#what you want to write shouldn’t just be in the epilogue

[daisychains334]

my favorite type of tumblr post is where the notes are longer than the post itself lol

[pepperonijem]

v. you know i got a soft spot for you || to.you

"but I'm up all night, thinkin' 'bout how it could be you to change my heart."

summary: Levi's always been good at keeping his distance, but he realizes he wants more. He wants to be by your side. It's time to tell you how he feels. pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader content: cursing songs mentioned: soft spot - keshi

A/N: Consider this not just the finale, but also the to.you christmas special. Enjoy, and thank you for everyone who's read and commented! You have made my holidays so merry. Sorry this took so long. I'm depressed lol. I might do a short epilogue, since I found one more song I want to write about >:)

comments and rb's are appreciated :)

previous chapter || masterlist

Jean Kirstein was annoying, Levi decided. 

Levi’s eyes were glued to the dance floor where Jean had just twirled you for the second time in this song. You laughed as you spun around and wobbled back to him, dizzy. Levi was annoyed at the first twirl, but a second one? It’s a jazzy rendition of Jingle Bell Rock, not Dancing With the Stars. It was excessive… but it wasn’t – it shouldn’t be — offensive. That was what annoyed him the most. Jean wasn’t overstepping or crossing any lines. He was just… there. Dancing with you. Making you laugh.

Jean’s arms reached out to your shoulders to help you keep your balance and Levi felt his fingers tighten around the rim of his glass. He leaned in to say something to you and Levi’s jaw clenched.

“I don’t get it,” Levi muttered aloud.

“Get what?” Levi didn’t even bother to turn around as he heard Eren sidle up beside him, leaning his elbows back on the wood of the bar.

“What the hell can be so fun about dancing?” Levi took a sip of his drink. “To jazz, nonetheless.”

Eren shrugged in response. “Usually the company. It can be fun with the right people.”

“That horse-faced brat’s not graceful enough to be a dancer.”

Levi turned to glare at Eren, who laughed at his jab. “True,” he conceded. “But you don’t need to be a good dancer to be a good dance partner. You just have to be there.” Eren raised a smug eyebrow at Levi.

The glare on Levi’s face remained fixed even as he turned away from Eren. It’s true. He didn’t really have a reason to be upset. You wanted to dance, and Levi didn’t, but Jean did. It was simple. It was just a dance, nothing more. And it wasn’t like Levi hadn’t seen you dance with Jean before. Friends dance together. Levi knew all this, but years of writing cliches reminded him that love (is that what this is?) is not rational.

Eren spoke again. “You could always cut in, you know?”

“They’re fine where they are.”

“Are you?”

As if things couldn’t get more annoying, Levi watched as Eren did just that. He sauntered up to you and offered his hand out, sneaking a smug glance over to Levi as he replaced Jean on the dance floor. Levi huffed at the brat’s audacity.

The song didn’t last too long after Eren cut in. Levi took it as a consolation prize from the universe. He watched as you spoke to Eren and gestured over to the bar. Eren nodded with a grin and followed you as you made your way toward him. The second you got close enough to spot him, he felt his chest tighten as he watched your eyes light up. “Levi!” He loved the way his name sounded in your voice. “You made it!”

Levi huffed, but he couldn’t stop his lips from quirking up at your excitement. “I told you I’d be here.” “So you did. You didn’t want to dance?” you asked with furrowed brows. His heart seemed to skip a beat. Did you want him to dance with you?

“Levi doesn’t dance,” Eren interjected with a laugh. Levi rolled his eyes and shot him a glare.

“It seemed like you already had a line of partners,” he attempted to correct. He didn’t miss the way Eren’s eyebrows raised with an amused smirk.

You waved your hand dismissively. “It was just Jean and Eren,” you rolled your eyes. He felt something like relief, suddenly, as if his previous worries dissipated. Did you have any idea how much power you held over him? 

It wasn’t really jealousy he felt—at least, not entirely. It was something harder to name, something deeper. Watching you with Jean, with Eren, felt like staring at a world he couldn’t quite step into. They were comfortable with you in a way he wasn’t. Where Jean was effortlessly charming and Eren was boldly confident, Levi was quiet, reserved. He wasn’t particularly outgoing, and he wasn’t good at being vulnerable.

But now that he’d had glimpses of what it could feel like—those fleeting moments when your smile was just for him, or when your laughter rang out at something he’d said—it was harder to ignore how much he wanted more. The realization was terrifying, heavier than admitting he had a crush on you. That was simple. He could like you from a distance and that was enough. But this… this quiet longing for something deeper, for the kind of familiarity you so easily shared with others… it felt out of his reach. 

“Oh yeah,” your voice cut through his thoughts. Your eyes lit up again as you turned to look at Eren. ”Eren was telling me about the band. I didn’t know you wrote most of the songs.”

Levi’s eyebrow raised as his gaze flickered to Eren. “I… write some. But so does Eren.” He wasn’t sure why he was downplaying his contribution to the band, but he felt his cheeks flush at the idea of you finding out he’d written two songs about you in the span of a little over a month.

“Please,” Eren rolled his eyes. “Not nearly as much as stone cold Mozart, over here.” The nickname earned a laugh from you, and Levi found that he didn’t really mind it.

“Mozart?” Levi scoffed. “I don’t think he’d make it through one of our band rehearsals.”

Eren groaned and grimaced at the mention of No Name’s rehearsals. “One time Levi had us rehearsing in Hange’s apartment for 6 hours because one chord felt off.”

“Six hours is an exaggeration,” Levi assured you as your jaw dropped in shock. “It was Hange really, who was dissatisfied with the chord. But we eventually got it right. Just had to tweak some things.”

Eren scoffed. “It paid off,” he gestured over to Levi, who took another sip of his drink. “All thanks to Levi. You wouldn’t believe how serious he gets when we’re working on a song.”

Levi shrugged. “That’s because someone has to take it seriously.” He sighed internally. This wasn’t helping his case. 

“Well, lucky you’re here,” you said with a grin, your tone softening just slightly. Levi felt something like warmth in the way you said it, and for a moment, the sounds of the party began to quiet. He mirrored your grin with a soft smile of his own and only managed to tear his eyes from you when he heard Eren clear his throat.

“I think Mikasa and Armin are looking for me, so I’ll let you two talk” he smirked as he tipped his glass to the two of them before walking away. The two of you watched him walk away to where his girlfriend and friend and Jean were. Jean raised a thumb up to him and when Eren mirrored it, Jean clapped him on the back. A wave of silence washed between the two of you.

Levi listened as the beginnings of a new song, the Christmas Waltz, filled the silence. “Sitting this one out?” he nodded towards the dance floor where couples were beginning to form. Jean and Connie, Eren and Mikasa, and Armin and Annie.

“I think I’m fine here for now.” His heart did a flip. A part of him knew that you wanted to be out there. You looked like you were having so much fun on the dance floor with your friends. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep you all to himself all night – well he did, kind of. But not if it meant you were giving something up just to appease him. You made it seem so easy, to meet him in his comfort zone and he wished he could do the same for you. But Eren was right. So he chose to take a step too. To meet you in the middle. His gaze fell back on you gently and before he could overthink it, his hand stretched out to you.

“Come on,” he said simply, his voice steady but lower than it was before.

Your brows lifted in surprise, but a smile quickly found its way to your features. “I thought you didn’t dance, Ackerman.”

“I don’t,” he admitted, still waiting for you to slip your hand in his. “But I will with you.”

You stared at him for a second longer, your eyes searching his before you tugged your bottom lip into your teeth and slipped your hand into his. “Well how can I say no to that?”

The warmth of your hand in his sent a jolt through him, and he couldn’t suppress the smile on his face as he led you to the dance floor. He found a space for the two of you and felt his cheeks blush as you dropped his hands to rest them on his shoulders. His hands found your waist and he fought his anxiety and forced himself to relax. He allowed his senses to fill themselves with nothing but you, and the soft waltz playing in the background.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” you noted, your voice soft.

Levi’s lips twitched into a small smile. “I have a good partner.”

He let silence sit between you for a moment. His movements were simple and he kept his hands on your waist steady, but loose enough to let you lead him around the dance floor with ease. You were right, it wasn’t so bad. He followed your lead with just a bit more grace than a newborn deer, but it wasn’t bad at all. Even if his steps were clumsy, there was something about you that invited the messiness, the chaos, that he tries so hard to sweep away. You were here, inches away from him, and he wondered if your heart was beating as fast as his. 

“For someone who doesn’t dance, you’re not bad at all,” you complimented him with a smile.

Levi felt his eyebrows raise in amusement. “Your bar is too low,” he scoffed. “I just haven’t stepped on your feet yet.” He looked down at his own feet, making sure to avoid yours. He hoped you couldn’t tell how hard he was trying to not look clumsy. It wasn’t until he heard your voice again that he finally looked up.

“Hey,” you prodded. “Don’t overthink it.” You smiled at him softly and Levi let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He nodded simply and tried again to focus on you.

“You’re…” he paused and took another breath before continuing. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“I am,” you replied quietly with a small smile. If Levi was any further from you, it would have been lost in the swells of jazz behind you. “Thanks to you.”

Before he could speak again, you leaned in slightly, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. “You know, I didn’t think you’d actually say yes to dancing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

You shrugged, your smile turning playful. “You seem more like the ‘watch and judge’ type.”

“Maybe I am,” he admitted, his voice steady but softer than usual. “But sometimes it’s better to… try.”

Your grin widened, and you slid a hand down to take one of his from your waist. His own eyes widened as you raised your now entwined hands above your head and twirled away from him. He let out a quiet huff of surprise, his other hand coming to rest back on your waist to steady you as you came back to him.

“There,” you said, laughing. “Now you’re an official dancer.”

Levi shook his head, but he couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at his lips. “If you say so.”

As the song began to wind down, the two of you slowed your movements, but neither of you made a move to let go. For the first time that night, Levi felt the tension in his chest ease, replaced by a warmth that was equal parts comforting and terrifying.

“Thanks for this,” you said softly, your gaze meeting his. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

He hesitated, his voice catching slightly. “Me too.”

The words hung in the air between you, carrying more weight than either of you acknowledged. The room around you seemed to fade entirely, leaving just the two of you in the moment.

“Do you want to stay for another dance?” you asked, your voice light but hopeful.

Levi glanced toward the bar where Eren and Jean were watching, both pretending to mind their own business but clearly invested. With a soft huff, he looked back at you, his gaze steady.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think I do.”

How do you do it?  he wondered. You make it so easy to invite him into things he’d never had interest in doing before, things he’d find himself doing were it not for you. In the span of only a few months his heart had grown a soft spot in the shape of your hand in his, a feeling that he’d keep chasing far into the unknown no matter how it scared him.

He wasn’t sure how much time actually passed when the band finally announced their final song, but he noticed a slight ache in the balls of his feet that wasn’t there earlier. He let you lead him back towards the bar for one final drink. He wasn’t thirsty, not really. He was much too focused on the way you kept his hand in yours all the way to the bar or the way you let his slip out of yours slowly rather than all at once.

“Are you heading out soon?” He finally managed to tear his attention away from you and towards the doors where your friends were gathering their things. You turned your head towards them as well.

“I think so,” you hesitated, your gaze meeting his. “You?”

“Soon,” he shrugged.

For just a moment, the two of you let the silence linger – something warm and not awkward. Suddenly, your eyes lit up as if just remembering something.

“There’s a holiday market opening near campus tomorrow,” you began to explain. “It’s supposed to be really nice, and I was thinking of checking it out.”

“You’re going alone?” Levi raised an eyebrow. He found himself asking before he could even think the question.

You shrugged, but smiled at him playfully. “I was,” you began, drawing out the last syllable. “But then I remembered I have a psych partner who’s obligated to spend time with me.”

Levi scoffed at the challenging tone of your voice. Right, the psych project that he’d almost completely forgotten about… that was due at the beginning of next week. “What time?”

You grinned and the warmth in your expression was enough to relax him. “I was thinking around 3? Since the sun seems to go down around 5.”

“I’ll see you at 3,” he said simply, not resisting the smile that crept onto his face as you nodded back.

As you turned to finally leave, you hesitated for just a beat before turning to wrap him in a quick hug. Long enough to feel you linger even after you’d let go, but gone too fast for him to be able to return it. “Goodnight, Levi.”

“Goodnight,” he replied as he watched you disappear into the crowd.

He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Did you know you had him wrapped around your finger?

The next afternoon, the air was crisp and the streets were lined with shoveled snow that muffled the usual hustle and bustle of the city. The sun bounced off the mounds of white and Levi squinted at the glare. He adjusted his scarf as he approached the entrance to the market. The scent of the winter – of warm baked goods and pine – wafted through the air and mixed with the sound of commercial holiday pop songs. He took a deep breath before pulling out his phone.

2:45. He was early. He hoped he didn’t come off as too eager, but if you asked… he’d tell you he likes to be punctual. Which was true, but it didn’t matter to him nearly as much in this situation. He huffed out a breath, watching his breath form into a cloud in front of him. 

Thankfully, he didn’t wait long. At 2:53, he spotted you weaving through a crowd of people. When your eyes met his, a smile formed on your face and Levi couldn’t help but feel much warmer than he was before. He smiled back at you as he took in your rosy cheeks, flushed with cold. 

“Levi,” you called out as you finally approached him. “You’re already here!”

“You said 3,” he replied simply. His tone was even, but he felt his heart skip at how excited you were to see him.

You shrugged with a smug smile. “It’s 2:55.” 

“It’s 2:55,” he echoed as his eyebrow raised in amusement. Guess you were both eager. Levi scoffed as he shook his head to hide the blush that was definitely evident on his cheeks. He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked up to see you nodding towards the market. He followed your lead.

The inside of the market was any child’s holiday fantasy. There were human-sized gingerbread houses with giant-sized gift boxes and plastic candy canes lined around them. The trees were strung with lights that Levi was sure would look warm once the sun set. 

“You come to these places often?” Levi asked as he continued to look around the crowded center. If there were less people, he probably would feel much more of the holiday spirit. With one glance over at your giddy face, however, Levi realized the amassed crowd was not a deterrent for you.

You nodded with a grin as you eyed the various stalls, searching for something. “I started coming here after my first semester,” you explained. “Armin had suggested it as a way to get over post-finals depression, and it’s become somewhat of a tradition since then.”

Levi hummed as you spoke. “I think it would be nicer if there were fewer people,” he confessed.

He looked over to you as you chuckled. “Somehow I think you say that often,” you mused. Levi scoffed out a laugh in confirmation. “Ah– there it is.” He looked over to where you were pointing at a rustic looking wooden stand, strung with garlands and ornaments. There was an off center blackboard sign with the words “HOT COCOA” handwritten in red and white chalk marker.

“Two Mexican hot chocolates, please,” you announced to the worker who was dressed in an elf costume and smiling brightly. Before you had even reached for your wallet, Levi had beat you to the punch and placed his card in the machine. You looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

Levi blushed in response and turned away. “You uh, you paid last time.” He was well aware that it had been over a week since the last time you were at the cafe with him, and he was the one who bought the last round of tea, but knowing you… it meant he’d see you again so you could treat him to something else.

“Your two cocoas,” the cashier announced and handed over two to-go cups to you and Levi.

“Now we can look around,” you announced as you took a sip of the cocoa and sighed. The two of you were in front of a shop filled with artisan tree ornaments, but instead of walking in, you paused and turned to him. “Have you tried it yet?”

He was skeptical of the warm beverage in his hands, honestly. He wasn’t big on sugary beverages, much less on those served to him at a place marketed to young children excited for a holiday sugar rush. He looked to see your reaction before taking a sip of his.

As if noticing his apprehension, you let out a chuckle. “Try it,” you pushed. “I promise it’s probably not what you’re expecting.” 

Now he was facing a losing battle to his own curiosity. He cautiously took a small sip and immediately understood what you meant. He was expecting something sugary and artificial, but this tasted like it took hours to make. It was sweet, but not saccharine, with a hint of cinnamon and… wait, is it spicy?

Levi must have made a face, because you chuckled as you took another sip. “Good right?”

It honestly was. He took another sip and nodded back to you. “Ready to head in?”

The inside of the ornament shop was just as whimsical as Levi expected. The shelves were lined with glass ornaments of various shapes and colors. It was clear that most, if not all of the ornaments were handmade. Levi reached a hand out as he walked through the small, cramped store, letting his fingers trace over some of the glass baubles.

He turned to you with a soft smile. “These are really nice, huh?” He asked as he held up a clear ornament with a snowman and some styrofoam turned snow, like a mini snow globe. He shook it gently to watch the snow gently fall around the smiling snowman.

“Yeah,” Levi watched your eyes crinkle as you returned his smile. You picked up another ornament, this one like hand blown glass, a swirl of reds and greens. “I think these ones are really nice…” You continued to talk about your opinion on holiday colors but Levi found himself distracted by a blur of frenzied movement in one corner of the store where Jean and Eren were undoubtedly trying to remain inconspicuous. He let his gaze shift slightly in their direction and he watched as they quickly turned around. Ah, he realized, they’re following us. Levi was impressed by how badly they were failing at this.

Idiots, he thought, though the word carried less bite than usual. Whatever reason they had for not wanting to be seen, Levi didn’t really care. They weren’t planning anything dubious. He knew that much. Eren and Jean were nosy, sure, but there was a kind of clumsy earnestness to their antics that Levi couldn’t entirely begrudge.

Levi turned his attention back to you. “... and that’s the brief history of the art of glass blowing.” You finished and he gave you a sheepish smile. He’ll have to google for himself later whatever you just told him about. You turned to him with a smile. “Anything catch your eye?”

“Not quite yet,” Levi mused. “But we haven’t seen it all.” He continued to push through the crowd further into the store, resting a gentle hand on your back to guide you along with him. He thought back to the night of that party when he held your wrist in his, the buzz that felt electric at the time. This felt like something else entirely, like he’d come to step into something new, something warm and something soft. 

He watched as you paused in front of one of the ornaments, another snow globe style ornament. This one had stars mixed in with the snow and in the center of it, a couple. You picked it up in your hands with a smile.

“What do you think about this one?” you asked him softly. The soft smile that spread across your features and the twinkle in your eye made Levi feel that he liked it a lot.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. He hadn’t even really looked at the snow globe, honestly.

A thud behind him interrupted his thoughts, and before he could turn at all, he heard Eren’s voice. “You idiot, they’ll see us.” Levi let himself scoff under his breath. Maybe they’ll fall and knock each other out, Levi thought in amusement. 

“A gift for us,” your voice brought Levi’s attention back. He watched as you grabbed two of the ornaments and held them gently in your hand by the strings, careful not to let them fall. His heart skipped a beat when you smiled at him, holding them up by your face with pride, as if you’d discovered a new treasure.

Whatever Jean and Eren were trying to accomplish, Levi decided, wasn’t worth the effort of confrontation. Let them stumble around in the background. This– your quiet smiles, your babbled history about the history of something something, the way your voice cut through all the noise– was what mattered.

Unfortunately for him for the rest of the evening, Levi realized that he wasn’t going to be able to shake the pair of idiots tailing the two of you. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed them.

At a shop selling knitwear, they were there, strangling wrapping each other with various scarves.

At the stand selling snacks, they were there, three people behind Levi in line, arguing about whether to split a cinnamon pretzel or a cup of roasted chestnuts.

At the photo set with Santa, he heard their obnoxious laughter and whispers, “Do you think he’ll tell her while he sits on Santa’s lap? Do you think they’ll mistake him for an elf?”

Finally, Levi had had enough. After the elves guided you out of the set and handed you a card to pick up your picture, you left Levi alone at a quieter section of the market  as you went to the restroom. Once you were out of earshot, he let out a loud sigh.

“Come out, idiots one and two,” he called out with a grimace.

Obediently, Jean and Eren left their spot from behind a tree and walked sheepishly to Levi who had his arms crossed, like an annoyed father, catching his kids sneaking back into the house after curfew. Jean ran a hand across the back of his neck and Eren fidgeted with the ponytail holder that sat on his wrist.

“Listen–”

“It was Eren’s idea–” 

Levi raised a hand up, cutting them off. “You two suck at this,” he sighed. “Care to explain why I’ve earned a pair of dumbass shadows?”

Jean rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Levi’s piercing gaze. “We were just, uh, keeping an eye on things. You know, in case you needed backup.”

Levi’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of an amused smile breaking through his otherwise impassive expression. “Backup? From what? A rogue snowman?”

Eren grinned, clearly amused by the jab. “Hey, you never know. Markets can be dangerous places.”

Jean elbowed him in the ribs, shooting him a glare. “Shut up, Jaeger. You’re not helping.”

Levi shook his head, a quiet sigh escaping him. “You’re both idiots. If you’re going to follow someone, at least try not to get caught. This is pathetic and you still haven’t told me why.” His face formed into a stern glare. “You’ve got  a few minutes before I stop feeling so generous.”

“This is you being generous?” Eren grumbled, earning another glare from Jean.

“Okay, we… we’ve been trying to see if you… like… if you have feelings for…” Jean trailed off, folding under Levi’s raised eyebrow and unimpressed stare.

“Right… so following us around was the best way to do this?” He remembered that night at the gala too, when Eren seemed to be egging him on, and that day at the cafe where they were muttering nonsense. “You guys have been at this for a while.”

“It was Eren’s idea?” Jean offered with a sheepish smile.

“What? No it wasn’t,” Eren shot back. “For the record, Levi, I was the only one against this idea. I even said you don’t have feelings for them.” He crossed his arms in defense.

Levi’s glare silenced them both, but he felt the edge in his mood soften. A few months ago, he probably would have snapped at Eren and Jean for so blatantly invading his space. He would have murmured a line about not needing their help. 

But since that night at the gala, he’d started to see what you saw in them– their relentless loyalty, their ridiculous but genuine attempts to look out for you. It was messy, sure, but it was also… comforting. He didn’t need to force himself into this bubble of yours. You were already inviting him in.

“I do,” he replied simply, taking a metaphorical first step. As expected, Jean and Eren’s eyes went wide. 

“I freaking told you,” Jean told Eren smugly. 

“Shut up,” Eren shoved Jean before turning back to Levi. “Wait– you’re serious?”

 Levi held his hand up again. “I… need your help,” he muttered, quieter now.

“Our help?” Eren echoed as Levi shot him a glare.

“Yeah.” Levi looked away, the flush creeping up his neck betraying his calm tone. “I want to tell them. How I feel.”

Jean blinked. “You… want our help to confess? Like, us?”

Levi’s glare returned, though it lacked its usual sharpness. “Yes. You two idiots clearly can’t keep a secret, and the last thing I need is for them to hear about this from someone else.”

