#but once the pregnancy update happens they will be

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you see your mother face to face for the first time in years, and it starts with a rocky conversation.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23), unplanned pregnancy, this is very much centered around reader and her mom (jack is only mentioned in this part), mentions of a difficult mother/daughter relationship, and angst due to that, i think that’s it?? minors DNI.

notes: i have still been struggling with a bit of writies block for this series :( so i am sorry if this is not the best. i also couldn’t quite get the flow right for this part. initially, jack and reader met with her mom, and then met with jacks mom (and his sister showed up) but as i was rereading it and trying to wrap it up today, i felt like it didn’t make a lot of sense, so decided to split part 7 up where it’s reader and her mom, jack and his mom, then them both with readers mom, and then with jacks mom. also, i really projected my own issues with my mom here, so if it feels like the relationship makes no sense that may be why💀 i hope you guys aren’t too disappointed with this! unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 1.3k (ish)

prev next

You and Jack both decided it would probably be best for you to speak with your mother on your own for the initial conversation. You, knowing your mother and all the snide remarks she’ll be giving, and him, taking your word for it that this is the best way to go about it.

So, after taking an entire day off of work to prepare for her coming, your apartment was spotless and a nice lunch had been made.

Every so often, you feel your girl kick at you from the confines of your womb.

You feel your heart rate pick up at the knock that sounds throughout the apartment.

“Okay, bug, let’s get this over with.” You mumble as you rub a hand over your stomach.

When you open the door, you force your eyes not to roll back into your head when she immediately pulls you into her embrace.

“Oh, baby,” She mumbles as she kisses the side of your head repeatedly.

“Hi mom,” You awkwardly rub her back.

When she finally pulls away, she keeps her hands on your shoulders as she looks you over.

She glances between you and your stomach twice, “Oh, wow.”

There it is. You scoff lightly before opening the door a little more to let her in.

Once the two of you are sitting at your dining table, you check your phone for any updates from Jack on how his conversation with his own mother is going.

Your mom huffs in annoyance, “You haven’t seen your mother in almost three years, and the first thing you do is get on your phone?”

You nearly laugh, but hold it back, “And whose fault is that? You came up with nearly any excuse you could to not come here for graduation last year.”

She narrows her eyes at you, and for a moment you feel sixteen again, but you hold her eyes.

“Well, then I’ll just say what I feel should be said then,”

“Oh, let’s hear it then,” You mumble out sarcastically.

“I think you should move home to raise the baby, with my help.”

Now you do laugh, “I’m sorry, what?”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “Baby, what exactly do you think is going to happen here?”

You open your mouth to speak, but she continues, “A man old enough to be your father got you pregnant. And sure, he’s here now. But what happens when she’s born, huh? And he decides he doesn’t want to be a father? Or worse, tries to take her from you?”

Tears well up in your eyes before you can even stop them, “This is why you came? To lecture me about my life and then force me to come home with you?”

To her credit, her eye’s soften slightly, “No, baby, I’m just worried. This is a big deal.”

“You don’t even know him! All you do when I see you is try to dictate my life.”

She looks taken aback, “Now-“

“No, it’s true. You resent me for one reason or another for not turning out exactly like you wanted me too,”

“I wanted a better life for you then the one I had! Is that a crime?”

You scoff, “You hated me!”

Her mouth drops slightly, “I could never hate you. You are my child,”

She lets out a shaky breath, “Life was hard for us sometimes, and you didn’t make it any easier on me. I never hated you. I wanted the absolute best for you, that is still all I want for you.”

“Then don’t come here trying to sweep me away or convince me that the father of my baby is going to try to take her from me!” You grit the last part out, because no matter how hard you try to deny it, it’s still a very real fear for you.

She looks at you, frown ever present, “I am sorry if it seems like that’s all I came here to do. It wasn’t my intention, even if that’s what I think is for the best.”

You just shrug, not having anything else to say to her.

The two of you sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes before you get up and plate the salads you made for lunch.

You eat in silence before she finally speaks up again, “Well, tell me all about it.”

You glance up, brow furrowed, “About what?”

“The baby. Her dad. Your life. Everything.” She has a smile on her face that transports you back to being ten years old, when she was your best friend and made you feel so loved and so invincible.

She must sense your distrust, because her face falls slightly.

“It’s a girl, I think I mentioned it, but if I didn’t. She’s a girl,” You smile when you talk about her.

You tell your mom names you’ve picked out, the types of food you're craving, which she tells you when you mention cravings similar to the ones that she had.

You tell her about work and your friends. She smiles, and though you know her, know that she doesn’t love you living in Pittsburgh and the path you’ve chosen, you can tell she is happy for you.

“And how did you meet Jack?” Your mom asks casually as she takes a sip of water.

You wince, “Um, a bar?”

She coughs, face turning red, “Was this a one night stand?”

You wince again. You’d kept the details out initially. Just telling her that you’d met a guy and gotten pregnant but you were trying to still get to know each other. Which wasn’t a lie.

“I mean, I guess you could call it that?”

Your face heats up under the judgemental look in her eyes, and it causes you to shrink in on yourself.

She stares at you a moment longer, eyes glancing down at your stomach and lingering, “Is he good to you?”

You look at her, a soft smile taking over your face as you talk about him, “Yeah. I mean he’s busy a lot, but he’s always here when I need him. Goes to the store to get snacks in the middle of the night and wakes up with me if I get sick.”

Your eyes get distant as your hand rubs your stomach, “He’s changed his whole life for her, for me, and I know it isn’t conventional or anything. And he and I are doing this all backwards but,”

You trail off, eyes focusing back on her, “I think this is a really good thing. Scary, like really scary, but I think it will turn out really good.”

She reaches across the table to grab one of your hands, “I know you’re an adult who can make her own decisions, and I know there is no one harder on you than me. Trust me when I say I know that,”

To your surprise, she lets out a shaky breath and tears start to fill her eyes, “I know this is the time in your life for me to let you do what you think is best but I just can’t help but still want to keep you safe, safe with me.”

You haven’t felt the way you feel right now in almost a decade. Your relationship turned sour and complicated around the time you started high school. She was tough, and though you don’t have any ill feelings in your heart over it, she was jealous of the life you had when hers was so hard.

Moving for college mended some of that, but not all of it, and the resentment still lingered, however small, even some today.

But hearing that? It’s either your inner child begging for her mom again, or the hormones from growing your own, but it makes your chest feel heavy.

You squeeze her hand twice, against your better judgement.

[coldfanbou]

Least Restrictive Environment

So, this isn't what I wanted to put out. I got sick in the middle of the week, and looking at a screen has been difficult. I just happened to have this nearly finished, so I added a little bit more to it. It's part 2 of the Sana and Momo Kinkcember fic. That being said, it's pretty much just an update on what happened after P1 and smut, so it might be better to call it an epilogue. I'm starting to ramble anyway. I hope you enjoy it.

Length 2.1K

Sana X Momo X M reader

Once your relationship with your foster sisters had come to light, life became awkward in your home. The three of you would have constant sex when your parents were out; it didn’t matter where in the house it would happen; in the kitchen, bathroom, living room, everywhere was fair game. Your foster parents had had enough after a time. The smell bothered them more than anything. Considering there was no blood relation between any of you, they were okay with you being together; they just wanted you all to move out.

Together, the three of you were able to afford a decent place, renting a nice-sized apartment that quickly became your home. With the constant urge to play with each other, it was only a matter of time before Sana and Momo got pregnant. They were as happy as could be when they found out, and they wouldn’t allow their pregnancy to stop their daily activities. 

While Sana went out to get some shopping done, you were with Momo, your hands digging into her shoulders as you massaged them. Momo groaned as your hands unknotted the tension, feeling your breath against her back move her to push for more. You hadn’t had sex yet, having agreed to wait for Sana to come back. Momo figured she might be able to convince you. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at you, “I need you to get a spot, but let me take this off.” She said, making you pause. Momo lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it on the bed. The shirt was Momo’s only clothes, leaving her naked; considering how far along she was, she didn’t wear her bras anymore, and with the constant sex you all had, she had given up on panties long ago. Momo smirked as you asked her where she wanted you to focus. She reached back and grabbed your hands, “Right here,” Momo said, placing your hands on her engorged tits. You move closer to Momo, looking over her shoulder. Her breasts were weightier; her nipples had turned a darker color as well. The sight of her bare breasts turned you on, and Momo could feel your hardening cock against her ass.

“Oh, it feels like you need to get some tension out, too,” Momo said with a smirk. She has you squeeze her tits once before turning around. “Lay down for me, baby, and take those clothes off. Mommy is going to make you feel good.” You had to admit Momo taking charge aroused you more than anything, so you did as you were told. Once your clothes were off, Momo patted her lap, “Lay down here.” You rested against Momo, letting her adjust your position at will. In the end, she had her hand wrapped around your cock as she offered you one of her tits. You couldn’t resist; the large mounds were hypnotizing. You leaned in, running your tongue along her areola before taking it into your mouth. Momo’s hand began to move along your length slowly. You were growing harder, and Momo noticed, smiling as your precum began to cover her hand. “Oh, you’re so hard already. Does Mommy’s hand feel that good?” You nod, continuing to suck on her tit. “Are you going to cum soon?” She asked, speeding up slightly. In her pregnancy Momo had little patience, often wanting to drain you of all your cum as quickly as she could.

“Cum for Mommy,” Momo whispered into your ear with a smirk, her grip becoming oh so slightly stronger. You groan as she moves her hand along your shaft, her delicate fingers massaging the head as she moves to the tip. You can barely focus on her tits, Momo’s hand never stopped moving. Your groans only get louder, even as you suck on her tits. Momo’s breathy moans grow longer as she pumps your cock, feeling it begin to throb in her hand. “You can cum whenever you like. Mommy knows you have a lot more for her.” Momo cranes her neck, reveling in the pleasure as you flick her sensitive nipple with your tongue. “Mmm, keep going, baby; maybe you’ll get some milk.” Momo moans. You reach up and gently squeeze her breast, drawing milk from her nipple. “Ah! Don’t steal it all.” Momo’s breathing gets heavier as her milk fills your mouth. You feel her hand on the back of your head, keeping you against her chest as the hand on your cock begins to speed up.

You were getting close to cumming, and wanting to last a little longer, you tense your body. As you do, though, you accidentally bite down on Momo’s nipple. She yelps and squeezes down on the tip of your cock, making you cum. Your semen sprays onto her hand, coating it in the sticky substance. You quickly release your bite and pull away, apologizing as Momo continues to stroke your cock. “You can’t be so rough,” Momo says softly, bringing her hand to her lips. She drags her tongue along her hand, happily swallowing your cum.

She lays back on the bed, spreading her legs for you, her bulging belly more noticeable now as you take in her body. Momo notices your stares and places her hand on her belly. “This is yours, I’m yours.” She says with a smile. Momo moves her right hand down to her wet lips, spreading them apart slowly.  You gulp, your breath catching in your throat as you stare at Momo’s body. Grabbing your cock, you inch closer to Momo, your foster sister, your lover, the mother to your soon-to-be child. You rub yourself against her entrance, both of you cooing from the jolt of pleasure. 

Just as you’re about to push inside, the bedroom door opens. “Yah! You said you would wait!” You turn around and see Sana, her cheeks puffed out. “Don’t move! I get to go first!” The flustered woman rushes to take off her dress, slipping the straps off her shoulder and pulling it over her belly until it falls onto the floor. Sana waddles over to the bed, climbing onto it and putting herself beside Momo. The younger woman pouts, her brows furrowed as she looks at the shameless older sister. “You said you wouldn’t start without me.”

“It’s not my fault. He was giving me a massage, and I thought he needed some relief, too.” Momo retorted, a smirk on her face, and a feeling of smugness came over her. She turns to you, “You wanted me to help you, right?” Momo was trying to pin all this on you. You can’t help but appreciate the ridiculousness of her claim, especially when you both knew Sana would side with whatever you said.

Sana turns to you, expecting to hear an honest answer. “Momo seduced me. She started moaning when I was massaging her shoulders.” You tell the younger woman. Momo sticks her tongue out at Sana, who returns it with an angry pout. 

“You guys didn’t wait, so it’s only fair that I get to go first.” Sana says before reaching out for you, “Come on, let’s go,” Sana says, playfully kicking her feet. You move over to her and rub your cock against her slit for a brief moment before pushing into her cunt, her plump lips spreading as you push inside of her. Sana shuts her eyes and moans softly as you fill her; even though sex was a daily tradition at this point, she missed having your cock inside her. She runs her hands down your arms and intertwines her hand with yours, smiling at you as you begin to thrust into her. Momo pouts and gently turns onto her side, reaching over and squeezing one of Sana’s engorged breasts, letting some milk leak from her nipple. 

“Mm, you’re both so mean for leaving me out.” Momo whines, unbothered by the situation, just wanting to remind you both she is still there. The older woman turns Sana’s head and kisses her, continuing to squeeze her foster sister’s tits and adding to the pleasure she was feeling. Sana’s whines were muffled because of the kiss. Momo had teased Sana’s tongue, coaxing the younger woman to poke it out before she began sucking on it. Sana could only moan as you thrust into her cunt; she was being pushed to the edge as you both played with her body. You added to the pleasure, sneaking one of your hands away from Sana’s and using it to brush at her clit. 

“N-no, I don’t want to cum yet,” Sana mumbled with a grimace as she felt the waves of pleasure coming over her faster and faster. Her walls began to tighten around your cock, and her body tensed before she exploded, her cream covering your cock as she came. Sana cried out as you kept thrusting, pushing yourself to the edge.

“Sana, I’m cumming, “ you grunted.

Sana quickly pulled you in, holding you tightly against her chest. “Inside! Cum inside me!” Sana shouts, wrapping her legs around you in an attempt to keep you inside. It made you smile to see her so desperate for it, you were always planning on giving Sana a creampie, and this just made you want to do it more. You bury yourself inside Sana, pumping her full of your semen. Sana breath hitches as she feels your hot cum flow inside her. She smiles, and her body relaxes around you. Momo smiles and pinches the tired woman’s nipple before stealing a kiss from her. 

“Did it feel good?” It was a rhetorical question, but Sana answered anyway.

“As good as always.”

Momo wrinkles her nose before laying back and beckoning you to her. “Now it’s my turn.” The elder sister spread her lips much like before. You rub your cum-covered cock against her entrance, making her giggle. “You’re going to leave me all dirty.”

You lean over the pregnant woman, “You’re always dirty when we’re done.” You whisper into her ear. Momo laughs as you slide your dirty cock inside her, moaning as your thrusts begin. You watch as her tits bounce along with your thrusts. They had only grown bigger since she had gotten pregnant. The same could be said for Sana, but Momo’s breasts often stole the limelight. You held onto Momo’s waist as you thrust, moaning as her tight walls clung to you. 

Despite being tired, Sana still had enough energy to return the favor Momo had given her. She turned on her side and latched onto one of Momo’s breasts, suckling on it as fucked the older woman. “Ah, wait! That’s-” Momo bit her lip, her hums filling the room. You leaned down and latched onto her other breast. Together, you and Sana drank from Momo’s breasts, drinking her sweet milk. “That’s too much.” Momo groaned. Sana smiled, knowing that Momo was already on the verge of cumming because of her whines. She pulled away from her sister’s tit and kissed her, giving Momo a taste of her own milk.  While Sana was doing that, you made sure Momo’s breasts were being pleasured, pulling and pinching the engorged nub. Momo began to writhe, the pleasure overwhelming her.  

“Are you going to cum already?” You ask her, continuing to thrust into her wet cunt. 

Momo nods, weakly saying, “I’m gonna cum. Mommy’s going to cum.”

“Oh, you’re calling yourself mommy? I should do that, too!” Sana adds, smiling as she sees the grimace on Momo’s face. The older woman had prided herself on lasting a long time in bed, but since her pregnancy, she’s been cumming just as quickly as the rest of you. You grabbed Momo’s arms, crossing them under her breasts and holding onto them as you sped up your thrusts. Her tits bounced wildly as you rammed your cock inside her, Momo bit her lip as she tried to hold herself together, but it was futile. 

She cried out as she came, and you followed soon after, your cum pouring into Momo’s cunt. You pull out of Momo and lay on one side of her while Sana lies on the other, using her tiny fingers to pull on Momo’s hard nipple before moving her hand down to Momo’s belly. The older woman does the same, touching Sana’s stomach. “Don’t you think it’s great how big our family is going to get soon?” The cheer in her voice was enough to drag Momo into the conversation despite how tired she was. 

“It’ll be so big. Our little brother is going to keep putting his babies into us. Isn’t that right? Daddy?” Momo says, her voice going into a low, sultry tone as she refers to you as Daddy. 

“Of course, how could I not? Especially when we do it every day.” You say a bit of sarcasm in your voice at the end. Sana laughs, and Momo smiles at you, knowing that for all three of you, it was hard to resist the temptation.

[jordiemeow]

could you please elaborate more on young!dad art 🥹

felt fitting to finally answer this today. incredibly late + not formatted i apologise just lazy thoughts. ask was based off the au in this bot :)

literally went above and beyond during your pregnancy despite your insistence that you'd understand if he wasn't ready for a kid. he was there for it all: 2am trips to walmart for cravings, skipping practice for doctors appointments, holding your bump up until his arms ached to provide you with some relief. failed a class that happened to take place every time he sat down with you to make sure you took your prenatals and when you reprimanded him just smiled and said "i can retake a class. can't ever retake this."

he started picking up shifts at the campus rec centre and tutoring on the side, trying to save money. told you it was "just for extra gas and groceries," but you found a file on his laptop labelled baby fund.

it wasn't easy at the start. hormones flaring, miscommunication, the tension of a too-big future looming over two too-young people. but he never left angry, not once. sat outside your dorm once after one fight until you opened the door at 3am just so he could apologize properly.

started calling you mama as soon as you told him you were pregnant.

he was always that guy at your ultrasound appointments. taking blurry pictures to have 'different angles' and asking the tech "wait, is that her nose? oh my god, look at that. she has your nose." as if it's not just a black and white sonogram.

was obsessed with your bump. spent a lot of nights whispering stories his grandma told him as a kid against your skin. it's a different variation every time but you don't have the heart to point it out.

he loves doing skin-to-skin. lies shirtless on the couch after a long day, hair still damp from his post-practice shower, cradling lily and making you recite every cute thing she did while he was gone. he refuses to miss any of it

takes lily to class with him if he has to. girls on campus swoon at him walking around with her in a chest carrier but he's too busy cooing at her or texting you updates throughout the day to notice.

would keep a baby monitor courtside if he could. settles for typing a rushed "Evrythng ok???" in between sets

he leaves little sticky notes around the apartment that say "eat something!!!" "you're doing great mama" "we got this :)" with doodles of lopsided flowers and hearts that look like they were drawn left-handed.

co-ordinates his outfits with lily whenever he can. whether her headband matches his shirt or he has her in custom-made mini stanford merchandise (courtesy of patrick), there's always something matching.

refers exclusively to himself in third person after she's born. occasionally extends to a playful daddy in the bedroom that neither of you can take seriously and just results in fits of laughter.

definitely cries during her first steps. sniffles out a very tearful "look at you go, little legend!" and then denies it later

literally has a tape recorder that he plays when the both of you are tired to keep lily occupied. mostly consists of voice memos talking to lily about his day while he’s walking to class or waiting for the bus. "hi bug. i miss you. daddy had a pop quiz. it sucked. love you." and lily babbles back as if they're having a conversation.

calls you "his girls" and brings you up every chance he gets. most of his post-match interviews end in him gushing over the picture of you both he carries with him everywhere.

[nezuswritingdesk]

sylus parenting au

A/N: sigh, here we go! Girl dad sylus!!! Will try to put the headcanons in chronological order. ALSO WTF DO YOU MEAN TUMBLR POSTED MY DRAFT?!

content warning: pregnancy? family stuff? babies? might cause possible baby fever (KIDS ARE EXPENSIVE. BE RESPONSIBLE.)

Inspired by : @tbaluver @starmocha and every sylus girl dad thing I've seen since (will update here still)

wc: 1.0k

I believe that we all agreed as a fandom that Sylus is a girl dad, I firmly believe that it is in his DNA to be a girl dad to the two most well-loved, spoiled, and protected girls of the N109. He is a happy father of two identical twin girls 🥰🥰 ( their temporary names are Nyx and Asteria)

Sylus had loved these girls since the start of their little lives. He was there for every appointment, every shopping trip when you wanted to buy things for the babies, he helped assemble their cribs, prepared the nursery, etc

The twin girls were born before dawn (aka the usual sleeping time of sylus. He didn't sleep because he stayed up all night to keep you company as the twins arrived). Nyx was born first, and minutes later, Asteria came along.

Absolute sylus clones. Tiny little ladies that look exactly like Sylus.

He cried when he held his daughters for the first time— how can a man like him , a man known for his strength and cruelty, the damn leader of Onychinus, with so much blood in his hands, hold such innocent little lives?

You assured him that the girls don't see him like that. He was their father and he means the world to their small little minds.

Once everything has calmed down, the first thing all four of you did was sleep until noon or the early afternoon. The twin girls called you and their father's chests home.

The twins sleep like otters, always holding hands to never separate.

They are nocturnal creatures like their father dear! When you were recovering and the twins were being fussy at ungodly hours, Sylus would take care of the girls (plus you, ofc you're just as important).

Sylus likes to have skin-to-skin contact with the babies and in turn, the babies like sleeping on his chest throughout

Most days were really spent sleeping. They're sweet little competitive babies, they like their playtime and would do things together. Nyx waits for Asteria and Asteria waits for Nyx.

Please don't separate the twins ever, they will cry. Nyx will fuss if her baby sister isn't in her line of bad baby vision and Asteria will scream if she can't see Nyx.

He can distinguish which twin is which. Nyx has his prominent nose while Asteria has bigger cheeks but to mess around with you , he likes to swap the babies.

Nyx acts like Sylus. Asteria acts like you.

The twins have a favorite uncle individually. They will fight or pout at the other twin when they're spending too much time with their favorite uncle. Asteria likes uncle Keiran and Nyx likes uncle Luke. The uncles enables the girls to let chaos reign.

Mephisto is the baby monitor. No need to expand on this.

