#《 but be assured she's still going to be a bundle of angst 》

[magichcuse]

Speaking of redesigns, I also need to redesign Vivian (and Patrick—I kinda had an idea for him, but I'm not sure if I'm sold on it)

I'll keep Vivian's old design around for AU stuff and whatnot, but I really want to give her a fresh coat of paint like the others.

[ghostedgwen]

under that attitude | j.potter

note : I'll have you know it was very funny to take breaks from writing this to create rollercoasters on my roblox theme park tycoon that I managed on the side, I cannot just do one thing lately - at least it was productive

warnings : some angst and a lot of overthinking, pining, misunderstandings (only a bit), two dumb idiots avoiding their feelings, idiots in love, a whole lot of fluff despite the denial

You were always good at keeping secrets - especially the one about your Legilimency. No one could know, because you didn’t have a solid prediction of how the wizarding world would react to that information. But everything changes the day you hear the truth behind his insults - the way his heart stutters when you argue, the desperate, half-terrified way he wants you. 4.9k words

. . . Like, I want you, bless my soul, and I ain't gotta tell him. I think he knows.

Like how most depressing things are, it was worse at night.

The castle breathed in the dark - long, slow sighs that rattled through stone and bone alike - and it was then, in the hush between curfew and dawn, that the voices were loudest. Not aloud. Never aloud. In your head. Flickering, always uninvited.

You leaned against the cold wall outside the Slytherin common room, your head tipped back, eyes closed. The torches burned low, sputtering against damp stone. Somewhere down the passage, you could hear the slow drip of water, the groan of ancient pipes. Familiar sounds.

The other ones - the ones that weren't supposed to exist - you kept locked tight behind your ribs.

You hadn't meant to become a Legilimens. Hadn't studied it, hadn't even known the word when it first happened. It had just. . . started. It started as barely audible whispers at first. At eleven years old, you'd thought everyone heard them - snatches of feeling, flickers of thought that didn't belong to you.

It wasn't until second year, during a Charms duel, that you'd understood: when your opponent raised her wand and spat a hex - and you had already known she was going to - because you had heard her panicked mind scream "Left - aim for her left!" before she ever moved.

You’d dodged without thinking. You won without even expecting an upper-hand thanks to hearing her thoughts and you’d walked back to the Slytherin huddle under curious eyes, your skin cold with the realization that something was wrong.

There were rules about things like this, from everything you have read so far.

Legilimency was dark magic in most people's eyes - an invasion, a violation - a talent reserved for those who couldn't be trusted. Monsters wore polite faces. Mind readers didn't get second chances.

So you told no one. Not even your dormmates, whose secrets you could taste sometimes when they laughed too hard.

And most days, it was fine. Manageable. If you stayed guarded. If you didn't look too closely. It only slipped when people were loud inside - when their feelings boiled over and the world around you blurred at the edges and suddenly their thoughts weren’t behind their teeth anymore, but bleeding out into yours.

You hadn't meant to overhear anyone.

But here, in the long velvet dark of Hogwarts, the mind had no walls.

Potions was a war zone on a good day. On a bad day, when the Gryffindors shared the clasroom with Slytherins, it was mutually assured destruction. Why the professors allow for this inter-house collaboration was beyond you, if there was a house the snakes mildly respect other than themselves - it would be the Ravenclaws.

You sat at your usual table near the back, carefully slicing a bundle of valerian roots, pretending not to notice James Potter throwing glances your way like hexes. He was always known to prank Slytherins, and you were not straying his radar with how you competed on the pitch often.

You anticipated it but still braced yourself for impact.

"Careful, ____," he drawled loud enough for half the room to hear. "Wouldn’t want you brewing up something - oh, I don't know - illegal."

You didn't even flinch, you saw the insult coming a mile away and barely rolled your eyes at how lame it was.

"Touching concern, Potter," you murmured, not looking up. "Planning to report me to the authorities or just desperate for my attention again?"

A few Gryffindors snickered. Lily Evans shot James a warning glare over her cauldron. He ignored it with practiced ease, an amused smile playing at his lips.

He strode closer, arms folded, the portrait of a boy who’d never been told no. Which is funny given how he's very much like a spoiled pureblood heir, only his robe colours were different. 

You neglected to point out how great he would be in your house, he’d thrive alongside the other snot-nosed pureblood brats.

"Just making sure the dark wizard training program’s running on schedule," he said, smirking. "Be a shame if someone as - what's the term? Frighteningly competent - wasn't putting in the hours."

You looked up then, meeting his gaze coolly and that was when it happened.

The world shifted - not outwardly, not visibly - but inside your head, the way it always did when someone's emotions rose too high and their mind got too loud. And James Potter, his mind was practically screaming at you, demanding to be invaded.

James's smirk stayed fixed on his face, not faltering even when your sharp gaze held his - full of mockery and bravado.

But beneath it, like a crack in the ice, you heard:

"Look at her. Smug. Brilliant. Bloody hell, she's so pretty it’s infuriating."

Your knife slipped, slicing too hard through the root. You caught yourself enough for anyone to not notice the stumble - steady hands with no visible flinch - but your heart jumped painfully against your ribs.

Stay calm.

Stay normal.

Outwardly, you quirked a brow. "If you spent half as much time on your coursework as you do worrying about me, Potter, you might actually pass your exams."

More laughter. A few Gryffindors - Sirius Black among them - hooted loud enough to make Slughorn look up from his desk.

James flushed slightly, his smirk faltering before he masked it with exaggerated affront.

You went back to your valerian root, slicing with vicious precision, pretending your ears weren’t ringing with the echo of his mind’s betrayal.

He hated you, he said. You were rivals, he said.

And yet.

"Bloody hell, she's so pretty it’s infuriating."

You didn't even want to think about what else he might be shouting inside that head of his.

You just had to survive the rest of class without cracking first.

The library was supposed to be a safe place - for you. Just you and the books and the quietness, somehow people's thoughts are quieter here. They get too focused that your abilities were not being demanded by their thoughts.

Low voices, scratching quills, sound of parchment - no loud Gryffindor boys itching for a fight. No accidental mind-reading incidents. Just quiet.

Or it should have been.

You hunched over a thick tome on advanced defensive charms, trying and pathetically failing to focus. The words blurred, your mind replaying Potions over and over.

'Look at her. Smug. Brilliant. Bloody hell, she's so pretty it’s infuriating.'

You shook your head sharply.

"No," you muttered under your breath. "No way."

Maybe you'd misheard. There was absolutely no way, the lack of sleep from slaving over N.E.W.T.s and the nearing Gryffindor vs Slytherin Quidditch match was getting to you, taking its toll. You convince yourself that was all.

Maybe James Potter didn't actually think you were. . . that.

You sank lower in your seat, dragging a hand across your face. 

You had rules about this. You never took strong flashes from someone and assumed they were true. Minds were messy, complicated things. Thoughts didn't always mean anything.

Still. You started noticing it.

The next day in Charms, you caught James looking at you across the room, chin propped on his hand, staring. When you met his gaze, he immediately dropped a book on the floor and made a big show of retrieving it.

Later, walking down the corridor between classes, you heard him before you saw him - laughing too loudly with Sirius, knocking shoulders with Peter Pettigrew, and the second he spotted you, his whole posture changed. Straighter. And then, predictably, he opened his mouth.

"Watch it, snake," he called, as you passed.

You rolled your eyes and kept walking, but your fingers twitched at your sides. Because even though his words were full of spite, his mind had been humming loud enough to burn:

"There she is. Merlin, she’s - "

You cut yourself off before the thought fully formed. You didn't want to know.

James Potter was many things - loud, insufferable, reckless - but he couldn't actually like you.

Could he?

You buried yourself deeper into your books, trying to drown out the noise - both outside and inside your head.

But the thing about secrets was: they had a way of refusing to stay quiet for long.

The air still smelled like grass and almost-rain when you cut across the pitch, broom slung lazily over one shoulder.

You’d only come to watch - Slytherin practice had ended hours ago - but somehow you’d found yourself lingering, pretending to study the Gryffindor formations. Pretending not to watch a certain messy-haired idiot loop the sky like he owned it.

You should have left.

You should have.

Boots scuffed behind you. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

"Well, well, well," James Potter's voice drawled, closer than you expected. "Didn't realize Slytherins were so obsessed with Gryffindor athleticism."

You snorted, not bothering to face him yet. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter. I was studying your mistakes."

He caught up easily, falling into step beside you as you made for the gates. His hair was still damp from flying, sticking to his forehead. There was a smudge of mud across his cheek, and he grinned like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Sure you were, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt - but your heart stuttered.

Because even before it hit you fully, you could feel it - the swell of emotion, bright and reckless, practically leaking out of him.

And then you heard it:

"If she knew what I really thought of her, I'd die. I'd let her hex me if it meant she'd touch me."

You stumbled.

Just a little. Just enough that you hoped he thought you tripped on the uneven ground.

But inside? There is absolute chaos brewing in you.

You recovered quickly, shooting him a scathing look, but James only laughed - like you were the most amusing thing he'd seen all day. Given the track record of his thoughts, there might be some weight to that.

He ruffled his already-ruined hair and gave you a wink that nearly made you want to hex him on principle.

"Careful, snake. Wouldn't want you falling for me."

You scoffed. "As if."

But your mind was spinning.

Because it was real. All of it - the glances, the smirks, the insults that were less venom and more cover.

James Potter didn’t hate you. He hated how much he wanted you.

The night was unbearably still, the only sound the quiet ripple of the Black Lake against the shore. You sat by the water, your knees drawn up to your chest, staring at the moonlight dancing on the surface. Your breath came in slow, measured patterns, but inside, it was chaos.

You liked coming here to help calm yourself - the sound of the soft ripples of water, the loneliness of it all as the moon shone brightly. Finally, it's quiet - truly quiet.

No person around whose privacy you could invade.

You had never wanted to know what others were thinking. You had never asked for this. But it had happened. You were a Legilimens.

And now, you knew too much.

James Potter likes you. He wants you.

The thought shouldn’t have had the power it did. It shouldn’t have twisted inside you like this, leaving you cold and unsettled. But it did. And you hated yourself for it.

You could still hear his voice, taunting you in Potions, the insults he threw your way. "Dark wizard in training," he'd called you, his words sharp and cruel. But it wasn’t his words that hurt, was it? It was the thoughts beneath them.

"Bloody hell, she's gorgeous when she's angry."

You froze, the echo of those words still too fresh, too sharp.

But you couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t let anyone know as it would open a pandora’s box of undesirables you dared not explore outside the wee hours when your head feels like it might cave in on itself.

Legilimency was a curse. It was rare, dangerous, and feared. Wizards who had been caught using it had been cast out, exiled to live on the fringes of society. Families had been ruined, careers destroyed.

And worse - those who could read minds were feared. There were whispers about what those with the power could do with it. How easily they could manipulate people. Control them.

Or perhaps the articles and books you have read were just laying it on very thick, making a spectacle out of something that was out of what society considered ordinary but you couldn’t risk it.

As a Slytherin, it was in your nature to always preserve yourself. Your well-being came first, so every action is well thought-out for your benefit - including hiding your ability away in shame.

People don't take kindly to having their minds read, the mind is one very powerful thing - a vast vault of secrets. You could very well weaponize people’s thoughts and secrets against them.

You’d keep quiet. Keep pretending you didn’t know. Even if it gnawed at you from the inside. Even if every part of you screamed to just tell him, to confront him, to understand what the hell was going on in that arrogant Gryffindor head of his.

You swallowed hard, standing up and brushing your hands off on your robes. The weight of your secret settled like lead in your chest.

You’ll pretend. You’ll keep it secret. And maybe - just maybe - you’ll survive.

Because that is why the hat sorted you to wear green robes, because you were not the type to grab James Potter by his tie to confront him and demand some explanation for the things he thought about you.

You walked back toward the castle, the darkness wrapping around you like a cloak. The sound of your footsteps on the cobblestone echoed in the quiet night.

The cauldron before you is bubbling with that familiar greenish glow, steam rising like smoke. Your fingers are quick, precise - just the right amount of crushed powdered moonstone, stirred counterclockwise, steady, controlled.

James Potter is sitting across from you, as always, only this time he's making a show of it. His elbows are planted on the table, chin in his palm, eyes fixed on you. And that smug expression. The one that makes your insides twist.

"Look at her. She’s so - "

You shut the thought out. It is your absolute misfortune that he settled on sharing a table with you when the Professor demanded some inter-house collaboration for today’s class due to Dumbledore’s insistence.

It doesn’t matter. You have a potion to finish.

But, of course, James never misses an opportunity to make you hate him just a little bit more - if hate is truly what you have been feeling.

“You’re stealing looks at me, _____. Thinking of what unforgivable to use, eh?”

You barely hear the words, your mind too focused on the process in front of you. But you hear the tone. You always hear the tone. And that’s enough.

You don’t look up from your potion, but the words slide out of your mouth like a reflex, sharp as ever. “What’s your problem, Potter? Can’t keep your mouth shut for one class?”

The words are meant to sting, meant to remind him that this rivalry isn’t just one-sided. But as you snap at him, the air thick with the tension of old wounds, your own mind is buzzing with something far worse.

"Merlin, she smells amazing."

The thought - completely out of nowhere slams into your mind like a train. Your hands falter for a second, a stray drop of essence splashing over the edge of your cauldron. You curse under your breath.

But that’s nothing compared to the way your heart jumps in your chest.

"Stop thinking about her like that, Potter. Just focus."

It’s like his voice is in your head - no, not just his voice. It’s his thoughts. His internal struggle, raw and unfiltered. And it’s all about you, as if all the time spent learning at Hogwarts were useless when all he could think about was you, you, you.

You almost choke. Almost spill the entire potion.

But you don’t. You manage to keep your face cool, eyes fixed on your cauldron. You won’t let him see the effect he’s having on you.

James doesn’t see the way you flinch, the way you want to scream and laugh all at once. He doesn’t know that you can hear every stupid, misguided thought racing through his head.

He’s still talking, probably making fun of you, probably insulting your potion-making technique. But inside, it’s all just a blur of "please don’t notice", how good you smell and "how is she this good at everything?"

You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep pretending you hate him, when his equally-annoying voice spouted compliments and confessions in your head. Like he was right by your ear screaming them.

But you have to. Because you know. You know what he’s thinking. What he really thinks about you. And it’s driving you mad - as much as he is driving himself mad.

"She’s making it look so easy. Stop it, James."

You don’t flinch this time. You just keep your hands steady, your face calm, pretending like none of it’s happening. Pretending like the weight of his thoughts isn’t burning through your skin, making you want to dunk your head into the boiling cauldron.

It’s maddening. And you’re beginning to wonder how much longer you can keep pretending you don’t know.

The Quidditch pitch was alive with energy, the roar of the crowd drowning out all other sounds. Gryffindor versus Slytherin - the match everyone was waiting for, one that had your Quidditch captain on everyone’s rears all semester.

The teams soared high, the Quaffle exchanged between players as they raced towards the goalposts. It was fast, furious, and wildly competitive.

You gripped your broom tightly, eyes locked on the Quaffle as you swerved past a Bludger. You were focused, focused enough that you could almost tune out everything else - everything, except for him.

Merlin, despite the heat and chaos of the match, you could still hear him through them with how absolutely loud he was as if he was projecting his thoughts to you on purpose.

James Potter, the Gryffindor starchaser, was on the opposite team. The moment you locked eyes, he flashed that insufferable grin, like he’d already won. He was always cocky, always loud. But this time, it felt different. There was something in the way he was watching you.

"Watch out, snake!" he shouted, a taunt just loud enough for everyone to hear as you flew past him.

You didn't flinch, too used to the hostility. Instead, you focused on the Quaffle, your eyes scanning for an opening. You threw it, perfect precision, straight through the left hoop. Score. The crowd erupted into cheers, but the sound felt distant compared to the pounding in your ears.

But there it was again. His voice. Not in the air, but inside your head.

"She’s so good at this. Bloody hell, how does she do that?" James’ thoughts interrupted everything, like a crashing wave. "She moves like - like she was born to fly. Makes me want to just - "

You clenched your jaw, trying to force the thoughts out of your head. This was bad. So bad. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t block out the next wave of thoughts that flooded your mind.

"I want to snog her senseless."

It hit you like a jolt to the chest. You had to swallow the sudden rush of heat in your throat. You didn’t dare look at him, not with the intensity of what was going on in his head.

The game was still raging on, but your focus was slipping. You were just trying to keep it together, trying to pretend this was normal - that it didn’t matter that James Potter, the James Potter, was thinking about you like that.

He wasn’t just mocking you any more. His admiration was clear, cutting through every insult and joke. It made everything ultimately worse.

You caught another pass - biting the insides of your cheeks, dodging a Bludger, and went for another shot. But now it wasn’t just about the game. It wasn’t about scoring or winning.

It was about trying to control your emotions - when everything in you wanted to break the rules. To reach out. To tell him what you were hearing.

But you couldn’t.

Because the last thing you needed was for him to find out just how much you felt the same.

You were unsure how to process the realization that not only is James Potter besotted with you, but you liked him back. You, the Slytherin chaser who he exchanged insults with on a daily every Potions class was just as besotted.

It is truly a doomed plot written out for some sick god’s entertainment watching you run around like a headless Hippogriff.

So here you are, ending up yet again in the black lake during wee hours, escaping the castle undetected yet again. It is the only place that could truly calm you down when even your own ehad gets too loud.

Unbeknownst to you was the Gryffindor hiding under an invisibility cloak, watching you. His eyes studied your face that seemed much more softer in the dead of night, how all the frown left you and all that remained was your features all bare.

He felt the strong urge to reach out, but that would reveal the fact he followed you. He noticed you leaving the castle on the map, and out of concern snuck out to follow you under the cloak. He knew the dangers outside the castle walls, he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

He did not expect to invade your privacy as you looked out into the lake like a person who had the entire weight of the world. He wonders just what could be going on inside your mind, wishing he could peer into it and maybe, maybe he could take some of that weight off.

He gripped his wand, feeling defeated. 

He can’t even let you know how much he worries about you, how much he wonders about you - because that would be confronting the fact he has fallen for the enemy. That he would be going against his beliefs.

James Potter is an idiot. And he wanted nothing more than to snog you but instead he always resorts to insults, failing to do right by the bravery prided by his house.

You couldn’t hear his thoughts under the cloak, so you remained unaware of the boy watching you with so much love in his eyes that you were two hopeless idiots dancing around it.

“Merlin,” you breathed out exasperatedly. James Potter is not someone to lose sleep over, you knew that much should be true but nothing is working. No essay on Ancient Runes could distract you enough.

The school year was nearing its end. Despite yourself, you still managed to dodge out of confronting your feelings for one annoyingly-persistent Gryffindor and made it through passing your N.E.W.T.s with flying colours.

You had a decent set of “O” and “E” from your results, not getting anything less than Exceeding Expectations. Your parents are satisfied, not that you have ever failed them. Being a Slytherin is basically being bred for perfection.

Your academics and pureblood duties were already weighing on you but then - 

“Oi, snake!” right.

James Potter is that one itch you can’t quite scratch enough to get rid of. A very handsome itch with a perfect set of teeth, that is. 

“Sod off, Potter,” you roll your eyes as if following a perfected script by now, “I have better shit to do than deal with your childish antics.”

He frowned, something about the way you said it alerted him. There was no bite from that, all he heard was the exhaust from your voice as if you had forced those words out of you. He wanted to ask if you were okay, he thought it.

Before he could ask, you already gave an answer.

“I’m bloody fine,” you scoff. “Since when did you care?”

His frown deepened, impossibly so. He hadn’t asked it yet. You heard his confused pool of thoughts and your mistake began to dawn on you, you look at him, panicked and backed away before he could get another word out.

He must have called out your name, you weren’t sure. So you just made a run for it to avoid whatever he was about to say. 

He ran after you, not bothering to entertain Sirius’ confused inquiry as he watched his best mate chase after a Slytherin. He didn’t think it was anything James needed backup with so he only watched, nudging Remus next to him who also watched.

“What do you think that’s about?” Sirius asked, face unreadable.

Remus let out an amused chuckle. “That, mate, is young love blossoming.”

Sirius gagged, which was the reaction Remus anticipated, wording his phrase that way. “Prongs and that snake?”

“Blimey, you are bloody clueless.”

James had managed to catch up to you before you could turn and see the dungeons common room. Grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you back so you could face him, he called out your name again but your heart was too loud.

“Can you stop running away?” he asked, barely raising his voice. “What’s wrong?”

You turn at him, glaring. Tugging at your wrist to free it but he was not letting you go, you let out an exhausted groan and you only paused when a look of worry painted itself over his features as he watch you struggle out of his grasp.

“____?” he called out, his voice impossibly soft when saying your name that it almost made your knees buckle.

You blink at me. “Say you hate me,” you tell him and you wanted so badly for it to also be echoed in his head.

“What?” he couldn’t explain your actions and it was worrying him beyond belief. You could almost feel your eye twitch at him.

“Say you hate me,” you tug at your wrist, “and mean it, Potter. Fucking say you hate my guts, and also think it in that thick skull of yours.”

“Merlin, ____,” James sounded desperate. “What is going on with you? Lost your wits after N.E.W.T.s?”

You felt unbelievably angry at this moment but it was more directed at yourself than him. Though he thought it was aimed at him, so he threaded carefully. Slowly letting go of your wrist and it dropped limply at your side.

“Yeah, Potter, totally went nuts after the exams so I’m demanding you express your hatred for me,” you remark sarcastically, he did not appreciate it one bit. “Just say it.”

“No,” James replied right away sternly. “You are losing it.”

“How can I not?” You point angrily at him.

“____ - “

“You say one thing and you think another,” there was no going back now as the tears welled up in your eyes, all his confusion left him and all that was left was worry. “I can hear you, your thoughts.”

All the words he knew left him. Jaw slackened, he remained standing in front of you, unable to say anything. All this time, you heard him - how? That doesn’t really matter, his head is now replaying every thought he had of you.

Fucking hell.

Fucking mumbling, bloody hell.

“I didn’t mean to, I know it’s your privacy and I wasn’t going to - “ you cast your eyes down, afraid to see how disgusted he’d look when he realizes what you were confessing. “I couldn’t control it.”

James allowed a beat to pass, just a pregnant pause between you two as the hall remained empty, much to both of your delights. Then finally, he found his voice. He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack.

“You mean - you’ve heard all my thoughts about you.”

You managed to smile despite the tension, “Yes, including wanting to snog me senseless,” you saw the smile tug at his lips. You still refused to meet his eyes, “Your mind is very loud. I couldn’t shut it out even if I wanted to.”