These two idiots, as clumsy as they may be, cared about you. And judging by their terrible, terrible attempts to sneak around today and their readiness to fess up under any minute pressure, Levi did not trust them to hold a secret from you. He paused, his shoulders stiffening slightly as he pushed the words out. “Besides… You’re their friends. You know how to do this kind of thing.”

Eren stared, momentarily stunned. “You’re serious about this.”

Levi nodded, his jaw tightening. He pressed a palm to his forehead. “If I wasn’t, do you think I’d be asking you two for help?”

Jean grinned suddenly, his confidence restored. “Don’t worry, Levi. We’ve got your back.”

Eren smirked, leaning slightly toward Levi. “This is gonna be fun.”

Levi sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is going to be… interesting.”

That night, Levi found himself on the phone with Hange. He sat on his bed with his guitar in his lap and his phone resting on the bed, Hange’s voice cutting through the otherwise silence of his room. His lyrics notebook was in front of him, propped up against a pillow. He had just finished catching them up on the events of the day, including Eren and Jean’s ideas for how to confess.

“Oh Levi,” Hange squealed. “I knew you had Hallmark-holiday-movie love interest potential.” 

He let out a quiet sigh, but a smile crept on his face despite himself. “Do you want to hear the song or not, four-eyes?” 

“Duh,” Hange replied. “Go and sing, music man.”

Levi scoffed and cleared his throat, strumming against his guitar gently and beginning the song. He felt almost… giddy, as his fingers strummed the last chord and he sat quietly, waiting for Hange’s reply.

“That was great,” they sighed. “Makes me wish I was in love.”

“Hange you’re in love with a new person every week,” Levi chuckled.

“Yeah, but classes are almost over,” they replied casually. “No more longing stares across the classroom with the blue haired sorority girl in my o-chem class.”

“Glad she’s finally safe from your wild eyes,” Levi huffed. “Anyway, back to the song.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hange continued. “It’s good. It’s honest and I think it’s obvious. But… can I tell you something else?” They asked, their voice softening. Levi’s silence gave them room to continue speaking. “Don’t get too in your head about this, but you’ve changed a lot in the last few months. Not in a bad way, but just… it’s nice to see you like this.”

Levi nodded, even though they wouldn’t be able to see. “Yeah, I see it too. I feel different.”

“I’ve known you for a long time, Levi. I’ve always had a friend in you… I’m glad you’re letting us be your friends now.” Hange cleared their throat before continuing. “You let me know if you want the band playing with you, and I will ditch my lab report and thesis for you.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “That won’t be necessary,” he assured them. “I think I can do this on my own. But thanks for reminding me I don’t have to.”

“Make sure Eren gets a video,” Hange called as they muttered a final goodbye.

The next night, Levi felt his heart in his throat and a slick sheen of sweat on his palms. Maybe he couldn’t do this alone. No, Levi shook his head, then shook his hands. You’re literally a performer, you do this every other night, he reminded himself.

He looked around the cafe. It wasn’t very crowded tonight, but Levi didn’t really care. He was looking for you. Eren and Jean had promised to lure you to the cafe under the promise of free coffee. That was the first part of their plan, which involved Levi confessing his love for you after singing you a song at an open mic at the cafe. It was cheesier and much more public than Levi would have wanted, but they assured him that you would love a grand romantic gesture.

But he was on next, and he still couldn’t see you, and he felt as though he was about to hurl. He’d never experienced stage fright quite like this. What if Jean and Eren couldn’t convince you? What if they tried and you decided not to come? Oh god, what if–

Like a switch turning off in his brain, the jingle of a bell caught Levi’s attention and he found your eyes, and suddenly…things were quiet. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and he let himself smile as you waved at him. He watched as you muttered something to Eren before walking his way, and he felt his heart skip. He was sure he would go into cardiac arrest somehow with the way you seem to have a hold on his heart rate. 

“Levi,” you called his name as you approached. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Levi replied with a soft smile. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you told him. He watched your gaze fall to his guitar in his hands. “You’re playing?”

He nodded in reply. “I perform here sometimes when I want to test run a song.”

“You have a new song?” you asked him with a smile that made him want to kick everyone out so he could play it only for you.

“Yeah,” he answered. “It’s… I’m really proud of this one.”

“Well I can’t wait to hear it,” you assured him.

Before he could reply, he heard his name called by the emcee, and he turned his gaze to the stage. “I’ll find you after,” he promised and you waved him off with a nod.

From the stage, he could follow your figure as you found Jean and Eren again. The three of you sat at a table near the door. He smiled to himself as he watched Eren pull out his phone to record. He took a seat on the barstool at the center of the platform and tapped on the mic, setting his guitar in his lap. 

Any trace of nervousness he felt earlier was gone. He was in his element. Much like how it felt to sing at Erwin’s wedding, he felt as though everyone else seemed to disappear. This was just between him and you, his own version of a love letter. He wanted to laugh at how loud his thoughts seemed to feel earlier.

“Hey everyone,” he called into the microphone. He drew the stand closer to him and adjusted the height to sit right at his lips. “I’m Levi, and this is a new song I wrote about someone special to me.” He caught your eye across the room and let himself smile before taking a deep breath. His fingers, sure and steady, plucked against the strings.

His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the microphone, letting his lips graze the metal as he sang.

I hate to dance, but I'd dance with you 'Cause I'd do anything to feel your touch

He felt himself smile as he lead into the chorus, his hands strumming a bit louder.

It's what you do to me I'm wrapped around your finger and I can't stop You know I got a soft spot for you

He pulled away from the mic as he got ready for the next verse. He let his gaze move from the neck of his guitar and across to you. He bit back a grin as he watched your eyes sparkle in delight as you watched him. You had to know right? That this was all for you? That every song he’s ever written… it was leading to you?

Too late, don't wanna fall, baby, I just Don't need somebody else to throw me aside But I'm up all night, thinkin' 'bout how It could be you to change my heart, but I

Don't like anybody, tell me why it's different with you Don't believe in love, but no one makes me feel like you do

As the song came to a close, Levi pulled away from the microphone and nodded his head to the strums against his guitar. He felt the familiar rush of performing, the anticipation of applause, and his heart thudding in his ears like a metronome. He’d expected to feel exposed, but at the end of it all, he felt his chest was light, as if sharing this song with you was what he needed all along.

The next part of the plan was to declare his feelings from right here on the stage. But as he caught your eye once more… “Thanks for listening.” was all he said.

The room was still buzzing as he walked off the stage. The emcee was moving on to the next act and the audience turned their attention away from him, but Levi was still only thinking about you. He made his way towards your table with his guitar in his hands and his heart pounding in his ears. 

You were sitting at the table he’d spotted you earlier, but Jean and Eren were nowhere to be found. He was going off script now. He watched your eyes light up with a familiar gleam as he approached. His footsteps slowed to a stop as he arrived, less than a foot from where you sat, a now empty mug of tea in your hand. His breath hitched as he hesitated, not sure how to bridge the silence that sat between the two of you like a sea of half formed thoughts and things waiting to be said.

He found his fingers fidgeting over his guitar strings, thankful when you took the first step over the metaphorical bridge. “Levi,” you breathed his name out and he felt like melting. “That was…” He’d never allowed himself to be this vulnerable before, but he wasn’t really… scared. “That was beautiful,” you finished.

A smile formed on his lips. He didn’t even know his cheeks could raise that high. “Thanks,” he shook his head sheepishly. “I’m… glad you liked it.”

“Was it… really for me?” you asked softly. Your gaze fixed on Levi with an expression he couldn’t quite name.

He swallowed. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “It was.”

Your lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across your face before your expression softened into something warmer, something brighter. “Levi…”

He watched as you tentatively reached out your hand, crossing the distance between the two of you. His own hand came to meet yours halfway, intertwining your fingers, the bridge crossed. 

He took a deep breath as he steadied himself, rubbing circles against your skin as he took a step closer. “I’m not good with words,” he began, letting his gaze drop to your joined hands. “But I needed you to know. You’re important to me. And I care about you, more than I know how to explain.”

The words hung in the air between the two of you as he waited for your response. Each second felt like it went on for minutes and he was worried he didn’t say enough. But then… but then you smiled. Not just a polite smile, or even a joking one that he’d seen before, but something deeper… something just for him.

“I care about you too,” you said softly, and Levi could feel the earnestness in your voice.

Levi felt himself breathe again, like his whole body suddenly remembered how to exist, how to live. He smiled softly at you.

The chattering crowd around the two of you seemed to fade away to the sound of music as he stood there with your hand safe in his as the two of you smiled at each other like idiots. Something had changed, and the air was electric with the warm promise of a new beginning.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Neither of you needed to. The silence no longer felt like a chasm, but rather a warm blanket that covered the both of you in a comfortable embrace.

Finally, a soft laugh escaped your lips as you spoke. “Do you want to get out of here?” you asked, your voice just barely a whisper over the sound of music.

Levi nodded, giving your hand a squeeze. “Yeah,” he replied softly. “I do.”

As the two of you made your way outside, the sharp cold of a December night was a striking contrast to the warmth that lingered between the two of you. His gaze was fixed on you and how you glowed like something ethereal under the lights. Maybe he could come to like the holidays, if it meant he’d see you under the glow of warm string lights. You’d already changed him so much, what’s one more?

He didn’t even notice the snow beginning to fall, the first of the season, until he watched a flake land on your eyelashes. He didn’t notice there was music over the speakers until you laughed. He didn’t notice how cold it was until you reached your gloved hands to tighten his scarf.

And for the first time in a long time, Levi felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

A/N: It's the end!! For those who have made it here, consider this me giving you a big kiss on the forehead. I haven't written in a while, so this story felt like coming home for me. I have absolutely loved writing for Levi, and I think I might continue to do so. If you have any song suggestions, do let me know, and I'll see if I can write it into this universe. But I do have a loose, LOOSE idea for an epilogue based on the song "Songs in my Head."

Also, as it's currently december, I'd like to wish all of you a happy holiday! It's crazy right now, so take this time to have a warm beverage, grab a blanket, and read something cozy.

And per usual, a fun fact: Levi and reader made a 83 on their psych project. Their professor said... "Good first impressions, strong writing skills, but no theories listed. Have the two of you considered writing a holiday rom-com?" (no theories listed is my fault. I didn't even wanna come back to writing the project. Didn't wanna give anyone finals induced trauma at this time of year.)

[rollingsins]

all hers, epilogue

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Tara and YN try their hand at some healthier habits.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of violence. Smut.

word count: 5.3k

a/n: it's been a wild ride. thanks for all who have come along. all hers is over, but I will still be writing gf!tara drabbles in the same universe - maybe some college oneshots in the drabble files. Until then: enjoy the final chapter! :)) 

As the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months, slowly, the pain subsides.

Your normal? It’s potentially forever gone. It shouldn’t be a surprise, at this point.

Once you’d just been a teenage girl, crazily in love with another girl.

Who turned out to be a serial killer. Who’d somehow turned you into a killer.

Who’d made you cry, and laugh and love harder than you’d ever loved in your entire life.

In the grand scheme of things - the scar on your belly is probably the least of your worries.

But that doesn’t stop you toiling on it.

It always seems to be the way, doesn’t it? Worrying about the things that don’t really matter.

You worry nonetheless.

“It’s pretty,” Tara murmurs in comfort when you’re staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror, shirt lifted slightly, eyebrows pinched in dismay.

It’s not pretty.

It’s wiry and long and stems from the tip of your bellybutton down to your navel.

“It’s hideous.” You say, voice a little fraught.

It’s hideous and permanent.

You’ll never be able to wear a bikini again. You’ll never be able to take your shirt off again without being reminded of it.

Of her.

The woman who had tormented you for weeks.

The woman who you’d tormented for weeks. The woman whose son you’d taken from her. The woman who’d repaid you in mental scars to last a lifetime.

A belly scar to last a lifetime.

“It’s beautiful,” Tara says, pressing her lips to your shoulder, “It means you’re alive.”

She squeezes your hips, then lifts her own shirt.

“And it matches mine,” She says, eyes shimmering, “Matching knife wounds. Like soulmates.”

You snort.

Because of course Tara tries to make stab wounds romantic.

But to her credit - it works.

Your heart sings.

Soulmates.

Because that’s what you are.

“Who needs a wedding ring, right?” You say, biting your lip, insecurities suddenly fading.

Tara entwines your hands, lifts the back of your hand to her lips.

“You do,” Tara says, “And you’ll have one. Soon. I promise.”

You pull back.

“Not before-“

“College,” Tara says, rolling her eyes, “I know, babe.”

You press a lingering kiss to her cheek.

“I just don’t want to be one of those couples who rush into marriage and fall apart the moment they turn twenty-one.”

“That won’t be us,” Tara whines, and then she pouts, “Plenty of high school sweethearts get married right after high school.”

You groan.

“Tara, we talked about this already-“

“I know,” Tara says, voice hasty, “I’m just excited. I want you to be Mrs. Carpenter already.”

“Mrs Carpenter, huh?” You say, ignoring the fluttery rush that blooms through you at the thought, “And what if I want you to take my name?”

Tara cocks a brow and considers this.

“I don’t care, babe, I’ll change my name to garden gnome if you want, as long as I get to be your wife.” She says after a moment.

You smile. Squeeze her hand.

“You’d suit it,” You tease, “But Mrs and Mrs Carpenter has a nice ring to it.”

Tara tilts her head hopefully.

“So, maybe a high school wedding?” She asks, voice sly, “Mrs Carpenter would look good on your college application forms.”

You press a warm kiss to her lips.

“There’s no rush, babe,” You tell her, “And I need to save up. Get you a pretty ring.”

Tara squints.

“I’m proposing first,” She says immediately, “You promised, babe.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yes, you baby, I know.”

Tara tilts her head, seemingly satisfied.

You press a kiss to her lips. She’s cured your insecurity, for now.

But a new feeling gnaws at the bottom of your stomach.

Dread.

As you realize what comes next. You try to keep your voice light. Lighter than the heavy pit at the bottom of your stomach.

“Come on,” You say, trying and failing not to sound anxious, “It’s time for therapy.”

-

Dr Colmann is a five foot woman with long, flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

Her office is bland. Gray walls. Little decoration.

Like she wants your attention on her.

You’d met her first, a few weeks ago. Like a pterodactyl scouting out a potential nest for her baby.

Your situation is tricky - there’s only so much you can tell her.

And you’re no doctor - but even you know surely it’s impossible to diagnose an illness without knowing all the symptoms.

“I want to get something out of the way,” You’d said after a long moment, clearing your throat.

Dr Colmann had looked over at you, pen tilted and ready to write. With all the intimidation of a woman who was about to change your life.

“I’m aware my girlfriend is…” You had paused, trying to think of the right word, “A little… possessive.”

Dr Colmann said nothing.

“I know that, and that’s why we’re looking for help.” You’d bitten your lip, nervous, “And I’m also sure the first thing you’re going to tell me is to leave her. But that isn’t going to happen. I love her. And she loves me. We’re looking for coping methods. I want to help her feel secure. But I will not break up with her.”

Dr Colmann had just listened.

Her silence, if possible, made you all the more nervous.

“She’s not abusive or anything,” You’d clarified, hastily, “She doesn’t hurt me. She just gets… jealous.”

“And what does she do when she gets jealous?” She’d asked, finally breaking her silence.

“Um-“ You’d said, voice a little high. Memories flashed before you like nightmares and you’d been entirely grateful your thoughts couldn’t be seen.

“She lashes out. Not at me. At other people.”

Dr Colmann scribbled something in her notepad. Long, wiry, black inky marks.

You’d squinted, trying to make up the words, but she’d looked back at you before you’d had the chance.

“Do you have any examples?” Dr Colmann prompted.

You paused.

You had a fair few of those.

None of which you could disclose.

“Little things,” You said, “I used to play soccer. But I had to quit because Tara thought some of the girls might become interested in me.”

You chew your lip.

“And… I was just in the hospital. She got jealous of the nurse.”

“The nurse?”

“She tried to… give me a sponge bath and Tara freaked out.”

Dr Colman stared.

You swallowed. The words out loud somehow seemed even more ridiculous than they are.

“How did she freak out?” Dr Colmann asked.

“She tried to…” You swallowed again, “She didn’t want the nurse to touch me again. Not even to change my bandages.”

Dr Colmann pursed her lips.

“I told her that was stupid,” You’d said, hurriedly, “But when she gets like that, nothing can stop her. She calls it The Rage.”

Dr Colmann tilted her head.

“The Rage?”

You’d nodded.

“Yeah. It’s like… it’s like something takes over her. Like a demon or something. Something she can’t control.”

Dr Colmann had closed her notebook. She’d looked over at you, surveying. You’d blinked back, eyes wide, surely screaming help me, or something to that effect.

Then, she smiled.

“When can I meet her?”

-

You’re no less nervous the second time.

You greet Dr Colmann with a tight smile, draw Tara down into the seat next to you. Your knee bobs up and down, unable to quell the tide of anxiety rising deep within you.

Please, you think, a little desperate, please help her.

As Tara and Dr Colmann exchange pleasantries, you blink. Too many times.

Like you don’t know how this is going to go. The worst case scenario flashes before you: Dr Colmann in a body bag.

Tara in a jail cell.

You in a jail cell.

Never able to touch her, or hold her, or kiss her ever again.

You need therapy, the little voice in your head leers, judgmental, not being with Tara is worse than a woman dying?

“So, Tara,” Dr Colmann says, when you’re all seated. With all the cheeriness of someone who isn’t aware you’re imagining her as a corpse.

“Tell me about The Rage.”

An awkward silence settles over the three of you.

Tara shoots a hesitant look towards you.

You squeeze her hand and nod.

Then, she looks over to Dr Colmann.

“It’s an anger thing,” Tara mumbles, not looking her in the eye, “I’ve seen shrinks before, none of them can fix it.”

Dr Colmann tilts her head.

“And what did these other doctors do?” She asks, “Anger management classes? Medication?”

“Both,” Tara says, “Nothing ever worked.”

Dr Colmann hums.

“I’ve read through your file, Tara,” She says gently, “Fourteen different therapists across the state. That’s a lot of doctors. Especially for such a young girl.”

Tara assesses her. Her face is tight, guarded. Like she’s not sure if she can quite trust her.

Dr Colmann scribbles something in her notepad.

“Lots of kids have problems with anger,” Says Dr Colmann, “But anger is just a symptom, like any other emotion. From what YN has told me, anger isn’t the problem. Sharing is the problem.”

Tara frowns.

“Plenty of children have issues with sharing,” Dr Colmann continues, “Usually, it’s the parents who stamp it out. But not always. I see in your file your sister used to bear the brunt of most of these anger issues.”

Tara folds her arms.

“Not always,” She says.

“But most of the time,” Says Dr Colmann, pointedly. She squints, reading through her notes, “It says here you attacked your sister when you were four years old because she tried to play with one of your Barbie dolls. Then again, later that week for taking a bigger slice of pie.”

“Four year olds are allowed to have boundaries, aren’t they?” Says Tara, defensively, “That Barbie was mine.”

“And YN? She’s yours too?” Asks Dr Colmann, evenly.

Tara blinks.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tara says, diplomatically. The question is a trap, one she’s determined to avoid.

Dr Colmann tilts her head.

“And you don’t like when other people play with her? Is that right?”

Anger flickers through Tara’s features. You bite your lip, and squeeze her hand. Try to keep her grounded.

“I suppose not.” Says Tara, voice tight.

“YN told me about the nurse,” Dr Colmann says, “And the soccer team. You made her quit? Why?”

Tara looks over to you, a little helpless.

“I didn’t make her quit,” She says, slowly, like she’s being very careful with her words, “I just… suggested it. Strongly.”

Dr Colmann makes a noise of dissatisfaction.

Then returns to madly scribbling on her notepad.

Tara frowns again, looking self-conscious.

Dr Colmann looks up.

“And what if someone on the soccer team had been interested?” Dr Colmann asks, “What would you have done?”

You avert your gaze.

Kill them, is the answer.

It’s already happened.

More than once.

Tara shifts.

“I wouldn’t like it.” Tara says.

“No reasonable person would like that, Tara,” Dr Colmann prods, gently, “But what would you do?”

“I don’t know,” Says Tara, sounding aggravated, “Not let her see them anymore.”

“And do you think that’s an appropriate request?” Dr Colmann asks, “Do you really think you should have control over who your girlfriend associates with?”

Tara narrows her eyes.

“YN would do it for me,” She says, “We’re in a relationship. Relationships are about compromise.”

“That isn’t compromise, Tara,” Dr Colmann says, gently, “That’s you demanding she do something and her complying. Do you not trust her?”

Tara blinks.

She looks over to you, then back to Dr Colmann.

“Of course I do,” She says, voice soft, “It’s other people I don’t trust.”

“And what do you think these other people are going to do?” Dr Colmann asks.

“I don’t know.” Tara says, voice small, as if she’s never really thought that far ahead.

She looks like a little lost puppy. You want to wrap her in your arms and tell her you’ll never talk to anybody else again if that’s what she wants.

You resist.

Healthy wife, happy life, is what you tell yourself instead.

Dr Colmann’s face washes with sympathy.

“Jealousy is pointless, Tara,” Dr Colmann says, voice gentle, “Worrying is pointless. If YN is going to cheat on you, she’ll cheat on you. If she’s going to leave you, she’ll leave you. There’s nothing you - or The Rage can do about it.”

Tara blinks.

“I-“ She says, as if Dr Colmann has just spit in her face “What?”

Dr Colmann sits forward in her seat. Her notebook discarded.

“What you need to do - is trust. Your girlfriend loves you. Clearly. She wouldn’t be here with you if she didn’t.”

Tara frowns.

“You’re afraid of losing her,” Dr Colman says, eyebrows knit, as if Tara is a particularly difficult puzzle she can’t quite get her head around, “But why? We’ve already established she loves you. She wouldn’t be here with you if she didn’t.”

Tara blinks. You soothe a finger across the back of her hand. Resist the urge to press a kiss to her pretty forehead.

You let the doctor do the work.

“Have other people you loved left you, Tara?” Dr Colmann prods, gently.

Tara’s shoulders tense.

Dr Colmann waits a moment.

“Who?” She asks, "Your Mom? Your Dad?”

“Both.” Tara says, voice small, “They both left me.”

Your heart aches.

If you could - you’d sucker punch the two of them right now.

It isn’t an option. Instead - you grip her hand tight, offer her a small smile of encouragement as she speaks.

Tara swallows.

“My Dad tried to fix me,” Tara says, “For years. I was an angry kid. They could never figure out what was wrong with me. Eventually he just… gave up. He walked out on me and My Mom and my sister. Left us, just like that.”

“That must have been very traumatic,” Says Dr Colmann, “How old were you?”