Sylus has been making them their own little mephisto's since you both found about that you were pregnant. The birds are based on orioles and we're gifts to the twins on their first birthday. They loved the birds since.

Sylus knows how to dress his daughters! And he dresses them good! He likes giving Nyx the crow onesie (because it matched her grumpy little pouty face) and Asteria gets the smiley dino onesie (because it matches her big baby cheeks and her smile) and sometimes he'd match their clothes or complement theirs

Sylus has nibbled their cheeks multiple times , they girls would giggle and cup his face in their tiny hands

Sylus sings and reads poetry to them to help them sleep or calm down. (He has been doing this since you got pregnant)

Their first word is papa! (It happened when Sylus got home from another business trip and the twins were eager to reunite with him so they immediately walked up to him and began to call him papa.) Sylus broke down crying even more.

Nyx calls Asteria "Ria" and Asteria calls Nyx "Nixie"

They'd always drag someone in the base to play with and have tea time where they act like sylus during his business deals. (the unwilling willing participants: sylus, the twins, mephisto, their orioles, mama reader (but mama reader is willing)

There was one time that tea time was just them two, their orioles, and Mephisto , they even dressed them up.

Very much spoiled girls by you both. They can be picking out dresses or things they like and sylus will be like, "Just one, sweetheart? You can get a second or a third, it'll be fine baby." They definitely swapped and stole each other's clothes

I firmly believe that Sylus is the one that really indulges their requests. He's financially stable, has a good job, and finally has people who'd love and appreciate him. While you're the one trying to remind him not to spoil them too much or they'll end up as brats

Nyx and Asteria are little songbirds — they sing very nicely and like to duet together but they don't have the heart to tell their beloved daddy that he cant sing (lol jk asteria is like daddy you can't sing don't do it and nyx is like daddy my ears hurt from your singing 🥺)

Sylus? do you mean their jungle gym?

as the girls got older, they become more independent and sylus and you teach them necessary life skills

their evols (if they have one) complement each other and was made to protect the other

sylus taught them martial art skills and boxing when the girls were much older to protect themselves besides the use of evols and weapons

their baby brother was born when the twins were around 7 or 8. this little boy is very well loved and protected by his sisters like their lives dependent on it. he looks like you with a small sprinkle of sylus here and there

they have family pictures every year since you and sylus got married — first it was just you two, then a bump carrying the twins, then the twin girls as babies, as toddlers and little kids, you carrying your third child, and now, the three lovely children

at the end of the day, all of the children are well-loved and adored by sylus and you. they are the reason why you two kept going in life, why it was kinder and much softer and thought it wasn't perfect, everything is enough.

a/n : wtf tumblr posted this without me knowing :( I didn't even know it was posted 😭😭 anyways I hope you enjoy this! hope to get the Caleb and zayne papa aus soon! reblogs and everything is appreciated by me thank you 💖💖

[xoxochb]

“do you think I look fat?”

“hmm?” percy looks up from his pile of baby plushies of all sea animals. he’d only intended to buy one or two per your wish. though once he found one he had ending up buying half of the store. “no. I think you look nice. pregnant.”

you scowl at your husband. “no shit.”

“you don’t look fat. you look nice, I’m serious.”

your hand goes subconsciously to your growing belly, rubbing it as you turn to the side to stare at your reflection in the mirror. you’d lifted your shirt to trace your fingers over the stretch marks beginning to show around the bump.

“are you just saying that because you’re obligated to as my husband?”

percy stands from the bed, making his way over to where you stand. he begins by taking each of your nimble hands into his own and then kneeling before you.

“I mean it.” his lips fall against the skin of your belly, kissing it gently. “you look beautiful.”

you untangle one hand from his and run it through his hair thankfully. it doesn’t distract percy as he goes on with his pecks, murmuring mindless things to the baby within you.

after a month of your pregnancy, he had bought a book for you to read about it (since he could not with his dyslexia). you had obliged to read him the important details he would need to know as the father.

one that had stuck to him was speaking to the baby. it would help grow more of a connection with them before the arrival. and it would additionally help them as they find familiar sounds once they’re out.

such as your heartbeat— or percy’s voice since he can’t seem to detach himself from you. in the mornings he would greet them, and at night sing soft lullabies. even during the day when he deemed it necessary to update them on the happenings of the life outside of the womb where they live.

“perce.”

“hmm?” his head lifts, chin resting on your belly.

you remove your hand from his hair and use it to search as you feel movement inside of you. percy doesn’t comprehend your movitves until your face lights. you take his hand and place it over the area you feel the baby kicking subtly.

he pokes it to elicit another kick back. then, he kisses it instead, feeling them kick once again against his mouth this time.

“do you want to sit?”

“no.” you shake your head lightly. “I’m fine.”

“tell me if you want to.” percy continues to poke at the active infant, enjoying every millisecond of it. “does it hurt?”

“no. but if you keep poking me I might puke.”

percy’s mouth curves into an O shape as he rips his finger away from your protruding belly. “noted.”

“you can still touch. just don’t poke.” you take his hand back and place his palm over where the baby lay. he lets it settle to feel this way instead.

“please don’t puke on me.”

you laugh gingerly. “then don’t poke me!”

“fine. it’s a deal, then.”

you nod victoriously and outstretch a hand to him, wiggling your fingers for him to intertwine. “come. I want to lay down.”

“yes ma’am.” percy takes your hand as he stands up.

he guides you to the bed, helping you get settled. once you sit comfortably, he adjusts the pillows behind you before tugging up the blanket around your shoulders.

“thank you.”

percy hums and presses a kiss to your forehead. “am I allowed to sit? or will that nauseate you too?”

you scowl at him. “that’s not funny.”

“of course not. do you need anything? ice cream? more books? a strip tease? a massage?”

“ooo, strip tease.” you clap your hands excitedly, grin gracing your lips.

“since you asked so nicely.”

you should have asked him to impregnate you sooner if you knew this was the treatment you’d receive.

[avengxrz]

fic recs while i rest my brain!

hello friends! just wanted to drop by and give a little update. i’m currently taking a break from writing because work has been keeping me really busy, and life has been a lot lately. i just haven’t had the time or headspace to sit down and focus the way i want to, so i’m letting myself breathe for a bit.

however, i’ve been reading some incredible fics recently that made me laugh, cry, and fully spiral in the best way possible. these writers have seriously gotten me through the week, and i swear their work is just that good.

so while i rest and recharge, here are some fic recommendations from people whose writing made me feel everything all at once:

JAKE SERESIN FICS

three steps behind by @hangmanwrites summary: you wore the dress. he wore a t-shirt. you waited ninety-seven minutes. he smiled like nothing was wrong. and when you said you were tired, he still thought love was enough. side note: the writing in this fic is so good. it feels like the author actually lived through it. everything is written in a way that makes it feel real and honest. the emotions are quiet but heavy, and it really sticks with you.

a hangman-made disaster by @hangmanwrites summary: you swore you hated jake seresin, but one drunk night proved you were also stupid. now you're staring at a very positive pregnancy test in your bathroom, wearing an oversized shirt you stole from him, and wishing this was just a nightmare, but it's not. it's real. and unfortunately, so is the seresin baby currently plotting world domination in your uterus. side note: this was so good i am actually unwell. i need a part two so bad it hurts. the chaos, the tension, the way she’s standing there in his shirt like her whole life didn’t just flip upside down? perfection. and the line about the seresin baby plotting world domination? i laughed way too hard and then immediately felt bad for her. please i just know part two would go feral. give us more i am begging.

through the dark, back to you by @all-my-love-for-harry summary: a former profiler. a fighter pilot. a past that refuses to stay buried. when old ghosts resurface in san diego, the truth becomes the most dangerous thing of all. side note: this one had me hooked right away. the mix of mystery and emotion is so good, and the writing makes it feel like a movie in your head.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys by @tw1sters summary: jake seresin has pushed through the worst of war, but nothing can compare to the fear of you saying i love you. so he runs. side note: this one hurt in a quiet kind of way. jake surviving war but being scared of love feels so real. the fear, the running, the way he pulls back when it matters most. i just know this fic is going to break me in the best way.

BRADLEY BRADSHAW FICS

but it's warmer in your hands by @bodhiscurls summary: a night of domesticity is incomplete without you kissing your clingy husband goodnight. side note: i love me some domestic bradley bradshaw, it’s always so good. i swear it makes my heart melt every time. give me all the clingy husband vibes please.

picture perfect by @sometimesanalice side note: oh goodness this one hurts in the best way. please just make bradley her daddy already, he deserves that so much. the way he loves? the way he holds on? i am on the floor actually. crying. screaming. kicking my feet.

BOB FLOYD FICS

what happens in vegas, stays in vegas by @bodhiscurls summary: robert 'bob' floyd and you have always harboured feelings for each other, hidden in hotel rooms, stolen glances and secret kisses shared across the base. except one night in vegas celebrating the end of a gruelling mission finds you and bob waking up the next day unsure of how you made it to his room, the remenants of tequila pounding in your head and a rock the size of san diego on your ring finger. and what scares him the most is just how is he going to explain this to your brother. side note: oh this one had me grinning like a fool. the slow burn tension? the secret kisses? the vegas chaos?? i ate it all up. and waking up married to bob floyd? please. that is fanfic heaven. but the real kicker? the panic over telling your brother (ha it's rooster). i just know that part is going to be hilarious and stressful and so painfully good. i need to see how bob handles that because he is absolutely sweating bullets and still in love.

these are what i just read recently and i loved every single one of them. i’ll probably add more as i keep reading because i can never get enough of good writing. again, thank you to all the amazing writers for sharing your stories, you have no idea how much joy and comfort your words bring. see you around, happy reading!

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Prologue

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk)

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: Hawk juggles her life between Julia, Julia's son J, and the Cody family. Slow Burn. Word Count: 1,667 Content Warning: No description of the reader, other than the nickname. Warnings will be updated chapter by chapter. Mentions of sex (educational). A/N: I have been writing and editing this story for the better part of two months, piecing it together like Frankenstein's monster. Hawk's relationship with J is everything to me rn. I love Pope as a deeply flawed character and I hope you enjoy what's coming down the pipeline for this. I haven't decided just how long this fic is going to be total, but we're in for a ride. As always, your feedback and comments are most welcome.

“Hey,” J greeted as he stepped into the kitchen, dropping his backpack on the floor by Hawk’s feet. She was sitting on a barstool with her laptop in front of her, working on a schedule for the upcoming orders she had at the shop. “Busy?” 

“When am I not?” Hawk answered rhetorically, giving J her attention. “What’s up? How was school?” He opened the fridge, grabbed the carton of orange juice, turned to face Hawk and took a big swig right from the carton, then put it back. “Ew, kid. Nasty. Gross. Disgusting. Foul. Bad.” This made J’s grin widen at the reaction he got out of her. It was times like this that Hawk wished she had a spray bottle.  

“You don’t drink it anyway,” He shrugged, knowing exactly what he was doing. Little Shit Behavior, Hawk had told him once, and he ran with it. 

“Gee, I wonder why. It's not like you've been leaving little floaties in my drinks your whole life or anything." Hawk brought her attention back down to the schedule. “I swear every teenage boy does this and I cannot for the life of me understand why you have aversions to glassware.” J leaned on the opposite side of the counter, his arms holding his weight up. 

“I could leave floaties in it if you miss the good ol' days,” Hawk laughed, stretching her back.

“Keep this up and you’ll be on dish duty for the next week.” Her threats were flimsy at best. The kid picked up after himself and left the house spotless, so much so that he didn’t even dirty the glasses she had, Hawk thought with a sigh as she shook her head. "What are your plans for the night? Any homework you gotta handle?"

“I’m gonna go check on mom, then head over to Nicky’s. There's a pre-calc test on Friday that we need to study for. Is that cool?” Hawk nodded, returning her attention partially to her laptop.

“You gonna be around for dinner?” Click here, move this to Tuesday, a cancellation for Thursday -the motions were second nature to her by now.

“Might not be back until later, depending on how mom’s doing. And what dinner is.” He finished with a raised brow as Hawk glanced up. Cheeky little bastard. 

“I’m thinking some take-out? Maybe Thai, maybe Indian. I haven’t made up my mind. Want me to get your usual and stick it in the fridge?” Hawk offered, already knowing what his answer was when he smiled.

“You’re the best.” 

“Oh, I know, but I don’t get tired of hearing it though.” J flicked a piece of debris that was on the island at Hawk, but chuckled nonetheless. 

“Speaking of Nicky,” She started, but was interrupted by J groaning and pushing himself off the island.

“Not again,” He begged, hitting his forehead against the counter gently.

“No, I’m serious, J. You’re being safe, right? Teen pregnancy is no joke, and STI’s are even less funny. Both of them stick with you for life…in most cases.”

“Nicky isn’t pregnant and she doesn’t have an STI,”

“You never know, kid. Anything can happen even when you’re careful, but the odds are more staggering if you’re not. Nothing against Nicky, I like her a whole lot, but I’m protecting her against you too. It goes both ways. I’m not condoning what you little heathens get up to in your free time, but I also know I can't stop it, so there’s condoms in the hall closet, top shelf to the left. Take what you need, no questions asked. I just want you to be careful. If I raised one kid just for another to come rolling in after the first one grows up, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Well ahead of you on that.” Hawk had to bite her lips closed and squeeze her eyes shut when he let that slip. She held her hands up, shaking her head. 

“You’re using them. That’s all that matters. No questions. I don’t need specifics” Hawk stood from her stool and walked over to J. “Now I need a shot of bleach to kill whatever brain cells just survived through that.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“You don’t gotta keep bringing this up,” She cupped his youthful cheeks in her hands, squishing them just slightly, making the last word slur.

“Yeah I do, so long as you're young and your frontal lobe hasn’t fully formed, I will bring this up every chance I can. You'll thank me later, believe me. You’re like my son, J. It kills me to see you getting older, but I trust you. You’re a good kid, you go to school and get good grades, and you’re smart” Hawk made a face, “…er than most other boys your age, so I’ll give you that, but you know you can come to me if you need anything, right? I know you know that, but do you understand what I am saying?” He nodded and Hawk kissed his forehead before ruffling his hair and freeing him to go sit back on her stool, but not before he took a playful swipe at her as she retreated. “Good. Do you need a ride?”

“Nah, I should be good on my bike.” He said as he fixed his hair.

“Alright, try not to stay out too late. It’s a school night.”

“Yes, mom,” Hawk fixed him with a look and he returned one sheepishly. J moved around the island to grab his backpack and wrap his arm around Hawk’s shoulders for a quick hug and a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll try not to wake you up when I get back.” 

“You better not be out that late, kid. Tell your mom I said to give me a call and please shoot me a text when you’re on your way back so I know you're aright.” He nodded and took off out the front door.  

Hawk’s relationship with J was both complicated and simple. She grew up with Julia and the Cody brothers.Like a broken record, Smurf took her in at 13 when her own mother died and she had nowhere left to go. The tumultuous relationship Hawk had with her mother before she died was less than J currently had with Julia, and while Julia had her own set of problems, J still had his mother.

And he had Hawk. 

Since J was two, he spent most of his days with her while Julia did what Julia did. Sweet Julia -a child of encouraged alcohol abuse by Smurf, grew into an adult with a crippling heroin addiction who had a baby she had no business having, but Hawk loved Julia as a sister so she made sure that baby was well cared for in any way she could. 

At twenty one, struggling to keep her double life afloat, Hawk was contacted by a lawyer from North Carolina -her absent father wasn’t actually an absent father. Her mother kept her from him in any way she could, forged documents, and Hawk was none the wiser until she was met with a will from her now deceased father -along with a letter telling her how sorry he was about the way that things turned out with Hawk and her mother.

It turned out that he was very wealthy -he owned property along the east coast that he left to her, along with a hefty sum of $4.8 million in liquid cash after taxes along with some other assets. The how’s and the why’s of Hawk’s disconnection with him didn’t matter anymore. Both of her parents were long gone and her world kept spinning. 

Hawk kept the real estate running on the east coast with the same property management her father had just to keep the money flowing in -occasionally making the trip out to check in on things. It was passive income that would keep her afloat should anything happen and that was a security she never had before. 

With some of the money that made its way to Hawk’s bank account, she bought a house near the beach between Smurf’s place and Julia’s. It was a three bedroom on a hill that had a small infinity pool and a wrap around back porch that faced the ocean. The first sunset she witnessed in that house, which was empty minus an air mattress and a duffel bag of clothes, was something she would always remember. 

Hawk didn’t go to college, and she barely graduated high school due to disinterest and the lovely upbringing she had -add on J and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell to go even if she wanted to. 

She was smart, charmingly so, but everything about a classroom setting made her skin crawl in the worst way. What she did have, though, was a passion for plants and so she leaned into it because she could now that finances weren't an issue. 

Opening her own plant nursery wasn’t easy and it consumed every waking second that she wasn’t already giving to J, who had turned three at that point. It was tricky, but doable, and the next thing she knew her business was up, running, and flourishing. The clientele grew exponentially within that first year with weddings, funerals, and other events and within two years Hawk was a well known name in Oceanside with clients coming from all around Southern California. 

Sometimes it felt like she was living someone else’s life because this was not the way hers was supposed to pan out.  Not in the slightest.

Keeping Hawk’s life with the Cody's and her life with Julia and J completely separate was another level of hell on Earth for her in the beginning, especially when she had baby J most of the time. Julia made her swear up and down that no matter what, she wouldn’t speak to them about her and her son and it was a promise Hawk kept wholly. Anytime one of the brothers came into the shop or stopped by Hawk’s house while she had J, she simply said she was watching a friend’s kid. No further explanation. No questions asked. And so that’s who J was to them -Hawk’s friend’s kid, which wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. 

Hawk worked her way through email after email, put her staff schedule together for the next month, dealt with time off requests, and went through order sheets from her suppliers for the next hour when her phone rang on the island.

FSP flashed on the screen. She swiped to answer and put it on speaker.

“This is a collect call from Folsom State Prison on behalf of-“ “Andrew Cody” Pope’s voice interrupted the automated message before it continued. “Do you accept the charges to connect the call?”

“I accept.”

Please like, reblog & comment :)

[sunwoniie]

KID

Summary : You discover that you're pregnant while on a mission on a completely different planet in another galaxy, and the father is your captain, Han Yun Jae.

Pairing: Captain!Han Yun Jae x reader

Warnings : suggestive, age gap, pregnancy, enemies to lovers

You placed the blood sample into the self-analysis machine and pressed the button to start the process. Your eyes darted around the room as you anxiously checked for any signs of someone approaching while the machine worked. 

It’s been about three months since you left Earth, bound for another planet to explore, test, and determine if it could sustain human life. Every two years, teams like yours are sent on eight-month missions to scout new worlds. The organization dispatches countless teams across the galaxy to increase humanity’s chances of finding a suitable home. 

The machine beeped, signaling that the results were ready. It started printing, the faint sound of ink being laid on the paper filling the room. Nervously, you bit your thumbnail, your eyes flickering around as you waited. The moment it finished, you snatched the sheet, your hands trembling as you scanned the results frantically. 

beta-hCG hormone: 11,233 mIU/mL. 

Fuck. 

You see, the beta-hCG hormone determines if a woman is pregnant. Levels below 5 mIU/mL indicate no pregnancy, but anything above that confirms it. Beta-hCG levels double every 48 to 72 hours, which also helps estimate how far along the pregnancy is. 

You are roughly three months pregnant. 

How had you missed the signs for three whole months? you kept blaming the vomiting, mood swings, headaches, missed periods, and cravings on the stress of being in space. It all seemed so obvious now. 

You pulled out your vitals smartwatch to update your status, indicating your pregnancy so it wouldn’t send you period reminders. As you filled out the prompts, answering the usual medical questions, you froze at the final one. 

What date do you think you became pregnant? 

The words stared back at you, and you stopped breathing. Slowly, you navigated to the calendar and selected the date—the night you made a huge mistake. The night you slept with your captain, Han Yun Jae. The man you couldn’t stand. And who couldn’t stand you. 

It happened the night before the mission began. The team had decided to drink together in his office as a farewell to Earth. you had a few drinks, and soon enough, you was blurting out stupid things. 

Everyone else had already left. you was the only one still there, struggling to stay upright. you tried to push yourself to your feet but ended up leaning heavily against the wall for support as you made your way to the door. Yun Jae, meanwhile, was tidying up, collecting the empty bottles when he turned and noticed you crash to the floor. 

He laughed. 

Groaning against the cold, hard surface, you muttered, “Ajhussi, it’s not funny. Why are you laughing?” you tried to push yourself up but barely managed to lift your upper half. 

“I give up,” you mumbled, flopping onto your back. “I’m sleeping here.” Covering your eyes with your arm to block the soft ceiling light, you got ready to pass out on the floor. 

“No, you’re not,” Yun Jae said, clearly unimpressed as he continued cleaning his desk. 

“Pretty sure I am,” you retorted, your words slurring. “Could you pass me a blanket? That would be so sweet of you—for once.” 

You heard his footsteps approach and felt his shadow fall over you. 

“Y/N, get up,” he ordered, his tone exasperated. 

“You had a chance to be sweet, and you blew it,” you said, stubbornly refusing to move. 

He crouched down beside you. “Y/N, get up,” he repeated, but you ignored him, lying there defiantly. 

“Maybe that’s why you’re still single at fifty,” you muttered, shooting him a smug grin. 

“I’m thirty-nine,” he snapped. 

“Same thing. You’re old,” you teased, earning a heavy sigh of frustration from him. 

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice taking on an edge of irritation. 

You finally lifted your arm from your eyes and glanced at him with a smirk. “Ajhussi~,” you sang in a playful, whining tone. 

“Last warning,” he growled. 

“You sound like my dad,” you said with a laugh, enjoying his growing frustration. 

“Maybe that’s because you’re acting like a child,” he shot back sharply. 

The smile fell from your face, replaced by a frown. “Stop calling me a kid,” you said firmly, your brows furrowing. “I’m almost thirty. I’m not a kid anymore.” 

“Then get up,” he challenged. 

You stubbornly turned your head away from him. “I can’t,” you mumbled, your voice tinged with something almost pitiful. 

