as she painted a picture of a life she wanted someday—one with kids, a messy house full of love, and mornings that started with chaos and ended with bedtime stories.

He hadn’t heard her talk about it in a long time, not since they’d crossed the line from best friends to whatever it was they’d become now. They hadn’t really discussed it after they got married, like the possibility had just been a footnote in their drunken Vegas vows, not something real. But Dieter knew she probably still wanted it, that deep down, those dreams hadn’t gone away, just tucked themselves into a quieter part of her heart.

And now, for the first time, Dieter let himself admit what he’d been denying all along—he wanted it, too. He tried to fight it, tried to tell himself he was still the same guy who didn’t want to be tied down, but the truth was, he’d settled down the moment he said “I do.” And now… he’s sure he’s ready to dream of that life, too. The one where they weren’t just figuring things out as they went but actually working towards something together, as husband and wife, as mom and dad.

Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, and she stepped out, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly. She didn’t have to say anything; Dieter could see the truth in her eyes. Without a word, he followed her into the bathroom, and there they were, lined up on the counter: five pregnancy tests, each one showing two clear lines.

Positive. All of them.

Dieter stared at the tests, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find something, anything, to say. He could hear her breathing beside him, shallow and uneven, and he knew her heart was pounding just as hard as his. She swallowed, her eyes fixed on the tests as if they might change if she stared long enough.

She finally broke the silence, her voice small but steady. “It’s okay, Dieter. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll… I’ll take care of it.”

–

Her words snapped Dieter back to reality, his brows furrowing as he tried to grasp what she meant. He watched her walk past him out of the bathroom, her movements brisk and determined, but there was a tremble in her step that made his stomach drop. She went straight to the dresser, grabbing her phone with a familiar sense of purpose. Dieter followed, his confusion mounting as she dialed a number with shaky hands.

“What are you doing?” Dieter asked, his voice edged with growing alarm. “Who are you calling in the middle of the night?”

She glanced at him but didn’t answer directly. “It’s fine, Dee. I’m going to take care of it.”

The line clicked, and a familiar voice filled the silence—one of her friends, an OB-GYN Dieter had met several times at dinner parties and gatherings. “Hey, I’m sorry to call so late,” she said into the phone, her voice tight but controlled. “I need another favor.”

Dieter’s heart sank as he heard the gasp on the other end. The doctor’s voice wavered, filled with concern. “Are you sure? I mean… are you really sure about this?”

Dieter watched her, still trying to catch up, but he could hear the tension in the doctor’s voice and the weight of what was being asked. She glanced at him, her eyes meeting his, and in that moment, Dieter felt like the ground was slipping out from under him. “I’m sure,” she said quietly. “I’ll wait for the prescription in the morning.��

She ended the call and set the phone down, her hand trembling. Dieter felt his shock morphing into a hot, simmering anger, his chest tightening as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. “What?” he asked, his voice rising, desperate to believe he’d misheard. “What prescription? Prenatal vitamins?” He was trying to hold onto some hope, clinging to the possibility that this wasn’t what it seemed, that she wasn’t about to make a decision without him. But deep down, he knew.

She sighed, biting her lower lip, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Dieter could see her knees wobble, and before he could process it, she was leaning against the side table, her legs barely holding her up. He rushed to her, guiding her gently to the bed and kneeling before her, his anger wavering as he saw the look in her eyes.

Tears streamed down her face, silent and relentless, and Dieter realized it was the first time he’d seen her cry in years. Not since her father had passed, not even when she’d broken up with someone he knew she had loved deeply. She was always so strong, so composed, but now she was trembling, and all she could manage were soft, broken apologies. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she repeated it over and over. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Dieter’s anger melted away, replaced by a sharp pain that pierced his chest. He reached up, cupping her face gently, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “Hey, hey, calm down, okay? Just… baby, please… can you tell me what that was all about?”

She nodded, her breath hitching as she tried to collect herself. The silence between them was tense, heavy with unspoken fears and the weight of what was happening. Finally, she spoke, her voice small and wavering. “I know you don’t want kids, Dieter. I’ve known that from the start, and I respect that. I love you so much, and I know I don’t say it often, but I do. I love the life we have together. And I didn’t… I didn’t want to ruin that.”

Dieter listened, the words sinking in, but every syllable felt like a sting. “You’re not ruining anything, baby,” he said, his voice softer now but still edged with confusion and hurt. “But you didn’t even… I mean, we didn’t even talk about it.”

She looked down, her tears falling faster now. “I was afraid to. You’ve always been so clear, and I didn’t want to make you feel trapped. I know kids were never part of the plan. I didn’t want to put that on you.”

Dieter took a deep breath, his mind still reeling, but he tried to keep his voice steady. “You’re not–Jesus…I understand why you feel this way baby…” he said gently, squeezing her hands. “And I’m sorry we never talked about it before, not even once. I know I said I didn’t want kids, and I thought that was it. But… then…” He sighed deeply… “W-we should at least talk about it before you go and get that prescription in the morning.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening with tears, clearly caught between fear and guilt. “Dieter, I—”

“No, listen,” he interrupted softly, his tone calm but firm. “I want you to know that whatever you decide, I’ll support you. I’ll stand by you no matter what. But I need to know that if you go through with this, it’s because you want to, not because you think it’s what I want. I respect you, and I love you. And yeah, maybe I’ve always been afraid of having kids, but I also know you’ve wanted this. I’ve known for years, and I’m sorry we’ve never talked about it since getting married. But maybe… maybe now’s the time we should.”

She shook her head, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t want to pop our bubble, Dieter. I’ve spent so long thinking that if I brought this up, it would be too much for you. You’ve said it before—kids are overwhelming, right? And I get it. Hell, the thought of it overwhelms me, too. But it’s different for you. I didn’t want to lose you. I love you so much, Dee. I love what we have. And I was scared that… that if I bring it up, it would drive you away.”

Dieter’s heart ached as he watched her, the weight of her words sinking in. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “But you can’t just… handle this alone. Not for me.”

She took a shaky breath, the truth finally spilling out in the soft, halting words she’d kept buried. “That’s why I got the IUD. A few months after we got married… after I found out I was pregnant. You were away in London for that shoot, and I was alone. And I—” She paused, choking back a sob as she struggled to get the words out. “I panicked. I was terrified of what it would mean for us, for you, for everything. So, I… I took care of it. I didn’t want to burden you with it, and I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Dieter’s face went pale, his expression shifting from shock to something more profound—hurt, confusion, and an aching sadness that he didn’t quite know how to process. His hold on her hands went slack. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t known. While he was away, filming scenes and living the life he thought he wanted, she had been here, facing a reality that should have been theirs to share.

“You—” Dieter started, standing up, trying to say something but the words caught in his throat. “You did that… without telling me?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Dee. You were gone, and I was scared. I didn’t want you to feel trapped or forced into something you never wanted. I thought it was better that way.”

Dieter’s mind raced as he tried to grasp what she was saying. He ran a hand down his face, cupping his mouth as he took in a long drag of air. The anger he’d felt earlier had melted into something more painful, something that cut deeper than he expected. He’d never wanted this, but now, faced with the reality that they’d lost something before it had even begun, Dieter felt a profound sense of grief for what could have been—and for what he still had a chance to fight for.

He swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I wish you’d told me. I wish you hadn’t gone through all that alone. I know I’m not perfect, and I know I’ve said a lot of shit about not wanting kids, but… I want you. And if you want this—if you want us to have this—then I want it, too. But you have to be sure. This isn’t just about me. It’s us, and we can’t keep pretending it’s not.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all she saw was the man who had always been there, even when they hadn’t known what the hell they were doing. Dieter knelt before her, his hands steady on her knees, offering her the quiet reassurance she’d been afraid to ask for. They were scared, both of them, but for the first time, it felt like they were scared together.

A heavy silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. She stared down at her trembling hands, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Finally, she broke the quiet, her voice small and cracking under the strain. “I understand if you want a divorce, Dieter.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks again, and she looked up at him, and he could feel and see the pain and resignation in them. “I’d give it to you, you know. If that’s what it takes for you to live your truth. If it means you get to live the life you always wanted—not something complicated by a kid and a wife.”