“Thirteen.” Says Tara, “My Mom never left. I mean, she did. She threw herself into work to cope with my Dad leaving. She started going on these long business trips. But she never officially left.”

Dr Colmann offers her a small smile, “And that’s why you get so jealous, is it Tara? You’re afraid YN will leave you? Like your Mom? Like your Dad?”

Tara hesitates.

She looks down at her hands.

“Yes.” She says, after a long moment.

“Baby,” You say, voice hushed. Tara squeezes your fingers.

Dr Colmann hums.

“That makes a lot of sense, Tara,” She says, her voice kind, “That gives us something to work with.”

She closes her notepad, offers the two of you a reassuring smile.

“Your anger - we can work through that. We can figure out some coping methods. But the main problem here isn’t anger, Tara. It’s trust. I know you said you trust YN but you’re still scared. Deep down you’re scared she’ll abandon you, just like your parents did. We need to work through that.”

“Is it something we can fix?” You ask, a tad desperate.

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d promised Tara you’d never leave her.

And each time it seemed to fall on deaf ears the moment The Rage was invoked.

“We can try,” Dr Colmann says, “I can try. And it’ll take some hard work. But Tara, it’ll only work if you’re open to it. If you’re open to changing. Is that something you can do?”

Tara thinks for a moment.

And then she nods.

“Yeah,” She says, “I want to do it. I want to be different. For you, babe,”

She squeezes your hand. Thinks hard.

“And for me too."

-

You’re silent the entire way home.

Tara too.

She grips your hand so hard you think it might fall off at one point. It’s only when she pulls into the driveway, she speaks.

“I didn’t scare you off, did I?” She asks, chewing her lip as she looks over at you, “With all my… problems.”

“Never, baby,” You say immediately.

You lean over to kiss her cheek. She relaxes.

“I’m going to need a lot of therapy, aren’t I?” She says, sounding worried.

You press another warm kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll be with you the whole way,” You assure, “I'm not going anywhere, Tara.”

You hesitate.

“You know I’m not like your Dad, right?” You say, “Or your Mom. I’m not going to leave you.”

Tara offers you a small smile.

“I know, babe,” She says, “At least in theory, I know.”

You press a kiss to her lips.

“I guess I’ll just have to remind you then,” you say, “Everyday. I love you. You’re stuck with me. I’ll say it until you believe me in theory and in practice.”

Tara rests her forehead against yours.

“Okay,” She says, “And keep saying it after that, okay babe?”

You kiss her.

“Deal.”

-

Your Mom’s still in the hospital.

Her leg had been amputated after the attack, and the procedure hadn’t been easy on her or your Dad. She’d come home after two weeks and then been admitted once more when the wound became infected.

“Are you feeling okay?” You ask her now, chewing your lip, phone pressed to your ear.

Tara finishes up the dishes, setting down the washcloth to nestle in beside you, squeezing your hip comfortingly.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” She says, “Will you come and visit tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there,” You promise, “Sam is going to pick us up after school.”

“And everything’s alright at the house?” Enquires your Mom.

You were staying at Tara’s place until your parents came back home, a decision that was quickly agreed on, for once.

“Everything’s fine, Mom,” You assure, “Sam’s working now, but she’ll be home in a couple of hours.”

Your Mom hums.

“And Tara’s there with you, isn’t she?” She asks, sounding a little worried, “You’re not alone?”

“Tara’s here,” You say and Tara kisses the back of your neck, “You don’t have to worry, Mom.”

“Is that Tara?” Asks your Dad through the phone, a little gruff, “Can I speak with her?’

“Dad wants to speak to Tara, YN, bye for now,” Says your Mom, “See you tomorrow.”

You barely get out the goodbye before you hear your Dad’s voice once more.

“Tara?” He asks.

“It’s me Dad,” You say, and he makes a noise of vague disappointment.

You roll your eyes.

“We’re fine, thanks for asking.” You say.

“Yes, yes, I heard you speak with Mom,” He assures, “Put Tara on the phone.”

You hand off the phone to your girlfriend and pry yourself out of her grip, busying yourself with playing the leftovers into their containers.

“Hello, Sir,” Says Tara, the way you might speak to the President.

She bobs her head, eyebrows knitting.

“Yes, I did see the 49ers play.”

You huff.

Tara averts her gaze.

“Yes, I did think they played like a bunch of seven year old girls.”

You roll your eyes once more.

Tara’s newfound friendship with your Dad is better than the alternative, at least. You’d lived the alternative.

It hadn’t been much fun.

“We’re okay,” Tara promises, suddenly, “I have every door locked down, alarms set and cameras operating.”

Your Dad murmurs something down the line you can’t hear.

Tara smiles, and then reaches for your hand.

“I’m not letting her out of my sight, Sir, you don’t have to worry,” She says, “I won’t let anyone hurt her. I promise.”

She hangs up not long after.

You should be used to it by now, the flutter in the pit of your stomach every time she gets protective, or calls you hers, but you’re not.

Butterflies cascade through your belly, branching out to the tips of your fingertips where they settle. You curl in around Tara and press your lips to her neck.

She smells good. No perfume, just the tinge of her skin and her coconut body wash.

You squeeze her hips and nip your teeth against the nape of her neck.

“Oh.” Tara sighs as you slip your fingers into the waistband of your jeans. She leans back into your touch, titling your head to capture your lips.

“Really?” She asks, a little excited.

You laugh.

You’d not had sex in a few weeks, hardly in the mood. Your wound aches most days, and the rest are spent really remarkably unsexy, despite Tara’s constant reassurance you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

She turns in your arms, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Sam won’t be home for hours,” You murmur against her lips, “Just you and me. The way it should be.”

“Your stomach doesn’t hurt?” She asks, a little soft. Her eyes swim with concern, “We can just watch a movie, if you want?”

You shake your head.

She looks good. Her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. No makeup, her spill of freckles poignant, her pretty lips pouty and red and kissable.

“I want you, baby,” You murmur, nuzzling your nose to the side of her face, “Do you want me too?”

You don’t have to wait long for a response.

She presses a searing kiss to your lips.

“Do you even have to ask?” She says, biting her lip.

“No,” You smile, “But I want to hear you say it anyway.”

“I want you,” She says, immediately. She’s excited again, you can tell by the way her eyes flicker, “I want you all the time.”

“Come take me then,” You murmur against her mouth.

She doesn’t have to be told twice.

She leads you up the staircase, walking backwards. Her mouth fused to yours, her careful hands roaming every span of skin she can get her hands on.

She helps you onto the bed, far gentler than her usual gig of wild hands and wild lips. Instead, this time she touches you as if you might shatter into a thousand pieces.

You make an annoyed murmur as she pulls your jeans down your legs. It feels like an age, the way she softly untangles the button and the zipper. Her touch is light, so un-Tara.

When she finally pulls your legs from your jeans, you almost cry out of frustration.

“Babe, I’m not going to break.” You tell her, but it falls on deaf ears.

She’s pressing her lips to your thigh, tiny, gentle touches as she pulls your underwear down your legs at a pain-stakingly slow pace.

“Don’t rush me, babe,” She says as you reach down to help her, “And lie back. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I feel fine,” You say, tilting up to meet her kiss, “Please hurt me.”

Tara huffs, drawing back slightly.

“It’s not fair to say things like that when you know I can’t.” She pouts, “The things I want to do to you will almost certainly rip your stitches.”

Arousal coils deep in your belly.

Then annoyance.

“Now who's not being fair?” It’s your turn to pout.

Tara nudges her lips to your neck.

“I’m going to make love to you, baby-girl,” She promises, her eyes dark, “That’s more than fair.”

You tilt your head up and press a lingering kiss to her lips.

“Besides. If I rip your stitches I think your Dad will have something to say.”

You wrinkle your nose.

“Let’s not talk about my Dad when we’re getting naked, babe,” You suggest.

She hums in agreement.

And then you reach for her shirt.

“Off.”

If she’s going to spend the entire evening getting your underwear down your legs, the least she can do is give you something to look at, you reason.

Your touch is impatient.

You pry off her jeans like there’s a time limit. Strip her of her shirt and her bra until she’s hovering naked above you, making your mouth water.

And suddenly, what little patience you had left is gone.

You rise up, starling her.

“Babe-“ She protests, but you can’t be reasoned with.

You tilt her around, until she’s lying back on the mattress, nudging her bare legs apart with your thighs.

“Too slow, my turn.” You murmur.

Your lips are hungry.

You kiss her, fierce, groaning slightly as your hands get to work. They work down the curve of her hips, to her thighs. You squeeze her, a little rough, and then move your hands to take her nipples between your fingers.

She gasps, her hips involuntarily jerking up towards yours. You detangle yourself from her lips, leaning down to press hot kisses against her neck.

She threads her fingers through your hair, tugging, tugging, as she moves against you. She’s still holding back, being careful not to touch your stomach.

You can tell by the way she’s groaning it’s hard for her.

And so you make it easy.

Your lips move down from her neck to her breasts. You circle each nipple once, then twice, before you’re taking her in your mouth, curling your arms around each of her thighs.

“Baby,” Tara murmurs, “Baby, your stomach-“

You release her nipple with a wet pop and a frown.

“I’m fine, babe.” You say, and it’s true.

It aches, slightly, but it always does nowadays. No matter what you’re doing.

And if it’s her you’re doing, at least the ache is dampened by the forest fire of arousal surging through your veins.

You return to your pilgrimage down her body.

Your lips graze her belly-button, your tongue slips down over the jut of her hips to the crest of her thighs.

She sighs, seemingly satisfied as you slip down further. Moving your body to settle nicely in between her legs.

Then, she tilts her head up, biting her lip.

Her eyes are hesitant, though encompassed with want.

“Tell me if it hurts,” She says, “Tell me and we can stop. Or…re-adjust.”

You nod, impatient.

“Alright babe, I will,” You say, raising an eyebrow, “Can I go down on you now?”

Her cheeks flush red with arousal.

“Please.” She whispers.

She’s beautiful, as ever.

You press your lips against the soft skin of her inner thighs, grazing your lips just gently. You use your tongue to work your way inwards.

Your breath catches in your throat the moment you taste her. Wet, syrupy, bittersweet goodness.

You lick it up, greedy for more. You press your lips to her folds, use your hands to spread her open for you. You lose control of your tongue.

One minute you’re ready to tease, the next, you’ve worked yourself up too much.

Your tongue moves hot across her folds and then down to her entrance. Your top lip brushes her clit and she sings.

A low moan that vibrates through the room.

A moan that indicates it’s been far too long since you’ve touched her like this.

You apologize with your mouth.

Low strokes of your tongue at her entrance. The quiet murmur of your own moan as your tongue moves up to circle her clit.

Lazy, slow, movements.

Then fast.

Like you’re changing your own mind too quickly.

You settle for writing words with your tongue.

babygirl, is what you spell out against her clit.

Your name. Her name. You connect them with a heart.

And then: mine.

Tara lets out a quiet moan as you take her clit between your lips. Sucking gently until her thighs are gripping like iron bars around the side of your head and her nails against your scalp bruise.

You give up on using the alphabet.

You slip two fingers inside her, sighing as she encases you. She’s tight and wet and begging for more.

You give it to her.

Curl your fingers up in just the right way. Lap your tongue over her clit just the way she likes.

And then she’s gasping as she tightens around you. She cries your name in a breathy moan as she cums hard around your fingers and mouth.

It’s always over too quickly, you think briefly as you reluctantly slip out of her. You need to learn patience. You need to learn how to tease.

But there’s something about her, and you don’t know how she does it. You just have to give her what she wants.

She lets out a happy sigh as you climb up her body and press your lips to her forehead.

She’s still a moment, but you know better. She recovers quickly.

In less than a minute she’s shifting.

You groan as your back hits the mattress.

Her hands slip down to your thighs, gripping you like she has an agenda. And she does. You know it by heart.

First, the gentle touch of her lips against your neck.

Then she’s sliding your underwear down your legs.

She kisses your lips, slips her tongue into your mouth for only a moment. And then she’s trailing kisses down your body.

Your chest. Your breasts.

She pays special attention to your nipples. Her eyes locking with yours as she sucks, ever so gently.

Your body feels hot.

You grip her face, holding her in place.

And then she’s nudging out of your grip, dipping down to press her lips to your navel.

She doesn’t kiss your scar, but you can tell she wants to.

She looks up at you, eyes wide and vulnerable as she squeezes your hips.

“You’re beautiful.” She murmurs. She ducks down and presses a kiss to the top of your inner thigh, “You’re perfect. My perfect girl.”

“Tara,” You say, voice a little gravelly, “Baby, please.”

She doesn’t make you wait.

One moment she’s pressing her lips to your thigh. The next, she’s dipping down between your legs. You lean back onto the pillows with a sigh.

Her lips graze.

She kisses your inner thigh.

Drags her tongue over your entrance and you gasp.

Then, her lips are on your clit.

You moan as she snakes a hand around your waist. The other slips between your legs. She teases for only a moment before she’s slipping her fingers inside you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion.

It’s not as though you’re not ready for it.

You’re so wet you’d give her a snorkel if she wasn’t such an experienced sailor.

But she rides your high seas like it’s her full time job.

Lips on your clit, fingers working in and out. She squeezes your hip with her free hand. Her talented mouth is like fire. Dancing around just where you need it most.

You close your eyes and let out a low moan.

She’s being careful.

Gentle.

Loving you like she doesn’t want to hurt you.

You take back the impatience. You take back the need for more, more, more.

Your sweet, loving girlfriend is all you need.

Gentle mouth. Careful tongue.

Her between your legs, working you into oblivion like sex is just a vehicle to express how deeply she loves you.

“Tara.”

You cum with her name on your lips. Her mouth fused around your lips. You cum feeling safe and wanted and needed.

And when she’s done, she climbs back up your body and presses the softest kiss to your lips.

Nestles herself with her head in your chest. Right next to your heartbeat.

Where she should be.

You close your eyes once more.

Thread your fingers through her hair. Press the softest of kisses to her forehead.

And then she looks up at you, her pretty brown eyes shimmering.

“Love you.” She murmurs. She punctuates her words with a kiss.

Your chest is heaving. You allow yourself the moment. Body thrumming with your orgasm, the love of your life pressed tight to your side.

Tara curls into you. She waits a moment, then looks over at you,

“I’m going to be better for you,” She murmurs, “I’ve put you through hell, baby, and I know that. But it all ends now.”

You frown.

“I’m in heaven with you, no matter what you’ve done,” You say, after a quiet moment, “After what we’ve both done. Right or wrong, I love you. And you love me. And that’s all that matters.”

Tara tilts her head to yours.

She takes your lips in a long, searing kiss.

She says what she can’t with words.

You say it too.

And when you pull back, you know she understands.

She’s yours.

And you are undeniably, irrefutably, entirely:

All hers. 

[nomie-11]

Epilogue - Unsent Correspondence from the Desk of Late Rider Cadet Liam Mairi

<- previous chapter | masterlist | series masterlist | next book! ->

Before the death of Liam Mairi was reported, and his items were burned, a stack of unsent letters from under his bed were taken by one graduated rider cadet and two second years. Among those letters, three letters in envelopes were addressed to The Wounded Healer, The Drowned, and The Guilty. These three people were later discovered to be Genevieve Hale, Violet Sorrengail, and Xaden Riorson, and were properly distributed. 

These three letters, for preservation purposes, are listed and titled below. 

Transcribed into a modern language by Jesinia Neilwart, Curator of the Scribe Quadrant of Basgiath War College. 

Unsent Correspondence from the desk of late Rider Cadet Liam Mairi

To my dear Violet, 

As I write this, Genevieve is passed out on my bedroom floor, and you’re softly asleep on my bed, in my sheets. I’ve never been good with words, especially ones I can’t bring myself to say out loud. But I need to try, at least this once. Because if I don’t, I think it’ll haunt me worse than the battle scars ever could. 

There’s something about the way you sleep, Vi. So peaceful, like the weight of the world hasn’t touched you. But I know it has. You carry so much on you, more than most people ever should or ever will. And yet, here you are, still fighting, still breathing, still… you. I don’t know how you do it, but I’m grateful every damn day that you do. 

Being around you, fighting alongside you, it gave me something I never thought I’d have in this bloody war—hope. Hope that there’s something worth protecting, something good that survives even in the darkest places. You’re that light, Vi. You’ve always been. And I know I shouldn’t say that because it sounds like something out of one of those stupid romance books we’d steal from Xaden and laugh at, but it’s true. You make me believe in things I should have long stopped believing in. 

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you the way I promised I would. I know you don’t need anyone to keep you safe—you’re fierce, stronger than most of us—but I wanted to, anyway. It was selfish, I suppose. I was supposed to protect Genevieve, but I wanted to be the one you turned to, the one you trusted with the things you don’t share with anyone else. And yet, here I am, with so much left unsaid. 

There are days, Vi, where I wonder what would’ve happened if we’d had met before the rebellion. Before the fighting and the death, before all of this. Maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe we could’ve had a chance at something more, something normal, something not filled with blood and battles. I’ve never let myself think too long about it, though. Because that’s not the world we live in, is it? We don’t get to have that kind of peace. 

But if I’m honest with you, and I have to be, you deserve that at least now, I wanted that. I wanted you. I wanted us. I wanted to wake up next to you, not just here, not just at the brink of dawn, but every damn day. I wanted to marry you. And gods, I hate myself for saying that because it feels too late, and maybe it is if you’re reading this, but it’s the truth. I’ve wanted that since the first time you smiled at me like I was something more than just another rebellion kid. 

I know this letter won’t reach you while I’m alive. And maybe it’s better that way. But I need you to know, Vi, that if I could go back, if I could change just one thing, it wouldn’t be how we fought or the decisions we made. No, it would be this; I’d ask you to marry me, right then and there. I wouldn’t wait for the perfect moment or a perfect day, because there’s no such thing in a world like ours. 

I’m going to die soon, I can feel it, but I’ll die without regrets. At least, that’s what I’d like to say. The truth is, I do have one. 

It’s that I never got to marry you. 

Yours eternally, Liam.

—-------------------------------------------

To Xaden,

I’m sorry. 

I’ve thought of a thousand ways to say it, but none of them feel like enough. I failed you. Worse than that, I put us all in danger because I couldn’t look at Violet and lie to her about everything. I thought if she knew the truth about Athebyne, it would protect her. But I recognize now that it’s probably going to be my downfall. It’s just… everytime I look at her it’s like the truth spills out. And now there’s no turning back. 

I’ve always known you carry a weight that no one else can understand, not even me. You were forced to lead before you were ready, forced to make decisions that no one should ever have to make. And I made it worse. I wanted to believe that if I could just tell Violet everything, tell her why I had to disappear at night, that maybe this wouldn’t be so hard. But I misjudged everything. Aetos probably read her memories, and by the time you’ve read this, I’ve probably destroyed everything. 

You’re right to be furious with me. I betrayed the only real family I’ve had since my parents died. And even though I did it because I thought it would help, it’s no excuse. I should have trusted you—trusted your wish to remain a secret, trusted that you’d find a way to protect us all, without dragging Violet into it. But I didn’t. And I’m sorry, Xaden. More than you know. 

But now it’s too late for apologies. By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. 

I don’t know how it’s going to happen—whether it’s a battle, an ambush, or just the cruel hand of fate—but I know that my time is coming. And I want you to know that when it does, I’ll go down fighting. Not just for you, not just for Violet, but for all of us. For everything we’ve been through, for everything we’ve fought for, for the futures we all deserved but never got. 

There’s one more thing, Xaden. Genevieve. 

You’re not going to like this, or maybe you will, but I had to make a choice. She’s important—to all of us, yes—but especially to you. I saw the way you looked at her, the way that she was the whole world in your arms. You’re as good at hiding your feelings as ever, but I know you. And even though she’s been forced into this situation, forced to spy on us, I know she isn’t our enemy. 

When it comes down to it, if it’s her or me, I’m choosing her. I’ve made peace with that. If it means you’ll survive and have someone by your side after I’m gone, someone who might understand what you’re going through, someone who’ll stand with you when the world turns to ash, then it’ll be worth it. 

So, if the time comes, and I have to make that choice, know it’s not because I don’t care about you. It’s because I do. It’s because you’ve spent too long losing the people you care about, and I won’t let it happen again, not if I can help it. 

The idea of dying doesn’t seem to scare me anymore, really, because I know when I die I won’t be alone. I’m excited to see my mother again, most of all. I love you more than words can convey, brother. You’ve always been the best part of me. And I’ll see you on the other side. 

Your brother, Liam Mairi

—--------------------------------------------

To Genevieve, 

I know you didn’t want it to go this way. Hell, you’re probably furious with me. And you should be. I never asked for your permission to make this decision, to sacrifice myself for you. But, Genevieve, I think we both knew from that night in February that it would end like this. We just didn’t say it out loud, did we? Some things don’t need to be said to be understood. 

I’m sorry. 

I’m sorry because I know what this will do to you, how much you hate owing anyone anything. But this isn’t about debts or favors or even survival. This was my choice, and I made it because you deserve a shot at something beyond this. I’ve seen the fire in your eyes, even when you’re trapped in a cage that you didn’t build but can’t seem to escape. You deserve the chance to break free, to live beyond the strings people keep trying to tie you to. 

I don’t want you to think for one second that this makes you weak, that my decision somehow implies that you couldn’t make it on your own. You could. You can. But I also know you’ve been fighting with every ounce of strength you’ve got for so damn long, and I just… I wanted to give you a moment. Just one. A moment to breathe, to take control of your fate without someone else calling the shots. 

It’s not fair. None of this is fair. The fact that we’re even here, at Basgiath, trapped between wars we didn’t start and loyalties we didn’t choose—it’s all wrong. But we don’t get to change that. What we can change is what we do with what’s left. And what’s left for me, Geneiveve, is making sure you get out of this alive, no matter what. 

I know you’ll never forgive me for this. I know you’ll curse my name every day from here on out. And maybe I deserve that. But I couldn’t just stand by and watch you burn yourself to ash trying to survive in this gods-forsaken world. You’ve got something inside you, something bigger than revenge, bigger than all this pain. You just don’t see it yet. 

And you will. One day, when the smoke clears and the world isn’t quite as dark, you’ll understand why I did it. And maybe you’ll hate me a little less. 

So live, Genevieve. Live on your terms, not anyone else’s. And when you do, don’t look back. Not for me. Not for anyone. 

I’ll be with you, in whatever comes next. I just hope you’ll find a way to forgive yourself for not saving me, even if you can’t forgive me. You need to remember that you are nobody’s soldier, and know that I’m always beside you, for you are my greatest adversary and my best friend. 

Your sword and shield, Liam

----------------------------------

So, how are we feeling?