For a moment, there was silence. Then, without warning, you felt his arm slide beneath your knees and another under your back. 

“What are you doing?” you asked as he lifted you effortlessly off the floor. 

“Taking you to your room,” he replied gruffly. 

You didn’t argue. you let him carry you down the hallway, though he nearly dropped you a couple of times—he was drunk too. When you reached your room, he set you down so you could unlock the door. you fumbled for your keys, but your vision blurred. Bending down to meet the lock’s height, you tried again, only for the key to fall from your shaking hand. 

“Fuck,” you muttered, straightening up too quickly. The dizziness hit you like a wave, and you swayed, trying to regain your balance. 

Yun Jae sighed, picked up the keys, and opened the door himself. He tossed the keys onto the counter inside, then stood there, holding the door open with an irritated expression. He was clearly eager to get this over with and go to bed. 

“Thank you very much, ajhussi,” you said sarcastically, bowing in mock gratitude. 

As you bent forward, you nearly lost your balance again, pitching toward the floor. Yun Jae caught you at the last second, groaning in frustration. 

“What a dumb woman,” he muttered, hauling you upright by my forearm and steadying you with a hand on you waist. 

He guided you toward the bed, but just as he was about to set you down, you tripped over an empty sample container. Instinctively, you grabbed onto him for support—and dragged him down with you. 

He falls on top of you. 

He's heavy, but not unbearable. His face is only inches away from mine, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. For a moment, neither of you moves. It’s like time itself has frozen, holding you in this strange, uncomfortable limbo. 

“Y/N,” he mutters, his voice low and strained, though whether it’s from anger or something else, you can’t tell. 

“What?” you whispered back, my voice barely audible. 

His eyes lock onto mine, sharp and focused despite the haze of alcohol clouding both your senses. you can’t bring yourself to look away, even though your heart is racing, pounding so hard that you are sure he can hear it. 

“You… are such a pain in the ass,” he says, his tone half-annoyed, half-something-else. 

“And you’re—” Your retort dies in my throat as his gaze drops to your lips. 

The air between you shifts, suddenly thick with tension. Your breathing quickens as you realize he hasn’t moved away yet. Instead, he’s still hovering over you, his weight pressing you slightly into the bed. 

“You should get off me,” you manage to say, though your voice lacks conviction. 

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his lips twitch, almost like he’s fighting some internal battle. “You’re right,” he finally says, but he doesn’t move. His voice is quieter now, almost a whisper. “I should.” 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, his hand, still gripping your arm for balance, softens its hold. His thumb brushes against your skin, sending a jolt through your entire body. you hate the way your stomach flips at the contact, hate the way your heart seems to betray you by beating even faster. 

“Yun Jae,” you say, but it comes out weaker than you intend. 

And then, before you can say anything else, his lips crash into yours. 

It’s not soft or tentative; it’s desperate, rough, and filled with the kind of frustration that’s been building between you for months. you freeze for a second, your brain scrambling to catch up with what’s happening. But then, without thinking, you kiss him back. 

The alcohol has dulled your inhibitions, but it’s not just that. There’s something raw and undeniable about this moment, about him. All the bickering, all the glares and sharp words, it all feels like it’s been leading to this. 

His hand moves to your waist, gripping tightly as if to ground himself. you find yourself pulling him closer, fingers tangling in his shirt as the kiss deepens. For once, you’re not fighting—at least, not with words. 

The night blurs after that. The tension, the anger, the alcohol—it all swirls together, igniting something you’ve both been too stubborn to acknowledge. 

You stare at the screen in front of you, your vitals smartwatch blinking its persistent question: 

What date do you think you became pregnant? 

Your fingers hover over the calendar, hesitating as the memories rush back. That night, so long ago but still so vivid. The way his lips pressed against mine, the heat of his hands against your skin, the way you gave in to something you both swore you hated. 

You press the date, and the screen logs it with an impersonal beep. The action feels like a release, but it only brings more questions, more weight. 

Do you wish to notify the captain? 

You let out a hollow laugh, though there's nothing remotely funny about it. Notify the captain. As if that wouldn’t open a floodgate of complications. How could you possibly tell him that one moment of weakness has brought you to this point? 

Your hand hovers over the screen, your mind racing with indecision. But before you can decide, the sound of approaching footsteps pulls you from your thoughts. Your heart lurches, and you quickly shove the device into your pocket, forcing a calm expression as the door slides open. 

There he is—Han Yun Jae. Cold, unapproachable, and as sharp as ever. His eyes meet yours, and you wonder, just for a fleeting moment, if he can see it in your face.

"Y/N," he says curtly. "We’re heading out for another exploration." 

You nod, trying to suppress the flutter in your chest. "Of course." 

He steps closer, his presence dominating the room. The tension from that night still hangs thick in the air, unspoken, unresolved. And though he doesn’t know it yet, you can’t shake the fear that everything is about to change. 

“We need to leave soon,” he continues, his tone impassive, his eyes scanning the equipment scattered around the room. you envy his ability to keep his composure, his ability to seem unaffected. You feel like you are on the edge of breaking, but you can’t let him see it. Not now. 

"Right," you say, trying to steady my voice. "I’ll be ready in a minute." 

You grab your gear, moving quickly, gathering the essentials for today’s exploration. We’re on a breathable planet, so you don’t need much—just the basics: a scanner, sample containers, a few tools for analysis. It should be a straightforward mission. But everything feels off today. 

As you adjust your pack, you feel the familiar nausea begin to churn in your stomach again. It’s not as intense as it could be, but it’s enough to make your head spin. A wave of dizziness threatens to knock you off balance, but you keep moving. you can’t afford to look weak. 

We head out to begin the survey of the planet. The bright sun glints off the barren landscape, but you can barely focus on the view. Yun Jae leads the way, as always, with his confident stride and cold, calculating gaze. 

You follow, but every step feels heavier today. My thoughts keep drifting back to the life growing inside you, the life that you still haven’t told him about. you won’t—not like this. Not when the tension between you is still so thick, so unresolved. 

The exploration continues, though it’s more difficult than usual. You are exhausted—physically, mentally. Your body feels like it’s betraying you. you keep trying to hide it, but the pallor of your skin, the way your movements seem slower, doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Y/N, you’re okay?” Ha-neul, one of the engineers, asks as she glances at you. 

You offer another tight smile, masking the fatigue and nausea swirling inside you. “I’m fine.” 

But Ha-neul doesn’t buy it. She knows you too well. 

We continue, and as you near the edge of a cliff to take a sample from a distant ridge, Yun Jae pauses and turns to you, his eyes glinting with that familiar authoritative gleam. 

“We need to get a sample from that ridge,” he says, pointing to the jagged rocky formation. 

“Yeah, on it,” you reply, starting to walk toward it. But before you take more than a few steps, you catch him watching you—his gaze lingering on your face, his expression tight with what looks like worry. 

He holds up a hand, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait. You stay here and keep an eye on the equipment.” 

You clench your teeth, holding back the sharp retort that rises to your lips. “Why do you always assume I can’t handle it?” 

He doesn’t look at you but responds in that cold, condescending tone that always sends a rush of heat to your face. 

“Because you still act like a kid who doesn’t know how to do anything. You get distracted, and I can’t afford to babysit you.” that was just an excuse covering the fact that he was worry at you state just by one look at your face but you didn’t need to know that. 

Your heart lurches, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out. 

“I’m not a kid!” you snapped, my voice sharper and louder than you intended. The words hung in the air, heavy with frustration and unspoken meaning. “I’m twenty-eight, for God’s sake! Stop treating me like some helpless child.” 

You turned to face him fully, your glare unwavering as you continued. “I get that being ancient must make you think everyone younger than you need to be babysat, but guess what? I’m capable, and I’ve been handling things on my own for a long time now.” 

You noticed the silence that followed your outburst, the kind that was too heavy to ignore. Slowly, your eyes drifted past Han Yun Jae to the rest of the crew standing a few feet away. Their faces were pressed with a mix of concern and curiosity, clearly having heard every word. 

Some of them exchanged awkward glances, unsure whether to intervene or pretend they hadn’t just witnessed you snap. Others avoided eye contact entirely, their focus suddenly absorbed by the dirt beneath their boots. 

Heat rushed to your face as you realized the spectacle you’d just created. Your hands clenched at your sides, embarrassment and anger bubbling together. you turned away from Yun Jae and the crew, your voice quieter but no less firm as you muttered, “This conversation is over.” 

Without another word, you walked off, ignoring the weight of their stares as you walked to get the samples. 

Your footsteps crunch over the rocky terrain as you make your way toward the ridge, your breath shallow and uneven. you feel the weight of their eyes on your back—on both Yun Jae and you. But you can’t care anymore. 

You are not a kid. You are not the same person you was when you first met him, when you used to argue over everything like it was your only language. He might still see you as that naive child, but you are not. you won’t let him define you anymore. 

The harsh wind stings your skin as you reach the base of the ridge, your hands shaking as you adjust the sample container. you glance over your shoulder briefly, your mind still tangled with everything that’s happened. And, of course, Yun Jae is standing there, watching you with that cold, calculating gaze, his posture rigid as if waiting for you to make a mistake. 

You can’t stand it. 

You remember the first time you met him. you were just a kid—barely out of childhood, if I’m being honest—and he was always there. Always around because of your father. Han Yun Jae wasn’t just your father’s protégé; he was almost like a shadow. Quiet, intense, and seemingly perfect in everything he did. 

Your father had always insisted that Yun Jae was a brilliant mind, someone who could shape the future of your father’s work, someone who deserved the respect of everyone around him. But you never saw him that way. 

To you, he was just your father’s trainee who treated you like you were beneath him. He never smiled, never showed anything that resembled to warmth, and he always treated you like an inconvenience. A distraction. 

You hated that. you hated the way he looked at you with cold indifference, as if you were just a little girl who didn’t understand the world around you. He’d always brush you off, belittle your attempts to prove yourself. At first, it was almost funny—his condescension was so obvious—but as you got older, it started to gnaw at you. you wanted to prove him wrong. you wanted to show him that you were more than just a child, that you could handle things on your own. 

But every time you tried, he pushed you further away. His icy demeanor only seemed to grow colder, and his words became sharper. 

“Don’t be so naive, Y/N,” he’d say, his voice always so cold and clipped. “You’ll never be able to understand. Stay out of it.” 

And you listened to him. you listened because he was older, because he had always been the smart one, the disciplined one. you were just the spoiled little girl of his mentor. 

But something changed after you hit your late teens. The more you pushed back, the more things began to shift. What started as petty bickering turned into real animosity. The tension between you grew, and your arguments became sharper, more cutting. There was no longer any pretense of camaraderie between us. you hated him. And somewhere, buried deep within his cold, emotionless exterior, you began to feel like he hated you too. 

It wasn’t just the typical friction of youth anymore. It became personal. It was as if he saw you as nothing more than an obstacle—a nuisance to be dealt with, nothing more.  

And as you continue collecting the sample, you can feel the weight of his presence behind you, but it doesn’t feel quite as suffocating as before. 

A few days later, after hours spent scanning and collecting samples, your head was spinning, and your body felt like it was on the verge of shutting down. Exhaustion and nausea clawed at you, and you wasn’t sure how much longer you could keep pretending you were fine. Because you weren't. 

You silently prayed you could hold on until you reached the base. Pressing a hand to your stomach, you tried to steady the roiling turmoil inside you. 

“You look like you’re about to collapse,” Ha-neul said, her voice cutting through the haze clouding your thoughts. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked as you finally stepped through the base doors. 

You waved her off, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, just a little tired. I’ll rest soon.” 

You made your way to your quarters, your stomach churning with every step. As soon as you were inside, you rushed to the small bathroom. The door clicked shut behind you, and you barely had time to close your eyes before the nausea hit full force. 

You kneeled in front of the toilet, your body jerking with each wave of sickness. Ypur stomach emptied itself, the bitter taste of bile rising in your throat. you couldn't stop it. It felt like it went on forever. 

After what felt like an eternity, you finally pulled yourself together enough to sit back on your heels, your mouth dry and your face pale. you took a few shallow breaths, trying to steady myself. Your mind was spinning—sick, tired, and overwhelmed by the weight of everything that had happened, everything that was happening. 

You stood, hands shaking, and rinsed your mouth with water, trying to rid yourself of the horrible taste. Reaching for your toothbrush and toothpaste, you began brushing your teeth automatically, trying to focus on something, anything, other than the racing thoughts in your head. 

It was then that you saw him. 

He was standing in the doorway behind you, his arms crossed, watching you through the mirror. you froze for a split second, your breath catching in your throat. you hadn’t heard him approach, hadn’t noticed him at all. He looked so out of place, his cold stare boring into you even as you tried to keep your composure. 

But you couldn’t. Your heart was pounding. Still, you refused to look at him directly. you kept your eyes on the mirror, focusing on the task at hand—brushing your teeth, pretending he wasn’t there. 

You felt the pressure of his gaze, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. you just… kept brushing, as if you could make everything go away. 

Just as you was about to spit and rinse your mouth, his voice broke the silence. 

“Are you pregnant?” 

His words hit like a thunderclap, shocking you into stillness. you didn’t respond, not immediately. Your hand froze mid-rinse, and you had to fight to steady myself, your thoughts racing. 

He was right. Something was off. But you couldn’t let him know that. 

You finished rinsing, washing your mouth quickly as you replaced the toothpaste and toothbrush. 

The silence between you thickened. He was still standing there, his posture unchanged, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze never wavered, and you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your neck. 

You turned slowly to face him, forcing a neutral expression, but inside, you were panicking. He was so close now. Too close. Your chest tightened with the sudden proximity. 

“What makes you think that?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, even though your heart was hammering in your chest. 

His eyes flickered with a slight, cold amusement. “You’ve been acting strange lately. More tired, more nauseous. The way you keep your distance when food comes around… You’ve been avoiding things, avoiding people. And the way you pale when you're on your feet too long—it all points in one direction." 

you laughed—too sharply, too quickly. “I’m just tired. You know, long missions and all that.” 

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unwavering. “And the fact that your periods haven’t come for 3 months? That’s just… coincidence?” 

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. you couldn’t hide the shock in your eyes fast enough. “How do you know that?” you said, your voice betraying you with a slight quiver. 

Yun Jae’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t break eye contact. “I have my ways.” 

You backed away slightly, your heart racing, your mouth suddenly dry. "That's creepy," you muttered, trying to brush past him. you just needed to get out of there, away from his scrutiny. 

But before you could even turn the door handle, his voice stopped you in your tracks. “You didn’t respond.” you look at him but you turned back to the door, your hand on the handle, but before you could open it fully, he stepped forward, blocking your way. you didn’t look up at him, but his presence was suffocating. 

He leaned in, his voice lower now, the sharp edge gone. “You didn’t answer me.” he repeated in an irritated tone. 

You didn’t have the strength to fight him anymore. Your body was exhausted, your mind overwhelmed, and you just wanted to escape—escape this situation, escape him, escape the uncertainty swirling inside you. 

You met his eyes, standing tall despite the shakiness you felt inside. “You already know the answer.”the words coming out colder than you intended. 

Yun Jae’s gaze softened just a fraction, but the icy wall was still there, still firmly in place. He didn’t respond, but his silence spoke volumes. 

And with that, you pushed past him, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway, the cool metal of the ship offering no comfort anymore. you couldn’t let him get to you. Not now. Not when everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. 

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a whole lot more complicated. 

Days turned into weeks, and you avoided Yun Jae like the plague. you couldn’t face him—not after that conversation. Every meal became a calculated maneuver to dodge him. you either skipped eating entirely, braving the gnawing hunger, or grabbed your plate and retreated to your room or the lab. The smells of food only worsened the nausea, and you didn’t want him—or anyone else—noticing your discomfort. 

But no matter how much you tried to act like nothing was wrong, you could feel the truth pressing against you, literally. Your body was changing. Your bump was small but undeniable now, a subtle curve that you could no longer ignore. you started wearing baggier clothes, anything to keep it hidden. Yet you knew this wasn’t a problem you could cover up forever. 

Late at night, when you are alone in your quarters, the weight of it all would crush you. You would sit on the edge of your bed, your hands trembling as they rested on your growing belly. A part of you wanted to reject it, deny what was happening. But the fluttering beneath your fingers was impossible to ignore. A tiny life was growing inside you, and it terrified you. 

You found yourself crying more often than you cared to admit. Silent, muffled sobs into your pillow as you thought about everything you would imagined for your first child. You'd always pictured being married, having a partner by your side, someone you could lean on when things got tough. you thought about warm nurseries, family gatherings, and laughter. Not this—being stranded on a distant planet, surrounded by cold metal walls, with the father of your child barely able to tolerate you. 

The thought of Yun Jae made the tears come harder. you didn’t want to admit it, but a part of you had always cared about his opinion, even when you claimed to hate him. And now, the idea of raising this child alone, of carrying this weight by myself, was unbearable 

The days blurred together, and you kept your distance from Yun Jae. you didn’t start conversations—not with him. When he spoke to you, it was only about the mission. 

When it came to meals, you continued your routine of avoidance. The smells in the mess hall used to turn your stomach, but now that you were in your second trimester, your nausea had finally eased. you started enjoying food again—more than you ever had before. you were eating everything in sight. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to sit with the crew. You’d grab your plate and retreat to your room or the lab. It was better than facing Yun Jae’s gaze, which had changed in ways you couldn’t understand. 

You’d catch him looking at you, his dark eyes fixed on you from across the room. It wasn’t the usual cold glare. There was something else there—concern, maybe. Worry? you weren't sure. All you knew was that it made your skin crawl. It made you feel exposed, like he could see everything you were trying so hard to hide. 

The lab was eerily quiet after everyone left. you worked in silence, the hum of machinery and the occasional beep from the scanner your only companions. It was better this way—being alone. you could focus on your work without the weight of their stares or the hushed conversations that sometimes carried your name when they thought you weren't listening. 

Before leaving, Ha-neul had paused by your workstation, her gaze lingering with concern. 

“Y/N, do you want me to bring you a plate?” she asked, her voice gentle but persistent. 

“I’m not hungry,” you replied curtly, not looking up from my work. 

She hesitated but eventually nodded, joining the others as they filed out of the lab. The door hissed shut behind them, and you sighed, grateful for the solitude. 

Minutes passed, maybe longer. you were deep in analysis, your hands deftly adjusting the settings on the equipment, when the door opened again. you ignored it, assuming someone had forgotten something. 

It wasn’t until a plate slid onto the desk beside you that you stopped. 

You blinked at it, the steam from the food curling up in delicate tendrils. Slowly, you lifted your head, your eyes meeting Yun Jae’s. He stood there, his expression unreadable, though there was a flicker of worry in his usually sharp features. In his other hand, he held a second plate—his own, you assumed. 

“Eat,” he said simply, his tone firm but not unkind. 

“I’m not hungry,” you shot back, your voice colder than you intended. You turned your attention back to your work, determined to ignore him. 

But then, as if on cue, your stomach betrayed you with a loud, unmistakable growl. 

You froze, heat creeping up your neck. 

When you glanced back at him, he was smirking faintly, the corner of his mouth tugged up in amusement. Without a word, he sat down beside you, placing his own plate on the desk and beginning to eat, his movements unhurried. 

“Eat,” he repeated, pushing your plate closer to you. 

You scowled, reluctant but too hungry to argue with your body. Picking up a fork, you took a small bite, chewing slowly as you tried to focus back on your work. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked after a moment, your tone flat as you glanced at him. 

“I want to talk,” he replied, his focus seemingly on his food. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, taking another small bite, though your eyes never left the screen in front of you. 

He didn’t respond immediately, and for a while, the only sound between you was the scrape of utensils against plates. But you could feel his gaze on you, studying you like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. 

“Why are you avoiding me?” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less direct. 

You didn’t answer, refusing to look at him. 

“Why do you keep acting like this?” he pressed, his tone teetering between frustration and concern. 

“I’m not acting like anything,” you snapped, dropping your fork onto the plate with a clatter. “I’m working, Yun Jae. If you’re done eating, you can leave.” 

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. For a moment, you thought he might argue, but instead, he reached out and pushed his plate closer to yours, his movements slow and deliberate. 

“Eat,” he said again, his voice quieter now, almost gentle, as if he knew how close you were to snapping but didn’t want to push you further. 

Then, without another word, he stood and left the lab, the door hissing shut behind him. The sound lingered in the air, leaving an emptiness you couldn’t shake. 

You stared at the two plates of food in front of you, your appetite wavering despite the persistent gnawing in your stomach. His plate sat there, untouched except for the few bites he’d taken, a silent gesture that felt heavier than it should have. 

For a moment, you felt the weight of it all press down on me—the loneliness, the tension between you, the secret you were carrying that was slowly changing everything. My fingers tightened around the fork as you fought back the emotion rising in your chest. 

The food blurred in front of you, and you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe. you hated this—hated how he always seemed to know when to show up, hated the way he lingered in your thoughts even when you wanted to forget him. Most of all, you hated the way his quiet actions, like leaving his plate behind, managed to make you feel so unsteady. 

Finally, you forced yourself to take another bite, chewing slowly as you tried to focus on the work in front of you. But no matter how much you tried to ignore it, the two plates beside each other felt like a conversation left unfinished, one that you weren't sure you were ready to have. 

The kitchen was dimly lit, the soft hum of the ship's systems the only sound in the background. you shuffled quietly, rubbing your eyes and trying not to make too much noise. Hunger clawed at you, relentless and impossible to ignore. Sleep wasn’t going to come until you satisfied it. 

After searching through the shelves, you finally found something that looked promising—a container of fruit, sealed tightly with a stubborn lid. you gripped it with both hands, bracing it against your body as you twisted, but it wouldn’t budge. Frustration built with each attempt, the hunger making your movements clumsier. 

Unbeknownst to you, Yun Jae had been there the whole time, leaning casually against the counter with his hands in his pockets. He watched silently as you struggled, his cold, observant gaze fixed on you. 

“Do you want some help?” his voice cut through the silence suddenly, calm and steady as always. 

The sound startled you so badly that the container slipped from your hands, hitting the floor with a loud clatter. Your heart jumped, and you spun around to glare at him. 

“God, Yun Jae!” you hissed, clutching your chest as if that could steady your racing heart. 

