#but there was no pain for like the first 3 days

[nvuy]

hello regarding that small jing yuan ramble you wrote. um. you're literally cooking w it. the money i would pay to see you write it is insane 🫡

thank you for your contributions to the hsr community. you are a godsend girl (｡- .•) <3

SOS — jing yuan

summary. you grow sick, and lo and behold, it’s not actually from your pathetic pining over the general of the luofu, but something else.

notes. based on this. five people asked for it. i want to lick a bold stripe up this man’s chest. All Hail Jing Yuan.

warnings. 16+ as it may be mildly suggestive, heliobus possession, injuries, blood, vomiting (not a kink. you’re just sick), a literal exorcism, and you and jing yuan get it on on some random park bench.

You had been sick for a while. Maybe a week, now. First, it had started as a simple cold; blocked nose, sore throat, weak bones. 

But now, even after a trip to the doctor’s to retrieve some medicine to at least soothe the persistent ache in your throat, the cold was growing worse and worse. 

And today, you were convinced that whatever illness you had wasn’t just a simple cold. 

Your stomach is twisting into knots, and there’s an incessant panging in the back of your skull. 

At first, you tried to ignore the pain. You had a report to write up that was expected by a coworker by the end of the day, but you were only growing sicker by the minute. 

This had to be the worst day of your life.

Worked to Hell, stressed, your hair was a mess, there was a toothpaste stain on your shirt, and you were sure one of your socks was inside out. 

The Master Diviner had noticed your state first. As soon as you walked into the doors and sat down, she passed by your desk, placed a small pile of papers before uttering a quick, “are you sick?” 

She did it out of concern, but all it did was knock your confidence down into the negatives. 

And now, you had an even bigger issue hovering over your shoulder. 

“You look unwell.” 

Your head shoots up from your desk, and the holographic screen fades out of view when your hand slams over the gadget. You’re sure you just ruined half of your report; you don’t remember the last time you saved. 

When you push back your hair, two pairs of golden eyes are peering down at you. 

Uh oh. 

“Uh–” Your face was burning, half out of embarrassment, and also because he was so close to you. You could feel your face instinctively scrunching up to keep the tears at bay. “Sorry, General.” 

General Jing Yuan offers you a small but concerned knit of his brows. A hand presses to your forehead. “You’re running hot.” 

“No, no…” You were not getting sent home. God you needed the money right now. “I’m fine. Thank you.” You move away from his hand and try to turn your burning face from him. 

Your head felt wrong. You felt dizzy. 

Your mother was bombarding you with messages begging you to come help her at her restaurant, your father wouldn’t stop asking you to come home because he missed you, and you were swamped with work, and nothing was coming together, and now you’re sick– 

“Mmm. I’m afraid I don’t believe you,” General Jing Yuan presses. “You look as though you’re about to pass out.”

You shake your head slowly, cautious of the migraine pulling behind your eyes. Crying won’t help the migraine forming, idiot. “I need this pay, sir.” 

“That can be arranged.” 

Oh, good Gods. 

The playful smile he sent your way almost made you melt into a puddle onto the floor. 

You always wondered how soft his hair was. 

You want to say more. You want to tell him not to worry; you’d worked through worse. For the amount of sick sessions you’d had in these bathrooms, the last stall on the second floor bathrooms of the building practically became your second bedroom. 

You also want to lean forward and taste his lips. But, for one, that’s sort of unprofessional, and two, he doesn’t even know your name. You’re also sure you look like an absolute mess, and a complete turn off. 

You shake your head again, but when you try to stand up, you wobble. Jing Yuan rests his hands on your shoulders to keep you steady. 

You can’t tell if you’re spiralling into hysteria, or if your body’s actively trying to fight the worst flu of your life. 

“I’m sorry, I–”

Absolutely humiliated, you burst into tears. 

You try to muffle it so as to not disturb any of your coworkers. 

You’re desperately trying to find a dry spot on your sleeve to wipe your tears, but surprisingly, the General hums sympathetically and swipes his thumbs beneath your eyes. 

Then, he reaches over the desk and shuts off the gadgets, collects your bag, and hands it to you. 

“Go home.” There’s a gentle flutter of his lashes. 

Your face is still burning when you bow your head. You can’t disobey him. The Master Diviner was your boss, but he’s even above her. “Yes, sir.” 

General Jing Yuan escorts you to the door slowly, and winks at you on your departure. “Rest well.” 

You’re more convinced your face is burning because he touched you, more than how your skin feels like it's being melted from the inside by a growing fever. You promptly ignore the strange looks you get while you sob all the way home. 

ೃ༄

Your sob session had left you feeling worse, and you’d promptly been sick in the toilet as soon as you made it to your home. 

You’d tried to swallow pills to ease the headache growing behind your eyes, but you couldn’t even stomach that. 

For a while, you had shivered in your own sweat on the bathroom floor. It was disgusting. You had planned to call a doctor, but it was way too late for any clinics to still be open at this hour. 

It was dark when you got home. 

After what seemed like an hour, you garnered enough strength to peel off your clothes and scrub the sweat and grime off of yourself. The steam of the shower was only relieving for a moment. As soon as you step out, you feel dizzy all over again. 

But, you’d made a mission to get changed, brush your teeth at the very least, and try to sleep it off. 

You manage to pull on something more comfortable. You try not to move too much. You can feel acid sloshing in your stomach with every shift of your arms, and you want to teeter over and empty your guts again. 

You hold out long enough to feel weakly for your toothbrush. Your face is somewhat clean, disregarding the tears that silently drip down your cheeks—you know that crying is doing the opposite of relieving your headache, but you can’t stop yourself. 

You rinse the taste of sick from your mouth and lean against the cool bench to soothe the heat surging through your body. 

When you look up, you blink and catch something in the mirror. 

Maybe you were just staring in the mirror for too long. 

Not only had your face warped into something hideous, but there was now something green floating behind your ear. 

It looks like a wisp, lime and yellow, like a spirit. 

You slowly turn your head in the direction of it. 

There’s nothing there. Your eyes meet the wall of the shower instead. 

You try to reach out a hand to it while staring into the mirror, but you feel nothing. 

“Sweet.”

You jump back. 

Your fingers twitch just before the reflection of the orb. It’s like a ball of green flames lingering by the side of your head. You feel no aura, no heat radiating off of it.

You scrub your wet eyes with the heels of your palms. 

Still there. 

Your eyes then narrow suspiciously. It does little to help your headache. 

If you didn’t feel two seconds from collapsing, perhaps you would’ve been more alarmed. 

You try to reach for it again. 

Your fist twitches forward and it slams into the mirror. 

Not only does white hot pain peel up your arm and split your knuckles, but the glass shatters into pieces. It falls to the floor and embeds in your skin, and you’re sure the wound will scar. 

You don’t find it in you to scream, because the pain is so far away you don’t feel like you’re inside your body anymore. 

It’s a ghost. 

Oh, Aeons, you’re being haunted by a small cloud. 

Briefly, you worry it’s one of your passed grandmothers, or her grandmothers. They'd probably reprimand you for being single and pining after a dude that was like hundreds of years old. 

The spirit’s voice is unfamiliar until you recognise it.

It’s yours, and it's coming directly out of your mouth. 

“I’ve been here a long time, y’know?” Your brain buzzes with confusion. Are you speaking? Not really. But you are speaking. That’s your voice—did you always sound so obnoxious? Ew. “You just haven’t noticed.” 

You exhale shakily. You try not to cry, but tears pool down your face anyway. The pain in your head grows worse. You’re sure your brain is splitting in two. 

Blood drips from your hand and onto the tiled floor.  

“It hurts less if you let this happen. Assimilation is usually easy, but with you, not so much. You’re very stubborn.” 

Oh, great. More insults. Just what you needed. This sucks. Your work is overdue, your pay has probably been cut accordingly, and now there’s a ghost in your body and ruining your house. 

You blindly try to touch the spirit again. 

Your hands don’t move.

“What are you?” That’s you. You know it’s you. Your voice wavers. It’s less confident than when the spirit speaks with your mouth. 

“I am your desires. A fruition of your every thought and being.” The flame continues to burn. It lets you take a little bit of control. Your fingers phase through the reflection of the spirit in the mirror. “And you are delicious.” 

The implication was there, but all the statement made you feel was disgust. Your body involuntarily shudders, and the flame hums in confusion before you stiffen once again. 

Your hand is bleeding. There’s red pooling all over the bathroom bench, but you still cannot feel the throbbing and the glass protruding from your skin. 

“You are sweeter than other humans. Like sugar.” The flame feels warm close to your skin. “I realise your kind calls it ‘attraction.’”

Oh, my God. The stupid soul knows that you lay awake at night thinking about this man that barely knows you exist. 

This is embarrassing. 

You can’t even will yourself to cry, so all you can afford is to blink stupidly. 

And why are you now thinking of how he smelled when he touched you when there’s a literal ghost with a vendetta taking over your body? 

You need to get your priorities in check. 

Your fingers twitch with disobedience. Your phone sits untouched on the counter. The screen is covered with shards of glass and smudges of water from the faucet, but you know you can reach it. If you try hard enough. 

Come on. 

Your index finger twitches again.

The ghost is going on a tangent about your boring little life and your boring little crush on the General. 

You can’t bear to listen anymore. 

Your hands spring to life and you pounce for your phone. It’s not exactly in vain, for you do manage to withstand the pull of the spirit and the pain that returns to your hand and your head as you open your messages and swipe over the first contact you see. 

It’s Madame Fu, much to her misfortune. You’re too desperate to consider yourself a burden. 

Considering the time, she’s most likely getting things sorted to close the building. The last message was an automated message of your pay being sent to your account from last week. 

“What are you doing?!” the spirit shouts. It bounces inside of your head like a bullet has fired. 

Your trembling fingers swipe over your keyboard. 

You procure a melodious string of poetry as a result. 

You: HEPLP IRMB

Your head is pounding. You’re sure you’re about to throw up. A dizzy surge spears behind your eyes. 

You: BOSS I NEEDYRLURHEL P

The phone drops from your hands as soon as your thumb cards over the send button. You notice the messages send through before your eyes wordlessly snap to the mirror and you stand ramrod still. 

Once again, you’re a passenger beneath your own skin. 

When the spirit takes over, the pain dissipates, and the fearful tears that run down your cheeks quickly dry. 

After a moment, the spirit calms itself down. 

“I’ve grown so impatient with you. You’re boring. You’re lucky your emotions are so delicious, otherwise I would’ve abandoned you a long time ago.” You don’t consider yourself lucky. If anything, the ghost should consider itself lucky it gets to rest in your warm soup for a brain. You’re sure every working brain cell has fried to a crisp at this point. “You’re so sad and miserable. How’s about I help you get your life back on track?” 

You want to ask why. You’re sure it has better things to do than play wingman. 

But, you stare at the soul fluttering beside your head with wide eyes. Your chest heaves with worry. 

How you haven’t succumbed to cardiac arrest yet is beyond you. You would’ve patted yourself on the back for remaining so strong about the situation; but you suppose you’re sort of cheating. Not being in control of your body probably means that if you were autonomous, you’d be on the floor sobbing over your injured hand, the broken mirror that would cost a few hundred credits to fix, and the fact that General Jing Yuan actually put a finger on you today. 

Oh, and also there’s a ghost haunting you. That, too.

“This is my body now.” 

Yep. You definitely needed to get your priorities in check. 

You were beginning to feel woozy. The smell of copper hit your nose, and your stomach turned over itself four times. 

“Now. Let’s fix this face up. You look dreadful.” 

Thanks. You’re not sure if you can speak to it, but your voice radiates a laugh much unlike your own. It’s more of a short sweet cackle than anything. Somehow, the ghost is able to navigate and use your phone’s camera to clean your face properly. 

It ignores the blood oozing from your knuckles, choosing instead to curiously open drawers until it stumbles upon a bag full of makeup. 

All of this expensive stuff you’d splurged on last year. You will your breath to remain somewhat of an even pace.

You’d have a breakdown over this if you manage to survive before the spirit decides to throw you off a cliff later. 

You feel like this ghost is more suited to be your therapist, ironically, with how it mumbles in your voice about how you could present yourself much better if you got out of bed earlier every morning and cared about yourself. 

“You know… that old geezer likes you, too.” 

Your heart stops. 

Then, there’s a cruel snort that leaves your lips right after. 

If you could scowl, you would have. Don’t let it get to your head. It’s lying. It’s trying to get a rise out of you. And it was working, too. 

You didn’t even realise your feet were moving towards your closet to fish out something suitable to the ghost’s tastes.

This was going to be a long day. 

ೃ༄

A long day did not entail you stumbling back to the workplace because the ghost didn’t know how to handle the pain of fancy shoes. The brickwork of the roads were uneven towards the entrance, and you almost trip onto your face. 

“Where is that man?” 

This was awful. 

You wanted to die on the spot. 

“He can’t hide from me,” the ghost informs you. At least, you think it’s speaking to you. “I can taste him.” 

You want to ask what he tastes like. 

The ghost seems to understand your silence. “Humans call it ‘cinnamon.’” 

Oh. Yum. 

You grimace. Inside your head. This was confusing. Your body feels like a suit being worn by someone else. It’s weird. It’s wrong. It’s almost violating. 

You feel as though you’re witnessing everything through a screen. You cannot feel anything; not the snug of the clothes you’re wearing, or the wind on your skin, or the pain in your feet from the shoes. Nothing. 

All you can do is watch. 

You wish you couldn’t have. 

This is so painful. 

“General!” 

Oh, God, that’s your voice. And you’re moving very briskly towards a large figure who’s stopped to acknowledge you. 

He seems barely taken aback when you stumble and fall into his arms. 

You’re way too excited pushing hair from your face that the General has to cock his head to the side for you to acknowledge him.

His eyes have widened significantly, and the grin on his lips is awkward, to say the least. “How are you feeling?” His hand presses to your forehead again and draws back quickly. “You’re still hot.” 

“Thank you, General.”

He lets out something akin to a snort. 

This sucks. You’re like a vessel, and yet you’re sure your face is still burning at the proximity.

Oh, this is so embarrassing. 

You realise you can sort of smell him. It’s so light, though. 

He really does smell like cinnamon. You had never noticed it before. It’s faint, as if he hasn’t chosen to top up his perfume from the morning, but it clings to his uniform nonetheless.

“Do you need to sit down?” he asks worriedly. 

You realise he’s the only thing holding you up. 

You try to cry for help. 

Nothing but a pleased giggle escapes your throat. You realise there’s a burning in your chest. You figured it to be your heart giving out on you—you’d take death over the embarrassment that washed through your veins. 

Your wishes did not come true. 

General Jing Yuan peers behind you for a moment, watching where you came from. 

Are you trembling? You can’t tell. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks again. His grip on you has tightened. 

You try to say no, but instead you blurt out, “I’m good– great, actually. Since you’re here.” 

This was horrible. You want to sink into the floor and never be seen again. There’s a cackling in your ears, and it’s your voice. 

“Shall I bring you to a medic?” 

You slowly shake your head. 

“Do you need an escort back home?” 

Oh, boy. You manage to weakly shake your head again. It’s all you can muster. Your voice isn’t working. It’s not yours. You were also afraid you’d try to drag him inside your bedroom if he did walk you home. 

He brings you over to a seat and helps you sit. Your legs are bouncing all over the place and you can’t find it in yourself to sit still. Your eyes are flitting left and right and up and down trying to locate the source of the voices you’re hearing swarming your head. 

A hand touches your cheek. You instinctively lean into his palm. 

“You’re bleeding.” And he’s touching your hand. You may as well have fainted there. 

“Flesh wound,” you say. 

Jing Yuan’s grin turns crooked. “I commend your bravery, but this may require stitches.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have really nice eyes?” 

Here we go. The cackling was growing worse. You feared your head would explode before your pounding heart would. It felt as though it was shattering your ribcage as it thumped. 

The General tilts his head. Loose curls of white follow. 

You’re so relieved he sat you down. Otherwise you would have fallen to the floor. 

“Really nice,” you repeat. “Like sunshine.” 

Jing Yuan looks at you strangely. “Charming, aren’t you?” You’re busy admiring the shadows that his lashes cast over his cheeks. 

Your heart melts. You are so ridiculously down bad it hurts. 

You’re sure he can see your cheeks burning. That’s involuntary, too. The spirit inside of you seems equally confused. 

Good. If it wants to embarrass you, you’re going to cook this thing from the inside out with your body heat. You hope the fever boils it alive. That would be cool. Deserved. 

And if you lived, you get to tell your future grandchildren how you bested your vengeful ancestor because you had a fever and it couldn’t withstand your body temperature. 

The spirit’s confidence in your body, however, does not waver. 

You can see a glint in General Jing Yuan’s gaze. His eyes loiter behind you again as if he’s staring at something approaching. 

The spirit doesn’t notice a thing. 

“Well.” General Jing Yuan’s thumb traces over your cheek again. “If we’re playing that game, I will admit you look lovely tonight.” 

Oh, God. 

This is the best and worst day of your life and you’re barely experiencing it. 

You manage to garner some control, and only some because the spirit is most likely cooking in your body, but all you manage is the stupidest giggle from your lips. 

You hadn’t even realised how close he was. 

You’re delicious like this. 

He can’t be telling the truth.

You can’t believe it. 

You watch him get up, and you, wherever you are inside your head, feel a pang of disappointment in your stomach. 

“You should get to a medic,” he says softly. “Come.” 

If you were really in your body, you’re sure you would’ve swooned and quite possibly died right there on the spot.

For a moment, you’re sure that’s what the spirit inside you is trying to do. Your body teeters over and you stare at his shoes. 

Your arms jut out to either side of the bench, but you don’t stand. You witness your legs shaking and weakened ankles. 

You’re worried you’re actually going to throw up onto his shoes.

What escapes your mouth instead is a, “General…” in the most pathetic whine you’ve ever heard in your life. And it’s in your voice, to make matters worse.

You feel yourself grimacing internally. 

General Jing Yuan quickly sits back down on the bench to steady you. You can hear him speaking, and he sounds concerned, but you can’t make out his words clearly. 

“Gen–” 

You feel dizzy inside your own head.

Yep. Heart attack. Definitely. 

At least you’ll die in this man’s arms. 

But, no. You don’t die. Not there. 

General Jing Yuan’s face is a blur in your vision, and his gloved hands are resting on both cheeks, still burning hot to the touch. 

Oh, you can still smell the cinnamon from his hair. So soft and subtle like it’s been dusted onto a nice scoop of ice cream. 

If you were here, and properly here, you would have sprung from the seat and taken off running. 

But, it’s not really you, and so your lips meet his hurriedly. You can’t see much because your eyes have shut, but for whatever reason you can feel, and there’s excitement that grows in your stomach in a pool of humiliation when his lips move against yours.

Your fingers bury into his hair. Soft. So soft. You wish you could cherish the feeling normally, within your own skin and body, and truly feel his warmth as your own. 

Your lips are hot on his, and you feel his lashes flutter closed upon your cheek like a gentle kiss and swoop. His tongue tastes suspiciously of tanghulu, but that only drives you further into him. 

This is embarrassingly addicting. 

Your fingers decide to tangle themselves within his hair. Daringly, they venture further towards the silk red ribbon and dance around stray strands that had fallen free. You desperately want to pull at the silk and watch his hair fall to his shoulders, but you aren’t sure if your limbs are yours. 

His hands are so warm by your hips. And they’re so big, and you feel the bumps of the callouses along his palms and it makes your bones jitter apprehensively. 

You’re way too into this, but if you’re bound to be fired over it, you’d consider this worth it. 

The General seems to be enjoying it—and he is. He hums pleasantly against your lips, and his thighs are slipping further and further beneath yours as you pull yourself closer and closer. His grip is firm; not enough to hurt, but enough to placate you. It’s nice. He’s nice. 

It’d be even nicer if there wasn’t something screaming in the back of your head. You’re not sure if it’s you, or the spirit, or some other worldly being like your alter-ego, but whoever is in control of your body chooses to ignore it. 

Fever be damned, your arms swing around his neck. Your skin feels as though it’s melting against his, like hot wax dripping from a burning candlewick. Your chest presses flush against his, and you can feel a steadily racing heartbeat against your own. Warm and fluttering—not as quick as yours. You’re sure any quicker and it’s going to explode—but quick enough to notice, like a fast drumbeat. 

There’s a cold hand that glides along the centre of your back. 

You presume it to be his, but something kicks in your stomach when you remember one of his hand locks on your hip bone, and the other has travelled low enough to press gently against the expanse of skin just below your navel. 

You want it to travel lower. You bury the thought in the back of your head. 

The spirit breaks through, you think. You’re suddenly floating again, and maybe there’s panic there, because you can just feel, in the fleeting moments where you’re shut out again, that your body twists in his hold. 

From what you can tell, General Jing Yuan keeps you in his arms, and your lips against his. 

It’s cold. 

Whoever stands behind you must be blowing icy winds directly on your back, because you feel yourself shivering.

And then, you choke. 

Something firm pulls. Not on you, not on your hair, but something inside of you, and it almost hurts. It feels like a part of you is being torn directly from your racing heart, and surging cold fires into your veins.

It’s like ice crystallises into your blood and blocks your arteries, but the sensation is pulling and pulling and you’re growing breathless. 

That’s you in your body. You feel it. You’re kicking yourself for it, but you’re trying to fight in the General’s hold. You’re trying to turn around, to fight the shadows of four figures you can now see casted on the street. 