That's it for The Wounded Healer, The Drowned, and The Guilty! This will be a bit of a longer note because there's so much I want to say about this project and what it meant to me to write it.

This is my first writing project after what was a pretty hard breakup for me. I didn't write for the almost entire year I was talking with my ex, and then he cheated on me and I decided that I needed an escape. I read Fourth Wing to give me a quick break from reality, and between the breakup and reading Fourth Wing, Genevieve Hale was born.

I'm actually not a romantasy reader, nor am I a romantasy writer, I tend to sway towards classical literature and poetry, but I can appreciate a good book when there's a good book, even if I don't love the writing style or the main romance, so this was a huge step out of my comfort zone, but it was a lot of fun!

It's actually 3 months and 1 day that I'm completing this since starting it. I started writing it on August 15th, and then finished writing on October 27th, and finished publishing today, November 16th, which is pretty crazy. And I reached 100 followers literally yesterday on Tumblr, which is pretty crazy (at least to me--100 followers in three months???), so thank you all so much for being invested in my writing. I never imagined people would actually read this, and I'm so grateful for each and every one of you.

There's a lot of things in book 1 that I left unexplained that will be covered in book 2, we will go more into Genevieve's father, Genevieve's mother, Genevieve's signet, Genevieve's relationship with Xaden (and Violet post-Resson), and much more.

With that being said, now you understand the title of the book The Wounded Healer, The Drowned, and The Guilty. Genevieve is the wounded healer, a fitting title for someone who cannot physically heal someone without nearly killing herself, but it's also a title for her emotional state. Violet is the drowned, representative of the grief that will consume a lot of her actions in book 2, and a lot of the things that Liam hid from her, and Xaden is the guilty, a testament to the lies and deception he was taking part in when hiding details from Genevieve. I already released the title for book 2, so it should give you some insight into what will go down in the second book, but I'm excited to hear your theories (if you have any).

What do you think will happen between Xaden and Genevieve, Genevieve and Violet, Genevieve and (eventually) Catriona and the gryphon fliers? How will Genevieve cope with the loss of Liam? What developments will Genevieve's signet and her understanding of it go through? Let me know!

Anyways, that is it for now! I'll be back in a little bit (probably around 2-3 weeks) with chapter 1 of The Tragic Hero, The Betrayed, and The Haunted, but between now and then there will be some bonus content (incorrect quotes, one shots--x reader and x genevieve, etc) posted here and there. That will only be on Tumblr for my Ao3 readers, so find me at nomie-11 if you are interested!

As always, if you enjoyed, leave a like, comment, or kudo, and I'll see you all soon with book 2!

-------

Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml

[daisies-daydreams]

could you possibly do a scenario with Ghost (or all of task force+König if you’d like c:) x reader where they find out we sleep in the nude?

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader 

Category: Fluff (with a bit of spice) 

Warnings: Nudity (obvs), Swearing, Suggestive Content 

Word Count: 600+

A/N: Hello! It’s good to hear from you again! I had fun writing this one, hehe. I hope you enjoy! (Side note: the reader is a Sergeant in this scenario).

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Simon sighed as he shrugged his heavy tactical vest off of his sore shoulders. Every single fiber of his muscles ached from the long trek to the safe house, not to mention escaping yet another hostile situation by the skin of their teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut as he thought about how you just barely missed that stray bullet, a small smoke trail lingering in a fresh hole in the wall…

He shook his head before tugging off his rough skeletal gloves. His body felt unbearably heavy as he leaned against the wall, his chest rising and falling as exhaustion seeped into his bones. Simon released a long exhale as he pulled his mask off, the chilly air falling over his sweat-covered face.

“Simon?” a soft voice suddenly called. His eyes snapped open as he stiffened, his body frozen in place as you stirred in the twin bed across from him. 

“Shit,” he thought. He could’ve sworn this room wasn’t taken yet.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied with a strained voice. You paused for a moment.

“What are you doing in my room?” you asked with furrowed brows. Simon’s breath hitched as he saw you sit up in the bed, the blanket falling down to reveal your bare chest. Your nipples hardened as the cold air swept over you, goosebumps instantly covering your skin. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he thought as he looked down at his mud-caked boots. A quiet tension built between the two of you as you gasped and pulled the blanket up over your breasts. He cleared his throat, feeling blood rush to the tips of his ears and…elsewhere. 

“Sorry. Just came in here by accident,” he muttered as he gripped his balaclava and turned on his heel. He heard the bed creak as he went to grab his vest. 

“Wait,” you said. His shoulders tensed as he heard the bed creak again, his cock starting to strain beneath his pants as thoughts of it creaking a whole lot more bombarded his mind. His heart raced as he heard your swift footsteps grow closer. Simon swore the room was spinning when he felt you place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sir, I know this isn’t something I should be asking you, but could you maybe…stay?” you asked with a hushed tone. Simon loosened his grip on his vest as his heartbeat thrummed in his ears. His chest clenched when he heard you sigh and slip your hand away.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“ Simon suddenly turned around, his nose nearly brushing against yours as he came chest to chest with you. Both of you were quiet as he swallowed thickly, his mind racing at a thousand miles per hour as he felt your warm body pressed against his. You gazed into his dark, hungry eyes as he licked his dry lips. 

“You sure you want me to stay?” he murmured. You nodded as you rubbed your tits against his covered chest. 

“Please,” you whispered. Simon’s hands instantly fell to your hips as he dipped his head down and locked his lips with yours. You moaned into his mouth as he backed you against the wall, his hard cock brushing against your thigh. The two of you parted with a wet “pop” before he kissed along your jaw, relishing in the way you tilted your hips forward.

“Get back in the bed, Sergeant,” Simon husked into your ear. 

Epilogue 

“You seem to be in a better mood today, Lt.,” Soap piped up. Everyone was in the main room of the safe house preparing for evac. Price and Gaz casted him a sideways glance before going back to their preparations. Simon was thankful his skull balaclava shrouded his obviously annoyed expression…as well as a few hickeys covering his thick neck.

“Sure,” the lieutenant shrugged, his gaze slowly wandering over to you. You gave him a small grin before glancing down. Soap’s line of sight shifted between the two of you for a bit before his bright, blue eyes widened. Simon leaned over. 

“Not one word, MacTavish,” he warned in a low voice. 

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape Pt. 8 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, 18+ (Smut and Dirty Talk), Alcohol, Angst, Emotional Dilemmas, PDA, Secrecy, Not Edited

Word Count: 8.5k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: We have reached our final destination (well kind of, there will still be an epilogue). This is the final part of Sweet Escape. Thank you all so much for all the love, I'm so glad that you guys have enjoyed it as much as I have enjoyed writing it! I will be back soon with another little daydream. I love you all and enjoy the conclusion to our roller coaster.

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven

You can’t risk losing Lewis. 

As you step out of the shower you feel a surge of anxiety and power wash over you. How the hell are you supposed to talk to him? It doesn’t take long before you hear him coming down the hall, greeting Daniel on the way, evidently just back from his run. You decide to bite the bullet, there’s no point in wasting time. You hear his door close and immediately make your way out of your own. Your hair is still wet and your attire is mismatched, throwing short on the second you heard him in the hallway. You don’t particularly care if anyone hears you or sees you, you need to get this out before you continue to think about it and change your mind. You’ve gone back and forth over this enough times, you need to finally make your thoughts known. You knock on his door, hoping he can hear you. Thankfully it only takes a moment before his door swings open, he’s standing there covered in sweat, his breathing still slightly labored, just having got back from his run. 

“Y/N?” He seems slightly confused at your sudden intrusion, “Is everything okay?”

You don’t answer his question just pushing past his sticky body and into his bedroom, it’s been a while since you were last in here, today will be a much different outcome. You’re going to stand your ground. He doesn’t ask another question just accepting that you must need to talk, moving to push his door shut.

“Why did you take me to see Marina and Leon?” You blurt out the second his door is closed.

He hesitates for a moment, a question written across his face, “I don’t know, I thought it would be good for Leon to meet someone like you, and Marina had about a billion questions about you so, I don’t know, it just felt right.”

“Why have you told Marina about me?” You ask your next question, not really waiting to process what he’s saying.

“Because I care about you, I’m constantly thinking about you, and I like to tell her about important things in my life. You’re an important thing in my life.” He shrugs as if it shouldn’t even be a question.

“What about us has ever made you think that a relationship between the two of us would even ever work?” You ask him, feeling your heart clench at his words but needing to get all your questions out as quickly as possible.

“I kind of thought I made that clear,” He starts softly, unsure if you’ll really let him get all of his thoughts out, “but, I guess to try to explain it, it’s everything that you do, everything I feel when I’m around you. Charlotte yelled at me a few days ago, and rightfully so, about constantly acting like your boyfriend with none of the commitment or intimacy, that it’s not fair to either of us, not fair to you. Y/N, I am truly happy every second I spend with you, you’re an absolute breath of fresh air, a respite, the idea of coming home to someone like that warms my soul. I have spent so much time wandering around, looking for a place to land and looking in all of the wrong places, evidently. I don’t want to do that anymore, not when everything I’ve always wanted and needed is right in front of me. I’ve been single for a long time, but I know what this feels like, I’ve just never felt it like this before. We’re already halfway there, I don’t see why taking the next step would be bad for either of us.”

He’s just standing in the middle of his room, keeping a good distance from you, trying his best to bore his speech into your brain. It annoys you how good he can look even after a run. When most people would look like a drowned rat with the amount of sweat covering his body, he looks like he’s shining, the sweat somehow making every muscular dip and tattoo even more center stage than usual. You stare at him for a moment, letting his rant twist your heart in ways you didn’t know it could, swallowing down tears as you hear just how much the man in front of you truly cares. You hate that everything he has said is right.

“Thank you again for trusting me with meeting Leon, and Marina, I’m honored you let me into that part of your life.” You say, your voice thick with emotion.

You can see his face contort, confused at both your lack of proper response and your subject change, he imagines it’s because you’re trying to swerve away from the topic, but he just nods softly, “Of course, I trust with you with my life, with my heart, with everything. There’s no one I would rather he meet.”

“I don’t want to lose you Lewis.” You say firmly, “I can’t lose you, that’s why us trying this doesn’t make sense.” Your words are rushed and your brain is speeding a mile a minute, needing to get everything out into the air.

You can visibly see him deflate, his face faltering, an audible sigh coming from him.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this but you will never lose me, not in a million years. Sure things may change, but that’s the trajectory of life, regardless of what you and I do, things are destined to change, it’s evolution. Try thinking of it in the sense that you already have me, forever, for better or worse, but now I want to give you more of me, just you. We have each other now, but it could be so much more, and somehow I think even better. Tell me you don’t think about how nice it would be to fall asleep next to each other at night. When I hug you I can feel you melt into me, I fucking relish in it, that’s why I never pull away, that could be our normal, how we fall asleep, how we cuddle and watch some stupid fucking show. Think about how good we could make each other feel, emotionally, physically, fuck, on levels we don’t even know exist yet. I want this with you, I adore you and everything about you, there’s absolutely nothing in my mind that questions you and I being a good couple. We’ve already got the platonic relationship down, we know each other so fucking well, better than most people who have been married for twenty god damn years, we have a head start. Everyone always says that your partner should end up being your best friend, we already did that, so here I am, you best friend, telling you I want to be your partner, and fuck I hope you hear me.”

He lets out a deep sigh as he finishes his rant, you can tell he’s had that bottled within him for a while. You let him speak, not needing to hear it but wanting to, your mind is already made up, it doesn’t really matter what he says at this point. You’re quite amazed by the outpouring of emotions you’re receiving from him, not used to him letting himself truly be vulnerable. He looks tired and you can tell that if he were a normal man he would be close to giving up, but he’s not a normal man and ‘giving up’ is nowhere in his vocabulary. Lewis is competitive and strives to win, he doesn’t back down, especially when it’s truly important to him. That alone is part of the reason that you feel confident in your decision.

“So, if we’re going to do this, some things need to be made very clear.” You continue after his rant, not having the ability to even begin to process everything he just said. You need to charge ahead, his words only fueling your confidence in your decision.

You can tell he doesn’t quite believe the words that have just left your mouth but he does his best to restrain from making you repeat them. He stays silent, nodding obediently, but you can see the corner of his lips twitching, begging to break into the largest smile known to man.

“First, it’s only you and I in this relationship, your playboy fuckboy antics, they need to be thrown out the window immediately.” You begin the list that had played over and over in your head over the last few hours, “Second, there always needs to be communication, on both of our parts, no fucking games, no fucking secrets, honesty and communication.”

He’s nodding along eagerly, you almost worry that he’s not listening but you can’t stop yourself to reprimand him.

“Third,” You continue, “we take this slow. I am not and will never be one of your play things. You will respect me and my limits and we’re not rushing into anything, you need to prove yourself, I’m still a little bit upset with you. Fourth, jesus christ, for the love of god, please get tested, I don’t need every bitch from every corner of the universe inside of me. Got it?”

He giggles at your last demand but nods nonetheless.

“Done, done, done, and already done.” He agrees, no hesitation.

“Lewis, I need this to work, because I’m not sure I would be able to function without you at this point.” You sigh, letting your final thought out.

He nods once again, “Agreed,” He lets out a content sigh, “So is that you saying you’ll do this with me? You’ll be mine, all mine?” His voice is hesitant but eager as he asks the question, slowly making his way toward you.

“Only if you’ll be mine and only mine.” You say, your voice quieting down as he approaches you.

“In a heartbeat babe.” His voice is only above a whisper but his eyes are boring down into yours, making you anxious and giddy all at once.

“Okay, last demand, properly ask me out.” Your lips lose your internal battle as they spread across your face into a wide smirk, needing to make him work for it one last time. It’s cruel, really, with how much he has already put into winning you over, but you need him to do it. One last little bit of confidence that this is all real.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you please be my girlfriend? All mine, forever?” His smile has now broken over his face, unable to contain it as he stands only a few inches from you. He laughs gently through his words, amused by your request but willing to do whatever you need to finally be his. He’s smiling in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen before, it's a whole new level of boyish excitement that makes your heart swell.

“Lewis Hamilton, I would be absolutely honored.” Within seconds of the words leaving your lips he has wrapped you in a large bear hug, picking you up off the ground, making you squeal.

“Lewis,” You whine through laughter, “you’re so fucking sweaty, I just showered.”

“This is what you just signed up for baby girl.” He chuckles, pressing a kiss against your head. You're rather confident that your name has already been long forgotten, pet names now taking its place.

“Okay, I take it back, I regret my decision.” You laugh playfully, his beard tickling you as he continues his assault of kisses that have now made their way to your cheek.

“Nope, no take backs.” He giggles against your cheek, placing you back down on the floor.

When he finally releases his grip from you his hands quickly find your cheeks, cupping your smiling face in his large hands.

“So beautiful, and all mine.” He mutters as if to himself.

“All yours.” You whisper back, making his smile even bigger if possible.

“I know you said we have to take this slow,” He starts, making you raise an eyebrow at him, “but can I please kiss you?”

You don’t have it anywhere in you to say no, all you can do is bite your lip with a nod, eagerly awaiting his lips on yours. He stares at you for a moment, as if processing the permission you just granted him. You expected the kiss to be harsh, almost messy from his excitement, but it was far from it. He leans in to you slowly, almost cautiously before connecting his lips with yours. You both sigh the moment you’re finally in contact. His lips are so soft and his large hands cupped around your cheek make you feel small, all you can do is melt into him. You bring your arms up around his sticky neck, still sweatier than you would normally find yourself being okay with. He keeps the kiss gentle but moves one arm to snake around your waist, pulling you flush against him as if there’s no possibility you could ever be close enough. He doesn’t move to deepen the kiss, his tongue never appears, he barely even moves, just enjoying the fact that you’re finally connected, even in the most simple of ways. When he finally pulls away you find yourself wanting to chase his lips, not having had quite enough just yet. He notices the involuntary reaction, chuckling slightly as he rests his forehead on yours. You place your hands on his chest, enjoying the firmness under your palms, realizing that it’s all yours to enjoy now. You almost go to take back your statement about taking it slow but the last logical brain cell you have stops you.

“We have to figure out how to make this work Lewis.” You whisper, not wanting to disrupt the peace in between you two.

“We will, I would never forgive myself if I let you go.” He says, his voice just as quiet.

“Do we tell everyone?” You ask, not sure what to do next, especially when trapped in a house together.

“We can wait, or do whatever feels natural. As long as we know.” He eases your mind, letting you know there’s no pressure.

You nod, grateful you don’t feel the need to go announce it to the whole house.

“Now go take a shower so I can have a much less disgusting hug.” You laugh, pushing against his chest.

“You liked it.” He joins your laughter, slowly parting from you.

“Shower.” You repeat, pointing toward the door of the bathroom.

“You can always join.” He playfully winks.

“Slow, Lewis, we’re taking it slow.” You reprimand him, feeling yourself blush but still laughing.

“I’ll be quick, be ready with open arms.” He flashes you a smile, disappearing into the bathroom.

…

You’re in the kitchen, starting to prepare dinner when Lewis finally comes out of his room, freshly showered and looking so damn cuddly in a large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. It will forever bother you that even in his pajamas he manages to look better than the entire population. Everyone else is out on the patio, setting the table and making drinks.

“I thought I was getting a hug when I got out of the shower, maybe another kiss.” Lewis whispers to you, startling you when his voice comes from so close behind you.

He chuckles when he notices you jump, stepping away from you only slightly to take a spot next to you at the counter, grabbing a knife and cutting up some veggies. You can’t help but watch as his hand grips the stupid cucumber, something that should not affect you, yet it does.

You’re looking at the way the veins in his hands flex as he adjusts his grip as you mutter to him with a smirk, “Behave.”

“I don’t know, I feel like I was promised a reward that I didn’t get.” He says quietly, shrugging his shoulders. He’s standing close enough to you that you can feel the movement.

“I think you got plenty of a reward for one day. I mean hey, you got me.” You taunt him, your voice staying just as low.

“Oh, how right you are.” He sighs, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your temple before moving past you to the fridge.

“Look who finally showed up to help.” Charlotte’s voice comes through the kitchen as she walks in the back doors.

“Did you want my sweaty ass making your dinner?” Lewis shoots back at her.

Her face scrunches up at the thought.

“Didn’t think so.” He says, his attention already turned back to the fridge in hunt of something.

You can’t help but giggle, feeling as though you are truly on cloud nine. Nothing could have prepared you for the absolute ecstasy that would be coursing through your body after making that man yours, or really you should say allowing yourself to be his, he truly did all the heavy lifting.

“What’s so funny? You know how nasty he is after a run.” Charlotte shoots you a look, almost asking you to back her up.

You just laugh, thinking about the fact that you were wrapped around his sweaty body only twenty minutes ago.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go see if I can find a board game or something for later.” Charlotte announces, heading off toward the other side of a house where you know there is a still unused game room. You’d seen it for only a few minutes, Miles and Lewis having spent a few hours playing on the various arcade games, their inner child truly coming out.

Lewis was now walking back over to you, his hands full of various ingredients he had gathered. You went to attempt to take some of them but he just tutted, swatting your hand away.

“I got this, you just sit over there and look pretty, keep me entertained.” He nodded his head over toward the kitchen island, a smirk on his face.

“I hope you know, my way of keeping you entertained will most likely be me making fun of your culinary skills.” You tell him, not arguing with him doing all the work, as you happily perch yourself on one of the stools. You can’t help but enjoy the view. He takes his cutting board off the counter and moves it to the island, making sure he’s facing you so he can glance at you every once in a while.

“Whatever makes you happy, love.” He chuckles, not looking up at you as he gets to chopping.

Your stomach flips at the pet name, he’s called you love before but to your knowledge it always just been in a polite british way. Now it feels different, you want to  assume it’s because he’s all the sudden your boyfriend, but in reality you know it’s because of just how much you care for the man standing in front of you. You sit in silence for a few moments, just admiring how beautiful he is, truly looking like a god while he does the most mundane tasks. You know you’re done for.

“You’re pretty quiet over there, where the critique?” Lewis teases you, noting your silence.

“Well, first of all I’m just admiring my view,” You admit, “Second of all, you unfortunately seem to be a half decent cook.”

“Babe, I don’t know if my ego can take all this flattery.” He laughs.

“Don’t get used to it, I’m simply in a strangely good mood.” You shrug, laughing yourself.

“I would hope you’d be in a good mood, big shit happened today.” He looks at you with a soft playful smile. You can tell he’s being sincere under his teasing tone.

Before you can respond your friends are making their way into the kitchen, offering to help with dinner before being shooed away by Lewis who is seemingly on his own mission. You can’t help but laugh, noting that he gives Charlotte a run for her money when it comes to being in control of the kitchen. You can’t help but be a tad bit annoyed at the intrusion, not that anyone even knows they were interrupting anything, and in reality, they weren’t. You were just enjoying your one on one time being playful with Lewis in your newfound status after having been at odds with him for so long. Much to your dismay, Lewis paid much less attention to you while your friends were around. You understood it, he was keeping things normal between the two of you, at least outwardly, he was respecting your anxiety of everyone finding out that something had changed between you.

The evening carried on happily and calmly. You discovered that when left on his own in the kitchen, Lewis was actually quite a good cook, you would have to make him cook for you another time, just you. Charlotte had found Monopoly somewhere in the house, which you promptly lost at, Lewis then insisting that you team up. No one batted an eye at it other than Charlotte, she had shot you a questioning look, wordlessly asking if the two of you were okay. You had only nodded, a soft smile on your face. She had seemed content enough with that, letting you be for the rest of the evening. By the time that you were headed to bed you were full of a joy you hadn’t felt in years, maybe ever. Lewis had very discreetly managed to give you a kiss on the cheek and a small hug before you headed to bed, whispering something about caching in on your promise from earlier. As you fell asleep you couldn’t help but feel like all of your stars had finally aligned in the most perfect way, even if you had no idea what was in store for your future.

…

Your final days of vacation were here, a few days prior you would have wished they would come and go as quick as possible but now, waking up in this new chapter of your life, you wished you could bottle the next few days and never let them go. The morning was lazy, lying in the sun after breakfast before deciding to head down to the beach to do the exact same thing, only with even more gorgeous views. From where you were seated, you already had the best view you could possibly ask for. Lewis was off in the side yard, fully immersed in a full body workout. You were admiring him from a distance, pretending to read your book, but your eyes kept wandering over to his glistening back and bulging biceps as he did effortless push-ups, it would have been criminal not to watch. You knew that he knew you were watching him, he had readjusted specifically to give you a better view, the cocky bastard. When everyone had gone inside to get ready, you stayed back, wanting even just a second alone with him. The second everyone was indoors you made your way over to him, sitting criss crossed on the ground in front of where he was doing sit ups now. One rep he sat up and gave you a wide smile before disappearing again, making you giggle, next rep his eyes flicked over to the door, third rep he came up and grabbed your cheeks, relaxing his form as he pulled your face to his, hesitating for only a moment before firmly planting his lips on yours. Once again he kept it pg but it still felt like heaven on earth. You giggled as you pulled away, feeling like a teenager who had just had her first kiss, you couldn’t help but feel that this is how it would always be with Lewis.