Dieter’s breath caught in his throat, and he shook his head, trying to grasp the gravity of what she was saying. “What? No… what are you talking about? Divorce? That’s not—”

“I don’t want to trap you, Dee,” she interrupted, her voice quivering. “I never wanted you to feel stuck. At least if we divorce, I get to keep my baby, and you get to live your life. We both get what we want.” She said it with a heartbreaking kind of finality, her gaze dropping as though she couldn’t bear to look at him.

Hearing her say “her baby” like that shattered something inside Dieter. He could feel his chest tighten as his emotions boiled over, hot tears streaming down his face. “You think that’s what I want?” he whispered, his voice breaking as he tried to keep it down. They were still in his parents’ house, and he didn’t want anyone hearing this, but he couldn’t keep the hurt out of his words. “You think I want to live some half-assed life without you? Without… our baby?”

She flinched at his words, torn between the guilt and the love she still felt for him. “Dieter, you’ve always said—”

“I know what I’ve said!” Dieter snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He pressed a fist to his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break free. “God, I’ve been so fucked up. So caught up in what I thought I wanted, what I told everyone I didn’t want. I never… I never told you how much I love you. How much I need you. And now you’re willing to sacrifice everything because of me? Because I’m too much of a mess to communicate? That’s not fair, baby. That’s on me.”

She looked away, blinking back tears as she tried to keep her voice steady. “It’s not about blame, Dieter. I can’t live with the guilt of not giving you the chance to have the life you deserve. I’d rather… I’d rather set you free than see you stuck in something you don’t want. I love you too much for that.”

Dieter shook his head, his shoulders slumping as the enormity of her words hit him. He didn’t know how to make her understand. “But I don’t want to be free,” he said, almost pleading. “I don’t want any of this without you. I’ve spent my whole life running from everything—commitment, responsibility, you name it. But not you. Not us. You… you made me realize I could be more than that.”

She listened, her heart breaking with every word. “I don’t want to be unfair, Dee. I’ve spent so long dreaming about this—about being a mom. And I know kids were never part of your dream, and I just… I don’t want to take that from you.”

Dieter wiped his eyes, his voice hoarse and desperate. “You’re not taking anything from me. Please, don’t do this. Don’t make decisions for me. You’ve always been my partner, my equal… baby, you make me want to be a better person… whatever the hell that looks like…”

She let out a shaky laugh through her tears, reaching up to cup his face. “I just… I didn’t want to pop our bubble. It’s been so perfect, even with all the chaos. And the thought of losing that, of losing you in such a way… it scares me more than anything.”

Dieter’s sobs turned to quiet laughter, a broken sound that mirrored the bittersweetness of the moment. “You think I’m not scared? I’ve been scared of fucking everything my whole life, and you were the one person who made me think I didn’t have to be. You’re my team, baby. We’re a damn good one. And I know that if we have this kid… our kid… we’d be amazing parents, too.”

She looked at him, her tears finally slowing, replaced by a fragile smile that made Dieter’s heartache. “I just don’t want to be unfair,” she whispered, her voice soft but sincere.

“You’re not being unfair,” Dieter said, his tone tender but firm. “Please, just… reconsider. Our relationship, our marriage… our baby. Let’s figure it out together. No more guessing what the other person wants.”

She nodded, her eyes locking with his, and for the first time since the night had started, she felt a glimmer of hope. They were both terrified, still reeling from everything that had come to light, but at least now, they were facing it together, no more secrets, no more hiding. Just the two of them and the uncertain but hopeful future with a baby they were ready to build.

–

The next morning was Christmas, and despite the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded the night before, Dieter and his wife had decided to keep their news to themselves for now. It was too early—too new, too precious, and far too complicated to try to explain just yet. They put on their best smiles, exchanged gifts with his family, and managed to get through the morning without giving anything away.

As soon as they left his parents’ house, they headed straight to her OB-GYN’s office. Dieter squeezed her hand in the waiting room, both of them tense but trying to stay calm. When the doctor finally confirmed the news—they were eight weeks along—it felt both real and surreal at the same time. They were both relieved and overwhelmed, knowing it was still too early to tell anyone, too early for announcements, but their hearts were already full of the possibility.

Back at their house, Dieter immediately started making little changes, moving things around and insisting on turning one of the guest rooms into a nursery. “This room gets the best light,” he said, gesturing animatedly as they stood in the empty space, still filled with random furniture and boxes they hadn’t sorted through. “We can do a crib over here, maybe a rocking chair by the window… Oh, and I saw this thing on Pinterest—don’t laugh—about these little wall decals, like stars and moons. We could do a whole sky theme.”

She watched him, leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t even know you had a Pinterest account.”

Dieter turned, shrugging sheepishly. “What? I like my aesthetics.”

She laughed, her heart swelling at the sight of him so invested. It was like watching a kid with a new project, and she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. “You’re really into this, huh?”

He looked at her, eyes sparkling with an excitement that was infectious. “Yeah, I am. What’s so funny?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s just… I never thought I’d see the day when Dieter Bravo is this excited about becoming a dad.”

Dieter’s expression softened, and he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around her. “Well, get used to it, baby. I’m all in.”

As the days passed, they began to settle into this new phase of their life together, their once spontaneous and free-spirited existence slowly evolving without them even realizing it. They had always been people of the moment, living day to day with little thought of what came next. Before, their conversations rarely drifted beyond the present—they were about last-minute weekend trips, late-night takeout, or whatever wild idea Dieter would come up with next. The future was never really on the table, not in a serious way. They thrived on spontaneity, on the freedom of not being tied down by plans or expectations.

But now, there was a subtle but undeniable shift in the air between them. It wasn’t something they talked about directly, but rather something that quietly settled in, like a warm, comforting blanket. Their conversations began to naturally drift into what was coming, not just what was happening now. They found themselves talking about baby names over breakfast, Dieter suggesting offbeat, quirky names that made her laugh while she countered with more classic choices that she’d always dreamed of, being the writer that she is and her love for literature.

Dieter would randomly pull out his phone to show her baby gear he’d found online, everything from the practical to the absurdly adorable. “Look at this stroller, baby. It’s got all-terrain wheels! Imagine us taking the kid hiking. Okay, maybe not hiking, but, you know… walking down a slightly uneven sidewalk.”

She’d laugh, watching him with a kind of fondness that was new, soft, and overwhelming. She’d catch him in the nursery sometimes, hunched over with a tape measure, making notes and sketches of where things should go. He was planning—actually planning—and it warmed her in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

One afternoon, she found him kneeling on the floor, surrounded by paint samples and wallpaper swatches, muttering to himself about whether to go with the pale blue or the pastel purple. “I don’t know, do you think clouds are too cliché? What if we did something more abstract? Like a sky, but, like, artsy. You know, like, dreamland stuff.”

She leaned against the doorframe, a smile playing at her lips. “Dieter Bravo, debating interior design for a nursery. Who would’ve thought?”

He looked up, his grin boyish and bright. “I know, right? Next, I’ll be on HGTV. ‘Bravo’s Baby Rooms.’ It’ll be a hit.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart swelled with something deeper. They were still them, still the same pair who’d decided to get married on a whim in Vegas, who’d spent years living in the moment and rarely looking ahead. But now, the future wasn’t something scary or overwhelming. It was something they were building together, brick by brick, conversation by conversation.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments, she would find herself lying awake at night, her hand resting on the small swell of her belly, feeling the gentle flutters of life within her. Dieter would be next to her, snoring softly, and she’d just listen, soaking in the warmth of their home. She realized then how much had changed between them—how they’d gone from two people floating through life, clinging to the present, to a couple that was starting to dream together. 

It wasn’t just about the baby, though that was the catalyst. It was the way their whole world had shifted, gently guiding them toward a future that felt bright and full of possibility.

Their once spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants relationship was evolving into something richer, something that made space for plans and hopes. She’d catch Dieter browsing parenting books or obsessively researching the best baby monitors, and each time, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of love she hadn’t quite known before.