General Jing Yuan, still, presses firmer against you, and his hands have abandoned your hips to hold your face gently. It’s comforting, and you’re melting, but all the while, the sensation is growing worse behind you. 

You’re worried when you hear a snap, as if they’ve just reached forward and broken your spine into two.

Then, there’s one final tug, and you’re breathless. 

You drop fully into the General’s embrace. He’s less sucking your face off now, and more placing calculated soft kisses against your lips every few seconds. 

You feel boneless, like you’ve had your very own soul snatched from your body. 

But then, you blink slowly. And you realise you’re in your own body again. 

“Huzzah!” 

General Jing Yuan whispers assurances against your lips, and you only find the strength to hum in response. As he makes you even dizzier when his lips trail along the corner of your mouth, you test the strength in your hands.

You can barely make a fist, but it’s you curling your fingers into your palm. It’s surreal, but it’s you, and only you. 

There’s a girl's voice from behind you, and the iridescence of something a sickeningly familiar green and yellowish iridescence that reflects onto the concrete like water. 

“Alright! That’s another one down! Pats on the backs for everyone! Thanks for the help, General– oh.” 

Another voice chimes in. “Should we look away?” 

“This is amazing. Like watching a car crash,” a third says. 

The fourth sounds irrevocably terrified. “I think I’m going to vomit.”

There’s embarrassment there, but you only giggle against the General’s lips. You’re still exhausted, and you’re sure despite the outfit the spirit had dressed you in that you appear like a walking corpse. Especially in comparison to the General, but, if he’s into that you’ll take it. 

You later learn from the four that had practically violated you that you were possessed by something called a Heliobus. Sounded very not intimidating, especially when the smaller one with the ears had shown the spirit to you while it was trapped in a cage. 

You recognised one of them as Sushang, the busy little Cloud Knight girl. The third was a nameless Trailblazer from the Astral Express that had given you a fist bump for not passing out during the literal exorcism that they put you through.

Then, there was Guinaifen, who had accidentally live streamed the entire ordeal on her phone. 

All of it. 

You weren’t fired, no. But, The Master Diviner was furious, but more so at the General for his lack of professionalism and, well… ramming his tongue down your throat. 

General Jing Yuan, was, to say the least, very excited when you returned to work. 

You’d tried to ignore the entire thing. There were people offering you weird stares on the street, and the workplace was no different. You kept to yourself mostly, only picking up where you’d left off last week. 

And you were relieved you weren’t stumbling home and throwing up in the tub anymore. That had definitely been a week. 

You’re busy trying to finish off with editing official documents when a hand rests on your shoulder. 

You almost spring from your seat when you lock eyes with the General. Again. You almost smash your hand through the computer screen when anxiety riddles your bones. 

That’d leave a permanent scar. The General had been so kind to make sure your hand was patched up from when you’d shattered your mirror.

“General,” you greet quietly. “Good morning.” 

He smiles. “Just Jing Yuan, if you please.” He leans against the side of your desk. “It’s almost time for morning tea, so… I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me for a walk now.” 

You glance down at your screen. 

‘Morning tea’ was quite literally thirty minutes away.

You look back up at him. “Right now?” 

“Fresh air wouldn’t hurt.” 

“Sir, I’m already on thin ice as it is. Madame Fu will–” 

General Jing Yuan politely waves you off. “Everything will be taken care of for you. I’ll see to it myself.” 

You bite down on the inside of your cheeks.

Well. 

Slowly, and with uncertainty, you stand and dust off your pants. There’s a dumb grin on your lips. “General, I’m starting to think you might be flirting.” 

General Jing Yuan leans just barely closer to you and narrows his eyes playfully. 

You almost died. Still, though your voice wavers, you ask, “I hope you haven’t been thinking of me.” But you do hope. You really do. 

You reach down to turn off your computer screen, but you blindly feel around for the button, because you’re afraid if you look away he’ll disappear. 

He seems to understand. He tilts his head. “Maybe I have.” Then, he offers you his hand. “Come. We’ll walk and talk.” 

So, you go with him, and your heart almost leaps out of your chest when he only barely sighs in relief. 

(Madame Fu watches you both leave, twenty-seven minutes before everyone is scheduled on a fifteen minute break. 

She, at first, decides she’ll stop you both at the door, but it has been quite a while since General Jing Yuan has worn a genuine smile on his face. 

With a heavy sigh from her lips, she lets it go. 

But only for today). 

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Post war/coma comic about Gai struggling with his recovery

Since tumblr hates long form comics, I have to split this into 2 bc its 36 images. This is the first part, part 2 i'll either do as a reblog or a separate post right after this, stay tuned! Links to support me in pinned post <3

tw: s*icidal thoughts, injury, a little blood

Bisuke: Gai's Back!

Gai: GRAAH!

Kks: Im home Gai: Welcome back Kks: [wheels rolling] Hey,

Kks: Ga-!? Gai: Im fine. The tile is cool on my face. Kks: Wanna go lay down in bed? Gai: I am so /sick/ of lying down. Kks: Ok. What do you want for supper?

Gai: You're not going to comment? Kks: I already know what happened. You overdid it again. I should be able to keep up with chores, kakashi. Kks: You can. Just don' bull through it all in one go. Do you want to end up in the hospital again? Gai: Please don't. Kks: I know sitting still is hard for you, and "too much" is in your DNA, but you have to take this slow so you don't exacerbate your injuries, Gai. You went from hyper-aware to pretending your body limits dont exist. Gai: Like you haven't done the same.

Gai: You've proved your point. Kks: It's not about that. And you've dragged me to bed and out of bed repeatedly when I needed it. You were burning alive from the inside. Tsunade told you your immune system is out of whack. You need to take it easy. /I/ know you're capable, but are you trying to prove to /yourself/ you are? Gai: You want me to admit my embarrassment? Kks: If something serioud happens, You'll be even more embarrassed then

Gai: How could you possibly know how I FEEL?! How could you EVER KNOW HOW I FEEL?! Kks: I DON'T! But I've /been/ the one ouking and sobbing on your bathroom floor because I couldn't take living anymore! And I don't want that for YOU!

Kks: I'm sorry, Gai. Gai: I'm sorry

Kks: I can't stand knowing you're in pain, and I can't get you help. If there was a way, I'd do anything. Gai: You do so much to help me already.... And I yelled at you Kks: I've screamed at you so much, that was pretty tame. I wish I was like you with things like this. Not great with what to say...... But I can listen.

Gai: I hate feeling so weak. I'm tired all the time, in constant pain, I can't even walk-..... I can tell tenten and the boys worry despite my efforts to appear positive. Kks: They're just not sure how to react. They know you hate being babied, but don't want to push you into hurting yourself. You hate being told you can't do something. They love you. You get stronger everyday, everyone is cheering you on.

Gai: I know it's irrational, but... I feel like you gave up the Hokage position to take care of me. Kks: Haa!? I'm grateful if anything. I'd be retired too if I could. That'd be amazing. I'm dreading just helping Tsunade but as long as you're by my side, I'll be fine. We're still equals, rivals, friends, partners

Gai: Even if I can't- Kks: /Always/ wil be, dickhead. Gai: You worry about me hurting myself? Kks: I know you think about it

Kks: We're the same in that regard Gai: I would never act on this, please believe me, these thoughts are rare........... Kks: It's ok, Gai. Gai: Sometimes I think i should have just died. I feel so out of place on the streets I used to feel so at home at. I never asked to live. I didn't plan to. I just don't know how to-...

Kks: I understand that. Though, dying didn't feel any better. Gai: I know I didn't fully pass like you did. I didn't see papa. Just for a moment, I wish I could have seen him.

Kks: As much as I'm sure he wants to see you again, It's too soon. Dai'd slap the shit out of you for wanting to waste your youth just to see him. Gai: [chuckle] probably. Kks: I have those thoughts less and less now, but they're still there. "why am I the one who survives?" "Burden" "Gai will come to his senses eventually"

Gai: FALSE!! None of my grief is with you! I love living here with you! My love for you only burns hotter each day! You're so lovely inside and out! Kks: Maa What did I do to deserve such praise from teh mouth of the hottest man in Konoha?? Gai: YOU STILL THINK I'M HOT?! Kks: YOU-! [CACKLE]

Kks: Your bad taste is the only reason I had a chance before someone snatched you up. Gai: The worst. Kks: Thought we'd irritate eachother, but it's been pretty smooth. Even though you still get played by the dogs. Gai: You really wanna throw those stones?

Gai: They play you just as easily. don't lie. Kks: My point is, whatever you need from me, you have it. No questions asked. Even if you yell and scream, i can take it. You held me together when I was unraveling, and I'll never forget it. Didn't trust anyone else to see me like that. Broken

Gai: I never saw you as that. Kks: I'll never see you as that

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN is no longer the governess to Harry's children, but she is his wife (part 2)

READ PART 1 HERE

author's note: part two of governess!yn (who is still my lil angel baby I cannot lie!) this took slightly longer than anticipated to get to you but i hope you will be happy with the final result! pls let me know what you think, and if there's anything else you'd like to see of these two (i'm certainly not ready to let them go just yet!)

word count: 14.1k of confusion, a lack of communication, friends to lovers, a meddling modiste who we all love, smut, pregnancy.

WARNINGS: discussion of death during childbirth, struggles with infertility (you have been warned)

let me know what you think of edelweiss here! mwah <3

YEAR FIVE

YN’s life had changed in ways that she never could have expected when she became a wife.

YN had never had an example of what a good marriage looked like growing up, and whilst she had worked for couples in the past – nothing could prepare her for the reality. The fact that her life had changed drastically from zero to one hundred within a few days was something that nobody could have prepared her for. It had been a true shift in the motion of her life, and even though it pained her to say – she did not know whether or not this was a welcome addition to her life.

Their wedding day had been a year ago. It took place in early June, which seemed very apt to their relationship. The first time that YN had joined Harry and the children for meals had been in June, and the summer held a very special place in their friendship – relationship? In all honesty, she did not know whether or not their marriage at this point was one of convenience or one that truly meant that something was between them.

As YN did not have a mother to talk her through life as a married woman, she was thankful for the information that she had managed to retain on her own in her life. Miss Francis had sat her down the day before her wedding and attempted to explain what a wedding night included, but YN had put a stop to that conversation immediately and tried to continue to assure the older woman that she knew what was to happen.

Even though YN knew what was to occur on the wedding night, it did not necessarily mean that the act would occur on the said night.

Harry had never attempted to initiate anything of an intimate context between the two of them. The last and only time that they had ever kissed had been on their wedding day, a necessity to ensure that their marriage was fulfilled. Even once they had returned home, she had received no advancements from Harry at all – and had concluded pretty quickly that maybe he did not wish to share this with her. YN knew that this was not completely shocking, seeing as though she was Harry’s second wife, and he had already experienced this before.

There was also a part of her that knew that men had needs. She had come to this conclusion pretty quickly after the husband at the other house she worked at left every night without fail to meet with his mistress (or mistresses, as YN had no idea about the fine details) and yet she could state with full confidence that Harry had never done so. She knew this with such confidence because they spent every evening together (with a considerable amount of space between the two of them obviously) before they retired to bed.

YN would be lying if she said that she had hoped that her marriage to Harry would offer some clarification on what it was she was feeling. She had spent so long denying her wish for marriage, and she thought that once that wish had been fulfilled everything would be put into some sort of perspective for her. Instead, it had confused and worried her more than it had before. The overwhelming, thought-provoking idea that ran through her head most days was that Harry had married YN just to appease her, to be a good friend and that was it. It made her think that Harry (no matter how many times he verbally denied it to her) did not wish for this.

It was not as though Harry required an heir to his estate – he already had one. That normally looming requirement of marriage was gone for him. YN was three and thirty now, and that could offer little in security as to whether she could have children, and with that gone she could not understand why Harry wanted to marry her. If anything, the only reason a man in Harry’s standing would marry was to ease a loneliness he had.

At first, Noah and Honorah had been confused as to why YN was no longer their governess, and instead their mother. YN had assured both of the children immediately that she could never take away their mother from them, and if they wished to continue to call her Miss YN, they could do so without any worries at all. Noah, who stood at ten when they married had huffed and refused to speak to his father or YN for the first few weeks (something that was inherently a trait of Harry’s, but YN would never outwardly tell him that). Norah, however, had only been seven at the time and saw the whole spectacle as something so exciting and had welcomed the change with open arms. YN assumed that since she had never met her mother, YN had been the closest thing to one for her – and she assumed that would be something difficult for both Harry and Noah to accept.

Even though these questions of intimacy usually loomed in the back of YN’s mind most days, along with questions of how the children were faring with the change. But, thankfully, her ole had changed within the household, and she now had duties as Mrs Styles that often took her attention throughout most of the day. The most prevalent job that took up most of her time now involved the children, and more specifically – finding a new governess for them.

To the blind eye, the task on the surface seemed so simple – but in reality, it was not. In the past year, the children (predominantly Noah) had managed to run four governesses out of the door – with the longest of them lasting two and a half weeks.

That was how YN had found herself now – sitting in the drawing room with the fifth governess she had hired who had lasted all of three days.

“… I am sorry, Mrs Styles, but they are terrors. The little boy placed a frog not only on my chair but in every drawer of my desk! And the little girl, well, she listens to everything the boy says and responds to all of my questions by ribbiting like a frog! They are completely unteachable!” Miss Morris exclaims, and YN has to physically refrain herself from rolling her eyes.

“And yet I managed to do it for four years,” YN mumbled quietly whilst running her finger across her eyebrow.

Miss Morris leant forward slightly in her seat, turning her ear towards YN, “Sorry, what was that Mrs Styles?”

“Nothing,” YN shook her head, offering a small smile to Miss Morris, “I do just have to remind you, Miss Morris, that they are children. They are not going to be easy to work with. Mr Styles has raised gorgeous, inquisitive and at times mischievous children – but they are no worse than any you may find with another family.”

Miss Morris shook her head, rather violently at that, “You are only saying such as they are your children – you see them through rose-tinted glasses. They are nothing but terrors, unteachable terrors!”

YN sighed before standing up, nodding at Miss Morris to do the same, “Very well then, Miss Morris. If you had not already claimed that you could not teach the children, you would lose your employment just by calling them terrors. You may have the night to arrange your leave, but you shall not interact with the children.”

Miss Morris opened her mouth as though she was to speak but YN shook her head.

“I would not say anything else if I were you,” YN spoke with a nod.

Miss Morris took one last look at YN, nodded, and turned to leave the room. It was not until YN knew that she was in the all-clear that she sighed and dropped back down on the settee again, exhaling a breath that she did not know she had been holding.

The list of once four failed governesses had now turned to five. Somewhere deep down YN knew this would be the case. It was not that she was necessarily full of herself, but more so that she knew she was the best of the best in terms of governesses. No matter who she presented in front of the children, and whether or not they were good governesses or not – they would never be able to help the children in the way that she did. That was the dilemma that YN found herself in day after day.

The sound of footsteps walking towards the room, and subsequently entering knocked YN right out of her daydream, or potentially it was a crisis – she would never know.

“I think Miss Morris just grunted at me,” Harry spoke, pointing back at the door with a confused look on his face.

YN sighed once more, running a hand across her face, “She can grunt all she wants, Harry! She is out of this house by morning.”

“Oh,” Harry sighed, dropping down on the settee across from her, “She quit?”

YN shrugged her shoulders slightly, “And I fired her. She dared to call the children terrors. Terrors, Harry! I was a moment away from doing something so regrettable I probably would have been sent away!”

Harry laughed with a slight shake of his head, “I told you there was no use in trying to find a new governess.”

“The children still need to be taught, Harry,” YN pointed out, as though she was stating the obvious.

“And you can do it,” Harry shrugged, as though he was the one stating the most obvious thing in the world, “I know that is not necessarily the way that things are done, but when have we ever done things that way?”

A smile taunted on YN’s face, “You would not mind? Having a wife that does not follow the correct rules of society?”

Harry just laughed, “If I cared about the correct rules in society then you would not be my wife.”

YN finally smiled and nodded her head, “I will teach them – God knows that nobody will ever be as good as me.”

“That is certainly more like it,” Harry nodded his head and stood up, “I did have something to tell you before Miss Morris grunted at me. I am going out tonight, a friend of mine is back from a trip abroad. We are meeting at the tavern for a few drinks.”

“Oh,” YN’s heart pummelled to the pit of her stomach, “The tavern?”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, “Yes. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No,” YN assured quickly, trying her best to not make the twist in her stomach obvious to Harry, “I hope you have a lovely time.”

Harry nodded, the confused look returning to his features one last time before he offered her another smile and left the room. YN had seen the tavern but had never been inside. She had only ever seen it on her trips into the village. She also knew of its reputation, although she would not say that she wanted to. Those back rooms, and what they held were the thing that concerned her, she supposed.

More than anything, it turned her stomach so much she was unsure how she did not throw up. 

No matter how much she tried, YN could not sleep a wink.

The children had gone to bed hours ago, and surprisingly (to YN’s relief) without any stress. Her body, however, could not accept that relief due to how stressed she was currently feeling.

YN had tried counting sheep, and she had tried running through everything she had planned for tomorrow in her head, but she just could not shake the thoughts out of her head.

She could not shake the thoughts out of her head of everything that Harry was getting up to during his visit to the tavern.

Before, when YN knew that Harry was inside the four walls of this house and could therefore not be doing the things that YN was imagining in her head – there was no cause for her to worry. It was all fine before because she knew that whilst he was not being intimate with her, he was not with anyone else.

YN could not say that now because she did not know if it was true.

It was something that the two of them never spoke about – they never mentioned it. They both danced around the subject as though it was an open flame, neither one of them attempting to get closer to it. YN was truly regretting that now. At least if they had the conversation, if she had forced them to discuss this then she would have some peace of mind at least. Then again, she cannot imagine knowing he was doing such things would offer her any piece of mind.

After failing to succumb to sleep, YN had ended up wrapping herself in a blanket in Harry’s study, one of his books pressed firmly in her hand. She would say that she was reading it, but she had read the last sentence around twenty times and still not managed to finish it.

Then the door opened.

Harry’s head was lulled forward, his posture slightly hunched and his movements sporadic. He was drunk. Without even thinking about it, her eyes danced around his body attempting to see if there were any creases in his clothes that had not been there before he left. 

There was not, and for the first time that entire evening her heart slowed down to a normal pace.

“I saw the light,” He offered her a boyish grin, “I wondered who was sneaking around at this time – I should have known it was you.”

YN sighed in relief, dropping the book closed in her lap, “You are drunk.”

Harry nodded, not even trying to attempt to hide it. His body stumbled towards the other end of the settee from where she was. YN lifted her hand to her head when she watched him nearly fall off, but he caught himself thankfully before there was any need for her to intervene.

“Have I ever told you that you just might be the smartest person I have ever known?” He raised his eyebrow at her, a teasing look on his face.

YN gasped, immediately picking up the book in her lap to smack him on the shoulder with, “I should have known you were such a tease whilst drunk.”

Harry began to laugh, and no matter how much YN tried to resist it she could not help but join in. YN thought that she had seen all the sides to Harry, and yet there were ones that she was learning about every day.

“How was reuniting with your friend?” YN asked, watching as his head lulled back against the settee, dropping to the side slightly so that he was looking at her, “I suppose that is possibly a silly question given the state you are currently in.”

Harry nodded his head, “It was very enjoyable, although I suppose his constant discussion of beaches across the world did need to be taken hand in hand with a drink the further into the night we were.”

YN laughed, “I cannot ever imagine you not being interested in a conversation, Harry.”

He shook his head, leaning towards her slightly, “I was interested! The first time! It was just my luck that every time William had a drink it was as though his memory was wiped and he did not know he had already told me all of it before!”

YN did end up in a fit of laughter at his words. There was an ounce or so of further relief that she felt in that laugh, knowing that the stress she had found herself in was for no reason. It was nice to know that he had not withheld the truth from her – even though she was damning herself for even thinking that he would lie to her.

“It sounds as though you had quite the eventful night, then,” YN leant forward to place the book on the table in front of them before standing up, “Are you able to get yourself to your bedchamber, or are you staying here for the night?”

Harry grunted slightly, his head rolling to the side slightly to look out of the window behind him.

“What was that?” YN pressed, inching a step closer towards him, “You will have to use your words, Harry, I do not speak in grunt.”

“I do not wish to go to bed,” Harry mumbled with a shake of his head, “I do not wish to go to bed because the bed will be cold, and empty and you will be down the hall.”

YN’s lips parted slightly in shock. She knew that Harry was drunk, and therefore his inhibitions were lowered but there must have still been an aspect to it that was the truth. There was a slight part of her that was slightly annoyed by his words. She was annoyed that it had taken him a year into their marriage, on a night when he was drunk to say anything of this sort to her.

YN shook her head, “Harry, you must go to bed and sleep this off.”

“No, we do not have to go to bed,” He reached out to grab her hands, pulling her closer to him, “We can stay here, and we can talk, and you can sit next to me.”

“We cannot,” YN shook her head, unable to stop the pull he had on her, “We must sleep, otherwise we will not get anything done tomorrow.”

“That is fine, YN, we can have a day.” Harry nodded his head, “We could… we could just… we could be together tonight and tomorrow, and it would not matter.”

YN sighs, and she attempts to take a step backwards, but Harry instead wraps his arm around her waist. He rests his head against her stomach, and she can feel the heat of his skin through the thin material of her nightgown. The feeling itself was like pinpricks across the expanse of her skin.