“So what did I hear? Are we headed down to the beach?” He asked, keeping his face rather close to yours, closer than it should be for a friend.

“Yeah, I was just coming over to tell you.” You say, blatantly lying as to why you had approached him.

“Mmmhmmm…” He smirked, catching your lie in an instant.

“Okay, maybe not.” You admitted, leaning in to peck his lips once more. He didn’t let that happen though as he made sure you stayed in place much longer than you had intended, not that you minded in the least bit. 

“I should go shower then.” He mumbled as he finally pulled away, moving to stand

“There’s no point, just go jump in the ocean.” You said, making him stay seated in front of you.

“I’m beginning to think that you like me when I’m sweaty,” He smirked before leaning in to place a kiss to your jaw, “and I have to say, I can think of a few ways you could help me work up a sweat.”

You felt your cheeks heat up in an instant, trying to push away the mental images of him above you, his chest glistening. You knew he could tell just how he had affected you when you saw the look on his face when he pulled away.

“Well, I guess I’ll just go put on some trunks then.” He said with a wink as he finally got up to his feet, you not having any ability to stop him right now.

Looking up at him from your spot on the ground as he stood above you had a whole new slew of thoughts rushing through your head. You were a horny mess. The smirk on his face was all knowing and you wanted desperately to wipe it off his face, but there was no use, he was dead on.

You made sure to stay behind and wait for Lewis, who had ended up insisting on showering, as everyone else made their way down to the beach. You were at the kitchen island, scrolling through your phone, when he finally came out. You were wearing one of your bikinis, one you had worn already on the trip, back when he and Miles had tried to teach you to surf. His hands were on your waist before you even knew he was in the room. 

“Waiting for me, beautiful?” His head was nuzzled into your neck, not trying anything, just enjoying the closeness.

You lightly pushed him away, spinning on the stool to face him. On instinct you widened your legs, allowing him to step between them so he could be closer to you, bad idea. Your breath hitched when you realized what you had just done, feeling him just brush up against you. You could tell that he wasn’t trying to grind against you or anything, it was just a casualty of trying to get closer to you, but that didn’t make it affect you any less.

“Um, yeah, wanted to walk down with you.” You half mumble, your brain jumbled.

He smiled softly, “Everyone gone?”

All you could do was nod.

“Good.” He let out a heavy breath, pulling your cheeks to press your lips together.

He was slightly more explorative this time and you didn’t mind in the slightest. The kiss was nothing like the first time he had kissed you, messy and open mouthed, but he slightly toyed with your bottom lip, running his tongue along it gently. You ever so slightly opened your mouth, allowing him the small bit of access he so desperately wanted. Nothing but the tips of your tongues met, ever so slightly dancing across each other as you both tested the waters. When he finally pulled away he made sure to leave multiple pecks to your lips, leaving you happily satisfied yet still wanting more. You weren’t quite sure anything would ever be enough with Lewis.

He stepped away, trying to discreetly adjust himself, making you laugh. He sent you a look before righting himself as if nothing had happened. He extended his hand to you, pulling you off the barstool as he intertwined his fingers with yours. Walking hand in hand with him, slightly leaning your weight against him, felt like the most natural thing in the world. You couldn’t help but admire him, almost tripping a few times on your way down the path, making him chuckle. With a towel slung over one shoulder, his swim trunks low on his hips, and a dark pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, he looked perfect, absolutely effortless.

You had parted ways once you got to your friends, still trying your very best to stay discreet. That lasted only about a half hour, the second Lewis had decided he wanted to get in the water he was dragging you along with him. Very much like the last time, he was throwing you into the water almost immediately. His smile was wide as he watched you curse him out. As if he had forgotten that your friends were back on the beach, he grabbed you and pulled you towards where he was floating in the water. You could touch the bottom but only on your tiptoes and you could tell that he had opted to tread water, always staying active. He wrapped your legs around his hips, keeping you afloat with him.

“Well hello there.” You laughed at his sudden move.

“Hello.” He chuckled, nuzzling into your neck.

“Lew, what are you doing?” You asked semi cautiously, enjoying him but knowing that if anyone decided to sit up from their towel they would immediately see you being evidently more than friends.

“Enjoying being in the Caribbean Sea with my girl. I’m finally really enjoying vacation.” His words were slightly muffled as his lips moved against your neck.

“Babe, everyone can see us right now.” You whispered, feeling like you were trying to keep a secret even from the fish in the ocean.

He let out a content humm at the use of your pet name, placing a kiss to your throat, “We said whatever feels natural right? This feels natural. Fuck them, let’s just enjoy this.”

He pulled away, his arm readjusting its grip around your waist. You could feel the strength in his muscles and it made your stomach clench, thinking about him holding you in so many other ways. You just stared at him for a moment, contemplating everything.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked sincerely, noticing the torn look on your face.

You thought about it for only a moment longer, deciding being in his arms was much too good to waste in order to keep a secret, “Nope, you’re right, fuck ‘em.”

His smile was wide as you let yourself truly wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in to place a kiss against his smile. He could barely kiss you back, too happy to use his mouth for anything but the biggest grin you could imagine.

“I’m really happy.” You whispered to him, only a few centimeters from his lips.

“I am too baby, I am too.” He shook his head almost in disbelief.

You have no idea how long the two of you spent bobbing around in the water, but it was long enough that your friends had either gotten sick of the sun or sick of the PDA, possibly both.

“Hey,” Miles yelled, “we’re headed to the house, you guys coming or are you gonna keep fucking eachother in the ocean?”

You laughed, hiding your face in Lewis’ shoulder as he flipped Miles off. You were rather surprised at how casual Miles seemed about it, maybe he was expecting it, maybe he had known how Lewis felt longer than you had, regardless you were grateful that it didn’t seem like a big deal.

“Be up soon.” Lewis yelled back, Miles returning his one finger salute.

You stayed wrapped around each other only a little while longer as you enjoyed the serenity of being with your person in the most beautiful of places. No talking was needed as you basked in the sound of nature and peace surrounding you. Your heart felt whole, in a way it hadn’t in quite some time. You were shocked at how quickly you had fallen into a new cycle with Lewis, but you didn’t mind one bit.

. . . 

“I swear to god if I have to hear you two fuck, I might lose my shit.” Miles said, his face showing nothing but seriousness as you and Lewis both burst out laughing.

After you had made your way back to the house, Lewis had thrown caution to the wind, promptly pulling you down into his lap as you came out onto the patio after changing. You hadn’t fought him on it, equally as content as he was and fully aware everyone had already seen you in the water. The only problem was now they were close enough to tease you. The second Charlotte saw him do it she squealed.

“Ah please tell me my two favorite people have finally realized that they need to get married and have kids?” She had clapped, her voice shrill with excitement.

“Woah, slow down there Char’, she became my girlfriend yesterday, give us a damn minute.” Lewis had chuckled, seemingly somewhat prepared for Charlotte's antics.

“Hey now, two favorite people?” Miles had complained, giving Charlotte a playfully offended look.

“Okay sorry, two of my favorite people.” She corrected herself, rolling her eyes.

“I’m just worried I’m never gonna see you two again, gonna be far too obsessed with each other to ever see the light of day again. Also hold up, girlfriend?” Miles had carried on.

“You speaking from experience?” Steph teased him, “Is Lewis that good?”

“Oh fuck off,” He didn’t even look at her, opting to flip her off instead, “but seriously, girlfriend?” He looked at you.

You just nodded, shyly, “He wore me down, he can be quite persuasive.”

“I’m just shocked because the last time I saw you two really interact, I’m pretty sure you wanted to either cut his dick off or punch him in the face.” Miles laughs.

“Oh I did, but we talked… a lot.” You laugh, not wanting to really go into much detail.

Somehow Lewis manages to get the conversation away from your relationship status and you silently thank him, not in the mood for some big hoopla and discussion about your feelings. As everyone chatters on around you the evening quickly turns to night and people begin to bid their goodnights. With only a few people left on the patio, you do the same, whispering to Lewis before announcing it to the group. When you get to your room, you realize that you quite wish you had given him a kiss before you left, too shy to do it infront of everyone just yet. You sit on your bed in your pajamas, waiting to hear him head to his room. Finally you hear his voice in the hall, making you move to try to sneakily follow him to his room. You don’t hear anyone else in the hall so you make a run for it. You feel like a boarding school student breaking curfew with the way that you run on your tiptoes over to his doorway, knocking ever so softly.

“Yeah?” His voice is louder than you would have liked.

Instead of waiting for further permission, you gently ease his door open, slipping in quickly and softly shutting it behind you. He’s in the middle of taking off the sweatshirt he had put on earlier in the night, his t-shirt riding up as he does so, putting his abs wonderfully on display.

“Hello you.” He smirks when he finally sees you.

“Sorry.” You mumble, suddenly embarrassed that you just snuck into his room for a silly goodnight kiss after only dating the man for a day.

For some reason your brain is on a different level than your relationship technically is, you feel like you’ve been together for months, years even. It’s exactly what he was talking about, he’s been acting as your boyfriend for some time but now you finally have the intimacy you had secretly dreamed of.

“Don’t be sorry,” He smiles, approaching you to place his hands on your hips, “I too was thinking I needed to come steal a kiss before bed.” He puts your mind at ease, pressing his lips to yours softly.

You find yourself deepening the kiss, his soft manner not being enough for you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against his firm torso. He’s more than welcoming, wrapping his arms around you tightly, pulling you against him even harder than before. You take the lead this time, licking against his mouth. It takes him barely a second to respond, letting your tongue explore his mouth, his moving in sync against yours. When he groans into the kiss you can’t help but try to pull him even closer to you. He leans you against the door you had just snuck in through, his hands gravitating down towards your ass. You don’t stop him, nothing could possibly make you stop him in that moment. His large hands rest carefully atop your ass, not wanting to cross anymore of a boundary than he already is. You try to give him more permission, pressing your hips against his as you do your very best not to break from his lips that are growing hungrier by the second. The heat of his body and the lack of oxygen from the kiss are making you lightheaded, you need him, so much more than you could have ever imagined. You throw your demands out the window, fuck taking it slow, you needed to take him now.

He feels you press your hips against him, taking the hint and finally properly grabbing your ass, greedy handfuls in his large palms. He groans again and the sound goes straight to your core. You bring one of your legs up around his waist, hoping he gets the hint fully, and does he ever. Within moments he’s moving his hands to your thighs, beckoning for you to jump up so your legs are wrapped firmly around his waist. Finally he properly presses himself against you, his lips moving down to your jaw and trailing down your neck. It feels just as good as it did the first time you felt him do just this, but this time it’s even better, because you know you won’t be stopping him this time. He nibbles ever so slightly making you whimper. It’s the first proper sound he’s gotten out of you and he is immediately on a mission for more.

“Fuck, baby, do you want this? Are you sure?” He is so out of breath as he asks the question but his voice is serious, he’s not fucking it up again.

“Yes Lew, so much, I need you, please.” You rush out, your voice already an embarrassing whine. If you weren’t so needy in that moment, you might find it in you to care, but all you care about is getting him exactly how you want him.

The second he hears your words he’s latching his lips back onto your throat and carrying you over to his bed. The grace with which he puts you down surprises you, you half expected to be thrown like a ball. His hands move under your pajama shirt, immediately finding your breast completely bare. His thumb brushes over your sensitive nipple, making you gasp. His lips find yours once again, his hands roaming every inch of your body they can reach, yours doing the same to him. You fumble to try and take his shirt off, making him chuckle as he pulls away to do it for you, him swiftly ridding you of your shirt as well. He pauses for a moment, his eyes locked to your chest and the hungry stare makes you want to cover up. As if he can tell he leans down, placing his lips across every inch of bare skin he can before latching his lips around one of your nipples. You can’t help but arch into him, feeling his smile against your chest as you do so. You let your hands wander the smooth skin of his back, feeling how his muscles flex as he adjusts himself to kiss a trail down your torso. When he reaches your waistband his eyes flick up to yours, silently asking if he can carry on.

“Please.” You sigh out, needing some sort of relief from how ridiculously worked up you are in that moment.

That's all he needs to hear before he’s pulling down your sleep shorts and your undies in one swift motion. Once you're bare, his eyes lock onto your heat, in a much similar way to how they did your chest earlier.

“So fucking perfect.” He says under his breath, his thumb moving to ever so slightly brush against your hip, making you squirm.

Finally his thumb makes its way to the bundle of nerves that are throbbing with desperation. His touch is so light you can barely feel it but it makes your hips buck up towards him. He takes that as a good sign, applying more pressure as he finally starts to move in tantalizing circles, the rest of his hand resting on your pubis.

“So wet, so ready, my god,” He mumbles as if to himself before speaking up, his voice raspy with lust, “Can I taste you baby? Been dying to for so long.”

“Oh my god, please.” You feel like you could cry from just how turned on you are.

The first flick of his tongue is teasing, nothing even close to what you’re in the mood for, you buck your hips up towards him, hoping he takes the hint. He immediately dives in, no room for teasing and taunting left. His head between your thighs is something you never anticipated witnessing, but now its all you ever want to see. He wastes no time in latching his mouth onto your sensitive nerves, making you cry out. His tongue laps in the most perfect rhythm that your positive nothing will ever be as satisfying again. His tongue travels everywhere and anywhere, searching for your most sensitive spots. He makes his journey further down, the strong muscle of his tongue teasing at your entrance, you gasp as you feel him push just the tip in, his nose coming down to meet your clit. He quickly begins fucking you with his tongue as he gently moves his head, creating just enough friction with the tip of his nose to have you a whimpering mess. You feel yourself starting to tense up, never having come so quick with any of your partners. He can feel it too. He quickly replaces his tongue with two thick fingers, his mouth coming up to suck your clit directly into his mouth.

“There ya’ go, give it to me pretty girl, let me see how good you look when you come. You taste so fucking good, never gonna get enough.” You look down to see his eyes locked directly on yours. You can see his bicep flexing with the movements he’s making inside of you and that combination has you coming undone, harder than you ever have before. All you can do is moan his name, you have no idea how loud you’re being but you truly couldn’t care less, the way he’s making you feel is second to none. You can feel his smirk as he works you down from your orgasm slowly, making sure you feel every ounce of it.

Before he’s even able to make his way all the way up your body, you’re reaching for the button of his pants. You need to feel him, and you need to feel him now.

“All in good time sweetheart.” He giggles, placing a soft kiss to your lips.

You can feel the dampness in his beard, his lips slick. He steps away from you, making you whine.

“So needy, give me a second and I’ll give you everything you need.” He teases you as he walks over to his bag. He grabs a condom and you can’t help but be grateful he at least has half a mind right now, you were ready to take him raw if it meant you could have him.

He finally lets you undo his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs. What you’re met with has your eyes going wide. He’s much larger than you could have even imagined. The thick vein running up his shaft looks lickable and you almost do exactly that before he’s laying you back once more, rolling the condom on.

“I’ll go slow, I promise.” He whispers reassuringly, evidently having caught your initial reaction.

When you feel the blunt tip press against you, you begin to rethink everything, there is absolutely no way you’ll be able to take him. He begins to ease into you slowly and it's the most indescribable feeling. You feel like you’re being split in two and put back together all at once. He somehow feels like an intrusion and your missing piece.

“Lew” You whimper out, clinging to him for dear life.

“Almost there baby, almost there,” His voice is soothing in your ear but you can hear the tension as he feels you for the first time, “you’re doing so good, so proud of you.”

The second he bottoms out, it's as if time has stopped. The two of you both let out deep groans, reveling in the feeling of finally being fully connected. Slowly the burning stretch turns into indescribable satisfaction. It feels like he was meant to be inside of you, the missing piece to the puzzle of your body. He stays still, letting you adjust to him as he peppers you with kisses. You can feel the tension in his shoulders, desperate to move, chase the high you’re both so desperate for. You don’t know how you find it in you but you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer and hoping he takes the hint that you need him to move just as much as he needs it. Slowly he pulls out of you, only half way, before burying himself in you again. He hits the perfect spot, making your toes clench with only one thrust. The groan he lets out is pornagraphic and you fight to make yourself look at him. The sight above you is what dreams are made of as he slowly starts to build a pace, testing the waters with what you like, evidently aiming to make sure you’re feeling just as good as he is. His lips are parted as if they’re ready to let out a moan at any given moment, his brow is furrowed in pleasure and concentration, his lust filled eyes boring down into yours.

“Fuck baby, you feel unreal.” He half groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, tracing his lips over the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Lew, more please.” You run your nails gently down his back, making him shiver.

“You want more?” His voice is taunting, challenging.

“Fuuuuck.” You draw out as his hips pick up their pace.

He brings one of his arms to rest on the headboard as he leverages himself to put more power behind his thrusts. All words have left your mind, your mouth open in a constant gasp, no sound capable of escaping you any longer. He takes one of your legs, resting it over his shoulder as he pushes himself down on to you, his body weight suffocating in the best way. Somehow he’s even deeper this way and it makes you whimper, the tension mounting in your belly. You can tell you're almost there. His grunts and groans have quickly become your new favorite soundtrack as they edge you closer and closer to your release. His hips have picked up their pace even more and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge. When his hand slips down to toy with your clit you find yourself letting out a moan much louder than you should have. He brings his lips to yours, attempting to quiet you. This kiss is useless, just two open mouths, sharing each others sounds of pleasure.

“Fuck I love you.” He breathes out, you can tell he didn’t mean to say it but the second you hear it you need to hear it a million more times. Your stomach tightening at the phrase falling from his lips

“Say it again.” You just about whine.

He hesitates for a moment, his hips faltering before finding his pace again, “I love you.” This time with much more conviction.

“Again.” You moan, so close to your high.

“Fuck Y/N, I love you, I love you, so fucking much.” He rambles, connecting your lips when he feels you reach your peak.

You’re not prepared, it crashes over you like a tsunami, you tighten around him so hard he struggles to move, to fuck you through it. You’re beyond grateful that he’s as determined as he is because he keeps you at your peak longer than you even knew possible, your vision blurring and your ears ringing. You feel him tense, uncoordinated thrusts as he finally spills into the condom. His breathing is hard as he collapses against you like the best weighted blanket imaginable. He’s pressing soft kisses to your throat as you do your best to come back to earth. You can feel him slowly softening inside of you and it just feels right, the two of you being connected.

"So much for taking it slow, hmm?" His voice is tired but teasing.

"Oh fuck off." Is the first thing you say to him as you come back into yourself, making him chuckle

It takes him a few moments before he disconnects from you, much to your dismay, wincing as he pulls out.

“M’sorry, one second.” He says softly, pecking your lips before moving to discard the condom and get you a rag.

He cleans you with such care, so gentle, you feel your heart lurch. It’s rare that you’ve been with a guy who takes such care afterwards. When he’s finally done he joins you back in bed, moving you both under the covers.

“No arguments, you’re staying right here.” He mumbles before you can object and try to go back to your own room, which you assume will no longer be needed.

“Hey Lewis?” You prompt hesitantly as he pulls you against his chest, hiking your leg up over his hips.

“I meant it, have for so long it hurts.” He answers you without you even having to ask, knowing what you’re questioning.

You lift your head to meet his, looking at him through the pale moonlight flooding the room.

“I love you too.” You whisper before leaning it to meet his lips.

"Say it again." He mumbles against your lips, a smile spreading across both of your faces as he mimics your words from earlier.

"I love you so fucking much Lewis Hamilton." You giggle as he pulls you impossibly close to him, latching his lips on to yours.

You don’t know how long you stay there kissing him but you’re not sure you disconnected before you fell asleep. All you know is that as you lay there, enjoying his affection, you knew you had made the right decision. You will never lose Lewis and now you have the rest of your life to enjoy a whole new journey with him.

[ivymarquis]

An Honest Woman

Pairing| Gaz x F!Reader, Soap x F!Reader, Ghost x F!Reader, Price x F!Reader, All x Reader Rating| M Word Count| ~700 Kinks/Content/Warnings| The author wants to write a gangbang fic but suffers from “I have to explain why they’re fucking”-itis. Each guy will get his own chapter and then an epilogue with the gangbang. This is the prequel/set up to the premise. (Just the 141 guys Alejandro is not involved this is just the only gif I could find with all 4 of the 141 guys lmao) This is some toxic shenanigans on the reader’s part BUT no cheating on reader’s end ayo

“What would you do if you found out I cheated on you?” Her (unbeknownst to either of them) soon-to-be ex boyfriend asks.

She blinks, already deciding she doesn’t particularly like this question.

“I dunno. Probably fuck your chain of command.” If he is stupid enough to try and get his lick in, she’ll get hers back.

But he isn’t a stupid man, and she is content that this is just a random question in the same vein as her asking him if he’d love her if she was a worm.

It’s a smartass answer to what she foolishly assumes is a tongue-in-cheek question. Who the fuck asks something like that and is serious about it?

Much like she doesn’t like the question, he does not like the answer.

Rather than rolling with it like she did, his reaction is immediate. “Is that really fucking necessary? Glad to know I’m with a class act.” The question snaps harshly at her.

Hm. Well, things have been too peaceful for too long lately, haven’t they? She supposes they’re overdue for a blow up.

There’s a part of her that realizes it’s not good that she’s so ambivalent about this. She should care, in some direction, that her boyfriend is blowing up at her. She should either be pissed beyond all belief that he’s mad about a situation he fabricated, or be sad that he’s mad at her. Something.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” is all she says before standing up. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” I’m not dealing with your shit tonight is the part she doesn’t say out loud.

“Fuck you, I don’t have to deal with this.” He snaps at her, jerking to his feet and hurrying out the door.

Why the fuck does she put up with him, again?

He’s been doing this shit a lot lately. Picking a fight, and blowing up; whether she rises to the bait or not. It’s like he’s desperate for any reason to justify walking out on her in the middle of the night.

The most telling part about their dynamic is that she doesn’t really even care.

She’s got her suspicions about what all he is up to when he storms out; once or twice, she believes him when he says he went drinking with his buddies. But when it becomes a several-times-a-week occurrence?

She sees the writing on the wall.

“It’s like you don’t even fucking care anymore!”

She doesn’t. Not really.

Her total ambivalence to anything he does is testimate enough to the fact that she’s done with the relationship.

She just needs to get her shit sorted so she can move out and state the obvious; tell him that she’s over it.