It wasn’t forced or awkward; it was the most natural thing in the world, like breathing. They were still the same Dieter and his wife, the quirky mystery novel writer—impulsive, playful, unorthodox in every way—but now, their lives together carried an undercurrent of something… warmer, softer, and a little more planned than usual. 

One evening, she was curled up on the couch, cozy under a thick, soft blanket, her Kindle in one hand and the other resting gently on the small but noticeable bump of her belly. She’d grown accustomed to the comforting weight of her growing child. Dieter strolled in from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of popcorn, and dropped onto the couch beside her with a contented sigh.

“You look way too comfortable,” she teased, nudging him playfully with her foot, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him sink into the cushions like he belonged there.

“I am,” Dieter said, settling in beside her and resting his head against her shoulder. He let out a contented sigh, his eyes drifting down to her bump, and his hand found hers, resting warmly over the swell of her belly. “I love this. I love everything about this.”

She chuckled, her fingers absentmindedly tracing soft circles on her belly, feeling the little flutters of movement beneath her skin. “You always loved kids, Dee. I know that. I just… I never thought I’d live to see the day when you’d actually be a dad.”

Dieter’s smile softened, and tears welled in his eyes as he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her chest. She could feel the quiet, vulnerable sobs shaking his shoulders, and it melted her heart. “You’re making my deepest, darkest dreams come true, baby,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her warmth, words spilling out with raw sincerity.

She laughed, tilting her head back as she ruffled his hair affectionately. “I thought your deepest, darkest dreams that I made come true involved a strap-on, Bravo.”

Dieter snorted, lifting his head just enough to flash her a cheeky grin. Without missing a beat, he buried his face into her chest, playfully motorboating her. She squealed, swatting at his head as they both dissolved into laughter, tangled together on the couch.

“God, you’re such a perv,” she giggled, half-heartedly pushing him away even though she was laughing too hard to mean it.

He finally pulled back, grinning unapologetically as he reached up and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing playfully. “Honk honk,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but unable to keep a straight face. “Dieter, you’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he said, still chuckling as he leaned in to kiss her softly. 

“I love you, mama.” He whispered against her mouth. 

–

As days turned into weeks, they found themselves back at the doctor’s office for the 20-week scan. The drive there was tense, filled with nervous silence and half-hearted attempts at small talk that did little to mask their growing anxiety. Dieter’s usually easygoing demeanor was replaced with restless energy, and she could feel it radiating off him as they sat in the waiting room, both of them on edge.

She sat nervously beside him, her leg bouncing up and down as she stared at the outdated magazines scattered on the table in front of them. Dieter glanced over, noticing the jittery movement. He nudged her lightly with his elbow, offering a crooked smile. “Babe, you’re bouncing your leg like you’re tweaking. Seriously, I’ve been around a lot of meth heads, and you’re giving me flashbacks.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as a burst of laughter escaped, her nerves momentarily easing. “I can’t help it, okay? This is… I’m freaking out.”

Dieter reached over, his fingers lacing through hers as he squeezed gently. “I get it, but you gotta chill. You’re acting like you’re on something, and trust me, I know that vibe.” He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. “You’ve gotta stop reading all those Reddit posts. They’re nothing but horror stories.”

She nodded, though she still looked pale, her eyes flicking around the room as if searching for something to distract herself. “I know, I just… I can’t help it. I’ve read too many stories about 20-week scans going wrong. What if something’s wrong, Dieter? I don’t think I can handle it.”

Dieter leaned in closer, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Hey, nothing’s wrong. Our kid’s strong. Just like you. Baby’s gonna be fine, okay? Let’s just breathe.”

They were finally called into the scan room, and the doctor greeted them with a warm smile, chatting casually as she prepared the machine. “How are we feeling today? Ready to see this little one?” she asked, her voice calm and reassuring as she applied the cool gel to her belly. Dieter stood by her side, holding her hand tightly, both of them staring at the monitor with bated breath.

The doctor moved the wand over her stomach, her brows knitting slightly as she searched the screen, waiting for a heartbeat. At first, there was nothing—just static silence, the absence of that familiar, rhythmic thump that they both so desperately wanted to hear. The doctor adjusted the wand, repositioning and angling it slightly, her expression remaining neutral but focused.

Dieter could feel his wife’s grip tighten, her fingers digging into his, and he squeezed back, his own heart pounding. “Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with fear.

The doctor glanced at them, her smile reassuring but a little strained. “Sometimes the baby’s in a tricky position so it’s hard to get the heartbeat. Let’s just give it a moment.” She moved the wand again, her eyes flicking between the screen and her belly as she pressed a bit harder, trying to get a better view.

But the silence lingered, and the tension in the room grew thicker. Dieter could feel his pulse racing, his mind going a mile a minute. He tried to keep calm, tried to joke, but his voice came out strained. 

“Kid’s already messing with us, huh? Definitely takes after me.”

It falls flat, and he frowns deeper. 

The doctor’s brows furrowed as she moved the wand slowly, deliberately, the silence stretching on until it was almost unbearable. “Come on, little one,” she murmured under her breath, adjusting the machine again.

She glanced at Dieter and his wife, reading the fear on their faces. “I know it’s nerve-wracking, but try not to panic. This happens sometimes.” The words were meant to soothe, but each passing second felt like an eternity, and Dieter felt like the walls were closing in.

Suddenly, the doctor paused, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh—hold on. I think I forgot to turn on the sound.” She reached over and pressed a button on the machine, and instantly, the room filled with the steady, reassuring thump of their baby’s heartbeat, clear and strong.

Dieter and his wife both let out a collective sigh of relief, laughing shakily as the tension broke. “Oh my god,” she breathed, her head falling back against the table as she squeezed Dieter’s hand. “You just shaved ten years off my life.”

The doctor chuckled, her face apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that. It happens more often than you’d think.” She moved the wand slightly, showing them their baby on the screen. “There we go. Heartbeat is strong, and baby looks perfect.”

Dieter let out a shaky laugh, wiping at his eyes as he glanced at his wife. “Kid’s already got us on edge. I guess that’s just payback for all the years I’ve been a handful.”

They all shared a brief, much-needed laugh, the tension slowly melting away. But the doctor’s expression turned a bit more serious as she continued to move the wand, examining the screen with careful precision. She began marking key areas on the screen, capturing images and making notes as she went. “Now, remember, this is your 20-week scan,” she said, her tone gentle but factual. “This is an important one because it’s when we check for congenital anomalies. We’ll be looking closely at your baby’s organs and development to make sure everything is on track.”

Dieter and his wife nodded, their earlier relief tempered by the weight of what the doctor was saying. This wasn’t just about hearing the heartbeat; it was about seeing if their baby was healthy, if everything was developing the way it should. The room fell quiet again, the soft whir of the machine the only sound as the doctor carefully scanned each part of their baby’s tiny body, capturing and saving images to review.

“We’re looking at the brain and skull,” the doctor explained, pointing to the image on the screen as she took a snapshot. “The structures look well-formed, and everything is measuring normally.” She moved the wand again, pausing over the baby’s chest and marking the image. “And here’s the heart. We’re checking for proper function, looking at the chambers and blood flow. So far, everything looks great.”

Dieter squeezed his wife’s hand, the feeling of both awe and anxiety filling the cavity of his chest. Every tiny movement on the screen felt monumental, every word from the doctor a lifeline. The doctor continued, showing them the spine, the kidneys, the limbs—every detail scrutinized with care and captured for documentation.

“And here’s the stomach and the diaphragm. We’re looking for normal positioning and function,” she said, moving methodically, her voice steady and calm. “All good signs here.” She took another image, marking it on the screen with a series of measurements.

Dieter’s wife squeezed his hand, her eyes locked on the screen, watching their baby’s tiny fingers flex and curl. “Is that… is that the baby’s hand?” she asked, her voice soft, filled with wonder.

“Yes, it is,” the doctor smiled, zooming in on the tiny hand and capturing the image. “Five fingers, all accounted for.”