James surprised you by what he did next - crossing the gap between you two which you had expected to keep growing until he was impossibly out of reach. Instead he closed in on you, capturing your lips in his and he did right by his words - 

You felt like he was stealing every breath away with how he kissed you like it could explain everything away. You kissed him back, finally allowing yourself to do one brave thing and confront your feelings instead of swallowing it all down.

His arm wrapped around your middle to pull you impossibly closer as he continued making your head lighter and lighter and only when you tapped in surrender did he pull away. You were heaving, breathless as you eyed him all bewildered.

“You -”

James Potter managed a smirk with swollen lips. “Snogged you senseless, didn’t I?”

“You twat.”

end. masterlist

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 1: Honey, Are U Coming?

SERIES SUMMARY: You’re Franco Colapinto’s best friend in the entire world, and you’ve agreed to accompany him along for the ride in his races with Williams. He finds it endearing how, per your therapist’s recommendation, you’ve started always bringing your diary everywhere you go, even the paddock. But when he crosses the line and turns the page, he never expected what’s inside… (Based on the song Read Your Diary by Måneskin).

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNINGS: therapy heavily mentioned, reader is emotionally constipated, use of YN, reader is a lil FREAK in later chapters (affectionate because we don’t kink shame here), eventual angst and smut

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Meet me there where it never closes

Meet me there where it’s never hopeless

All is fair in love, oh

Honey, are you coming?

If you had to blame anyone for this whole ordeal, it would be your therapist. After all, she was the one who had given you the idea to start journaling in the first place.

The session had, frustratingly, gone like all of the others; you’d tell her about something you thought was innocuous and she’d ask you how that made you feel, and you wouldn’t be able to answer. You could feel your feelings all day long, but when asked to explain them, the words never came out.

Maybe it was a fear of being misunderstood or judged for your feelings. Maybe it was the fact that no one had ever taught you what to do with that bundle of emotions that rested in your stomach like a ball of yarn to be unraveled, except to avoid it altogether and stuff it down. Or maybe you just know how you actually felt, deep down, and this was your mind’s way of making it known.

Whatever the case was, your therapist suggested, in addition to your usual sessions, of course, that you start a journal. “It’ll be for your eyes only,” she assured, “you don’t have to tell me a single word of what’s in it. Just write whatever comes to mind, no matter what that is, as long as you get it out.”

So you took her advice. Worst case scenario, you thought, you’d just stop after a week or two if it didn’t make it better. But you couldn’t help feeling a little immature, like a little girl hiding a diary, when you went to the airport shop and bought a small, unassuming leather journal at a heavily marked up price and stuffed it into the bottom of your carry on.

Your therapist had suggested customizing the journal as you write your way through it—making it a safe place for your feelings and words. But for now, this would have to do. Traveling this much recently had been difficult, and you didn’t want to add the journal into the mix of your already chaotic life for the past few weeks.

Of course, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. The recent chaos and jet setting around the world was all due to the hard work and incredible luck of your best friend, Franco. He had finally made it to Formula 1, even if just for the remainder of the season, and when he had excitedly run over to your apartment to tell you the news, you had practically crushed him to death with the enormous hug you gave him. Despite his rookie status, he had somehow managed to get you paddock passes, flights, and accommodations all arranged for each of the races so you could spend your next few months flying around the world and waltzing around the Williams paddock with your best friend in the entire world.

You and Franco had met when you were younger and he had just moved to Italy to pursue his racing career. He had moved in right next to your family, and it felt like you were instantly connected. You introduced him to the country and he introduced you to the world of racing, and your friendship was a match made in Heaven. When he went to Spain, you followed, and now with his entry into Formula 1, you were still tagging along for the ride.

Of course, Franco wanted you there just as much as you wanted to be there. At first you had been hesitant to do it. You didn’t want to impose, and to this day Franco refused to tell you what strings he had to pull to get you access to the paddock, let alone flights and accommodations. “Cmon, come with me,” he had pleaded. “Think of the stories we’ll be able to tell one day! Besides, I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else by my side.”

“Franco, you sound like the protagonist of a cheesy rom com,” you laughed. “Don’t you think this is all… too much?”

“The tickets or my audition for the next Hallmark movie?” he teased, eliciting a small laugh from you. “No, I’m serious, YN. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I want you there with me, for every part of it.” He paused and looked down at his shoes, as if choosing his next words carefully. It was unusual of him, to be so worried about saying the right thing instead of just saying something. The grid had caught on soon that Franco was a talker. He continued, “I understand if you can’t come to all of them. But at least come to a few. It won’t be the same without you.”

There was a heaviness to his words that made you the slightest bit uncomfortable. Like his request was something deeper than just wanting the support of a friend. “Since when have you gotten so sentimental?” you teased, cracking a smile to lighting the tension.

He smiled back, “Since I achieved my dreams.”

Your slight smile stretched ear to ear at the reminder of how monumental a moment this was for him, and you enveloped him in another hug. “Oh Franco, I’m so happy for you!” you exclaimed.

“Happy enough to come with me?” He asked as you all broke the hug.

You lightheartedly exhaled at his instance. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The smile on his face was electric. You just couldn’t say no to him, so that’s how you ended up here, unable to say no to the steep markup on your airport shop journal, waiting for your unfortunately delayed flight from Azerbaijan to Singapore.

Even at only 4 races in, you had gotten used to doing your remote work in airports, but trying to open this journal and pour your heart out onto the pages right next to traveling strangers was… difficult, to say the least. It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes that you stared at the blank page, but it felt like an eternity. You didn’t know what to write.

So you just began by writing how you felt physically. Tired. Nervous. Excited for Franco. Very excited for Franco.

This was supposed to be your journal, but as you got into the rhythm of filling page after page, the words were all about your best friend, the newest Formula 1 driver. You used to think that words couldn’t even describe how proud you were of him. You’d seen his hard work pay off with just a little bit of luck, and your heart seemed to swell into your chest when you thought of him in his Williams race suit ready to show the world what he could do. He’d gotten points in Baku, and you remembered your frantic heartbeat as you watched from the Williams garage and cheered in excitement at his performance. After the race he ran to you and you all practically crashed into each other going for a bear hug.

You had squeezed him with all your strength. “Franco, I’m so proud of you!”

He released you and smiled. It was a rare moment, seeing you this vulnerable. You were so happy that tears had formed at the edges of your eyes, and for a split second he looked at you and knew the true depth of those words. “So proud that you’re crying tears of joy?” he joked.

He had ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your raw emotion that you didn’t even notice the tears until he pointed them out, and your defenses kicked it as you replied, “I wasn’t crying.” Franco saw your walls go up again and cursed himself internally for talking without thinking, as he almost always did.

As you penned this memory, you felt all the emotions rushing back to you. That feeling of pride in your chest, the chaos of the garage, and Franco’s hands wrapped around you in a celebratory embrace—no, that made it sound weird. You looked down at the page. Why did that sound so… weird?

Once again, the moment had been ruined. Your flight was about to board anyway, so you exhaled and put the journal back in your bag, telling yourself you’d deal with that later. For now, you had a race to get to.

Singapore was humid and buzzing with life. Practices had gone well. On Saturday, you  hoped that the usual chaos of the paddock would distract you from your thoughts, but it was the opposite. The drone of noise—reporters talking, mechanics laughing, the purr of the car—all faded away, just background noise to your painful confusion.

Something was just…off. Before your flight you had written about your best friend and his first few races in F1. That was it. Then why did you feel like your skin was crawling every time you glanced at him on the other side of the garage? He had his headset on, talking to some race engineer about something you couldn’t even begin to understand. His gaze was so focused, his attention fully captured by the screen in front of him. He raised his hand to his mouth, thinking, before turning to the engineer and saying something.

You were enraptured by him. His passion was infectious, his determination admirable. Clad in his white race suit, he looked like he belonged here, like he had always belonged here. His hair gently curled over the top bar of his headset. His race engineer said something and Franco laughed, and again you noticed those little details that had become so usual to you; the way his eyes crinkled when he truly smiled, the scrunch of his nose, the blush that danced across his cheeks—whether from the warmth of the garage or the words of his engineer, you couldn’t tell.

Your observation (or, rather, staring) was interrupted by Franco’s gaze shifting from his engineer to you. He sent you a soft smile, and you gave him a weak one in return. You felt sick to your stomach as he politely excused himself from the conversation and made his way over to you.

“Hey YN, you good? You’ve been staring off into space for, like, five whole minutes.”

You brought your hands to rub your face, trying to bring some life into you. “Have I?”

“Yeah, thought you were checking me out or something.”

“Huh?” You felt a pang of anxiety at his insinuation.

“Well, I can’t help it that I’m so irresistible,” he replied with a smirk.

“Oh, Lord,” you laughed, exhaling in relief at his usual banter. “I just feel weird, but I’ll be okay.” You weren’t exactly lying.

The brow furrowed with concern. “You’re not feeling well? You want to go lay down for a bit?”

As much as you wanted to protest that you really were fine, the opportunity to get away for a few minutes felt like a godsend. You answered, “That’s sounds nice, actually.”

“Here, come with me,” he said as he gestured for you to follow him through the back of the garage and into the Williams motorhome.

You ended up in his driver’s room, a quiet haven away from the overwhelming chaos of the paddock. As you stepped inside it hit you just how awful you truly felt: your head was pounding, your stomach turning in flips, and your heart beating outside your chest. You practically slumped down onto the small couch, hunched over, covering your eyes with your arm to shield away the harsh fluorescent light.

You felt Franco settle beside you, breaking the silence with a soft, “You alright?” You just hummed in response, until you felt his hand meet your upper back, gently rubbing your shoulder blades as if his touch could smooth away your discomfort. But all it did was make it worse; you didn’t think your heart could beat any faster, and the turning of your stomach threatened to bring up your breakfast.

A knock at the door interrupted the moment. “Franco, need you at the media tent in five!”

Franco grumbled a reply that he’d be right there. Then he turned back to you, “You want to go back to the hotel? I can have someone take you.”

“No, I’ll be okay. I don’t want to miss qualifying.”

“YN, you look horrible.”

You laughed. “Thanks for the confidence boost.”

“No, I just… you don’t have to be there if you’re not feeling well, it’s okay.” Franco knew how stubborn you were. Never the type to admit any weakness, you could be on your death bed and still make it to the paddock to watch him race.

“No, really, I’m fine. Just give me a few minutes…”

He huffed, knowing it was no use arguing with you. He kneeled down to where you head was laid against the small table next to the couch, looking in your eyes. “Shit, YN, you’re

shivering—I’ve got a hoodie around here somewhere…” he began rummaging through his locker when another knock came at the door.

“Franco, media tent, NOW,” said the clearly agitated voice behind the door.

“Yeah, coming!” he replied.

He looked back nervous scratched the back of his neck, unsure of how far to push.

“I’ve got to go. Grab a hoodie and warm up, and if you feel any worse you come straight back here or I’ll end you,” he said, in an attempt to lighten the concern he felt for his best friend who sat before him, looking like a zombie.

“Understood,” you said, giving him a weak thumbs up.

He left the room and you sat there alone, taking deep breaths in an attempt to bring yourself back down to earth. You had truly believed it when you told Franco that you thought a few minutes in the quiet would fix you up, but your thoughts just kept racing, and your body reacted with it. The gentle comforting touch of his hand on your back left you spinning. It didn’t make sense—you two had been friends so long, the touch was nothing unusual. Just a friendly gesture. Then why did it feel like your skin was on fire?

Franco had been right, you were shivering, and to distract yourself from your thoughts you heeded his advice to find a hoodie to wear. You stepped over to the locker and found the one he brought—one purchased for him by one of his ex girlfriends, some blonde model who was nice enough but clearly wanted nothing to do with you. You didn’t blame her; you were nothing special, and your company paled in comparison to the excitements of dating a race car driver. Or at least, you assumed. It’s not like you’d ever date Franco.

Wait, what were you thinking? Dating Franco. The thought should bring disgust to your mouth. It did. Sort of. You weren’t shivering any more.

You put the hoodie back in the closet and took a deep breath. You decided to take the time between now and qualifying to see if writing in the journal could make you feel a little better. But when you opened the pages again, you just found what you had written last time and your feelings stuck.

You remembered a tactic your therapist taught you: sometimes your feelings can manifest physically. To calm down, ground yourself in your surroundings. Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, one thing you can taste. You brought your pen to paper.

I can see: The hoodie that Franco’s ex gave him. It’s crumpled in the corner of his locker. He wears it a lot, and it makes me wonder if he misses her. I don’t ask him stuff like that. That would be weird.

I can touch: The smooth plastic of the VIP pass around my neck. Franco refuses to tell me how he got it. I can’t believe he’d go through all this for me.

I can hear: The quiet silence of the room. Feet shuffling outside the door. Does anyone know I’m in here, hidden away like a secret? Did Franco tell anyone about me—about us? What even is us—why would he tell the paddock about a friend?

I can smell: Franco’s cologne, everywhere. It smells familiar, like home and a warm hug.

I can taste: the bitter taste of the maté I had this morning. Franco put me on to it when we were younger.

You went back and read through everything you’d written, seeing how many times his name came up—Franco, Franco, Franco.

And so you wrote it again. Franco, Franco, Franco. God, I feel like a little girl having a crush on the boy who sits next to her in class.

Wait. A crush? No, you were too old for that. That’s ridiculous. But reading the words you had written over and over and over again—what else could it be?

Of course I love Franco. He’s my best friend.

Reading and writing seemed to blur. Yes, you loved Franco. So you wrote it again.

I love Franco Colapinto.

Finally, you stopped. Your headache, stomach pain, and that stubborn heartbeat had all faded to calmness. You read it, no, wrote it, no—did it even matter anymore?

I love Franco Colapinto.

No. You scribbled it out and closed the diary. No, no, no no no no no.

You checked your phone. It was almost time for quali. You threw the journal to the bottom of your bag, took a deep breath, and made your way back out to the Williams garage.

On the way there you ran into a familiar face—Franco’s mother. You had heard she would be here for the weekend, but you hadn’t run into her yet, with everything going on. Upon seeing you her face lit up in a smile. “YN! Franquito just sent me to check on you, said you were feeling well?”

You cringed a bit internally at her knowing your situation, but smiled anyway. “Oh, I was, but I’m doing okay now. Ready for quali.”

So the two of you made your way back to the garage, making idle chat about your lives back at your respective homes outside of Franco. The more you all talked, though, the more it became apparent that both of your lives seemed to revolve around him; but it made sense for his mother, of course, even if he didn’t live in Argentina anymore. But you? You couldn’t shake the feeling that your connection to Franco was deeper and more problematic than ever now. His mother’s voice faded into the background sounds of the garage as your mind returned again to again to the words you had written: I love Franco Colapinto. It felt so childish, like it belonged in a pink diary, written in a glittering gel pen, surrounded by little hearts. It made you sick to your stomach.

“You know, YN,” his mother said, breaking you from your spiraling thoughts, “I’m so glad he has you. I was so worried when he left home, but when you all met it helped me sleep better at night knowing someone was looking out for him. And look where we are now! Oh, I’m so proud of him.”

“I am too,” you smiled, somewhat pained but still genuine.

She laughed, “Now I just keep telling him he needs to find a girl like you! Stay away from all those actresses and models, they’re always trouble.”

You laughed in response, though your heart skipped a beat. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll find a good one. But I think he’s more focused on the racing.”

“Well, I hope so,” she replied, a hint of lighthearted criticism in her voice.

The conversation came to a natural end with qualifying about to start any second. Franco, suited up and putting on his helmet, glanced to you and his mother behind the barriers, throwing you a wink before stepping in the car. You rolled your eyes. Everyone who had ever met Franco knew how much of a flirt he was, it was just part of his personality. It had never bothered you before. But to be the girl he was flirting with? To have it mean something? That was something else entirely, something you’d stuffed deep down. You told yourself it meant nothing, because it didn’t. Franco was just…like that. He was just your friend. Nothing more.

Franco had a respectable qualifying—P12—and the rest of the day went by as usual before your dinner plans with him, his mother, and the rest of the Williams team. It was awkward at first. You were sat by Franco and his mother on one side, who were talking to each other in Spanish, far away mentally from the dinner; and on the other was Alex Albon's girlfriend, Lily. Thankfully, Lily seemed very kind and made conversation.

“Oh hi, YN isn’t it? I’ve been meaning to say hello! I’m Lily, it’s nice to meet you, welcome to the wag club,” she joked.

“The wag club?” You were confused, was this some motorsports term you’d never heard of?

“Oh, you know, wives and girlfriends. The fans just call us wags,” she smiled. You were grateful that at least one person's girlfriend was kind to you. But her assumption brought a blush to your cheeks.

“Oh, I’m not—“

Lily wasn’t quite paying attention, or maybe you were too quiet compared to the busy atmosphere of the restaurant. “You know, it’s really great to have you here, you and Franco are so cute! It’s a shame what happened with Logan, but on the bright side so get to make new friends. I can introduce you to the rest of the girls too, it’s hard being in a garage full of guys so we have to stick together, you know.”

You cut her off, unable to handle her mistake any longer. “Oh, uh, I’m not… Franco’s girlfriend. We’re just friends.” 

Lily paused for a moment. “Oh! Um… sorry about that.” She nervously laughed. “I just thought, you know, since you’ve been at all his races so far…”

“Oh yeah, I’m not sure how, but he got me paddock passes for the rest of the season. I mean, once in a lifetime opportunity, right?”

“Yeah, that’s… I mean, wow. Alex can’t even get me that many passes.” Lily left the implication of her comment unsaid. Franco had gone above and beyond—he wanted you here more than anything. “Well, anyway, I’m sure the girls would still love to meet you!” she smiled. 

It was nice to have a friend other than Franco in the paddock. You passed the dinner telling funny stories back and forth about Franco and Alex’s embarrassing karting moments. The Williams team was beginning to feel like family.

Back in your hotel room, the chaos of the day faded away into a calm silence. You opened your journal and wrote about everything that had happened since you had left his drivers room. Again and again you returned to that sentence, now scratched out, but finally, you had to accept what you had so long avoided, what everyone around you could see plainly.

So you took your pen and wrote one last sentence of the night:

I am in love with my best friend, Franco Colapinto. 

[lee-laurent]

Playing House - Luke Hughes

Summary: Tori makes the decision to introduce Riley to Luke

content: angst, some fluff, arguing, kissing, money issues

wc: 2.5k

notes: here it is! as requested by one of my anons :)) this is part 5 of the done trying series! here we goooo

Tori woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing repeatedly on the bedside table. She groaned, reaching out to silence it, but the name on the screen made her sit up immediately.

John Marino.

"Hello? Is everything okay?"

"Hey, Tori. Sorry to call you so early. Riley wanted to talk to you."

Her heart melted at the sound of her son's voice. "Mama! Hi!"

"Hi, baby! Are you having fun with Dada, Nanny, and Pop?"

"Yes! We has pancakes!"

"That sounds so yummy! Are you being a good boy?"

"Uh-huh. Miss 'oo, Mama!"

"I miss you too, Ri-Ri! I'll see you super soon though, okay?"

"O-tay! 'Uv 'oo!"

"Love you too, Riley. Be good for Dada."

She heard John take the phone back. "He just wanted to say hi. I'll bring back tomorrow morning, as planned."

"Right. Thanks, Johnny. See you then."

As she hung up, she felt Luke stir beside her. He blinked a few times, then smiled sleepily. "G'morning."

"Morning, Lu," she replied, leaning in to kiss him. "Riley called. He misses me."

"Of course he does. Who wouldn't?" he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "So, what's the plan today?"

"I was thinking we could relax for a bit, then maybe go for a walk? Show you around the neighbourhood."

"Sounds perfect," he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep. "But first, more cuddles."

Tori laughed, snuggling into his chest. "Deal."

Later that morning, they were walking hand in hand through the park near Tori's apartment. The sun was shining, and the air was warm- the perfect day to be outside. The found a spot near the small pond, enjoying the peacefulness.

"I love this place," Luke said, looking around. "It's nice and calm. Feels like we're not even in the city at all. Miles away from everything."

"It's been my little escape since we moved here. Riley loves it too. He calls it the 'duck park' 'cause of all the ducks, which unfortunately sounds like 'fuck park' when he says it, but we move."

Luke laughed. "I can't wait to meet him properly. I hope he likes me."

"He will," Tori assured, squeezing his hand. "You're great with kids. I've seen how patient and kind you are with all the kids that come to fan events."

"I guess. But this... this is different. This is your son. I like need to make a good impression."

"You will, Lu. Trust me."

The rest of their day was spent adventuring. They walked around the neighbourhood, talking about everything and nothing. By they time they arrived back at Tori's apartment, they were both beyond tired.

As they settled onto the couch to watch a movie, Tori's phone buzzed again. This time a text from John instead of a call.

Can we talk tomorrow when I drop off Riley?

Tori sighed, "Looks like John wants to talk tomorrow. Probably about you."

Luke nodded, "Figures. But we'll deal with it... together."

"Together," she grinned. Luke chuckled, pressing a loving kiss to her cheek. She shook her head, pulling him in for a proper kiss.

"Together."

Tori was a bundle of nerves the next morning. She busied herself by tidying up the apartment, acting like her two-year-old would notice whether or not the place was clean. Luke tried to reassure her multiple times, even trying to pull her back into bed, but she could clearly see the tension in his eyes too.

"I- Luke I think I should talk with John alone to start. I know him... and he'd just get angrier if you were there."

"But I want to help you, Vic. I wanna be there to back you up."

"I know, babe. But... just trust me on this one."

"Fine. But if he raises his voice, even just a little, I'm coming in to beat his ass."

Finally, there was a knock at her door. Tori opened it to find Johns standing there with Riley. She felt a knot form in her stomach as John stepped into the apartment, his expression grim. Riley was already distracted, happily playing with his toys in the living room, , with Luke sitting nearby, making car noises to match Riley’s play. She took a deep breath and led John into the kitchen, bracing herself for the confrontation she knew was coming.

"What's this about you introducing Luke to Riley?" John started, his voice low but edged with anger.

Tori crossed her arms, trying to keep her composure. "John, Luke is an important part of my life now. Riley needs to know who he is. Slowly. We'll take it slowly."

"An important part of you life?" John scoffed. "You've barely even been together. He's just another hockey player. He'll probably just break your heart. You really think that's a good idea for Riley? For our son?"

"It's not about him being a hockey player. You know I'm not a puck bunny, John," Tori shot back, her frustration showing. "It's about him being someone else who cares about me and in extension cares about Riley. Someone who wants to be there for us."

In the living room, Luke was playing with Riley, making sure the little boy was entertained. He could hear the heated conversation in the kitchen and felt a pang of concern. He wanted to support Tori, to show John that he genuinely cared for Riley, but he respected Tori's wish to handle it herself.