Maybe she’s being cold hearted, but she didn’t just wake up one day and decide she doesn’t love him anymore. It’s every little miscommunication and dissonance that neither of them took the time to mend. Eventually that shit piles up and one day she looks at him and doesn’t feel the affection that she used to. There’s no flutter in her stomach or heat in her groin. He’s just there.

Really she shouldn’t be surprised when a few days later she finds an open condom wrapper mixed in with the laundry. Which, considering she hasn’t slept with him in over a week, pretty much solidifies that he’s a cheating prick.

Okay. Fine. He can’t say she didn’t warn him.

It’s pride and ego and spite that makes her act out. She doesn’t have any attachment to him at this point but it’s the principle of the matter. He doesn’t get to act like this and expect to be free of repercussions.

And- well; if she’s being perfectly honest he’s a lackluster lay at best.

When she was in love and being wooed and he was coming home to her and sweet talking in her ear it didn’t particularly matter that he treated her like a living fleshlight. Relationships can take compromise and he’d been checking enough boxes she has been willing to acquise on the good sex one.

Now? There’s no affection to keep her warm at night and she is simmering with pent up energy.

A very simple I’m fucking done. We’re over text, paired with a picture of the wrapper, is frankly more than he deserves at this point, but even she’s got a line she won’t cross and cheating is firmly on the other side of it.

And she knows exactly who she’s going to start with to knock the rust off.

[rorywritesjunk]

No longer locked upon the land but free on the rolling waves

You and Buggy come face to face with himself from the past, and while you’re fully accepting that this is your husband as a child, Buggy doesn’t want to accept it.

Rating: PG-13ish, but just due to some swearing.

Warning: Upset kid, upset husband. Reader is way too nice, doesn’t necessarily take husband’s feelings into account as well. This chapter had one of my favorite moments between the Reader and Kid Buggy which was mentioned in the request, and it was a part I wanted to make sure I got just right.

A/N: A combined request. I did a few versions of this story before feeling like it hit the marks I was wanting to hit. Also, I’m just trying to vibe off what I’ve seen of Kid Buggy. I’m no expert. I’d protect that kid with my life. He’s so adorable. I also like the trope of “Meeting your self from another time” and “gets turned back into kid-self”. This is the former, and I know shit about time travel but I just kind of made something up. Also, kelpies. Are they in One Piece? I honestly don’t know but I love kelpies and needed an excuse to mention them. Additional notes: Holy cow, thank you to everyone who's been reading this! I read every comment and tag and it warms my heart so much. I meant for this to be multi-chapter from the start, but I want to give a heads up that this is a short fic, probably no more than 5 chapters but I'm almost thinking of writing more on Buggy and his wife because I've liked what I started with them and have already been thinking of their story. Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6/Epilogue TAGLIST (just let me know if you want to be added!): @lostfirefly @misadventures0fdes @sylum @valen-yamyam16 @dohkyu @fluffybunnyu @skyofsteel @lavalampskyy

Chapter 3

Everything was going great after breakfast for a little bit. The kid was fine to follow you around to help you with your own chores, which right now was collecting anything that needed mending or washing. You had Buggy carry the basket of mending while you made your way across the deck and to the kitchen. The crew was out on deck, and while word got around of some kind of shape shifter on board (your husband was still not happy about your guest), this was the first time most of them were seeing their captain as a child. The kid ignored the staring as long as he could, but you could see it was getting to him.

The final straw was when you watched a crewman lean over to another, hearing him whisper, “He even has the big nose.”

You both heard it because no sooner did he finish his sentence that Buggy dropped the basket he was carrying and rushed over to the crewman, delivering a kick to his crotch. The crewman fell to the ground in pain and you managed to grab Buggy before he could kick him in the face, though a part of you wanted to allow it to happen.

“Don’t talk about my nose!” He shrieked, fighting against you as you hauled him away to the kitchen. You passed the captain on the way, giving him a look as you pulled the kid along. Your husband stood there, confused for a moment before turning to see the crewman on the ground. What just happened?

You sat Buggy down on a chair and knelt in front of him. It was a little surprising to see him crying. You expected more anger, shouting, maybe some punches being thrown. You shouldn’t have been surprised, though. He was a kid with kid emotions. Big fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he clenched his fists. He rubbed his eyes, sniffling loudly.

“I th-thought I was the captain.” He choked out; you reached for one of the napkins left on the table from breakfast and put your hand on his cheek as you gently wiped the tears away. “Why would th-they talk about my nose?”

Your heart broke from that question. As an adult, your husband was still sensitive about his nose, had been since you first met him, but you couldn’t imagine going through childhood with those insecurities. And the fact you explained earlier that he became the captain of this ship just to have someone on the crew mention it so cruelly? It was horrible. 

“Because some of them are idiots.” You told him as you draped the napkin over your shoulder. “And I’ll throw them overboard once I make sure you’re okay. Now, do you want a hug?”

To your surprise he nodded, so you opened your arms and he fell into them, letting his head rest on your shoulder. You sat back on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you as you held him on your lap, rubbing his back slowly as he still sniffled. 

“So… did I miss something?”

You looked back toward the door and sighed when you saw your husband standing there. Kid Buggy ignored him, sniffling as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. You tightened your hold on the kid as you turned your attention back to him.

“One of your crewmen should be thrown overboard, Captain.” You told him, voice calm as you reached up to remove Kid Buggy’s hat so you could stroke his hair. He closed his eyes when you did that, relaxing in your embrace. You knew your husband liked having his hair stroked when he was upset, and you were pleased the kid was no different. “They need to learn when to keep their mouths shut.”

“Huhh…” Adult Buggy scratched the back of his head as he watched the scene in front of him. It was… weird but nice to see you comforting the kid like that. He didn’t remember ever really having that growing up. You were holding the kid so lovingly, not caring that your shirt was getting covered in tears and snot from him being so upset. 

“I’m sorry that idiot talked about your nose, sweetie.” You murmured to the kid in your arms, hugging him tighter. “It wasn’t right of him to do that.” 

Buggy stood there for another few minutes, watching you with him. You even gave the kid a forehead kiss, which the kid seemed fine with. He looked like he felt safe in your arms, and Buggy would know, having been there himself many times when he needed to feel safe and loved. It was just frustrating that he had to wait until meeting you to feel that way, having not ever really had that as a kid on a ship. Yet here you were, by chance now holding his kid self in your arms and comforting him when he was upset. Others would have just laughed about it, telling him to get over it, but you were apologetic to him and it wasn’t your fault it happened.

“Which one?” Adult Buggy asked; you looked up at him. “Which one said it?”

“The one that was on the ground, crying.” You replied as you rubbed Kid Buggy’s back gently. “Throw him overboard.”

Oh, he wouldn’t refuse a request like that from you. He stormed out of the kitchen, and as you tilted the kid’s face up, looking for more tears, you both heard a scream and a splash. You smiled and put your hand on his cheek, thumb stroking gently. You didn’t hear the captain return, but he remained quiet, watching from the doorway.

“No one else is going to say anything like that to you again on this ship, sweetie.” You assured him. “You’re safe with me, okay? I’ll hurt anyone who is mean to you, promise.”

“Okay…” Kid Buggy let his head drop back on your shoulder, sighing as he relaxed. You smiled and hugged him.

“Listen, I think your nose is cute.” You told him; he made a face and glanced up at you. “When I met my husband, it was the first thing I noticed about him and when I told him he was handsome he turned as red as his nose. I thought it was sweet, and to this day I still think it’s endearing.” You giggled at the face the kid was giving you. “What? I swear. I sometimes compliment him just to see how red he’ll get. It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

“You’re so evil.” Your husband grumbled, startling the two of you.  Grinning, you turned to look at him, only to laugh when you saw him glaring at you so you just blew a kiss at him. “Are you saying you only love me for my nose?”

“One of the reasons.” You chuckled. “I also love how passionate you are, and how much you love me. Though your impulsiveness still catches me off guard sometimes, I can appreciate it.”

“I’m not impulsive!”

“You threw Buggy off the ship into the water just yesterday.” You reminded him. To your delight, your husband began to turn red in the face. “But you also stole me flowers a week ago because you saw me wearing a pink dress and you liked how they matched.”

“I’m about to throw you overboard.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as he looked away, his face burning. You knew there was no threat to be had, he just said those things when he was feeling a little too much love from you. Buggy sighed heavily, shoulders dropping. Maybe he would regret offering this, but he was starting to feel a little better about this whole ordeal. “Kid, do you want a proper tour of the ship? I’m pretty sure you’re not a kelpie or anything else, so I think it’s safe for you to see everything.”

Kid Buggy made a face. He had already been around the ship with you, but you nudged him gently. This was at least a start. You wanted the kid to see what he grew up to become. “It’s okay, I think it’ll be fun for the two of you.”

“Can you come with me?” He asked you, clearly not wanting to be too far from you. It was sometimes difficult to think of a child as young as him being on a ship. You just wanted to hold him in your arms forever and protect him from anything that would hurt him, but that wasn’t realistic. Swallowing heavily, you nodded and he stood up from your lap, crossing his arms as he looked at the captain. “Promise you won’t throw me overboard?”

“Don’t give me a reason to.” Adult Buggy shot back, but you gave him that look and he immediately backtracked. “But I’ll fish you out if I accidentally knock you into the water.”

The kid seemed okay with that answer. You got to your feet and smoothed out Kid Buggy’s hair, it was a little smooshed from being against your shoulder. You handed him his hat back next, but when he didn’t take it you put it on his head for him. He made a face when you did that, and all you could do was giggle. You had seen that glare so much recently that you could only find it silly at this point.

The Captain rolled his eyes and started out of the kitchen while Kid Buggy took your hand and followed after him. You let him lead you, and once you caught up to your husband you linked arms with him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He looked away when you did that, mumbling something about needing to uphold an image around the crew. You weren’t really sure what that image was but you didn’t say anything. Once you got to the helm of the ship, the captain pulled away from you and in a dramatic and flashy fashion, spun around and threw his arms open, gesturing wildly to the kid.

“THIS! Is my ship!” He announced to Kid Buggy. “We are the Buggy Pirates, the fiercest and most dangerous crew on the East Blue! No one survives a meeting with us!”

You watched the entire interaction in amusement. The kid was getting into it, mouth running a million miles a minute as he asked Buggy question after question about everything. How long has he been a captain? What was it like being so feared? Was he going to become the next King of the Pirates, for real? 

It was cute and you trailed after them as Buggy led him down below to where some ammo was stored. The Buggy Balls concerned you a little bit, you didn’t want them to fire one off into the town on purpose or accident, and thankfully your husband did not offer a demonstration (though you thought you heard him say something along the lines of “we’ll fire one after the wife’s asleep”) of their destructive power. 

And your husband was eating up the attention from the kid. Adult Buggy was proud to talk about his accomplishments, flashy battles, everything and Kid Buggy was listening with fascination, occasionally looking at you for confirmation that he was being told the truth, and you’d just nod in agreement with whatever your husband was saying.

Once the three of you returned to the deck, Kid Buggy’s attention went to the Jolly Roger on the ship, looking at it in awe. It had a nose like his and people were scared when they saw that flag. That was so cool. With the brief distraction, you gave your husband a kiss on the cheek. 

“I love you, Buggy.” You said, smiling at him as he put his arm around you and tugged you closer. You were happy that the two seemed to be on even footing now. The kid was sassy, of course, but at least your husband didn’t even attempt to throw him overboard during their entire interaction this time. And it was nice to see your husband excited to show off his legacy to someone, even if it was to his child self. It looked like things were getting a bit easier between the two of them.

Looked like. Because no sooner did you think that, Kid Buggy came back to you two with a frown on his face. You immediately thought something was wrong, wondering if someone insulted him again, but he crossed his arms and looked up at Adult Buggy. 

“Where’s Shanks?” Kid Buggy asked. “As a grownup. Why isn’t he on this ship too?”

Oh shit. You looked at your husband. He stormed away last time he was asked that question, but this time he stood his ground, probably because you were right there beside him. His hand was on your shoulder, you reached up to touch it gently. The look on Adult Buggy’s face was a mix of anger and sadness, and you wondered if you needed to butt in and change the subject, but he finally spoke.

“His life went in another direction.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “He’s not on this ship, he’s on his own.”

“What?” Kid Buggy frowned. “We’re not co-captains or anything?” He paused, looked at you then looked back at his adult self. “Are we still friends?”

The innocent question was a stab to your heart, but you couldn’t even imagine what it was like for Adult Buggy. His expression was unchanged, trying to think of a kid-friendly way to explain what happened, but was it right to tell him everything? Weren't there rules about this kind of thing, you don’t eat a butterfly in the past or something or it would change the future? Telling the kid his future was one thing, but about relationships? If he told Kid Buggy how his friendship fell apart, the betrayal, the hurt, could it end up that he changes this kid’s future, and in turn his own? What if he doesn’t become a captain, get his own ship? What if he didn’t meet you?

Adult Buggy took a deep breath before slowly exhaling. He didn’t know how to answer, but he had to say something. Both you and the kid were looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

“He has his own ship.” Buggy repeated. “That’s all.”

Then he pulled away from you and walked away from the two of you, leaving you worried and Kid Buggy confused by the answer.

[nekropsii]

In your opinion, do you think the clown cult aspects of homestuck can be salvaged? I have a few purple blooded fantrolls but I’ve been struggling a bit on how to include that bit of worldbuilding into their backstories, especially since iirc friendsim implied that it’s something that applies to all purple bloods rather than the way homestuck described it (which has its own Issues anyway thanks to Hussie writing the Makaras Like That)

Hiveswap is not rigidly canon and your life will be better once you acknowledge Hiveswap, Pesterquest, The Epilogues, and Homestuck^2 as the exact same thing as the Paradox Space comics- fun supplementary material that doesn’t take place within the confines of the comic and is only canon in your head if you want it to be. This is what “Dubiously Canon” means. It means it is not canon unless you specifically want it to be canon in your specific idea of Homestuck as a concept.

So Hiveswap shouldn’t really be accounted for when discussing Homestuck’s worldbuilding as a baseline.

That said, in Homestuck, the Juggalo Cult is canonically incredibly fucking niche and Gamzee is a freak weirdo for being in it. Due to the way the whole thing plays out, I think it’s pretty impossible to detach from the Makaras and their general… Dicey-ness. I don’t really look at people sideways if they do it, though- for some reason, it’s a popular misconception that Gamzee was, like, totally normal for being into that cult and every Purpleblood ever is inexplicably also in it. It’s to a point where I kinda just have to accept it.

If you really want to avoid the vibes, you can just not make them a part of a Juggalo Cult. It’s pretty easy to do that. Hell, it’s easy to do that and still have them in some kind of stupid makeup. They can be in a cult that has its followers wear actual clown makeup, or mime makeup, or corpse paint. Maybe everyone’s in drag all the time. I don’t fucking know. There’s infinite possibilities in this world.

[bestworstcase]

Given the time/resources and presuming that there isn't unknown elements to setup how would you handle

A. The Reveal that Summer Rose is alive and Working with Taiyang

B. What Taiyang has been doing that is so important he's not in Vacuo?

if i were the one writing this story there is no force on earth that could stop me from doing the reveal like—well for the purpose of this hypothetical let’s pretend “time/resources” included that the 9.12 animatic did not get cut at the eleventh hour but the original 9.11 did, such that v9 is exactly the same except for the storyboard epilogue being a completed eleventh episode. given that, in my hands:

v10 cold opens in the midst of salem’s assault on vale, narrowly focused on glynda’s point of view. we use this to establish the basic sequence of events leading to that refugee ship arriving in vale, glynda and other defenders are holding the line, raven portals in to inform her grimly that patch’s defenses are falling and the ship is leaving now, she maybe expects glynda to flee with her, glynda instead thinks: mountain glenn. we might have a fighting chance there. and then sends raven to make sure the refugees make it to safety.

the remainder of episode 1 is about rwbyj getting caught up with everything. ruby has questions she wants to ask raven about summer, but she’s not forgotten how raven reacted the last time ruby reminded her of summer, and also everything else is so much, so she has a team huddle with yang about it. yang meanwhile is feeling… some way about raven being here because a) why wasn’t yang a good enough reason to stay before she ‘died’ but also b) she doesn’t not want raven to be here, so…? it’s complicated.

which leads to: yang is the one who bites the bullet to ask raven about summer. (probably not in 10.1, this is a 10.2 or 10.3 conversation depending on how high the heat is with the crown. i haven’t thought deeply about this but my impulse is to say we use 10.1 to establish what the situation is, in 10.2 we play the schnee family reunion off some sort of skirmish or setback involving the crown, 10.3 yang takes a stab at talking to raven.

now. yang is smart. and she’s had a few days to observe raven—i think she’d want some time to process mom is here? and helping?! before actually trying to have a conversation. she knows what ruby saw in the tree, and how raven reacted when ruby reminded her of summer, and what raven said in mistral.

“she lied—she left with raven!?”

versus, the truth is that truth is hard to come by, and you need to question everything, and your father and qrow are blind fools for trusting ozpin. and also: i’ve stared death in the face over and over again and every time i’ve spat in that face and survived, while raven all but choked back tears. because i’m strong enough to do what others won’t.

and yang also knows, because salem herself told them, that summer’s last mission—the one where she left with raven—brought her face-to-face with salem.

it does not take a genius to put two and two together, here. yang figures that either:

raven sold out summer to save herself, or

summer lied to raven, too

or maybe both, and either way this is an extremely sore subject—one she maybe shouldn’t start prodding right off the bat. luckily(?) there’s a safer goliath in this room she can start with instead.

where’s dad?

like, qrow told the girls tai’s “on assignment,” but little else. it seemed like he didn’t know the details, either. raven has a bond to tai—she must know where he is, right? (right, says raven, reluctantly.)

where is he? in vale. still.

if he’s trying to evacuate the ones who got left behind, why couldn’t qrow just tell us that? he’s…………not doing that.

then why isn’t he here?

<- raven does not want to fucking touch the answer to this question with a twelve foot pole, and narratively the reason we open the question like this is so that raven’s abandonment of yang—first as a small child, and then again at haven—can derail the conversation the instant raven starts squirming. probably it does not go super well from here; raven clams up, yang’s resentment and hurt come flooding out again, maybe they have another shouting match, maybe yang in the heat of the moment throws an accusation re: summer that makes raven go deer in headlights before bolting. or maybe something explodes outside the academy (figuratively or otherwise) and they have to drop it and rush to put out the proverbial fire. whatever happens, things are left unresolved.

in 10.4 we skip back just a few months. vale hasn’t fallen yet. it’s late. snowing maybe. hooded figure (a dark cloak, not white—nondescript grey or brown, maybe black, she’s keeping a low profile) is standing at summer’s grave, alone. replaying the recording of ruby’s broadcast. i hope amity tower will help bring us all together. because in the end, that’s how we’ll win—

emergency broadcast screen. static. hooded figure lowers the scroll. stares at her grave for a moment. and then from the woods behind her, salem: she sounds… just like her mother.

hooded figure startles and as she’s turning around, says bitterly: i guess it’s like they say; like mother, like daughter.

we hear her voice before we see her face, so there’s one last split second for denial and disbelief (that can’t really be her, no, what, what!?) before salem slinks out of the shadows and summer pulls her hood down and smiles wanly and is plainly not a corrupt hollowed out grimm shell of herself.

and then we do the “what happened in atlas, no i’ve not found the vault (tai doesn’t know anything 😒), salem cautiously sharing that ruby and yang ‘fell’” conversation. cinder isn’t here either implicitly or explicitly because salem isn’t sure how badly summer will take the news. to really double-underline where we’re going with this summer echoes the sentiment if not the exact words of ruby’s inspiring speech to oscar in the dojo scene; she is scared, she is hurt, but the gods intend to kill everyone, so she will not turn aside. no matter what.

(that’s the funny thing about the unserious edgy ‘ruby villain arc’ and semi-serious ‘salem fallen hero’ stuff stirred up by all the anvil-sized ruby-salem parallelism going on in v9, isn’t it? summer rose is imminent.)

anyway from there we toggle back and forth between what is now an agonizing boil of dramatic irony (they don’t know their mom is with salem) intermixed with enigma (how did this happen. why did this happen. what the HELL does raven know–) against the backdrop of burgeoning civil war in vacuo, and peeling back the outer layers of salem’s psyche against the backdrop of her search for the crown and preparation to force the coalition to risk use of the sword in vale, while tai realizes too late that he might be a boiled frog and cinder doing her level best to wring every concession she can get out of salem.

in my hands the vale storyline remains in the past relative to the vacuo storyline such that it is an inevitable build toward razing vale: we know it’s going to happen, we know there’s a span of a couple weeks, maybe even a month, between atlas falling and the sack of vale, and in this part of the narrative we’re very abruptly wrenched into salem’s side of this war—she doesn’t arrive in vale with the intention of razing it and her arc in v10 is about how and why she comes to that course of action.

and then at the end of the volume we bookend the assault on vale from the other side—cinder’s and summer’s and salem’s perspectives, tai maybe getting corralled into the mountain glenn undercity with everyone else—and play that against the climactic confrontation with the crown in vacuo to set the stage for v11.

[trying-to-get-somewhere-real]

AO3 Wrapped 2024

saw @droughtofapathy's version of this and was inspired to do my own - this was my first year writing fic, and i thought i would just do one little thing and be done with it, but have now written 6 fics! and am excited to keep at it and continue to improve/write longer works. huge huge thanks to @ensorcei, who has been my beta and biggest cheerleader (and also encouraged me to do this wrapped post!)

Works published: 6

Word count: 34,398

Kudos: 115

Hits: 884

Bookmarks: 8

Subscriptions: 7 (if user subs); 1 (if work subs)

Most popular by kudos: Some Things Are Singular (29 kudos) - this was my very first fic, and I think a lot of people just wanted to support me getting into fic writing. Everything I've written after this is better in my opinion.

Most hits: A Craving, Not A Crush (191 hits) - turns out if you write something with more than one chapter you will get more hits?

Longest: A Gem Among Pebbles is the technically correct answer, at 10,502 words. However, it was a collaboration with two other writers, and I only wrote about 1,200 words of it. The more accurate answer is Love Is A Ring, The Telephone at 6,706 words.

Shortest: Two People Staring (2,647 words)

Most comments: Some Things Are Singular (12 comments) - like I said above, a lot of people wanted to support me on my first fic, and that's why I think it's the most commented, despite not being the best.