He didn’t flinch, didn’t apologize for startling you. He just stood there, his expression unreadable as his eyes shifted briefly to the container on the floor. 

You stayed quiet, refusing to look at him directly. Instead, you bent down, picking up the container with shaky hands. Your face burned with embarrassment, but you ignored it, turning your back to him and trying once again to open the lid. 

It was no use. No matter how hard you tried, the lid wouldn’t move. And then, without realizing it, you felt the tears start to fall. 

At first, you didn’t notice them, too focused on your stubborn attempts to twist the lid. But soon, the drops blurred your vision, slipping down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. Your hands trembled as you tried to compose yourself, but the harder you fought, the more the tears came. 

It wasn’t the lid. It wasn’t even the hunger. It was everything. The pregnancy, the isolation, the weight of being stranded on this alien planet. The fact that you were carrying this alone, with no one to lean on. 

Before you could spiral further, you felt strong arms wrap around you from behind, firm yet gentle. 

You froze, your breath hitching as Yun Jae carefully took the container from your hands and placed it on the counter nearby. Then, without a word, he pulled you closer, his arms circling you in a quiet but steady embrace. 

The warmth of his presence broke something in you. you let out a shuddering sob, your body trembling as the floodgates opened completely. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and calm as his hand came up to gently rub your arm. “Let it out.” 

His tone wasn’t soft or warm—he wasn’t the type—but there was something in his voice, a quiet steadiness, that made you feel like you didn’t have to hold everything together for once. 

He turned you around slowly, guiding you until your forehead was pressed against his chest. His hand slid to the small of your back, holding you close, while his other hand rested lightly on the back of your head, his fingers brushing through your hair. 

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his words deliberate, almost hesitant. 

You didn’t respond, couldn’t. you just stayed there, your face buried in his chest as the tears came harder. 

He held you through it all, his hand moving gently along your back in a soothing rhythm. “Calm down,” he said quietly. “You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

Minutes passed like this—his steady presence anchoring you as you slowly began to calm down. The tears slowed, your breathing evened out. you realized, almost absently, that your arms had wrapped around his torso, holding onto him without even thinking about it. 

When you finally pulled away, he let you go, though his hands lingered for a moment as if making sure you were steady. His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw something different in them—something softer, more vulnerable. 

“You’ve been holding this in for too long,” he said, his tone still calm but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. 

You wiped at your face, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t need your pity,” you muttered under your breath. 

“Gosh, Y/N, this isn’t pity,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “Why do you always have to be in denial?” 

Silence stretched between you before he broke it. 

“For twenty years, I’ve kept my distance,” he began, his voice quieter now. “Your father—he was the closest thing I had to a hero. He taught me everything, and when you joined the organization, I told myself I had to protect you. For him.” 

You glanced up at him, startled by the admission. He looked away briefly, as if uncomfortable with saying it aloud. 

“But I didn’t know how,” he continued, his voice steady again. “You were reckless, stubborn—always throwing yourself into danger without thinking.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off. 

“And I—” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t know how to handle it. Or you. You weren’t just some kid anymore. Not to me.” 

My breath caught, but you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“You were twenty when I started noticing,” he said, his tone cool but deliberate. “But you were too young, and I couldn’t—” He shook his head. “I couldn’t let myself feel that way. So I kept my distance. I thought it was better that way.” 

Confused by his words, you frowned. “Wait, I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?” 

He hesitated for a moment, looking away as if gathering his courage. When his eyes finally met yours again, they were filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I have feelings for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but steady. 

You froze, completely shocked by the confession. He continued, his words tumbling out as if they’d been bottled up for too long. “I started falling for you when you joined the organization. At first, it felt wrong—I thought I shouldn’t feel that way. So I tried to keep my distance, to be cold with you. You’re my mentor’s daughter, and you’re so much younger than me. I mean—I'm ancient, as you call me.” He chuckled softly, and despite yourself, you found the corners of your mouth twitching upward. 

“And it’s true,” he added, his tone gentler now. “At times, I thought of you like a kid. I felt like I owed your father everything, and protecting you was my way of honoring him.” 

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before he continued. “But you’re not a kid anymore.” His gaze held mine, steady and unflinching. “You’re a woman. And now…” His eyes flickered briefly to your stomach, his expression softening. “Now, you’re carrying a life.” 

Before you could respond, he turned, grabbed the container from the counter, and opened it effortlessly. He handed it back to you without a word, his expression unreadable. 

You took it, your back turning to him as you started eating quietly, savoring the fruit. But then, you felt his arms wrap around you again, this time from behind. 

His hand moved to rest gently on your belly, his fingers brushing against the curve. “It’s gotten big,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “How the hell have you been hiding this?” 

You laughed softly despite myself, shaking your head. “Baggy clothes.” 

His hand moved in slow, soothing circles, and for the first time, you let yourself relax into his touch. You stayed like that for a while, the silence between you, comfortable and unspoken. Once you were done eating, and since neither of you could sleep, you wandered to the balcony. 

You sat there until sunrise, talking about everything—the baby, potential names, your relationship.  

For the first time, you didn’t feel like he was treating you like a kid. 

[formulafanfics13]

Hi Evie sending love again!

Can you write something about reader and the driver(I'm thinking MV1 or CL16 or anyone you like) being childhood bsfs and fuck buddies. But reader decides to end this cuz she got commitment issues and just doesn't want to be so desperate in love. She finds out she's pregnant then she moves and blocks the driver.

Anyways when they run into each other again reader's engaged to a rich guy who loves her and her child. Also the driver's in a serious relationship. Reader's basically telling him to pretend all this didn't happen and carry on with his life. But the driver just can't do it.

This seems like a lot if you're not comfortable you can just ignore it! Thx babe! Have a great day!

And i'm so excited about today's Secret Girlfriend update!

almost never counts - MV1

masterlist

Summary: You and Max Verstappen were childhood friends turned secret lovers, bound by one rule — don’t fall. But you did. When you found out you were pregnant, you disappeared, choosing a new life with a man who accepted your daughter as his own. Years later, Max sees you again in Monaco. The truth unravels in a hallway confrontation — the daughter, the heartbreak, the love that never stopped. But by the time he begs for honesty, it’s already too late. You’ve moved on. Or at least, you’re trying to.

Warnings: Heavy emotional angst, pregnancy reveal, child concealment, themes of abandonment, unresolved romantic tension, emotional cheating, past secret relationship, heartbreak, confrontation, crying, bittersweet ending, themes of lost love and regret.

It started when you were seventeen. Friends first. Always. You and Max. Childhood chaos. Karts and scraped knees and inside jokes in broken Dutch-English hybrids. He was your constant. Your competition. Your comfort.

But somewhere between late nights and lost races, friendship turned touch. One kiss. One fuck. One rule: don’t fall.

You did anyway.

The sex was perfect. Quiet. Familiar. Dangerous. You knew each other too well. You touched like it was muscle memory. He whispered your name like it was sacred. But neither of you ever said it, not the thing that mattered.

Not I love you.

You couldn’t. You knew what it meant. If you said it, everything would break. So you kept fucking him. And kept pretending it wasn’t ruining you.

You left the night you found out you were pregnant. Didn’t ask. Didn’t tell. You couldn’t bear to see the look on his face if he didn’t want it. And worse, if he did.

So you disappeared. New number. New city. New man.

You met Matteo at a charity gala. Tall, kind, disgustingly wealthy. You told him the truth eventually, about the baby. About your past. About Max.

And Matteo said: “I love her already.”

So you stayed. Your daughter is three years old when you see Max again. It’s Monaco. Of course it is. Some goddamn sponsor event. You were supposed to be in and out, a quick appearance, a pretty dress, a few forced smiles before flying home.

You didn’t expect him to walk in. But he does. Black suit. No tie. Expression unreadable. You freeze.

And Max? Max fucking stops breathing.

You meet outside. Back hallway. Emergency exit. The door slams shut behind you and for a second, neither of you speak.

Then, “You blocked me.” His voice is hoarse.

You swallow. “I had to.”

“You fucking blocked me.”

“I didn’t know how to-”

“You could’ve told me.”

You shake your head. “And what would you have done, Max?”

“I don’t know!” he explodes. “I would’ve-tried.”

Silence. 

Then softly: “She’s mine, isn’t she?”

Your stomach drops. You look away.

“Please,” he whispers. “Just tell me.”

You nod once. Barely.

He sinks back against the wall. Staring at nothing. “Does he know?”

“Yes.”

“And he stayed?”

“He loves her.”

“She’s mine.”

“She’s herself,” you snap. “She’s not a possession. She’s not a PR decision. She’s not leverage. She’s a child. And she’s safe. And she’s loved.”

“And I’m not allowed to know her?” His voice cracks.

You close your eyes. “It’s better this way.”

“Better for who?”

“For everyone. For her. For me. For you.”

“I never got a choice.”

“No,” you say, shaking. “Because you were everything, Max. You were all I ever wanted. And that terrified me.”

He steps closer. You step back. “I have someone now. Someone who chose me knowing the truth. Who held her when she cried and didn’t flinch. Who didn’t need a DNA test to love her.”

Max’s jaw flexes.

“I’m not asking you to understand,” you whisper. “I’m asking you to let it go.”

“Do you love him?”

Silence.

“I said-”

“I need to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You blink hard. “Yes, it is.”

He finds you in the parking lot ten minutes later. Your hands are shaking. Your engagement ring glints under the streetlights. Max looks ruined. “You told me once,” he says quietly, “that you didn’t believe in soulmates.”

You say nothing. “I think you just didn’t want to believe in me.”

You look at him.

 He steps forward. One hand to your cheek. “You could lie to everyone. But not me.”

“Max-”

“You love me.”

Tears spill down your face. “I loved you when you were mine,” you say. “But I can’t love you now.”

“You do.”

You shake your head. He drops his hand. Nods once. Then turns away. And walks back into the building like nothing happened.

[gothicpaperback]

THE WAY HE CARES | EIGHT

<<<PART SEVEN| MASTERLIST | PART NINE >>>

wc: 3,7k | rating: 18+ for eventual smut | Joel Miller x You | Enemy Pregnancy

summary: Joel Miller has been my pain-in-the-ass neighbour for years. we argue more than we speak and when we do speak, it's usually through gritted teeth. but when my doctor tells me my fertility’s running out of time, panic sets in. I want a baby and I don’t have the luxury of waiting around for Mr. Right. Joel's a damn good father to his daughter, Sarah. that much, I can’t deny. so one night, fuelled by nerves and just the right amount of wine, I ask him the unthinkable: get me pregnant. no strings.no romance. just biology. i never planned on falling for him. but nothing about Joel Miller ever goes according to plan.

while the story is first person narrative, the OC female character is YOU. she is not named and barely physically described aside from being able bodied and having hair long enough to grab.

tags/warnings: neighbours, enemies to lovers, comedy, smut, sexual tension, mentions of fertility and reproductive issues, mentions of drugs and alcohol. i will add more tags as they become relevant.

chapter smut warnings: oral (F receiving), mentions of penetration, sexual fantasy, dirty talk.

taglist: @himboelover | @harrypotteranna23-blog | @isabella-rose-trastamara | @ro4nix | @sunndroppp | @harriedandharassed | @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 | @titlee78 | @olafsmiles2020 | @sophiagladiator | @sunnytuliptime | @6kaja9 | @magicxmiller | @redvelvettsunflower | @adoringanakin

THE WAY HE CARES | EIGHT

The cul-de-sac feels different now, quiet and still like someone pressed pause on the little rhythms that made the neighbourhood feel alive. Not in the literal sense, kids still shriek in backyards, sprinklers whir lazily over patchy grass, someone down the street insists on starting a band.

But under it all, there’s this hum of something missing. Something that used to be alive between two houses across from each other. Now, it’s just static.

Joel’s house is directly across from mine, and yet somehow it’s become the farthest place in the world. We’ve turned avoiding each other into a sport.

I hear his front door open sometimes and I freeze, ears straining, fingers paused on the keys or the dish or whatever I was doing. If I’m lucky, I catch his reflection in the window, just a flash of his profile, the slope of his shoulders, a glimpse of his boots as he takes the porch steps two at a time. I wait until he’s out of sight before moving again.He does the same. I know he does.

Once, I stepped outside for a morning walk just as he was walking down his own front path. He saw me, his eyes flicked up, our gazes caught for a split second and then he veered. Just turned right back around, pretended like he forgot something, and disappeared back into his house.

I stood there on the porch like an idiot, holding my water bottle, my heart thudding so loud I thought the neighbours might hear.

And then there’s Sarah, my sweet little buddy sending me sporadic Instagram messages.

You should update your socials more often and not with pictures of animals or food 🙄🙄 I just bought the cutest dress 💃🏾 I can’t wait to show you My mom wants to get dinner with you when we get back 🍽️

She sends me pictures from all over Europe. In Italy she stands by the leaning tower of Pisa smiling with her Mom. 

Hope my dad is eating more than 🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕

She doesn’t know what happened between us. We’ve kept it quiet, like some awful secret contract.

I pretend I don’t want to know if Joel is eating right or if he’s sleeping well. I don't care if he still plays guitar in the garage when he thinks no one can hear or that I've started listening for it. But I do notice the way his lawn’s starting to look uneven around the edges. How his porch light stays off now, even when it’s dark. How he hasn’t washed his truck in weeks. 

I know that he misses Sarah. I know his daughter is his bright spot and that being a father is more to him then it is others.

I admit I'm relieved when I see his brother Tommy coming to visit. I recognize him from the photos on Joel's walls. On those nights the porch light is on, the house warm with amber glows from the windows. 

But I still don’t speak to him. Not after what he said. Not after what I said. So we do this cold, petty dance like we’re strangers who once knew each other too well and in the quiet, when my phone is the only thing lighting up the room, I let myself drift toward something easier. Something safer.

Ben. Ben from work has always been kind of flirty in that harmless way. Compliments in passing. Long glances in meetings. The occasional emoji. Nothing serious. Nothing worth mentioning.Until now.

Now I’m checking my phone before bed just to see if his name lights up the screen. I start looking forward to his texts, especially as they start to become more flirtatious. 

Pretty sure you ruined productivity today. Those legs should come with a warning label.

I giggle to myself, flushing delightedly. Who doesn't like to be pursued by a handsome man?

I send back a short reply, my thumb nail wedged between my front teeth as I wait his response. 

Oh yeah? You watching me that closely?

He doesn’t take long.

Hard not to. 😉

I don’t reply. Not yet. I toss my phone to the other side of the couch and tell myself I’m not interested. That it’s just a distraction. That I’m above this.

And when I lay flat on the couch I tell myself that this is all harmless so I don't have to stop myself from slipping my hand underneath my panties. I sigh when I begin curling my fingers into my soaked cunt and scrubbing at my clit to thoughts of Ben. 

I can see him now, dress shirt unbuttoned, belt clinking as he pulls himself out of his pants and says he wants to fuck me. He flips up my skirt, mouth at my cunt and he begins to devour me. 

Fucking hell, baby. 

I arch back on the couch, moaning at the imagined dirty talk.  I'm already so close, the image of rough hands on my thighs, holding them open as I keen before a head of dark curls lifts from between my legs.

Oh fuck. It's not Ben. It's Joel. 

Joel with big, lust -filled eyes and that raspy voice that makes everything in me come alive. He's smiling at me, that knowing look that makes me weak. He crawls up my body, clothes disappearing until he's notching himself at my pussy spread wide. It would almost be vulgar if it wasn't so hot. His wide hand holds the thick base of his cock. 

Be good for me tonight and take it. 

I can hear it, that sweet southern drawl of his drips down my spine like molasses as the head of his cock taps my clit. 

Pretty pussy is gonna look so good stretched around my cock, isn't she?

I wish I could have enjoyed the fantasy for longer. I wish I could have watched the imaginary Joel stretch me, whispering more lascivious things. But it's too much, my arousal too strong and I cum hard on my fingers. 

"Fu-fck! Joel!"

My cry is his name, echoing in my living room. I'm rutting against my fingers, one hand clutching the sofa back as my thighs tremble. 

In my post orgasm clarity I suddenly question everything. What the fuck is wrong with me? Fantasizing about a man I despise? I should be fantasizing about a man who actually might want me. 

I pick the phone back up and open the camera. I adjust the lighting near the living room lamp, tug my sweatshirt a little off my shoulder, shift the blanket so just the curve of my thigh shows. My face is flushed from my orgasm, my hair slightly ruffled. I look sexy. 

It’s not a full thirst trap but it’s calculated. Intentional and skirting the line of propriety. 

I stare at the photo for longer than I mean to before I hit send. Ben’s reply comes back quick.

Holy shit. You trying to kill me or what?

I smile and laugh just a little. But it doesn’t reach all the way to my chest. Not really.

Across the street, Joel’s house is dark. No porch light. No flicker from the living room TV. Just the shape of his windows staring blankly back at mine.

Work is a mess today. But the day starts going downhill before I even get to the office.

I’m locking my front door, half balancing my travel mug and bag, when I hear the unmistakable clack of orthopaedic sandals coming up my walk.

“Good morning!”

Mrs. Shellstrop waves with the enthusiasm of someone who’s never been emotionally devastated in her life. Her lipstick is coral, her visor’s bedazzled, and she’s already holding a clipboard.

I smile, because I have to. “Morning.”

She doesn’t even pretend to ease into it. “Just wanted to remind you about your shift tomorrow at the lemonade stand! Ten to two, right? We are so grateful to have you. You’re just such a dependable little thing.”

I’m not sure if I’m being praised or patted on the head, but I nod anyway. “Wouldn’t miss it,” I lie.

“Oh, wonderful!” she beams. “I’ll put out extra sunscreen for you, dear. Tomorrow’s going to be a scorcher!”

Can’t wait.

She scurries off before I can back out, thank God, and I walk to my car gripping the travel mug like it’s a weapon. The whole interaction takes less than two minutes, but it leaves me feeling drained. Like I’ve just agreed to sit in a plastic chair and pretend to be part of a community I no longer belong to.

I don’t want to spend hours making awkward small talk while children drip sticky liquid onto folding tables. I especially don’t want to run into Joel and be forced to pretend nothing’s happened between us while surrounded by sunshine and suburbia. Still, I said I’d do it. And odds are he won’t even show up to this event of forced revelry.

I drive to work feeling like I’ve already lost the day and things don’t get better.

The intern misfiles a stack of reports. The printer jams three times. My manager calls me “feisty” in a tone that makes me want to throw him out a window. 

By mid-afternoon, I’m mainlining bitter coffee and contemplating the life expectancy of the potted fern in the break room just to avoid conversation.

Ben sends a message sometime around three.

Will you send me another selfie if I bring you an iced coffee?

I stare at it for a beat. Then type:

Throw in a brownie and we’ll see. 

It’s dumb. It’s flirtatious. But for a few seconds, it makes me feel visible.  And when I get my iced coffee I make sure to brush my fingers against his, just ever so briefly.

However the rest of the day is a drag and by the time I get home, I’m wrecked. I don’t even bother changing out of my work clothes. I collapse on the couch, open my phone, and scroll until I’m numb. 

I ignore the blinking reminder in my calendar that says **🍋🍋🍋Lemonade Stand - 10AM Tomorrow"🍋🍋🍋*

Who did that with all those fucking emojis? Me? That version of me must’ve been on something.

The house feels too quiet. I tell myself I like it that way. No one asking questions. No one taking up space and no tension to choke on.

I scroll through my phone. Ben has sent another message: a meme and a follow-up that says,

Missed your face today.

I don’t respond. 

Outside, dusk is settling in. The sky's gone lavender at the edges and the streetlights are starting to click on, one by one. I get up to grab a glass of wine and catch movement through the kitchen window. Just a blur at first. Someone stepping down from Joel’s porch.

I edge closer to the window, careful not to be seen. My lights are off, I’m just another shadow in the window. I peer through the blinds, my eyes blowing wide when I make out the figure. 

It’s a woman. A pretty woman. 

She’s laughing at something Joel says, her voice soft and low but sharp enough to carry. She tucks her hair behind her ear in that slow, feminine way that screams kiss me like something out of a Vivien Leigh movie.

Joel steps out behind her, barefoot. That’s what punches me in the gut first, he’s barefoot. Why is he barefoot? 

His body language isn’t exactly flirtatious, but it’s... relaxed. Familiar. He’s leaning against the door frame like it’s his own damn movie set, arms folded, face lit by the warm porch light that hasn’t been on in days.

She's standing a little too close. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that it feels deliberate. Like if she shifted an inch to the left, they’d brush arms. She says something else, and he huffs a quiet laugh, scratching at the back of his neck.

He only does that when he’s nervous.

She hands him something, maybe a phone, or a charger and he takes it from her like her being there isn’t a goddamn betrayal of everything we never said to each other.

I tell myself she could be a friend. A client. Someone from work. People have friends. Joel has friends. But she’s wearing boots with a little heel. Her jeans are tight. Her hair is curled like she planned for someone to see her.

And the way she lingers…that’s not casual.

I duck out of view before she turns around. My heart’s doing something stupid in my chest. Heavy and fluttering and hot behind my ribs.

I step back into the kitchen, wine forgotten. My stomach's tight, my throat dry.

Why do I care? It’s not like he’s mine. He never was. I don't even want him. 

Still, I find myself pacing the living room, arms crossed, chewing the inside of my cheek like it owes me answers. I keep picturing her smile, the way Joel leaned just a little to the side like he didn’t mind her being there. Like he liked it.

God, I feel pathetic.

So I do what any woman with misplaced pride and poor impulse control does. I text Ben.

What are you doing this fine evening?

The three dots appear immediately.

Just sitting around, watching the game and waiting on a selfie I was promised…

I let the corner of my mouth twitch. I grab the throw blanket off the couch, head upstairs. In my bedroom, I flip on the vanity light and look at myself in the mirror.Makeup smudged. Eyes tired. Hair a mess. But under it all I still look like me. Still look like a woman someone might want.

I adjust the neckline of my tank top and snap a photo from a good angle. Just collarbone, lips, and a little skin. nothing overt, but intimate.

Ben’s reply comes fast.

Goddamn. You’re unreal. Tell me what you’re wearing under that.