"Hey, buddy, wanna race cars?" Luke asked Riley, trying to keep his focus on the child.

Riley giggled, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes! Vroom! Vroom!"

John shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides. "You barely known him! Wh- what if he leaves you?"

Tori's eyes narrowed. "You don't get to judge my decisions, John. I'm careful, I don't let just anyone in like this. Luke isn't like other people. He cares about me. And he wants to care about Riley too."

"And you think that's enough?" John challenged. "Does he have what it takes to be a dad? You think just because he says he cares, it's okay to bring him into my son's life? What if Riley gets attached and then Luke leaves? Huh? What if Riley gets hurt?"

"Riley deserves to have people in his life that love him. And Luke wants to do that. He wants to be there for Riley, to be a positive influence."

John sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I don't want Riley to get hurt, Tori. He's already been through so much."

"I know," Tori replied gently. "But keeping him away from people isn't the answer. Luke isn't trying to replace you, John. You'll always be his dad. He's just trying to be there for Riley, to be a friend."

Luke turned to Riley, who was now making his toy car zoom circles around the coffee table.

"You're doing great, Riley!"

Luke looked back to the kitchen, then at Riley, weighing the situation. He took a deep breath and called out, "Tori, maybe I should talk to John too."

Tori turned her head to Luke, her eyes softening. "I appreciate it, Luke, but this is conversation that we need to have alone."

John also glanced towards the living room, his expression hardening at the sight of his son playing with Luke. "If he has something to say, he should say it now."

Tori reached out, placing a comforting hand on John's arm. "John, please. Let's just talk, okay? Don't... don't worry about Luke right now."

They stood in silence for a moment, the tension slowly easing. Finally, John nodded, though he still looked conflicted. "Okay, fine. But if he ever hurts Riley, Tori, I won't forgive him. Or you."

"He won't. I promise."

John sighed again, the fight leaving him. "Okay. I will try to be civil."

"Thank you," Tori smiled. "For Riley's sake."

John nodded, heading towards the door. "Bye, Riley. Dada will see you later. You have fun with Mama and Luke."

"Bye, Dada! 'Uv 'oo!"

"I love you too, baby."

After John left, the atmosphere in the apartment lightened. Luke continued to play with Riley, who was still a bit hesitant but seemed to overall enjoy Luke's company. Tori watched them for a moment, her heart filling with love and affection for both her son and Luke.

"Hey, Riley, do you wanna show Luke your favourite car?" Tori suggest, kneeling next to her son.

Riley looked up at his mom and then back at Luke, his small fingers fidgeting with a toy car. He seemed unsure, glancing between the two, seeking reassurance from his mom.

"It's okay, bud," Luke said softly, smiling at the toddler. "I'd love to see your favourite car."

Riley slowly reached out, handing Luke a small fire truck. "Dis one," he murmured, still clinging to Tori's side.

"Wow, this is a really cool fire truck!" Luke said, examining it with genuine interest. "Does it make sounds?"

Riley nodded, pressing a button that made the fire truck's siren wail. He glanced up at Luke to see his reaction.

"That's awesome!" Luke exclaimed, his enthusiasm making Riley smile.

Encouraged by Riley's reaction, Tori suggest they go to the park. "How about we take your fire truck to the park, Ri-Ri? We can play on the playground and look at the ducks."

"Yes!" They all put their shoes and headed out, Riley clutching his fire truck tightly.

At the park, Riley stayed close to Tori at first, his eyes wide as he observed the other children playing. Luke sat down on the grass, setting up a small area with Riley's toys.

"Riley, look! We can drive your fire truck on this road," Luke grinned, drawing a pretend road in the dirt with a stuck.

Riley watched for a moment, inching closer, intrigued by the game. He glanced at Tori, who nodded encouragingly.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Go play with Luke."

Riley finally sat next to the boy, still a bit tentative but clearly interested. He placed his fire truck down and together they drove it along the makeshift road, adding little sound effects and making up stories about rescues.

As they played, Riley's shyness began to fade. He started to laugh more, his small voice growing more confident as he directed the fire truck and explained a story to Luke. Tori watched on with a smile, feeling an immense sense of relief.

After some time at the park, they headed back home for lunch. Tori prepared sandwiches while Luke and Riley played with more toys in the living room. Riley was now fully engaged, laughing as Luke pretended to be a new character in their game.

"Mama, 'ook! 'uke is dino!" He exclaimed, pointing at Luke, who was stomping around and making growling noises.

Tori laughed, setting the plate of sandwiches on the table. "That's awesome, Ri! Let's eat lunch, and then we can play some more."

The next few hours were spent playing, completely skipping over Riley's afternoon nap completely. He was too busy playing with Luke.

Dinner time was always an adventure with Riley. As they sat around the small kitchen table, Tori served up plates of spaghetti, Riley's favourite food after mac and cheese. Luke took a seat next to Riley, who was already eagerly stabbing at the noodles with his little plastic fork.

"'Ook, 'uke! I do it all mine-self." Riley exclaimed, proudly showing off his newfound skill.

Luke watched with an amused smile as Riley attempted to twist the spaghetti onto his fork, only to have most of it slip back onto his plate. Undettered, Riley tried again, managing to get a very small clump of noodles into his mouth.

"Great job, buddy!" Luke praised, genuinely impressed by Riley's determination.

Riley beamed, his face lighting up with joy. "Tank 'oo! Mama show me."

"You're doing great, Ri-Ri. But remember to take small bites," Tori added.

As dinner continued, Riley's enthusiasm led to more spaghetti ending up on the table and his high chair than in his mouth. He giggled as a particularly long noodle dangled from his chin.

Luke couldn't help but laugh. "You're making quite the mess, little man," he said, reaching over to wipe a bit of sauce off Riley's cheek.

"'Ghetti is fun! 'Ook, 'uke!"

With that, Riley took another forkful of noodles and lifted it high, causing several noodles to fall on the table. He giggled, kicking his feet, waiting for Luke's reaction.

"Whoa, that's some impressive skill. You might need to teach me how to do that."

Tori shook her head in mock exasperation. "You two are a pair," she said fondly. "But let's try to keep some of the food on the plate, okay?"

Riley nodded, his face serious as he tried to be more careful. Despite the mess, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and laughter. Luke felt like he belonged, enjoying the simple moment with his girlfriend and her son.

After dinner, they all moved to the living room for some relaxation. Tori flipped through their apps on the TV before settling on "Paw Patrol," one of Riley's favourites.

"Patrol!" Riley cheered, clapping his hands as he snuggled into Tori's lap.

Luke sat beside them, throwing his arm over Tori's shoulder. "I've heard a lot about these puppies. Which one is your favourite?"

"What his name, Mama?"

"Marshall, bubba."

"Dat one!" Riley pointed at the screen where the fire pup was making a daring rescue with his friends.

"That's a good choice, bud," Luke nodded, making a mental note to research the rest of the characters in the show.

As the episode played, Riley's eyes remained glued to the screen, occasionally glancing up at Tori and Luke with a large green. Luke couldn't help but feel his heart swell at the sight. The little boy was growing on him, and quickly.

After the episode ended, Tori stood up and stretched. "Alright, Ri-Ri. Bathtime."

Riley pouted, but slid off the couch. "O-tay, Mama."

Luke followed them, watching as Tori began filling the tub with warm water, adding a generous amount of bubble bath.

"Need any help?" Luke asked.

"Sure," Tori laughed, handing him a cup. "You can rinse his hair."

Riley splashed happily, creating mountains of bubbles. Luke carefully poured water over Riley's head, using his hand to shield the boy's eyes.

"You've got this down, buddy," Luke said, impressed by how easy the toddler was being.

"Tank 'oo, 'uke! Bubbles are mine favourite!"

"Mine too."

Once Riley was clean and wrapped in a fluffy towel, they all headed to Tori's bedroom for storytime. Riley picked out a book he loved to read over and over again, "Goodnight Moon." He climbed onto the bed, snuggling between Tori and Luke.

Tori began reading, her voice soft and soothing. Riley leaned against her, his eyes growing heavy. Luke listened intently, feeling a sense of peace wash over him.

"Night-night, Mama. Night-night, 'uke," Riley murmured, already drifting off to sleep.

Luke picked him up, carrying him down the hall to his room. Once he was settled in his crib, they closed the door quietly behind them. Tori turned to Luke, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you for helping me tonight. It means a lot to me. And to Riley too."

Luke wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "It was my pleasure, V. I loved every minute of it."

Together, they made their way back to the living room, ready to enjoy the rest of their evening, knowing they were building something special not just for themselves but for Riley too.

Victoria prayed it would stay that way...

[loveharlow]

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[5.9k] Trying to lay-low in Kildare doesn't go over too well and just when things were looking up, it all comes crumbling down.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, gun violence, mild animal cruelty, general angst

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

NOW PLAYING‧₊

IT TOOK ALMOST ALL NIGHT TO SAIL BACK TO KILDARE, the sun just rising once again when the six of you arrived at the edge of The Marsh at the crack of dawn. You were tired and starving, the guys and girls splitting off into two separate groups to go look for food.

You, Kie, and Sarah had found some watermelons just as the sun’s heat started to break through the Kildare clouds. You and Sarah were sitting in the grass while Kie took up the space on a metal bench, each of you munching on your respective melons, fingers stained pink.

Kiara was quick to urge Sarah to catch her up on what happened, the blonde girl spilling every detail about what happened from the moment John B and her disappeared.

“The boat tipped and I honestly thought that was it, I thought that was the end. Next thing I know, we’re waking up on a boat headed to The Bahamas…” She recounted. She told you everything, from finding the gold again at Ward’s vacation home to getting shot by Rafe, to…

“I’m sorry, you got married?” Kiara exclaimed, her eyes wide as her hand paused from where it was digging into the fruit. Sarah just had a sheepish smile on her face, chewing as she nodded.

“It’s not exactly legal, but…” She trailed off, throwing a chunk of the melon into her mouth and looking at both of you. “Yeah, we did.” She admitted, smiling and chuckling in Kie’s direction before she seemed to conjure up another thought. “And *gulp* Am I crazy, or is there something going on between you and Pope?” She spoke, mouth full of watermelon.

Kiara smiled and shrugged, avoiding eye contact with the Cameron girl. “Maybe...” She said, squinting her eyes as she looked out in front of her. “I’ve come to a couple of…realizations, recently, I guess.” She said under her breath, eyes peering at you for the shortest of moments, so swiftly that Sarah didn’t catch it and you barely did yourself.

“That’s not a no.” Sarah egged on, still eating. The three of you fell into silence for a few passing moments, the only sounds being the birds flying by and the chewing of fruit before Sarah spoke up once more, this time her questions aimed at you. “You okay? You’ve been kinda quiet.” She asked, her wide eyes peering at you.

You just shrugged, looking down at your lap as you spoke. “‘M fine. It’s all just a little surreal, y’know? Up until a couple of hours ago, I really thought you and John B were dead.” You said, building the courage to meet her eyes. “It’s honestly the biggest blessing that you guys aren’t but... a lot happened while you two were away. That’s all.” You assured her, sending her a tight-lipped smile and returning to eating.

“...It was really hard to find a a way to contact you guys. And we didn’t want to risk someone tipping off my dad or the police just yet. It’s gonna be a shit show when we get back to the island, that’s for sure.” Sarah scoffed, raking her fingers through her hair.

“...Sarah?” You piped up, the girl humming response. “It’s good to have you back.”

She smiled happily in response, her teeth showing as her cheeks reddened. “It’s good to be back.”

JOHN B DOCKED THE DRUTHERS TOO AT THE CHATEAU WITH LITTLE HESITATION, A familiar bundle of golden fur running towards him and jumping on him the second he was off the boat. 

“Woah, hey, hey…” He cooed, petting Marley softly as she pawed at his thighs and torso.

“Sorry about that,” You said, shielding your eyes from the sun. “We’ve been crashin’ here since…” You trailed off, shrugging as John B looked up at The Chateau, jutting his bottom lip out and shrugging one shoulder.

“The place looks great, actually.” He said, directing his gaze to the grass, looking side to side. “The weeds are gone and there aren’t any beer cans in the grass.” He laughed out.

“That would be courtesy of me.” JJ bowed dramatically. “Mowed the lawn and threw in a little extra service.” John B rolled his eyes playfully and walked towards the entrance of the home, the five of you following behind him. 

“Not to bring the mood down or anything but I’m not exactly looking forward to a check-in at home…” Kiara announced, walking at the very back of the group. “My parents have probably already arranged my funeral.”

“Same. I predict unpleasantries at the Heyward household after I left the truck in Charleston.” Pope cringed at the thought, holding the straps of his backpack. 

“...No one knows we’re here, right?” JJ threw out, deep in thought judging from the look on his face. “And you two-” He pointed at Kiara and Pope. “-aren’t gonna get in anymore trouble for showing up twelve hours later. Am I right or am I right?”

“You’re not wrong…” Pope seemed to contemplate.

“So that means we have twelve hours to do whatever we want.” JJ smiled, clapping his hands together. “A little pogue fellowship, how does that sound? Let the shit hit the fan tomorrow.”

“The cops are looking for us. It just seems really stupid…” Sarah reminded, a look of worry on her features.

“Sarah Cameron,” JJ approached the girl sitting on the rail of The Chateau stairs. “You’ve heard of my philosophy, right?”

“No.”

“Stupid things have good outcomes all the time.” JJ spoke as you and John B mocked him, sending a smile in each other’s direction as you tried not to laugh. The blonde boy turned around, clapping his hands. “Who’s with me? Let’s go get some beer!”

KIARA HAD MANAGED TO STEAL SOME BEERS FROM THE WRECK, SEEMINGLY WITHOUT BEING NOTICED. By the time Sarah and JB had showered and JJ and Pope set up the lights and hot-tub, the sun had fallen again. The pit in your stomach had started to settle, allowing you to actually enjoy the fact that your friends were alive and well and back where they belonged. Although other events were still swirling in your mind and dampening your mood, you wouldn’t let it show.

The six of you crowded the hot-tub, shotgunning beers as music played faintly from a speaker plugged in near the porch. JJ and John B had some impromptu dance battle while Pope started freestyling out of nowhere, the remaining three of you watching it all like a comedy show from the comfort of the hot tub.

At some point , JJ rolled a joint that made it’s way through the group in record time. You currently had the object clutched between your fingers, laying on your back in the grass near the oak tree with Marley next to you as JJ and Pope wrestled in the grass. 

“Single-leg sweep!” John B cheered, watching Pope pin JJ to the ground — JB, Sarah, and Kie sitting and watching around a bonfire. 

Pope got up triumphantly, hands in the air as JJ got up and dusted himself off. He and JJ shook hands with lazy smiles on their faces before Pope snatched up his beach towel and turned around in the direction of The Marsh. “I’m done!” He called over his shoulder. “I’m outta here…”

“You want a round two?” JJ called in his direction, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Pope chuckled and waved him off without a glance back. “Yeah, I think I’ll take my losses.” The group’s attention was stolen by Kiara who grabbed her shirt from the lawn chair she was on, getting up and following Pope. 

You just scoffed and took another hit of your joint, watching from a few feet away as Sarah’s jaw dropped while John B and JJ cheered. “Really?” Sarah exclaimed. 

“Way to be discreet!” JJ called after the two.

“I leave and this is what happens.” John B sighed in mock disappointment, slapping his hands against his knees as he rose from his seat. “Your boy’s out.” He shook the red cup in his hand. “Beer time.” He told the two blondes before walking in your direction, your splayed figure going unnoticed in the dark of night as JB reached into the cooler to grab a fresh beer, his eyes landing on the art piece the four of you had engraved into the tree.

You watched as he slowly paused, his eyes glossing over as the boy attempted to suppress his emotions. 

“You better cry.” You spoke up, speech mildly slurred from your tipsiness. “It took me two hours to carve your long ass name into that...big ass tree.” John B looked around startled for a moment before looking at down at you laid out in the grass like a snow angel. You smiled and waved lazily at your friend.

He rolled his eyes and laughed, cracking open the canned drink in his hand. “You scared the shit out of me, little weirdo.” He said, taking a small sip. “I forget you’re a lightweight. You need a water or somethin’?”

You simply pursed your lips and waved him off. “Pfft. I am fine. And I’ll have you know I am not drunk or high, just…thinking.” The Routledge boy cocked an eyebrow at you, JJ and Sarah’s mindless banter filling the silence. “I’m serious!” You chuckled out. “I’m not, I swear. I just needed some time to think for a little bit…”

“About?”

“...Are you kidding?” You asked incredulously, lifting yourself up to lean on one arm. “John B, you came back from the dead. And believe me, I am so glad that you and Sarah are back but I’m scared for you guys. Sooner or later, someone is gonna find out you guys are back on the island and when they do?…”

He simply nodded. “That's fair." He sighed. "We tried to get through to you guys for weeks before we were able to send that message.” You hummed in response before yawning. “And even though you haven’t said it yet, I missed you too.” He winked at you.

You flipped the boy off and plopped back down into the grass as the footsteps of someone else appeared.

“What’s happenin’ over here?” He asked cheerfully, slapping a hand on John B’s shoulder. He met your eyes but you looked away. You still didn’t want to talk to him. 

John B looked between the two of you skeptically before letting whatever thought he had go, pointing at the tree in front of him. “This cute little art project.” He told the blonde, referring once more to the memorial carving. “Killed the tree, though.”

JJ laughed, bowing his head down. “Probably, yeah…” He said, sniffing before looking at JB. “I fuckin’ missed you, man.” He said seriously, pulling John B into a tight hug. They buried their heads into each other’s shoulder, embracing one another as tight as possible.

“Kind of lonely over here!” Sarah called out, the two boys releasing one another as she waved the three of you over. The slapped each other on the shoulder and began walking back over to the bonfire, you getting up and whistling for Marley to do the same, the golden retriever standing up slowly and shaking herself off before following you. 

“Aww, look.” The blonde girl cooed from her place on a log, staring ahead as the three of you followed her gaze to find Kie and Pope sailing away on the HMS Pogue. 

“There he goes.” JJ cheered, sending a thumbs up to the couple on the boat. “He jacked your boat, dude.” He said to John B.

“Pope’s poking on the Pogue.” He replied with little emotion, staring out like he couldn’t believe it while Sarah wolf-whistled in their direction. Through her cheering and whistling, you thought you heard something in the distance, prompting you to turn around with a look of confusion etched across your face.

“Hold on,” You spoke up, the remaining pogues attention turning to you. “Did any of you hear that?”

“The chickens?” JJ threw out a possible solution, you shook your head.

“No, I heard something. Like a car door shutting…” You said confidently, eyes trained on the trees in front of you trying to see through them.

After a few moments of squinting, you managed to make out two figures creeping through the bushes and if you weren’t mistaken, they were both armed. “...There’s people in the woods. They have guns.” You said, a hard expression settling on your face as you quickly took hold of Marley’s collar.

“Wha- are you sure?” Sarah asked panicked, standing up from the log she was perched on and edging closer to John B.

“Yes, I’m sure.” You replied quickly. “Hide. Hide somewhere, anywhere but in the house.” You instructed, the three of them just staring blankly at one another. You looked at them stupidly, snapping your fingers to gain their attention. “Hello? Earth to Powerpuff Girls? Unless your wanna play bullet-tag with the strangers in the woods, I suggest you hide!” You whisper-shouted, guiding Marley into the chicken coop by her collar as your three friends seemed to silently decide on hiding in the large oak tree, not before John B put out the bonfire and followed JJ and Sarah who were scattering and climbing up the trunk of the tree one by one.

There was more than enough space for you to hide Marley in the coop, pushing her inside as quietly as possible as she started to whine lowly. You brought a finger to your lips, shushing the animal as you gently pet the top of her head. “It’s okay.” You assured, pushing her a little further in as the sound of leaves ruffling got closer. “Just sit and stay. Okay?” You instructed as you stood up and made a b-line for the tree, climbing up as quickly and quietly as possible, taking the hand that was offered to you and planting yourself on top of one of the thick branches.

Through the leaves and branches, you saw the two figures emerge into the lights of the backyard. 

It was no one other than Rafe and Barry.

There was no way they found out about Sarah and John B that fast.

Barry crept up the side steps to the front door, gun held in front of him as Rafe wandered through the backyard, right under your noses. He stopped in front of the freshly blown out bonfire as Barry threw open the door to The Chateau, creeping inside. 

“Where the hell are you?...” Rafe asked mainly to himself, eyes wandering from the smoking wooden planks. Just then, the sound of glass breaking came from inside the house, followed by the sound of Barry groaning in frustration just before the man in question came barrelling out of The Chateau. 

“Ain’t shit in there!” He shouted, jogging down the small staircase. 

“Nothing?” Rafe asked, his tone calm in contrast to the drug dealer’s.

“No, nothing, Rafe.” Barry spat. It seemed as if Barry’s frustration began to rub off on the Cameron boy.

“They were obviously just here based off the smoke, man.” Rafe reprimanded, voice raising slightly as he threw a hand out in the direction of the smoking pit. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Barry ignored him. “Great observation, Boy Scout.”

“They gotta be around here somewhere...” Rafe reminded, Barry rolling his eyes and began kicking things around in the yard as Rafe turned around, staring viciously at the length of the tree. 

“P.4.L.” Barry mocked the words carved into the wood, Rafe looking back and laughing with the man, the gun in his hand pointed directly at the carving. 

“Well, shit…” The Cameron boy chuckled breathily.

“So, your sister’s a ‘Pogue For Life’ now, huh?” Barry taunted, watching as the lazy smile on Rafe’s face dropped as he looked back at the tree. His eyes started twitching as he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his nostrils flaring out too. You were no stranger to that look on his face — he was losing it…

“...Shit!” He hollered like a madman, the loud reverberation of his voice causing you and Sarah to flinch violently. Even Barry flinched behind the boy. Within seconds, Rafe had cocked the gun back and fired off several shots, the four of you ducking behind the branches as bullets flew. Barry, who tried to take the gun from his hand, ended up forcing the guns aim upwards, the four of you just narrowly missing being shot. 

“Rafe, chill!” Barry scolded, snatching the gun from the boy’s hands. “You gon' get our asses busted!” 

The silence that occurred after Barry’s warning was what allowed the duo to hear a faint whine coming from somewhere in the yard. Your hands clawed at the wood of the tree, your nails splintering under the force.

You prayed they would ignore it. That they would leave her alone.

But you knew that wasn’t going to happen the second Rafe rotated his whole body in the direction of the chicken coop, his face twisting as he walked towards it. Bending down in front of the small opening, he scoffed, running a hand down his face.