YN did not know what to do – she did not know what to think. Instead of trying to pull away from him (which was impossible due to how tightly he had wrapped himself around her), and against her better judgment – she gave in to him. This was the closest that they had physically been to each other since their wedding day, and she knew it was wrong but there was a part of her that did not want this to end just yet.

Instead of pulling away, her fingers found their way through his hair until they were resting in the curls at the nape of his neck.

He sighed against her stomach, causing heat to rush over her skin that she had never experienced in her life. If this is what she was missing out on, she was cursing herself for not forcing them to have a conversation. She supposed that Harry’s behaviour tonight had made it so they had no choice in the matter.

“Harry,” YN whispered, bringing her hands from the nape of his neck towards his cheeks so that she could pull his face away from her and look at him, “Let us go to bed.”

“No,” He shook his head again, “I told you; I do not want to.”

“Harry,” YN sighed, running her finger across the skin of his cheekbone, “You are not listening to me – let us go to bed.”

When YN woke up the next morning, everything felt different.

This was still her room. There were still her curtains hanging above the windows, her bed she was laid upon and still her books that rested upon every shelf in the room – but things were different.

YN often woke up when the light started to seep through the crack in her curtains, and today was no different. This time, however, she was not alone in doing so.

Her entire body felt warm. There was an excess of heat covering her from behind, an arm wrapped so tightly around her waist making it so even if she wanted to escape – there was no way in which she would be able to. Harry’s head pressed firmly into her neck, his steady breathing causing goosebumps to cover her entire body.

Last night, after Harry had finally registered the words that YN was saying – he had allowed her to direct him to her bedchamber. She had tried not to, but she had been unable to redirect her eyes when he had stripped off his jacket, shirt, and trousers before climbing into her bed. They did not talk, only looked at one another. They had settled into bed for the first time since their wedding day a year ago together, without a single conversation as to why between them. Harry had pulled YN’s body close to his, and they had fallen asleep – and that was it.  

YN knew that it was early in the morning, and Harry would probably need a few more hours or so to sleep off the remnants of last night – but there was no way that YN would manage to fall back asleep. YN tried to pull Harry’s arm off of her, but he grunted slightly, and his arm felt even tighter than it had done before.

YN sighed, unable to do anything but move slightly so that she was on her back and could face Harry. There was something so boyish about his features when he was asleep. It was as though all the stress of being an adult left him the second he was asleep, and YN felt a sort of privilege that she was able to witness him in this state.

It was this that caused YN to lift her hand and run her finger along the soft skin of his cheek – just in the way that she had done last night. Her body jumped slightly in his arms when his eyes opened. This was, in fact, the closest she had ever been to him – and the fact that she could see those green eyes of his looking so closely caused her stomach to somersault.

“It is too early,” He whispered hoarsely to her, “Go back to sleep.”

YN chuckled slightly, her fingers slipping back through his hair, “The children will be awake soon.”

“And we have a staff willing and ready to help with them,” He mumbled, dropping his head further into her neck, “Go back to sleep.”

YN lightly shook her head again, “Even if I tried, I highly doubt it would be possible. Even so, the children have missed out on so much learning these last few months – and I am excited to get them back into a classroom.”

“Another day is not going to harm them,” YN could feel Harry’s lips moving against her neck as he spoke, and then they closed, and he left the lightest of kisses on her skin.

“Harry…” YN whispered, her head pulling away from his slightly so that she could look into his eyes, “What are you doing?”

Harry sighed, his head lulling backwards so that he was laid on his back, just as she was. Whilst they needed to have this conversation, there was a part of her that wondered whether or not being laid in her bed, with Harry possibly having what YN would deem as a slightly delicate condition was the best place for this.

“I…” Harry sighed, lifting his hand to his forehead, “I do not know.”

YN’s breath caught slightly in her throat, “You do not know?”

“I do know, but I do not want to offend or upset you,” Harry sighs, turning his head so that he is looking at her again.

YN sighed, reaching out to grab Harry’s hand, “Whatever it is, you must tell me, Harry. I am your wife; you can tell me anything.”

Harry lifted their joint hands to his lips so that he could place a kiss on the back of her hand, “I understand that when we married, we did so for ease. It was the best thing for us both at that time, and I understand that you may not feel the same but…”

His words stopped, and his eyes dropped down to her lips, lingering for just a moment before they bounced back up to her eyes.

“I may not feel the same how, Harry?”

Harry hesitated for a second, “That I feel as though my affections for you have grown.”

“Harry…” YN whispered, shaking her head lightly, “You cannot… You cannot say such words to me if you do not mean it…”

“I do,” Harry nodded, “I do mean it. I have meant it for a while now, but I never dared to say so. It seemed that all I needed was some liquid courage, and I could not stop myself.”

YN chuckled, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his, “You should not have been scared to speak your mind, Harry.”

“What?” He whispered.

“You should not have been scared to speak your mind because then you would have found out that I feel the same.”

Harry’s face broke out into a smile, and it was quickly after that YN’s followed. He lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair away from her face. It was then that her heart rate began to speed up – when his face started itching closer to hers. Just as she thought that Harry was going to place his lips against hers, the door to YN’s room burst open.

YN pulled her body away from Harry’s, lifting slightly to see Honorah bouncing towards them – still in her nightgown and having obviously just woken up.

“What is it, Norah?” YN smiled at the little girl, watching as she pulled herself up onto YN’s bed.

“I went to Papa’s room, but he was not there, so I came here to find you and I found Papa too!” The little girl smiled, crawling up the bed so that she could drop down between YN and Harry at the top.

“You found us,” Harry mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his little girl’s head as she cuddled up to him, “How did you sleep?”

Honorah nodded her head, “Very well. I dreamt of horses, and I have decided I quite like them.”

YN chuckled, “That sounds lovely, Norah. We shall have to take you to the stables at some point to visit the horses.”

“Really?” Her entire face broke out into a beaming smile, and she began to tell her father all about the horse in her dream.

As much as it had pained her to admit it before, this is exactly what YN had imagined mornings being married to Harry would be like. Lazing in bed with him, before being interrupted by the children and forcing them to begin their day sounding like complete and utter bliss. YN’s could not have been fuller than it was right now, but then she slowly realised that was not the case when the final part of the puzzle walked through the door.

“Good morning, Noah,” YN smiled, holding her hand out to the boy, “Norah was just telling us about her dream, do you wish to join us?”

The boy seemed to hesitate for a second before nodding, reaching out to grab YN’s hand and make his way onto the bed.

“Only for a little while, though,” He nodded with a shrug, “I am ready to break my fast.”

YN laughed, watching as Noah joined Harry and Norah in their conversation. To YN, it was at this moment that she truly felt as though she was a wife. That she was Harry’s wife.

YEAR SIX

Just as YN thought that one part of the puzzle that was her life had been laid to rest, another part reared its head to her.

YN wished for children.

Just as it was with the idea of marriage, in the past, she had been fine with pushing that thought out of her head and coming to terms with the fact that it was just not her fate. When she thought she was to spend her days as nothing more than a governess, the mere thought of children of her own was laughable.

Now that she was a wife, it was no longer laughable – and she wanted more.

YN knew how children were conceived, and she knew that with the amount that YN and Harry had been doing that act, there was a chance that she could be pregnant, and yet (just as it had been before) neither one spoke of it. YN was beginning to be infuriated by it.

“You know,” Harry spoke from the side of her as they lay in his bed, “To read a book, you have to look at the words on the page.”

YN had not even noticed that she had stopped reading the book she had in her hand and instead was staring above the words and at the rest of the room. YN sighed and closed the book, dropping it down with a slight thud on the bedside table next to her.

“I guess I am just not in the mood to read,” YN sighed, slipping down so that her head was on the pillow, and she could bring the covers up and over her body.

“That is not like you,” Harry turned to face her, a slight smirk settling over his features, “Are you in the mood for something else?”  

YN rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, “Of course you would think that. No, Harry, I am just not in the mood to read.”  

“Since when can a book not capture your attention?” He reached over and placed a finger upon her cheek, lighting and tapping the skin so she would turn and face him, “Some may say I can read you like a book… what is wrong?”

YN turned upon her side, slipping her arm underneath her head as she stared at Harry, those eyes of his offering her an ounce of comfort at a time in which her mind was filled with different thoughts.

“Do you ever… do you ever think about having another child? With me?”

Harry went silent, his eyes squinting slightly before he turned away from YN. Her heart dropped and the comfort that had been there immediately disappeared the second that his eyes were not on her.

“I… I do not know,” Harry spoke after a second or so.

YN’s breath caught slightly, “You do not know?”

“I do not know,” Harry slightly tipped his head at her, “I have not ever thought about it.”

YN turned once more so that she was facing the ceiling, not wanting his face to be in her eyeline anymore. Whilst she had spent days, maybe even weeks or possibly months thinking upon this topic, imagining all of the possibilities of how this conversation would take place – she had never allowed herself to think upon this as one of them.

She supposed in part that was her fault – for allowing her thoughts to run away with her without any true evidence.

“I am sorry, I should not have brought the topic up,” YN spoke after a few minutes or so, before deciding that it was probably time to leave it altogether. She quickly pulled the covers off her, “I shall retire to my room tonight, I think.”  

“No,” Harry reached to grab her hand before she could stand up, “You do not have to do that.”

YN shook her head and pulled her hand out of his, “I just wish for a moment alone.”

YN stood up, reaching over for her gown to wrap around her body. She turned and saw Harry still lying in bed, this time with his hand over his face. It did not seem as though he was going to say anything, so she took that as her cue to leave the room.

Just as YN was about to reach for the door handle, Harry stopped her, “I cannot see you go through that.”

YN stopped her movements and turned to face him, “What?”

“I have witnessed first-hand what pregnancy can do to a woman,” Harry sat up, pulling the covers off his body, and moving towards the edge of the bed, “I cannot… I will not let you go through that.”

It all made sense to her now. The reason Harry had never even thought about it. She was ashamed of herself that she had not even thought of it. He had lost his first wife during childbirth, and he was afraid of the same for her.

“Harry…” YN took a step closer to him, watching as his slightly glassy eyes met hers.

“I know that you love the children, you truly do,” Harry spoke, “Are they not enough?”

YN was slightly taken aback by that question, and in turn, she ended up taking a step away from him, “I cannot believe you would say such a thing.”

Harry sighed, his head dropping forward slightly as he rested his hands upon his knees, “I am only saying what is the truth.”

“No, what you are saying is an excuse – what you are saying is nothing more than offensive,” YN shook her head, “I understand your worries, Harry, I truly do but what I cannot understand is you ever saying that Noah and Honorah are not enough for me!”

Harry sighed, his eyes failing to meet hers, “I apologise, YN, I should have never said such things.”

“No,” YN quickly retorted, “You should not have said such things, and yet you have! I only wished to discuss the topic with you Harry and I would never do a thing that you do not wish to do.”

Harry nodded, finally meeting her eyes again, “I understand, I apologise again.”

“We share the love of two beautiful children, Harry,” YN sighed, unable to comprehend why she was even having to explain the love she held for the children, “I apologise for wanting to just share our love in a child of our own.”

Harry gasped, and YN was shocked herself that those words had left her lips. Whilst YN had felt that feeling, love, for Harry for longer than she could put a timeline on – they had never said those words. If the conversation surrounding children had not caused animosity between the two of them, she worried if he did not return the favour that this certainly would. It was their cycle, one that no matter how much they attempted to change – YN feared they never would.

Harry did not say anything, and instead stood up and walked towards her. YN worried as to what it could be that he would say to her, or if he would indeed just walk past her altogether. Instead, he reached for her hands.

“Of course, I wish that we could share… share our love with a child but…” Harry shook his head, “I cannot lose you, YN. I love you too much. I need you too much. I fear, well, I would not be able to go on if anything were to happen to you.”

YN just sighed, taking a step forward to wrap her arms around his waist, her head falling upon his bare chest, “You will not lose me, Harry.”

“You do not know that,” He muttered against her hairline, “You cannot promise me that.”

“I know I cannot,” YN pulled away, looking up at those green eyes of his, “But… your fear, Harry, and whilst I am not diminishing it could also not be the case.”

Harry sighed, “I love you so much, YN.”

“Then, please,” YN rested her hand upon his cheek, “Think about it.”

Harry leaned down, placing the lightest of kisses upon her lips, “For you… I will.”

After quite a struggle, YN had just managed to get the children down and in bed, both of them deciding today was the day that they did not need a bedtime – and that they were both, in fact, too grown up for a bedtime.

Once she had finally managed to wrangle them into their beds, she wanted nothing more than to drop into bed with her husband and sleep the day off. The only problem was when she walked into their bedchamber – he was nowhere to be found.  She set off throughout the house, looking at all of the different spots she usually found him in. It was not until she spotted a light coming from underneath the door to his study that a small smile crossed her face.

The door was slightly ajar, almost as though he had left it slightly open in hopes that she would find him. She stepped into the room and saw him sitting at his desk, with his books open on the desk in front of him. She knew that he had to be busy to still be working.

Harry had his eyes down, resting his head against his hands. He seemed stressed. YN leaned against the door, a small smile crossing her lips as she watched him. 

“If you continue to furrow your eyebrows like that they will stay that way,” YN joked, watching as his eyes lifted to her.

YN watched as the furrow in his eyebrow ceased, and his chest emptied the air that he had been holding in. It was as though all of the stress in his body had dissipated the second that he saw him in the room. She had not seen him all day, and whilst she had missed him – it was evident just by the look on his face now that he had missed her too.

“Forever jesting,” Harry smiled, leaning back in his chair.

YN shrugged, “You married me for a reason.”

“That I did,” Harry sighed. He held his hands out, beckoning her to come closer to him. YN walked towards him, placing her hands in his and accepting his invitation to sit on his lap, “How are the children?”

YN groaned, dropping her head back slightly, “They have decided that they do not need a bedtime anymore. That they are old enough to go to bed whenever they decide it is time.”

Harry’s body shook with laughter slightly, “I fear the older Noah gets, the more difficult he will become.”

“It certainly seems that way,” YN smiled, her fingers threading through those curls at the nape of his neck, “Are you coming to bed anytime soon?”

Harry sighed, pursing his lips slightly, “I can certainly be persuaded to come to bed.”

YN rolled her eyes, shaking her head at Harry’s words, “I should have known that was going to be your motive.”

Harry’s hands found their place on YN’s waist, his thumb itching ever so closer to the swell of her breast, “I do not know what you mean.”

“You have that glint in your eyes,” YN noted, pulling back from him slightly, “The one you have when you are scheming something.”

“No schemes here,” Harry shook his head, holding his arms up in surrender, “It is just if I am not mistaken… the best time of the month.”

YN could not help the pull of her cheeks that his words caused. It was one thing that YN had noticed very quickly about Harry, even more so when their relationship had turned into what it is now – he remembered everything. Everything that YN told him that was of some sort of importance, he remembered. Even if it was not of much importance, just a tiny, small thing that YN had mentioned in passing, he remembered. It was probably one of the things that YN found the most endearing about Harry. 

When YN and Harry had their conversation about children, it had taken him a few weeks to come to terms with her request. She had left him to think about it and assured her that if anything were to happen, he would be prepared. He would make sure the greatest doctors were at their beck and call the second that anything seemed wrong, and he would ensure her safety at every point. With these in mind, he had decided to oblige her request.

But, when YN saw Harry’s smug expression there was a part of her that knew that at this point, he had no qualms with what she had asked.

“Well, then,” YN smiled, “Since it is the best time of the month, shall we retire upstairs?”

“I was thinking that the best course of action was to shut the door,” YN bit her lip, attempting to suppress her smile but it was no use. She immediately clambered off his lap to shut the door to the room that they were in.

When YN turned back around from the door, Harry had moved so that he was leaning against the front of his desk. For a moment, she just stared at him. She was unable to control the wave of desire that rushed over her body just at the sight of him. It was crazy to believe that just over a year ago they had not slept in each other’s bed and that these feelings had not yet reached the surface. Now, YN could not sleep without Harry beside her.

YN attempted to not think of the past, and instead, she was to focus on the future.

YN took light steps towards him, not stopping until she was in between his open legs. It was then that he almost pounced on her. With such rigour, he dropped his lips down to hers so that their faces all but smashed together, but YN did not mind. Her hands grasped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him even closer to her if that was possible.

“YN,” Harry mumbled against her lips, wrapping his arms around her waist until they rested in the small of her back.

It was not long before their hands were pulling the clothes off their bodies piece by piece. Harry was especially skilled at unlacing a corset, something that made their recent penchant for these activities all the easier to complete. There was something about the comfortability with their movements, the ease, that YN had both longed for and never thought would be a possibility. It was now that they knew the ins and outs of each other, they knew what made each other tick more than anyone else in this world.

Their movements quickened in their speed, and Harry’s body fell back slightly. YN ignored the sound of the items that had once lined Harry’s desk falling to the floor. YN would be lying if she said that this had not happened once or twice in this room and that they did not know the logistics of it. She would be lying even more so if she said that they did not know the logistics of most of the rooms in the house.

Harry’s lips slipped from hers and across her cheek, placing light kisses until they reached her neck. Harry was completely, and utterly obsessed with her neck. He always put the most kisses on the skin between her neck and her collarbone, when they were in bed that was where his head was always placed. The one that excited YN the most was always when they were in public, and Harry pushed her hair off her neck. His fingertips would always linger there, and the touch was always ever so light that it would set her skin alight.

It was always tough work to get him off her neck once he was there, but a tug on the curls at the nape of his neck was always enough to pull him off her and elicit the lightest of moans from his lips. His hands moved down and came to rest at the seam of her chemise, pushing the lace up ever so slightly so that his fingers could rest on the skin of her thighs. His fingertips scratched her skin lightly, causing her to moan into his mouth.

YN pulled away from him slightly so that she could help him unfasten his trousers and pull them swiftly down his legs.

“Eager?” He mumbled against her lips again, his hands pushing her chemise up until they were resting upon her waist.

YN shook her head, “Not eager, just fed up with your constant teasing.”

Harry did not reply. Instead, he picked her up and switched their positions. She landed on the desk with a slight thud, eliciting a moan from her lips. Harry wasted no time in slipping his fingers underneath the thin strap of her chemise, allowing it to fall from her shoulder and expose her chest to him. As the material fell, Harry purposefully slowed his movements so that the soft material rubbed against her pert nipples. To her, it was truly as though he knew her exact strings to pull.  

“You are teasing again,” YN mumbled, pulling away from him slightly in hopes that he would stop the teasing. She should have known better.

His hands grasped at her waist, his fingers setting her skin on fire. He pulled her towards the edge of the desk so that his lips could attach to her nipple. YN gasped, her back arching towards Harry’s body.

He pulled away, his chin resting on the exposed skin of her chest, “You knew what I was like when you married me.”

YN shook her head, wrapping her legs around his body to pull him closer to her, “Not in this capacity I did not.”

Harry laughed, placing a kiss on her skin once more before his lips caught her nipple again. His hands ran up the exposed skin of her thigh once more, pushing it all the way up to her waist until she was exposed to him. His eyes locked with hers again, the slight darkness in them causing a shiver to run across YN’s body and pool in the pit of her stomach.

His assault moved downwards until he was face to face with her. He gripped the skin of her thighs, pulling his legs upwards until they were resting upon his shoulders. She bit her lip in an attempt to conceal the illicit sounds that threatened to escape them. There was nothing that could have helped her when his head lurched forward, his mouth attaching to her immediately.

“God, Harry…” Her body fell backwards, her chest rising up and down at a record speed as he continued his movements.

The mix of continuous flicks of his tongue against her clit, mixed with the suction his lips provided brought her closer and closer to the edge within minutes. YN also wondered if there was a part to play in that in how much she had thought about this throughout the day. It was as though she had been shown something, and now her entire thoughts were consumed by it day by day.

With each second she could feel herself getting closer, and her hands found themselves attached to his hair. Her breathing quickened, and her chest rose and fell at an exasperated rate.

Then it stopped.

YN could not help the moan that passed her lips at the loss of contact, tears brimming against her waterline. She watched as Harry wasted no time in lifting his body back up to her, his lips dropping against hers once more.

“You are cruel,” She mumbled against his lips, feeling the smirk that crossed his features, “You are cruel, and you are mean.”

“I am not cruel and mean,” He responded, his hand moving between them to pull himself out. He gave his cock a few strokes before lining himself up with her, “That is just not the purpose of the best time of the month, is it?”

“It could be, but you…” YN’s words were interrupted by Harry pushing himself into her. YN gasped, her nails digging into the skin of his exposed back, “Oh, god!”

The first time that they had sex was the night of the morning they had been interrupted. YN knew that if it was not for the children, it would have probably happened then. They had spent the entire day exchanging what can only be called longing and intoxicating looks at one another. In part, it felt like both pleasure and torture. YN had been slightly nervous, she would not lie, but Harry had made her feel like the most beautiful woman on this earth. He had not rushed her, he had made her feel comfortable the entire time and most importantly, he had reassured her time and time again that they were doing this together. That this was them showing their affection for each other, in a way that two people could.

All of their sex was not like this. More often than not it was sloppy, and it was rushed, and it was in the five minutes spare they had within the day when nobody from the estate or the children wanted them. If it was not rushed, it was often very slow and sleepy – but in a different remark still sloppy.