They watched in silence, their emotions swinging from relief to fear and back again with every scan of the baby’s developing organs. The doctor’s voice was steady, reassuring them as she checked for any signs of congenital anomalies. Each confirmation that everything was normal felt like a small victory, a breath they didn’t realize they were holding.

“Everything looks normal and healthy,” the doctor finally said, pulling back and saving the last image. “Your baby is developing beautifully.”

Dieter and his wife both let out breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding, their hands still clasped tightly together. It wasn’t just relief—it was gratitude, to the doctor and the universe, for keeping their little bun healthy. 

They thanked the doctor, their voices filled with a concoction of relief, exhaustion, and overwhelming joy. As they left the office, they felt lighter, buoyed by the knowledge that their baby was safe and thriving. There’s only one thing for them to do now: start telling their family and friends. 

–

“You okay?” Dieter asked, his voice gentle as they pulled into his parents’ driveway. The house looked warm and welcoming, draped in fairy lights that twinkled against the evening sky, but she couldn’t quite shake the tightness in her chest.

She nodded, but it was automatic, her mind racing with thoughts she hadn’t fully processed, and her tears just started spilling like clockwork. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s a lot, you know? Your parents are going to be so happy, and I—I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have anyone to tell.” She tried to laugh it off, her voice catching slightly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “God, listen to me. I’m such a mess. It’s probably just hormones.”

Dieter squeezed her hand, his expression softening. He knew how much she missed her dad, how his absence lingered in moments like these. “It’s not just hormones, baby,” he said gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You’re allowed to feel this. I wish your dad was here, too. I think about it all the time—how proud he’d be, how he’d probably be spoiling you right now.”

She let out a shaky breath, “It’s stupid, but it just hit me today, you know? Like, he was the only family I had, and now… I guess I thought I was past all this. But it’s different now. This is so big, and I feel like I’m missing that piece.”

Dieter pulled her hand up, kissing her knuckles softly. “It’s not stupid. And you’re not without parents completely. My parents love you—hell, they might love you more than they love me. They text you more than they text me, anyway.”

She let out a laugh, and it felt good, a brief moment of lightness breaking through the weight in her chest. “They do, don’t they? They’re always sending me recipes, cute cat and dog vides, and asking for book recommendations. Meanwhile, you get the ‘how’s your liver?’ texts.”

Dieter grinned, happy to see her smile even through tears. “Exactly. Trust me, they’re going to be over the moon about this. You’re their family, too. And yeah, it’s big—it’s bigger than anything we’ve done—but you don’t have to carry that alone. My parents, they’re gonna be here, every annoying, loving step of the way.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling a little more grounded. “Thanks, babe. I needed that.”

Dieter nodded, his own emotions bubbling under the surface. He knew how hard this was for her, and he wanted to make sure she never felt like she was alone in this. “Hey, we’re in this together. And we’re about to make their year, so let’s go in there and give them something to celebrate.”

They stepped out of the car, hand in hand, and walked up to the front door. She adjusted her coat, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest, but Dieter squeezed her hand reassuringly. They’d been parked for a while, gathering themselves, and now it was time. Dieter knocked, and within seconds, the door swung open.

Dieter’s mother stood there, her expression a mix of concern and relief. “Oh, there you are! We were starting to get worried—you’ve been sitting out there for ages. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Everything’s fine,” Dieter assured her, giving her a quick hug. “We were just… talking.”

His mom nodded, though she kept glancing between them, still a little uncertain. “It’s so good to see you two! Come in, come in.”

Dieter’s father was in the living room, setting out coffee and cookies on the table. He looked up, grinning in his usual dry way. “Hey, you two. What’s this? I thought you’d be busy writing another bestseller or maybe dragging Dieter around to get some culture.”

Dieter laughed, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not that, but it’s something just as good.”

His wife exchanged a quick look with him, her nerves sparking up again. Dieter, sensing her hesitation, gave her an encouraging smile and gently reached up to help her with her coat. As he slipped it off her shoulders, he draped it neatly over the back of the couch, revealing the gentle curve of her growing bump.

His parents’ eyes widened, and for a second, they both just stared, taking it in. Dieter’s mom’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh my gosh… are you…?”

Dieter’s wife nodded, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and joy. “We’re having a baby. I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was only stunned silence, and then his mom let out a joyous cry, rushing forward to hug her. “Oh, sweetheart! This is the most wonderful news! Look at you—how far along are you? I can’t believe it!”

Dieter’s dad, who usually kept his emotions under wraps, pulled Dieter into a hug, his voice thick with pride. “Son, this is incredible. I can’t tell you how happy I am for you. I’m not sure if you remember this, but there was a time when I wasn’t sure you’d ever get your life together, let alone settle down.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by his dad’s words. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.” He hesitated, swallowing hard before speaking again. “I know I’ve been a mess, but… I’m really excited about this. I want to do it right.”

His father clapped him on the shoulder, his expression warm. “You’ve already done right by me. You’ve grown up, Dieter, more than I ever thought possible. And now you’re going to be a dad. I couldn’t be prouder.”

They all settled into the living room, Dieter’s mom already buzzing with plans. “Okay, so tell me everything! When’s the due date? How are you feeling? Have you thought about names yet? We have to start planning—oh, and the nursery! We’ll need to paint, get a crib—”

Dieter held up his hands, laughing. “Mom, slow down. You’re going to choke yourself on your own saliva with how fast you’re going. One thing at a time.”

She laughed, waving him off but nodding. “Okay, okay. But this is just… it’s all so exciting. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long, and now it’s finally happening.”

Dieter’s wife smiled, feeling the warmth of Dieter’s mom’s excitement wash over her. “Thank you. Really, I’m so glad we get to share this with you. It’s been a lot to take in, but having you both here means the world.”

Dieter’s mom squeezed her hand, her eyes filled with emotion. “You’re not without parents completely, you know that, right? You’ve got us now. We’re going to be right here with you, every crazy, wonderful moment.”

She nodded, fighting back tears. “I’m so grateful for that. You have no idea.”

Dieter’s dad leaned in, his voice quieter but no less heartfelt. “And I mean it, Dieter. I see the way you are with her, how much you’ve grown. You’ve got this, both of you. And I know you’re going to be amazing parents.”

As they continued to talk, laugh, and make plans, one thing stood out among them– they knew there was so much ahead—so many unknowns, so many firsts—but for now, it was enough to just be together and celebrate this beautiful news.

–

After spending a few hours basking in the joy and warmth of Dieter’s parents, they knew the next step was sharing the news with the rest of the world. It felt like another hurdle, one they were both eager and anxious to jump. They drove back home, feeling the weight of their secret beginning to lift. 

Once they were settled on their couch, they knew it was time to tell Dieter’s manager. Dieter pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, glancing over at his wife. “Ready?”

She nodded, though a nervous flutter still twisted in her stomach. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Dieter hit the call button, putting it on speaker. His manager picked up on the second ring, his voice chipper and businesslike. “Dieter, my man! What’s up? You ready to talk about the next big project? We’ve got offers coming in like crazy.”

Dieter laughed, exchanging a look with his wife. “Hey, uh, about that… we’ve got something to tell you. It’s kind of a big deal.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then his manager’s voice dropped, curious and cautious. “Oh God, are you in trouble again? Do I need to get a lawyer on the line?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Dieter said quickly, his grin wide. “Actually, it’s the opposite of trouble.”

His wife jumped in, smiling as she spoke. “We’re having a baby.”

The line went quiet for a beat, and then his manager erupted in a cheer. “What? Oh my God! Are you serious? This is amazing! Bravo’s having a baby! You two, this is incredible.”

They laughed, feeling the enthusiasm radiating through the phone. “Yeah, we’re serious,” Dieter said. “We’re excited, and we wanted to let you know before it goes public.”

His manager was still buzzing, the excitement palpable. “You’re going to break the internet with this. But listen, you’ve got to be prepared. This is going to be huge news—your fans, the media, everyone’s going to go nuts. Some good, some bad, you know how it is. But honestly, this is the best news I’ve heard all year.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, exchanging congratulations and discussing the logistics of managing the media frenzy that would inevitably follow. Once they hung up, Dieter turned to her, his eyes bright. “You ready to tell the world?”