“Would you look at that?” He laughed, eyeing Barry before looking inside of the coop once more. The whining never stopped. “They left the damn dog.” He told him, voice raspy. He snapped his fingers and whistled, trying to get Marley to obey. “C’mere girl.” He tried, but she wouldn’t budge.

“The fuck…just leave it, man. What the hell you gon do with a dog?” Barry tried, annoyed at this point.

For what it was worth, your dog had a very good judgment of character. But you guessed that trait didn’t make Rafe too happy. It was like something in him snapped, shooting a hand out and grabbing Marley by the collar, dragging her out the pen when she wouldn’t listen.

She whined and barked, trying her best to resist his pull as her paws slid across the dirt. 

“No, no, no…” You muttered under your breath, moving to climb down the tree when a forceful hand wrapped itself around your arm, your eyes meeting JJ’s. “Let go. What are you-”

“You can’t go down there, are you crazy. He will hurt you.” JJ told you seriously, his eyebrows setting into a straight line. 

“The hell I can’t.” You spat back, trying to wiggle your arm out his grip to no avail. “If I don't go down there, he’s gonna hurt her.” You told the blonde in hushed tone. You hated how shaky and sad your voice sounded.

“We’ll get her back.” He told you, his grip tightening lightly in reassurance. “I promise you.” You shook your head at his words, swallowing harshly as your teary gaze went back to where Rafe was manhandling Marley. She wouldn’t stop crying out and it broke your heart.

“Jesus, you gon have to get a muzzle for that bitch.” Barry groaned. “And what you gon do when daddy asks where the mutt came from, huh, Country Club? ‘Cause you already know Snoozie’s gonna be looking up and down the island for her, missin’ posters ‘n shit gon be up before you make it back to Figure Eight.”

Rafe just licked his lips, positioned slightly bent down to keep a good grip on your dog. “Trust me, she knows where she is. They’re here, I know that for a fact.” He told Barry, his eyes wandering the seemingly empty yard. “You want your dog back?!” He shouted out into the empty yard space. “Looks like you're gonna have to put on your big girl pants and come and get her!”

That was the last thing you all heard before the two men were leaving, dragging a hysterical Marley behind them. Most dogs would bite when threatened. But Marley wasn’t a violent dog. That was one of the many things you loved about her. But in this moment you hated it.

BY THE TIME KIARA AND POPE HAD RETURNED WITH THE BOAT THE FOUR OF YOU NEEDED TO LEAVE, THE SUN HAD RISEN SIGNALING A NEW DAY. You were all silently petrified and hadn’t said more than five words in the last, what you guessed was, six hours or so. JJ perked up when he spotted his two friends in the small boat, slinging his backpack up on his shoulder and heading towards the two as the remaining three of you followed silently.

“Yo, don’t tie up yet!” He called out, skipping down the pier just as Pope was about to tie up the boat.

“What?” Kiara replied back, squinting her eyes from the sun.

“We’re dippin'.” The blonde told the girl, jogging towards the boat and coming to a stop in front of the two, throwing his bag into the boat.

“Wait, why?” Pope piped up.

“We gotta get the hell outta here.” John B said urgently, getting into the boat right after JJ, you helping Sarah down into the vehicle as JB held a hand out for her, the girl still limping mildly due to her injury.

“Rafe knows we’re here so we have to leave, like, now.” She panted out, sitting down in the boat as you climbed in after her, not saying a word.

“Okay, okay…” Pope spoke absentmindedly, hurrying to un-tie the portion of the rope he did secure, tossing it into the boat. “Wait, what about the dog? Where’s Marley?” Sarah, John B, and JJ all looked at each other then at you, prompting Kie and Pope to share a look before doing the same.

“...We’ll explain everything later.” John B threw out, caressing Sarah’s back. You didn’t protest or say anything, you were too angry to do anything. The pair of them glanced at you once more before getting into the boat themselves.

“We’ll sail a few miles out, find somewhere to camp out for a bit.” Pope announced, getting behind the wheel and starting the engine. "Then, you have to tell us what the hell is going on."

“LOOK, IF RAFE AND BARRY KNOW, IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE EVERYONE KNOWS.” John B started, hands on his head as he paced back in forth in the grass. The group had found an empty clearing a few miles away from The Chateau, an open field near The Marsh.

JJ scoffed, shaking his head. “I told you. We should’ve gone south, man.” He added. “Why does no one ever listen?”

The rest of you sat in the grass not talking. You were sitting criss-crossed, plucking individual strands of grass. 

“...I have an idea.” Sarah croaked, swallowing harshly as she stared down at her shoes. “With me back, my dad’s going to have to choose between me and Rafe.” You paused in your grass plucking, peering up at the girl. 

“Sarah-” John B started only to be cut off.

“He’s gonna choose me.” She said confidently, looking at John B. 

“Just please listen.” Her boyfriend pleaded, holding a hand out in her direction to let him speak. “Ward keeps lying to you, Sarah.”

“No,I…I know it sounds crazy-”

“Yeah, it does.” Kiara told her bluntly. 

“I know.” Sarah defended herself, biting her bottom lip and looking around at the five of you. “But he’s my dad. And I know him, and I know he loves me.” She pleaded with the group, rubbing her hands nervously against her thighs. “I’m just asking for two hours.” She concluded, eyes wide and begging for you all to understand.

You simply shook your head, looking out at the water in front of you. If Sarah believed that her father would choose her, who were you to disagree? You had your doubts but you kept them quiet. If you learned anything in the past month or so, it’s that you have to let people see who others really are for themselves, otherwise they'll never believe it.

Without any more objections, Sarah tucked her hair behind her ears and stood up, looking at the group of you one last time before walking off.

SARAH HAD BEEN GONE FOR NEARLY AN HOUR, THE FIVE OF YOU WANDERING OFF AWAY FROM ONE ANOTHER. Pope and John B were at the edge of water talking, Kiara was laying in the grass plucking flowers, and you were leaning on a nearby tree. 

You got the urge to look up from where you were digging the toe of your shoe into the dirt when the sunlight was no longer beaming on you, coming face to face with possibly one of the last people you wanted to talk to.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “What part of leave me alone do you not understand?”

The blonde scratched the back of his head, looking side to side before shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Look, I don’t know what I did to make you this mad at me. And even though I would really like to know and won’t stop bothering you until I find out, I promise I didn’t come over here to press you about it right now.”

“Then what are you over here for?”

“I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.” He said, eyes roaming your face as you looked away for a brief second. “You may hate my guts right now but we’re still pogues. And you know how I feel about you...” His voice lowered to a whisper as he leaned in closer. "That doesn't change just because you're pissed at me."

“I don’t hate you.” You didn’t mean to say it. You planned to let him talk to himself while you didn’t respond but something about JJ thinking you hated him really made your stomach turn. Sure, you felt betrayed and led on, but you didn’t hate him. You don't think you ever could.

It would take forces between the heavens and the earth before you would ever even come close to hating JJ.

“...And no. I’m not okay.” You said bluntly, straightening your posture. “I am angrier than I have ever been in my entire life and I can’t do shit about it, JJ.” You groaned, rubbing the back of your neck. “I don’t have any parental figure left, some psychopathic rapist who has an obsession with trying to ruin our lives just kidnapped my fucking dog, my best friend just came back from the dead and the only evidence we have to clear his name and keep him out of jail for a crime he didn’t even commit is being withheld by some batshit crazy woman who lives on a former slave plantation and has a live-in bodyguard, and you...” You ranted all in one breath, stopping yourself right before you went too far. 

JJ just nodded, rolling his lips in on themselves as he gave you a moment to collect yourself and catch your breath before speaking. “Yeah…yeah, that about covers it.” He said, the unhelpful statement causing you to roll your eyes. You don’t know if you purposefully left out the part about him and Kie or if it was a subconscious thing. You figured that would’ve been the best time, if any, to bring it up. But it also seemed like the most miniscule on your list of problems at the moment.

“Well…what about the box?”

“The what?” You said exhaustedly, squinting your eyes as he shifted his weight, allowing the sun to beam on your face. You were too blinded by the golden ray of light to notice how the blonde got distracted by you — the way the sun illuminated everything about you. It made the naturally lighter pieces of your hair more visible, it made your eyes a shade brighter, made your eyelashes more visible, and casted a heavenly glow across your skin. Deep down, he really wanted to get to the bottom of whatever he did to put you off from him this badly because the idea of having you in his life as more than a best friend was looking more appealing every second he looked at you.

Snapping himself out of it, he replied. “The, uh, the box of shit you stole from your mom’s office? That’s, like, hardcore evidence, right?” You pondered on the boy’s statement for a moment. It wasn’t like you’d forgotten about the evidence, it crossed your mind ever since John B’s text came through. But your biggest problem was Shoupe — you didn’t trust him. And you weren't sure if a couple of tapes would be any help.

“Ward has Shoupe and the entire Sheriff’s Department wrapped around his finger. If I hand over the only evidence we have and Shoupe chooses Ward over his oath as an officer, we lose everything.”

“But you don’t think it’s worth the risk if it can clear Bree?” He cocked an eyebrow, clearly questioning your judgment.

You bit your lip in contemplation, shaking your head. “...I’ll sort through everything and see what we can possibly bring to Shoupe. If things go south with JB and this whole key that Pope keeps talking about, I turn it all over to the police. Deal?”

JJ nodded his head, glancing back at his two friends at the edge of the water. “Deal.”

“In the meantime?” You threw out, pushing yourself off of the tree and adjusting yourself. “I’m gonna figure out how to get my damn dog back.” Just then, you saw the HMS Pogue coming towards the shore, Sarah perched on the edge.

The five of you stood up, approaching the edge of the water and watching as the girl let the engine die and the boat come to a halt. The guys moved forward to pull the boat up onto the sand, the girl taking the hand John B offered to assist her out of the boat.

“So, how’d it go?” He asked, hair blowing in the wind as you all crowded each other. Sarah looked to her feet, shaking her head.

“You guys were right.” She sniffled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It didn’t work.”

Everyone nodded despondently, expecting nothing more or less but still disappointed by the outcome. Despite you and JJ’s separate conversation, the pogues weren’t completely aware of the evidence you were holding onto. You figured they'd forgotten. You didn’t want John B and Sarah to have run again, but you needed some time to get what you needed to at least attempt to clear their names without backfire.

“We still have one more opt-”

“What’s that?” Kiara interrupted you, looking petrified at the water ahead of her. You all followed her gaze, finding a fleet of boats with flashing lights sailing directly towards the six of you. 

“How’d the cops find us?” Pope added, taking a weary step back as the boats got closer. 

“They must’ve followed you here.” John B told his girlfriend. “It had to have been Ward.” He spoke rather calmly. 

“Stay on the beach with your hands in the air!” One of the officers commanded through a megaphone. But since when were any of you known to follow rules?

A shared look amongst the group had you all bolting in the opposite direction within seconds, almost tripping over one another in the process. Running on sand was a harder task than you ever imagined, the ground feeling as if it was slipping underneath your feet.

One quick glance behind you and the officers were hopping off their boats, chasing after you all. Your shoes were submerged when you had to run through a shallow bank of salt water to get to the other side of the beach, hoping the trees would hide you. 

Sarah started to slow down, the running causing a strain on her side. John B was quick to scoop her up, throwing an arm around her torso and slinging one of her own over his shoulders. Tree branches and bushes nipped at your calves but you paid no mind to it. 

You could hear the heavy footsteps and radio chatter of the officers behind you all, scattered in the woods, trying to find you all from any and every angle. Reaching the edge of a pond surrounded by weeds, you all let John B help Sarah in first before following, the water going above your knees. 

The further in you waded, the deeper it got until you all had to literally swim across the body of water, Sarah at the tail end of the group. The murky water splashed into your mouth and in your eyes but you kept going. 

The sound of splashing and yelling behind you signaled that you’d been spotted just as you reached the other side, you being the first one out of the water. With no where else to go, you all hid behind the largest tree in sight, the object able to conceal the half dozen of you.

Sirens blared in the distance, your heads snapping behind you to find two police cars flying down the dirt road.

“We’re trapped.” Pope panted, crouching behind the tree. “They got us surrounded. What do we do?”

“We’re not getting out of this.” JJ said, blonde strands soaked, his shirt sticking to his body as he rang out a bandana. “We gotta make a stand.” Pulling the infamous gun from his waistband and wiping it off. You looked at him crazy, snatching the object from his hand before he had a chance to react. Your own hair was sticking to your face, the damp feeling of your clothes making you uncomfy,

“That’s the complete opposite of solving the problem.” You told him as he absentmindedly reached for the weapon. You held it out of his reach, oblivious to John B watching the entire interaction occur.

He was grateful that he had friends willing to get into this kind of trouble for him. But his heart wouldn’t allow any of you to go down with him. Unbeknownst to you, JB had climbed down from the tree, taking hold of your wrist of the arm that held the gun.

Your eyes met his as he slowly took the weapon from your grasp, letting it fall to the ground. Your eyebrows furrowed as he looked at each and every one of you with the most detached look on his face. Smiling at you all, he spoke.

“It’s gonna be all right.” He choked out, gently letting your wrist fall. It was then that you knew — he was surrendering. He took slow, backwards steps away from you all kicking a pile of dirt and leaves over the gun to conceal it.

Just then, Shoupe arrived, wasting no time in drawing his gun in your friend’s direction. “John B! Step out into the clearing!” He hollered, officers surrounding you all from every direction and every single one of them armed. 

“I’m surrendering!” He told the man, hands in the air. 

“Aye, the rest of y’all stay right where ya are, keep your hands where I can see 'em.” Shoupe told the five of you behind JB, all of your hands going in the air slowly. 

“Hey, listen Shoupe, I wanna testify!” John B cut in, eyes red and teary. 

“It’s ‘bout time.” The man said, approaching the boy with two officers trailing behind him. All three of them pointing pistols at you all. “Get down, do not move a muscle. Everybody else, don’t move!”

Shoupe directed one of his deputies to detain John B, the man storming over as he holstered his weapon. He pat JB down quickly before snatching the boy up into a chokehold, clearly out of anger and not protocol. 

“Are you serious?!” JJ was the first to call out, voice echoing throughout the woods.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” You shouted yourself, taking one small step forward but the female officer that chased the car a month ago, Deputy Plumb, was quick to stop you, pointing her pistol right in between your eyes.

“Stay where you are!” She instructed firmly, her eyebrows setting into a fine line. 

You and your friends were forced to watch as the officer arresting John B, who Shoupe referred to as Deputy Thomas, slammed your friend onto his back into the grass and beat on him. You were all shouting and screaming but anytime you took a step, there was officer in your face with a fully loaded pistol or an assault rifle. And these people looked too trigger happy to be arresting a teenager.

Shoupe finally stepped in when Thomas had John B by the collar of his shirt. The man in charge attempted to pull his deranged officer off of your friend but he was pushed back as the man faced John B once more, nostrils flared as he held the boy mid-air.

“...This is for Peterkin.”

And with an uppercut, John B was out cold.

next chapter>

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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©loveharlow.

[r0ttenhearts]

My Dove

sypnosis: in which kazuha leaves you after the death of tomo

warnings: angst, no comfort

“hey, wait, kazu! hold it still!” you giggle into the frame as kazuha holds a kamera above the three of you. a smile gracing your features as kazuha’s arm slung around your neck. tomo’s wide smile perfectly captured in that photo.

that was the last time you all took a photo together.

the news of tomo’s passing hit you hard, but not as hard as it hit kazuha. his fleeting touches became much more scattered as he kept to himself. your usual routine of being together came to a screeching halt the day he told you he needed space.

the solem look in his eyes, the way his head tilted downwards, you were weak to him so of course you complied. but what you didn’t know was that he was leaving inazuma. he never told you he was boarding the crux, nor that he was going to liyue.

you only found out when yoimiya brought it up to you one day as you helped her decorate her firecrackers.

��do you know how long until kazuha is back? i helped him load them up but he never said when he’d be back.”

you froze at the mention of kazuha. load? when he’ll be back? your mouth felt dry as you looked up at yoimiya from your painted firework.

“what do you mean, yoi? he left?”

yoimiya’s eyes widened, her hands halting.

“the ship is going to liyue and kazuha was on it with captain beidou. i thought you knew (y/n), isn’t he your best friend? you two used to always be together on the docks.”

you shook your head. your heart clenching. kazuha never told you he was leaving.. why didn’t he? especially after what happened. he said he needed space, not that he was leaving.

your mind flashes back to the private moments you had with him, moments you’d replay in your head that never failed to make your heart race.

his gentle lips on yours, the way his warm hand would gently squeeze yours, his warmth breath on your face as he did your eyeliner for you, his endearing nickname he gave you, “dove.” did this all mean nothing to him?

“he never told me anything.” you whispered as yoimiya rubbed your shoulder. she assured you that he’d be back soon enough! he just needed time to sort out his thoughts like he said! you stayed positive, agreeing with her until weeks turned into months and eventually it had been 3 years since he left.

your positive attitude and cheery demeanor was long gone, replaced by a cold and indifferent girl that now wore your face. mentions of kazuha and the renowned traveler had met your ears as your friends gushed over the traveler one day, failing to notice the way you scoffed at the mention of his name.

kaedehara kazuha. the man that had taken your heart with him on that ship, only to let it disappear into the salty winds of the sea he seemed to adore. he adored more than he did you, anyway.

you pretended not to care for his absence, cursing his very existence every time someone would ask you about him. not a single letter from him, nothing. not a word. if he wanted to forget about you, you declared you’d do the same.

one day after helping yoimiya with her firecrackers for the yokai festival, you noticed she was more chipper than usual.

“what’s with you today?” you asked, your monotone voice flat as ever. yoimiya shook her head, giggling to herself. “oh nothing (y/n)! thanks for the help today. if you could, could you go set up some fireworks by the docks?”

you nodded, scooping up a bundle of the brightly painted fireworks as you made your way down to the docks. you didn’t notice a familiar ship that was docked with a few others.

you sighed, crouching down and setting up some fireworks together. you tied a bundle of them with red string, not hearing hurried footsteps from behind you.

“dove? is that you?”

your eyes widened with shock as you heard him behind you. you slowly stood up from your crouched position, turning to see the face of the man that had broken your heart. a wide smile on his face as he tugged at his sleeve before taking a step towards you. his face falling as he saw you take a step back.

“(y/n)? what’s wrong? i came back to see how you were doing-”

“don’t bullshit me kazuha.” you spat, voice laced with anger as you walked in front of him, pointing a finger to his chest. angry tears bubbled up in the corners of your eyes, your chest feeling nothing but hate.

“if you cared so much, why didn’t you write? not a word from you for these past few years, and you think showing up will make that okay? you didn’t even fucking tell me you were leaving.”

you shoved him hard as he stumbled, his eyes creasing with worry. the sight of that only made you angrier as you lifted your hand, a slap resounding off of the water.

“you’re a cruel man to have broken my heart and shown up here like nothing happened between us. i no longer feel anything for you kazuha. don’t speak to me again.”

kazuha didn’t say a word as you left, watching your back as you slowly disappeared from view. he knew he fucked up, but he didn’t think you’d be so angry. angry enough to strike him.

a few days had passed since your reunion with kazuha. the festival was now in full swing as you stood next to yoimiya in your yukata. she gave you a small smile, telling you she knew what had happened. you frowned, remembering the events that had occurred.

“wait a moment, traveler! paimon keeps taking me to the food stalls.”

your eyes narrowed at the boy with white hair, his smile and laugh as he stood next to the blonde traveler and their floating companion. the sight of it made you sick.

“why do you think he never told me?”

yoimiya looked to you as you asked that, her nose scrunching up in confusion. “what do you mean (y/n)?”

“he just looks so happy with them.” you gestured to the trio that was down the hill from where you both stood. yoimiya shook her head, taking your hands in hers. “don’t think like that (y/n). i’m sure he had his reasons. he cared- cares about you.”

her worried features scanned your face for any sign of any emotion that would tell how you were feeling. your features remained indifferent as she hugged you.

after a month kazuha had boarded the ship once again, his eyes scanning the crowd for any glimpse of you. it was a silly hope to think you’d see him off after the scene that you two shared, but he wanted to fix things. every time he attempted to talk to you, you’d turn and briskly walk in another direction. it hurt. hurt to see his childhood friend act in such a manner towards him. he sighed, his bandaged hand resting on his chest as the boat began to sail away from inazuma.

“i’ll make it up to you one day, my dove. i promise.”

taglist: @samarill

[starfall-spirit]

But For You, I Was Made

Read on Ao3 // Fic Masterlist

Fic Summary: A curse. Divine punishment. Rhys didn’t know what it was that kept the cycle in motion. All he knew was that he was going to break if he had to hold his mate on her deathbed again.

OR;

The Feysand Reincarnation AU

AN: This is the second chapter of my gift fic for @sajirah for the acotar gift exchange. Fun Fact: This chapter was inspired by your art.

Chapter II CW: Smut, Slight praise kink, light angst (I cried writing it, but I'm a literal baby)

Chapter Summary: Decades after the war’s end, Rhys is slowly recovering from losing his mate, mother, and sister, only to find himself face to face with his love once again. He never believed in the concept of rebirth until he saw her standing among the artists of his home city with no recollection of the fragile love they’d built in a world of pain.

Chapter II: Tell Me I'm Someone You Can't Replace

Feyre

It was just a week from Winter Solstice when the first snow dusted the rooftops of Velaris, faerie lights painting the art district in sheets of glistening white. Bundled from head to toe, artists and customers bustled through the Rainbow, darting in and out of shops while the last handful of potential buyers perused the vendor carts and studios that lined the square in the half hour before most of the shops officially closed.

Feyre hadn’t had the means to acquire a stand to set out her own paintings, though she couldn’t truthfully claim she’d made much of an attempt. It had been less than six months since she’d crossed the borders of Velaris with the other handful of half-breeds trying to find sanctuary, and voicing an interest in training her craft had been nerve-racking enough. To sell it… she couldn’t quite muster the courage. Her art was her happy place, and in her twenty short years she’d faced enough scrutiny without exposing that part of herself. She wasn’t sure she could handle criticism from the first people to show her kindness.

So she watched the others in the mornings while running between the odd jobs keeping her afloat. Marked their techniques and in the dark hours when the stars came to life, quietly worked to sketch her imaginings and blend her paints just so before accepting a canvas from her mentor’s stock.

“Stop that worrying. We can afford a few errors now and then,” the woman assured her time and time again, “So long as you tell me you won’t give into the doubt you’ll face along the way.”

She tried to keep those words in mind, but it wasn’t always easy, quieting the niggling voice that had begun making comparisons between her work and those mounted proudly on stands behind the shop windows. They just seemed—

“Exquisite.”