“Oh, Harry,” YN’s hands ran down his back towards the curve of his bum, where she pressed her hands against the flesh in hopes of pushing him deeper into her.

Harry groaned against her lips, “This is what you wanted, yes? You were wanting me to fill you up?”

“It was,” YN responded, gasping when he hit that particular spot inside of her that caused her to tighten around him. His hips never stopped their assault on her, and she did not want him to. The second that he slipped his hand between their bodies to rub his thumb against her clit, she was right back to where she had been minutes prior.

Harry’s head dropped into the nape of her neck, resting there whilst he continued to move his hips faster and faster against hers. YN had tried her best to match his pace, but she could not. It was as though she could not control her body when she was with him. He knew exactly what she needed, and he would be the one to get her there.

YN’s entire body went rigid, her mouth parting as a string of moans mixed with calls of Harry’s name left her lips as she orgasmed, Harry’s following just after hers. Their chest, pressed close to one another, were heaving in sync, their breaths ragged but smiles still dancing across both of their lips.

Harry pulled out of her gently and helped her clean herself up, pulling her chemise back on so it was not revealing her in such a promiscuous way. YN laughed, accepting a kiss from Harry when he offered her a hand to help her off the table.

“Do you think it worked this time?” YN asked, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck.

“We can hope,” Harry nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “But we will not be disheartened if it has not, yes?”

“Yes,” YN nodded, saying the words as though she was trying to convince herself that they were true.

“Let us go to bed,” Harry nodded, reaching his hand out for her.

YN laughed, “We must dress first, imagine if we are to pass any of the staff in this state!”

“They have seen much worse. Now…” Harry dropped down, wrapping his arm around her legs and hoisted her up into his arms, “Let us go to bed… we can tidy in the morning.”

YN just laughed, allowing him to carry her to their room.

YN had been sitting on a blanket in the garden with Noah and Norah when it happened.

When she awoke that morning, she had certainly felt strange. YN had attempted to ignore it, to push the feeling so far down that it would not affect her day. There were things in life that YN could face head-on, with no worries about the consequences. This was something that she could not do. This broke her heart.

YN had smiled at the maid that was in the garden with them, giving her a look to instruct her to look after the children whilst she rushed inside.

She had stripped herself of her ruined clothes as quickly as she could, ordered a bath to be drawn and sunk into the water without a second thought.

They had tried and tried to conceive a child, but it seemed that no matter their efforts (which were frequent) it did not seem to stick. It was heartbreaking every time that this happened, and yet she could not control anything that happened. YN knew that she was older, but she had heard of women having children even older than her before. She just did not understand why nothing seemed to stick for her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Harry walked in with a smile on his face, “Miss Harding told me you were in here. It is not like you to have a midday bath.”

YN looked at Harry and at those kind eyes that were staring into hers, and she broke down. The sobs that left her lips were loud, and they shook her entire body. He immediately rushed over to her, kneeling by the tub so that he could wrap his arms around body, trying to soothe the sobs that were wracking through her body.

It was at that point that he noticed her discarded clothes, and the stain upon them told him everything that he needed to know.

“Oh, YN…” Harry’s lips skimmed the top of her head, the realisation and seeing her in such pain stabbed at his chest also, “I am so sorry.”

YN shook her head, leaning against his shoulder, “There is no need for you to apologise, Harry. It is not your fault… I just… I am finding it more and more difficult to deal with the disappointment time and time again.”

Harry sighed, his lips placing a light kiss on her hairline before he pulled away, “Move forward, slightly.”

YN nodded, bringing her legs closer to her chest, and moving forward slightly, She watched as Harry stripped from his clothes, dropping them on a pile by the end of the tub and allowed his body to slip into the water behind her. YN immediately relaxed into Harry’s arms, the feeling of his arms around her body offering the comfort that she needed at that time.

“I do not wish to offend you with this, my love, but…” YN dropped her head back on his shoulder, placing her hands upon his that sat on the soft skin of his thighs, “Do you think that we should stop our endeavours?”

YN pulled away to look at him, “You wish to stop having sex with me?”

“No!” Harry’s eyes immediately widened, “No, God no. I do not wish for that, at all. I just mean that… YN I cannot see you go through this month by month. I just thought that we could, stop putting such a pressure on our actions.”

YN let out a sigh of relief and dropped back down next to him, “Oh… I suppose you may be right.”

“I thought you should know by now that it is often not the case that I am not,” Harry jested from behind her, his nose nudging her cheek.

“I think you are mistaken by that,” YN retorted, shaking her head, “I am more often the one that is right, and you know it.”

“So I do,” Harry lifted his hand from the water to tap her cheek, turning her head so that their lips were inches away from each other, “I just think that if we possibly put a little less pressure on ourselves, then you would hurt less.”

As much as YN would hate to admit it again, Harry’s word did hold some truth. Whilst Harry had never put any sort of pressure upon her, she was unable to say that she did not do the same for herself. It was more often than not she found herself worrying if it was her that was the cause of the problems. Harry had two beautiful children already, and yet the only difference between then and now was YN – and that therefore meant that she had to be the problem which was occurring.

“I think that is the best course of action,” YN nodded, dropping her head forward so that her forehead rested against his.

It was not long before he leant forward and placed his lips against hers. The kiss was soft, and light and the only word that YN could use to describe it was loving. It was as though no matter what mood YN found herself in or what was possibly going on in her head – the only thing that ever brought her out of such was him.

Harry’s hand lifted to rest against her cheek, resting against the soft skin and in part brushing all of the worry out of her body. It was a shock to her at what his touch did to her. She never, ever wanted it to end. She was the one to pull away first, placing her head against his shoulder again.

“We shall take the pressure off,” YN nodded, “And wait to see what happens.” “It will happen when the time is right,” Harry placed his head against hers, “And we should not worry ourselves until that time.”

YEAR SEVEN

From the last time that YN felt strange, this one was different.

The feeling itself was nothing that YN would say was significant – but it was there. She waited for the moment that her courses would come and prove to her that whatever she was feeling was just the prerequisite to that – and yet it never did.

YN tried not to worry herself, or to let her mind spiral but it was often difficult not to. It was as though there were some things that her mind just had to run free with. She did not tell Harry of her thoughts, as she did not want to worry him or to let him get his hopes up for something which could not be true just yet. That it could once again just be her mind playing tricks on her.

That was until, a month or so after her courses should have arrived that she started to feel waves of nausea race over her.

That was when her suspicions grew more into what she would deem to be facts. Her missed courses, the nausea, her constant state of fatigue and the fact that foods that she had once loved turned her stomach in ways that she could not express.

These feelings, which had been slight at first soon grew into something that she could not hide.

It was just a random Thursday that she had woken up and felt quite unwell, and whilst she had truly tried to get up and get herself ready for the day – she just could not.

The only way in which YN’s stomach did not churn uncontrollably was if she was laid down. That is how she found herself, on a lounger by the window in the drawing room. Her arm was covering her eyes, and she was focusing on nothing but her breathing – that was the only way in which to settle her stomach.

Even when she heard the door open, and Harry walked into the room – YN could not muster the energy to lift her arm and greet him. She could hear him talking to her, and yet her ears could not focus on the words that he was saying.

It was not until he dropped himself on the edge of the lounger she was laid on was it that she finally turned to greet him, but it was certainly not the greeting he was possibly expecting.

“Why do you smell like that?”

Harry chuckled, “Did you not hear me saying that I had just returned from my morning ride?”

“No,” YN shook her head, her features grimacing, “If I had, I would not be asking you why you smell like that.”  

“It is nice to know that you listen to me,” Harry jested, leaning forward to place either one of his arms around her body. He leant forward in hopes that she would return the favour, and yet she did not. She placed her hand on his chest and pushed him away from her.

“You… The smell…” YN placed her hand over her mouth, pushing Harry out of the way so that she could reach the chamber pot she had left at the side of her on the lounger.

Harry dropped down next to her, pulling her hair back from around her face. He was confused, and even more so when he reached out to wrap his arm around her body and she pushed him away once again.

“Do not come near me,” She held her hand out, instructing him to stay where he was, “You smell horrid.”

“Are you ill?” Harry ignored her orders, “Do I need to fetch a doctor?”

YN shook her head, leaning back against the lounger, “That is not necessary.”

“YN, you must tell me if you are ill,” YN sighed at his words, her annoyance growing by the second, “I cannot bear to see you in pain.”

YN raised her hand to cover her eyes once more, “I am not ill in the way that you think.”

“Then what is it?”

YN tried to swallow the feeling that was bubbling within her, but she could not, “Is there no way that you could change, or maybe even wash before we have this conversation?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “YN tell me what it is right now.”

YN sighed, turning to meet his eyes despite her stomach’s protests, “I have… evidence to believe that I am with child.”

Harry’s eyes widened as he looked upon her, “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” YN did not mean to snap, but she could not lie and say that her patience was not wearing thin with him, “I said that I believe I am with child.”

“I heard what you said, I just…” Then, his face broke out into a smile, “It is just that I am slightly in shock, but I cannot say not overjoyed by the news – and possibly a little apprehensive.”

Harry attempted to move closer to her, but she pushed him back once more.

“Harry, I wish nothing more than to hug you and kiss you right now to celebrate but I fear if you come any closer to me you might receive something else entirely.”

Harry finally understood what it was that she was saying to him. He stood up and immediately started to unbutton his coat and his shirt. He removed his suspenders, and his trousers came next until he was stood in nothing but his underwear in front of her.

“Would this suffice?” He held his arms open in front of her.

YN laughed, “You will have to come closer for me to make my decision.”

Harry laughed as he dropped back down beside her, wrapping his arms around his wife. He lifted her with such care and ease until she was upon his lap. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“We are having a baby?” He smiled, immediately leaning forward to capture her lips with his, “I cannot quite believe it.”

“Well, I cannot say for certain, but I do think that it is highly likely,” YN nodded, accepting the light kisses he was giving her through her words.

Sighing, YN pursed her lips in an attempt to keep her feelings down. Without his clothes on was certainly much better, but the smell was still lingering around him, and going straight towards her stomach.  

“Harry, I am sorry, but you need to bathe,” YN pushed herself up and off his lap, “I cannot be around you until you do.”

“I thought you vowed to love me – smell and all?” He pouted, still making no movements to stand up.

YN shook her head, “That was before such a smell did this to me. Please, freshen up and then we can continue our conversation.”

Harry just nodded, pushing himself up until he was standing, “I shall wash straight away.”

“I need to leave this room,” YN shook her head, walking towards the door, “Can you open the windows before you leave to air it out?”

Harry laughed but did as his wife wished. His wife that was indeed carrying their child.

“I must say, it’s been too long since you have been in my shop, YN,” Miss Francis spoke, passing her friend who sat on the settee in her shop a cup of tea, “I might have to come and have words with that husband of yours to let you free every once in a while.”

YN chuckled, “You should have seen him this morning. I said that I needed to come and see you and he was readying himself to join us.”

Miss Francis gasped and shook her head, dropping down on the settee with her cup of tea in her hand also.

As much as YN hated to admit it – she had slightly neglected Miss Francis and her friendship since she was married. She, of course, saw her whenever she needed a dressmaking or something altered – but they both knew that was not good enough. Miss Francis had been there with her through thick and thin, and she hated that it had let it get this bad.  

“Well, if I was worried about whether or not he loved you – I’m certainly not worried about that now,” Miss Francis offered the younger girl a smile, but that dropped once she saw the expression on YN’s face, “What is that face for? Are you… is everything okay?”

YN offered Miss Francis a small smile and placed the cup down on the table in front of them. She turned and reached over to grab the older woman’s hand.

“I need to apologise to you, Miss Francis,” YN spoke, squeezing Miss Francis’ hand.

Miss Francis furrowed her eyebrows, placing her cup down, “Whatever for, my dear?”

YN sighed, “For getting married, and not coming to visit you as often. It was despicable of me, and I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”

Miss Francis laughed with a shake of her head, “You do not need to apologise to me, silly girl. You were a newlywed; I am just your modiste – there is no reason to apologise for not coming to see me without a need for it.”

“No,” YN shook her head, “Miss Francis, you are not just a modiste to me. You are my friend I would say that you are my best friend. You encouraged me to marry, you held my hand the morning of my wedding. You gave me your family’s jewels to wear at the ball. And I… well I handled the changes in my life poorly when it came to you. I therefore need to apologise to you.”

When YN looked back up at Miss Francis, her heart broke at the sight of her watery eyes. She had never felt disappointment in herself like this before, and she was angry. She was angry at herself for abandoning this woman.

“YN,” Miss Francis shook her head, “All of that does not matter to me. I was happy just knowing that you were happy.”

“I am happy,” YN nodded, “And I promise you that I will never let it get to this again. I will come to see you as much as I can until… well…”

Miss Francis furrowed her eyebrows, reaching forward to pick up a biscuit, “Until what?”

YN pursed her lips in an attempt to hold back her smile, and yet she could not do it. This had been the real reason that YN had wanted to come and make amends for the guilt that she had been feeling. When she had finally come to terms with the fact that she was pregnant a few days ago, the first person (besides Harry) that she had wanted to tell was Miss Francis. She had wanted to tell her straight away, but it had taken her a few days for the nausea to not be so bad, and in fact for her to be able to get up and ready and even contemplate leaving the house. Harry had not left her alone these past few days, doing everything that he could to make her comfortable. That was why when she had felt fine this morning and had asked Harry to make sure the carriage was ready to take her into town – Harry had tried and tried to get her to allow him to come with her.

It had taken YN explaining to Harry the reason behind the visit, and how she needed to do this on her own for Harry to finally let her go without him. It was under the stipulation that she would go there and come straight back, and if she started to feel ill at any point she had to return immediately. YN, not wanting to upset him anymore nodded and accepted the stipulations with a light kiss to his lips. Any of the turning in her stomach that she felt today was more the nerves of the conversation she was going to have – rather than a cause of the baby.

“Let us just say that… life might be turned around once more in eight months.”

Miss Francis gasped, dropping the biscuit she had in her hand onto her lap and leaning over to wrap her arms around the younger woman. YN laughed, swaying with Miss Francis as they embraced.

“Oh, YN,” Miss Francis pulled away, the tears in her waterline now ones of joy, “I am so happy for you, darling.”

YN had her own tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. Another part of this which she had not expected to experience as well as the nausea was the up and down of her emotions. Harry, who probably had prior knowledge of this, had taken her constant changes of mood like a champ thankfully. YN, however, was struggling slightly with the changes.

“I wanted to tell you,” YN nodded, “I needed to tell you. I need you to be with me throughout this.”

“Of course, I will, darling,” Miss Francis smiled, running her hand across YN’s cheek, “I will be here for anything that you need.”

“Thank you,” YN nodded.

It was then that Miss Francis sprung up into action, walking over to the trunk where YN had brought some of her dresses with her. YN knew better than to interrupt Miss Francis when she was working, so instead she stood up and allowed the older woman to boss her around the way she needed her to.

“I did wonder when you showed up with the trunk what was happening,” Miss Francis spoke pulling the dresses out, “I should have known.”

“It is just the ones that I think with a bit of altering should have some give,” YN nodded, allowing the older woman to hold the dress up to her body, “Harry said I should have some new ones made but I do not see the need.”

“You might have to, YN,” Miss Francis explains, “Depending on how much altering I can do to these dresses.”

“Well,” YN offers Miss Francis a smile, “You have never been one to turn down a challenge.”

“That I have not,” Miss Francis laughs, “Now, you have to tell me everything. How did you tell Mr Styles?

“It is not quite the story you imagine it to be, I am afraid,” Then the two women broke out into a fit of giggles and it was as though nothing had happened between them at all.

Nathaniel Styles entered the world a mere eight months later.

Eight months of what some might conclude as torture, but others may count as bliss. YN had realised that her pregnancy would be a mixture of the two. She possibly should have realised when the first few months of her pregnancy were torture that she was not necessarily going to have the easiest pregnancy. It had been easy to realise that this experience was beautiful, and YN would not have changed it for the world – it was also difficult for her.

It had also taken a toll on Harry. He had already been particularly attentive before her pregnancy, but it seemed as though it was even more so when she got pregnant. She should have known the way that he acted when she had first told him that she was pregnant and that he was going to be that way. If she thought that Harry was bad before, the closer they were to welcoming their bundle of joy into the world – the more that he would not leave her alone at all. He was there, always in the room with her and ready to be there if anything happened. YN, whilst she may not have said so during time, was thankful for him.

By the time that YN had realised she was in labour, there had been no time to do anything. If Harry had not devoted himself to being close to her at all times (especially during the latter part of the pregnancy) then she would have worried about him missing the birth.

It was slightly scary the speed at which her labour progressed, there was not even any time to call for a doctor, or even Harry’s mother or Miss Francis. She had to rely upon Harry and the maids that were at hand in the house.

Whilst Harry had tried his very hardest to not make it obvious that he was worried, YN knew him too well and knew that he was. The speed at which her labour was progressing was the thing that worried him more than anything. It was as though he had kept worrying about something going wrong, and yet nothing ever seemed to.

It was in the mid-afternoon when their baby boy made his way into the world, making their two other children siblings once more.

Harry had not put Nathaniel down since he had made his entrance into the world. One of the first things that caused YN to fall in love with Harry was the love and care that he had for his children, and now that they had one of their own – that had certainly not changed. YN had been resting in the bed, unable to take her eyes off her husband sitting on the lounger next to the window, with their baby boy placed on his chest. Nathaniel was sleeping soundly against his father’s chest, obviously finding the comfort he needed in the skin-to-skin contact.

There was not a single sound in the room apart from a babble from Nathaniel now and then, until there was a knock at the door. YN’s face broke into a smile when she saw Anne, Harry’s mother peering her head into the room.

Anne held a similar smile on her face, “Are you up for any visitors?”

“Of course, I am,” YN beamed, any ounce of fatigue immediately dissipating from her body. She watched as Noah and Norah walked into the room, both of them rushing around the bed and towards her.

“Is that him? My baby brother?” Noah pointed to the baby bundled against Harry’s chest, his face beaming out into a smile.

“It is,” YN smiled, her head dropping against her shoulder as she watched the two older children walk closer to their new sibling.

It was not often that YN would say that she saw the two of them nervous. They were such confident children; it was so out of character for them. There was nothing in this world that scared them, and yet for some reason, they both seemed that way about meeting their new brother. As the children inched closer to their father, YN felt the bed dip at the side of her. She smiled as she saw Anne sitting there, immediately reaching out to grab YN’s hand.

“How are you feeling?” Anne asked, pushing some of YN’s hair out of her face slightly.

YN smiled, accepting the woman’s comforting touch, “Tired, but I am well. It all seemed to happen very quickly.”

“Harry’s birth was just the same,” Anne smiled, “If you need anything, do not be afraid to ask.”

YN smiled, “Thank you.”

Both of the women’s attention immediately turned to Harry, who was instructing Noah on how best to sit to hold his brother in his arms. The eldest boy’s eyes were wide, and he was listening to every word from his father’s mouth as he spoke.

“Keep your arms together, just like that,” Noah nodded, watching as his father moved Nathaniel from his arms and placed him down in his sons. His face broke into a smile once the little boy was safe and secure in his arms.

“He’s so small,” Noah commented, his eyes wide as he looked up to YN for just a second until they dropped back down to his brother.

“Well,” Harry sighed, reaching over to run the back of his finger across the expanse of Nathaniel’s small cheek, “You both were once this small.”

“Really?” Norah’s eyes lit up, “But you always say that I am your big girl.”

Harry nodded, suppressing a chuckle slightly before he reached his arm out to wrap around his daughter’s body, pulling her into the side of him, “You are my big girl, but you were once my small girl too, but you will always be my baby.”

Norah smiled, accepting the kiss that Harry placed on her cheek. It was very quickly that (just as her brother’s) Norah’s attention was placed upon her little brother, who had interrupted his sleep once again to let out a small whine before falling straight back into a slumber.

“Look at that,” YN smiled, “He feels safe with his big brother.”

Noah smiled once more before it was replaced with one of concern when Nathaniel broke out into tears, his little face turning red and his eyebrows furrowing. Noah’s eyes widened, looking between Harry and YN with a panic-stricken face.

“It is okay, bud,” Harry chuckled slightly, an amused glint in his eyes as they met YN’s, “He must be hungry.”

YN and Anne both chuckled from their place on the bed, watching as Noah angled his arms towards Harry slightly so that he could take his brother off him.

“I think that is our cue to leave,” Anne smiled, squeezing YN’s hand one last before climbing off the bed, “I am sure that there’s some trouble that we can get up to.”

YN smiled, opening her arms wide so that both Noah and Norah could come and hug her and kiss her before they left. Norah had a pouting face as she came over to YN. The older woman attempted to wipe it off her face, but she could not.

“And what is with that face, Norah?” YN teased, running her finger across the girl’s cheek lightly.

She pouted one more time, “I did not get to hold Nathaniel.”

YN smiled, placing a kiss on the younger girl’s cheek, “Your time will come, Norah, I promise. But he’s small now and needs me to feed him but I promise that once he has a full stomach – you will be the first to hold him.”

Norah sighed but alas nodded her head, “I suppose I can live with that.”

“I suppose you can,” YN smiled, “Now go, I’m sure Nana has plenty of things planned for you in the meantime.”

The children both nodded, accepting their Nana’s outstretched hands and walked out of the room. Both Harry and YN watched as the door closed behind them, a smile passing between them as it did. YN pulled herself up slightly so that she was in a sitting position, and smiled as Harry dropped down next to her, passing her Nathaniel as he did.