I make up a lie about slutty lingerie. That's what men like. He doesn't need to know its  ragged Superman hipsters that I've had since I was in college. 

He sends back a few saucy images himself, ones that have me tingling and we toss back a few spicy texts to one another. But I can't quite make myself get there. Eventually I toss my phone onto the bed and turn off the vanity light.

Across the street, Joel’s house is dark again but in my chest, everything’s still burning.

I arrive at the end of the cul-de-sac ten minutes early, sunscreen already stinging my eyes and my folded chair digging into my thigh. 

The booth is easy to spot—red-and-white stripes on the canopy, a big hand-painted sign that says LEMONADE! \$1! ICE COLD!, and two plastic coolers sweating in the heat.

It’s going to be a long day but it’s fine. It’s for the neighbourhood. For the children. For the good of the suburban species.

Then I see him. Joel.

He’s already at the booth, his back to me, loading bottles of water into a small cooler with the kind of nonchalance that makes my pulse spike. His stupid broad shoulders are straining his T-shirt and he’s wearing sunglasses even though it’s barely past nine a.m. 

What the fuck is he doing here???

When he turns slightly, I catch a glimpse of his profile, the frown lines, unshaven jaw, lips pressed into a line like he’s annoyed to even be outside.

I stop mid-step, the chair banging against my shin as I process the visual. No one told me he’d be here helping me at the booth. I consider turning around. Just pivot, walk back to my place, claim I was struck down by an unexpected flu, or maybe attacked by bees. Something noble and dramatic.

But then Joel looks up and spots me and it's too late.There’s a brief flicker of interest on his face. Then it’s gone, replaced with that unreadable expression he’s perfected since our slow slide into frosty indifference. 

I square my shoulders and walk the rest of the way to the booth. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t wave. Just gives a small nod, like I’m a coworker he forgot existed until now.

“Hey,” I say, setting down the chair and trying not to sound like I’ve swallowed an entire bag of nerves.

“Hey.” His voice is neutral. Maybe a little raspy.

We stand there for a beat, the air sticky and thick with heat and unsaid things. Then, mercifully, he nods toward the setup. “I’ve got most of it done. Coolers are full. We’ve got two pitchers, one sweetened, one not. Shellstrop left a cash box.”

“Oh. Great.” I force a smile. “Efficient, as always.”

He doesn’t answer. Just shifts his weight and picks up a stack of plastic cups.

For the first two hours, we move around each other like strangers in a shared kitchen. I stack napkins. He slices lemons. We speak only when necessary.

“Pass me the tongs?”

“Where should I put the extra lids?”

Wanna cut up more lemons?

It’s painfully cordial.

The first wave of customers are sticky-fingered and barefoot kids dragging bikes and siblings, clutching dollar bills like they’ve been handed pure gold. I’m the one who greets them with smiles and fake cheer, while Joel silently pours lemonade behind me. It’s not a great system, but it works. Sort of.

At one point, a kid sneezes into the open pitcher and I make a strangled sound in the back of my throat. Joel mutters, “New batch,” and dumps it without hesitation.

We go through five gallons by noon.

By then, the heat is unbearable. My shirt is clinging to my back, my scalp is starting to burn despite my sad little visor, and Joel has removed his sunglasses to reveal squinting eyes and a brow that looks perpetually annoyed. But he doesn’t leave. He doesn’t even complain and we settle into a weird, quiet rhythm.

At one point, I notice his hand brushing a rogue ant off the table. Just casually. Another time, he catches a runaway dollar bill and smooths it into the cash box with surprising care. I don’t want to notice these things. But I do.

A few customers later, I bump into him by accident. Elbow to elbow as we both reach for the tongs. Not dramatic. Just a small, clumsy touch.

“Sorry,” I murmur.

“S’fine,” he says.

He doesn’t move away. The tension softens somewhere between refills and sticky counter wipes.

"You must be missing Sarah like crazy." 

"Yeah, I am." His smile is soft. "She keeps callin' to check up on me."

"Next time she calls can you tell her I'm buying water balloons?"

Joel throws me a confused look. 

"Inside joke."

We go quiet again. But it’s a warmer silence now, easier.

Later, a man spills half a cup on our table and tries to pretend it didn’t happen. Joel calmly hands me a towel without saying a word. When we’re finally down to the last few pitchers, a breeze whistles through the crowd as we stand waiting for customers

"You still mad at me?”

It knocks the wind out of me. The way he asks it, all soft and nervous. I turn to look at him over my shoulder. He’s wearing that wounded look he gets, like a hurt basset hound. I hate that it makes me soften.

 “What?”

He leans against the table, arms crossed, eyes on the kids running through sprinklers in the distance. “I figured you might be."

I don’t say anything for a long moment. I have every opportunity to lay into him and to double down on his shitty behaviour. But the thing is… it was me who fucked up first. I said shitty stuff, I got mad at him for something that we never said was off the table.

“Actually, I thought you might be mad at me.  And I don’t really blame you if you are.”

His eyes drift to mine. "Really?"

“I didn’t mean the things I said,” I say, feeling shy. "I just felt…. Weird and hurt."

The silence is different now. Not heavy. Not hostile. Just raw.

“I just… I was upset,” I go on. "When you mentioned your date all I could think was that my chance of getting pregnant was over. That I'd have to find someone new or just give up altogether."

Joel’s jaw tightens. "I didn't say I'd stop helpin" you. Just that I was busy that night."

I glance at him. He meets my eyes.

"I know. I'm sorry, Joel." 

"S'alright." 

Another silence. But this one isn’t awkward. It’s contemplative. There’s space in it.

“I’m sorry too,” he adds, coming to step a little closer to me. “I said shit I didn’t mean too.”

“I know.”

The last kid comes up for a final cup of lemonade, sticky quarters clutched in one hand and Joel serves him without comment. By the time we start to clean up everything smells like grass, smoke, and melted sugar.

I wipe my hands on my shorts and look around. “You good?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “You?”

“Yeah.”

We’re quiet again. But this time, it’s mutual. Like we’ve finally put down the weapons and decided we’re tired of the war.

We finish cleaning just as the sun starts dipping low over the rooftops. The booth is stripped bare; the cooler lids shut tight, the last sticky dollar bills tucked into the cash box. Joel wipes his hands on a napkin and tosses it into the trash bag I’m holding.

“That should do it.”

“Yeah.” I nod, brushing a piece of lemon pulp off my wrist. “Good team effort.”

He glances at me, and for a second it looks like he might say something more. But then he just gives a small nod and turns toward his place.  I try not to be disappointed. Not everything has to end with some grand gesture. Sometimes a quiet nudge is enough.

I’m just locking up the cash box when Mrs. Shellstrop materializes beside me like a caffeinated apparition, arms full of donation envelopes and her ever-present clipboard.

“Darling! Thank you again you were wonderful today. You and Joel worked very well together and I have you to thank for it!”

I raise an eyebrow. “Me? Why?”

She waves a hand, chuckling. “Oh, you know he's not one to help volunteer for these sorts of things. But he was quite insistent about being paired with you. He said he wanted someone who wouldn’t make him do all the work.”

She laughs, not realizing the way her words land. Like a pebble tossed into a very still pond.

“Oh?” I ask carefully.

“Mm-hmm.” She checks something off her clipboard. “I tried to give him a more behind the scenes gig. Just building some of the booths. He did that of course, the sweet man that he is. But then he saw my list and told me  ‘Put me with her, she’s competent.’ Honestly, it was a relief. You wouldn’t believe how many people I had to beg just to run the ring toss.”

I smile, but it’s slow. There’s a faint thrum in my chest now, quiet and persistent. She’s already moved on to greeting the Thompsons when I glance back across the street.

Joel is tossing a trash bag into one of the bins. He straightens up and looks over, just a glance, automatic, like he's checking the flow of foot traffic. But our eyes meet.

Neither of us waves. But we don’t look away, either. And suddenly, I can’t stop replaying it: Put me with her. She’s competent. He asked to be paired with me.

It’s not a clean slate. Not yet. But it’s something. And for now, something is enough.

I didn't want them fighting for too long and reading how you are feeling about this story and my other ones is making this so fun. i admit i was scared to show my writing off but all of you have been so supportive.

xx

💋💋💋💋

[kewpiekitty]

where have you gone?

a/n !: i'm excited to finally finish this omg !! i was inspired by this scenario from @doodlewritesfics and i have been wanting to write this since i read it ahhh !! this is post-realization mateo btw !! also we're gonna pretend he can still see objects even after he's been realized and the inanimals are being watched by betty ! i hope y'all enjoy this !! also maybe i'll make a part two with pregnant!reader !!

content warning !: fem!reader, insecure!reader, reader kind of has abandonment issues, angst, comfort, crying, starts gentle then turns into rough sex, creampie, begging, and implications of pregnancy !!

synopsis !: the next morning you wake up to find mateo gone, nothing giving you a clue as to where he could've gone or when he'll be back. when you finally see him again you don't know if you can forgive him.

You were laid next to Mateo on the couch, it was a funny feeling, being able to really feel him next to you now. His warm hand brushing against your arm with each pet he gave to the dogs. They were sprawled out all over the couch and floor. It was like a dream come true, he was really here, and so were the inanimals.

The sounds of their breathing and occasional sighs had you drifting off to sleep. Before you are able to fully fall asleep, you hear Mateo whisper.

"You are my family, forever." 

His words were all you needed to hear before you fell asleep, head on his shoulder. Dreaming about helping Mateo and the inanimals find other missing critters and giving them a home. 

You wake up with a smile on your face, excited to spend the day with your now real boyfriend. Only now, there is no sign of him anywhere. You look around the house, trying to find clues of him or the inanimals everywhere. Yet there are none. 

Thinking that maybe you could've dreamt about realizing him, you put the dateviators back on. You look around the house once again but there is still no sign of him. Fear washes over you as you think about what could have possibly happened to Mateo. The objects all tell you the same thing, that they haven't seen him either. With no other ideas left, you break down crying. Discouraged and tired, you fall asleep on the couch where you and Mateo had been the day before. 

It has been a week since you've last seen him. You were drained and exhausted but you decided to turn on the tv. When you do a commercial for the WFYB pops up, and there stands Mateo and the inanimals. Your heart felt like it stopped and your breathing slowed, you watched in silence until he disappeared from the screen. Finally seeing your chance to find him you grab your keys and bolt out of the house, heading straight for the building. 

When you arrive there is no sight of him, but you talked to the person at the desk. No useful information came from them, except for a dismissive "They always come back!". All you could do was ask for whatever updates you could get, giving them your number so they could notify you as soon as Mateo returned. 

As you leave the building you think back to the commercial. The voice on the tv saying "They have never left a subject behind".

Except for you. They left you behind. 

All week you had laid in bed, unable to bring yourself to do anything without knowing Mateo was okay. The stress made it hard for you to get out of bed, and it was getting noticeable that you weren't moving around the house recently. A gruff voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

"You should really take a shower you know?" It was Doug. Of course he'd be here right now. 

"Doug please go away, I'm seriously not in the mood." He scoffs at you. "Yeah, that's why I'm here right now, dork." He grabs your arm and pulls you up out of the bed. "Listen, it's bumming everyone out cause you're just laying in bed. We know you miss Mateo but you need to get a grip." 

You want to get angry at his words but you can't muster up enough strength. You were tired, you had been abandoned and you were just expected to be okay with it?

"What do—what do I do Doug?" Your body gives out and falls over onto his. "What do I do now?" He wraps an arm around you and rubs your back somewhat soothingly. "How about you take a bath, relax for a bit and then you can go ask if there are any updates on your little boytoy okay?" 

You nod against his shoulder, gathering the strength to get up and run the bath water. A cool hand places itself upon your shoulder. You turn around to see Bathsheba, the dark frown on her face making you nervous. 

"I just cannot believe that he had the nerve to just dip like that! You realize him and then he just goes off into the world? No call, no text, no note, no "goodbye honey i'm off to become a member of a search group!"

You roll your eyes at her words despite them being true. She sits on the counter top and carries on talking as you bathe yourself, thankful for her chattiness since the last thing you want to do right now is talk. When you finish your bath she helps you get dry and brushes your hair, all while continuing to gossip. 

Bathsheba sends you off into your room to get dressed, hoping that maybe today will be better for you. As you finish dressing a high pitched ping echoes through the room. Your heart begins to race—could that be an update? 

You jump onto your bed, grabbing your phone in both hands. Your eyes are closed as you hold it up, one slowly opening to see who could've texted you. 

It was the WFYB. . .Mateo is back. 

You rush to the building again, hoping—no praying, that he'll be here this time. Your heart is racing so fast that you can hear your own heartbeat. There's a heavy feeling in your stomach, the uncertainty being able to see him again weighing in the hair. 

When you open the doors you see him. His chubby and tall figure standing there talking to one of his associates. You feel sick, a mixture of emotions creeps up. Anger at Mateo for not saying anything, happiness that he's alive and well, and sadness that he just left you. 

He turns around at the sound of the door chiming, a big smile plastered on his face when he sees you. 

"Mi vida! We've missed you so—" You interrupt him, asking to talk to him in private. When he takes you to a room off to the side you break down. Allowing every single emotion you've been feeling to come out all at once. Sobs rack through your body as he wraps his arms around your frame, but you push him away, pain now the only thing on your mind. 

"How could you leave me like that? You said I was your family, but you didn't even tell me you were leaving!" 

A deep frown forms on his face, guilt flows through his body. "I'm so sorry mi vida, I know I should have said something before but—" 

"No! You don't get to do that. I was worried day and night about you, I had no clue if you were dead or alive." You use your hand to wipe the tears from your eyes. "There was nothing that told me where you were. Do you know how scary that is?" 

He stands there looking like a child who's getting yelled at by his mother. He doesn't interrupt, letting you say what you need to. Although he's a little hurt that you rejected his touch he understands. However, his understanding goes out the window when you say that you don't think you can continue to be with him. 

"Mi amorcita please. I know I've messed up but please don't say that, you know you're my family. You're everything I need." 

You scoff, anger taking over everything in your body. 

"Do I know that? Mateo, I'm not mad that you wanted to do this." You hold his hands in yours. "I'm just mad you left without any warning. What if you did that and something happened? I wouldn't be able to live with myself." 

Tears well up in his big brown eyes, his lower lip jutting out and trembling. Your heart aches at his face. Your words have him looking like a kicked puppy. Yet his actions had you hurting like one. 

"I'm sorry Mateo, but I don't think I can—" 

He interrupts you with a bear hug, his grip so tight it could've stopped your breathing. You could feel warm tears wetting your shirt, along with small hiccups coming from his trembling body. 

"hic—ple...please mi vida. i can't live without you, i n...need you in my life—please." His cries were desperate and pleading. It was obvious he was trying to convince you to rethink your choice, and it was working. He didn't know how much it hurt you to say those things. 

'But if I was so important, then why didn't he tell me he was leaving?' 

He lowers himself onto his knees, his arms now wrapped around your legs. His face is stained with tears as he looks up at you. "bebecita—hic—por favor, forgive me. i haven't been the man you deserve, please...let me make it up to you." 

You pause, not knowing what to do. You can't help but feel so bad for your sweet boy. His lips forming a cute pout while he cries. Your hands find their way to both sides of his face, using your thumbs to wipe away his tears. 

"C'mon, let's go home okay? We can talk more about this there." You pull him up to his feet, taking hold of his hand. You, Mateo, and the inanimals make the way back to the house. The silence on the way there was killing him, while the inanimals were wagging their tails at the sight of their home. 

You enter the house, silence still filling the gaps between the two of you. 

"I'm going to head upstairs, okay? just make yourself comfortable and if you need something just ask." 

His strong grip stops you in your tracks. You can't bring yourself to look back at him, if you do you won't be able to stop falling apart. 

"bebecita...please look at me." you don't say anything, you don't dare to move either. "[name] please look at me!" you turn to look at him, his eyes watering once again. "i'm sorry. i don't deserve you and i know that now. you gave me the greatest gift of all—your love. and i took it for granted like a fool." 

He brings your hand up to his face, leaving kisses all the way up your arm. Warm tears dripping with each kiss he places. "I will do anything for your forgiveness, mi vida. Please let me make it up to you. If I can't please you, then I will accept the fact that you're no longer mine." 

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. A soothing hold on the small of your back. Your heart aches at his words. You know he didn't mean to leave you in such a way, so you hate to make him so upset. Though it hurt you so much, you never could've seen him again, and you would have had to live with the fact that he was never coming back.

You didn't reject his touch, and he took this as a sign to continue. His swollen lips kiss from your neck to your ear. Shivers going down your spine due to his hot breath.

His strong arm hooks under your legs, the other holding your back to keep you from falling. He practically flies up the stairs with you in his arms. Never stopping his movements until he reaches your bedroom, the smell of your perfume and clean laundry hits him. He hasn't realized how much he missed your scent until now. 

You're on the bed within seconds, staring up at Mateo between your open legs. His gaze is hungry—both pleading and animalistic at the same time. Like an animal that hasn't eaten in days, begging for food. You can feel the heat between your legs grow at his unmoving gaze. Small kisses are peppered all over your body, but most of them land in between your thighs. Mateo stares at you questioningly, his dark brown eyes filled with love, lust, and adoration. 

"May I touch you mi bebecita?" 

You nod absentmindedly, giving him the courage he needed to continue worshiping your body. The room was dim and quiet, each kiss he placed on your body was like an unspoken apology. His hands roamed around your body, occasionally stopping to pinch and play with your nipples. 

The sounds you made were music to his ears. Looking back at it now, Mateo has no clue why he left the way he did. He had the world right in front of him. You gave him this gift of life, and the first thing he does is abandon you. He feels like such an idiot. 

His cock twitches in his pants at the sight of you, he forgot what it felt like to touch you. To be able to worship your gorgeous body again. There is no rush with his delicate touches, he savors the moment of being with you again. It felt right, like this was how everything was supposed to be. 

Mateo can feel the warm tears roll down his cheeks. Crying at your beautiful body under him. "Mi vida—please," He ruts against your clothed cunt, desperate to feel you around him. "allow me to make you feel good." 

It doesn't take much time for the both of you to peel off your clothes. When you're naked you sit and stare at each other, taking in the vulnerability of each other. While he did leave so suddenly, you know you could never be fully mad at Mateo. 

He's quick to hover over you, his hard cock poking at your entrance. You're nervous though, it had been awhile since the two of you had been able to do anything. This whole month you’ve been alone and you know it'll hurt when he bottoms out. 

Mateo is gentle with your body though, treating you like a princess as he guides himself into you. A hiss of pain falls from your mouth at the feeling of him stretching you out. He plants a small kiss on the top of your head to help. "I know mi vida, I'm sorry for hurting you." 

He doesn't move when he's finally bottomed out, allowing you to adjust to his size once again. He's always been so gentle with you, every word he speaks and every action he does is just so comforting. I guess whether he's human or not he'll always be that way.

You tap his shoulder signaling that it's okay for him to move. His thrusts are soft and sweet, catering to every need your aching hole has. You feel safe under Mateo like this, though it brings back memories that make tears threaten to spill from your eyes. 

His pace gets quicker, his cock slamming into you at a rough and rapid pace. Small sobs break through the noises of skin slapping and groans. It's Mateo. "Bebecita please don't leave me," His thrusts get harder with each word he utters. "I'm so sorry, you're my goddess and I've been such a fool." His hands lift your legs up to your chest, spreading them wide enough to show off your cunt swallowing his dick whole. 

Tears fell down his face for the fifth time today. His hands roam your body as he ruts into you with an animalistic face. Loud squishing and squelching sounds filling up the room. "Princessa, I know I messed up but please," He pulls himself out of you, and you whine at the emptiness between your legs. "tell me that you need me. Tell me that you'll always be mine. I need you to promise me you won't leave me please, and I won't leave you ever again." 

He rams back inside of you and steadies himself before he pulls out once more. Your hole clenches around him at his words, the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and Mateo can tell. He angles his hips upward hitting your most precious spot. The friction makes it hard for you to even keep your eyes open now. 

He grabs your chin with his hand and makes you look up at him. "Amorcita, tell me that it'll always be just us. I need to hear you say it. I need to hear you tell me you love me please." His pace gets sloppy and frivolous. Your legs wrap around his waist pushing him deeper inside of you. 

"Mateo, I love you so much. I'll always love you with all of my heart!" He wants to come undone at your words, but Mateo knows better than to do that. He wants his princess to cum first. He needs you to. 

Mateo's hand flies to your clit, circling the little nub until you're attempting to make coherent sentences. The only thing that falls out of your mouth is 'please'. And please he will, his cock slams into your g-spot. He slips out each time due to how wet you are. 

With one final thrust he has you cumming all over his cock, a loud squeal coming from your mouth as he spurts his load inside of your pussy. When you've finally come out from the blissful daze you were in, you kiss his face all over. 

"I love you Mateo. But please don't ever leave me like that again." He kisses your forehead before nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "I promise I won't my love, now, you can be by my side on our adventures. If you would like to be, of course." You nod your head, happy with the agreement you've come to. Ready to drift off into a peaceful slumber before. . .

"Amorcita, have you still been on the pill?" 

You take a moment to think about it, eyes still closed. They pop open at the realization that no, you haven't been. 

"Oh no. . ." 

[fvsm4x]

𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

synopsis. Pregnancy, usually a positive outcome of love between two partners that love each other deeply. But Pregnancy resulting from someone using you for their own pleasure is far from a positive outcome

+ warning/content. bully Gojo Satoru x female reader - reader is pregnant - mentions of abortion - mature themes/MDNI - usual warnings - suguru and reader are siblings - gojo is a fuckboy - angst angst angst:))

+ word count. 4.9k

a/n. Been a while since i‘ve updated this series…

<-previous - series mlist - next->

As your mother and father stormed out of your room, they slammed the door with a force that rattled the walls, leaving you alone with your brother in the suffocating silence that followed. The finality of that door slamming shut felt like an ominous punctuation—a statement that there was no turning back.

You stood frozen, your heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the echo of their footsteps retreating down the hall. A knot tightened in your throat as the weight of their words crashed over you, a tidal wave of shame and dread. You forced yourself to take deep, steady breaths, trying desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. The last thing you wanted was for your brother to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, on the verge of falling apart.