Feyre jerked, her pallet falling from her hand and making a mess of her carefully blended paints. She really hoped it wouldn’t stain the wood grain before she could clean it. Huffing softly, she crouched to clean the worst of the mess. “Sir, the shop has closed for the evening and the owner has gone home. If you wish to view something—”

Standing to face the late arrival, she froze, a bit unbelieving of the situation she’d landed herself in and certainly feeling like a fool.

“High Lord. My apologies.” She bowed her head awkwardly, growing even more nervous when the male failed to respond. 

“You don’t—” He coughed lightly. “Enough of that, please. It isn’t necessary here.”

There was a strange tension in his voice as he seemed to take her in a second time. “The window was lit. It was my mistake to assume you were still open. I can come back at a suitable hour tomorrow.” He swallowed. “You’re the owner’s apprentice, I assume. You’ll be here in the morning?”

Feyre blushed at the assumption. “No, High Lord. She just allows me to practice in the evenings.”

“I see,” he said, seeming almost shy as he tried to word his next question. “And is there a time in the morning or evening I might see you again?”

She blinked. It almost sounded like he was… It was a laughable thought, that a High Lord would consider courting a half-human girl. Why hadn’t he left the moment she said they were closed?

“High Lord—”

“Please, Feyre. I’m just Rhys when it comes to the people of Velaris.”

“Rhys, then. I don’t imagine you have the time or desire to see me again. It doesn’t hurt my feelings.”

“No!” She retreated a step, startled. “I’m sorry,” he said, giving an awkward laugh and reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m lacking my usual charm this evening. I would like to see you again. A walk down the Sidra, or a meal, if you’d prefer. I just… I’d like to see you again.”

“Well. I suppose.” Feyre offered an hour she wasn’t working, agreeing to meet him outside the shop at noon. 

“Perfect. Goodnight, Feyre.” She didn’t realize she’d never told him her name until he’d slipped into the night air. 

~~~~~

Rhysand

“Rhys…”

“It was her, Mor. I’d recognize my mate anywhere.” He turned to look back over the balcony and out to the twinkling city beyond, sickened by the look on her face. Like he was someone to pity, relapsing in the furthest depths of his grief for a female she’d never even met. Mor stood from the table, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Mor, I’m not losing my mind. She was there, I swear it.”

“Okay. Gods know what miracles we could be granted in this crazy world.” A pause, then, “Where are you taking her? To the theater? Oh, the weather’s finally turning to start skating.”

He shook his head slightly, glad to see his cousin slip into her usual attitude. “We’ve just had the first snow, Mor. No one’s skating yet. I was thinking lunch, a walk through the city if I can manage to keep her from running off. From what I gathered her schedule isn’t exactly stable.”

He only realized his was frowning when Mor laughed. “You can’t fix everyone’s problems, dear cousin.”

“I should be able to care for my mate,” he snapped back, unable to suppress the slight growl behind the words.

Mor rolled her eyes. “You’re such a male. The girl’s just met you and probably doesn’t remember anything about the war if she’s truly been, what, reincarnated?” She shook her head. “You can’t just step in and make everything better if she hasn’t even sensed the bond, Rhys.”

For the first time since losing Feyre, Rhys finally found himself offering a true smile. “Just watch me.”

~~~~~

Feyre

“You look lovely.” 

Feyre looked up from the spot she’d been staring down at, nervous about the situation as a whole. Perhaps he’d seemed courteous and welcoming, but he was still the High Lord. And she was… “It’s just a sweater.” 

One that had cost her far more than she hoped it would. But anything else she owned was threadbare or paint stained. Both, for that matter. And for the first time in her life she was going out with someone. Just for lunch, of course. She had no illusions about this going anywhere bigger, but it still felt nice to look nice for once. She twisted her sleeve, awkward under his piercing stare.

“Darling, you have nothing to worry about. Just relax.” He smirked, standing so he faced her fully. “Here, we’ll start again.” Leaning down, Rhys raised her hand to brush his lips across her knuckles. “You look lovely today, Feyre darling.”

Something snapped, sharp and hot before mellowing to a soft glowing thread. An endless river of joy and light and all things good. And the next time he met her eyes, she saw it for what it was. The High Lord of the Night Court was her mate.

Rhys smirked again. “There you are.”

Unable to think of anything to say, sensible or otherwise, Feyre just stared back at him. That is until her filter gave away entirely. “Y-you knew. You knew?!”

“Feyre—”

His face instantly fell, amusement replaced with something like panic. “Was it before last night? Is that how you already knew my name?”

He cleared his throat, obviously floundering as her growing tirade drew the eyes of one customer after the next. By the gods, she was yelling at the High Lord. No one else had any knowledge of this newfound connection. “I really need you to stop referring to me as that,” he grumbled.

“Get out of my head!”

Rhys blew out a sharp breath. “I apologize in advance, but this has become a necessity.”

One arm banded around her waist and he winnowed them to what appeared to be a small cabin. She scowled, jerking free of his hold even as it clashed against some newfound instinct. The one that wanted her to stake a a claim on him like some animal.

“Did you know before last night?”

“No. Yes? It’s…” He sighed, pacing. “I’m not entirely sure there’s a way to make this believable, but just promise you’ll listen before throwing me out on my ass.”

No platitudes or excuses yet. He claimed he’d give her what space she needed to process whatever he had to say. She could hear him out. Feyre crossed her arms. “Go on then.”

Seeming at a loss to whether it was okay to approach her at this point, he finally opted to take a seat at the small table off of the kitchen space. “I only knew you were in Velaris last night, but I discovered our mating bond nearly seventy years ago.” She raised a brow. “I know, you’re much younger than that now. Still, we met during the war. You were a seraphim commander in Prince Drakon’s forces. We never had the time to truly accept the bond, but when I was captured my power was neutralized, with it… You sensed the bond go quiet. Somehow tracked where my unit was being held.” 

His voiced was strained the next time he spoke, silver lining his eyes. Either her mate was a marvelous actor, or he truly believed this insanity to be true. “They tortured and killed the men in my unit one by one. Fae or human, it didn’t matter. When I didn’t break… when they discovered you’d tracked us there… They sensed the bond. They knew, Feyre, that was one of the few chinks in my armor. All it would take to break me was your pain. Your strength kept me from giving them the intel they were after. 

“But in the end they killed you too. I finally broke free, but they…” He shook his head. “By the time I came back around the few of us alive had been brought back to the closest compound. I was left with my shame and grief.”

“And last night?” Feyre found herself asking. She hadn’t realized she’d joined him at the table until he took her hand in his.

Smiling softly, a final confession fell from his tear-soaked lips. “Last night, Feyre, the Mother granted me a miracle.”

There was a tentative tug on the bond. A spark of fragile hope. A shot in the dark.

For some reason, buying into this insanity, Feyre found herself tugging back.

~~~~~

Rhys’ Inner Circle was welcoming, of course, but she saw the moment of hesitation. When he had returned to Velaris after the war he’d gone quiet in his grief, both of the lost bond and his lost brothers. The bond was known only to his family and after just seeing him start to heal, Rhys had brought her into their home making an impossible claim.

Her own lack of knowledge from this supposed past life did little to alleviate their doubts. “Rhys has shown and told me enough I believe it,” she’d told them. And she’d left it at that. Their faith in his claim wasn’t her business.

The dinner and conversation to follow it had been slightly overwhelming, she had to confess. Even considering the wine consumption during and after dinner, they were a casual bunch, speaking freely and throwing jibes. A family, just as Rhys had promised. And she had been welcomed to become a part of it.

That’s not to say there weren’t a few awkward moments while each of them had been open and honest about their pasts and how they came to be so close to one another, when Feyre’s turn came to share her own journey she’d found herself tongue-tied. “Most of it’s self-explanatory, I think. A half-human in this world. I’m just lucky to have made it here.”

There had been a moment of silence. Not necessarily pity or disappointment. She honestly didn’t know what to call it. Cassian had finally been the one to break it. “Lucky for us,” he offered, throwing her a grin over the lip of his glass. A hint of levity. “And especially lucky for Rhysie.”

Was it luck, she wondered in that next moment of silence, for Rhys to be mated to a female with a mortal lifespan? A half-breed to be sneered at when she was appointed as Lady of Night.

Rhys squeezed her hand under the table. “We’ll figure it out, Feyre. Together.”

“Promise?”

Without a beat of hesitation, he replied, “I promise.”

~~~~~

“I know it isn’t much.” Rhys gave her a little half smile from his place at the table. Chin propped on his first two fingers, he seemed thoroughly amused by her justified attempt at modesty.

One day in the presence of his family, bringing her into the fold. And Mor had promptly thrown them out of the House of Wind. "I don’t want to see you for a week. Two, actually.”

“I can’t disappear for two weeks, Mor.”

“We’ll take care of business, cousin. Go take care of your mate. Have fun.”

So there they were, eyes locked, Feyre sliding a plate of cold cuts and cheese across the table while Rhys let his sole focus lay in observing her,  eyes softing more and more with each moment. “C’mere,” he murmured, pushing his chair back and motioning for her to sit in his lap.

“There’s some part of me,” she started, watching him take the first bite of her pitiful offering, “that’s waiting to wake up. To say that this frankly insane story—” Rhys chuckled, swallowing the bite of ham. “—is a silly dream. A figment of my imagination.” Biting her lip, Feyre pressed a single kiss to his neck before meeting his eyes once again. “I am very glad I haven’t woken up yet.” Grinning, he reached down to pinch her side. “Hey!”

“Believe you’re awake now?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Eat. Mate.”

Still grinning back at her, Rhys instead raised a slice of cheese to her lips. “You’re the one who’s skin and bones, here.”

“I’m fine.”

“How long have you been giving people that line? Putting yourself last?” She didn’t argue further, letting him alternate accepting food and feeding her. “Full?” he asked when the plate was clean.

Even if she wasn't, the tension between them was a slow burning flame, building bit by bit asnd making food the furthest thing from her mind. Leaning back down, Feyre whispered, “Take me to bed, Rhys.”

~~~~~

“Please, tell me you aren’t going to be weird about this.”

Feyre wished she could say there wasn’t any sort of change after her mating ceremony and bond acceptance were behind her, but the shift was there—and not exactly subtle either. She hadn’t been anyone special in the time she’d spent in Velaris since crossing the border.

But she’d still been present. With so few half-breeds crossing, she stuck out. Was memorable as she picked up those odd jobs, sometimes returning to a home, shop, or business often enough the owners knew her by name. 

Now she was their High Lord’s mate, shooting from the bottom social rung to the top with a matter of one proclamation and a romantic getaway. While Rhys had managed to get the vast majority of the city to greet him more casually than a monarch typically preferred, it was clear no one quite knew what sort of person a title might turn her into.

She just hoped this phase of awkwardness would fade as quickly as it appeared.

“You’re a female interested in training in her craft. Why would I treat you strangely?”

Feyre sighed, approaching the canvas she’d finished her base coat on before leaving the city almost two weeks ago. “Thank you. I don’t think I say it enough, but I appreciate there’s so much you’re willing to ignore.”

Feyre was a stranger born behind foreign borders, all but an intruder to the hidden paradise and its residents. There in that little shop, that hard line drawn was erased. A haven until she found her footing, made acquaintances and friends. Feyre couldn’t be more grateful for her mentor.

The female just smiled. “Have a good night, dear.”

That was where her mate found her hours later, his hands slowly sliding into place to massage the muscles in her aching back. She’d hardly moved an inch since resetting her palette to start her design.

“I didn’t realize it was so late,” she muttered, tilting her head back. “I’m—”

“Don’t apologize,” he told her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Enough is changing in your life, you deserve something familiar. Relaxing. Do you want to stay a while longer?”

Feyre shook her head, standing from her stool. “Let me put this in the back. It’ll just take a few minutes.”

“Take your time, darling. I’ll be at the door.” 

She was grateful he didn’t try to offer his help. That he could recognize she wasn’t ready to share her creations yet. So few people respected that need for privacy, and that intuition was just another thing to prove how attuned to one another they’d become. A perfect pair, as everyone hoped to find with their mate.

A few minutes later she had her station cleaned and joined Rhys at the door, hiding a smile when he helped her into her coat and wound her wool scarf around her neck. “The wind has become brutal in the past few hours.” 

With the bulk of him behind her, she was spared from the chill long enough to lock up the shop for the night, but by the time they made it halfway down the street she was pressed tight to his side in an attempt to leech any warmth she could. In the end, he winnowed them to the townhouse, carrying her into the house with a rumbling laugh. 

“When it gets a little warmer I’ll start taking you down the Sidra in the evenings. There’s nothing quite like The Rainbow on a summer night.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she grumbled, watching him run a bath in the massive tub, only shutting off the tap when the heat of it began to steam the mirrors. Then he was unbuttoning his shirt, stripping out of the rest of his clothes in a hurry before crossing the tile to reach for her. 

“Rhys…”

“It's hardly the first time we’ve bathed together, darling. Unless you're bothered by it. I can always—”

“No.” He smirked, undressing her at a far more leisurely pace and carrying her into the massive sunken tub. “Don’t look so pleased,” she huffed, letting him hold her weight as the cold and tension slowly melted away.

“Why not? I’m here in the most lovely city on earth, holding the most beautiful female to grace it. I don’t think there’s ever been a male more lucky.”

She scoffed. “You are the absolute worst flirt, Rhysand—”

“Let’s not pull out the full name, darling.” 

She huffed into his neck before following the motion of his hands on her hips and turning so her back was flush to his chest. Rivulets of water trailed down their skin with each motion of his hands, first working soap and conditioner into hair before moving down to map every dip and curve of her body. Just a few weeks time had already helped her start to fill out. Her bones were less prominent, at least.

She’d worried at first, what he’d think of her physically. Not just because she hadn’t maintained a healthy weight, but because her body was the most glaringly human part of her. Pointed ears, she might have, but the almost too-perfect form faeries were known for hadn’t been passed down to her.

But Rhys hadn’t cared one bit. Had been more than happy to worship every inch of her day after day, night after night. She was almost afraid to get used to it.

“You shouldn’t be,” he murmured, thumb rolling across her nipple. “My love is unconditional. There’s nothing about you I see as flawed, human or fae. Your heritage, your body, your mind—there is nothing about you that would push me away, my love.”

Feyre turned in his arms so they were eye to eye once again. “Even when I’m old and gray and crippled beyond reason.” 

She watched something break in him then. There was a possibility they would find no solution to the toll of mortality. That the relentless march of time would grant her decades when he had centuries. That they could not be guaranteed another lifetime together.

“Even then, Feyre. Even then.” 

She took a shaky breath, nuzzling into his neck again. “That isn’t a problem for right now,” she whispered. “Let’s just…”

He tugged her a little closer, her thighs parting fully to lock around his hips. “What do you need tonight, sweet girl?”

She let his voice wash over her, drug her teeth across his collarbone until he groaned beneath her. “I need you, Rhys. Always you.”

A low, pleased growl met her ears. Then his fingers were playing between her legs, parting her folds to expose her clit. She jolted, water lapping dangerously close to the lip of the tub. Rhys chuckled. “Come here, little mate.” Feyre let him guide her down onto his length, trembling the whole way. There had been no shortage of sex since their bond acceptance, but Feyre wasn’t sure she’d ever grow used to that first stretch, especially when he made her sink down like that. “Just like that. So good for me, Feyre.”

Her hands closed around the porcelain on either side of her, fingers curling and uncurling as she tried to leash the dizzying pleasure that had already started to flood through her. She didn’t care what her reaction did to his ego, she just needed him to move. 

She managed to force her eyes open, blink up at him in request. ”Can’t—” 

He clicked his tongue, hand tightening on her hips. “Oh, my little mate knows exactly what she wants. Just needs a little help.” He lifted her slightly, setting an easy pace. Up, down, up down. “No more thinking about what’s ahead. Just staying right here with me. Taking your pleasure. That’s it,” he praised when she kept her momentum without him, shifting her shaking hands to his shoulders one at a time. 

She was gripping him tight enough her nails broke skin, but he just grinned back at her hips starting to lift to meet hers as his thumb moved back to her clit. “Rhys,” she said, slightly panicked when her climb to release came so sharply. 

“Let go, Feyre. Want you to come for me, just like this.” It rattled through her, a wave of ecstasy that had her bowing in his arms. Rhys cursed as she clenched down, biting into her shoulder as he spilled inside her. It would leave a mark her body would be much slower to heal than his, but she hardly minded that. She liked the reminder she was really his.

“Fuck, Feyre.” She shivered in his arm, only realizing the water had chilled when her mind and body fully righted themselves. “Let’s get you dried off and tucked in, darling.”

She whimpered when he eased her off his cock and cleaned her with warm water before stepping out onto the bathmat. Bundling them both in soft towels he started to dry the ends of her hair. “So sweet,” he whispered when her nose found its home in the crook of his neck once again. She was starting to find it was her favorite place to be—tucked in where his scent was strongest.

“We’ll find a way, won’t we Rhys?” she asked after he’d slipped a nightgown over her head.

He was silent for a moment, letting the question sit between them as he brushed her hair in measured strokes. “We’ll try, Feyre. I won’t stop looking until we’ve found a way. I promise.”

~~~~~

Rhysand

In the end, their efforts were fruitless. No spell or healing magic could still the hands of time. Year after year, Rhys watched his mate change with the seasons. Her painting was the first thing she grieved, her hands stiff and pained with age. Arthritis, Madja called it. The tonics only helped for a time. Then it was her memories. Not of him, but the precious moments they’d shared in those sixty years. The rest of their family, a forgotten story, even as each of them spoke and tended to her each day.

In the last few days her deepest worries were finally voiced.

“I should have done more. Even if I am scorned in the Hewn City, I am your mate. Their Lady.”

“You did more than any of them deserve.”

~

“What have I done for this city beyond the little things? How do they really see me?”

“The little things mean the most, my love.”

~

Her last regret nearly broke him. 

“I never gave you a child.”

“Feyre—”

“It was my duty, was it not? Now I am dying. You are a High Lord without an heir.”

“It’s not your fault we could not conceive, Feyre. I have lived a more rewarding life than I imagined, and I haven’t grieved a moment. Nor should you.”