YN smiled at Nathaniel, and even though his little face was still red and scrunched with tears, YN would not change it for the world. Harry helped in pulling her nightgown down of herself, the act itself being sort of difficult with little Nathaniel in her arms. She sighed slightly as Nathaniel attached to her nipple, her body falling into Harry’s embrace as he wrapped his arm around YN’s shoulder, her head dropping down to his.

It was as though the second that Nathaniel had latched on, his face relaxed and peace was restored throughout his body. His eyes were wide, never leaving his parents faces as he began to eat. It was a beautiful moment, a moment that YN would never forget.

Harry sighed, lifting his free hand up to run his finger across Nathaniel’s cheek again, “He’s got your nose.”

YN chuckled slightly, trying her hardest not to shake too much and disturb the little boy pressed against her chest, “He does… it is no wonder I had so much heartburn with all of that hair – that’s certainly taking after you.”

Harry is the one who chuckles this time, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of YN’s head, “I hope he has your eyes.”

YN shook her head, turning so that she was facing Harry, “I want him to have your eyes.”

Harry smiled, leaning forward to place his forehead against YN’s. Harry’s eyes were one of the first things that YN noticed about him, and they will always be one of her favourite things about him. People always say that home is not a house, and instead can be found in a person. That was more obvious to her when she met Harry, and even more so when she looked into those green eyes of his. Those eyes, especially when they looked at her made her feel more at home than anything in this world. They were her comfort, her love, and more importantly, her home.

“Are you sure that you want him to have my eyes?” Harry questioned, pulling away slightly to look at her, “Because we both know we will not be able to say no to him.”

YN laughs before shaking her head, “I have no trouble saying no to you.”

“That is true,” Harry nods, “I suppose it shall be me that struggles to say no. I will compromise with the next one having your eyes.”

YN chuckled, “The next one?”

“Of course,” Harry sighed, “If you would want that.”

After sharing a slight chuckle between the two of them, they both turned to look at their son, who was becoming drowsier by the second. They decided that now was probably the best time to burp and place him down for a nap. Harry placed a cloth over his shoulder and carefully removed Nathaniel out of YN’s arms again, picking him up and placing him upon his shoulder.

YN watched with a smile as Harry started to walk around the room, gently rubbing Nathaniel’s back in hopes that it would coax a burp out of him. There was something so beautiful about the sight in front of her The fact that seven years ago YN had thought that marriage was out of the picture for her, and here she was now with a husband she could not love any more than she did and three beautiful children.

It was not long before Nathaniel let out the perfect burp, and his eyes began to close once more. He, so far, was the perfect baby. YN could not be luckier, and she also could not be luckier with the man she was raising him with.

“That’s it, baby boy,” YN watched as Harry swaddled the baby with a blanket, dropping him down lightly in the bassinet at the side of the bed.

There was a sigh from Nathaniel, and then not a single peep from him. Harry sighed, dropping back down on the bed next to YN, pulling her closer to him so she was resting her head on his chest. YN sighed into his body, dropping her hand upon his chest.

“Thank you,” YN mumbled, lifting her hand so that she was looking at him, “For everything.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “Thank you.”

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @lynnistired!

A/N: Thank you so much for trusting me again! This turned out a bit more sweet than expected (but still spicy). Hope you like this one, too! <3 Part 1 can be found here.

Request: I'm here to request more werebunny boyfriend the first was was too good and now I need more🙏🏽 whatever plot you want go crazy with it!!

Date a werebunny they said… (part 2)

Were-bunny x fem!reader || oral sex, praise kink, forced orgasms, mentioned somnophilia

You blinked slowly as the world came to be around your fuzzy brain, waking up after the best and worst experience of your life: your were-rabbit boyfriend’s rut.

You didn’t know how many hours passed since it started, you didn’t even know what time it was. It was dark outside, maybe a whole day went by as you got ravished? You had no idea. You passed out a couple times during the rut. Your boyfriend didn’t stop fucking you, restlessly, even when you were asleep. Your brain was too fuzzy and your body too tired to keep up with his extreme stamina.

You woke up twice because of him. He kept forcing orgasms out of you, making you scream at the top of your lungs as tears rolled down your cheeks. The pleasure so high it was painful, but so, so, so good.

The idea that he was that turned on by you made everything a thousand times more intense, and the fact that he took everything he needed from your limp body was weirdly hot. You liked the fact that he couldn’t hold back his passion around you, that he was pretty much feral for your pussy and your pleasure. After your pussy recovered, you would probably want to explore the free use thing a bit more. That thought made you feel naughty, but a spark of arousal rose inside of you.

You didn’t even know how your body still had the energy to be turned on, you felt dehydrated after so many orgasms. Even though your soft were-rabbit made you drink water any chance he got.

Third time you woke up, there was a soft and wet tongue parting your labia and kissing your oversensitive clit. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeated over and over as he licked your abused pussy.

You groaned pathetically, trying to get away from him. You wanted to tell him off, to tell him to go fuck himself or something. But you had not a single drop of energy in your body. He exhausted you so completely you couldn’t do anything but to lie there as he licked the mixture of his cum and your juices.

You were so sensitive it was almost painful, but the immense pleasure that filled you with each touch of his tongue was beyond anything you’d ever felt. He licked and sucked, making out with your pussy slowly, but with a purpose. He was trying to take everything you had and then some more. He wanted everything. But you didn’t even know if you could come anymore. It felt like an impossible quest at that point.

But he proved you wrong, licking you lazily as his fingers probed your asshole. You moaned and came again, your thighs trembling around his head, your hands holding onto his long fluffy ears. “You can’t stop coming, can you?” He asked rhetorically, looking up at you with the most tender expression you’ve ever seen on is face.

His eyes showed all his love for you, but also a spark of heat beyond it. You didn’t know if he wanted to go again, but you weren’t sure you could. Your pussy couldn’t take it. He didn’t seem to care about your tears or your whimpers, he kept playing with your pussy, eating you out like you were his new favorite snack.

He blew some hot air against your clit and you cried out. “Come on, darling, one more,” he urged. You tried to move away again, but he grabbed your legs and drew you to him again.

“I can’t. Please stop. Please. I can’t take it anymore.” Your hands pulled at his ears, trying to get him away from your abused pussy. He chuckled and kissed your clit softly, forcing a new round of whimpers out of you.

“Of course you can. One more and I promise I’ll stop.” He sucked your clit inside his mouth and you cried out his name, trembling under him.

He always wanted to make you orgasm over and over, sometimes you believed he was trying to drink your soul out of you. Sometimes you thought he liked to make you come more than coming himself. And at this point of his rut, you were 99% sure it was exactly like that. He stopped fucking you long ago, opting for making you come as he humped the mattress. In other circumstances, you would have found that hot and adorable, but at that point you felt like an exposed nerve.

“You promise?” You asked, hopeful. You didn’t know if you could take any more, you felt like floating already, like your body wasn’t yours anymore. It was his. All of you was his.

“Yes. Come for me.” You knew it was a lie, always a lie. He wouldn’t stop wanting you to come. But you couldn’t deny him, not when he was doing such a good job making out with your tender flesh. You came again, your body barely moving anymore. “Good girl, I wish you could see yourself right now. You look gorgeous all limp and drunk with pleasure. All fucked out.” He was talking to you, but looking at your pussy. You didn’t even care if he was talking about your pussy and not yourself as a person. You would gladly be just a set of holes for him to use.

You didn’t get to verbalize that idea, your eyes felt heavy as sleep claimed you once more.

He woke you up just like that at least three more times. Getting you to come and come. And after what felt like thousand orgasms later, and maybe a couple more naps in between, you woke up without a tongue inside your pussy. You sighed in relief, your voice too worn out to say anything coherent, yet.

Your pretty were-rabbit boyfriend was laying beside you, his head against the pillow, looking at you intently. “Are you okay?” He whispered. You tried to hide your blush, feeling shy for some reason. He fucked you to hell and back, and now you felt shy because he was looking at you tenderly… Sometimes you couldn’t understand your own head.

You checked your body mentally. “I think so. I don’t think I can move, though.” Your lower body felt sore all over, and your upper body pretty much the same. It felt like you went to the gym for twelve hours straight. And well... if you counted the amount of times you fucked, the gym scenario was probably a less extenuating activity.

He jumped to his feet instantly. “No worries. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll do everything for you.” He tried to fuss over you, covering you with the blanket and caressing your hair. You leaned down to his touch and sighed happily. That felt great. He offered you some water that you took gladly, helping your head up so you wouldn’t choke.

And then something inside of you went uh oh, and you felt a new urge. “I- I kinda need to pee,” you confessed.

“I take you.” He was reaching for you instantly.

The idea of him carrying your naked body to the bathroom and waiting for you to finish made you want to cringe. “What? No!” You exclaimed, trying to push your body up on the bed. And failing.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “Can you walk?” You tried to sit, and after a good three minutes you got your body to the edge of the bed, panting.

“Uh. Yes.” You tried to get up on your own, but your legs weren’t responding. Fuck. “Okay, no. I can’t walk.” He lowered his head to hide his smirk, but you saw it either way. He was proud of himself. He was happy you couldn’t walk. What a shithead. But you had to hide your own smile. “Is this my first sex injury?” You asked, jokingly. He looked at you worried, but at the sight of your smile he melted.

“Yeah, you can say it like that.” His voice was neutral, and you knew instantly that something was wrong.

You joked a bit more, trying to reduce the uncomfortable feeling setting between you. “Can’t wait to tell my friends my boyfriend injured me, sexually.”

He looked at you, his ears twitching and fluttering, embarrassed. “You… You still want to be my girlfriend?” His voice was so low you almost didn’t hear him. But, luckily, you were so close you could rise your hand and put it on his soft cheek.

“What? Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” You forced him to look at you and kissed his cute button nose, making him frown in the most adorable way. “I love you, you idiot.”

“Even if after I became a sex maniac?” The worry and self-consciousnesses behind his words made your heart hurt for him.

“Yes. I love you no matter what, you silly rabbit. You act like you didn’t make me come at least a thousand times, I enjoyed that, didn’t you realize?” You told him, smiling so big your cheeks hurt. He returned your smile and you couldn’t hold yourself back from kissing him senseless. “But no more sex for a couple days,” you added, chuckling.

“Okay, whatever you want.” He was looking at you like you held the moon, and you felt the most especial girl in the entire world.

“Now, can you get me to the bathroom or not?” You broke heartfelt the moment, as always. He laughed and moved your almost limp body across the room.

You couldn’t stop smiling, and he couldn’t either.

Don't forget you can also commission me, info here.

[coff33andb00ks]

Poison - LN

Hopeless, Part 3 {1 - Hopeless} {2 - Luxury}

Lando Norris x fem!reader / reader x Charles Leclerc) summary: perfect couldn't keep this love alive, we were always meant to say goodbye songs: already gone by sleeping at last word count: 5414 warnings: angst, reader says things she shouldn't, angst, lando says worse things, angst, charles is a bad fiance, alcohol use, oscar remains the only truly decent person in this series, angst, mentions of sexual situations (not explicit), oh and angst (not a happy ending) a.n.: I've really enjoyed writing this little series. thank you all for being as obsessed with heartbroken lando as I am <3 note: this picks up immediately after the ending of the first part {Hopeless}

You can't bring yourself to read Lando's texts. You're still in shock yourself, the last twelve hours a whirlwind that still has you spinning. So you leave that message thread untouched, and when he calls you for the tenth time you send it to voicemail, knowing you won't listen to it.

The one you listened to first thing this morning left an ache in your heart you're sure will never go away.

Is it true? You… A shaky breath, like he was fighting tears. You can't. What about – call me. Please.

You can't call him. You can't even read his texts, you don't know if you'll ever be able to speak to him. Your phone buzzes and you look at the voicemail notification, turning your phone facedown on the nightstand. Not now. You need to catch up with everything that's happened.

Behind you Charles groans and you squeeze your eyes shut as his arm tightens around you. He nuzzles the back of your head, humming while he presses kisses to your shoulder.

"Good morning," he murmurs.

You murmur it back to him, watching his hand slide down your arm to clasp yours. He lifts it, the morning sunlight catching the diamond on your finger. You're engaged. You still can't believe it. How had you gone from arguing in the garage to this? The night rewinds in your mind while Charles whispers sweet words.

The argument. Why? He'd said he'd wanted to spend the summer break in St. Tropez. After promising you over and over he would spend it with your family back in the States. St. Tropez was just a couple hours from Monaco, he could go there anytime, you rarely got to see your family. But it was his summer break, his money, his choice. Four words had burned on your tongue but you'd held them back, finally storming off to cool down.

Lando would take me.

Because of course he would. It wasn't a secret between you that he'd do everything within his power to make you happy. And you'd stood in the chilly night air, tempted to ask him to come with you to Cali for break, because you knew how much he loved LA. Then Charles had found you and…

Said all the right things.

Apologized. Validated your feelings. He'd forgotten, he was sorry, he would cancel his plans of course, the two of you would spend a lovely two weeks in California. He was so sorry, please, he would make it right.

And you'd forgiven him. As you always did.

He starts to pull away from you now, and you know it's time to get up and get ready for race day. The hotel room is a ridiculous mess, clothes from last night all over the floor, tipped over candles, scattered roses. You inwardly cringe, nodding when Charles suggests leaving a large tip for housekeeping. You tidy up a little while he's in the shower, because you can't not do it.

The ring feels heavy on your hand and you stop gathering the discarded clothes to stare at it. It's beautiful, if a little on the gaudy side, a large diamond solitaire set in platinum, diamonds all around.

"I know I have made mistakes, mon amour. But you have stood by my side and made me a better man. Please, say you'll stay by my side forever?"

It had all been too much. The roses, the candles, your favorite wine, the adoration in his eyes. You'd said yes, knowing you couldn't take the pain of saying no. And you couldn't take it back. It was too late.

Late night calls to his family in Monaco, FaceTiming with your sister and mom. Candlelit photos posted to social media.

You're going to marry Charles.

It's supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life but you feel like your world is turned upside down. You're supposed to be over the moon, already planning the wedding that you've had in mind since you were a little girl.

"We'll have the wedding of your dreams, chérie."

"What about your dream wedding?"

"My dream was you."

He'd said the right things.

You shower, standing under the hot water to ease the slight aches from the night before. He'd been more passionate than ever before, driving you over the edge countless times, twisting and bending your body with his, near constantly moaning his love for you.

There's a crowd of fans outside the hotel and you blink in surprise when they begin screaming their congratulations, still unused to the attention even after being with him for over a year. You smile and stay at his side while he signs a few things, wondering if you look as shell-shocked as you feel.

Leclerc's camera shy girlfriend, they call you online. Apparently you're goals, and you wonder what they would think if they knew the truth.

At the track it's even crazier, and you're reminded that he was called the grid's most eligible bachelor when you first began dating. How'd you pin him down, y/n?

You wish you knew.

By the time you reach the motorhome you never want to hear the word congratulations again. You stop outside, letting Leo down so he can do his business, freezing when you spot a McLaren uniform.

It's Oscar. You breathe a sigh of relief, nodding when Charles kisses your cheek and says he has to go chat with Max.

"C'mon, Leo," you encourage while the puppy sniffs the ground.

"Y/n."

You look up, smiling faintly as Oscar approaches. "Hey."

He looks at you, then at your left hand, slowly lifting his eyes to your face again. "Big night, yeah?"

"Yeah." Your cheeks hurt from your forced smile. "I guess it's a shock to everyone."

"Eh… You're right," he says. Squatting down to pet Leo, he stays down, watching the puppy. "Have you seen Lando?"

"I think Oscar suspects."

It's mumbled between heated kisses in the club bathroom. Lando moans, head falling back when your hands slip inside his jeans. "No he doesn't."

"He keeps looking at us." The heavy bass vibrates the door you're pressed against, and his hands push at your dress.

"Everyone's looking at you tonight."

Your protest to that dies on a moan because he's inside you and you forget Oscar exists.

"Not today," you tell him. Finally Leo pees in the tiny scrap of grass he found and you bend to pick him up.

"Have you talked to him?" Oscar asks softly.

"Is he missing?"

Oscar sighs, pushing upright. "He's in the garage."

You glance in that direction, even though you can't see the McLaren garage from where you are. Sighing, you hold Leo close, arms aching to hold someone else. Then, like he knows you're looking, you hear your phone start to vibrate in your purse. You don't have to look to know it's Lando.

"Are you happy?"

Your head slowly turns and you hold your breath as you look at Oscar. "What?"

"Your engagement."

You part your lips to tell him yes. To push the forced smile back into place and play the part of ecstatically happy fiancée to the Charles Leclerc. But all you can do is look at him while your phone stops buzzing. You don't know why you can pretend for everyone else, but not for Oscar.

He sighs, obviously reading the answer on your face. Giving his head a little shake, he folds his arms over his chest.

"I didn't—" You stop, not wanting to say the words out loud. You can't.

He tips his head to one side. "Didn't what."

Didn't mean to hurt Lando. Didn't mean to fall in love with him. Didn't mean to ruin your life. Didn't mean to make such a mess of everything. You blink, the past few months rushing through your mind.

"He deserves the truth, y/n." He says the words softly, and you don't get to ask which he before he turns and walks away.

Ferrari is ecstatic. Good press is good press, and apparently Charles getting engaged is great press. They want photos, a quick interview for their social media. They want you front and center in the garage, and the PR person encourages you to kiss Charles before he gets into his car.

You watch from inside the garage, feeling as though you're more on display than usual, a camera always cutting to you. Charles wins and you're forced to finally see Lando, who gets p2, because it would be weird if you didn't go out to congratulate your fiancé. During the chaos he turns to you and you're frozen, staring into his eyes.

He's smiling but there's heartbreak in his eyes. And you want to do whatever it takes to send it as far from as possible.

Someone bumps into him and he catches himself before he stumbles into you, his lips mouthing your name. Despite the noise around you, you can hear his pained sigh and then he's gone, eyes on you until he's swallowed up by the cameras.

The Monaco anthem. Charles beaming as he looks down at you from the podium. Champagne. He's so happy you can't help but smile.

Whenever your eyes stray to Lando next to him your smile dies.

The alcohol isn't doing its job. Lando downs another drink, heart beating to the same rapid beat of the song playing, and he tries to part the crowd with his mind, thoughts jumbled but he knows what he wants to see.

You.

The dancing, drinking bodies part and his desperate eyes finally land on you. Champagne has been flowing steadily since you and Charles walked in. The it couple.

He wish he could vomit, but all he can muster is a grimace, perfectly timed with a kiss between the happy couple. Taking a drink, he leans against the wall, head and heart pounding as he wills the alcohol to do what it's supposed to and numb everything. Instead it's only enhanced every bit of the pain and torture that's been in him since the first unanswered text.

"Mate."

It's Osc. He reaches out, grabbing his teammate's shoulder. "Osc!" He's happy to see him. Osc knows. Osc understands. Good old Oscar. "Sorry for calling you a sponge cat."

"Fuck, how much have you had?" Oscar asks.

"Don't worry 'bout me." He lifts his glass to take a sip, whining when it never reaches his mouth. Watching it, it occurs to him that Oscar took it from him. "Hey…"

"C'mon."

"Can we get me another drink? Some muppet stole mine," he says, leaning against his friend as he's led away.

"Sure, mate," Oscar yells above the music.

"Yay." Slinging an arm around him, Lando barely notices where they're going. He is pretty sure the bar is in the other direction… But Oscar knows best. "You're my best mate, mate, ya know that?"

Oscar patts his back. "Yeah."

"Thanks." Yay, a best mate. "Didn't mean it when I said you was a pain in my fuckin' ass, mate. Said it with love."

Oscar sighs so loudly Lando hears it over the music. "I know."

He blinks and they're outside. The air feels weird in his lungs and he coughs, swaying a little as he tries to catch himself on the back of the building. "Jesus."

"Do you wanna go?" Oscar asks.

He doesn't know. "But she's here." He's still not numb and he realizes there's not enough drinks in the world to deaden the pain. "She's here, Osc."

"I know." There's sympathy in his voice.

"Why'd she do it?" His voice cracks and he tries to breathe, tries to stop the tears but they're already burning his eyes. He pushes the heels of his palms against his face. "She loves me."

"Lando…"

"We n-never said it but we like, couldn't yeah? But I know she does. She told me." It doesn't sound right but he can't care right now, too busy trying to keep the tears from falling. "I love us."

"Us?"

"It's how we say it. Because we can't say it."

Need it. This. Us. Love it. This. Us.

"I love her, Osc." The last word breaks on a sob and he presses his hands tightly to his eyes but there's no stopping the tears. "Wasn't supposed to. Know that. But how can I not love her? Even before we had sex I loved her."

"Oh, mate." It's sad and understanding and there's a gentle hand on his shoulder.

And it all comes pouring out. A bit mixed up but he knows Oscar's smart enough to put it in the right order. How he had a little crush but liked being your friend. The feelings grew but he never dreamed – okay, sometimes he'd dreamed, he wasn't a fucking saint – you felt the same. How he truly never expected for those dreams to become reality or how lifechanging it would be. And while he tells it he lets the tears fall because trying to stop them is pointless.

"She's everything," he gasps, bracing his hands on his knees to keep from spinning with the world around him.

"I know, I know," Oscar says gently.

"I gotta go. Can… Can't watch them be so happy." And he laughs through the tears. "I want her happy but I can't see it."