Is that it? you wondered, panic clawing at your insides. Is this really it? Am I actually getting kicked out? The thought left you feeling hollow, like everything you had ever counted on had been stripped away in a single, merciless instant.

Your mind raced, leaping to thoughts of your future—or what little was left of it. Everything you’d worked for, everything you’d dreamed of, felt like it was slipping through your fingers, unraveling faster than you could piece it back together. You could see the edges of your life falling away. Your education, your home, the support you once took for granted. All of it was disappearing, leaving only the stark reality of an uncertain path ahead.

You clenched your hands, digging your nails into your palms to anchor yourself, trying to stave off the wave of despair building inside you. It felt like your world was caving in, each piece of your carefully planned life crumbling in a way that seemed beyond repair.

Your brother shifted beside you, breaking the silence as he cleared his throat, his face etched with worry. He reached out a tentative hand, hovering as if unsure whether to comfort you or respect the fragile space you’d created between yourself and your emotions.

Your brother’s hand finally found your shoulder, his touch gentle but grounding. His silence spoke louder than words, and for a moment, it was all you could rely on. Even though he didn’t know what to say, his presence gave you something solid to hold onto in the midst of the chaos unraveling inside you.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’re just… angry. They’ll come around. Maybe if we just talk to them tomorrow, things will calm down.”

You shook your head, the harsh reality already settling into place. “No, Suguru.. you heard them. They were serious. They want me gone.”

He looked down, his brows knitted together in frustration. “But where will you go? You can’t just… be out there by yourself.” The helplessness in his voice mirrored your own fear, but even he didn’t have a solution.

You glanced around your room—the bed you’d grown up in, the books you’d loved and underlined, the photos on the wall capturing fragments of happier moments, times when things were simpler, manageable. Each item felt like a piece of the life you were about to lose, like a museum of memories that would soon be locked away from you forever.

The silence between you and your brother grew heavy, and as much as you wanted to break it, words failed you. What could you say? That you’d made a mistake? That you hadn’t meant for any of this to happen? (You hadn‘t) But they all sounded hollow, too small to carry the weight of what you were facing.

Finally, your brother spoke, his voice determined. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure something out. You can live at my apartment—until you have a plan, at least. I don‘t really use it, so don‘t worry. I’ll help you. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

His words offered a sliver of hope, but even as you nodded, uncertainty lingered. You knew your brother meant well, but deep down, you both understood how complicated it would be for him to go against your parents’ wishes. They’d raised him with the same expectations, the same rules—and while his heart was with you, his loyalty was torn.

But still, the idea of having somewhere to go, even if only temporarily, softened the blow just enough for you to breathe.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, but your gratitude was genuine. You reached for him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. The hug was the only comfort you had at that moment, the only thing anchoring you against the overwhelming feeling of loss and uncertainty.

After a long silence, he pulled back slightly, his face determined. “Go pack a few things. Whatever you need tonight. We’ll get out of here quietly. I’ll take care of the rest.”

-

Gojo leaned back in his chair, the squeak of the metal legs against the floor barely audible over the low murmur of his classmates. He absentmindedly tapped a pen against his notebook, the rhythmic click-click of it matching the unease simmering in his chest. His gaze drifted out the classroom window, where the afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement. It had been weeks since he’d last seen you, and that last encounter in the classroom felt like it had happened yesterday, every moment still vividly etched in his mind.

He recalled the way the quiet hum of the school’s empty corridors amplified every sound—the soft, breathy gasps you made, the rush of your breathing as he pressed you against the cool surface of the wall. It was intoxicating, each detail replaying in his head like a film on repeat. But oddly enough, it pained him that he hadn’t seen you since then.

At first, he shrugged it off, convincing himself that you were just playing hard-to-get or perhaps needed some space after everything that had happened. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to need time to collect themselves after an encounter with him— he had that effect on people. But as the days turned into weeks, that initial dismissal turned into a dull, nagging worry that gnawed at him.

Gojo tried to push the thoughts aside, telling himself that you’d show up eventually, that it was just a phase. But your absence had created an odd emptiness in his daily routine, a persistent itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He was used to you being there, your presence a strange but comforting constant, and now that comfort was replaced with a gnawing curiosity.

Then there was Suguru, your brother, whose steady presence at school made everything feel even stranger. He carried on with his day as though nothing had changed, greeting Gojo with his usual casual indifference, yet he never mentioned you. Gojo found himself watching Suguru more closely than he intended, searching for any hint or sign that might explain your absence. He could feel the itch of curiosity clawing at him, but part of him resisted asking outright. He didn’t want to seem like he cared too much, but every time he spotted Suguru without you, that curiosity intensified.

Had something happened to you? Did you get sick? Or had you simply decided to avoid him? The thought was uncomfortably unsettling, and he brushed it aside, frustrated with himself for even considering it.

It was frustrating. Gojo couldn’t quite understand why you were occupying so much of his mind. At first, he tried to blame it on Suguru—your brother was a constant reminder of you, after all—but he’d grown accustomed to that long ago. It wasn’t like him to fixate on anyone, especially someone who usually melted into the background. And yet, here he was, replaying that last encounter in his mind, scanning hallways, and lingering just a bit longer outside your classes, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

He could chalk it up to boredom, a simple distraction to stave off the monotony of his day-to-day life. But deep down, he knew that there was something more than that. The thrill of teasing you, the way your face would scrunch up in irritation when he pushed you down in the hallways—it was strangely addictive. You had become his little victim, a source of amusement that made the slow days feel bearable. Now that you were gone, it left a void he couldn’t fill.

He hated admitting it, but he missed picking on you. The thought made his jaw clench, and a twisted grin crept across his face. Maybe he’d overestimated his hold over you, convinced that you would always be there for him to mess with. Or perhaps this was some kind of game you were playing, deliberately making him feel your absence, and it annoyed him even more.

Days continued to pass without a sign of you, and then, one morning, Suguru didn’t show up to school. Gojo was caught off guard by the emptiness in the usual spots where he’d see his friend. Normally, Suguru was as dependable as clockwork, always showing up right on time, effortlessly composed and ready to move through the day. Gojo couldn’t help but feel a strange twist in his stomach, wondering if something had happened. Maybe Suguru’s absence was tied to yours?

When Suguru finally returned the next day, he looked…off. His usually neat hair was slightly disheveled, his clothes a bit rumpled. There was an exhausted heaviness in his steps, and dark shadows under his eyes made him look as though he hadn’t slept all night. Gojo’s eyes followed him as he trudged through the school halls, quieter than usual, avoiding small talk and slipping into his seat without so much as a glance at anyone.

It was unlike Suguru to be this way. He barely looked up during the lunch break, barely mumbled a response when someone tried to talk to him. And Gojo could feel the unspoken weight hanging over him like a shadow—an air of tension, of something strained and unresolved. It made Gojo’s curiosity burn even stronger, a gnawing need to know what had happened.

But when Gojo finally approached him, Suguru only glanced up, his gaze tired and distant, and muttered a soft, “Not today, Satoru.” There was a finality in his tone, a closed-off energy that Gojo hadn’t seen before. It was clear that Suguru was carrying something heavy, something he wasn’t ready—or willing—to share.

And somehow, that only made his thoughts drift back to you. The emptiness left by your absence grew sharper, more pointed, and with it came a sinking feeling that whatever was happening with Suguru…was connected to you.

Gojo scoffed, shaking his head at himself as he tried to push thoughts of you aside. Why was he even letting you get to him? It wasn’t like him to dwell on anyone, let alone someone who’d gone MIA after a single hookup. He had more important things to think about—better distractions to keep himself entertained. Besides, if you were going to play hard-to-get or whatever this was, then that was on you.

With a lazy smirk, he glanced around the classroom, letting his gaze settle on a few familiar faces. Plenty of girls would kill for his attention— he didn’t need to waste any more time thinking about you. He’d spent weeks hoping for some sign of you, but maybe it was time he reminded himself of how easy it was to move on.

After class, he slipped out of the room, his stride slow and confident as he scanned the hallways. Within minutes, he found what he was looking for—an upperclassman lingering by her locker, eyeing him with a coy smile. He’d seen her around before, noticed the way her gaze lingered whenever he passed by.

Perfect.

With a quick sweep of his hair, he put on that easy charm, the one that always drew people in, and walked over, leaning casually against the lockers beside her. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Long day?”

The girl blinked, caught off guard for a second before her lips curled into a smile. “Not anymore,” she replied, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

Gojo grinned, already shifting into the familiar rhythm of flirting that he knew so well. Within moments, they were leaning close, sharing secretive whispers and low laughs, her hand resting on his arm as she hung onto every word he said. He had a way of making them feel special, as if they were the only person in the world. He knew exactly what to say, how to let his gaze linger just long enough to make them squirm.

As he let the conversation drift into something more suggestive, he found himself glancing around, almost instinctively, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of you walking by. He mentally cursed himself for it, forcing himself to focus on the girl in front of him, but there was still that nagging sense of dissatisfaction. Even though he had her wrapped around his finger, it didn’t feel quite the same. She was willing, easy, and there was no thrill, no challenge. It felt…hollow.

For a moment, he wondered if this was just another way to forget you, a way to scratch an itch that wasn’t going away as easily as he’d hoped. The idea bothered him, and he dismissed it as quickly as it came. You didn’t matter—he was Gojo Satoru. He had girls practically throwing themselves at him every day. There was no reason he should be hung up on you.

-

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. Days slipped by in a gray monotony as you tried to settle into a space that felt as foreign as a stranger’s closet. There was nothing in the room that felt like you, just the sparse furniture your brother had left behind: a sagging couch with sunken cushions, a bed pushed awkwardly against the wall, and a handful of mismatched kitchen items. There were no family photos, no cozy blankets, not even a single potted plant to add life to the place. It was a hollow shell, his empty, seldom-used apartment, and now it was yours—a place to hide, but far from a home.

When you first came here, you thought you might be able to reach out, maybe even find comfort in a friend’s familiar voice. But the silence on the other end of the line grew heavier with each unanswered message. Some of your texts were left unread, others were marked “seen” and ignored. You’d started to convince yourself that somehow, they knew. They had to know about your mistake, your situation, and it was easier for them to turn away than to get involved. You could almost imagine their silent judgment, the whispers they might share when you weren’t around.

You felt backed into a corner, as if the world had abandoned you just when you needed it most. The shame felt insurmountable, an invisible wall that stopped you from trying again, that convinced you this loneliness was what you deserved.

You could barely feel it —the life inside you, growing silently, quietly, but undeniably there. Sometimes, you’d catch yourself resting a hand on your stomach without even realizing, feeling for something that wasn’t quite there yet, but knowing soon it would be. A thousand questions swirled in your mind. What kind of life would this child have? Would they hate you for the world you brought them into, for the choices you’d made that they would have to live with? The thought was like a chill running through your veins, paralyzing and real in a way nothing else was.

Then, late at night, as the hours stretched out, other thoughts would creep in—thoughts you tried to push away, but that stubbornly returned. Abortion. You felt the word like a weight in your chest, a tightness that you couldn’t swallow, but that was always there. In the dead silence of the apartment, you sometimes let yourself entertain the thought, if only for a moment, thinking how much easier it might be to turn away from this path. But then the guilt would wash over you, sinking deeper with every beat of your heart. It was a decision you couldn’t bring yourself to make, no matter how overwhelming everything felt.

You weren’t even sure you could hold your own life together, let alone bring another one into it. You hated feeling so trapped, as though every choice led to pain, no matter what you did. The idea of being a mother, of taking on this monumental responsibility, filled you with a dread that was hard to admit. It was as if each new day only added to a burden you were too afraid to carry yet too scared to set down. The future felt murky and shadowed, a looming unknown that swallowed up every glimmer of hope.

Sometimes, you’d find yourself standing by the window, gazing down at the quiet, dimly lit street below, lost in thoughts of an alternate life. What would it feel like to walk away from all this weight, to leave the fear and uncertainty behind? You let yourself imagine it—a life where you were free again, unburdened. But even as the fantasy flickered in your mind, there was a small, stubborn part of you that held on, that whispered maybe. Maybe you could carry this through. Maybe, despite everything, you could find a way to make this work.

To keep yourself grounded, you tried to build a routine. Every morning, you’d scroll through endless job listings, though each one felt like a reminder of the uncertainty surrounding you. Most positions didn’t seem right or possible for you now, but you kept looking. It was something to hold onto, some kind of structure when everything else felt like it was slipping through your fingers. You even organized the sparse kitchen, setting up the cabinets with a kind of precise care, as if putting things in order on the outside could bring some calm to the chaos inside.

One evening, as you sat cross-legged on the couch, the hum of distant traffic barely filled the silence. You stared at your phone screen, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. Loneliness settled over you, thick and heavy, amplified by the silence that had become so familiar. It was almost stifling, forcing you to confront thoughts you’d tried hard to avoid.

You missed your family, even if things between you had become strained. You missed the comforting predictability of home, the familiar sounds, the routine. Here, each day felt hollow and directionless, like floating in a fog with no sense of where you were headed. Sometimes, you’d sit there waiting, hoping for something to change, some sign that things would be okay, but the realization that it was entirely up to you weighed heavily.

A knock at the door jolted you out of your thoughts, sharp and unexpected in the stillness. Your heart gave a nervous jump as you hesitated, then forced yourself to cross the room. The apartment was usually so quiet, every sound amplified in the emptiness, and this interruption felt almost intrusive. Taking a breath to steady yourself, you opened the door to see the mailman standing there, holding a small, official-looking envelope in his hand.

“Here you go. Have a nice day,” he said with a nod, handing it over before turning to leave.

You mumbled a thank-you, barely audible, closing the door slowly as you stared down at the envelope. The stiff paper, the way your name was printed in impersonal black ink—it all radiated a sense of cold formality that sent a wave of dread curling in your stomach. You tore it open with shaking hands, telling yourself it was probably just another notice, a formality from the school.

But as your eyes scanned the letter, a sickening realization washed over you. It wasn’t just a reminder or a request for information. It was a notification—a final, official statement that you’d been dropped from school because of unpaid tuition. Your parents had stopped covering your fees without any warning, leaving the balance unpaid. And because you hadn’t attended in weeks, the school had processed it as a withdrawal.

You read the words again, trying to make sense of them, as if they would change on a second pass. But they stayed the same, cold and unyielding, spelling out a reality you hadn’t prepared for. The letter offered no alternatives, no appeal. Either you somehow paid the balance yourself, or you would be permanently removed from the roster.

A numb disbelief settled over you as you sank onto the couch, clutching the letter tightly. They’d actually done it. They’d cut you off without a word, leaving you adrift, stripped of the one place you’d thought you could depend on. A mix of anger and hurt bubbled up inside you, but the betrayal was what stung the most.

Your mind raced, thoughts colliding in a frantic spiral. What would you do now? Leaving school meant giving up on so many things—dreams you’d quietly held onto, plans that seemed so certain not long ago. It was like everything you’d worked toward, every late night studying and early morning hustle, had been erased in an instant. This wasn’t just a setback— it felt like a wall you’d crashed into with no way around.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you swallowed them back, forcing yourself to press your lips into a hard line. There was no one you could turn to for help, no one who could wave a magic wand and fix this.

You sat there on the couch, feeling the weight of the letter in your hand like a stone, its meaning sinking in deeper and deeper. The room seemed even colder, emptier, as if the walls themselves were closing in on you. Every step you’d taken had been building toward something, and now that path was gone, wiped away in the span of a single letter.

No matter what mistakes you’d made, you’d never expected your own family to cut you off 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. You wanted to scream, to call them, to make them hear you and see what they’d done—but that door felt closed too, like an argument already lost. The bitter realization settled in— of course they weren’t going to reach out- they weren’t going to help. Afterall, they were the ones that kicked you out in the first place.

You glanced down at your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen as you debated sending another message to one of your friends. Maybe you could explain everything, maybe they’d understand, maybe they’d reach back and give you a lifeline. But a familiar fear held you back. The weight of your situation, your mistake, felt too heavy to burden anyone else with, and every time you imagined reaching out, a voice in the back of your mind reminded you that they hadn’t been there for you before. Why would they be there now?

The silence in the apartment grew louder, pressing in on you until it was almost unbearable. Desperate for a distraction, you got up and wandered aimlessly through the small space, moving things around on the counter, straightening the already-neat cupboards, just doing anything to keep your hands busy. But the distraction was short-lived, and the reality of your situation crept back in.

The future felt terrifyingly empty, an open void where all your plans used to be. The only clear thing was that you had no other choice now but to figure this out on your own. Slowly, a stubborn resolve began to build beneath the panic. You were here, alone, but that didn’t mean you had to stay stuck. Maybe, somehow, you could make this work. You could find a job, save up, find a way to get back into school. It felt like an impossible task, but it was the only path left.

With a deep breath, you grabbed your laptop and opened up a job-search site, scrolling through the endless list of options. Most were dead ends—part-time retail or night shifts that didn’t even pay enough to cover the rent suguru is payinh. But you forced yourself to keep looking, moving through page after page, searching for anything that might be a start, a way forward.

The hours slipped by, the weight of the decision settling over you like a cold blanket, but you kept scrolling, kept hoping that something would spark the possibility of change.

After what felt like hours scrolling through listings and filling out applications, your eyes grew tired, the screen blurring in front of you. You needed air, space to breathe, to feel something other than the weight pressing down on your chest. With a sigh, you closed your laptop, abandoning it on the couch, and made your way over to the small balcony just off the living room.

Stepping outside, you were greeted by the crisp night air, a chill that wrapped around you, cutting through the dullness. The street below was quiet, dim streetlights casting long shadows across the empty pavement. Leaning against the railing, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the cold settle into your skin, grounding you, if only for a moment. The city felt vast from here, stretching out endlessly, full of people going about their lives, yet here you were, feeling like the only one left adrift.

As you opened your eyes, you gazed out over the neighborhood, the distant hum of cars a low, steady comfort. For a fleeting moment, you felt a strange sense of freedom, as if up here on this balcony, the problems inside couldn’t quite reach you. It was quiet, peaceful even, the world below carrying on, oblivious to your struggles.

You’d imagined such a different future, one where you’d be surrounded by friends, pursuing your passions, finding yourself. But now? It all felt like a distant memory, something that had happened to someone else entirely.

The sky above was cloudy, with only a few stars managing to peek through. You stared up, trying to find some kind of sign, something to remind you that you weren’t entirely alone, that maybe there was still a chance for things to change.

You stayed there a while, letting the cold numb the tension in your body, staring into the distance, thinking about what you’d do next. The thought of reaching out for help gnawed at you, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to take that step. Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was just the fear of rejection. Either way, you knew that whatever came next would be up to you.

Your gaze drifted downward, tracing the shapes of the buildings, the shadows cast by streetlights, when a familiar flash of white caught your eye. Your heart clenched involuntarily. Gojo.

He was strolling down the sidewalk, his stride as arrogant and carefree as ever, his laughter echoing faintly up toward you. His arm was draped around the shoulders of a girl who leaned into him, her face turned up toward him with a bright smile, entirely captivated. They looked close, intimate, like they were the only two people in the world. Watching them, a dull ache pulsed in your chest, stirring a cocktail of emotions you didn’t want to face.

You gripped the railing tighter, your knuckles whitening. Memories clawed their way up, memories of him—of his smirk, his mocking words, the way he’d cornered you like he had every right. Gojo had always been cruel, but he wielded his charm like a weapon, drawing people in only to watch them squirm when he showed his true colors. He had treated you the same way, toying with you, using you, and then discarding you without a second thought.

The girl beside him had no idea, you thought bitterly. She was seeing the Gojo who played his part so well, the smooth talker, the charmer, the boy who seemed like he could do no wrong. But you knew better. You knew what lay beneath that mask, the callousness he could hide behind his easy smiles. And now, there he was, laughing without a care, completely untouched by everything he’d done to you, while you were left to piece yourself back together.

A cold, bitter anger welled up inside you, mingling with the helplessness you tried so hard to ignore. He had stolen something from you—something you could never get back. He is the reason you got kicked out and have a hard life now.

And yet here he was, walking down the street as if nothing had happened, as if you didn’t exist, a careless reminder of how easily he’d been able to walk away from the pain he’d caused.

🏷️ @watyousayin @zukowantshishonourback @wiqxx @jhutchlover67 @xxemmarldxx @sadmonke @chilichopsticks @neptunieesworld @sodoney @nessielovesfood @polarbvnny @mwtsxri @mynahx3 @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @reader69sviewpoint @emryb @starlightanyaaa @kiramdd @promiseofeywa @xuxieroll @tqd4455 @wateronlyhaha @stillpanicking @starrylibras @latorsgatorz @melancholysanatomy @cherryblossomly @littledemoness15 @thatsopanu @throwmethroughawindow @xkittiecatx @yihona-san06 @aikuoliverswife @mellow-mewow @r0ckst4rjk @virtuapicklequirkreader @heijihattorisgf @meoneee777 @ih8erika @haitanibros0007 @certainduckanchor @alisonyus @nothisispatrick300

[barzzal]

call me crosby → part seven

summary: Young, reckless, and rash, an unplanned pregnancy causes a massive rift in your relationship with then, cup-hungry 27 year-old Sidney Crosby. As he gets caught up in his own childish and selfish ways, confused to what was once certain, he lets you struggle alone. His absence reasons a miscarriage scare that leads you to end the relationship. Years after losing you, having to live a life that’s surrounded with the families his friends have built through the years embodies his greatest regret. Now with three cups and tons of awards at his disposal, Sid is given a chance to right his wrongs and win what was once the biggest loss of his life.

pairing: sidney crosby x fem!reader gen. warnings: language and theme, co-parenting, mentions of pregnancy & false miscarriage, sexual/suggestive themes, 18+ ch. warnings: parenting, tantrums, and a tad bit of angst genre: hockey rpf, fluff, angst, kid-fic, exes to lovers length: series; 6.7k masterlist: the barn, series masterlist

note: when will i get to finish this fic? we're about to find out. quick psa, i have decided to drop the taglist. it is no longer possible for me to tag 280+ users each update. reblogs and comments still go a long way. happy reading! <3 (gif used: mine)

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. teasers, interviews, events, and the like that are included in the series are purely made for fictional purposes and do not/should not represent any of the names involved in real life. please proceed with caution.