That was the night her heart gave out. The next morning she was buried beside his sister. And beneath the spring wisteria, Rhys felt the last little light in his chest wink out.

~~~~~

Taglist: @whatishowedyouinthedark // @sajirah // @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer

[drewsbuzzcut]

Don’t You Ever Grow Up

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: minor angst, mentions being scared and nervous

Lately the days have been flying so fast, you feel like you will never catch up. And maybe, you don’t want to catch up. Nolan is starting pre-school -which was something that was decided last minute- and Nolan isn’t excited about it. He starts the same day as Mat’s first day of the new season. There’s just a lot of changes happening, so you and Mat decided to spend the day, before all the change, as a family day. More specifically, whatever Nolan wanted to do.

You feel so bad for your baby, he’s really nervous about starting school. You can’t help but feel guilty for the way he’s feeling. Mat has been quick to soothe you, assuring you that this time was coming and there was no stopping it. Mat is great in that way. In all ways, really. He’s so quick to make sure you and the kids are feeling loved and happy.

“Mommy?” Nolan opens your bedroom door, peeking behind it.

“Mommy’s still asleep, buddy. Is everything okay?” Mat whispers, his body propped up by his elbow as his body is faced toward your sleeping figure. He was watching you sleep as you’ve been deprived of it lately.

“Cuddle?” Nolan asks, seemingly shy.

“If you can squeeze between me and mom,” Mat teases, chuckling.

Nolan comes charging to your bed, happily climbing up. He does, however, wake you up in the process. You feel his tiny body nuzzle next to yours, so you bring a hand to card through his hair.

“Good morning, Nolie bear,” you kiss the top of his head.

“Morning mommy. I love you. I love you, daddy,” he says through a yawn.

“I love you.”

“I love you, little man,” you and Mat say at the same time.

Nolan rolls into Mat’s arms, pulling you with him for a Nolan sandwich. It brings out the happiest giggles from your oldest.

Sloane’s cries ring from the baby monitor, which will also trigger Angel’s cries. Mat volunteers to attend to them while you cuddle in bed with your first baby.

“What do you want to do today, baby? Anything you want,” you ask him.

He looks up at you with excited eyes, nervously asking, “can we go skating?”

He has been begging you and Mat to take him out on the ice for the first time, especially after getting his very own hockey kit from his grandma for Christmas last year. You’ve been very hesitant all while Mat’s been patiently waiting.

“You know what, Nolan? I think that’d actually be a great idea, and I think daddy will be really excited,” you say to him, booping his nose.

His face scrunches up, his arms wrapping around you the best they can.

“Can we join in on this cuddle sesh?” Mat asks, holding Sloane and AJ in each arm.

Sloane is already dozing off, as per usual when she’s in her daddy’s arms, and Angel is watching you with his head leaning on Mat’s shoulder.

“Actually, we all need to get ready. It’s a very important day. We’re taking Nolan out on the ice for the first time,” you say nonchalantly, but Mat perks up and hands Sloane over to you so you can feed her.

“I will get the boys dressed and fed, and I will get Sloane ready after she eats. Thank you, baby, I’m really excited,” he rambles, nose scrunching up the same way Nolan’s was.

“I love you,” you beck him over for a kiss.

“I love you.”

———————————————————————

“Daddy, I’m kinda scared. Don’t let go,” Nolan mumbles, clutching onto the sleeves of Mat’s hoodie.

He’s not so confident on skates, but Mat’s doing a great job at guiding him.

You’re seated on the bench, Sloane extra bundled up in her car seat and Angel perched on your lap, cuddled in your arms. He watches with wide eyes, already captivated by the skates on ice.

“Baby, look at daddy and Nolie,” you point them out to him, and he does his little dance and giggles.

“Dada!” Angel screeches, gathering Mat’s attention, so he waves in your direction.

“Okay, Nolan, I think it’s time for you to go by yourself. Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you to catch you if you fall,” Mat squats down and stares into Nolan’s eyes.

Nolan’s lips quiver and his eyes get watery as he looks your way.

“Maybe mommy doesn’t want me to. I should ask her,” he mumbles, pulling on Mat’s hand.

“Hey, baby, Nolan wants to know if you think he should do his first solo skate, with me at a close enough distance to catch him,” he says to you.

“My boy, I love you,” you kiss Nolan’s cheek.

“I think you should try to skate on your own, only if you want to, though. Don��t feel like you have to, and don’t feel like you can’t because you’re worried about me. Mommy gets nervous, but that’s because it’s my job. If you want to skate, then skate,” you say to him.

“Okay, mommy. I skate like a big boy!”

“There you go!”

“C’mon, bud, let’s go make mommy proud,” Mat gives you a parting kiss and sets Nolan back on his skate-clad feet.

Nolan stumbles his first few tries, but each time he picks himself back up. It’s when he's down to his last couple minutes on the ice, that he finally skates for a whole minute on his own. You’ve never been so happy to see his proud smile. Your husband lifts his son in the air, spinning him around while kissing his cheek. When they get back to you, you pull Nolan in for a long hug. You want to cry just thinking about how fast he’s growing up.

“You did so good,” you whisper for Nolan to hear, but you’re also looking into your husband’s eyes, so he knows you’re talking to him, too.

Later that night, you go out for pizza and take Nolan to his favorite toy store. People probably think you’re crazy with the way you’re always snapping pictures, but you desperately needed a reminder of the day.

Back at home, you and Mat give all the kids a bath and get them tucked into bed. Last is Nolan, as per his request. It’s his way of making sure he gets your full attention.

You’re combing Nolan’s dark, brown hair in your bed when Mat exits from his own shower. He throws himself on the bed and you laugh at the way Nolan laughs at him.

“Mommy, can I sleep in here tonight?” His hazel eyes peer into yours, and you think about the day you first saw them in the hospital.

“Of course, my love.”

“Mommy, I’m scared,” he whispers, but Mat clearly hears him because he’s sitting up in an instant, pulling Nolan into his arms.

He holds him like he did when he was a baby, you tear up at the sight.

“Why are you scared, bub?”

“I don’t want to be by myself tomorrow at school,” he explains.

“It’ll only be for a little while. Me and daddy will be there to pick you up afterwards,” you assure him.

“Promise?” He mumbles, eyes getting a little red.

“Of course, baby. Me and daddy will drop you off and pick you up. You won’t be gone for too long and you’ll be doing a lot of fun activities,” you assure him, kissing his forehead.

He only nods his head, nuzzling himself into Mat’s bare chest. It’s been a while since they’ve had skin to skin contact, so you know they’re both enjoying their time together. Especially since Mat’s been getting busier and busier, you know Nolan needs his time with him.

“I go to sleep,” he whispers and a few minutes later, he’s knocked out in Mat’s arms, his head over his heart.

“Today was amazing,” Mat whispers.

“It was. I’m glad I got a lot of pictures.”

“Remember when I took you out on the ice for the first time? I remember you being scared just like Nols. He reminds me a lot of you,” he says to you.

You scoff and playfully shove at him, careful not to wake your boy.

“That’s funny being that he looks exactly like you, but yes I remember. I had fun then, too.”

“I love you so much, Y/n. Thank you for making me a father.”

“I love you.”

———————————————————————

Luckily, your best friend offered to watch over your two youngest so you and Mat can peacefully take Nolan to his first day of school.

During the car ride there, you sat in the back with him, letting him chatter to get his nerves out. Nothing prepared you for the way he latched onto Mat on the walk over to his classroom. Mat is trying so hard not to cry, his nose pressed in the crook of Nolan’s neck, committing his smell to memory. You’re walking behind them, your hand clutched in your sons.

“Please promise me you’ll be back,” he mutters, sadly, eyes starting to tear up.

“We promise. We’ll be here. We love you so much, Nolan. Have fun and make some new friends,” Mat says, kissing his cheek before letting you pull him into a hug.

“Have fun, baby boy, we’ll see you later,” with that, you part ways with your sons, your hand tightly held in Mat’s.

When you make it back to your vehicle, Mat pulls you into his body, his face burying itself in your neck and his shoulders shaking as he cries.

You run your hands up and down his back, kissing his temple, and letting out a few tears of your own.

“He’s not a baby anymore. Why does this hurt so much?” He mumbles against your skin.

“I know, baby. I’m sad, too. Just yesterday we were bringing him home from the hospital, scared out of our minds. He’s going to do so good, though,” you respond, pulling his head out of your neck to kiss his lips.

“We should get out of here before someone files a complaint about our pda,” Mat teases after spending a few minutes too long kissing you.

“Let’s go cuddle our little ones. We know now that time flies by,” you mutter and Mat agrees.

a/n: This is soooo late so sorry about that. I hope y’all enjoy!!

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

The One I Can Save - Dr James Wilson x peds!reader

description: James needs to assure his love that she can't save everyone, but there's one she's the most worried about saving.

requested: yes - @flowercrowns-goodvibes

word count: 1.7k

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of child death, angst

authors note: I went a bit angsty for the request but I'd already had this as the bones of an idea so I just ran with it! Enjoy!

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN FOR PEDS!READER- request here

*Your pov*

I don’t know how long I’d been sat there. An hour, two hours, maybe even three. I didn’t want to leave. She looked so peaceful. Her eyelids fluttered every so often and as they did, I reached out to calm them again. How could I let this happen? It had been staring me right in the face, but I missed it. I missed her.

I brought my pink sneakers up onto the chair, so my tears were muffled by my scrubs.

“How long does she have?” the velvety tone belonged to the oncologist stood in the door, who’s sympathetic gaze on my defeated frame was the last thing I wanted but also the only thing I needed. He could make this go away. He was the best at what he did, he could fix her. All I wanted was for him to bundle me up in his arms and tell me it was all going to be okay. Even if it was a lie. But I wanted the lie. I needed them to lie to me. Tell me there was nothing I could’ve done, tell me that she was in the best hands. I looked down at my own and shuddered at how much I mistrusted them now.

“Best case scenario, a week? Worst case,” my breath hitched. “Tonight.”

All at once everything flooded out of my heart and echoed in the room as a shriek. James sped into action and clasped me in his arms, in the only way he knew worked. My trembling frame beat against his chest, and I threw my head down next to his heart. The tears seeped into his baby blue shirt, the one I remembered buying him just three days ago. He always looked good in blue. The familiar smell did little to comfort me no matter how hard I tried to bury myself in it. James merely held on tight, afraid that if he let me go, I wouldn’t return. He always thought about all the joy and protection I brought to these children and often wondered who was there to protect me. Well now, he was. And in his arms, I felt at home.

Time passed but it felt like seconds before James was rousing me from the daze I had fallen into.

“Let’s go. Being here, you’re only hurting yourself.” I felt myself go limp, unwilling to face the reality that leaving her bedside would mean. James cradled my hand and supported my waist to lead me out of the girls room. My gaze remained firmly fixed on her closed eyes and I relied on his support to encourage my feet to walk out. I looked exactly like the patients we’d both come to know, being led back to their room, unable to walk on their own. I no longer looked like the omnipotent doctor people loved and respected, instead I was a child being carried back to their room after they fell asleep on the couch.

---

We reached James’ office minutes after. I traipsed in, still caught in a daze. I turned to my boyfriend as he mouthed some words to me, but my brain could not comprehend any sound that came out of his lips.

“What?”

“Sit down.” He lulled. His large hands clasped my shaking shoulders, and he firmly but softly manoeuvred me onto the sofa. As I sunk into the brown leather which had supported my body after many late nights with James in his office, and some other nights as well, he crouched between my thighs. A single finger supported my chin and tilted it up, so my swollen eyes met his.

“Tell me.”

I shrugged with an unconvincing laugh.

“Tell me.”

“What do you want to know?” I continued to laugh but it lacked conviction.

“Everything.” He spoke earnestly. “If it’s in that busy head of yours, I want to know.”

My lips parted but no sound passed through. I couldn’t even look at him. If I looked into those forgiving chocolate pools my resolve would crumble, and most likely my tear ducts too.

“I could’ve stopped it.”

“The tumour had been there for many years. It was malignant. Nothing could have been done except what you did, which was keeping her calm and comfortable.” As he spoke, he ran his fingers through my hair and the tensions in my spine slowly relaxed.

I pushed his hands away.

“But I could’ve spotted it. It was right there!” I giggled with tears in my eyes. At this point I stood up and started to pace. “I took how many MRI’s? Did how many checks.” I let out a gut-wrenching laugh and James flinched witnessing the start of my spiral. “And it was right there! Staring at me. I’m not saying I could’ve cured it, I’m not you!”

James softly smiled seeing how, even in my state, my brain still managed to compliment him.

“But I could’ve told her. Then maybe her parents would’ve made it back from California and that little girl would be surrounded by her loved ones instead of the doctor who failed her!”

My voice raised and James took this as his sign to embrace me again. My wails were muffled by his chest. Eventually we separated once a pat on his chest assured him, I was calm again.

“I told them.” I whispered.

“What, darling?” He pulled back to look at my sunken head.

“I told them to go. Said she’d be fine.”

He took my cheeks in his hands and began to softly rub under my eyes.

“You are not a god. You are human.” He leans in but before our lips could lock, he says “my favourite human.” My giggle gives him permission to complete the kiss.

“You can’t save them all.” He gifts me another kiss.

“I know but if I can’t even look after her how am I supposed to look after this baby-“

It was as if time stood still, our lips merely inches away. James swallowed down the news I had just blurted out.

“Baby?”

“Yes?” I answered with an innocent grin. His hand slid down and felt around for the beginnings of a bump.

“That’s—our baby---my baby?”

“Yes.” I whispered as if saying it any louder would wake them up.

“we’re having a baby?” he said even softer.

“Yes.” I said with much more conviction. There were now tears in both our eyes as I threw my arms around his neck. He grasped my waist as I wrapped my legs around him. We jumped about his office like a couple of teens, just so desperately in love.

James came to his senses and hurriedly placed me back on the couch, scared of even the slightest movement.

“James, please, I’m not fragile.” I sighed at his overprotectiveness.

“Yes, you are,” he said as he looked up into my eyes with his hands still on my bump. “And even if you didn’t have the baby, I would still protect you with my life.”

“Well, it is your job,” I teased, leaning forward to rub my nose against his.

“And it is my favourite job in the world.” He leant up to give me one more kiss. This one deepened and ended up with the two of us intertwined on his couch.

---

*3 months later*

As I picked up the files, my hand unconsciously went to rub the now visible bump. Even as I walked, I couldn’t take my hands off of it. Always reassuring myself she was still there. I made my way to the clinic, ready to put in my hours for the day. I had a love-hate relationship with the clinic. Some days I found it relaxing, simple problems that had simple solutions. With my help these people’s lives could be just that bit easier. But some days it was harder. Harder to hear these grown adults whining about coughs when I had children on my ward who may not see Christmas. But recently, I couldn’t hate anything. Everything seemed to be falling into place. James and I were starting our little family. Tonight, James and I were even shopping for a crib. House insisted on coming with, but James offered him a double prescription of Vicodin if he left us alone. He’d taken the paper before James could even finish speaking. Which meant tonight was just about us two and our little muffin.

“Dr y/l/n, exam room 5.”

“Thank you, Janie.”

I entered the room and stopped in my tracks.

“Mr and Mrs Carter.” Everything came flooding back and I cradled my bump protectively.

“Dr y/l/n” Mr Carter stood up from the seat as his wife gazed out the window.

The parents of the little girl. The little girl who died the night I told James of my pregnancy. The little girl I had lost.

As he approached me, I retreated back towards the door. They were lovely people, but grief changes a person and I knew the lengths I would go to for my own child.

“We wanted to come here today, to thank you.” I paused.

“Thank me?”

“We were worried you would feel guilty, and we just wanted to let you know that you are the last person who should feel any guilt. You took care of our baby when we couldn’t be there and that’s all we can ask for.” Mr Carter held my shoulders to make sure his words registered. “You did a good job.” A loud sob broke through. I hurriedly covered my mouth with my hand. “I thought you might need to hear that.” A laugh joined my tears and I crumbled into the embrace of Mr Carter. He held me with the poise only a father could have. A father without a child.

“We actually came a week ago, but we couldn’t find you.” Mrs Carter finally spoke up and gestured to my protruding bump. “Another doctor told us your news.”

“So, we wanted to come back to give you this.” She gripped something in her hands. As they unclasped and she offered it to me I saw it was a pink knitted onesie.

“It was Katies.” Mrs Carter could barely get through the sentence before it was stopped by an onslaught of sobs. I carefully took the knitwear, unsure of it in my hands.

Mr Carter collected his wife in a hug with such familiarity. He then turned to me and offered me a consoling nod directed towards the pink bundle in my hands.

“We want you to have it. Congratulations.”

[luvrodite]

one night, you were born [918]

cw: afab reader but no mention of pronouns/gender specific names, children, childbirth but no graphic description, parenthood angst, fluff ? jason reminisces about the night your daughter was born

Your baby girl is born on a winter's night. She comes into the world squalling, little face wrinkled and a little slimy until the nurses clean her off, swaddling her in the baby blue blanket the shade of which her uncles had fought over until they'd gone similarly blue in the face.

(Periwinkle wins, much to the smug pleasure of Dick – determined to win her affection despite the fact that she won't be capable of that for much longer.)

Jason, closely approaching the end of his twenties, thinks about the moment he'd been handed her.

He'd remained in the room with you, not leaving your side for a moment, nerves shot to hell. His brothers give him hell for it now, laughing about his near removal from the room when he’d snapped at the doctor after you’d winced – only slightly, in minor discomfort, but it had been enough and he’d been biting out a warning before he could rein it in, your fingers clutching onto him in assurance. 

Baby, you’d gritted through your teeth, cautioning. Stop. I’m fine.

Don’t make me go through this myself, goes unsaid and he feels the fight leave him unthinkingly, sagging. The nurses had stifled a giggle at his compliance, standing down and directing his attention to smoothing a thumb over the back of your hand. Sorry. I’m here.

His heart grows tenfold by nightfall, when his girl is placed into his arms. She’s tiny, is the first thing he thinks, terror gripping his heart. There she is, another piece of his heart laying outside his chest, and he wonders, how am I supposed to live now? 

Her fingers are barely long enough to curl around his pinky, nails even smaller and he finds himself lowering into the seat by the bed, throat closing up with thick affection. You lean over the rail of your bed, tired eyes spilling forth your own happiness openly. Crystalline tears splash down the apples of your cheeks, a sob caught in your throat as you lean a shaky hand forward to run a finger over her crown. 

The photo of the three of you, taken by the nurse, is printed several times. The first, and original, lives in your bedroom where Jason has framed it so it’s the last thing – second only to your face – that he sees before sleep claims him. Rare visitor that it had been in his youth, these days he finds himself slipping into unconsciousness not long after his head meets the pillow, lucky to kiss your brow before he’s out. Fatherhood keeps him busier than ever, and he finds himself wondering if, before, he’d ever troubled Bruce the way his girl gives him a run for his money. The others are scattered about Gotham: his brother’s apartment, Bruce’s wallet (he’d bitten back his heartache at that), a page in an album in Damian’s room. 

Four years pass quicker than he expects them to, and the grief of time passing never gets any easier. His girl is still a small thing, but a far cry from the bundle that had been placed in his arms that winter night. Four years old, she squirms away from both of your arms, little face crinkling as she giggles and twists out of his hold when they’re visiting the manor, too eager to go play in a house far bigger than your modest home. He ignores your knowing, amused grin when he has to bend to set her down, annoyed squeals of “Daddy!” when he pretends to squeeze her tighter, playfully threatening not to let her go. A replica of your eyes stare up at him, narrowed, his nose on a smaller face wrinkled as she attempts her best intimidating glare. 

He heaves a breath, rolling his eyes back at her before he puts her down. The both of you watch her go careening down the hall almost immediately despite your combined warnings, “Don’t run!” “No running!”

You sag into his side.

“At least one of my girls loves me,” he jokes, tugging you closer until you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“Silly,” you mumble, kissing his chin. “Don’t worry, she’ll come back when it’s time to go home and she’s too tired to walk to the car.”

He snorts, hearing Dick in the next room laughing as your daughter chats a mile a minute. “I feel so used. I’m the one who cuts off the crust on her sandwiches and this is what I’m reduced to?”

“You love it.”

He sighs into your neck, grinning when you squirm under the tickle of his breath. “Yeah, guess I do.”

True to your word, when night falls over the manor and she toddles over towards the end of the night to curl up in your lap, it’s Jason that she insists on carrying her to the car. 

“You want Daddy to carry you?” you murmur, tucking her curls behind her ear and she nods, nestled against the crook of your elbow and the arm of the couch. Your eyes flick up to Jason, already alert and waiting, something in the curve of your mouth that whispers, told you. 

There’s a moment when he slips his arm around her back to cradle her to his chest, that Jason feels 25 again. Something about your daughter’s weight, the baby softness of her cheek against his, arms clinging loosely around his neck – it reminds him of that very first night, and something in his chest settles. 

Outside, the snow falls. 

one of the lines for this was inspired by an ask sunnie @fic-over-cannon sent in way back when we were talking about dad jason, and children being pieces of your heart walking outside your body. the words came out without my even thinking, they've stayed with me that long. thank u sun <3

the title is also inspired by a real children's book that i haven't read but made me feel so tender when i saw it - i was choking up at work over a silly little book title because it was so loving and i think kids deserve so much love and it makes me stupidly emotional to think about. anyway. this is unedited sorry if its bad lol

[marslovesdaisies]

Look what you made me do || P.SH

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Minors do not interact.

WC: 3.9 k

Pairing: Mafia!Seonghwa x Mafia!OC

Warnings: Death, murder, violence, gaslighting, manipulation, mafia themes, weapons, angst, gore, eventual smut.

A/N: This is not a single parent!au, rest assured.

Chapter 5

A child.

Hundreds of pictures of a young little girl lined up her phone's vault. It was encrypted, but they were still there. The kid became younger and younger the more I scrolled down to reach the end, and there was nothing else in it. Only the girl. Fuck. Every milestone was there, recorded forever. There were videos too, probably of her first step, her first words, and whatever shit parents liked to record of their children. Iseul was still sitting across me on the chair, pale faced and looking defeated. Her eyes were shining, and she was probably going to cry. She hadn't moved ever since Yeosang had come in. There was nothing else on the phone, he had confirmed. No wonder she didn't want to give her phone away.

I kept staring at the child, trying to look for any facial similarity between Iseul and her. There weren't any stark features, though I couldn't help but think about her eyes. I had seen those eyes. I turned to the stunning woman sitting in front of me, horrified beyond end. "Iseul, you have a child?"

Seonghwa kept staring at me. I didn't answer. I didn't want to. After a moment's pause it was Yeosang who spoke. "Well, I'll leave you both to it then. Remember you're supposed to be down in the meeting room in ten." The door shut behind us, heavy, expectant silence returning. I got up unsteadily as well, fully ready to follow the man out. Not two steps later my hand was wrenched back, legs hitting a small table. Glasses shook with the sheer force of the contact, rattling hard.

"Where do you think you're going?" Seonghwa stepped even closer, invading all the space in front of me and peering down into my face.

"The meeting room, as your boss told us to." "Like hell you are. Answer my question Iseul. Who's the father?" Anger blossomed into my chest, deep and burning. I pressed forward, almost snarling into his face. "That wasn't your question now, was it Park?" "Don't fuck with me right now Iseul. Answer the damn question." "What if I say yes? Huh, Park. What if I say yes? It's my child. I'm the mother. I gave birth to that little bundle of joy." I let it sink in, seeing his expression lose a lot of his anger. "But that isn't what you want to know, is it Park Seonghwa. Why don't you ask me your actual question? Go ahead, admit it. Say it out loud. Ask me what you really want to ask." I jabbed at his chest with my finger. "Ask me, or I won't tell." He quietly stared at me, not a muscle moving on his face. Then a very soft, uncharacteristically vulnerable sound from him. "Is...is she-" "Is she what, Park. Be loud. I can't hear you." His jaw clenched. "Is she mine?" I looked at his face. He looked so fragile and in pain, like he didn't want to hear the answer. "And what if she was?" His face lost all remaining colour. "Fuck, Iseul. Don't fucking kid arou-" "Shut up, Park." I snapped. He actually shut up. The Park Seonghwa actually listened. "What if I say she isn't?" His expression darkened, his grip on my hand tightening. "Don't lie to me Lin." I twisted my hand to shake his grip off, but he held on even more. "Hands off, Park." "Tell me the truth, Iseul. And be very mindful of what you're saying." "Because you won't like it? Can't bear the thought of me sleeping with someone else? Maybe I did. I fucked someone who wasn't you, while I was fucking you. How does it feel, Park? Knowing I opened my legs for someone else? Imagine me screaming their name-" He snarled. Actually snarled. "Shut the fuck up, Lin. Stop fucking talking." He grabbed me by both hands and shook me once, the small table hitting me below my knees as he did. I was heaving, my outburst leaving me without air. But I wanted to see his reaction. I wanted him to lose his cool. I wanted him to feel the terror. I peered at him, and then I laughed. Laughed at his face, his expression, his confusion that was now his main emotion.