She nodded, and together, they crafted a simple but heartfelt post for social media. They chose a candid photo taken that morning, with Dieter’s hand resting protectively over her small bump, both of them smiling with unfiltered joy. The caption read: Our greatest adventure yet. Baby Bravo coming soon.

They hit ‘share,’ and within moments, the post began to explode. Likes, comments, and shares flooded in at a speed that was almost overwhelming. Messages of congratulations poured in from friends, fans, and fellow celebrities. The overwhelming support was heartwarming, and they found themselves caught up in the happiness of it all.

But as the notifications kept coming, there were, of course, some that stung. Dieter scrolled through, his brow furrowing at the inevitable wave of negativity from the corners of his fanbase that couldn’t handle change.

“She’s probably just using him for fame. Classic.”

“Guess Dieter’s fun days are officially over.”

“He doesn’t deserve this. What about all the times he said he didn’t want kids?”

Dieter sighed, shaking his head as he turned off the screen. “I knew there’d be some backlash, but damn. People can be ruthless.”

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I mean, I expected some of it, but it still hurts. I just thought… I don’t know, that people would be happy for us.”

Dieter pulled her into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. They don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through to get here. This is our moment, not theirs.”

She nodded, leaning into his comfort. “I know, it’s just… I guess I didn’t expect people to be so… mean. I thought this would be different.”

Dieter kissed her temple, his touch gentle. “Some people will never be happy, babe. But look at all the love we’ve got here.” He pulled up the comments from their closest friends, the ones who knew them beyond the headlines. Messages of support, love, and shared joy filled the screen, reminding them of the people who truly mattered.

“Look at this one,” Dieter said, reading aloud. “‘I always knew you’d be the best parents. Baby Bravo is lucky to have you both.’” He smiled, scrolling down. “And this one—‘I’m so proud of you guys. Can’t wait to meet the little one.’”

She smiled, letting the warmth of those messages push away the sting of the negativity. “I guess we have to focus on that, huh?”

“Exactly,” Dieter said, squeezing her close. “This is our family. Our life. And no one gets to take that away from us.”

They spent the rest of the evening curled up together, ignoring the noise of the outside world and focusing on the love that poured in from those who truly understood. Their phones continued to buzz, and the news spread quickly, but for now, it was just the two of them, dreaming about their future with the baby they were already so deeply in love with.

A few weeks had passed since their announcement, and life had begun to settle into a new kind of normal. 

They were still receiving messages of congratulations, along with the occasional snarky comment, but the love outweighed the negativity by miles. 

Dieter and his wife had embraced this next phase with open hearts, pouring over baby books, setting up the nursery, and spending quiet moments together, dreaming about the future.

One night, as they sat in the nursery—still half-finished, with paint samples and swatches scattered everywhere—Dieter was busy assembling a crib, grumbling softly as he fumbled with the instructions. His wife sat cross-legged on the floor, watching him with a soft smile, one hand resting on her belly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for your dad to help with that?” she teased, noting his intense focus and the stray bolts lying around.

Dieter looked up, smirking. “Nah, I’ve got it. Besides, I’ve got to prove I can put something together that’s not going to collapse on us. I mean, it’s literally a crib. If I can do this, I can do anything.”

She laughed, watching as he finally managed to fit the pieces together, looking far too proud of himself. He stood back, admiring his handiwork before turning to her, his smile broad and genuine. “See? Told you I’d figure it out.”

She patted the spot beside her on the floor, and he sat down, pulling her into his side. They sat there quietly for a moment, both gazing at the crib—the first tangible piece of their new life together.

“Can you believe this is happening?” she murmured, her voice soft with wonder. “Sometimes it still feels like a dream.”

Dieter nodded, his hand drifting to rest over her bump. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been in a lot of weird dreams, but this… this is the best one. And it’s real.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat against her cheek. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

He turned to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “We already are, baby. And it’s only going to get better.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in the promise of what was to come—messy, beautiful, and entirely theirs.

[shitsndgiggs]

Hi! Could you do a story with Fermìn where's like reader can't be at the like final match of the euros cause she's like an F1 and is at the factory training for next race and like Fermìn is all :( but like tries to be cheery but like he doesn't know that's she's there and it goes from angst to fluff?

Have a nice day/night

Am sorry for living in your requests

A/N: I don’t know anything about f1, so hopefully it’s understandable

VICTORY WITH YOU - FERMÍN LÓPEZ

Surprising Fermín at the euro final

Fermín López x f1 driver! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The roar of engines filled the air, echoing through the factory as I worked through another intense training session.

Being a Formula 1 driver meant constant practice, preparation, and focus, but today, my mind was somewhere else entirely.

Spain was playing in the final of the Euros against England, and Fermín was there, about to step onto the biggest stage of his life.

I should’ve been there to cheer him on, to watch him achieve his dreams, but my schedule had me stuck in the factory, miles away from the stadium.

We had talked earlier in the day, and I could hear the disappointment in his voice, though he tried to sound upbeat.

“It’s okay,” Fermín had said, trying to reassure me. “I know you’re busy with training. You’ve got a race coming up. I’ll just imagine you’re there with me.”

“I wish I could be,” I’d replied, guilt and frustration gnawing at me. “I’ll be watching as soon as I get home, I promise. Win it for me, okay?”

He laughed softly. “I’ll do my best. But don’t worry—next time, I’ll be cheering for you at your race.”

It stung, not being there, but what Fermín didn’t know was that I had managed to get off early.

My team had let me leave after the morning session, and I’d caught the quickest flight to Berlin, keeping the entire plan a secret. I was determined to surprise him, to be there when Spain lifted that trophy.

Now, I stood in the tunnel of Olympiastadion, the cheers of the crowd vibrating through the walls. The match had ended just moments ago, and Spain had done it—they’d won the Euros.

I could feel the electricity in the air as the players celebrated on the field, but I had to wait. I wanted to surprise Fermín at the perfect moment, when he least expected it.

From where I stood, hidden behind the barrier, I watched as the Spanish team lined up to receive their medals.

Fermín looked exhausted but elated, his smile wide as he hugged his teammates and held his medal in his hand, admiring it. He had worked so hard to get here, and seeing him in this moment made my heart swell with pride.

As they began to celebrate with their families and friends, I saw Fermín near the trophy, getting his picture taken with it.

He looked around, as if searching for me, and my heart ached seeing the brief flash of sadness in his eyes when he didn’t spot me in the crowd.

It was time.

I quietly made my way toward the field, weaving through the crowd of players and staff, my excitement bubbling up with each step.

Fermín had his back to me, completely unaware as the photographer adjusted his lens for another picture. He was still smiling, but I could tell he was missing something—someone.

I crept closer until I was just a few feet behind him. My heart pounded with anticipation.

“Excuse me,” I called softly, trying to keep my voice steady as I took a step forward.

Fermín turned, his brow furrowed at first, but then his eyes widened in shock. “What...?”

“Surprise!” I said, unable to keep the grin off my face.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at me in disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite process what was happening. Then, in an instant, his face lit up with the brightest smile I’d ever seen.

“Are you serious?!” he exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion as he dropped the trophy and practically launched himself at me, wrapping me in a tight hug.

I laughed, holding him just as tightly, feeling the weight of everything melt away. “I couldn’t miss this, could I?”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes shining with happiness. “I can’t believe you’re here! I thought you were still at the factory!”

“I got off early,” I explained, smiling up at him. “I had to see you win.”

Fermín’s grin only widened as he shook his head in disbelief, still holding onto me like he couldn’t believe I was real. “You’re amazing. This… this is perfect.”

He kissed me softly, the noise of the celebrations fading into the background for a moment as we stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms. When he pulled away, he looked at me with pure joy.

“You have no idea how much better this makes today,” Fermín said, his voice full of love. “Winning this is incredible, but having you here to share it with? That’s everything.”

I laughed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

He tugged me back into his arms, swaying slightly as the team continued their celebrations around us. “Thank you. For being here, for always supporting me. It means everything.”

“I’ll always be here,” I promised softly, pressing my forehead to his. “For every win, every loss, and everything in between.