“Daddy, look at me go!” 

A child squeals enthusiastically after finally having learned how to ride a bike. The father, who was just as elated as his son, had his hands in the air cheering him on. 

It was a normal day at the park. Families roam around with little to no care to what is happening beyond the confines of the green space. So serene. The very place you’d want to be in solitude. 

“Oh! look, your ice cream is melting.” said another father to his child. 

It was a girl this time. About three years old. She had her hair down but a part of it was kept by a yellow bow. She hurriedly licks the cone and giggles. She looks up to her father with an angelic smile, handing over her ice cream. 

“You want some, dad?” she offered. 

Her father, with a gentle smile on his face, leaned over and had a bite.

He gently pats her head, “Thank you, darling.”

Daddy. Dad. He’s heard it a number of times but never had a chance to say it. He’s heard it in school, in the streets, in the diner, and in the party where he met his friends Alex and Nikita. 

Is it the same as Papa? That’s what he heard from Niki, but he is uncertain. He’s only heard of it the first time from him. Well, maybe from a few soccer friends as well but he was too young to decipher anything. 

In fact, if he had only thought harder, he would have remembered how you called his Poppy the same way. But insofar as his innocent years are concerned, to him, your father had always been just ‘Poppy.’

Lucas, with a frown on his face, scans his surroundings watching over every scene in front of him. He sits at one of the benches alone — waiting. 

What does it mean? He has become baffled by such a term. Why hasn’t he ever used it?

His attention from all the “Dads” were taken away when he saw another kid running in his direction. This time, a caucasian boy, with cheeks flaming red from crying. 

“Mommy!” he calls just as he passes Lucas. Lucas’ eyes follow the boy and he watches how he collapses in an embrace that seemed all too familiar. 

Mommy. Now that’s something he knows. 

Sure, others may call you by your name. He doesn’t like it sometimes, but he is fond of being the only one who got to call you ‘Mommy.’ 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Lucas looks up at the direction where the voice was coming from. He is now being shaded from the sun as the man towered over him. He walks over to his side and sits with him. 

“Here you go.” he says, handing him his own ice cream. Two scoops of chocolate. Boy, maybe it was his lucky day. 

With his brows still quirked, Luke smiles. 

“Thank you, Sid.” 

“Come on now, you looked serious for a minute there.” Sidney teases. “What’s on your mind?”

He lets the child finish his first bite of the treat before he asks any further. 

Once he’s through having tasted what seemed like the best chocolate ice cream he’s ever had, he looks over at Sidney, blurting out a question that caught the latter off-guard. 

“What’s a Dad?” 

“Oh.” Sidney looks at the boy’s doe eyes, thinking of how he’s supposed to go about such a question. “Well– a dad… is like your buddy! He’s someone who is always there for you. Someone who protects you, takes care of you, and makes sure that you’re as happy as you can be.” 

Sidney looks at the child as he processes what he told him. 

Lucas raises a brow, pondering. On the other hand, Sidney was beginning to sweat. 

“Hey! My mom does all those things!” he marvels, tilting his head as he asks another question. “Is she my dad?” 

“Hm,” Sidney thinks hard. Of all the queries thrown at him over the years, this was the first time he completely went blank. Maybe it’s the guilt, or the spontaneity of his son, — or maybe it’s just the simple fact that he doesn’t know how to be a ‘Dad’. 

He knew of one thing though. His son was right. You were a Dad. You have been a Father to his son more than he will ever be. Ever since Lucas was born you technically played and juggled two roles. You were two parents instead of one. No one, especially Sidney, could ever deny that. 

He clears his throat, “Yes. She’s a dad too.” 

Sidney sees the child pout. He then knew he had yet another thing to ask. 

“But…” he starts, momentarily looking over the Father and Son duo’s at the park. “Mommy’s a girl. All the dads here are boys.”

Sidney was stuck. It was either tell the child what he wanted to hear or give him a lecture on familial roles. As the afternoon sun shone on him, he just couldn’t bear the thought of Lucas wondering why he didn’t have a father. 

One thing he wanted was to have you here explaining all this to Luke. He didn’t want to make yet another mistake. Telling Luke one thing could easily mean another that he did not mean to. Surely, denying and lying to his child wouldn’t be something he’d want his son to remember him by. 

“They may be boys, but they’re not as amazing as your mom, aren’t they?” he says. 

With a smirk spreading along Lucas’ lips, he agrees, just before he gets back to eating his ice cream. 

“Yup. She’s awesome.” 

Sidney, with eyes squinted at the child, silently prays that it was the end of that conversation. 

Luke took a deep breath, quietly – just as he returned to his ice cream; letting Sidney finally breathe.

𖥸

Truth be told, Sidney was grateful that Luke seemed to have forgotten about the ‘Dad’ talk once he had stirred him on to talking about the only parent he has known all his life. Even though Sidney wanted nothing but for his son to acknowledge him as his father, he was fully aware that it was not the right time. He wasn’t even the right person to do it. For now, he is elated and content with the fact that he gets to spend his weekends with him. 

Luke’s grip on Sidney’s hand tightens upon seeing a familiar car. 

“We found it!” he says with glee, after having spotted Sidney’s vehicle. 

It was quite a walk from the park and Sidney has thought of a fun way to make it worthwhile. He had been skipping said parking spot to prolong his time with his son but you agreed to have Luke home by four in the afternoon. After all, co-parenting with you has been going well. Sidney knew full well not to abuse your kindness. 

“You good?” Sidney asks once Luke finished buckling himself in his car seat.

“A-Ok!” he answers with a thumbs up. 

Sidney ruffles his son’s hair before closing the door, finally heading home. 

“Did you have fun today?” Sidney takes a quick glance in the rearview mirror. He sees Luke’s hand deep in a bag of snacks you had packed for him. 

“Yup! We should do this again.” He cheers. 

A warm feeling spreads on Sidney’s chest, focusing his gaze towards the road. 

“Sure thing, bud.” He says, quite fond of the time he gets to have now with his son. 

As long as he had known Luke, he’s gotten a lot better in holding up a conversation than the first few times he was able to be alone with him. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Sidney likes to think he’s had a hand on such progress. 

“You’re just like my mom.” Lucas takes Sidney’s attention back momentarily. 

His brows quirk at the statement, “Whatever do you mean?”

“She always asks me if I had fun,” the child says, “maybe you’re a mom too.”

This made Sidney chuckle, “That’s not how it works, Lucas.”

“Because you’re a boy?” He asks yet again, circling back to an earlier conversation. 

Absent-mindedly, Sidney taps the steering wheel with his finger, stopping at a red light. 

He pulls the clutch up and answers, “Yes.”

Lucas marvels with a thought, “Then maybe you’re a Dad!”

“Hm. Maybe.” He treads lightly.

“Just not my Dad?” 

Sidney’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. There it was, his thin ice. 

He was taken aback and could not find a way to respond. It was not the time and the place to tell Lucas anything about his father. Let alone tell your son anything coming from him of all people. Sidney could just imagine how furious and disappointed you would be if he decides so. He wouldn’t risk losing his family ever again. 

The traffic light turns green, signaling Sidney’t turn. He looks at the rearview mirror one last time to see Lucas laser focused on the red car beside them.

He clears his throat just as he stirs the car towards the route home, “What else do you like about Mom?”

“She reads me bedtime stories!” Lucas tells him instantly. He begins listing the things he liked about you: Cooking him pancakes for breakfast, or that one dish your mom had taught you whenever he’s sick, fetching him after school, kissing him on the nose endlessly, and the fact that you are the Best Mom in the world. 

“She also takes me to the place that has the best waffles.” He says dreamily. 

With a smile on his face, Sidney replies, “Is that so?”

“Yes! Mom always helps me build my waffle fort.” Luke says, looking at the road.

“When was the last time you’ve gone to that place?” He asks. 

Luke, who was deep in thought, replies, “When was Wednesday?” 

Sidney breaks a smile, “Three days ago, bud.”

“We had lunch there last Wenzday.” Luke tells him stressing on the way you taught him to pronounce the word. 

“Hm. That’s nice.” 

Silence sits as Sidney finally pulls over your driveway.

“Wait! I have an idea!” Luke beams just as he successfully unfastened his car seat. 

“What’s that, bud?” Sidney replies, looking back from the driver seat. 

“You can come with us next time!” he beams.

“That’s a good idea. Should we ask Mom now?” Sidney quirks his brows to which Luke met with approving glee. 

“Yes!”

In a heartbeat, Luke held Sidney’s hand when he helped him get out of the car. For a few weeks that have gone by, the Saturday time at the park was becoming a routine, not only for Sidney but  mostly for Lucas too. It may be a time that the child was just happy to be in, but it was a whole lot more to his father.

𖥸

After two more knocks, you have finally managed to come to the door. 

“Hi– wow!” Luke exclaimed the moment he saw you. 

“You look so beautiful, Momma!”

“Why, thank you, my sweetheart.” You crouch to give him a small kiss atop his head. 

Once you get back up, you meet Sidney’s stare. 

The promise of waffles and pancakes, now long forgotten. 

You noticed despite knowing he’s trying his best to hide it. After all, you’ve seen that look from him countless times in the past. 

He sees you wearing a brown midi dress with a sheer black shawl draped effortlessly over your shoulder as you stand in a pair of black slingback heels from Yves Saint Laurent. 

If only you knew how badly he wanted to wrap his arms around your waist just so he could bury himself in your scent. He had pictured it numerous times since the two of you reconnected. Your wide yet shy smile, the way he could easily lift you off your feet and make you instantly giggle. 

You had your hair down and make-up on whilst wearing a perfume which he could only assume to have cost at least $200. You smelled exactly like he remembers. 

After all those years, it amazes him how you’ve never failed to catch him off-guard so effortlessly. Of all the innovative ways you’ve come up with to be cruel, this was the least he could tolerate. How could he manage to be this close to you without falling apart?

“Hey, how was he?” you asked once the boys entered. 

With ears ringing, your muffled voice moves past him like a spring breeze. 

“I was well-behaved!” Luke playfully chimes in, eavesdropping.

You and Sidney share a friendly laugh. It still felt weird being in close proximities knowing the two of you were now in amicable terms. You said you were friends, but it’s rather obvious that that is not the case. With the thought of what is good for Lucas, you and Sidney meander your way through co-parenting exchanging nothing more than reserved glances and approving nods. A glance reminding not to cross the line. A nod for a job well done.

Sidney confirms, ruffling the boy’s hair,  “You were, bud.” 

Luke props himself down on the couch, letting the adults talk. 

Once certain that the child is no longer amused by the exchanges happening between his mother and his coach, you and Sidney try to become better friends.

“You look good by the way.” Sidney says, trying to downplay a compliment. 

You give him a reserved smile as you ignore the strings he had managed to pull. 

“Thank you.” you say, “and thank you for today. I could tell he’s been having fun with you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Sidney says with a soft grin, “Thank you for letting me.”

You roll your eyes, failing to mask how you have expected his reply. 

Sidney chuckles, feigning a defensive reply. “What? Why?”

“You’ve been saying that for almost a month, Sid.” you say, indulging in a familiar banter.

“This is your Saturday now. You don’t have to thank me.”

“My Saturday?” He raises a brow.

“Well, yeah. That’s how this arrangement goes.” you remind him. 

He continues to gaze upon you like he had never done in a long while. A thick lump or regret sits in his throat for letting go of the woman meters away from him. A couple of things run in his mind – most of which he feels guilty about for being so sinful. One thing was apparent, he wasn’t off the hook as he thought he would have already been. 

He had been preoccupied by his son that he had lost attention as to how he felt about you. At least, how he still feels for you. Right now, he’s going to have to put a pin on that.

He could not help but think of what you could have possibly meant by what you said. Were you happy that he was in Luke’s life? Were you happy he was back in yours? 

Needless to say, Sidney knew not to ask questions he didn't want to have a definitive answer to.

“Are you… going somewhere?” He shoots a query.

How long has he been waiting to ask that? You think. 

“Well- yeah, actually, give me a second.” You declare, almost dismissively. 

You then grab your phone and head towards the other room. You’ve never told him what you do on your own time ever since he came back, not all things have to change just because you decided to let your guard down. 

Sidney couldn’t do anything but give you a nod of retreat. He overestimated himself with such a question despite being framed in the least intrusive manner possible. He should have known that none of that matters so long as it came from him. 

He watches you disappear into the other room, letting go of a sigh. He still has a long way to go. 

In the meantime, Sidney decides to sit beside his son who was rather busy building blocks from his lego-box. 

𖥸

It didn’t take a while for you to come back. Sidney sees you easing your way into the family room as though you had something weighing on your mind. 

“Hey,” you call for him, “Can I have a word?” 

Sidney nods, “Yeah, sure.” 

He hands one of the lego pieces back to Luke, telling him he’ll be back shortly. 

“What’s up?” he said just as he was able to gather himself up and meet you at eye level. 

“I just checked with my babysitter and she informed me she wouldn’t be able to come.” you tread your way lightly. It was so unlike you to be asking him for a favor, let alone the kind you’re about to.

Sidney reads your mind, “Do you need me to stay with Luke?” 

“Would you? I mean- only if you don’t mind me asking.” you tell him.

“I’m his dad, y/n.” he replies. “You don’t need a babysitter. You have me.” 

You hesitate. You did not want to owe him anything. 

As for Sidney, he only wanted more time with his son. 

“C’mon. It’s me. I’m here now.” 

Now. You do have him now.

What does that supposed to mean?

You blow past what he had just said, instead try to confirm, “Are you sure I’m not keeping you from anything?” 

He takes a step closer, his hand gently caressing your arm for assurance.

“You’re not.” He tells you, “Besides, it’s a Saturday. What do I even have to do?” 

Unknowingly, the both of you look at your son immersed in his own activity to even care about what you and Sidney have been discussing. 

You move away from him, crossing your arms to your chest. 

“Yes, it’s a Saturday. But you’re Sidney Crosby.” you kid.

You see his brows quirk as though there was an impending retort to your sentiment. Sidney was about to reply when the doorbell rang. 

“Oh, shoot.” You say looking at the doorway, “I need to get that.” 

Unbeknownst to you, Sidney follows. He sees you walk towards the door and open it with a giant smile the moment you saw who was at the door. 

Just like that, Sidney’s guts turn at the sight of a man a few inches taller than you, holding a bouquet of flowers at your front door. Lilies. 

Now he understood why you were all dressed up. You have a date. He figured that’s why you didn’t answer when he asked. Why would you anyway? You did not have to let him know.

He watches the man lean over, Sidney’s eyes falling onto the hand maliciously snaking its way to your back just as he watches you plant a small kiss on the man’s cheek. 

Sidney was taken aback, stoned to his feet at the sight of you in another man’s arms. 

With the same smile he’d seen from you several years ago, you invite said man inside your home. 

“Sid,” you call his attention. 

He wanted to reply but couldn’t. His throat was dry — nary a word to utter.

Sidney, however, kept his gaze at the guy walking just behind you. 

“I’d like you to meet Dean,” you say gracefully as if it wasn’t thinly veiled with caution. 

Despite that, Sidney couldn’t help but notice just how familiar this guy was. Sidney was sure he had seen him somewhere, but could not place him. This guy had an effortless charm coupled with a grin Sidney has only gotten used to seeing from the younger players in the league. It was akin to Mathew Barzal’s, being one to have the same grin. A grin that can irk and get the best of him so easily.

“Sidney,” he offers his hand, which Dean politely accepts, “Nice to meet you.”

“Uh-” Dean chuckles, glancing at you and Sidney. 

“Actually, we’ve met before.” he states.

Shocked at the information, you ask, “Really? When?” 

“You do look familiar.” Sidney affirms, ignoring your query.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Dean says with a grin again, just as he turns over to you with an answer, “We met at the hospital when you were visiting Claire.” 

The “holy shit, you’re Sidney Crosby” guy. Sidney thinks to himself. 

With a hand in his pocket, and the other placed on the back of his neck, Sidney says, “Right. I remember now.”

It was probably that one time Claire had told you Sidney just showed up at her office unannounced. 

“Isn’t this crazy? I didn’t know you were also friends with Sidney Crosby?” Dean turns to you. 

“Yeah,” you confirm reluctantly as you exchange knowing looks with Sidney, “he’s a family friend.” 

Sidney doesn’t say a word after having been caught off-guard by the sight of you and a stranger. 

Dean, on the other hand, seemed to have thought he just happened to be in a conversation with a girl who happened to be close friends with a hockey superstar. 

You could not help but feel the intense gaze Sidney puts upon you. It was as if he was waiting for you to give him some sort of assurance or a sign that what’s between you and the guy he just met is nothing compared to what he is trying to rebuild with you. As if. 

To say the least, there was indeed tension. Although not between Dean and Sidney. 

So, you try to laugh it off. “Anyway, I should probably let Luke know I’m going.” 

You exited the scene as fast as you could have and went your way to the only guy that mattered.

“Hey, you.” you say as you sat in a bean bag across from him. 

You found Luke still in his own little bubble building legos. 

“Hi momma.” he acknowledges you in a heartbeat. “Are you going now?” 

“About to.” you say, “but not without a kiss and hug.” 

He beams at the notion and quickly gets off his feet to launch himself at his poor mother. 

“Wow, I’m surprised you’re letting me go easily.” you tell him. 

Even when you’ve said it in jest, you were really not expecting him to let you go without batting an eye. Most of the time, you received endless questions interrogating you about the where’s, when’s, and whom all of the questions you’ve answered will be done with. It seemed as though you had underestimated your son yet again. 

Luke shrugs, “It’s ‘cause I know you’ll come back.” 

You tilt your head, “Really? How so?”

“Because Sidney did.” 

A smile creeps in your lips. It’s true. Sidney did come back. You promised your son he would. And that’s exactly what happened.

Despite knowing that Lucas is yet to comprehend the weight of what he had just told you, you were glad to see how confident your son has become at the thought of having someone like his Father. 

Said smile however, drifts away just as fast as you caught yourself having such thought. Father. Your son is slowly becoming accustomed to the normalcy, that is, his friend Sidney. You were leaving albeit temporarily but your son is already pushing you out the door because he had someone else to be with him. Sidney is slowly fitting into a role you have not even thought of giving him. You feel petrified because Sidney might actually be able to play the part and you can no longer keep him out of your life. 

The inkling that you might lose control of the things in the palm of your hand scares you more than you like to admit. For now, you bask in the reality that as much as Lucas is concerned, to him, Sidney is just Sidney.

“Sidney’s gonna be with you while I’m gone, is that okay?” you tell your son as you hold him in your arms. 

“Mkay!” Luke cheers as he innocently gazes upon you. 

“Oh, my sweet boy.” You caress his cheeks just before you plant a small kiss atop his nose. 

“I love you.” 

Scrunching his nose, he replies, “Love you too, mom.”

𖥸

Luke told Sidney he wanted to watch The Jungle Book after he had gotten into his pajamas. Sidney has tuned out much of the film for his mind was clearly somewhere else. 

It had been at least three hours since you left. And even though he does not want to admit it, he could no longer wait for you to return. He wanted to know who he was. He wanted to know if it was just a one time thing or if he was someone you have been seeing for quite some time. He wanted to have the chance to ask you about it, but he knows he’s better off not asking at all. 

He could not bear to think about the possibility of someone else – some other guy in your life; even more so his son’s. 

Co-parenting with you has been tough but that’s something he can soldier through. In spite of all conditions and demands, nothing stood a chance because Sidney only wanted to see you and his son every chance he could get. 

He can bear every hurdle you throw at him if that’s what it takes to fight for his family. You can even treat him like a rug and he still wouldn’t bat an eye. However, after seeing you with Dean, and the thought of you going on dates and meeting new people, that’s something Sidney could not stomach. 

He was scared, terrified to his core. 

He didn’t want to lose you back when he had you, but he still did. 

How could he possibly lose you now?

But just like Sidney’s, your mind was with him and your son back home. 

You wanted to go back the moment you sat down for dinner. Dean was going over the menu, talking about how starved he felt after a long day at the hospital but you were thinking about whether or not Sidney was able to get Luke ready in time for bed. 

Nevertheless, you still paid attention for the entirety of the date. Well, you still tried.

You learned much of the basics about Dean. He was an only child born and raised in Cleveland. He wanted to move to a place close but far away enough from his folks hence, the move to Pittsburgh. 

He had this cheeky “doctor” smile comparable to that of Chase’s in House MD. Same blond hair and blue eyes. Perhaps, the only box unchecked was that he wasn’t Australian.

“So… “ he starts, a hand inside his coat pocket, the other holding the umbrella that was shielding the both of you from the drizzle. Dean insisted on walking you to your door despite the fact, clearly wanting a bit more time before the date officially ends. 

“What’s with you and Sidney?”

“Huh?” You flutter your eyes, clearly distracted. 

“Was he a client?” he adds. 

“Oh, us? No– yeah, he’s an old friend.” You debated between lying and telling the truth. 

“Are you… a fan of the Penguins?” you tread carefully, wanting to be nice.

He thinks a moment before answering, “Not of the team nor Sidney per se, just hockey in general.”

“Luke seems to be real close to him,” he noticed. 

You give him a reserved smile, wishing he would let go of his curiosity. “Yes, they are awfully close.”

A brief silence passes by before he asks yet again, “Am I getting in the middle of something between you two?” 

“Huh– what? No, of course not.” You reply in an instant, way too fast; way too rehearsed.

Dean nods slowly, letting it pass. It dawned on him that maybe he really was. 

Nevertheless, your response was followed by a reassurance. “You’re not. Don’t worry about it.”

Dean stops at his tracks, looking past you and straight to the front door of your home.

“Well, this has been nice,” he says. “I had a great time. Thank you.”

“I enjoyed the evening too.” you say, looking up at him. “Thank you.”

He leans towards you– closer than usual, planting a small kiss on your cheek. 

Warmth spreads on your face, feeling giddy at the thought of what it was like in your 20s when you used to date and meet people before you met Sidney. 

You wrap your arm around him, holding him in a friendly embrace. “Good night, Dean” you say.

“Good night.” He says it back along with your name. “See you around.”

You turn on your heels and finally head home.