"C'mon, we'll go."

He blinks, sways, and he's in his hotel room. A bottle of water appears in his hands and he stares at it then slowly lifts his head. "Osc."

"It's alright, drink it." His voice is warbles and Lando shakes his head to make sense of what's happening.

"She's gonna marry him," he whispers.

"Not right now, yeah? Drink your water."

"Why's it hurt so much," he mumbles after sipping the water. "Love's s'posed to be the best thing."

"It can be," Oscar says. "But sometimes it hurts."

"It's why I stayed away from it for so long. Didn't wanna get hurt." He leans his head back, feels the softness of the pillow. "But…"

"But you fell."

"Yeah," he whispers. "Dived right in and was over my head 'fore I knew it was happening. And… This time it hurts. A lot."

Oscar hums and Lando reaches out, slapping his arm.

"Thanks Osc."

"Anytime, Lando."

He's silent, and just when Oscar is moving to turn off the lights he speaks again. "You think they'll get married in Monaco?"

"I honestly have no idea."

"She wants a beach wedding. There's a spot near her parents'… Like a look over place?" Still clutching the empty water bottle, he gestures with his hand. "Showed me pictures once. Pretty place."

"Yeah?" Oscar turns off the lights and returns to the chair by the bed.

"Sunset. She wants it at sunset. With her niece as flower girl. Doesn't want anything big or fancy. Just people she loves who love her."

"Sounds nice."

"And a honeymoon in Ireland. It's where her nan's from, and she loves it. County Waterford. That's why she loves that crystal thing I got her for her birthday."

"What'd you get her?"

"A vase. Cuz she loves the crystal. And flowers."

Your coworkers are over the moon. A wedding! So exciting! Ah, young love! Have you picked out a date? Color scheme? Where will it be?

No, but you're thinking next spring. Blush pink and sage green. You're looking at different places.

Yes, you're so excited. Still hasn't set in that you're engaged. Oh of course you've never been happier. You're so in love.

You hate yourself for having become an expert in lying. The venue has already been reserved. Charles flew your mom out, and your dress is being made . It's easy to just let everyone else do the planning for you, because it's not your dream wedding.

Not that you've spoken to him. You haven't seen him since the club the night after your engagement. And then, only for a split second. You've opted to stay at home, lying to Charles and saying you were doing wedding planning.

No one needs to know that you spend race weekends in front of your laptop, hugging your knees and watching every scrap of footage you can of Lando. Just to check on him. Because you still can't bring yourself to return his calls and texts. They don't come as often now, and he no longer leaves you voicemails, but you haven't been able to tap his name on your phone.

And you're too much of a fucking coward to show up at a race and see him in person.

He looks okay. A little tired, and maybe you're the only one that notices his smile doesn't reach his eyes. Maybe not. Maybe others can tell that he's a little more subdued in post-race interviews. Or maybe not.

"And are you looking forward to the break?" the interviewer asks.

He smiles. "Yeah… Hoping to spend some time alone. Get out of my head for a bit, yeah?"

"Anywhere special?"

"Nah, just away from everything. A quiet beach or something." He shrugs in that slightly self-conscious way that always makes you want to hold him.

He walks off and you drain the last of your wine, closing the laptop and dragging a hand over your face. You have to finish packing for the trip back home. Snatching out your earbuds, you reach for your phone. Open your messages.

Stare at Lando's name and open the thread. It'll be tomorrow before Charles gets home, you can spend the night crying over texts.

-Were you gonna tell me? -he's cheated on you since day one why would you marry him -does he make you happy? -if he makes you happy I'll be happy for you -tell me he makes you happy -please y/n -talk to me

Those were from six weeks ago. For four weeks it was more of the same. Until…

-I miss you -miss your smile. and your laugh. and that cute little snort that you hate but I think it's beautiful. -miss your hugs. they always make me feel like I'm safe -I just miss you -I miss you dancing in my living room and pretending not to notice when I steal cupcakes. -I even miss your fucking sushi.

Your eyes well with tears. You miss him, too. You miss his hyena laugh and how he'd forget the simplest of words when explaining something. You miss his hugs, how you always felt like nothing could affect you as long as you were in his arms. You miss the dancing, spinning and bouncing until you were breathless and dizzy. You even miss his fucking chicken nuggets.

-Will you come to Spa? -Just wanna see you again. -Guess you're not coming. -Hope you're doing ok. He told Osc you're going back home for break. I know you're excited. Cali girl. -I wish I knew I could see you over break. -Call me when you can -there's so much I never got to say -that I cant put in a text -I miss us

You stare at that last text, sent five minutes before the start of the race, and you let out a sob. And before you can stop yourself you're composing a text. You delete the words and start over several times, finally closing your messages with a frustrated groan. Your finger hovers over the call button, and you punch it, taking a deep breath before you tap Lando's name on the favorites list, where it's been since he called you his bestie.

It rings once. And you realize he's probably busy, probably in another interview or—

"Hello?" He sounds panicked. Out of breath. Like he can't believe it's you.

"Lando," you whisper.

"God – fuck, hang on—" There's rustling and you can hear others speaking in the background. "Yeah, I know, it's an emergency," he says in a rush to someone and you muffle a sob, because now you're crying you can't stop. You hear him saying something about having to take this, he's sorry. "You still there?"

"Y-yeah."

"I'm – hang on, I gotta get somewhere quiet."

You can imagine him sprinting away from the crowd, avoiding eye contact so no one tries to talk to him. Putting it on speaker, you set the phone down and hug your knees to your chest while you listen to the rustling and heavy breaths. Next to you Leo whines softly, leaning against you and you reach to absently pet him.

"Y/n."

"I'm here," you sniffle.

"Are you—"

"I'm sorry."

He's panting, and you hear his shaky breath. "Are you ok?"

No. "Y-yeah."

"Why?" he whispers. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was all so sudden, Lando." A flimsy excuse. You could have easily texted him that night.

"I had to find out from fucking Instagram. Half the world knew before I did." There's a thud, and you wonder if he's punched the wall or slammed his head against it.

"I'm sorry," you say again because it's all you can say. "I was in shock, I guess. He posted the picture before I even called my mom."

"Are you happy?" he asks after a moment, just as you're beginning to think he's not going to say anything else.

You don't answer right away. "I—"

"I love you. Never thought I could love like I love you. Thought I loved but it was just…bullshit before you. It was fucked up and you were never mine, but I needed you. I've never not needed you. I still can't fold a fucking shirt proper. Y-you were everything and I know I was stupid to think we could make it, but I never wanted anything more than us." He's rambling, breathless, and you can hear the pain and desperation in his voice.

You press your face to your knees, shoulders shaking. "Lan—"

"But it's not gonna happen is it?" he asks and his voice breaks, shattering your heart. "You're gonna marry him. And I'm… I'm gonna have to smile and be happy for you even though I'm nothing."

"You're my friend," you sob.

"Friend." It sounds like the vilest curse word. "Friend? Tell me one friend who knows how your pussy tastes."

"Lando, please." You know you deserve it, but it hurts.

"I let you into my soul," he murmurs. "I'm supposed to just be your friend again?"

You can't answer him, because you know you can't ask that of him.

"I can't, y/n." There's a tremor in his voice and the shattered pieces of your heart crack. "I can't go back. I… I can't pretend we never happened and go back to just game talk and dancing and baking. I… I only want you to be happy, but I can't do that."

"I know," you whimper.

"You were everything," he whispers. "You still are."

"I loved us," you say softly.

"I needed us. But us…was always doomed wasn't it?"

"I suppose so." Sniffling, you lift your head, shakily tapping to ignore Charles's incoming call.

"Are you happy?"

Despite everything, you can't lie to him. You can lie to Charles. Your mom. Even your grandmother, whose said time and time again she doesn't like Charles. But you'll never be able to lie to Lando. "No."

There's silence, then he lets out a pained sound. "Don't marry him, y/n."

Charles doesn't notice your mood when he gets home. He's riding high off another win, talking excitedly about planned improvements for next year and how he's actually got the chance to be champion this year. He's so goddamned happy you can't help but smile a little, knowing all too well how downtrodden he's been over his career in the past. There's relaxation to be had now, though, and his first day of break is spent on his yacht, sunning and swimming and he's still so happy.

The next day you fly home, and despite the jet lag you're bouncing because it's so good to be back home. Charles has been here twice now but still you point out landmarks from your childhood and you can tell he's faking his enthusiasm. He loves America, he's always said because it created you, but you know he doesn't like it. He can take it in small doses. You push away the worry that by the end of your trip he'll be tense and irritable.

There are days at the beach, three nights up in the mountains, the weekend in Vegas. With each day that passes you tell yourself you can do this. You still hurt. You still miss Lando, who hasn't texted or called since the night of Spa. But it gets a little easier, and as you sit in your hotel room watching the sunrise over the Strip you realize you almost feel happy.

Charles's phone dings and you step away from the window to switch it to silent. He groans in his sleep and you smile, watching him push his face deeper into the pillow. Glancing at the phone screen, you shrug.

You don't recognize the name. You can't remember ever meeting a Cassidy or Charles mentioning her. Pushing away the doubt, you switch the phone to silent, about to set it on the nightstand when it buzzes with another message from her.

It might be someone from Ferrari. You chew on your lip, finally unlocking the phone and opening the message thread.

-miss u 💞

You barely see the text, your eyes instead on the nude photo that was sent just before. You don't know her. Scrolling up, you exhale harshly as your eyes scan the back-and-forth messages, ranging from a simple miss u to it's not fair chérie, I wish we could run away together. Interspersed are photos of her and him, and you grip the phone tighter, remembering his insistence that neither of you send nudes.

Yet he's apparently had no problem sending Cassidy pictures of his dick. Or receiving pictures of her. There are even videos and you can't stop yourself from dropping onto the couch, scrolling further up, needing to know how long it had been going on.

-marrying her won't change a thing, chérie

By the time he wakes you've gotten to the start of their messages. All the way back in November. It had been mostly innocent at first, but you'd been revolted to see photos of him in your mom's house, in your old bedroom, at Christmas, when he hadn't so much as wanted to kiss you with tongue because it was rude.

"Bonjour, chérie," he greets you as he stretches.

You say nothing, twisting the heavy, gaudy ring around your finger. His phone lies in your lap and you know he's looking for it when he looks to the nightstand.

"We go to the Big Bear today, yes?"

You stay silent, swallowing hard. You know you have no right to be angry – after all, hadn't you done the same with Lando? But you are. Because you and Lando had evolved from friends to lovers, and it hadn't lasted eight months. And you'd cut everything off with him the moment the ring had been placed on your finger.

"Chérie?" He looks confused. "What is wrong?"

"Oh, you were talking to me?" you ask.

He blinks, rubbing his face. "Yes? Who else would I be talking to? We're alone."

"Right." You draw in a deep breath and pick up his phone, tossing it towards him. "I thought maybe you were talking to Cassidy."

Despite his quick reflexes he fumbles, the phone landing on the floor with a thud. You can see the blood drain from his face. "Chérie—"

"Don't call me that," you gasp. "Not when you called her that. Last night, remember?"

"She doesn't mean anything to me," he says, snatching his phone off the floor. "It is just a fling."

"A fling doesn't last eight months, Charles." You stand up, tucking your robe tightly around yourself. "A fling isn't a chérie."

"Ché – y/n—"

"You sent her a video of you masturbating from my grandma's bathroom!" you screech, jerking away when he reaches for you. "What next? Gonna invite her to the wedding? I'm sure the priest won't mind you bending her – what was it? – perfect ass over and fucking her until she can't remember her own name. God, you're disgusting."

"I have a problem," he says, and you can hear the edge in his voice. It's just like the last time, when he—

"How many girls are you fucking?" you gasp.

"I'm not…" He hangs his head, muttering under his breath. "They don't mean anything."

"That doesn't make it better," you groan. Snatching clothes from the open suitcase on the floor, you hurriedly put them on. "You said last time that it was a mistake. That it would never happen again."

Charles raises his head. "I lied."

You blink at him. "Oh my god."

"No, chérie, don't leave."

"I believed you. I fell for ever fucking lie." You shake your head in disbelief, grabbing up your phone and purse.

"Please, please, let me explain." He takes a step towards you, stopping when you shoot him a glare.

"No." You squeeze your eyes shut.

Don't marry him, y/n.

"I can't believe I trusted you. I gave up everything for you. Because I thought you were true. I thought that the last time was the only time. I thought… I thought you loved me," you whisper, twisting the ring again.

"I do. More than anything."

"But you can't. You can't love me more than anything and tell Cassidy that marrying me won't change anything. You can't stand here and say you love me while some woman I don't know has pictures of your dick."

"Please, I can… I can change—"

You let out a harsh laugh. "Do you know what I gave up for you? I left a job I loved to work in fucking Monaco because you needed me with you. I had to let friendships I've had since high school fade because I'm so far away I can't keep in touch all the time. I—" You choke on a sob.

I've never not needed you.

"I gave up someone that truly loved me, that made me happier than I deserved. Because I wanted us to make it," you whisper. You see the confusion on his face.

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter. H-he won't have anything to do with me now, because I chose you." Tears blur your vision and you wrench the ring from your finger. You want to throw it in his face, tell him it was Lando, let out your anger by telling him what you'd done. But you can't do that to Lando. With care you set the ring on the dresser.

"Chérie… Please, not like this," he says.

It hits you that he's probably not upset over you leaving. He's upset because he always does the leaving. "I'll go to the apartment and get my stuff while you're at Zandvoort," you say. "I'll leave my keys."

"Where will you go?"

"Don't pretend to care now."

"I wanted us to make it too," he says softly. And you almost believe him.

"Apparently not enough," you murmur.

His phone vibrates again and he huffs. "Yeah hang on, getting texts," he says, pushing his headset back and reaching for the phone.

Even though he deleted the contact he recognizes the number. Opening the message, he glances at the screen, watching Max cycle through the available cars. Swallowing his worry, he looks at the phone.

-I'm leaving Monaco. -I ended the engagement and broke up with him. -I just wanted to let you know. I don't expect anything. -I still miss us. -Good luck, Lando. Take care.

He reads them over again, ignoring Max and the game. His chest aches and he lets out his breath in a rush. About to reply, he pauses, seeing a text from Oscar.

­-Still coming to Melbourne for a few days?

He smiles, quickly tapping out a reply.

-Flight leaves tonight 2am my time. Can't wait.

Going back, he stares at the number. Then, pushing down the familiar ache, he swipes to delete it, watching it disappear. There's a sense of finality to it and he tosses his phone down and rubs his hands over his face. He pulls his headset back into place.

"You good?" Max asks.

"Yeah, just junk." He stretches his arms above his head then drums his hands on the desk. "Right, let's fucking do this."

[dixonsgirl93]

The L Word

(Fun fact: The part in bold is a real life scenario that happened to me. 🙃 but this one has a happy ending, thankfully 😂)

You and Daryl had been dating for almost 6 months and a scary, new feeling had started growing inside you.

With each new day and each embrace with Daryl, this feeling grew. It was now at a point where you could think of nothing else and it was hindering your focus.

“You gotta just tell him.” Carol sighs, watching you with your head in your hands, stressing.

“I can’t.” You whimper.

“You can.” She gently pushes.

Images from the past flashed violently into your mind. That pain. You couldn’t do that again. Not now. Not with Daryl.

“You don’t get it. I said ‘I love you’ for the first time before and it went awful.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I couldn’t actually say it outright. I said, ‘what would you say if I told you I loved you?’ Like, what a wimp, right? Anyway, his response?” You sigh heavily. “‘There’d be a h/n-sized hole in that door.’ And yes, I did stay with him after that, like an idiot.”

You could hear the amusement in Carol’s voice. “You know Daryl’s not gonna say anything like that. He’s not like that. Worst case scenario he says nothing at all.”

You lift your head. “That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

Carol places a hand on your shoulder. “Do it, or don’t. Life is even shorter now than it was. Live a little.” She turns away to carry on with whatever she was doing but her words linger, sticking to the inside of your mind. She was right, of course.

~~

Later that evening, when you and Daryl were cuddling on your sofa, talking about your respective days, Carol’s words come back to you, as do those 3 scary little words.

“Uh, Daryl.” You start, mouth going impossibly dry. Your heart pounds and you almost back out before having said anything.

“Hm?” He grunts, looking down at you under his arm.

You sigh heavily, a weight settling on your chest.

“There’s something I wanted to…uh…talk about.” Lame start, you think, still considering backing out.

“What’s that?” You can almost hear his frown but not daring to look just yet.

Here, you freeze, the words sticking to your tongue, even with Carol’s advice pushing at them. Fear, excitement, trepidation, god, it was all too much.

“I-“

“I love you too.”

You turn to look at him, the world blurring around you both.

“Wh-“

He doesn’t let you stutter out your confusion, planting a kiss on your lips, his hand on your cheek. When he pulls back he smirks at you.

“I mean it. M’not just saying it to save you from having a…a meltdown tryna speak. I’ve been feeling it too.” He leans forward again, kissing the top of your head.

“God, and you couldn’t have put me out of my misery sooner?” You gently whack him on his chest.

“Ow.” He smiles, flinches and grapples you into a hug, pulling you onto him.

“And miss out watching you get all flustered? You’re adorable.” He holds you tight and kisses all over your face.

“Asshole… I love you.” You smirk and share a kiss together, growing in intensity and heat…

“That’s my girl.”

[miley1442111]

hi ! can I request Derek Morgan x Pregnant! Reader?

Where reader is a couple days past her due date and is literally miserable and Derek’s lowkey frustrated because he’s tried every thing he can to help and he hates seeing his girl upset,

so they start looking up ways to help induce labor, and they try a few and none of them work, so reader gives up and starts to cry and Derek is there to reassure her that everything is gonna be okay,

& that he read somewhere that s*x induces labor and it’s turns into light fluffy smut?

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

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

a/n: i love this idea, probably didn't do it justice, also my most sincere apologies for letting this rot in my inbox for so long :)

summary: derek has to do something when you're 3 days past your due date

pairings: derek morgan x fem! wife! pregnant! reader

warnings: pregnancy issues, smut (lowkey praise kink but wtv), going into labour

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

It would be an understatement to say that being pregnant sucked. 

You were tired, you were achy, you couldn’t do anything, you couldn’t sleep, and you were literally 3 days past your due date, with no end in sight. 

Fuck this stupid baby, and fuck your stupid husband for getting you pregnant in the first place. 

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

 You sat in your bed, miserable and in pain as Derek held you in his arms. He was annoyed. He could see how much pain you were in, and knew how much pain you’d be in soon when you had to give birth. He just… he wanted it to stop. So he looked up methods of inducing labour. 

“Apparently spicy food helps with inducing labour,” he muttered as he mindlessly rubbed his hand over your stomach. 

“I’ll try anything at this point,” you said in a small voice and Derek’s heart shattered. 

“I’ll order something,” he nodded and you offered a meek ‘thank you’. He ordered the spiciest things on your local Mexican place’s menu, and waited eagerly for its arrival. When it did come, he plated it and watched as you ate it.

Nothing. Not even a contraction. 

“Fuck’s sake,” you groaned, washing your hands after eating. “Now I just feel fucking sick.”

“I’m sorry baby,” he sighed, pulling you in to give you a soft but reassuring kiss. “The next thing on the list is physical exercise.”

That was not met with much enthusiasm, but you obliged anyway. You got on the treadmill that lives in your home-gym, and ran for 30 minutes. 

Still nothing. 

Derek watched as your frustrated face turned into the one you make before you cry, and his heart shattered a second time. “Come here baby,” he sighed and pulled you into his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead as you cried. He whispered words of reassurance and love,but you couldn’t stop crying. You were in so much pain, you were so tired, and you just wanted this baby out. You wanted to see your little girl and hold her. 

“What’s next on the list?” You asked between sobs. 

“Sex.”

You looked up at him, drying your eyes. “Sex?”

“Sex,” he nodded. “But if you’re not up to it we can-”

“Derek Morgan, this baby is coming out of me today or so help me god, I will hurt someone,” you swore. Derek nodded quickly and took your hand, leading you to your bedroom. 

“What’s safe for the baby?” You asked him timidly as he undressed you. 

“Spooning, if that’s comfortable,” he offered. He’d done so much research about how to help you, it almost made you sob all over again. Stupid pregnancy hormones. 

“That sounds nice,” you swallowed back the lump in your throat as Derek smiled at you, then pressed soft kisses to your bare collarbone.

“So pretty for me,” he cooed. “My beautiful girl.”

You both laid down on the bed as he kissed you, whispering words of encouragement. God he was so attractive like this, taking care of you, loving you. You were getting ridiculously wet.

“I’m going to be real gentle, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded as his hands started kneading the plump of your ass. 

“You feeling alright?”

“Good, just please- do something,” you begged and he chuckled. 

“Already beggin’ for me? God you’re perfect,” he kissed your cheek as he slowly slipped inside you. You let out a series of moans as his long cock filled you up, while his hands groped your body. “That’s it, good girl. Take all of me.”

He slowly started moving as you squirmed and moaned under his thrusts. 

“Come on, you’re so good for me baby. Doin’ so good babygirl,” he groaned. “So pretty around my cock.”

You felt yourself clench at his words. Then it happened. Your water broke. 

“Oh my god!” You shouted, immediately getting off of the bed and running to get your clothes on. Derek smiled as he watched you. 

“It worked?”