"No, Park. She isn't yours. How lucky for you, huh?" "Iseul if you're lying I swear I'll find out and-" "-and then what? Ruin my life? Ruin someone else's life? Ruin her life?" "Don't test it, Iseul. What we had was simply a mutually beneficial arrangement. And it was you who broke it off, might I remind you. Three years later you bring a two year old girl who looks eerily similar so don't you dare be mad at me for thinking I was the father." "As if I'd have a child with you." I quipped. "And shut up, Park Seonghwa. The world doesn't revolve around you, as unbelievable as it may sound." "I'll ask this once. Who is the father, Lin?" "Why do you want to know?" "Just asking." "No thank you. She isn't yours, its one burden off your shoulders. It doesn't affect you in any way who it is, so drop it." "No." I seethed. "What the fuck is your problem, Seonghwa? I said she's not yours. You made it clear that we weren't anything more than and I quote, 'a mutually beneficial arrangement.' She does not concern you. So fucking leave it at that. Take my word for it that you aren't involved, it is someone else's problem. Now leave me alone. I have bigger problems than this." I breathed deeply, pausing my outburst. "Your biggest problem right now is me, princess. I suggest you don't forget that." And he was back to his cold, unforgiving persona. "Don't think that Hongjoong's fake hospitality will save you, Iseul. He isn't a giver." I jerked out of his hold, and this time he let me. "Suggestion duly noted." I massaged my hands a bit, applying pressure on all points that had suffered in the last few hours. He walked to the chair, picking up his suit jacket that he had dropped off earlier in one hand. I stood where I was, waiting for him to get ahead. Seonghwa had suddenly gone unusually quiet, taking quick steps across the long hall while fiddling with his phone. I walked behind him, lost in my own thoughts. There was a ping on his phone that made him pause. I took a step ahead of him outside when an arm suddenly pulled me back in.

"What the fuck, Park?" I yelped as I crashed into a solid chest, feeling the heat radiate off him. He twisted me back so I was facing him, and I was ready to go at him again when I caught his expression. His eyes had darkened, jaw set, face triumphant as he held his phone held in one hand.

"You aren't the mother, are you Iseul?" I took a step back as he walked closer to me, ready to bolt at any chance. "What?" He looked terrifying in his cold, merciless, beautiful smile that spanned his face. My hands tried to reach back, finding the door knob, my flight or fight response choosing the former. "I said, you aren't the mother of the child. She isn't mine, but she's not yours either, is she?" I froze. "Why would you think-" "Shh. Just shh." He whispered softly, his tone sending shivers down my spine. His breath caressed my neck as he walked closer and closer into me. "Don't talk, Iseul. Not right now." He breathed in a low tone as his lips crashed into mine, hands caging me completely as the sheer force made me go flat against the wall.

The meeting room Hongjoong had ordered us all into was more of a sitting room, sofas lining up in the center and similar chairs scattered in strategic positions. I walked behind Seonghwa. Neither of us had said a thing since leaving the chamber. I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my lips, which I was trying my hardest to forget. I had spent the walk here collecting and reorganizing myself, trying to think of a plan of action. Given my current state of mind and inability to look at Seonghwa after what had happened, it was safe to say that I was miserably failing in my attempts.

We had been the last ones to enter the room. Park hardly gave me a glance as he picked a spot, pointedly away from his boss. I claimed one as well, six sets of eyes on me. Seonghwa wasn't looking at me, and Kim Hongjoong was looking at his underboss.

"Where are we?"

"Still in the city, rest assured." A new yet familiar voice spoke up as Jaemin entered, glancing at his watch. "I apologize for being late, my lady." My lip curled. "Bang! You had me believe that you'd died in the hallway." Jaemin laughed. "Aah Lin. You don't give me enough credit. Remember what I told you back in the holding room?" I did. His warning hadn't left me, though things had changed a lot now. "Sure. So do you answer my questions today or...?" I froze, hoping nobody would notice. I turned my attention back to the eight. "Well?"

"How long before the twins are unleashed?" The little humour left my face. "Do you mean the twins, or do you mean my uncle?" The question about Daesung and Daewon had been asked by Yunho, meaning the others were also involved now. His face didn't change. "Isn't it the same?" No, it wasn't. But they didn't have to know that. "Depends. How long have I been here?" "You don't need to know that to answer the question, princess." "Watch it, Jeong. You're taking it too far." He stared back, one second. Two seconds. Three. "Answer his question, Lin. You can be out of here sooner." I looked at Seonghwa, who still hadn't said anything. "Alive?" I taunted. His muscle twitched, sign that he was indeed aware of what was happening. The twins hadn't probably been alerted yet. Especially since that dickhead Renjun was involved. He must've done something to delay their response. I cursed internally. That little shit had taken it too far. You are taking it too far, his voice echoed back. Maybe I was, who knew.

"Lin." This time it was Seonghwa. "You can do it the easier way by cooperating, or the hard way." He reached into his pocket, getting a flashdrive out. "This has all instances of your family and their men following my members. Proof and footage of your cousin discussing deals with port operators on our territory. One of your fuckbuddies picking up informants off the street. Footage of you trespassing on Lee's property, listed under sealed government zones. Do you want me to go on?" "What proof do you have that you haven't done the same?" I raised my brow. "Well, I am not the one caught red handed being in places I shouldn't be in." "He sent me an invitation." I shot back. "You forged it." "What? No why would I-". It all clicked in place for me in an instant. It all made sense now. Why those men outside the door yesterday hadn't been surprised to see me, the crispness of the text. Seonghwa had forged it all on my behalf, including the text. "You fucker-" I seethed. "You're blackmailing me. Surely that's an offense in everybody's book, regardless of which side you are on. And my only crime is being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You can't hold me here for that. You don't have any proof against me." "Sure. Lets propose an exchange offer then. Tell your family to give up the culprit. I'll let you go in return for having the actual perpetrator in this chair." I almost blanched. Seonghwa knew he had got me. In no alternate reality was my family going to give up one of our own. He'd planned it all. It sounded ridiculous, even in my head. Who was going to propose a swap? If I was innocent, my family could demand retribution. But Hongjoong could simply use the flashdrive to demand other culprits, mainly Jun. I gripped the chair harder. Maybe I should give him up, he'd survive. I glanced back up. "How do I know that the drive isn't empty?" "Are you denying the contents then?" "That wasn't my question. What if it's a bluff from your side? I don't really trust you, given the circumstances." An emotion passed his face, quick to vanish underneath his mask. "It is filled, I can assure you. Getting proof of your lies is easier than you'd think, as you have already found out." I clenched my teeth. "I have years worth of material, Lin. You don't have the upper hand here." "We'll see about that." I muttered. But he was right, I was most likely stuck here. Especially with the proof attached, uncle and father both would be stuck trying to figure out how to deal with it. I couldn't concede more ground than we already had. "Why me then? You could've gone after anyone. You could've taken one of the twins, even both. You could've taken even Jun. Surely he's a more attractive catch than me." "Downplaying yourself, Lin?" My eyes turned to Wooyoung. "Woo, come on. You must know of all people that I am not involved. Tell your second-in-command here," I motioned at Seonghwa, "that he's grossly overestimating things here." Soenghwa's face twisted with malice. "Woo?" He turned to Wooyoung. "Come on Woo, tell me what she wants you to." Wooyoung gave him a blank look. "If you have something to say, out with it Hwa." Hongjoong still was looking at Seonghwa. They clearly weren't seeing eye to eye right now, but that was a fact I was going to exploit later.

"You didn't answer my question. Why pick me?" Seonghwa finally spoke to me, still not looking at his leader. "Do you remember the enchantress?" I shuddered at his question. "The broker? Of course. Who doesn't?" Seonghwa nodded. "How much do you know about her?" This was clearly a bait. "That she was guessed to be a woman. Apart from that, as much as the other person. Nobody knows much about her." I looked at Jaemin. His warnings had started to make a lot of sense. Fuck, I hadn't realized that the woman was involved in this. "What does she have to do with this?" "You already know, most of Jong In's confidence in himself came from the sheer amount of information he could obtain." It was true, but I waited for him to continue. "Well, his confidence grew with each passing day, and he made a gamble he could not sustain. He faced a lot of fallouts and had to give up some especially heavy leverage, breaching a lot of his contracts including yours and ours. Then there was the 'incident' with his son. But you already know all of this." I nodded slowly, seeing clearly where this was heading.

"Now, Iseul. " Seonghwa's voice deepened even further. He was almost growling at me, his face reflecting an unknown victory. Warning sirens played in my head like ominous music. "Your uncle decided it was adequate for the traitor to be tried for his dishonour. But he never managed to live till his judgement, did he?" I kept my face blank. "What are you implying? I did something? I can swear on my life that you had ordered a hit on Lee Jong In before I even found out where he was that night, Park Seonghwa. You wanted him dead, whatever the method might have been." He pursed his lips. An awkward silence had engulfed us, all of them giving surprised glances towards the man of the moment. It was however Jongho who spoke up, the youngest man having been silent the whole time I had been here. "How do you know that?" I didn't want to think about how I knew. Seonghwa and I knew each other years ago, under very different circumstances. I'd happened to overhear a phone call that he did not know about. However, I wasn't telling them that. "It is my job to know everything about a potential hostility." "Is that how you really found out?" Hongjoong sounded silently amused, his gaze occasionally darting back and forth towards Seonghwa and me. "What does the Enchantress have to do with this?" "Patience, princess. I was getting to that. Tell me, your uncle wanted Lee to be stripped of his credibility, a sort of character assassination. But someone from your upper ranks wanted it to be more brutal and final. Was that Renjun or you, and more importantly, why?"

I kept silent for a moment. This was no longer about me. "You have some balls, Park Seonghwa, for assuming for one fucking moment that I was going cooperate with you, proof or not." I hit back at him. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but I promise you this. I'll enjoy seeing you try to get answers out of me."

"You mean none of you went after him as an organization, but you took him out on your own."

San had spoken up. Of course he had. He must have been bidding his time, trying to find an opportunity to fuck me up at the worst possible moment. Now that he had started that line of questioning, Seonghwa would soon find out about Mirah. My hand started trembling slightly and I gripped it tight to stop it from showing. There was no doubt that Seonghwa had noticed it, along with the others. Thankfully, for the time being he didn't comment on it.

"As I was saying," Seonghwa continued, seemingly ignoring San's jab, "the Enchantress disappeared soon after Jong In did. Can't say I miss that demon, but the incidents are clearly related. Word on the street-" he pulled his sleeve down on his wrist in a theatrical manner. "-is that he was her last contract, after which she left. Or got killed. Whichever. Nobody knew how she looked like so it was even worse. But you, Iseul, you know who she was didn't you?" I was going to have a heart attack. Just how much resources had he spent spying on me? Nobody knew. Nobody could have betrayed me. But he wasn't yet done speaking. My stomach dropped. "But it is expected of you isn't it, Lin Iseul, as the third in command?"

"How long have you known?"

Seonghwa looked at me. "An answer for an answer." "Oh I'll give you an answer-" I half rose from my chair but Jaemin's hand gently but firmly pushed me back down. "I suggest you don't fight this one, my lady." I kept glaring at Seonghwa, who was smug and gleeful in this stature. There had been a few involuntary gasps when he first gave away my identity but all of them had recovered fairly quickly, now eyeing me as a threat instead of a prisoner. His taunting eyes had flames dancing in them, not taking his gaze off me.

"Let me get this straight, Park. You spent years worth of organization's resources tailing me, hunted down my methods, collected evidence for blackmail, forged a plan with a dead man to lure me into a trap, all because you couldn't be careful with your business in the first place, and right under your boss's nose? " I laughed. "Park Seonghwa, are you in love with me? I can see why you wanted to have this conversation alone. Getting all vulnerable, admitting mistakes, your ego could never."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you princess?" His voice brought back memories. Memories of him when he was a bit more kind. No, scratch that. He'd always been ruthless. He'd been kinder to me. Kinder and closer, but I had lost all of it when I'd lost Mirah. I pursed my lips at the memory of her, haunting images of broken skulls threatening to undo my composure. Seonghwa had walked closer to me while I was lost in my head. He picked up a spot and lounged on a chair, head thrown back. His neck muscles strained, the column of his throat exposed. He looked just as delicious as I last remembered him. I shook my head internally, realizing I was staring. He looked back up.

"But no, that is not why I took the efforts of dedicating so much time to you. I did it because you, my darling Iseul, went rogue." "Huh?" "Don't play dumb now. You went off the rails after the son died. You went after anyone and everyone at random, starting with Lee. You sabotaged deals under truce on your whims. Your father and uncle protected you, but that wasn't your greatest strength, was it? You had the Enchantress doing all your dirty work. Nobody else could get in and out of such situations without leaving a trace. And then the demoness disappeared. Most people still believe that the broker took one last stand before going down, but it wasn't her at all. It was you." He stared at his nails for a second before continuing. "Now, I'd like to believe that someone as smart as you wouldn't just forget her senses in a hotel room, so I did a bit of digging. And guess what, I found something very interesting." I think I had already dissociated from reality. I looked up at him, and for a moment I could see surprise lighting up in his eyes. Not being able to bear eye contact, I looked away again. Of course he had found out, and of course he'd be disclosing it. There was no point asking him to shut up.

"A buried report."

My world tilted on its axis. My stomach felt like it was upside down. Lee's son had died for that bundle of papers. I had died for that bundle of papers. Seonghwa had made a grave mistake. I was going to come at him, even if it cost me my life.

"A report that you spent a fortune making sure did not exist, along with the existence of the person who filed it. A report on the supposed car accident of one Cheon Mirah, declared dead on the way to the hospital." There was a sudden spike of another presence in the room. I knew who it might have been, though I just hoped that Wooyoung would manage to calm San down.

"Upon further enquiry, you made them declare her dead prematurely, while in actuality she had been alive for a few hours after the said time of death. Sadly, another woman had to die in the same night later on, but she didn't even exist, did she?"

Seonghwa moved towards me, getting a small bunch of papers from his jacket again. But he was interrupted in between, the copy of the file I supposed snatched from his hands by a seething Choi San. Pure, unadulterated fury marred his face as he read and reread every page in his hands. And then he looked at me.

"How, dare you." Was all he said before his gun was out in his hands, aimed straight at my head.

A/N: I'll edit this later. Happy reading!

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {Epilogue}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: The end. :) Thank you for reading! We've appreciated all the love and support. I'm hoping to start posting a new project soon. Stay tuned!

~ Cassian ~

“What the hell are you doing?!”

I freeze, blinking, and slowly slide my eyes to where Nesta is standing at the kitchen’s threshold, gaping at me.

“What?”

“You can’t have her that close to the stove! What if she catches on fire?!”

I look down to where Evelyn is strapped to my chest, swaddled in the cotton wrap that leaves only her face popping out, her little cheek squished against my chest. She’s sleeping, snoring softly, and perfectly content.

“Nes.” I give my beautiful wife a look as I desperately try not to roll my eyes. “She’s three weeks old. What’s she going to do? Fling herself into the pot?” Nesta opens her mouth to protest, but I go on. “There’s only one burner on, and it’s on low, and it’s the back burner, and I’m letting it simmer. I’m just giving it a quick stir. I can assure you that no infant will be harmed in the stirring of this sauce that will blow your fucking mind. Calm down.”

As soon as those two little words leave my mouth, I know I fucked up. Backtrack. Rewind. The spoon in my hand stills as I clear my throat, scared to even look in her direction. “And…by ‘calm down’...I mean…I love you.”

She approaches, her footsteps light, and she stops beside me. “Be glad I love you too or I’d be tossing your balls into that pot right about now.” 

Pain. I feel physical pain at those words. Cringing, I set down the spoon and turn to face her. She’s not looking at me at all, but at the little bundle of joy we brought home three weeks ago. Nesta’s eyes are soft as she leans down and presses a soft kiss to Evelyn’s forehead. 

We were instantly in love. From the moment she was given to us, we knew that we were meant to be her parents. It’s hard as hell, raising an infant, and although it’s only been three weeks and I know it’s going to get a hell of a lot harder, I have never felt so fucking blessed. 

“Everyone should be getting here soon,” Nesta says, quietly, eyes meeting mine at last. She reaches up onto her toes and kisses me, softly. 

Rhys, Feyre, Azriel, and Elain were all in the waiting room at the hospital when Evelyn was born, but we haven’t seen them since. They’ve given us space to settle into our new roles, into this new life we’ve built for ourselves. The solitude, although necessary and beautiful, has been driving us a little crazy, though. Two days ago, Nesta came to me in tears, partly out of exhaustion, I’m sure, and told me she needed her sisters.

So tonight, I made dinner. 

Evelyn is in a pretty good routine and will most likely sleep for the rest of the night, only waking up to eat, but she can sleep anywhere. I have no doubt we’ll be passing her around so that everyone can get their baby fix. 

They all arrive together, six on the dot, and we greet each other as if we haven’t been all together in years instead of a matter of weeks. I don’t even care that the food has gone cold by the time we sit around the table, too much time being spent doting over the baby for it to stay warm. 

Even cold, it’s delicious, I must say. We eat and talk and laugh, and tell them all about every little detail of the last three weeks. Nyx is smitten most of all, wanting to sit next to his cousin at all times and hold her hand. He’ll be a fantastic big brother and I can’t help but wonder if Rhys and Feyre will have more kids. I know Rhys wants a house full, but he’s not the one doing the hard work. 

Once we’re full and the table has been cleared, we get comfortable in the living room. Elain is holding Evelyn while Azriel rocks a sleeping Sera. I’m convinced the two of them will be best friends and will most likely raise hell together. 

I can’t wait. But then again, yes I can, because she’s so sweet and innocent in this newborn stage that I don’t want that to change. Then again, I can’t wait to watch her grow, to see all those milestones and watch her grow into her own person. 

“Careful, dad, you’re getting teary-eyed,” Nesta whispers, leaning into me and patting my knee. 

I chuckle and pull her closer. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

Nesta rests her head on my shoulder. “Liar.” 

She’s right. It was a lie. I’m overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with love and contentment. We worked so hard to be where we’re at and although it’s not how we originally imagined, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d endure every bout of heartache all over again that led us here, to this, to her. 

Nesta.

Evelyn.

I watch as our family loves on our daughter, watch as our little circle becomes whole. I had dreamt of this, we both had for so long. The fact that it’s now reality is unreal. I feel like I’m dreaming and the fact that I’m not, yes…has me on the verge of tears. 

One must slip past my defenses because Nesta reaches up and wipes her thumb across my damp cheek. 

No one comments on my crying and I feel zero shame. There is no shame in being unimaginably happy. 

“Now I have two cousins,” Nyx says from where he’s climbing onto Rhys’ lap. He scrunches his nose. “When will I have boy cousins? Or a brother? There’s too many girls.”

Rhys laughs quietly. “These girls are going to grow up to kick your butt if you keep talking like that. Especially with these two brutes as their fathers.” 

Azriel snorts. “Cass will have Evie lifting weights daily by the time she’s two. She’ll probably be able to kick my butt.” 

Nyx laughs at this, head thrown back, his giggles loud. 

We stay sitting, talking, reminiscing until even Nyx is snoring soundly in his father’s arms. By the time we finally say goodnight, I’m spent. Exhausted. Can hardly keep my eyes open.

But I don’t care.

Sleep is irrelevant when everything has fallen into place, when every time your eyes are open you feel like nothing can go wrong. We’ve already had our heartbreak, have already faced our trials, and although I’m not naive and know that trials will still come…

I know, without a doubt, that everything will be okay. 

I’m sliding into bed as Nesta lays Evelyn in her bassinet next to her side of the bed. I watch as she stares at our daughter, knowing her heart is bursting with pride and love, mirroring my own. I lay down quietly, my eyes remaining on the outline of her frame in the darkness. 

“She’s perfect, Cass,” she whispers, and those damn tears return. 

“Yeah,” I agree, quietly. “She is.”

She climbs into bed and snuggles up close to me, my arms going around her without a thought. We close our eyes, quickly drifting into the four hours of sleep we’ll be getting, at most, before the soft cries of a newborn fills our silent bedroom. 

Sleep is irrelevant.

Our daughter is perfect.

My wife is the love of my life.

And I am whole. 

[utterlyazriel]

My heart skiped when I saw notification for new chapter wtssf

You made me so happy 😄🥰

I asked you the other day will we have interaction with Azriel or his POV, and what can I say I liked this chapter...

"I can assure you that Azriel will punish himself for far longer and far harsher than you ever will. I've known my brother a long time. If there anyone who understands the gravity of his actions and will torture himself over them, it's Azriel.""

This my favourite part,this is probably why I like reading about Azriel and his POV, so angsty, bit also it makes you so glad when it gets to the part where he can accept he deserves love, when he can forgive himself...

And I am so glad Casian is someone who said this to her, I like that he sees her and Azriel and knows something happend, and can like understand both their sides. She has a right to be hurt and feel betrayed but also when it feels right they have to FACE each other. Ooooo i like this, in a situation like this two people can lose each other if no one makes action towards talking with each and understanding both sides oooooo. Like in this story they are mates they aint losing each other but like just in life hahaha.

Thank you if you read all of this, I saw once you siad you like when people point out what they liked how they feel so here you go😄

to add at the end YOU ARE SO TALENTED, (it makesme feel hesitant to send you this, you with your magnificent 😉 writing reading something I wrote in my second language hahahahaha

HELLLLLLOOOOOO LOVELY LONG ASK 🥹😭 I'M SO SPOILED U SPOIL ME !! firstly, psh, your english is fantastic and i'm incredibly envious of your brains ! i wish i could speak another language!

i'm so so overjoyed that this series still makes people happy 🥺 and yes, i hoped you wouldn't be disappointed after you asked that! i was looking over the chapter like omfg is it enough... but i'm so pleased to hear it lives up to expectations.

and you're sooo right, azriel is just a bundle of angst and it's so satisfying to read, knowing he's got the most domestic happy fluffy times ahead :D

and yes! we love cassian! he's being so smart bout the whole thang. he can tell that you'll be stubborn enough to never bridge the gap and that azriel will never forgive himself and reach out first and he's like yeah nuh uh. not on my freaking watch. i haven't even decided if cassian can tell if they're mates yet i can't tell if it would be funnier if he has no clue (he hasn't seen them interact yet so it's unlikely i would say)

i do so so love when people point at things they specifically liked so thank you thank you thank you <3 please never feel hesitant, every time i get a message like this i get inspired to write more! mwah mwah mwah mwah (all my kisses)

[ohdeersthings]

Clouds of Rain

Neteyam X F!Reader

Part 3 of Clouds Series

Summary: Everyday you and Neteyam get closer, but now he's seen a side you want to hide

Warning: Toxic parents, a little angst, fluff moments between Neteyam and Reader, Neteyam and Reader are eyeing eachother 👀❤️

When the day had started, distant sounds of thunder echoed around the forest. Shadows crept across the moss covered floor as a storm rolled in. Many Na'vi relished in the rain, the prosperity it brought to the food and animals almost seemed mystical, but to you it brought a sorrow.

You weren't allowed out of your families tent on stormy days, even though you were seen as a grown adult, you were unmated, uncourted, so therefore, still a child in your parents eyes.

You longed for the sunshine and blue skies, but Eywa seemed to want a day of rest and restoring water to the cycle of life. "(Y/N)! Come here at once!" Your mother's voice cut through your day dream as you stared out into the vast mist of rain in the distance.

You stood from your position and walked with small steps to your mother. Your youngest sibling, a boy the age of three, sat in her lap fast asleep. You wished you could curl up like that, remembering the days she would coo at you and kiss you sweetly, that changed when more siblings came along and suddenly you couldn't do anything right in her eyes.

Kneeling in front of her, she spoke,"You are to go get us some fruit from the gathering circle, be quick, you are to come straight back, do you understand," her tone left no answer needed, it was a demand.