As the photographer motioned for him to take another picture with the trophy, Fermín pulled me into the frame, his arm securely around my waist.

“Come on,” he said, grinning down at me. “We’re celebrating this together.”

We posed for the picture, the two of us beaming as he held the trophy high, and I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect moment.

[writingsfrombeyondthegrave]

Opposites Attract

Astrid Deetz x Fem!Reader

Summary- You had been a psychic ever since you were a child, but recently you had been overwhelmed by how many spirits were contacting you, giving you no time to yourself anymore. Seeking out Lydia Deetz, you go to her home for advice.

Requested by @perfectartisanwerewolf

Warnings- Ghosts, probably some timeline issues, morbid facts, talking about the afterlife, more of my ghost facts (Tell me when you're getting sick of them)

When you met the Deetz family, it was several years after the whole "Ghost House" incident. They had always been kind to you and your family.

The ghosts in Winter River were more plentiful than most people knew. It happened to be a very quiet and uneventful town, but your life never had a dull moment here. You were constantly sought out after Lydia had moved. Now the deceased flocked to you for guidance.

Apparently, they described your psychic abilities as "A shining light in the never-ending darkness". Which would be flattering if they hadn't always been around you for every second of your day. Some spirits followed you to the grocery store, to school, and even sat at your desk while you were sleeping, waiting for you to awaken.

You wanted to help them; you really did. It was just that the only privacy you got now a days was when you excused yourself to use the facilities.

Recently there had been a death in the Deetz family, so Lydia had returned to town with her daughter to attend the funeral and help her stepmother, Deelia. It was like a saving grace to have someone else help with the spirits around the place.

Walking up the giant hill to their home with a stack of books in your hand was proving difficult, but you needed Lydia's help desperately. You waited patiently after knocking on their door, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Lydia welcomed you into their home with a smile. After making your way to the couch and placing your books on the table, you took a quick look around the room. There were still many of Deelia's sculptures, most of them unsettling to say the very least.

Your attention shifted back to Lydia as she sat across from you. Talking about ghosts with anyone else might have been awkward, but not with her. She was almost like a second mother to you.

Even now as you sat in the house, you could sense spirits lingering just outside your line of sight.

"I agree, it can be overwhelming, you just need to learn how to set boundaries with them." She explained simply and you nodded.

"I thought I did, but I guess I could try and be sterner with them?"

Her smile grew and you both turned as you heard footsteps descending the staircase. Astrid was in the middle of putting on her sweater to leave the house when she stopped and stared at you, as if in a trance. You smiled and offered her a small wave, trying to be polite.

Your smile awakened something in Astrid. Like a light at the end of a tunnel. A breath of fresh air, or a missing puzzle piece to finally complete a part of herself that had been missing for years. The world faded as all she could focus on was you. She snapped out of it with a cough, finally making her way to stand in the living room with you both.

Lydia introduced you and in turn introduced her daughter, Astrid. It took a moment for her to regain her composure before she muttered an almost completely quiet "Hi."

On the inside, her heart pounded against her chest, but she fought to remain uninterested in anything that involved her mother. Especially now that it seemed like a complete stranger could easily occupy her mother's attention without even trying. It was frustrating.

It was an odd experience, how you made her heart pound. She wasn't sure if it was from jealousy or something more, so she opted to ignore it and continue her journey out the door.

A frown grazed your lips, confused by her behavior before you shifted back to continue your conversation from before. Lydia spoke up first. "Astrid can't see ghosts like we can. The living ignore the strange and unusual."

That didn't seem to brighten up your mood even in the slightest.

"You're saying Mrs. bright eyes can also supposedly see ghosts? Great, here I thought she seemed normal. Is there anyone normal in this town?" Astrid scrunched her nose and picked at her food as she sat at the kitchen table.

"Whatever makes us more money, maybe she could be on your show Lydia!" Deelia smiled as she continued eating, only half paying attention to their conversation.

"Maybe you would be more interested if you talked to her about it, Astrid. It could be good for you to have some friends in this town." Lydia suggested, trying to stray away from yet another argument with her daughter.

"Ghosts are everywhere, you may even see one without even realizing it. Have you ever seen someone walking on the side of the street, but when you look back they're gone?" You smiled; your books open in front of you as you spoke enthusiastically to Astrid.

You sat in her room, a stark contrast from your own. While you liked the paranormal and macabre, her room seemed more... gloomy.

Did you know how much light you radiated? Or the shimmer that appeared in your gorgeous eyes whenever you spoke about this mumbo jumbo? Astrid didn't care for spirits or the paranormal. She believed it was all fake, but the way you spoke to her and the way you looked, she swore she would follow you anywhere.

She simply nodded, trying to snap out of that trance you put her in. Sometimes she believed you must've been a witch instead of a psychic, because how had you possibly gained so much power over her cold heart?

"Are there any here now? You know, ghosts?" her eyebrow raised curiously, just thinking of an excuse for you to speak more.

"I know there is one here, but I haven't been able to place it. It's a male energy."

"Do you use candles or sprinkle some paprika on stuff for rituals?"

Her enthusiasm was great, if not a bit misplaced and incorrect. Your smile widened as you laughed, a freeing sound.

"I've been talking forever, how about you tell me something you're interested in? I know you don't care about this stuff"

Astrid froze, fearing that you caught her. She cleared her throat and blushed softly, looking away as she wracked her brain for anything interesting to say. "Did you know that Mount Everest has a certain area called 'Rainbow Valley' because of all the multicolored jackets and climbing gear that's still attached to the mummified corpses of those who failed to get to the top and froze to death?"

Your head tilted and silence loomed between you both before she spoke again.

"A cult leader named Jim Jones poisoned 918 people by forcing them to drink Kool-Aid mixed with cyanide, chloral hydrate, valium and Phenergan. It was considered one of the largest intentional losses of life since 9/11." She continued talking, trying her best to fill the silence.

Your giggles made her stop digging a deeper hole for herself. You looked amused and not terrified in the least. "Why Kool-Aid?"

"Probably because it was the cheapest" Astrid smiled wide at you, happy that you didn't see her as some sort of creep.

The next morning, Astrid was determined to gain more information about spirits, wanting another chance to spend time with you. She even went as far as to ask her mother for help, which she would deny until the end of her days.

Surprisingly, it wasn't as painful as she thought it would be. It was actually nice to have a common interest. Or so Lydia thought at least. Meanwhile she was interested in you, and not in fact her mother's psychic abilities.

By the time you showed up at her house, she opened the door to you and smiled softly, gesturing for you to come inside. She soon regretted that action as if you would think she was a dork for gesturing like a ringleader in some cheesy circus movie.

You didn't seem to notice her inner turmoil, simply enjoying the fact that she invited you back, saying she had something to share with you.

Sitting on her bed with your legs crossed, you leaned your head in your hand as you gave her your full attention. Everything you did seemed to light a spark in her chest.

"I learned some stuff about ghosts and wanted to run in by you. Maybe I could add it in with my history facts" Astrid spoke with a little more enthusiasm, as if excited to share with you.

She took a deep breath as she tried remembering all of the things her mother had previously told her. "Is it true that there are different types of ghosts? And that they're not all humans?"

You nod your head and sit up a little straighter. "Very good. There are many different classifications of ghosts, including non-human ghosts that never had a soul. Those may include poltergeists, which are simply manifestations of negative energy in a certain space. Thats why you can't communicate intelligently with a poltergeist, because they have no soul or sense of being. They're just energy."

That actually caught her attention, maybe the paranormal wasn't as fake as she thought it was. How could someone possibly come up with a lie that detailed in such a short amount of time? She sat beside you and resisted the urge to kiss you right there and then. Never in her life has she been attracted to someone simply because of their interests and passion when speaking about them.

"Will you go uh... ghost hunting with me at Dracula's castle this summer? I was planning on going there alone after... after my dad passed away. But I'd like you there."

You smiled brightly and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, hugging her tightly. "I would love to"

Bonus:

Lydia stood a careful distance away from Astrid's bedroom door. She wanted to give her daughter some privacy, but she was overjoyed to see the smile return to Astrid's face. The one that had been lost since her father.