“It worked!” You chuckled, then the contractions came in, ruining the moment. You hunched over and leaned on the bed and Derek started getting dressed. 

“Come on mama, we gotta get you to the hospital,” he smiled as he helped you out. 

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

Twelve hours later, you two welcomed your first little girl, Emily Morgan. 

Derek already wanted another one.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

cm taglist

@khxna

[venerawrites]

Headcanon When Itachi is sick and his s/o is taking care of him

author's note: stupid me missed the part where it said it was headcanons request, so I started writing it as a drabble 😭 Anyway, I fixed it, so I really hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for requesting! <3

Itachi is probably one of the most stubborn men in the Naruto universe. In his mind, he is made to care for and protect those close to him, even if at the expense of his own well-being.

He hates making people around him worry, and especially his s/o. It is bad enough that they are constantly stressed by him being part of Akatsuki and Sasuke seeking his revenge, they do not need additional reasons to worry.

With that being said, Itachi's first instinct once he gets sick is to simply stay away. He never gives a time by when he must be back from a mission, so this easily gives him 2-3 days to rest and get back on his feet before he visits his lover.

As a ninja who travelled all over the world and survived some of the harshest weather conditions, the Uchiha rarely got sick. It happened once every few years, but when it did - it was BAD.

Maybe it was the constant cold rain in Amegakure or the poison arrow with which one of the village's guards managed to hit him (or maybe even both), but just a day after he and Kisame left, he found himself so weak and tired, his teammate had to carry him all the back.

Not wanting to bring him back to the base, the first place Kisame thought of was Itachi's s/o's house.

I've said before that I always imagined Itachi with someone who lives in a remote cottage and is either a herb gatherer or somehow knowledgeable when it comes to natural medicine.

One glance at the black-haired shinobi was enough for them to understand he must have caught the flu or some type of virus. Thankfully, they knew exactly what he needed and wouldn't waste even a minute, before grabbing their coat and running to the nearby village to buy some medical ingredients that were missing in their kitchen.

His s/o would totally pamper him like a baby, despite Itachi's protests and claims that "he is fine".

They would make all his medicine by scratch every single day till he gets better. Most of the time it took the form of either a paste or a tea, which they served with his meal.

If they have any medical ninjutsu knowledge, they will use it to ease his symptoms, but I doubt they will be that good to heal him completely.

Itachi would constantly huff about it, but he secretly loved the cozy space his partner managed to create using all the available pillows/blankets they found in their house.

As I said above, this man is very stubborn, so inevitably there will be some small arguments during that time. Mainly they were started by Itachi, who claimed he was feeling fine now (despite his pale face and loud cough), and finished by his s/o, who would always end up physically restraining him on the bed by laying next to him and hugging him.

In order to make sure he doesn't get up and move too much, his s/o would spend the majority of their day by his side. Reading books to him, telling him stories, playing board games, sometimes even gossiping... They will do anything to engage his mind and keep him distracted from the idea of trying to do stuff on his own.

Something he won't fight, however, is his s/o's massages. They would work on his aching muscles every single night, relieving the pain and the stress his body was feeling. Not only he love the feeling of his partner's hands on him, but it also greatly helps him relax and fall asleep.

With all of this treatment, it won't take long for Itachi to be back on his feet and spoil his s/o as reward for the good care they provided to him.

cc artwork: Oliver Beck

[justanotherflemethstan]

I am back on my "Varric will be fridged in DAV" agenda/theorising/working through my own grief and fears. so hear me out

• in DAO: in 3 out of 6 origins, someone extremely close to the PC dies

• in DA2: one of your siblings dies within the first 10 mins of prologue

• in DAI: like, a ton of people die in the Conclave explosion in the first few seconds of the game (literally in the game menu). granted the PC doesn't know them all but there's still death significant for the PC, in scale if nothing else

So... one has to argue that using a significant death as a plot device early on to set the tone for the story is something that we see across all 3 previous games. so I would be very surprised if no one dies in the prologue of DAV. and who is most likely to be sacrificed to maximise the pain for the in-game characters, as well as the players? unfortunately for me & all the fellow Varric lovers out there, it's none other than Master Tethras.

as usual, I hope against all hope that I'm wrong, but also fear more and more each day that I am not

[simplydannie]

“I’m A Twin” Velvet Art

Me and @fairytypingg are trying to come up with some ideas for various species of Under Rageons. Some here were inspired by them and a TikTok I once saw!

Velvet now wears her brother’s beanie… She is pained, she is numb… She’s just trying to escape the hurt that haunts her. One day, she finally hears those dreaded words… “Where’s Veneer?”

3 months ago…

All you could hear was the sound of their feet against the concrete down the alley. Velvet strung Veneer by the wrist, pulling him violently behind her. She lead them behind a dumpster big enough for them to hide. Velvet pulled him close.

“Quiet!” She whispered to him. Veneer covered his mouth attempting to hide his staggering, broken breathing… he was scared. Velvet peeked around the dumpster; she saw shadows and quick movement far off the alley.

“Where the hell did they go!!!”

“I saw them come this way!!!”

“Cursed Rageons! Find them now!”

She heard their footsteps and voices leave, “We’re okay… for now.”

“What do we do? Where do we go?” Veneer asked her.

“I… I don’t know… Why in the hell did they send us back here in the first place?” Velvet looked at the glooming under-city of Under Rageous. Way above she could see the dazzling lights of Mount Rageous. “We’re not supposed to be back down here.”

“…. I broke their contract. When I told everyone what we were doing… I’m sorry Vels. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was just scared that….”

“… that you were loosing me. Well thanks for the protection Ven! Look where we are at now! You idiot!” She yelled. Velvet took a look at both of them…they were back into their under-city clothing. Veneer had his stupid purple beanie again… god she hated that thing. “You look ridiculous.”

He turned away frowning. Veneer had never intended for this to happen, for them to be hunted down, for them to be living in fear again, “I’m sorry Vels.”

“Shut it! We need to get out of Rageous for good. It’s the only way we’ll be safe. Follow me.” She led them through the alleys away from the any eyes. For one they stood out, their kind of Rageon was known for pale skin, the bright green hair didn’t help much either. Velvet knew of a back way out of the city, an opening they could take…and leave for good. Only thing is, where would they go?

As if reading her mind Veneer responded, “Can we make our way to the Trolls?”

She rolled her eyes, “Why are you still thinking about those damn Trolls?”

“They’ll take us in. I know Floyd would.” Veneer said.

“No. We’re not going to those Trolls. We’re going to find another way.”

“But Vels…”

“I SAID NO!” Velvet turned around and stabbed a finger into her brother’s chest, “I am not listening to you any longer Veneer! Look where that got us! From now on you do as I say…GOT THAT!”

Veneer was hesitating to respond…

“I said go that!”

“O-okay.”

“….I hate you….” She told him before continuing…They walked a few minutes in silence before she started recognizing the layout; they were close, the opening to the outside world was not far off…

“There you guys are!” A happy voice boomed from behind them. The twins turned to see a Rageon with glowing blue eyes and mouth staring at them, he had spirals where his pupils should be…he was a Neon. “Thought you could run away huh?”

“Let’s go Ven!” Velvet grabbed his wrist and started running again. Their feet barely touching the ground on how fast they were running. “We’re almost there!”…But she skid to a halt as two more Rageons appeared blocking her way: Both had pointed like ears with slanted pupils, when they grinned they bared sharp pointed teeth… Those in Mount Rageous called every one down here “defects”, the product of years of mutation from the horrible, harsh environments.

“Go back, go back!” She turned around to find more Under Rageons surrounding them. “….shit.”

“Corned like little mice. We’d get you one way or another.” The Neon Rageon approached. He snapped his fingers. The other Rageons came in and grabbed each twin firmly by the arms, a grip so tight that they could feel their arms grow numb.

“What the hell! Let us go! What did we do to you? We don’t even know you!” Velvet cried out.

“True. True. You don’t. But we know you. The failed superstars Rageous. You’re name definitely went down in history. I mean you could’ve gone far if it wasn’t for this yapper here.” He pointed towards Veneer, “You guys have done nothing to us, by all means you’re innocent.”

“Then let us go please.” Veneer begged.

The Rageon nodded his head, “No can do.” He pulled out a knife, playing with it in front of the twins…he was taunting them. “You know how Under Rageous feels about you Succubi Rageons….cursed, the sight of your kind is just bad all around. And then who get’s pulled to be up at the top from the hundreds of thousands of Rageons in the under-city? A pair of bratty teenaged Succubi Rageons with no damn talent, other than stealing abilities of others and sucking their damn life! Funny how your kind makes a living like that.”

“Don’t even go there! Our kind is the one that gives you guys the Trolls you so happily buy in the Black Market!” Velvet declared.

The Rageon snickered, “Ah yes there’s my other reason. Turns out that Trolls have a negative effect on everyone. A poison if you will. Pretty nice way to try to wipe out the rest of us when your kind take their claim in the under-city.”

“That’s a lie!” Veneer cried out.

“….One by one, we have been taking Succubi Rageons out….cleansing the city of them for good.”

“You can’t do that! There’s, there’s families! Kids!” Veneer cried out.

“And those kids will grow to be soul sucking creatures just like the family that raised them… just like you two.” He told them.

“Some don’t!” Veneer continued.

“Ven, shut it!” Velvet warned.

“Some kids were just like me and my sister. We didn’t have parents to help us control what we have! Our parents were good people too. They didn’t want us to do what we did. We were just stupid. We believed in the wrong person…”

“Veneer that’s enough…”

But he continued, “It’s not us anyways! Those up in Mount Rageous is what caused our separation in the first place!”

“Oh my gosh!! Blah, blah, blah! Don’t you ever just shut up! I don’t care what you have to say kid! I just really dislike your kind in the first place…. They took everything from me!” The Rageon screamed.

“… I’m sorry. But that wasn’t us…”

“I had enough of you! Bring me the yapper!” The Rageon holding Veneer dragged him to their leader. He pulled out the knife again and gently skidded it across Veneer’s porcelain skin.

“No….No…NO! LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Velvet cried in desperation. Veneer’s eyes grew wide in horror, tears beginning to fall from his face, his body began to tremble.

“Oh! Listen to that boys! She begs.” He laughed as he continued to glide the knife across Veneer’s face and down his neck.

“Leave him alone! Out of all of us he’s the most innocent!” Velvet continued to cry.

The Neon Rageon licked his lips, “No Succubi Rageon is innocent…You’re all guilty…You’re all cursed…”

Veneer struggled against the Rageons….he began to grow desperate, he began to grow more afraid. Veneer continued to beg for his release, for the release of his sister…His eyes began to glow a hue of pink. The Rageon holding him down began to panic, “Boss…What’s happening?”

“The poison effect first hand.”

But something else began to happen…Veneer pulled and struggled, trying to break free, “Please let me go he begged.” As his eyes glowed, something began to happen to those around him…their bodies illuminated light as Veneer began aborbing their essence…their life force. They could feel themselves growing weaker, their bodies growing numb.

“Stop it….STOP IT!” The Neon Rageon yelled.

“He can’t control it! Just let him go please!” Velvet yelled struggling against her captor. She tried, she tried her hardest, but she couldn’t break free. Velvet hoped the high of the poison would come to her…but it didn’t. What’s going on, she thought to herself. The Rageons around Veneer grew weaker and paler.

“Tell him to stop!” The Rageon holding him cried. The Neon Rageon put a hand around Veneer’s throat, grasping it hard and firm.

“No please! No please, leave him alone!” Velvet cried as her tears began to fall. Holding Veneer’s throat, the Rageon brought out his knife again…

“Cursed brat”…

…..Veneer began to cry out in pain…

“NO OH GOD! NO STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! VENNIE!! PLEASE LEAVE HIM ALONE HE CAN’T CONTROL IT! HE CANT CONTROL IT! IT’S NOT HIS FAULT PLEASE!!! OH GOD STOP IT, STOP IT! VENNIE!!!!!!”

Present day…

Velvet was on a bus that lead away from the city she resumed in for the past couple of weeks…

It had taken three months, but she had finally found where Floyd would be at, where the Trolls lived. She carried with her a small duffle bag with only a few belongings she had acquired on her small journey. Velvet still had on her Under Rageous attire, one of only two outfits she’d switched back and forth too. Her hair now fell in loose curls around her…on her head, her brother’s purple beanie…

Velvet could feel the stares of those riding in the bus with her…Rageons were not common outside from Rageous, the sight of one was extremely rare, and quite alarming. She didn’t care to make any eye contact or conversation. All that mattered was for her to reach her destination and finally rest…perhaps be rid of the pain she had been carrying for the past three months. Velvet leaned her head against the window and stared at the scenery outside. She had no more tears to cry…she was drained…she was numb. Velvet had grown paler and duller…as if the life was completely sucked out from her….and it was, it really was.

Night had fallen and the stars shown brightly. Veneer would’ve loved this, she thought to herself. He was always curious about what world lay outside Rageous, about what life was like. Everything in Rageous was artificial, well, mostly everything. He was an idiot, she told herself….Nope, still no tears…

“BergenTown. Next exit.” The words displayed on the over-head. This was her stop, finally, after three months…at least she’d hope those in BergenTown would be able to help her…She really had no other option.

The bus came to a halt at the stop. Collecting what she had, Velvet made her way out of the bus and into the bus stop. The doors screeched behind her as they closed, the tires of the bus whirring against the asphalt is it drove off. There was a road that lead away front the bus stop leaving her no choice but to follow it through. The road lead her through the outskirts of a wooded area… it wasn’t barren like the woods in Under Rageous but rather green and sprouting with life, with creatures she had never scene before or even knew existed….She hated it, she hated every last little bit of everything she saw..…it reminded her of him. Velvet averted her eyes from the scenery, she continued to walk with her eyes glued to the ground.

Eventually, she came upon the gates of BergenTown, home of the King of the Bergens, “Really? This is it? Not much.” She pushed the small button that rang the bell of the gates of the Bergen Kingdom…

“So tonight what she would do? I was thinking like a game night! Oh even better! A dance off game night!” Poppy beamed.

“Oh boy.” Branch exclaimed next to her. The little Trolls had decided to spend the evening with their Bergen friends. Normally it would be all the Trolls, Branches brothers and Viva, but this night, Poppy just wanted it to be a couples evening really.

“How about we just play some board games? I brought out some pretty cool we can play. For this one I was thinking we do boys vs. girls!” Gristle chimed.

“Great idea Grissy!” Bridgette clapped her hands.

Branch pumped up his arms, “Be ready to go down Poppy!”

Before they could begin their game, a guard came into the room they were gathered in, “Sire, forgive me but, we have a visitor who requests an audience with you.”

“A visitor? Is it a Troll?” Gristle asked.

“No sir. It’s not a Troll, it’s not a Bergen either.”

“Oh! Maybe a Vacationer! We’ve been getting more Vacationers since Bruce advised our kingdom.”

“No…No sir not a Vacationer.”

Bridgette looked at Gristle with an arched eyebrow, “Then what?”

The four of them followed the guard to the main entrance…That’s when they stopped and realized who their visitor was.

“Oh no. No, no, no. She has to get out of here!” Branch exclaimed.

“Velvet?” Poppy’s voice sounded.

“Yes, yes. It’s me in the flesh.” The Rageon said sarcastically.

“Are you out of prison? Because we promised the other kingdoms we wouldn’t harbor fugitives.” Gristle stated.

Velvet crossed her arms and scoffed, “I’ve been out of prison for the last couple of months. Thanks a lot.”

“Okay good. Now go somewhere else!” Branch scrunched his face as he looked upon the girl.

“Such a happy little grudge Troll.” She teased.

“Why are you here?” Gristle asked.

Velvet let out a sigh, “I need….I need a place to stay. It took me three months but I finally found you all. I left Rageous. I’m done with that place. I just need a fresh start, something new.”

They fell silent. Should they turn her away? Gristle didn’t want to risk any friendship the Bergens had with the Trolls. Velvet may just mess that up if the Trolls found out she was staying here…but then, she needed help, she needed a place to say…she needed a home…but they couldn’t help feel that something was missing. Seeing her standing there alone felt odd. That’s when the dreadful words were asked, the words she didn’t want to hear, the words that she knew would be asked when the Trolls or anybody that knew her saw her again…the words that stung her heart…

“Where’s Veneer?”

[tragedybunny]

To Make You Feel My Love - Chapter 3 of 3

༺Summary༻

Astarion and Serafina continue to pursue their relationship as the confrontation with Cazador looms, and then during the fallout afterward. A couple of chapters that explore their deepening bond and their struggle to build "something real".

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Warnings༻ Angst, Hurt / Comfort, Fluff / Smut

༺Word Count༻ 2557

༺A/N༻ Thanks to @icybluepenguin - supporter of ear shenanigans and partner in crime (beta)

Read on AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2

“Astarion,” Serafina called, glancing around the group's room at the Elfsong, and sighed. 

With Cazador dead, Astarion was revelling in his second chance at life, or unlife as it were. Sera was happy for his happiness, and for the fact that it included her, but he was more distractible and impulsive as well. It made it hard to keep him in one place, especially when he didn't have any particular task.  

Today Sera and Karlach had gone to see Dammon to trade off what they had looted from Bhaal temple. The thought of the place filled her nostrils with the fetid scent of rotted gore, but the loot traded for coin all the same. Now they were back and her darling vampire was nowhere to be found in the Elfsong. 

Karlach was occupied dumping the coin they’d made and items Dammon hadn't been interested in back into the large chest they had found early in their journey. Karlach hadn't needed the help carrying things; Sera had gone with her because despite her hopes, it felt like her friend's days were dwindling, and she wanted as much time as she could with her. Karlach, the unexpected kindness in the wilderness, soft heart in a devil's visage. Shadowheart's tales of dark cloisters and cold maternal figures had given her and the cleric immediate understanding that grew their bond, sisterhood in the shadows; Wyll was her hope; Lae'zel her strength; Gale her perseverance,  but it was the fierce tiefling that had given her a sense of warmth and even a bit of excitement about their journey. Astarion, well… Astarion had started as a necessary evil, someone who would act with ruthless efficiency if they should need it. Now…

“Fangs is probably up on the roof cat-napping on the sun,” Karlach interrupted her thoughts. She smiled as she stood back up from the trunk. “Right where he was yesterday. I think he’s making a habit of it, spoiling himself a bit,” she teased.

The words caused Sera to recall the sight of Astarion, kneeling on the floor of the Cazador’s dungeon, covered in blood, sobbing away the pain of centuries. “I suppose we can let him spoil himself a little.” She followed her words with a hesitant smile, not wanting Karlach to think she was angry at her. 

A hand came to rest on her shoulder and she looked up into those fiery eyes. “He absolutely deserves it,” she said, with all solemnity. Astarion would protest it, but Karlach was one of his first, fast friends among the group, and she’d been fighting for him almost as hard as Sera and Astarion himself. “Now go find him before he starts complaining you kept him waiting.”

As she climbed the ladder up to the rooftop of the Elfong, Sera was greeted by the unexpected sound of voices. Voices that were in fact familiar to her. Pausing before she emerged, she listened for a moment, making sure she wasn’t interrupting something personal. 

“Stop prevaricating, Wyll, and tell me which you like best!” Astarion was clearly agitated. 

“They all have their merits, my friend, but is this really the thing we should be worrying about at this moment?” Wyll spoke in a tone like one trying to reason with an ill-tempered cat; very fitting, she would admit.

“Of course it is! This may well determine my whole life after we take on this brain.”

Normally, she wouldn't consider intruding further, but when the man she loved was talking about the rest of his life, it felt like the conversation was relevant to her. Sera poked her head out of the hatch and glanced around. 

Wyll and Astarion were staring down at a table, facing away from her, the rays of the setting sun illuminating them and making Astarion almost seem to glow with an ethereal light. The two seemed to be studying something. Silently, she took the last step up onto the roof. 

“They’re all fine ideas, but wouldn’t a nice dinner here suffice, and make the least amount of distraction?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a romantic, Wyll? Does the least amount of effort sound romantic to you? And in case you’ve forgotten, I don’t eat, so that will be a long, awkward evening,” Astarion snarled, and Sera thought maybe it was time to intervene in… whatever it was that was going on.

“Why is this so important now? It really can't wait?” Wyll continued with a patience that was nearly godlike.

“Of course not! I need to show I'm capable of this relationship, before these worms are out of our heads.” Astarion’s posture drooped, and Sera started toward him without thinking about it. “If I wait until after, she might rethink things; decide she wants something normal without the looming possibility of ceramorphosis.”

He really didn't understand yet. 

Thanks to his distraction, Sera managed to creep up behind him. “Love, if I wanted something normal, I would never have gone off into the woods with a vampire in the middle of the night.” 

Astarion stiffened and Wyll glanced behind his shoulder, giving a little snort laugh at her words. Astarion’s elbow met his ribs sharply and he glowered at their friend. 

“You know, I think it’s time for me to head downstairs,” Wyll said, cheerily, giving Sera a wave as walked away. “Wouldn’t want to keep Karlach waiting.”

“By all means,” Astarion turned to address Wyll’s back. “And thanks for all the help.” His voice was laced with faux sweetness. 

Wyll laughed again before vanishing below. 

When he was out of sight, Sera turned her attention to her uneasy lover, eyes glancing down at that paper strewn over the table. Phrases caught her eye, “bathhouse,” “stargazing,” that would be what the romance talk had been about. 