Favorite comment: I never thought I would write smut and then found myself giving it a go with Love Is A Ring, The Telephone and was so nervous about how it came out, and one of my very favorite Hacks writers @skatehepburn (who is an incredible writer of smut) left me this comment, and it single-handedly made me believe I could keep writing this kind of thing:

I AM SO PROUD OF YOU 😭😭😭😭 I famously LOVE a phone sex fic and this is no exception! "She shouldn’t have been surprised that Blanche was interrupting her before she could even get a full sentence out, but she always gave Blanche the benefit of the doubt, even when—perhaps especially when—Blanche least deserved it. " ahhhhh this is such a good distillation of their whole deallll "“When I sit across the table from her at dinner, I don’t think about what it would feel like to have her mouth on me.”" THIS IS THE MOMENT I SAID THIS SMUT IS FOR ME Blanche being a little bit subby??? SO SPECIAL ugh i love when characters have to SAY OUT LOUD why they're so gone on each other, it never gets old 🥲 may this be the start of a long and illustrious smut-peddling career for you 🫡

Also, these are not public, but @ensorcei gives me detailed feedback on my drafts that always counts as my favorite comments, and her seeing my development over each fic really kept me going the entire year.

Fics that made me cry: I famously do not cry at fics, and so even though it was published in 2019 (and I read it in 2019, not 2024), I must always hype the only fic that ever made me cry, @beauregardslionetts's Nothing But Strawberries, which is possibly the most famous fic in the Vanity fandom for very good reason.

Fics that made me smile: The Art of a Perfect Epilogue by silasfinch; and Don't you leave me this way by Imagine_rhetoric both because I really enjoyed both of the fics themselves and also because, before this, I had basically recruited all of the writers for this fandom and these two came out of nowhere. The surprise of two unexpected fics, and the knowledge that these two writers saw what I saw in this pairing, completely independently of me, made me smile so big. Really grateful they published in this fandom and would love to see more from them!

Gifts: An incredible thing about the Blanche/Judith fandom is that like 80%+ fics written (that I did not write myself) are gifts for me. More of those gifts were written in 2022-2023, but this year that included:

Buried Sweetly in Her Yellow Hair by @droughtofapathy

The Art of a Perfect Epilogue by silasfinch

Gifts I've Given: I wrote the first chapter of A Craving, Not A Crush very quickly on a whim as a gift for friend on Twitter who was doing her dissertation defense shortly thereafter. It was a great lesson in embracing the motivation when it comes and sticking to a short deadline!

Love Is A Ring, The Telephone was a gift for @ensorcei and @dkc2017

Collaborations: Just before the end of the year, I, along with @sapphicscholar, helped add a few final scenes to A Gem Among Pebbles, primarily written by @dkc2017, to bring the fic to the world. I love these two writers more than I can possibly express and I am so happy this fic is out there for anyone to read now. The best fics are those that remind you of why you love a pairing and both of my co-authors did that for me.

Events: N/A

Word count read: I am not doing math for this but I didn't actually read that much fic this year because I was concentrating on writing and didn't really get into any new ships. But I did read everything @sapphicscholar wrote for Hacks so that's at least ~100k words.

Bookmarks: I didn't bookmark anything this year because I didn't really read too much this year! But I will use this space to plug my favorite non-blanchejudith fic of the year, Folie à Deux, which is an incredibly ambitious and brilliant Ava/Deb X-Files AU by @sapphicscholar.

[jessamine-rose]

✿⚘❁⚘❀ Astilbe ❀⚘❁⚘✿

Fufufu after all these months, here’s another Herbarium epilogue with more dark fluff and comfort. It was nostalgic to write for Capitano and his darling again (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, psychological trauma, Stockholm Syndrome

♡ 1.2k words under the cut ♡

The astilbe’s beauty has faded.

The pressed flowers are only a phantom of the radiant clusters you picked weeks ago. The petals have lost their brilliance. The feathery plumes have been reduced to flat shapes.

This is a natural consequence of preservation, one which occurs to all of your flowers. So why do you feel particularly mournful for the astilbe?

Maybe the flowers aren’t the problem. Rather, it’s you.

Your wedding ring twinkles on your index finger, an unavoidable sight. The sculpted flowers serve as a constant reminder of your marital status, disregarding the fact that you and your captor never had an official ceremony.

Capitano…what time will he be home? You usually accompany him to Zapolyarny Palace but he decided against it today. Important business, he claimed.

Nonetheless, he treated you so kindly before his departure. He’d given your new guard a stern warning which, even in his formal tone, sounded more like a death threat. You received a soft kiss, some new books, a promise of his immediate return.

Your life has never been happier. So why are you still plagued with your bad days?

You are used to this feeling, the ever-present melancholy which has haunted you even before you met Capitano—those hours spent trapping flowers in your notebook, escaping reality through storybooks, reliving memories better left forgotten. Perhaps it is your subconscious upset with you, the double curse of your self-awareness and resignation.

How can you believe in his love, knowing it is a twisted delusion?

Despite this, you’ve never smiled more since the day you accepted your fate.

Since meeting Capitano, you even remembered how to cry. Compared to your past tears and “tantrums,” the action feels oddly cathartic nowadays. Like a call for help finally answered by your own devoted knight.

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupts your thoughts.

Your husband is home.

The door opens. Capitano enters the room.

“______, is everything well?”

“Capitano.” You leave your desk and meet him halfway. “Did you mi—how was work? You arrived earlier than usual.”

He feels warm. You lean into his embrace, letting him be the first to pull away. His hands remain on your waist.

“The new recruits show potential.” He looks down at you, face hidden by his mask. After a short pause, he adds, “Did you take kindly to Sergeant Naiad?”

“Cyane was all right,” you reply, shrugging. “They just kept quiet and watched me from a distance. They are nothing like Ceres, if that is what you’re asking.”

The change in his tone isn’t lost on you. “That is acceptable. Should they infringe on your personal boundaries, inform me at once.”

Is that even necessary? He already has his spies to monitor your behavior.

Your notebook is still open to the astilbe. Capitano walks over to your desk, keeping one hand on the small of your back.

“I presume that your astilbe has been fully preserved.” He taps the corner of the page, careful not to touch the pink and white flowers.

You make no motion to retrieve it. “Yes. They’re…not as pretty as when I first saw them. Or maybe that’s just my perception.”

He turns to face you. “If you desire more astilbe, we may revisit the botanical garden.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Shouldn’t this be enough? What more must he do for you?

“Which flowers do you want?” You return to your chair, feeling a familiar stab of guilt. “I’ll let you pick first this time.”

“My darling, what troubles you?”

Huh?

Capitano caresses your cheek this time.

“You are in low spirits,” he observes. Anger creeps into his tone, faint yet palpable. “Did you tell me the truth about Sergeant Naiad?”

You quickly nod. “I was! I just feel…it’s nothing, really! Nothing worth your trouble.”

He remains adamant. “I would be an inattentive husband if I fail to care for my wife.”

What kind of expression is on his face? Even with his face concealed, you don’t want to look at him. Anything to prevent him from perceiving your distress.

From your peripheral vision, an image catches your attention—a framed drawing on your desk, illustrated by the same artist who painted the family portrait in your living room.

-

“Such an odd couple,” they muttered.

You had to agree with them. With his mask and fine armor, Capitano was an intimidating subject. You, on the other hand, looked small and delicate in your lacy gown. But your close physical contact left no doubt that the two of you belonged to the same picture.

The artist spent more time on you. They took a while to capture your face, describing your gaze as a dim mystery. You didn’t mind; it meant more time in your husband’s arms.

During a short break, you faced Capitano to chat with him. That was when the artist froze, staring at you with renewed interest. A silent look from the former, however, was all it took for them to fearfully return to their canvas.

The finished portrait came with a small pencil sketch. You were looking at Capitano with bright eyes and a fond smile, unrecognizable even to yourself.

-

“______?” He holds your hand. His own ring twinkles above your interlocked fingers.

“I…It’s not important,” you insist. Despite yourself, you feel your heart racing for reasons not borne from fear. “I’ve dealt with this before. The issue will go away on its own.”

Foolish girl. Since when was your captor one to leave you alone?

Ever the patient man, Capitano kneels down to meet your gaze.

“One word from you, and I will do everything in my power to alleviate your sorrows,” he tells you. The soft declaration is juxtaposed by his firm grasp on your hand. “How could I be at peace when my beloved flower is in pain?”

Words fail you. You stare at your lap, gripping the armrest with your free hand. It is his next words, spoken with quiet resolution, which spell your defeat.

“But if you refuse to smile, that is also acceptable. I will stay by your side regardless.”

You give up.

At first, Capitano tenses when you throw your arms around him. The hesitation which follows—the way he carefully reciprocates your hug, measuring his strength…it only tugs at your heartstrings all the more.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Your eyes feel damp; are you crying? Your tears don’t match your mood at all.

What is there to worry about? Time and time again, your husband has proven his unwavering devotion to you.

Why should you torture yourself with the truth of your marriage? Freedom is nothing compared to this false happily ever after.

Who cares about the astilbe? You already have the most beautiful, eternal flowers wrapped around your finger.

Capitano’s heartbeat is comforting. He traps you in his embrace, rubbing circles on your back. You don’t need to see past his mask to know what tender emotions lie in his gaze.

“You’re welcome,” he says. He lifts your wrist to his mask, imparting a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I feel a bit better thanks to you.”

♡

Side Story ๑ More Epilogues ๑ Another Comfort Fic

A few months ago, I started this fic cuz I was sad. And now that I’m less sad, I decided to finish it and cry over Capitano again. Aahh he and Damsel always put me in a soft mood TvT

Once again, thank you to @diodellet for your support as my bestie and peer reviewer. Last year, she actually wrote her own Herbarium-inspired comfort fic which I beta-read and linked above. Her smut is amazing and well-written, so pls check it out <3

Do share your thoughts on this fic!! And if you read the teaser for Astilbe, look at me in the eye and tell me that the Captain isn’t the best at comforting his darling ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @nicebonescomrades @harmonysanreads @ansy-tea @leftdestiny-posts @thescribeoflostmemories @kocherry @gum-iie @oofasleep @shumidehiro @ryo-ri @dulcetthorns @lambdrop @uhhhh-hi-im-sorry-for-this @the-dreaming-city @lyra-mew @yanmaresu @frogchiro @lcveaesop @micchikari

[river-of-wine]

I know I’ve been talking about Molly and Abigail a lot but I love them and people are way too mean to them, and when I see people blaming them for things such as the failure of the bank robbery all I can think is this. Do you really think that the game wants you to dislike Molly and Abigail? These two are portrayed incredibly sympathetically throughout the game, and it could not be made more clear that they are victims.

Abigail was a sex worker at seventeen years old, and she had a baby at eighteen. Her son’s father abandoned her in a gang with an infant to take care of while she was still a teenager, and he has been absent in his son’s life and refusing to accept Jack is even his son for four years. All she wants is for her son to have a better life than she had as an orphan growing up in bars and brothels, she wants John to be responsible for Jack and everybody else does as well, even Dutch of all people tries to tell John he shouldn’t abandon his own son. Literally all she wants if for her family to be safe, and that is not the unreasonable ask that people seem to make it out to be. She is a young woman with a traumatic past who loves her family, and who, in the epilogue, just wants a life with her son and her husband where they won’t be in danger anymore. Abigail is one of the biggest reasons why John ends up changing into a better man, why he goes from the deadbeat he starts the game as to who we later see him become for the better. Do you think that’s how the narrative would portray a traitor? How it would show Abigail to you if she were anything other than a desperate young mother trying to care for the people she loves?

Molly is a young woman in an abusive relationship. She is alone in America with nowhere to go and presumably no means to support or defend herself if she ever did leave Dutch, which is a hard enough thing to do in a relationship like theirs even when you are not an isolated Irish woman in 1899. She is completely alone in the gang, she has no friends and no one will properly listen to her no matter how hard she tries. She is in love and she’s worried about Dutch, she never asks him for more than the bare minimum of, as she says, “respect and affection”. She is not asking to be the only focus of his attention, she is not asking him to focus entirely on her instead of the gang, she just wants to be looked at, to be called by her first name, to not be ignored by a man who supposedly loves her. Molly is driven into depression and paranoia by her isolation from any support in the gang and Dutch’s abuse, and she ends up so desperate for somebody to pay her any attention that she says something she knows will get her shot. She is revealed to be innocent in one of the most important cutscenes in the game, the final plot twist that Micah ratted on the gang, and after this, but there is doubt before. Karen doesn’t believe her, Mary-Beth doesn’t believe her, Arthur himself is what keeps Dutch from shooting her and he doesn’t believe her. In the money ending, Arthur will plead with Dutch, telling him it wasn’t Molly and to kill Micah instead. Do you think that’s how the narrative would portray a traitor? Is that how it would show you a victim of severe abuse who wanted nothing more than to be loved?

Each have their own flaws in addition to this, but that’s because they, like the men that are so highly praised within the fan base for their brilliant writing, are complex characters. They are three dimensional characters with personalities and wants and needs, who make decisions or react in ways we might not understand because they are their own people in their own impossibly difficult situations. Just think about the actual storytelling of the game, because nothing is done accidentally. There is a reason for every narrative choice made because it was all written down and performed with the intention of telling the story properly. There is a reason why no one questions that Molly was innocent after it is revealed and why her arc ends with that cutscene, and it is because she was innocent. There is a reason why John changing his ways for the sake of his family, both because of Jack and because of Abigail, and finally listening to his wife for once is shown as a good thing, and that’s because it is. Have whatever opinions you like about a character, but don’t pretend the game is telling you they are something that they’re not

[chthonicarcher]

Hello!! I've been a fan of your art and writing for a while now, and I wanted you to know your works a big inspiration and comfort to me!! Anywho, thoughts on Davebot and Commander Vantas :]

first of all, wow, thank you so much!! that’s so kind <3

mkay so...

the thing is,

sigh. so. okay.

okay listen—

OKAY THE FIRST THING I GOTTA SAY, and I mean this ought to go *without* saying but I’m still just going to say it: this is all JUST MY OPINION!! it’s subjective, I’m not saying other people are wrong just bc we may happen to disagree about this!

TO BE HONEST WITH YOU, though, I only really engage with “beyond canon” or “dubious canon” or “post-canon” content in the way I’m doing right here, which is to say, drawing silly requests to dress up CKat as Hatsune Miku or whatever. or sometimes drawing something featuring meat or candy DaveKat specifically for my dear friend bug, who loves the epilogues and HS2, and still has a lot of hope for a happy DaveKat ending in *both* timelines. (love you bug, love your optimism, and I hope for your sake that HS2 doesn’t disappoint!)

because **MY** opinion of all that is that it sucks and shouldn’t exist, lol. sorry!! I hate its very existence! I ignore it and I mostly avoid it because it upsets me deeply, and I only engage (very shallowly) with the elements I can fully get behind, which usually means “cool outfits” or “cool designs.” Davebot looks real cool, man! that’s about all I can say about him without wanting to vomit!! his very existence makes me sad as fuck and I hate it, idk what else to tell you. I hate that even though that story goes out of its way to point out how non-canon it is, just by nature of being an officially sanctioned product it kinda IS canon, and the fans sure treat it that way, and I’m not even saying they’re wrong. if Hussie wanted the epilogues to actually be treated like fanfic maybe they shouldn’t’ve attached their name, man, idk.

anyway, I know drawing CKat and Davebot as just silly little guys without actually fully engaging with/reading post-canon sorta makes me part of “the problem,” like those “fans” of Homestuck who don’t understand it at all bc they HAVEN’T READ IT yet insist on making art about it that misunderstands the characters? but tbh I just don’t like or respect post-canon stuff in the same way I like and respect the original work. to me it is fanfic, and not even like a good one that I would bookmark or download a PDF of, lol. sorry if this disappoints you! I still think the designs are cool ✌️

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

One of Us is Guilty; Epilogue (Part 1)

Cater is missing and Vil, Azul, Silver & Jade are now remaining. Will they find Cater? Will they catch Rook? Will they survive the night?

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Azul Ashengrotto, Silver, Jade

Content; Murder mystery, revealing some clues

Content Warnings; Dead bodies, kidnapping (dead dove content)

Word Count; 1.2 K

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue (Part 1) | Epilogue (Final)

Do not put my work into AI If you enjoy my writing, check out my masterlist

Rook was gone, and so was Cater. They should have felt relieved that the killer had been found, but now, he was missing, and he had taken Cater with him.

Vil clenched his jaw, and his nails were digging so hard into his skin that he nearly drew blood, nearly. Even though he can be strange, Rook wouldn’t do something like this… it’s against his own code; he would own up to it, not hide it. “Is everyone okay?” Obviously not, but still, checking in can help.

Out of everyone, Jade looked the least panicked, but Vil could read him well enough to know that this situation disturbed him greatly. Silver was shaking a bit, not from anger, but rather, grief. And then there was Azul, who was pacing and muttering to himself; of how this could happen, to possible motives. And Vil? He was hurt — not physically, but emotionally — since he knew Rook the most, but knew that whatever was happening, was not the real Rook.

“No,” Silver spoke up, eyes meeting Vil’s. “But there isn’t time to waste, for all we know, Cater cou- is still alive. And we shouldn’t waste time, the sooner we find him, the better the outcome is.”

Vil nodded, “I agree, and I want you all to stay behind me.” Just in case. But he didn’t say that. Vil was the eldest of their remaining group, and he saw it as his duty to protect his juniors… even against his own friend and vice-house warden.

Jade looked at Vil, and could tell that the Pomefiore house warden was willing to protect them. “And what about your safety?”

“… I trust that you all know offensive and defensive magic enough to where you won’t hit me by accident,” was his answer. Vil knew the risk, but the more that he ruminated on all that had happened tonight, the more he was sure about what they were going to do. “We’re going to the teacher’s lounge.”

Azul stopped pacing, turning his eyes to Vil, trying to get a read on him. “Is that really the best idea,” he questioned. “The last time we moved rooms–”

“I know what happened!” Vil hissed, before taking a breath and calming himself down. “My apologies,” he sighed, “but we can either try and solve this and try to get Cater back or we can stay here like sitting ducks. And trust me; Rook is quite the marksman.”

Azul backed down, “Sorry.” But he still felt uneasy, as if there were eyes watching him still, even though the guilty party was now known. “May I ask why the teacher’s lounge though?”

Vil opened the door out to the hall, “Even if Rook isn’t there, and it isn’t the room where the original murder took place, there could still be clues about why this whole ordeal happened, and how.”

Silver stood beside Vil, and matched his stride; if Vil was willing to risk his own safety to keep them safe, he was going to make sure to guard him, to put his training to use. He may not have a sword, but if it came to it, Silver would not hesitate to use his magic, or his body, to protect the others, even if he had to use said magic against a fellow classmate. 

Jade brought up the rear since he trusted his own keen senses and his magical capabilities; the ocean made him acutely aware of his surroundings after all, and he wouldn’t have made it this far without them. “The professors do sometimes make notes about student behaviour, so that could bring up some new information,” he hummed.

“Professor Trein would probably keep the best notes,” Silver offered quietly. “So… should we just read them without his permission?”

“I don’t see any other option. It’s better to ask for forgiveness in this situation rather than each of us…” end up dead “find ourselves in a difficult situation,” Vil answered, finding himself in front of the door all too soon.

Azul, despite being in the centre of everyone, still felt uneasy. Still felt eyes watching him. “Difficult how? Dead? Perhaps tortured? Made to watch as the rest of us are picked off like bait fish to a shark’s kill–” He stopped himself, forcing himself to take in a deep breath. Have I been holding my breath? “… do you think we’ll find anything of use?”

Vil opened the door, “I guess we’ll find out eventually.”

Silver, Azul, and Jade followed after him.

…

…

“I find that Mr. Hunt has been acting lacklustre in class. He told me that everything was fine, but after talking to Divus, it has come to my attention that Mr. Hunt could have been in contact with an expired potion,” Vil read Trein’s notes. “Other than this though, he seems to be doing well… but he is far too good at masking his true emotions, so I can’t help but worry.”

“Did Professor Trein mention what the potion is,” Azul spoke up. If anyone could figure out the side effects of an expired potion, it would be Azul and Vil.

Vil looked over the note, “No…” But his eyes widened as he got an idea. As much as he hated it, it could be their only lead. “But someone does. Come with me.”

He marched back down the hall, Silver on his right, with Azul and Jade keeping up behind him. They were going back to the main hall, where all three of the bodies were.

“You must be joking,” Jade huffed, looking at Vil, avoiding looking at the bodies of Headmage Crowley, the Ramshackle Prefect, and Professor Crewel. “You know reanimation–”

“It isn’t reanimation magic, I would never dream of doing something so… dark.” Vil brought out his pen, and he walked over to Divus’ body, kneeling down beside him. “Bring memories back,” he whispered, staring into the glassy, dead, eyes of Professor Crewel.

The others shuffled as the memories of the past week started to play out around them; from the professor having his morning coffee, to him sighing over papers. 

“Show us Rook,” Vil demanded. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep this up. Even though this wasn’t as taboo as reanimation, looking into the memories of the deceased was still considered a violation… but they had very few choices, so in comparison to what else had occurred that night, this transgression was far less important in the grand scheme of things.

The memories flashed until they showed Rook in class, three days ago. He was talking animatedly to his alchemy partner as he reached for an ingredient, but his hand bumped into a glass vial, making it crash onto the ground, covering him in the contents.

Vil paused the memory and examined the vial. “Azul,” he called, beckoning him forward. He gave him a look, and Azul looked at the vial. Vil wanted to make sure that he was actually seeing this. That he wasn’t wrong.

“A love potion? An expired love potion?” Azul huffed, wracking his brain for the side effects. “Lacklustre behaviour… obsession…” He muttered to himself. 

Vil stopped the spell, knowing that if he lingered, it could risk blot accumulating. “It makes sense… the hunter of love,” he sighed, pinching his nose. “But this, this is…”

“AZUL!” Silver shouted.

Vil turned around, but he was too late.

Azul was gone, and his glasses were broken on the ground, the glass shattered. He didn’t even have the chance to make a sound.

“You chose the wrong room!~” Rook’s voice hummed merrily on the PA system.

SUSPECTS:

- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show?  (Plum) - Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet) - Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley’s co-worker (Peacock) DECEASED - Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what’s happening (Mustard) MURDERER - Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green) MISSING - Reader; the ‘house-keeper’, a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) DECEASED - Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid) - Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach) MISSING

ROOMS:

- Main hall (eliminated in Chapter 2) - Teachers’ lounge (eliminated in Epilogue (Part 1)) - Cafeteria - Kitchens - Lecture theatre - Botanical garden - Alchemy lab (eliminated in Chapter 3) - Library - Crowley’s office (eliminated in Chapter 1)

WEAPON: MAGIC (found in Chapter 2)

TO BE CONTINUED!

Author's Note; The last vote ended in a tie which included the correct room where the murder took place, so Chapter 5 will be a continuation of this. It just felt natural to end it here for this chapter to build suspense!