She argued that it was to see what about you made her so happy. As she leaned in closer, she heard a gruff voice behind her, making her jump.

"Thats our daughter alright" He spoke, munching on a bucket of popcorn. He leaned against the wall smugly, watching Lydia with a smirk.

Her smile vanished as she stared him down. "Beetl-" She began to utter before he waved his hand dismissively.

"Alright, alright. Your Kid" He huffed out an annoyed sigh before vanishing.

A/N- I finally finished writing this one and I hope that it's to your liking! I tried my best. Usually, I base the reader off of myself to make writing it easier but I tried to switch it up a bit this time.

Thank you all for your patience with me writing this, and I'm sorry for the delay.

Please send in more requests! Next I will be working on a lost boys fic and the second part to the tom riddle series

Credits-

Book Divider- @firefly-graphics

Green swirl divider- @anitalenia

---

Taglist: @mirage018

[thedarkzyxabyss]

Here’s a set of characters I created a few years ago for a small kingdom I made!

It’s a coastal kingdom which is famous for its large colosseum!

King Carrion

He/They

Seventh in line for the throne, Carrion was a mistreated, sickly prince (so much so that his family literally named him something that means carcass 💀). Looked down upon constantly, this guy wasn’t really guaranteed any future of any kind.

When a pandemic swept through his kingdom, however, he found himself as the only survivor due to living in a separate place (due to being ostracized) which saved his life. Now finding himself as the ruler of his small nation, he tries his best to keep his kingdom afloat despite being very unqualified for the task…

His face (along with parts of his body) is disfigured from abuse and mistreatment. He hides it behind a mask/prosthetic.

He’s incredibly shy and self-deprecating, but he is trying his best for his people.

Tries to keep up airs of a “competent and mysterious” ruler, but he’s really having a panic attack on the inside lol

Collected his guards with the help of Nexus. Honestly is like one of those dads that gets bullied by his kids

Nexus (guy with large star blast on his face)

He/Him

A skeleton of unknown origin. He applied to be a knight at an early age and worked his way up to be King Carrion’s personal guard. A extremely skilled and capable knight despite his origins and disability.

His right arm is actually missing! He doesn’t talk about how he lost it often.

A super chill guy, almost like nothing bugs him at all.

He doesn’t tend to have any presence whenever in a room full of people, and kind of doesn’t speak much unless spoken to.

Married his war buddy for tax benefits

Genuinely cares for Carrion despite everything the king has been through. Very loyal to him.

Neutral towards the other guards, but likes to mess with Soup a little lmao

Soup

He/They

A descendant of a sub species of skeletons that originate in one of the most unloveable, hostile places on the continent. Built to survive and adapt, these people were referred to as “the warrior tribes”, known for their immense strength, keen instincts, and violent behavior.

Works as one of King Carrion’s Guard, has a special role as a “Royal Executioner”

Part-Time works at the colosseum as a gladiator (although he dresses closer to a show pony 💀)

Currently in a situationship /lh

Annoyed with Nexus but he’s his superior sooooooo

Trains Caviar but also just likes fighting them lol

Steals Muffin’s food 60% of the time

Caviar

She/They/It

A young sea beast that has the capability to shape shift into a massive leviathan, known for causing typhoons and sinking countless of ships.

Works as one of King Carrion’s guard, usually works as a speedy alternative to sea travel.

Was mistaken as a merfolk by an underground business and was taken from her mother. She later bonded with a few other kidnapped children at their facility located in the middle of the ocean. She ended up single-handedly destroying half of the compound, and escaping with most of the other children to the nearest kingdom (which happened to be Carrion’s kingdom).

Loves to swim around and eat lots of fish, as well as caviar (lmao)

Likes to bug Muffin for snacks

Play fights with Soup lots

Muffin

He/They/It

A living suit of armor. Well, more technically, he’s a spirit that inhabits a suit of armor (kind of similar to/inspired by Mad Dummy in Undertale)

Works as one of King Carrion’s guard, less so actually doing his job and more so being a glorified cook.

A gentle giant, would rather not want to fight and instead resolve things peacefully

Loves baking

Gets bullied by Soup a lot lol

Dotes on Caviar

( also minor liatris jumpscare in the last image grgrgrrrhgghghgrrghgh i love my boy but i wanna gatekeep him but i wanna share him oughhhhh)

[ak319]

Village Boy x Fem civil servant reader

《Beloved's Veil》

Part II

➺Part I

It's been two days since your arrival at Al-Razeh. Maha, your PA, poured tea into your cup and hers, and you both sat down, enjoying the evening and relaxing on your estate's lawn.

"The weather is nice today, Ma'am," Maha said, taking in the cool breeze.

"Indeed," you replied, savoring the calm. After a moment, you turned to her. "By the way, you’ve lived here all your life, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," she answered, glancing at you curiously.

"So... any folklore tied to this village? Since, you know, villages are known to be famous for such things." You smiled, lighting the mood with a bit of humor. “Often having their own stories.”

Maha chuckled softly at your inquiry and drew her chair a bit closer to yours. “Well, not exactly folklore, but there is this family. Personally, neither my family nor I are closely acquainted with them, but…” She took a sip of her tea, her words now capturing all your attention.

"They are the Jafaris--Kadir Jafari’s family, they own general stores here, two of them. He has three sons. The oldest two are married and have children, but their youngest… he’s always been something of an enigma around here.”

Your curiosity piqued, you snorted softly. “An enigma?”

“Yes, ma’am, an enigma,” Maha’s voice took on a tone of anxious seriousness. “He’s known for his extraordinary beauty. I have not seen him myself though. So, up until he was about sixteen, everything seemed fine. But then, he suddenly vanished from his friends’ lives and stopped attending school. Despite the family’s best efforts to conceal the issue, it eventually came to light that he was... possessed. The situation was dire, his agonizing screams were reportedly heard throughout the quiet streets. This was happening around the time of his second brother’s wedding. Guests at the house, including those from the neighboring families, overheard the commotion. The disturbances along with conflicts within the family caused tensions to rise, and at one point, it nearly led to the engagement being called off. Fortunately, the wedding went ahead, but Habib was absent, cited as being ill by his family.”

You listened with growing intrigue, though a pang of sympathy tugged at your heart. Such occurrences were tragically real, and often, people not only suffered but sometimes perished.

"Let me guess," you said, shifting your gaze to Maha, "you mentioned he was--no, is--beautiful?"

"Yes, that’s correct."

"Then black magic? Possibly from relatives?" You inquired, noting the surprised look in Maha’s eyes.

"Y-yes," she stammered. "I mean, that's what most of the people think. The cleric himself when consulted by some of the village elders, particularly Kadir’s friends, didn't reveal anything except that it was indeed something paranormal."

"That's often the case with such situations," you remarked. "Clerics typically avoid naming names if it's a matter of black magic. If you discover the culprit on your own, that's one thing, but directly asking the clerics usually only gets you vague responses. Or maybe the family didn't want the details out."

Black magic presented a confusing challenge when it came to legal matters. The laws were clear, if someone was caught practicing black magic, they faced severe penalties. Yet, the shadowy nature of these practices often meant that many perpetrators remained hidden. Clerics, bound by their own reasons, often withheld crucial information about those involved. In villages like Al-Razeh, such issues could be predictably common. To you, black magic was not merely a mystical concern but a serious crime. The victims deserved justice, and those who perpetuated such malevolence needed to be held accountable.

“Ma’am, how do you know so much about these things?” Maha’s childlike curiosity brought a smile to your face.

“Nothing special,” you replied, “just a hobby. So, how is the boy now?”

"Oh! I missed a part," Maha said, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. "People, like you mentioned, initially suspected the relatives because that's common in cases of black magic. But his brothers were also under suspicion. They always seemed to harbor resentment towards Habib. After all, he’s the most beautiful of them, so it wouldn't be surprising if they were involved. Men too get jealous over these matters."

With a pitiful sigh, you set your cup on the table and leaned back. "It breaks one’s heart to hear such stories--family turning against family. This... magic stuff is no joke. Deep-rooted jealousy can lead to such tragic outcomes, tearing apart lives and families."