𖥸

The low light of the television grazed over Luke’s face just as Sidney’s chest and breathing lulled him to sleep. Sidney had no idea what time it was. Between reaching for his phone tucked in his back pocket and accidentally waking up his son, he knows that he’d rather just stew in silence and wait for the sunrise. 

It was the first time Sidney got to spend such a long time with Luke. Despite the guilt he felt as he cruised in what was only a mere fraction of your life as a single parent, Sidney did fondly enjoy being a father even if it meant doing it unbeknownst to the very person he wanted to know the most. 

Luke was nestled in his arms, soundly asleep. Oddly enough, his father’s chest made a very comfortable make-shift pillow. Maybe the child didn’t really care whether it was or it wasn’t. Sidney’s scent was new to him— something that didn’t remind him of anything. It was a new scent Sidney would now be associated with. 

For as long as he remembers. 

His pondering was cut short the moment he heard the fumbling of keys on the other side of the front door. You were home.

He reaches for the remote, and shuts the television off. 

When he hears you come in, he closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

You quietly close the door behind you as you come home to a house fast asleep. You take off your coat, and your heels before threading your way lightly towards the living room. 

Upon entering, you see a sight that easily tugged at your chest. Sidney holding your son who was deep in sleep right on his chest. He had his arm wrapped around the boy’s back, the other resting by his side. Luke, being the child that he is, was close to drooling over his father’s shirt. 

You recognize the quilt your mother made Luke covering both of them. You ease your way in as you sit on your knees beside Sidney, unaware that your faces were inches away from each other. 

You softly graze your hand over Luke’s head, accidentally waking up Sidney.

He clears his throat, the moment he laid eyes on you. 

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?” you whisper. 

Sidney only shakes his head. He had been awake the entire time. 

He gathered the courage to ask while you were busy admiring your son, “How did the date go?”

You absent-mindedly smile, “It went nicely.” you say. 

Sidney’s heart sank. 

“I haven’t really gone out in a while. It did feel good to be out in the city.”

Before Sidney could even respond, you’ve already put your attention on your son. 

“I hope he wasn’t too much to handle.” you say. 

“Too much?” Sidney can’t help but grin. “He’s wonderful.”

You continue admiring the way your baby looked so peaceful, even if it meant it was in his father’s arms. Caressing his cheeks, ever so slightly.

“How come?” He asks again.

“Hm?” you respond, meeting his eyes in a second. 

You break away but Sidney keeps his gaze on you. He watches intently as to what the answer could be. He searched for any glimmer in your eyes, but they weren’t there. 

A hollow laugh escapes as you feel sorry for yourself. You have never given it much thought, but perhaps you have neglected yourself putting everything else first, one way or the other. 

“Well, between work and being a mom, there really isn’t enough time left for just myself.” 

“Do you think you’re going to see him again?” He asks, biting the inside of his cheeks. He was afraid to know the answer. However, what choice does he have? He needed to know. 

Saying one thing would easily mean another.

A ‘yes’ would mean his chance of mending ties with the family he once had, would get even slimmer than it already was. It means having to live a life of endless Saturday’s dropping off his son’s in the hands of his mother’s husband. It could mean a life lived by the side lines. Luke gets to live a life with a father that wanted him the very first chance he could get. And you, you finally get to move on while Sidney lives with the thought of losing you each time he sees you. 

A ‘no,’ – well, isn’t much of an assurance either. He might walk the halls of your home, but he knows all too well you can easily keep him out of your home altogether. 

The only thing he could do is hope that you’d tell him the truth. 

You gaze at him, trying to decipher the look he had on his face muddled by the night light. 

You shrugs, “I don’t—” 

Luke fuzzes, awakened by his parents’ talking. 

“Mommy…”

Sidney could only think of how that phrase could have ended. 

“Hey, baby.” You softly call him.

“You’re late.” He murmurs. 

You failed to stifle a laugh, “Am I in trouble?”

“Mm. No.” He says, voice laced with sleep. 

“I’m glad.” you say as you plant a small kiss on his forehead. 

Sidney caresses the back of his son, admiring the bond you had with him. 

“Do you want to sleep in your room? It’s more comfortable.” You offer.

Luke, lazily nods. When Sidney feels him move, he props himself up and says, “I got him.”

True to his words, Sidney got Luke.

𖥸

“He’s finally down for the night.” You inform Sidney as you close the door to Luke’s bedroom. 

“I really appreciate you spending time with him.” You earnestly tell Sidney. “Thank you.”

He gives you a nod, overwhelmed by how your words meant to him. 

“As long as you let me.” He says, filled with glee.

What you say next almost sent him into a spiral. 

“You’re his Dad, I don’t have to.” You answer, despite knowing what made him say such a thing.

Sidney was able to compose himself, absorbing what you had just said. He didn’t want to misread anything especially when the manner you said it, despite being sincere, was still guarded– calculated.

Sidney smiles, at a loss for words. 

Your eyes were torn away from Sidney towards the window. He follows your gaze. The rain is pouring harder than earlier, steady and rhythmic, lulling the city to sleep. Once the sky grumbled and thunder roared from a distance, Sidney knew the traffic would get worse and it meant him needing to go home.

“I should probably get going.” he tells you with a steady voice. Disappointed that his day with you and Luke was over.

You look at him with a puzzled expression painted on your face. Driving at night in such a weather condition isn’t a good idea. Nevertheless, you brushed away the thought and let him take the stairs. 

Silence filled your home, leaving only the rain dripping down the windows and the sound of your footsteps witnessing you debate with yourself upon the obvious, that is, whether or not invite Sidney to stay the night. 

You watch him take his coat, eventually wearing it to prepare for the road. 

You fold your arms close to your chest as you let him get to the door. With lips agape, you hesitate. 

Something made you unsure. You didn’t really know for whose benefit you were doing this for. You didn’t want to weaken your defenses, nor send Sidney the wrong message at the expense of a mere gesture. 

A faint grumble spreads in the sky yet again, this time with lightning illuminating a part of Sidney’s face. His coat was already damp just by holding the door ajar. 

He gives you one final smile just as he closes the door behind him. 

Your hand catches the doorknob before he could manage to do so.

“Sid,” You call his name, instantly making his heart twist. 

He could barely hear anything because of the weather, but his name coming from your lips cut through clear enough. 

Sid. It had been a while since you last called him that. It was always Sidney, or nothing at all. Surely, it was enough to stop him in his tracks, forgetting about even wanting to go home. 

“You don’t have to go,” you say the moment he faced you. You open the door for him, avoiding his gaze. 

Sidney was inches away from you that he could barely mask the abrupt change in his breathing. He didn’t want to seem too excited, but no matter how much he denies it, he simply was.

“Are you sure?” He genuinely asks. 

You nod, “I am. You can stay. The rain isn’t letting up anyway.” 

Sidney studies your face for a moment, searching for the faintest sign of insincerity – or even regret as regards having to invite him in the first place. But alas, your silence and inability to meet his eyes made him certain that you wanted him around. 

So, he no longer fought with what he felt and instead went along with the words you have for him. 

He gives you a nod, quietly taking off his coat to put it back where it was a minute ago. 

“Thanks.” was all that he could utter. 

“You can take the couch in the family room,” You suggest. “It’s more comfortable.”

“Sure.” He answers with a gentle grin, not wanting to impose.

You didn’t bother to waste one second of silence shared with your ex-boyfriend and head towards the linen cabinet to get him a fresh sheet and a blanket.

Sidney, stoned to his feet, watches you disappear down the hall, still dazed at the thought of the moment earlier. He couldn’t put into words how he felt. He was filled with hope, overjoyed, and overwhelmed at once. Neither could you for you were feeling the exact opposite. You were scared, confused, and regretting the crippling indecision that led you making the call anyway. 

Upon returning, he sees you carrying an extra pillow along with the white sheet and duvet earlier promised. It was late at night and the rain hadn't eased at all. Sidney was glad he wasn’t spending it on the road.

You hand him the pillow and sheets which he takes off of your hands immediately, brushing skin to skin for a brief moment. 

You don’t say another word. You turn on your heels and aim towards your way upstairs. 

He wanted to thank you once more, but chose to let you go. After all, all this could mean nothing short of a kind gesture. A friend helping out a friend. An exchange unworthy of being read too much into. 

As Sidney settled in for the night, nestled in the sheets that smelt like the bed he used to share with you, he stared at the window – deep in thought. Who knew after all these years that he’d get to sleep again under the same roof as you. Walk the same halls, even if it’s short-lived. 

One thing still couldn't escape him. Tonight meant something. Even if it meant something far fetched or surreal. It meant he had reasons to be hopeful. Tonight, he lets himself sink in the present as he closes his eyes, warmth spreading in his chest, content with the thought of finally having his family nearby.

note: hi! i made the decision to drop the taglist for the remaining chapters. the tags aren't really working anymore considering the tag limit and it's honestly time consuming. apart from this, i wanted to remove the reason for me waiting for feedbacks bc oftentimes, y’all like but do not rb grrr! i want to be able to write with the little time i have now and i don’t want the lack of feedback/s ruin what i enjoy doing in my free time. i hope you guys understand. rest assured, this series is going to be completed (for my own peace of mind) ♡

i appreciate all kinds of feedback

[really-burnt-toast]

Redesigning my COTL cast pt.1

HAHA I'm finally done! I only made busts tho bc Im lazy and Im not putting myself through drawing a size chart... YET.

It WILL come, just so I can show pretty outfits and show how ridiculous Leshy's hight is LOL

If you see any spelling mistakes, please ignore them <3

(more info and rambling under cut)

Here I'll write some more things relating to each character;

Lamb

Born in Darkwood to a single mother, their mom had named them Mellia after the flowers that grow there, since they had aided in striving off an illness she had during the pregnancy.

The Lamb grew up pretty happily despite being on the run. Their mother was eventually caught whilst they made an escape. During their years of hiding, they broke their leg during one particularly risky escape and were caught not long after.

Their number is 1.600.666 because I keep making a connection between Darkwood and Germany's Schwartzwald - there are 1.6 million sheep in Germany - so I decided to have that be the approximate number. 666 was just added for fun.

Their ear was tagged to keep track of how many sheep were caught in which realm. They just so happened to be the last to be executed. By mere coincidence.

They were born without horns and kinda made the crown shape into a set. It has the benefit that they can rip em off and use them as impromptu weapons.

Due to centuries of being treated as a tool for a prophecy and merely a vessel, their self esteem is downright horrid. Whilst they don't condone followers speaking ill of them, they pretty much let Narinder trample on their feelings up until they had snapped one day. In the end it did help them both, but it wasn't great it had to be taken to that point.

Extra: I added the vitiligo because when I imagine a human version, I couldn't help but see them as having Vitiligo. Their leg limp was made after I thought it would make them look more imposing seeing someone "weak" suddenly pull out a giant hammer.

Narinder

Found within a burning village under rubble, clutching a crown as war raged around them. He was found by Shamura and taken in.

He was the first to create resurrection and back then it was an EXTREMELY taxing ritual. It would require his own godly flesh to beckon people back to life - thus it would literally cause his skin and flesh to melt off his bones. Now that's not needed anymore but his body is still weak to it, meaning during certain stress factors, he can still become skeletal. He doesn't have scarring from it, but gained some cool markings.

He was bound by his arms, torso and neck - all of which are scarred. In the afterlife he was perpetually sitting, causing him to be paralyzed from the waist down. Once he was usurped he had to regain his ability to walk and was taken care of by the Lamb.

He was in a catatonic state for many years and it only got better gradually with many setbacks. For years he never left the bed and by the time his Siblings had been rescued, he had barely started going outside. He was also suffering from chronic pains which wasn't really helpful.

He's also very... Temperamental. It took him just as long to say anything nice to the Lamb and it took him extra long to see them as more than his vessel.

Extra: I changed his markings to be more like I had imagined them. The catatonic trait and chronic pain was added after the update and I remember how horrible it was having tendonitis and I wanted to channel my distaste into Narinder.

Shamura

Found and raised by the last gods, they weren't the greatest sibling. They may have taken in the others but it took them a long time to be anything other than cold. With Kallamar, Shamura was distant and strict - then with Narinder they attempted to be less harsh after the kid started crying himself to sleep. With Heket and Leshy they got less and less cold. They tried their best, they'd argue.

They got carried away by their feelings as they had feared at the start and that's when the first prophecy came to them. They had kept it hidden for way too long until the balance of the crown's powers were ripping at the seams due to Narinder's pursuit in power - and they made a decision. They had told Kallamar first. Then Heket and Leshy were brought in.

Stuff happened. Now they are barely coherent and at most have an hour or two at a time where they seem to make sense. Leshy stays with them the most. Kallamar takes care of them. Heket takes care of the rest. Their skull is caved in, they lost an eye and limbs - some of the damages can't be hidden by bandages.

There's also this thing that their crown keeps getting out of control whilst trying to keep their mind stable - sometimes they'll get startled - attempt to form a weapon and instead end up with their arm speared through. They have scarring all over their body from it.

Upon recruitment they are pretty overwhelmed. Their crown can't stop them from breaking anymore and they have gotten so used to godhood that mortality now feels like they are literally rotting alive. They can feel their body wasting away.

Only after getting their relic back do they start becoming more independent and stable. They nowadays go through some sort of rehab to try and regain their sense of self.

Extra: Not much was added. I wanted to give them Glasses but I can't for the life of me draw them with a pair... So Ill just say they have them but not show them LOL

Kallamar

His past is basically forgotten. It sorta slipped away since he hadn't deemed it fit to be remembered. At first he had MANY fights with Shamura, then it ceased after a confrontation turned violent which left him with a bad scar.

He had to take care of his younger siblings whilst coming to terms with godhood - filling in whenever Shamura wasn't physically or mostly emotionally unavailable. For a long time he was the only one that could comfort his ailing siblings. Dealing with that sort of made him pretty easily agitated.

When Shamura proposed the plan, he had been hesitant - but ultimately didn't say anything.

Now he takes care of his siblings medically. He hates himself more than he hates anyone else and as much as he is quick to condemn and betray Shamura - he is also quick to condemn himself. Though maybe not as enthusiastically or openly.

He likes to compensate. Giving gifts to request forgiveness - grand displays of favoritism or mainly decking himself and his multiple spouses out with Jewels. He still keeps his wedding rings around his neck and his earring references his siblings.

Funnily enough, he caused the least troubles to the Lamb. They could argue he even seemed relieved after a short while of staying in the cult.

Extra: Added Jewelry and two tentacles because he looked naked without them.

Heket

Loudmouth frog that when found with her crown, she started trying to fight Shamura - insulting whatever parent they had. She kept threatening to poison them too.

In the lineup of her siblings, she was often the one who took the sidelines. If she was happy, she was left alone. If she was displeased, she'd let herself known. The most uncomplicated of the siblings.

You'd almost miss how every other bishop would seek her out when help was needed. While Shamura helped with godhood and Kallamar with emotional needs - Heket was a good person to pester with anything else. She'd handle it - just let big sis do it. Even if she was the second youngest - it's funny how even Kallamar and Narinder would occasionally use the nickname.

Then when everyone else was dealing with their wounds, she picked up the pace and kept their respective cults from falling apart. She handled Silk cradle until Shamura could - helped with Darkwood and took over Anchordeep when Kallamar was tending to the others. No problem.

She was still loud when entering the cult. Not as much as her brother - but she loved to cause scenes. Her muteness didn't seem to hinder her at all with that. She's not allowed near knives but somehow can handle axes?

Her temper problems don't get better. She just stops being an asshole about it.

She prefers having scarfs covering her neck bandages whilst they're all bloody and disgusting.

Extra: Nothing because Heket is already perfect.

Leshy

Literally a weird insect that kept clinging to the crown until it grew big enough to hold in one hand. It bit anything that got close and by the time Shamura found it - he had started eating small critters.

And god, he kept growing and growing until he wasn't a small worm in Shamura's hand but literally too big to fit through most doors. They suspected he'd grow until the end of time. Or well, now since his crown is gone.

He never listens. He screams for fun and overshares the worst details to the point he manages to break his siblings into just accepting anything he talks about. They can't even scold him or punish him since Leshy always finds a way to make things worse for anyone else but himself.

He also copies everyone. First it was Heket's tone. Then it was Narinder's behavior - now he started growing flowers and vine braids to make fun of Kallamar and his antlers were at first a crude mimic of Shamura's pedipalps and now they grow vines to be similar to the jewels hanging from them. He refuses to acknowledge doing so.

He's very clingy. After locking away Narinder, he stayed with Shamura every day until they were out of bed rest. He follows his siblings around and when he does give them a second to breathe - hes probably laying around in Darkwood instead of doing anything productive. He does tends to plants occasionally, but he prefers "to let chaos do its thing" - as if that means anything.

He makes for a great gardener after he stopped trying to break everything upon recruitment. And once he got over growling at every living thing - he actually became one of the most well liked people living there.

Leshy knows exactly what someone needs and somehow finds a way to achieve that with the littlest of efforts. It's the thought that counts.

Extra: Braid and vines because I thought Leshy would look cute with it.

Special: The 4 bishops all wear old faith themed robes, but Shamura got the elder clothes for comfort and Leshy kept tearing his clothes apart so he is not permanently excluded from having any special outfits as punishment. Narinder wears fancy robes (who happen to be loose and warm while being special - otherwise he'd complain)

The Lamb wears one of the leaked fleeces since I loved the red riding hood aesthetic.

In the end this turned more into biographies than actual explanations but its 3:30am, Im sleep deprived and I wanted to get my thoughts out because I start having memory problems again YIPPEE

[wastingmylifesecondatatime]

Thomas Shelby Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Updated: July 15th, 2025 🔞 = mature Other masterlists: mother masterlist (2019-2024), mother masterlist (2025)

NEW ADDITIONS:

Talk of the Town by @runnning-outof-time (added: July 15th, 2025)

↳ "(Y/N)'s had enough of the whispering that always seems to happen when she's out and around Small Heath."

36 Minutes by @acewritesfics (added: Apr 4th, 2025)

↳ "Not caring that she's in one of the fanciest restaurants in London, Y/N has her elbows on the table, her chin resting on a closed first while her other hand swirls the wine in her glass around before she takes a sip."

A Symbol Of Love by @garrison-girl-08 (added: May 06th, 2025)

↳ "Standing in your main bathroom of the apartment, you wiped a bead of sweat from your forehead."

Aces by @queers-gambit (added: Apr 4th, 2025)

↳ "During a terrible storm, you're invited to stay at your boss' house. years of tip-toeing around one another comes to an end when emotions are finally laid on the table."

After The Storm, The Sun by @call-sign-shark (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "If there was one thing you had never seen since your wedding with the infamous Thomas Shelby it was his smile."

Ain't She Sweet by @look-at-the-soul (added: March 30th, 2025)

↳ "“How was school, Charlie?” You tried to make small talk with Tommy’s son, he had been very quiet, looking out the window."

Birthdays Are Better In Bed by @runnning-outof-time (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "(Y/N) starts her birthday off in the best way possible: in bed with her family."

Don't Touch Me by @calummss (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "You are alone in the dark on your way back to your husband, when a man shows up. Tommy wouldn’t let this slide."

Gone With The Leaves by @awritesthings1 (added: Apr 4th, 2025)

↳ "Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good."

Happy Wife, Happy Life by @evita-shelby (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "Or Tommy gets drunk and assumes his wife is someone else so he sleeps on the floor instead."

I Believe You Dropped Something, Mr Shelby by @acewritesfics (added: Apr 4th, 2025)

↳ "Y/N leaves her new flat and begins the walk to a pub she overheard a few men discussing, determining she needed to go out for a few hours."

If Speaking Is Silver, Then Listening Is Gold by @queers-gambit (added: March 30th, 2025)

↳ "You require a bit of reprieve after the week you had, and Tommy's a gentleman."

Little You-s and I-s by @multific (added: March 30th, 2025)

↳ "You and Tommy deal with the changes that come with your pregnancy."

Lost And Lucky by @holacia3 (added: Apr 4th, 2025)

↳ "A sunny day at the zoo leads to an unexpected introduction with two brothers."

Me Time by @garrison-girl-08 (added: March 30th, 2025)

↳ "Flicking through your many dresses, you bit your lip."

Mr Thief Shelby by @misstress-riddle (added: Apr 4th, 2025)

↳ ""Sweetheart, are you ready?" [name]'s voice rang throughout the house as she finished placing her coat over her outfit, rummaging through her purse to see if she had enough money to do her shopping shortly after."

My Favorite Story by @runnning-outof-time (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "Tommy finds himself spending time in his office for other reasons once he finds out (Y/N)'s interest in the room."

No One But You by @runnning-outof-time (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "Tommy assures (Y/N) that she’s the only woman he wants after two women from his past reappear in his life."

No Negotiations by @fallatyourfeet (added: Apr 26th, 2025)

↳ "Tommy thought he had been very careful keeping his relationship with YN a secret, but no, his number one enemy had discovered you. And these things rarely playout well in the world of the Peaky Blinders."

🔞 Revenge by @hllywdwhre (added: Apr 19th, 2025)

↳ "Reader takes personal offense over Sabini’s attack on Tommy."

Runaway by @princessofmarvel (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "Thomas has made a deal with a man to help his business. Thomas’s only condition? To marry the man's daughter. Except she doesn’t want to marry him."

Safe And Sound by @misstress-riddle (added: Apr 4th, 2025)

↳ ""Ooh, where are you heading?" you ask Polly who places a hat on top of her head and she sends you a smile as you greet her."

Solace by @garrison-girl-08 (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "You had been in a deep sleep, your whole body relaxed."

Tailored by @peakbys (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "Your little double life starts to unravel when your husband shows up to avenge his father."

The Brother That Always Wins by @runnning-outof-time (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "(Y/N) is oblivious to the fact that three of the most powerful men in Birmingham are interested in her. When it's all said and done though, the brother that always wins, wins."

The Woman In The Painting by @little-diable (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "The reader works as Tommy's maid, she knows all about Arrow House, even about those souls that are no longer alive but still around."

Three Years by @runnning-outof-time (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "Tommy’s attempts to reconnect with (Y/N) don’t go as he hoped they would."

🔞 Treat Me Wrong by @lovelybucky1 (added: March 29th, 2025)

↳ "“I think we should break up,” you say."