So congrats!!! Just need to sit for a bit and decide how to wrap things up! And since you guys did technically get the room, there won't be a poll this time; just putting the next part in a new chapter.

[imsadstuff]

Loving You Is Red - A Jeon Jungkook Fic -Epilogue

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook's name was unheard on the Formula 1 paddock till he got a chance to drive a Mercedes car as a reserve driver. His 2020 starts looking brighter as he signs with Ferrari and meets you, his team mates little sister. So many cliched tropes, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, dating brother's best friend, and most importantly Jeon Jungkook looks smoking hot in a Ferrari! Genre: Fluff, angst, slice of life and humor Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, my mother got hospitalized and I couldn't find the time to finish this. This took a lot of time and energy, so I hope you enjoy reading this. If you do please leave me a like or comment, please don't be a ghost reader! Word Count: 4.6k+ (I reccomend reading on a desktop if possible!) Warnings: Sexual themes, drinking, and just a whole lot of fluff.

Link to my masterlist if you want to check out my other stuff : here

Link to the main fic if you haven't read it yet here

AO3 link incase you prefer that: here

Race 14 Monaco Grand Prix 2029

“Cooking with your mother was disastrous. I couldn’t even chop properly and I’m sure I ruined her batch of kimchi but she was still super kind” you share as Jungkook chuckles in the car beside you.

“I promise you it isn’t as bad as it is in your head” Jungkook tries and reassure you as his hand intertwines with yours.

“And if she doesn’t invite you to make kimchi next year, we’ll know for sure” Jungkook says with a teasing tone and you swat his hand away as you simmer in last week's embarrassment.

“Ignoring the massive disaster, I was with your mother, how was fishing with my dad and Phillip. Phillip sent me a bunch of drunk texts saying how I was all grown up, did you say something weird?” you ask, turning to look at him and Jungkook brushes it off, taking a hold of your hand again.

“We were just talking about us dating for the first time and how young we were, that might have caused that” he says as he drives the car into the parking lot.

“Also, Phillip is a little shit who and told me that I shouldn’t go easy on your father, and to put it simply, I beat your father at chess and now I know where Phillip and you get the competitive gene from” he says as he unbuckles the seatbelt and you look at him all confused.

“What did my father do to you and what makes you think I’m competitive?” you ask with a pointed tone and Jungkook snickers, very sarcastically.

“Your father doesn’t ever want to play any games with me for the sake of our relationship and don’t you remember the Mario Kart incident? Because that remote almost hit me” he complains as he pulls you closer by your hand.

“Oh will you drop the Mario Kart incident, I was eating chips and my hands were all oily and I can’t believe you’re-” Jungkook shuts you up with a soft peck on your lips, followed by a deeper one as he bites your lower lip.

“Baby, I might be competitive but not as much as you.” you whisper against his lips and he chuckles, finally pulling away.

“That is true. Now come on, I gotta win this race!” Jungkook says and you snicker, he’s definitely more competitive.

“So, the first date was great, superb actually. We connected, there was this undeniable chemistry and why are you making that face?” Lando stops talking when he notices the dubious smile on your face.

“Did Lily tell you something else? Did she not have a good time? Oh my god is that why she hasn’t texted me since the last half an hour?” Lando is starting to panic and Jungkook and you share a knowing smile, getting a kick out of your friend's misery.

Lando and Lily hit it off at Jungkook’s last birthday dinner and Lando didn’t hesitate at all before asking her out.

“I just want it put in writing that you and Lily will not bother us with your relationship troubles” you say sternly as the three of you make way to the hospitality area. Lando moved to Ferrari about a year ago, Jungkook and him have been a great team. 

“Relationship, so she said something good, what did Lily say ___?” Lando asks with agitation and Jungkook giggles as his hand intertwines with yours.

“I’m sorry best friend, best friend privilege” you tease and Lando groans, only making Jungkook laugh louder. Lando isn’t the type to doubt himself when it comes to relationships, so this is quite amusing.

“Just chill my man, focus on the race for now” Jungkook says tapping Lando’s hand and he distractedly nods.

“Would you guys be up for brunch at my place tomorrow, a double date?” Lando asks reading something from his phone, probably a text from Lily.

“Sure-” “We can’t actually, we have a thing” Jungkook interrupts you, but you just tag along.

“Yeah we do, let’s plan for some other time” you say and Lando nods understandingly, before he walks off as he’s texting someone.

“We have a thing tomorrow?” you ask as the two of you slip into Jungkook’s driver room. Jungkook’s quiet for a second as he pulls off his polo, ready to slip into his driving suit.

“I was hoping we could spend the day decorating our apartment, we could build the bookshelves that are still in boxes” he says with a small smile as he takes a seat to get rid of his shoes. The two of you moved in together a few months ago but hadn’t gotten to decorating yet.

“Aren’t you such a romantic, but you and I both know I can’t be participating with building stuff, I broke my hand the last time and your very expensive coffee table” you say and Jungkook chuckles, pulling you in his lap.

“Counter offer, you sort the books in our guest room and I build the bookshelf, like the provider I am” he offers with a big smile as his arms circle around your waist.

“Are you sweet talking me into doing chores Jeon?” you ask in an accusing tone and he only laughs louder.

“Maybe,” he says, pecking your lips softly. “What about tonight? Are we doing your winner's dinner?” you ask, smiling against his lips.

“I am infuriated that I can’t eat icing off your tits tonight, I have a work dinner thing” he grumbles and you run your hands down his back.

“We can do winner’s breakfast instead, it’s all about improvising baby” you say in an attempt to lift his spirits.  “saranghae” you whisper looking in his big, brown eyes, you had started picking up a few Korean words here and there, dropping them casually and amusing Jungkook. “I love you” Jungkook says, pulling away to look you in the eyes. He takes a deep breath to really take in the moment.

The race started and ended quickly for Jungkook after reliability issues in lap 10. You sigh as you sit opposite your father, winning is important for Jungkook, it really it, but he’s also gotten great with compartmentalizing it.

“Too bad the car isn’t supporting him” you father says and you nod, watching on the tv’s as the camera’s follow Jungkook walking into the garage.

“At least he’ll get to rest during the summer break” you say, looking forward to the next few weeks of vacation.

“Where are you guys going?” your father asks as he turns to look at you. It wasn’t going to be a vacation per say.

“Jungkook bought a house in Busan, it’s by the ocean, kinda close to the one his family used to live in. We’ll leave Thursday, and just spend a few weeks there, I’ll work, he’ll train, just our usual days but in Busan” Jungkook had proposed this weeks ago, and you immediately agreed.

“Sounds romantic” your father says with a big, bright smile, “Jungkook really makes you happy doesn’t he” he continues talking, this isn’t a question but more like a statement.

“Life is better with him in it” you say as your eyes catch his across the room, immediately, you flash him a comforting smile and he mimics one too as he walks towards you.

“Next race will be better son” your father tells Jungkook as he takes a seat beside you.

“Hopefully we’ll be done with the engine issues” he sighs with frustration and your hand finds his, interlocking them immediately.

“Issues like these are so threatening to my championship chances, so utterly out of my hand” Jungkook voices his concerns and your father listens intently, knowing all about it.

“It so much worse because you can’t fix the issues and it threatens the team morale” your father says and Jungkook nods intensely. Soon, Namjoon comes over too, the three of them talking about the issues in length while you sit there quietly, while Jungkook rubs his thumb across your hand.

“You’re meeting is at around 8 at Blue Bay, and they’ve scheduled a post-race meeting at 6:30” Namjoon reminds Jungkook before he stands up to leave. Your father left earlier too, saying something about having dinner appointments.

“You’ve been awfully quiet” Jungkook says, turning around to look at you.

“I’m kinda tired” you say resting your head against his arm. Jungkook is really tempted to cancel his dinner thing and go home with you, but you talk him out of it.

“I promise I’ll call you if I don’t feel any better after dinner,” you tell him and he grumbles, bringing his arm around your waist.

“Did you get your test results back? I know you’re all weak because of deficiencies, that’s why your hands are always cold” Jungkook sits for a few more minutes, knowing full well the meeting is going to start any moment now.

“The doctor will call me when it’s done, just will you go and do your work. One of us needs to make shit load of money, we have expensive taste” you tease him in attempts to lighten the situation.

“Call me if you need anything-“ he says as he sneaks a quick peck on your lips, “or nothing, just call me” “I will” you reassure him with a soft pat on his cheek.

Jungkook isn’t a fan of talking one on one with reporters, but Namjoon assured him a couple thousand times and somehow made him agree to this dinner.

What he wasn’t expecting was an excited, senior writer for Vogue Korea, Jung Hoseok. They click immediately, talking endlessly about anything and everything under the sun.

“So, this is your ninth year at ferrari and you’ve decided to move to mercedes, what motivated the move?” Hoseok asks and Jungkook takes a big sip of his drink, this question is the reason this interview was set up. The move hasn’t been announced, yet.

“My years at ferrari have made me the champion I am, I won seven world championships with them but I’ve also felt a little stagnant in my career. The move is a way to challenge myself as a driver and also making a profitable move as a driver” Jungkook explains calmly and Hoseok scoffs.

“You’re so amazingly media trained, the answers are given by a PR person aren’t they” the reporter notes and Jungkook laughs out loud.

“My manager, he’s the reason I talk so well” Jungkook answers candidly.

“So, the move is not because of the reliability and strategy issues?” “Those reasons obviously played a part in the decision making. Ferrari has been struggling for the last two years since they changed their engine producer, and I wanted to stick with my team through the pain, but I’m not 20 anymore, I’m almost 30. I told my manager after the first three terrible races last year, ‘We’ll stick with them for a year, give them time to work out the kinks, they deserve patience from me, at least for a year’. But again, the since the start of this year, it hasn’t been that great, so after lengthy discussions with my manager, parents and girlfriend, I decided to make the move” Jungkook answers honestly, and Hoseok is a little stunned by it. They go on to discuss the move to mercedes more, talking about going back to where it all started.

“You don’t talk about your girlfriend much to the press or media, your relationship is extremely private even missing from each other’s social media, is there a reason for that?”

“I’ve kept my relationship with ___ private because the more public I make it, the more people feel like they have a say in the relationship. And I don’t want people’s opinions or thoughts guiding our relationship, and honestly, I can’t bear losing her again”

“This might be an odd question, but how do you think being in love has changed you?” this question sticks with Jungkook for a while, he thinks it over for a good few minutes.

“It has made me a much more, stronger, and confident person. I think being loved by someone you love endlessly is one of the most beautiful thing in the world. She doesn’t love me despite or because, she just loves me for being Jungkook and that’s, um, something that’s really helped me grow and change as a person for the better.” Jungkook sighs the more he thinks about you, he wonders if you are still feeling sick.

“Can I ask you a few more questions about your relationship? You can say no” Hoseok asks and Jungkook strangely encourages him. Most reporters he’s talked to are always looking for a scoop, this is the first time a reporter seems to be taking actual interest in him.  

“Were the two of you set up by your former teammate and now close friend Phillip Lee or did it just happen naturally?”

“Phillip didn’t even know we’d been dating till we broke up” Jungkook says and chuckles, thinking back to the before the first race of 2021, Phillip literally cornered him in his drivers room and asked him what was wrong with him.

“Back in 2020, there weren’t a lot of people my age on the paddock. I really needed a friend, so I reached out to ___. We were friends for a good few months before I realised, I was in love with her. Luckily, she felt the same way” Jungkook has the widest smile as he thinks back, just makes him realise how much time has passed.

“You talk of a break up, did it affect you as a driver?” Hoseok asks as he sits up straight.

“As much as I hate admitting it, it did, I’m human after all. What’s going on in my personal life usually doesn’t affect me as a driver because I’m great at compartmentalizing, but losing someone I love, so abruptly, and especially when I couldn’t do anything to stop to let her slip away, it frustrated me to no end and it affected my performance as a driver, initially at least” Jungkook confesses and the reporter passes him an encouraging smile.

“The two of you have been dating for four years-“ “Five in total” Jungkook corrects him and the two of them chuckle out loud. “The two of you have been dating for five years now, does the future of your relationship affect your future as a driver? To bring up Phillip again, he retired a few months after his first son was born and has been living a quiet life away from F1 since, do you see yourself going down that road too? Putting your relationship and family ahead of anything by your mid-thirties?”

“Just last week I was facetiming Phillip, and he was building a dollhouse, surrounded by his kids. Phillip was obviously, very happy as a f1 driver, but being a father has made him content like never before. I don’t know what it’s going to be like with us, but I know ___ and I will come to a decision that’s best for the two of us”

“Talking of retirement, what do you see yourself filling time with when retired?” Hoseok asks, relaxing a little as he sits back in the chair.

“Sometime during early 2019, I knew I didn’t have a contract for the next year so my sister and I really started thinking of plan b’s outside of racing, and we narrowed down on the option of me going to college and taking the traditional route. I have always wondered, what would life be right now if things didn’t end up the way they did, and even though I was and am ecstatic that I landed in ferrari back then. I would like to take the college route too, see how it shapes my future. I really enjoyed being a student, and I think I’d enjoy going back to it. My girlfriend also thinking that I can sing pretty well and be a musician, but I think love has made her a little delusional” Jungkook jokes about the last part, making the reporter laugh too.

“To tie up the interview, this is your last year with ferrari, last year to win the championship in red. Endings are usually the time one gets reflective, how do you reflect back at the last eight years?”

“I look back and I’m filled with gratitude, so much gratitude. I am sure you’ve seen the video from my first karting championship win, an interviewer asking me what my dream f1 team would be, I remember saying ferrari with that excited high-pitched voice. I truly did want to drive for ferrari but at the same time as I made my way through F3 and F2, the dream started looking unattainable. Just minutes before I sighed the ferrari contract, ___ congratulated me on signing with ferrari, that’s when it really sunk in. I went into my hotel room and cried because of how overwhelmed and excited I was to be achieving a lifelong dream. My time at ferrari has shaped me into the man and driver I am, the ups, downs, agreements and disagreements have taught me so many invaluable lessons. I met the love of my life, got the opportunity to work with some of the most amazing people, won seven world championships, all because of my time at ferrari, and I truly know it in my heart that none of it would have happened if things didn’t go exactly as they did.”

Jungkook made a bet with himself, if he found you asleep on the sofa with your glasses still on and aggressively clutching a book, he’d buy you flowers tomorrow morning. He would have even if he lost the bet. But he audibly awes when he does win the bet, he’s found you like this a few thousand times, but it always endears him somehow. Jungkook quietly takes off your glasses and puts the book away. Crouching down, his eyes level with your tightly shut ones, softly, he grazes your face.

“You really hate falling asleep in our bed all by yourself, don’t you” he says to himself as he pushes some of your hair away from your face. Jungkook doesn’t struggle one bit when he picks you up bridal style, and lays you on the bed. He notices how your hand instinctively reached for his, holding onto him tightly.

Jungkook’s exhausted from the race and the day he’s had, all he wants to do is lay down and get some shut eye, but he sits by the you for a few too long, afraid him moving is going to wake you up. But he does eventually pry his hands out of your grip and jump into the quickest shower of his life.

“When did you get home?” you ask turning to face Jungkook as he dries his hair with a towel.

“20 minutes ago?” he says abandoning the towel and picking up the hair dryer now that you’ve up.

“How did the interview go?” you ask as you sit up to drink some water.

“Surprisingly well, I talked about you. A lot” he says from the dressing table and you give him a quizzical look.

“Why?” you ask as your eyes follow him around the room. Jungkook just smiles and looks away as he shuts the hair dryer off.

“He asked the right questions” Jungkook says massaging his torso as he walks to bed, he takes slides into bed, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“___” he whispers your name against your lips and you sigh, running your hands through his hair.

“I am so looking forward to summer break, just you and I relaxing. Maybe if you feel like it, we take a dip in the ocean or you watch me swim in the ocean. I could do a slutty Baywatch style walk for you-“ you shut Jungkook up by sliding into his lap.

“You ramble when you’re tired” you note with speed as you lean down to kiss him, fiercely, leaving Jungkook a little breathless. In the middle of making out, your hands travel to his chest, hoping to tug off his t-shirt when you notice something.

“Why is your heart beating like crazy” you ask noticing his erratic heartbeat. His lips flatter to a shy smile as realisation dawns on the two of you.

“Oh my god, Jungkook you’re going to make me cry” you say cradling his cheeks and he grumbles pulling you closer.

“I’m sure your heart beats for me like that too” he says reaching for your chest under the t-shirt.

“Babe, you’re just grabbing my tit” you note sarcastically as his finger grazes your hard nipple.

“I can’t help if your heart is behind your tit” he teases you, tugging on your nipple and getting the exact kind of moan from you.

“But really, it does. Even if my words and actions are lacking sometimes, my love for you grows each day” the tender words catch Jungkook a little off guard, not that you aren’t vocal about it, maybe he really needed this kind of confirmation from you today

Soft sunlight is peeking through the curtains, illuminating your face. Turning around to avoid the sunlight, you snuggle even closer to Jungkook, nuzzling in his chest. Jungkook’s been awake for a few minutes now, but he isn’t ready to let go of you yet. His alarm goes off, and he struggles to turn it off, but he does.

“Babe, I really need to go, Namjoon hyung is probably waiting for me downstairs” he grumbles but at the same time doesn’t let go of you. Training is intense as a F1 driver, and Jungkook takes it seriously.

“Kook is summer break” you complain as he detaches himself from you. He chuckles as you continue to whine as he gets dressed as quickly as he can.

“I promise I’ll pick up breakfast on my way,” Jungkook says mid brushing his teeth. Wiping off his face, he changes into a fresh set of clothes, ready to be out the door.

“You stay put, I’ll be back in forty minutes and we’ll resume the activities of last night” Jungkook insinuates as you turn around in bed to face him. There are butterflies in your stomach just thinking about last night, and they only intensify as he holds your jaw tight as he kisses you, tugging on your lip.

Jungkook feels giddy as he makes his way to Namjoon, continuing to stretch as he walks over to his hyung.

“I’m thinking we go by the church today-“ “I think I’m going to propose to ___” Jungkook interrupts him and Namjoon looks at him dumb founded.

“Um, that’s wonderful. The two of you are really-“ “Yeah, I know we’re pretty darn cute, but I’m thinking about proposing today, more accurately by breakfast” Jungkook says very calmly as Jungkook continues to stretch.

“Okay, so, um-“ “I have had the ring for a few months now and I was looking for the perfect time, and I thought I’d do it while we were in Busan but I don’t think I can wait any longer.” Jungkook says, taking a deep breath.

“This morning, I was looking at ___’s left hand, and I just knew, I had to propose right away. It just feels like the right moment” Jungkook explains and the panic is starting to build, panic mixed with a shit ton of excitement.

“I don’t know if we’d be here if I didn’t advise you to break up with ___, but I’m glad we’re here” Namjoon says patting Jungkook’s arm.

“Hyung you gotta stop beating yourself up about that,” “I know, but I am seriously, so happy for you and ___” Namjoon says and Jungkook smiles widely.

“I know, now I gotta get going with breakfast and flowers before ___ wakes up” Jungkook says running a hand through his hair, it’s a nervous tick. “Remember to set up a camera, you’ll want pictures”

Jungkook hears the shower turn off as he plates the breakfast Most people would want a grand proposal, but Jungkook knows you’ll want a private, lowkey one more. He knows you’ll want to cherish this moment, without a crowd and attention around. He fixes the flowers as you step out the washroom, drying your hair as you walk across the room. Jungkook knows you aren’t going to dry your hair right away, no matter how many times he asks you to, he knows you’re going to be walking into the living room any moment now.

“Jungkook, are you back already?” you shout from the room, hearing some noises come from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I cut the run short, come out here” he yells, locating the ring. Before you can reply, your phone rings and you pick it up immediately.

“Um, okay” you reply to the call as Jungkook checks the camera, making sure it’s recording.

“Yeah, 1 pm works for us, we’ll be there” you reply as Jungkook calls out for you again.

“Alright, I’ll see you later” you mutter turns to walk towards the living room, and realising,

Jungkook’s waiting for you, on a knee. You mutter a oh my god as realisation sets in, Jungkook anxiously bites his lip, waiting for you to say something. The silence is starting to eat Jungkook, he’s starting to regret this, you’re going to say yes, right?

“I feel amazing each morning I get to wake up next to you, and a few months back, I decided I wanted a lifetime of it. I was waiting for the right moment; I came so close to asking you after we finished that trek in Australia. It was perfect, the view, the feeling, but I knew you would never forgive me for proposing me while you were all sweaty” he jokes and you giggle, the tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Then I thought, I’d do it in Busan, I even got a planner and everything but something changed this morning. Your hand reached for mine, like it does every morning. I felt your ring finger, and I just knew I couldn’t wait any longer.” Jungkook’s a little teary eyed too as his hand swiftly open the velvet box, revealing the ring, and you gasp, like you weren’t expecting it.

“Will you marry me ___?” Jungkook feels a little breathless he finally asks the question. The smile on your face widens like you’re going to say yes to him, but Jungkook is absolutely shocked by what you say next.

“I’m pregnant. We’re pregnant!” you say and the color completely drains from Jungkook’s face as you pull him up. “What?” his voice is barely audible as he asks you that. “The, um, doctor just called, the tests they ran last week. Turns out I don’t have any deficiencies, turns out I’m pregnant” you retell the events of the phone call and he gasps with shock.

“Oh my god, we’re going to have a fucking baby!” Jungkook shouts with excitement as he pulls you close for a kiss, and a few more.

"um, yeah the doctor asked if we could go in for the first sonogram today afternoon, that's fine right? You don't have anything planned right?" you ask as you pull away from him a little, Jungkook wants to hug you tight, like he wants to let you know just how intensely he's feeling, but he doesn't.

"___, we're having a baby, nothing is more important than you and the baby" he says running a hand through your hair, sensing some tension from you.

The two of you just stand in each other's embrace for a while, letting the moment soak in.

“Wait, um, you didn’t give me an answer” Jungkook asks as his forehead leans against yours.

“Yes, Jungkook. Of course, I want to marry you. I want to be your wife for the rest of my life” you say and he slips on the ring.

People always assume that the fairy-tale ends when the couple gets married. But for the two of you, the fairy tale is always going to be on going. It’s going to keep going through every date night, every quiet morning, every small moment with your child, it’s going to be forever going. The love you two have for each other is forever going.

Tag List: @blancflms @nadzzzblog @kookiewhtaee @jksoftiitii @oiseul @elisaaru @coralmusicblaze @tearyjjeonn @moonchild1 @jungkooksseuphoria @cookysstuff @ohyeahjk @bobakkoo @whoa-jo @kooromiwrld @littlelandalp @marvelover3000