You nodded, going to stand but her hand tightly grapsed your wrist, pulling you back around to face her, her dull yellow eyes hard. "Answer me girl!" "Yes mama," you quietly spoke, eyes meeting her face but not her eyes, she hated when you looked at her in the eyes.

Releasing you, she waved you off and you quickly turned and hurried out. It wasn't usual for Na'vi to be abusive to their children, yet it wasn't unheard of. Your parents just happened to check every mark there was, verbal, emotional, mental, and physical. It just depended on their mood of the day to determine how your day would end.

Reaching the gathering circle, you picked the nicest looking fruit that you hoped would appease her rath, you began to walk back with it bundled in your arms, only to run smack into another person.

The fruit got squashed between both bodies, the juice sticking to your arms, chest and stomach, your mouth slightly open in shock. That was unexpected, but then again you were rushing with your head down.

"Oh Great Mother, I'm sorry!" Neteyams voice made you jolt up to meet his eyes, his face worried as he realized he ran into you. Just another foolish episode it seemed.

"(Y/n)! I'm so sorry, let me help you," Neteyam reached down to grab the fruit, but it unsavable at that point. You covered your mouth with a soft laugh, not wanting to upset the man in his rush to help you.

"Its alright Neteyam, no harm done," you assured, a smile gracing your lips. Neteyam was a light in your gray world, he could do no wrong in your eyes. The thought of the fruit left your mind, now focused solely on spending time with Neteyam.

"Come," you helped him up, his words stumbling over each other as he tried to figure out how to help, "B-but your fruit? Let me, let me help," you shook your head, waving it off, "There will be more fruit, but let's go get washed up," he let you drag him away, the fruit left forgotten on the floor.

Mother would not be happy later.

~.~

Laughing as you two walked up the edge of the village where vases of water sat, you let go and approached the water. Cupping your hands together, bringing the cool water to your face and neck, you breathed in a sigh of relief and shut your eyes, the water doing good to help rid the sticky fruit and seeds that stuck to your skin.

Neteyam allowed his eyes to trace over each water droplet that ran down your soft skin, going where only his eyes could imagine and where he wished he could touch too. Oh to be envious of water.

"Aren't you going to wash up?" Your soft voice broke his concentration, eyes looking to your face and seeing your glowing green eyes staring at him with your eyelids lowered, a look you weren't trying to give him but his thoughts quickly wondered and this caused him to rush forward, almost dunking his head into the water to cool himself off.

You giggled, having noticed his look from before and allowed your own eyes to slowly rake over his flushed body. His years of training doing wonders for him, the muscle and strength he held made your tail flick a few times before you willed it to stop and wrap around your leg.

"I am sorry, for ruining your fruit," Neteyam wiped his face of water, looking down at you though you smiled.

That pretty smile made him weak.

"Its alright, there will be more fruit later," you looked up at him, "let me make it up to you," he offered, though you grew confused. How would he make it up to you? Why did he feel the need? It was only a few pieces of fruit, surely you could replace it on your own.

"Oh? How?" You asked, arms crossing and staring at him intrigued, your hip jutting out a little causing him to gulp, trying to focus back on you as a whole.

"That's for me to worry about, now, let's go grab you some more fruit," he placed a small kiss to your head as he walked by, your face flushing as you trailed after him.

It was true you had kissed him before, a few weeks ago before he took you flying on his Ikran, but since then it had only been longing stares and a few light touches. A whisper here and there in the others ear, both of you too scared to ruin what you had going on. Scared that your realities would be crushed by the world if the true feelings were spoken out into the air.

~.~

Arriving back at the gathering circle, Neteyam grabbed new fruit to replace the ones he messed up, placing only one in your arms and he carried the rest.

"Oh no, Neteyam I can carry It really," you begged, not wanting him to follow you home. Not to the horrors that may await you. "Nonsense, allow me to help you, it was my fault," he grinned, not picking up on your worried tone.

It seemed he didn't have to, for your father's voice cut throught the air like a knife. "(Y/n)!" His deep, growl like voice caused you to freeze, Neteyam frowning when he saw the fear plaster on your now pale face. His eyes glanced behind you where two figures were appearing.

"Papa," you greeted, turning where the tall, brooding Na'vi man stood. He was one of the best hunters in the clan, your younger brother, only three years younger than you, trailing behind him with a small, smug look.

Your brother quite enjoyed when you got in trouble, but that's only because he himself didn't have to bare your father and mother's disapproving gaze.

"What are you doing? Your mother has been waiting and here you are, goofing off and laying around like you always do," Your fathers eyes made you shrink, head down into your shoulders hoping to disappear.

Neteyam placed himself between you both, chest puffing up to match your father. He didn't like how dull your eyes got, he hated how you tried to shrink instead of stand tall. "The fault is mine, sir, take it up with me. Leave your daughter out of this," Neteyam hissed, his tail lashing at the thought of what this man would say or do to you, his own child.

Your Father seemed to realize who he now faced, eyes narrowing suspiciously as they darted between Toruk Maktos oldest son, the future leader of the clan and his own child, his only daughter and oldest child.

The way the young man stood in front of you, challenging him to dare say another word had your father ask,"Who are you to tell me how to talk to my daughter? Have you courted her, mated with her," he knew the answer, but your father wanted to prove a point.

"No sir, but the fault is mine. I caused her to drop fruit and helped to clean her up, so any qualms you have you can deal them with me right now," Neteyam promised, knowing that the fact you two really weren't together stung, but he would defend you no matter what. He loved you that much.

It seemed as though Eywa had a saving grace, his own father, Jake Sully, appeared. "What's going on here?" Jake looked narrow eyed to the hunter in front of him, he knew (F/N) well, the man was very strict and harsh, but one of the best hunters to the clan.

You rushed forward, tired of all the arguing and not wanting a whole fight to break out. "Neteyam was helping me with fruit, I was clumsy and dropped it," you spazzed through your words, not turning to meet either Sully mens eyes behind you, focusing on your father instead, scared of what he would say more or do.

"I'm sorry Papa, I will be more careful from now on," Your father didn't want to cause a bigger scene infront of his Olo'eyktan, so he called for your brother to take the fruit who glared at you as if you had asked him instead of your father. "We will speak at home," your father leaned down close and threatened, eyes of green, though darker than your own, stared right through you. His words a silent threat that more than talking will be done at home.

"Yes Papa," you submitted, ears pulled back in fear and humiliation. Fear of what your father would do. Humiliation that Neteyam had to witness you like this.

Your Father and brother stomped away, your shoulders tense as you turned to see both men staring at you sadly.

"Thank you for helping me Neteyam, I'll see you around," you hurried out, words like mush as you trailed off into the direction your family had gone to.

"(Y/n)-" Neteyam reached out, but his father's hand on his shoulder stopped him, a huff of defeat in his lips as you disappeared from view.

"Give her some space, (F/n) is not one to mess with, getting her in more trouble may not be a wise case," Jake instructed, Neteyam clicking his tongue in annoyance and anger.

"(Y/n) shouldn't be suffering with them! It was my fault that the fruit fell, she shouldn't have to pay for that," he felt himself become hostile every second that passed, now beginning to pace in front of his father.

"(Y/n) deserves to be free! She is a grown woman, not a pet or a child!" He cried, Neteyam turning his body, eyes gazing after your invisible figure one last time.

"She so gentle, I want to watch her float on the clouds, not be tied down," Neteyam whispered.

~.~

Taglist: (there is a lot of yall 🤣)

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@honeyluvsblog @blairrrrrr @heluvsst4rgir1

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Worries {Steve Harrington}

Prompt: "Do you love her?"

Character: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings; Angst

Steve snored lightly from beside you, frowning in his sleep. You smiled, rolling over to watch him for a while. He looked so peaceful as he slept. You leaned in close, ready to kiss him to wake him up, when he uttered one word that sent your heart plummeting.

"Nancy..."

You stopped. It was the utterance of a single word that shattered everything. You couldn't help it when tears welled in your eyes and you couldn't help the overwhelming pang of sadness and jealousy that hit you square in the heart.

Steve and Nancy had dated for a while and you knew that he had been in love with her. First loves weren't easy to get over, you understood that, but Steve had assured and reassured you so many times that he didn't feel anything for her now; that he was one hundred percent over her and he loved you now. You believed him. Steve was perfect, he was attentive and kind and he was everything you could've wanted and more. You also knew that dreams were just dreams. You'd had plenty of crazy dreams with people you didn't care about but as soon as he murmured her name, all of those insecurities came flooding back to you.

Honestly, you should've woken him up then and asked him about it but it was you and you let emotions control you sometimes so instead, you grabbed your clothes and snuck out of Steve's house. You knew that it was silly, you knew it was better to face your problems head on but there was a worry of your floating around your head that you were too scared of the answer to stick around and hear.

Does he still love her?

Hours later, Steve had tried calling you over and over but each time you just had your mom tell him that you were busy. Frustrated with the lack of response, Steve decided to visit you. He usually would've knocked on the front door but he knew that if you'd told your mom, she would turn him away so instead, he opted to climb up the pipe and into your bedroom.

As you lay in bed, eyes full of tears as you stressed about it, you heard a small tap on the window. You turned to see your doting boyfriend, Steve Harrington, looking at you confused through the glass. You couldn't exactly turn him away now so with a deep breath, you stood up and opened the window letting him inside your bedroom.

"What the hell is going on?" He asked, frowning, as he clambered in, "First you leave my house before I wake up then next I'm trying to get a hold of you all day and you're apparently 'too busy'. What's going on (y/n)?"

Despite yourself, you broke down then. Anxiety bubbled in your stomach and you just couldn't handle the stress anymore. Steve was quick to bundle you in his arms and take you to bed. He kicked off his shoes before laying down with you.

"You were sleep-talking," you sniffed as you lay on his chest, "and you said something during your sleep."

"What did I say?" Steve asked.

Your bottom lip wobbled as you looked up at him, "Nancy," you whispered, "You said 'Nancy'."

Steve frowned, "Oh..." He paused for a moment, "Well that doesn't mean anything-"

"Doesn't it?" You asked sharply, "What if it means the opposite? What if it means everything?!"

He shook his head, tendrils of his perfect hair falling out of place, "I assure you, babe, it means nothing. I don't even remember what I was dreaming about in the first place but I know it wasn't half as bad as what you think it is." He pulled you in tighter, "Is this why you've been so upset? Is that why you're avoiding me?"

"Do... Do you love her?"

His face fell as he looked at you. He could see how worried you were; could see the fear in your eyes and the sadness on your face, "Oh baby, no. I don't love Nancy anymore. I love you. I don't know what dream me was thinking but he's an idiot okay? You have to trust me," he pulled up your hand to press gentle kisses to your soft skin, "It's only you for me."

You released a breath you didn't know you were holding as your worries began to fade away. You knew the whole thing was silly but sometimes, humans were silly; they think silly things and do silly things when they're in love.

"I'm sorry," he said and he was so sincere with it, "I love you, (y/n). No one else, I promise. Do you forgive me?" Silently, you nodded against him as he pulled you in tight, "Good... Waking up without you there was awful please never do it again." Gently, he tilted your face up to look at him with his thumb on your chin, "I love you."

"I love you, too... I'm sorry."

He shook his head, "You got nothing to apologise for but please, baby, if you're ever worrying or having a self-conscious moment please just talk to me about it... Don't let it fester. Don't let it stress out my beautiful baby. Deal?" You nodded, the slightest of smiles quirking your lips upwards, "I'm gonna kiss you now." And he did as promised, his kiss soft and sweet, exactly the kind of thing that you needed just now.

[luna-writes-stuff]

Motion Sickness, Xu Shangqi

Yes, I wrote this out self projection. I myself have a very weak stomach and can therefor very easily and quickly catch motion sickness.

For those interested about what motion sickness is and what it means for me: Quick story of it, my stomach cannot stand a lot of motion, especially when my brain is unaware of the direction my body is moving in. I get nauseous and light headed and just feel the bile rising up in my throat. So when I go on long car rides for vacation and I cannot see the navigation, I could easily throw up in the car in a matter of seconds. When I sit on the wrong side of the car, I get sick. When I look anywhere else but outside in the car, I get sick. When the car is taking turns instead of driving straight ahead, I get sick. It’s really annoying and it’s still something I struggle with a lot. I get it on amusement rides, rollercoasters, boats; even when I just move around to quickly or too much. So when I was watching that scene in Shang-Chi where they drive to Ta Lo, all I could think about was how terrible I would’ve been in that situation. And it inspired me to write this (stupid as it may sound.) Yes, I am aware there is medication for this, but it happens a lot of the times and would I keep using and buying it, I would spend way more money than I actually need to. I only use it for long car rides and boat trips.

Fanfic, female! reader

Fluff, bit of angst

Tw: SPOILERS, motion sickness, description of nausea, lightheadedness, description of vomiting, rising temperature, half consciousness, self projected, description of losing consciousness (but not really), Shang-Chi being worried, established relationship, use of Y/N. Also, I could not find the script anywhere, so half of the dialogue is probably wrong.

Summary: When escaping Wenwu’s home, you join the ride to Ta Lo, even as you are aware that you get severe motion sickness in cars and most definitely will end up throwing up later. Shang-Chi knows this and tries to help, but you can’t talk nausea out of someone. Upon arriving in Ta Lo, you’re barely conscious and Shang-Chi gets concerned.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Shang-Chi asked, as you sat outside the car you just escaped in.

The ride from Wenwu’s home had been difficult to say the least. You got very nauseous in car rides, and you knew that, yet you wanted to be there for Shang-Chi when he would travel to his mother’s village. It was already clear it was not going to be an easy journey, but you insisted on joining the ride.

At the moment, you were catching some fresh air after the eventful car ride earlier. You forced your nausea down, smiling up at Shang-Chi.

“Oh yeah. I’ll be fine.” You assured, standing up and taking a deep breath in.

“You know you don’t have to come along.” He tried again, but you ignored his offer.

“I said I’ll be fine.” You insisted, walking back towards the car. Shang-Chi let out a sigh of defeat before opening the door to the passenger seat.

“Actually, Trevor was going to sit there. Seeing as he kind of holds the information and stuff.” Katy said, gesturing towards the man behind you two.

“He can do that from the back.” Shang-Chi said, but you shoo’d him, opening the door behind the passenger seat.

“I can sit here too.” You announced, sitting down before your boyfriend could say anything about it.

“Y/N-“ “Don’t Y/N me.” You interrupted. “If I get sick, it’s my own damn fault.”

He groaned before stepping in on the other side, his sister seated between the two of you.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, looking towards you with a worried glance.

“She gets sick in car rides.” Shang-Chi announced, putting on his seatbelt.

“Don’t worry.” You reassured her, “If I’m going to throw up, I’m going to aim for Shang-Chi. You’ll be fine.”

“You’re going to throw up?” She questioned, frowning at the statement.

“I’ll try not to, if it’s any consolation to you.” You offered, throwing off your jacket before bundling it up and letting it rest on your lap, holding it against your stomach lightly.

“I hope you’re strapped in. Morris tells us we need to leave now.” Trevor announced, simultaneously making Katy push the gas.

As you’re driving, Katy keeps a steady pace, causing a feeling of relief to wash through you. If this was going to be the pace you’d keep during the ride, nothing could really go wrong.

In front of the car, the trees suddenly started to separate, creating a road for Katy to drive on. You gasped at the sight, having never seen anything like it before.

“This is so cool.” Katy quietly awed. You hummed in agreement, staring at the greens out of the window.

“Morris says you might want to speed up.” Trevor announced, looking at the rearview mirror. Katy followed his look, before letting a curse word slip and speeding up. All three of you in the back quickly looked behind, eyes widening at the sight of the trees closing back.

You turned around the second you saw what was happening, not ready to move forward while looking back.

“Take a left.” Trevor instructed.

“When?” Katy wondered, sparing the man a single glance.

“Now!” He ushered.

Katy took a sharp turn at his words, causing you to immediately grab hold of the handle on the door. Xialing and Shang-Chi both fell towards your side, not having prepared for the turn. You let out a little chuckle at the sight of them, but stopped as the familiar feeling of nausea hit you again.

“Right!” Trevor instructed. Yet again, Katy listened to him, taking a sharp right turn as the woods split into two again.

You had yet to let go of the handle, but you figured it might the closest thing you’d get to grounding at the moment. You felt Shang-Chi’s eyes drill holes into your head, but you refused to look at him. Instead, you kept you eyes on the window outside, knowing shooting your glance anywhere else might lead to some unfortunate consequences.

“Right again!” And at those words, the car stumbled around. Your stomach started feeling heavy as your head grew lighter, but you refused to acknowledge it, silently wishing for it to be over soon. You knew what would happen. You brought this upon yourself and you had no one to blame but yourself. You were in this now and you would not complain about it.

“Left!”

The next turn came completely unexpected to you, causing you to lose grip of the handle and the jacket on your lap, your hands trying to hold onto the seat in front of you.

As the car was on a straight line again, Shang-Chi quickly leaned over, grabbing your jacket and handing it to you, before opening your window slightly, allowing fresh air to fill the car. He shot you a silent look before returning to his seat.

“Drive faster!” Trevor urged, looking in the rearview mirror again. The forest seemed to close in behind you in an even faster rate now.

Katy just followed his lead, pushing the gas pedal down all the way. The car was hurled forward as your stomach began to flip. You leant your head against the window, your jacket pressed tightly against your stomach.

“Right!” Trevor yelled, the wind that blew into the car now becoming louder than his voice.

As Katy followed his directions, your clothes began to uncomfortably cling to your body, your hair slowly sticking to your forehead. You felt the bile rising up your throat, but you swallowed it back down, knowing there was no way of stopping now.

As Trevor kept shouting instructions, you began to wonder when this maze would end. It had been more terrible than you predicted. Perhaps the nausea of the earlier car-ride still lay heavy on your stomach, which only increased with the current journey. Or maybe the fact that there were no blinkers or navigation used, made your brain confused and uncomfortable, leaving you with a sickening feeling. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

Had this been a bad idea?

Definitely.

Would you ever confess it?

Never.

“Close the window!” Trevor yelled to Katy, holding his hands over his ears.

“Do not close the window!” Shang-Chi shot after him, holding his hand beside Katy’s seat, leaving her unable to access the window buttons.

Your head rested against the backside of the chair in front of you, trying to keep the dizziness at bay, but with every following turn, you felt that uncomfortable substance rising back up. Your head felt too light to lift it now, but your stomach forced you to keep it up before everything would come back out.

You let your head fall towards the window, keeping it up in order to swallow everything down again. The sour feeling stung your throat, nearly making you gasp in uneasiness, but you did your best not to show it. The open window that provided you with fresh air, had begun to lose its purpose, now only filling you with a loud pounding in the ears, every other word suddenly passing by unheard. It wasn’t until you felt a warm hand on the one that clung to your jacket, that you moved your head.

Before even looking, you knew it was Shang-Chi, but there was little he could do for you now. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he held out a bottle of cold water and a plastic bag. You gratefully took the offer, taking small sips from the bottle before placing the plastic bag on top of your jacket, just in case things would go sideways.

Your hands had grown all warm and soggy, nearly gliding off of the fabric. Your shirt was now nearly glued to your back. The hair you had refused to put up earlier was now suffocating your neck with a heat attack. You could feel the sweat of it fall down your body, making you move uncomfortably in your seat. A sharp ringing filled your ears, your vision showing black dots from time to time.

The car increased its speed suddenly. You had no idea what was happening, but you closed your eyes, not willing to look outside anymore. You needed your focus on your body, trying so desperately to maintain it.

Katy’s screaming disturbed the ringing in your ears as you felt an annoying banging against your brain.

And just like that, the car stopped moving. Heavy breathing was heard all around the car, but you had yet to open your eyes. The nauseating feeling was far from over. You figured it was best to continue driving before you would have to experience everything again.

“Everyone okay?” Katy asked, which went answered by multiple hums.

“Morris says to go right through there.” The man in front of you announced.

“Through the waterfall?” Katy asked incredulously.

“Yes.” Was the simple answer.

And then, the car was moving again. You heard the window beside you shut, but you made no intention to open your eyes yet.

“Y/N?” You heard Shang-Chi ask, but you ignored him, waving your hand towards him in a “let it go” manner.

How long the car had been driving afterwards, you did not know. You didn’t look outside, the earlier trip still heavy on your stomach. It wasn’t until the car suddenly stopped, that your stomach decided enough was enough, and resorted to throwing everything out.

You were hunched over the bag in your hands, the vomit slowly leaving your throat, much to your discomfort. You felt two gentle, yet unfamiliar hands wrap around your hair before tying it in a simple pony tail.

Your body felt as if it was on fire, your shirt definitely drenched by now. You tried to catch your breath, but you threw yourself back over the bag before you knew it. A second round falling out just as terrible as the first one.

You could hardly comprehend the door beside you opening, followed by a hand slowly, but steadily rubbing your back. You kept yourself above the bag, even though you were fairly sure you were done now. You began tying it, but it was taken from you before you could grab the ends.

As you unbuckled yourself and stood back up, black spots appeared in your vision again, making you stumble outside, before forcing you to sit down, your back against the car.

“Babe, can you hear me?” You faintly heard, making you hum silently, leaning your head against the car too, your eyes closing again.

“Are you okay?” He asked again, the voice now nearer.

“I just threw up twice. What do you think?” You mumbled.

Your statement went ignored, a soft hand being placed on top of your head instead.

“You’re burning up.” He remarked, untying your hair and wrapping it in a bun instead, making you sigh in relief.

“Give me a few minutes.” You stated quietly.

“Can you give me that bottle of water?” You followed up in a whisper. It was quiet for a moment before you felt the cold bottle back in your hands. You finished it quickly, handing it back when you were done.

“Do you need anything else?” He wondered again, his hand softly touching your cheek.

“A cold shower.” You mustered out, throwing your head forward, making it rest against Shang-Chi’s chest. “And a few painkillers.”

A low chuckle escaped his throat as his hand rested on your back, making you since slightly at the hot and sweaty shirt now being pushed against your body.

“Can you move yet?” He whispered patiently, letting you go, though he allowed your head to keep resting against him.

“Give me a moment.” You muttered, one of your hands falling to your stomach as if it would calm it down.

“That’s okay.” He answered, shifting a little bit before resting his head on top of yours, one of his his hands connecting with the one that was on your stomach.

“Xialing is doing the talking anyway.” He explained, his second hand falling to your neck and stroking it affectionately.

“Tell me when to get up.” He proposed, letting you pick your time and comfort.

You hummed in response, happy to be in his arms back on solid ground. You tried turning in your position, but your body quickly show down the idea, fresh nausea returning fast.

Shang-Chi understood what you were trying to do, luckily. He grabbed your waist, carefully turning you around, making your back rest against his chest.

“You’re drenched in sweat.” He noticed aloud, though that was the only thing he did about it.

Your head fell back in the crook of his neck, making Shang-Chi smile and rest his head against yours. Your hand tried reaching for his, even though you could not see anything right now.

“You want more water?” He misunderstood, his voice vibrating through his chest.

You just shook your head lightly, grabbing his arm and letting your hand slide down it until your hand connected with his. He squeezed it in comfort, before wrapping his arms around your body, holding you against him tightly, your hands toying with his fingers.

“I’m tired.” You whispered. “Do you mind if I fall asleep right here?”

Once more, Shang-Chi chuckled. “Of course not, babe.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled, sinking into his arms, nausea slowly subsiding as your mind finally drifted off.

You were glad he had been understanding, instead of cocky and full of himself at the moment. He did not mention your stubbornness earlier or your stupid comments. And you were thankful for that. You were far too tired or nauseous to deal with these comments now. They’d have to wait until tomorrow morning. Besides, a cold shower was next on the agenda, whether Ta Lo had that or not.

Taglist: @wlfstxr