"Indeed," Maha agreed solemnly. "But it could just have been a normal possession and not caused by magic cuz like I said, he is said to be very beautiful. He's reportedly doing better now, but he hasn’t left the house since then. It might be the cleric’s advice, or perhaps it's his parents' protectiveness or... his brothers' doing. Some people speculate that he might have died."

“What? Died? But didn’t the cleric solve his problem?” you asked, puzzled.

“Yes, he did. It’s just a rumor--he can’t be dead. You can't hide something like that for so long. People who are the family's relatives and friends, have seen him inside the house. So, he’s definitely there.” Maha chuckled, shaking her head at the absurdity of such rumors.

"What about the cleric? He still here?"

"Oh no, he was from some other place. Kadir called him here for his son's treatment." You hummed and took in the information. Then a subtle smirk graced your lips.

“It could have been a lover, too,” you suggested casually.

“What?”

You petted Milo, your cat, who had jumped onto your lap. “It might have been a lover who cursed him, someone who wanted him. One of the leading cause for black magic."

“He was 16.”

You laughed, “So? She could have been 16 too. Who knows? Anyway, did you put the reports in my study?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, I’ll go freshen up.” You stood up, leaving Maha to enjoy her tea on the lawn. Your thoughts shifted away from the village story, focusing instead on the duties that lay ahead.

═════ ◈ ═════

Odai stepped into the small shop, removing his glasses as his gaze briefly settled on the figure behind the counter. What caught his attention were the eyes--unmistakably unique, as if they held a quiet depth. But the rest of the man’s face was hidden beneath a cloth, adding an air of mystery.

"Um, two packs of cigarettes." Odai glanced back at the car parked outside across the road. Through the tinted windows, he could see his reflection.

"I can't."

Odai’s head snapped back in surprise. Is he hearing things?

"Two packs of cigarettes, brother," he repeated, a bit more firmly this time.

But the man behind the counter shook his head again, those evasive eyes refusing to reveal more. What was going on?

"What?--what do you mean? It’s just a pack of cigarettes. Why are you saying no?"

"I-I can't sell them... I don't want to."

"Why? That’s your job! Why even own a shop then? Is this how you treat your customers?" Odai's frustration grew.

"No... I just don’t sell cigarettes... They’re harmful."

Was this man serious? Was he actually joking?

"Look, boy. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I need them, so I’m gonna ask one last time before I leave. Hand over the cigarettes."

But all he got in return was another silent shake of the head. That was it.

"Fine, keep running your business like this bud and you’re bound for success," Odai muttered, "And maybe don’t stock cigarettes in your shop if you’re not planning to sell them!"

He stormed back to the car, slamming the driver’s door shut accidentally. The noise made you glance up from your file.

"What’s wrong? Did you get them?" you asked, noticing his disgruntled expression.

"I’m so-rry, ma’am… um… the boy in the shop… he refused to sell. God, I can’t believe it--like, what even was that? But there's another store nearby so , we will go there." Odai stammered, frustration clear in his voice. Before he could shift into gear, you stopped him with a curious question.

"Wait, he refused to sell cigarettes?"

"Yes." Odai nodded, still baffled.

"That’s interesting. And did he say why?"

"They’re harmful." Odai’s ears flushed as he heard you chuckle softly. He wasn’t sure if you were annoyed or just amused by the whole thing.

"Now this is intriguing. Someone refusing to run their business properly... now that’s a case worth looking into." Still chuckling, you slipped out of the car before Odai could respond, but he quickly followed, his curiosity piqued.

Like him, you took in the scene before heading to the small counter tucked in the corner. There, the figure sat quietly, standing the moment you approached, his demeanor almost shy under your gaze.

"You’re the one who refuses to sell cigarettes because they’re harmful?" you asked, your voice curious yet firm.

He nodded. His eyes, though not meeting yours directly, seemed to speak in a language of their own--soft but full of meaning.

"Do you know who I am?" You wondered if the uniform might catch his attention.

A brief silence followed before his voice, barely above a whisper, reached you. "No.."

"I am the new DC."

"T-he DC?"

"That's right."

"I still… won’t sell." Odai huffed behind you, clearly irritated, but you hardly noticed. Your eyes softened, lighting up with quiet amusement at the childlike defiance. "Why? This is not how you run a shop, boy."

"I don’t want you....our… new DC to be harmed. I won’t let a pack… kill an honest officer."

For a moment, time seemed to still. Never in your life did you imagine hearing something so simple, yet so profound. His words, spoken with such gentleness, struck something deep inside you. Just who was this man? You could sense Odai’s stunned silence behind you, just as surprised by the unexpected warmth in those gentle words.

After clearing your throat, you finally asked, "What’s your name?"

"H-Habib, miss."

This… this is Habib? The Habib that Maha had told you about?

"They’re the Jafaris--Kadir Jafari’s family. They own general stores around here, two of them."

And here you were, standing in one of them. But how was he… here?

From behind a curtain serving as a door to an adjoined room, a man in his late fifties appeared, his presence steady and familiar. He moved to stand beside Habib.

'That must be Kadir, his father.'

"Oh! I’m sorry, I was just praying in the other room. How may I help you?" Kadir asked politely, his tone warm. Meanwhile, Habib stood quietly to the side, his gaze fixed downward, trying to shrink into the background, as if seeking shelter behind his father’s presence.

"Well, our DC wanted some cigarettes, and this boy refused to sell them," Odai interjected with a trace of frustration in his voice.

"Oh--I’m so sorry. Ma’am, please, forgive him. He’s new to this… and, well, he refuses to sell them to anyone," Kadir said with a chuckle that barely masked his embarrassment, as he reached for the cigarettes.

"No, it’s alright. Really, I don’t want them. And… you’ve raised a kind soul, sir," you said, your gaze briefly shifting to Habib, who still stood quietly, his presence almost ethereal. Maha was right. If those eyes alone held such depth and softness, then his face… You couldn’t help but feel a quiet curiosity bloom within you, wondering what beauty lay beneath the mask. Yet, it wasn’t a thought born of desire--no it was reverent. There was a satisfaction in knowing that Habib remained untouched by the eyes of envy or malice.

"I--thank you, ma’am. But, please, if you still want--"

"It’s fine." You smiled, your voice gentle. "I’ll just take those chips instead. Thank you."

Before leaving, your eyes found Habib’s one last time. For a brief second, he looked back, those soulful eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that touched something deep inside you. And then, just like that, the moment passed. Something stirred in your chest as you made your way back to the car.

His demeanor, though shy and reserved, had an innate warmth that contrasted starkly with the pain you suspected he might have endured. Habib's eyes, so expressive despite their attempt to hide behind the mask of modesty, spoke volumes. How could anyone ever think to harm such a gentle, innocent soul? His kindness made him so pure, yet so brave in his quiet way. Your heart ached at the thought of someone cruel, someone arrogant, standing where you were now. If they had received the same refusal, what might they have done to him and his father?

(AN: I cried writing this due to the unspoken romance which is more to come and I just wanna give the biggest hug to Habib so bad 😭)

[maybemeursault]

look okay it's bad to erase marvin's canonical sexuality and the fact that She Likes Men but i literally genuinely with all my heart think that she is a trans woman

[ohnoitsz1m]

Halflife ponies. Btw.

A warning to any MLP enjoyers: if this ends up on derpibooru or any similar site I'll gnaw you into splinters like a cheap plastic dog toy. I'm on the DNP lists under animatorfun and I'll request a new link for this blog specifically if I havw to. Please stop reuploading my shit 💀

Edit: i forgot to reenable the layer with Gordon's glasses it's so over. I was wondering why she looked weird oughhgggh

Edit2: fixed gordon <3

[musubiki]

lately ive been thinking about the contrast going on in Early Lime where hes like "tbh im pretty sure i could have any girl i wanted including mochi i mean i guess if she wanted we could give it a shot one day but i dont really care lol" and then very easily becoming completely unhinged for her the second he gets a tinge of romantic affection

[strawbebbiesart]

201km 🏘️💕🚌