Astarion gazed down at her with a sheepish expression. Once he might have gotten defensive, but he’d come a long way. There was the slightest bit of pink coloring his cheeks, proof of his recent well-fed status. 

“Astarion…” she started.

“Sera, I-”

“Sit.” She gestured to the chair waiting behind him. 

He huffed but complied and Sera followed after, clambering into his lap, skirt riding up to her thighs, legs around his waist, hips settling against his, intimate. She was confident now he’d tell her if he didn’t want the closeness, the physicality. Instead, his arms came around her waist, tugging her closer, and his head rested on her chest. 

“What’s all this about?” One hand stroked through his hair, the other made small circles on his back. 

His first answer was a sigh and she kissed the top of his head. 

“We can stay like this all night until you talk.”

“Mmm, that is a terrible threat. How will I ever cope with such torture.” He nuzzled harder against her chest. 

Then he fell into that uncanny stillness he was capable of, no longer attempting to feign the qualities of the living; he was still as death. Sera didn't speak for a few minutes, allowing him whatever comfort he was seeking. 

Finally, he made a soft, contented noise.

“What are you doing?” she asked, hands having stilled to simply hold him close. 

“Listening to your heart. It's soothing.” That was new. Or maybe he'd never been comfortable enough to admit it before. 

“Really.”

“The steady rhythm, beating out the declaration that you're alive, and impossibly this close to me, over and over. Gods, that was saccharin.” He added a shaky laugh after his words. 

“It was, you must really be vexed.” She kissed the top of his head, face pressing into silken curls. 

“It's just, Wyll has done all these wonderfully romantic things for Karlach, and, provided we all survive, he'll be an ideal partner. He knows how to have a real relationship. And I -” 

“And you're ridiculous.” Sera heard him grumble in response to her words. “After everything, I'm hardly going to change my mind because we haven't had a conventionally romantic outing. Picnics in the park and candle-lit evenings wouldn't make you something you're not.”

“And I suppose you're happy to just keep rolling in the dirt and living in the dark?” 

“Are you there?”

“You're infuriating.” 

“No, I'm truthful. Now, kiss me you idiot.” 

To emphasize her point, Sera reached down, and tucking a hand under his chin, tilted his face to look up at her. Soft crimson eyes gazed up at her, making her heart flutter. She doubted that they would ever stop doing that to her. 

Astarion eagerly met her halfway, lips fervently seeking hers; the cooling blood in his veins leaving them just slightly warmer than a fresh corpse. His lips parted and Sera's tongue darted between them to tease his. Fingers dug into her sides and Astarion moaned into their kiss. 

Growing hardness pressed against her sex through the thin barrier of her small clothes, and instinctively she rolled her hips over it, tongue still ravaging Astarion’s mouth. They were supposed to be talking out whatever was bothering him, but maybe demonstrating was better. 

Breaking the kiss, she gripped the back of the chair to grind herself roughly against him, drawing out a needy whimper. 

“Sera…” he breathed out in a strangled gasp.

“Shh, let me take care of you.” She guided his hands to her shoulders where they were out of the way, her eyes kept on his to make sure he was comfortable with her taking charge.

Pushing her skirt further up, she reached for the laces to his breeches, deftly tugging them open to free his straining cock, already wet with precum. Fingers wrapped around it, stroking him with his own wetness. “You like that?” 

His eyes had fluttered shut, and he tilted his head back, exposing the elegant lines of his neck. Beautiful beyond words. “Gods, yes, darling, don't stop.” 

His hands remained obediently where she left them, fingers squeezing her shoulder ever so slightly. 

Between her legs, her own arousal was an empty ache but she would fill it soon. “You'll tell me if you don't want something, right?” She stopped her ministrations to give him space to answer. 

In typical Astarion fashion, he huffed, opening his eyes to stare at her indignantly. “Of course I will-” 

“Good boy,” she cut him off, and leaned forward to kiss that tempting neck of his before teasing the flesh between her teeth to suck and nibble at it. 

“Fuck.” His hips bucked up into her stilled hand. 

She loved it when he ran out of elegant words. 

Finding her way back to his lips, she reached between her legs, pulling her smalls to the side, to let the length of him rub along her naked clit, feeling her growing wetness. “See what you do to me, Astarion.”

When he tried to answer, she kissed him again, continuing to move her hips and create the most delicious friction. Moving from his lips, she traced a line of kisses along his jaw to his ear, a sinful idea in her mind. The tip of her tongue darted out to lap at his earlobe and Astarion gasped. Encouraged, she licked along the length of it, ever-so-gently, and Astarion outright whined, rolling his hips under her, obviously trying to thrust inside her waiting heat. 

One hand came up to tangle in his curls, stilling him, but not stopping any of the noises spilling out of him. He seemed to enjoy the rough touch, leaning into it. “Ask me nicely,” she whispered in his ear, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Taking charge was an unexpected turn for her, but not an unpleasant one. 

“Please,” he begged and she tugged his hair again. “Please fuck me.” 

“That’s better,” Sera purred and reached between them to guide him into her slick entrance. 

He sank into her with a moan, and to his credit, his hands still firmly grasped her shoulders. 

“You feel so good inside me,” she praised and felt his cock twitch in response. 

With slow, deliberate movements, she rolled her hips, not giving him much of what he wanted. She returned her attention to his ear, tongue lavishing along the length of it, while bringing her fingers up to stroke along the other one. 

It seemed like Astarion was going to say something but all that came out was a noise that sounded like, “mmgggn.” 

Gently, gauging his reaction, she closed her teeth around the edge of it. He yelped her name, every muscle quivering as though he were fighting the urge to thrust up into her. 

For a moment, she released the flesh she had been teasing and whispered, “You like that, love,” before taking it back between her teeth.

The high pitched whine that answered set her ablaze; thoughts of control spiraling away until there was only instinct and the vampire writhing beneath her. Her hips snapped, fucking herself on him just to hear more of those lovely sounds. She continued to suck and nibble his ear, working her way to the very tip, her other hand drawing circles around the other ear. 

“I… I’m going…” Astarion words were forced out between breathy gasps and whimpers. “Hells.” 

She looked at him, truly looked at him, lost in bliss, so different from their first night together. Had she been so blind, that she couldn't see the facade? She had known something was wrong, but how deeply wrong had eluded her. But here was his real beauty, shining like a star, the beauty of being safe, loved, cherished. It didn’t matter that she didn’t finish, only that he knew his worth to her. 

“Such a good boy, trying to wait. Come for me, love.” 

Astarion lost himself, crying out as she pressed herself tight against him, taking all of him. His head slumped against her shoulder and Sera idly played with his curls. 

“Gods below, what was that?” Astarion’s voice creaked a little, the aftereffect of his particularly vocal performance. 

“I thought showing was better than telling. And it worked, I bet you don’t even remember what you were moping about.” 

“Well, I was worried you would want a more normal relationship but given we’ve been up here fucking in this chair for the whole city to see, I think you might be a little more of a freak than I gave you credit for. I will miss the delusion of having seduced a very proper little noble lady.” He giggled against her neck before kissing it softly, and her heart overflowed with contentment.  

“Says the weirdo who let me believe he was a very suave vampire.” She planted a kiss on his temple. “Shall we go in and get cleaned up? We have a long day…” Her words trailed off as the icy tendrils of fear gripped her heart for a moment and she fought them back. They had started their moves against Gortash but nothing would be gained from breaking now, not when they’d come so far. 

“We do have a long day tomorrow, and our fearless leader needs her rest.” Astarion sat up to look in her eyes, his own brimming with concern and sincerity. “But no matter what happens, I’ll be at your side, my love.” 

Sera knew it was true. She and Astarion were bound to one another - whatever tomorrow would bring, the rest of her life would be spent with him.

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[birdmitosis]

Voice of the Cold for the ask game, i hope I got here first D:

OMG, you did! :D And I am so happy to answer about Cold.

First impression

Pretty sure my first impression was of him in the Spectre route, and I was curious, a bit positively inclined, mostly on the strengths of how well he fit how we got him and also how hot his voice was. 😔 Yeah, I'll admit it. I looked forward to seeing more from him and was intrigued by the seeming discrepancy between his "emotionless" claims and his blatant grudge against the Narrator.

Impression now

I LOVE COLD SO MUCH. Ohhh, he is as much of a trauma response as the rest of them and is both driven to keep himself safe and also experience something new (which is itself not safe) and also not care about safety... He is dismissive and deeply caring and he can't stand stagnancy and yet he feels at home when everything unravels into the Long Quiet. One of my Top 3 faves I think.

Favorite moment

There are a lot of moments I could choose here but I think I still have to give it to my bias: Cold in the Wraith chapter alongside Paranoid. Especially this sequence:

This has lived rent-free in my head since I first saw it, it just hits me so hard in a "none of them are fully wrong but none are fully right either" way and says so much about Cold in the context of other things... Especially the absolutely wild "If you can tolerate joy, you can tolerate pain" line, like UM EXCUSE ME?

(But the whole chapter is great, with Cheated as well as with Paranoid, but I have a bias for so many moments with the Paranoid version, like the "you think you are brave" line from Wraith and the fact that Cold must have helped with the efforts to toss the body into the void... Wraith is a severely underrated chapter, I feel!)

Idea for a story

Look, because of the way I fandom, all my ideas are for shipfic and ParaCold is 1000% my OTP, soooo...

That said, a specific idea I've actually had that I still kinda want to use with something, that I may have mentioned before, is Hunted making a point that they need each other (as a group) and at their best they cover each others' blind spots and shore up each others' weak points.

When Cold pulls something along the lines of his "I'm special" thing, Hunted ends up challenging him to a "play" fight (no actual wounds being left, "wounds" marked with something like chalk or berry juice or something, fake blade, etc.). And by the time Cold calls that he's "killed" Hunted (and so obviously he's right that he doesn't need help/he has no weak spots that actually matter), Hunted can point out that he's managed to land enough "minor" blows that Cold would be bleeding out by now too, because he doesn't guard himself at all.

(I also kinda want to look more into a super queer TTRPG called Moonlight on Roseville Beach because I wanna play around a bit with an AU for it where the six possible player character "origin stories" are filled by Hero, Contrarian, Cold, Paranoid, the Princess, and the Narrator... "[In] Moonlight on Roseville Beach, it's the summer of 1979 and you work in the village by day while protecting yourself, your housemates, and your neighbors from supernatural monstrosities and occult horrors by night," and it's in a queernorm setting where LGBTQIA+ characters are considered the norm, with a "focus on queer people succeeding at keeping themselves and their communities safe (at least for a time).")

Unpopular opinion

TBH I also agree that Cold isn't all that edgy. I think he's quite straightforward most of the time and definitely has some issues -- I think he likes prodding at some of the other characters more than some people realize but also less than some people act like, he really does jump to "we could stab" very quickly as a response, he seems happy to encourage potential violence against himself if he finds it interesting in some way, he has a surprisingly big ego -- but also blatantly cares despite how he often talks, is curious and wants new things, and seems to like connecting with the other voices and even, sometimes, the vessels.

I also think he isn't as hard to get along with as some people think, in the sense of, I think he has like three different "modes" when it comes to interacting with people:

He vibes with how you do things, in which case he goes along quite well, is agreeable and calm, and seems to like you. (Skeptic in the Drowned Grey chapter is a clear example, but so is Cheated in the Wraith I think; IMO Hero and Hunted would go here as well.)

There's enough push-and-pull there that he finds you interesting, in which case he can get a bit intense, prod you some just to see the push back, might sometimes go along just to see what you'll do, and it's a bit harder to tell if he likes you (but honestly he does). (IMO Paranoid would go here, and I do actually think Smitten goes here as well.)

Neither of the above apply, in which case he's just bored of you, and if forced into constant proximity with you, annoyed. (Stubborn in MOC is the most blatant example; IMO Broken would go here as well, ironically outside of if you somehow managed to get Cold alongside him in the Tower route.)

(The first two can be true simultaneously for some people; I feel like Contrarian would be in both. Weirdly, I feel like Opportunist is somehow in both #2 and #3? Stubborn could eventually go into #2, under better circumstances. And the Narrator fits a special category of "fuck you" where He doesn't quite fit #2 but there are some similarities, Cold just doesn't like Him.)

...This got a bit weird and long and out of Unpopular Opinion territory, huh. WELL, TL;DR Cold isn't edgy and actually likes a good number of the other voices.

Favorite relationship

I mean, y'all can guess this one, right? >_>

No, but honestly, as a ship it's definitely ParaCold. But in a totally platonic way, I also really love his dynamic with Hero in the Spectre route, especially if you free Her, and with Skeptic in the Drowned Grey chapter (okay, okay, I can see that one as either platonic or shippy). And his dynamic with the Narrator fascinates me but I can't ever see them getting along.

Favorite headcanon

I love the idea that Cold picks up new things all the time, and whether he sticks with them or not he gets surprisingly good at them first. Skills, hobbies, other languages. I can imagine his handwriting getting better more quickly than a lot of the other voices because of this, and him also managing to bond with the others over doing their hobbies with them.

[nucleo-bang-tan]

Grayscale Pt.3 | JJK

Pairing/s: Jungkook X Reader, Cha Eunwoo X Reader

Rating/s: No detailed explicit content, but wouldn't recommend it for minors.

Genre: Cheating AU, highschool sweethearts, first love, Moving On AU

Word Count: 3.1 k

Warning/s: OC talks to Jungkook, a bit possessive Jungkook, healing, closure, PDA, adopting, pregnancy.

A/N: Not proofread!!! Please leave comments, I would love to hear from you guys. Critique my writing and tell me if I'm doing anything wrong, really appreciate it.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The act of letting someone sucks your life away. Seeing Jungkook again for the divorce was harder than you thought.

Even though he wanted to, he never begged you again to take him back. Both of you knew, clinging onto each other would cause more pain than healing.

"That's not how you play the game! You're cheating." You giggled.

Eunwoo could feel his heart flutter at you being happy, your eyes crinkling into crescents. This was the first time he saw you so cheerful after the incident. He couldn't help but wonder what made Jungkook hurt such a genuine and kind soul.

"I'm not gonna win against you if I don't cheat." He teased.

"So you admit it!" You hit his arm playfully.

"Hey now, violence is not the answer."

There was a moment of laughter followed by silence before you spoke up, "Call me sappy, but I'm going to miss you. Like a lot."

"1 month, huh? I think you can handle it." He said, brushing his hair back.

You couldn't help but well up at the thought of him leaving for that long, "You're supposed to say 'I'm gonna miss you too' dumbass."

He sighed, "Thank you..."

"I should do the thanking here." You chuckled, looking at him nervously.

"Thank you for not laughing at me being a loser at games..." He took your hand in his, "...thank you for being my friend."

His unfeigned tone made you cry out. He knew it was coming, he had to go on his business trip real soon. But he had a few months, which he decided to spend consoling you.

Like he did now, he wrapped his arms around you, letting you cry on his chest, tears staining his shirt.

Jungkook and Gaeul left you with serious trust issues. But Eunwoo never left any corners for you to not trust him. It was as if you trusted no one but him.

Your parents, as expected, had the phrase, 'i told you so' written on their faces. They were never happy with your relationship, always hoping you'd marry a guy of their choice. You wondered if that would have been better.

Jungkook's parents visited you a day before your legal seperation. His father went as far as to threaten you to not break off the marriage. It would damage his reputation as a CEO.

Eunwoo politely yet sternly told them to leave and held you as you cried for an hour after that.

Your nights were sleepless. You had been with Jungkook for so long, that you couldn't sleep without his presence. Eunwoo would sacrifice his sleep to sing and hum for you as you tried to sleep.

Most of his attempts would go to vain but he still kept humming for you.

"I-I don't want you to go."

"I have to, Y/n." He hugged you tighter.

Maybe this wasn't the right time to tell you what he thought about you. But this was the only time he had. You were left broken after what Jungkook did, and Eunwoo didn't want risk your comfort and trust in him.

But he had to tell you.

"Y/n... I-"

You pull back to look at him, eyes red with the tears shed, "Eunwoo?"

How he wished it was him instead of Jungkook. How he wished Jungkook would have never met you, then you'd find a real man (Eunwoo) to cherish you.

He remembered the first time he saw you in college, stumbling in late to a lecture because you were messing around with Jungkook. Your hair a bit unkempt but nothing too wild.

He remembered how you sat beside him and he couldn't help but ask you your name. The two of you immediately clicked.

He remembered how his stomach dropped when he heard you had a boyfriend. He was still extremely close to you, despite you already having Gaeul as your 'best friend.'

He remembered the night where he actually fell for you. The night where your friends left to explore a foreign city you visited. Gaeul and Jungkook took advantage of the situation and went missing as well. You and Eunwoo were left alone. Both of you sat in the pool of the hotel, looked at the stars and talked about everything. Until you fell asleep and Jungkook came to carry you back to your room.

He remembered how he felt light headed when Jungkook asked him to plan a proposal for you. But he still smiled and decided to help him. Atleast you were happy, he thought.

He took a deep breath, "I like you. Heck, I may even be in love with you. Please don't take this the wrong way but... I've had feelings for you ever since we first met. I'm not pressuring you or-"

You cut him off with a smile, "Eunwoo, it's okay. I know."

"I wish I could stop myself but- wait. You know?"

You nod, slightly laughing at his nervous state, "I know, Eunwoo. I've always known. But I need time to get over...you know."

"Yes...yes! I don't care if you don't feel the same way, I just had to let you know how I felt."

You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve, "I don't want you to wait for me, I don't know when I'll move on from him, or if I even will move on."

Eunwoo gently wiped away a lingering tear from your cheek, his touch soft and reassuring. "I'll wait for you, Y/n. No matter how long it takes. You deserve to heal at your own pace."

You gave him a small, grateful smile, "Thank you, Eunwoo. That means more to me than you'll ever know."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Did you get everything?" You asked.

"Calm down, I'll be alright. But you're the one who needs to take care." He held your hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb to warm you up a bit.

It was already time for him to go. So, you along with a few of your friends were here on a chilly morning to bid him farewell.

After sharing a few hugs, he finally approached you for a hug, to which you responded by jumping onto him making him stumble back a bit.

You hugged him tightly, burying your face in his chest, taking in his scent. You laughed, "Who said I wasn't going to tease your loser ass?"

Eunwoo couldn't help but hug you tighter. He couldn't do it again for another month, he tried to memorize every soft detail of your embrace.

It didn't take long for your laughter to seize. A person caught your attention. He stood there with a long trench coat and every recognisable characteristics covered except his puffy eyes. The sight of him brought an unexpected surge of emotions. You hadn't anticipated seeing him here, especially not today.

Jungkook.

What was he doing at the airport?

"Y/n, you're crying. Are you okay?" Eunwoo asked being concerned. He followed your line of sight and realised who caught your attention.

You didn't even realise you were crying until Eunwoo pointed it out. Jungkook stood at a fair distance. You noticed he was alone.

The two of you just stared at each other, you didn't want to talk to him and he understood that.

You felt a warm hand on your cheek. Eunwoo turned your head to look at him.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay." The approaching panic attack you felt was suddenly subdued with his words.

He leaned in to kiss your tear-stained cheek. He looked straight in your eyes when he said, "I love you. Believe me on that, yeah?"

"P-Please be safe." You tried your best not to look at your ex-husband; you focused your eyes onto the man in front of you.

"I'll see you soon." He held you in his arms one last time, only to let go hesitantly. ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jungkook looked at you and Eunwoo, he had no right to be angry, he had no right to want to kick Eunwoo in the balls. He chuckled bitterly at his own thoughts.

Jungkook didn't know why you were here, he didn't know how you noticed him in a crowded space. He swallowed thickly and maybe it was the fact that he just wanted to disappear from your sight, but he turned around and decided to quickly walk away with his luggage.

He initially walked briskly but he resorted to running a few seconds in. His empty stomach didn't take him very far though; he stumbled and fell onto his knees in a scarcely crowded area of the airport.

Seeing you happy brought all the memories flush back to him. Your touch, your voice, your smile, your eyes, you was all he could think of. He doubled over in pain, quietly sobbing into his palms, his luggage laying beside him. Crying had become a second nature by now.

It clawed him from inside, you were his and only his but he knew he could no longer have you. He wanted to bawl out loud, beg you to start everything over again, but he had promised himself to stay away from you.

Fate had other plans though, he was returning to Seoul from his hometown when he saw you with Eunwoo and a bunch of close friends. The ones who used to his friends as well.

Jungkook looked at his shaky palms which were wet from his tears. He had good friends, a good work-life balance, and the best of all, he had you. But now his colleagues and employees were doubting his abilities due to his bad performance at work.

He'd never be present at his office after the divorce. One would always find him at his house or at the gym, jabbing the life out of the punching bag till he fainted.

It took him 15 minutes to realise it was extremely chilly at the airport, he decided to gather himself and sit in the car. Sure, he couldn't stop crying, but atleast he could smell the vanilla scented car freshner you had bought.

He leaned his head back, his nose taking in your favourite scent.

A knock on the window startled him. It was as if he was dreaming, and he probably was. Because it was you.

You opened the car door and got in the passenger's seat, "Glad to know you still kept the car freshner."

Now, Jungkook didn't have any issues with breathing, ever. But today, his lungs stopped working. It was you. You were in his car, but why?

"Y-Y/n..."

You looked like you had been crying as well but at the moment, you were neither sad nor happy, you just looked pissed.

You sighed, "Did you eat today?"

The question was so simple, so casual. But it hit something inside Jungkook's heart. He leaned down towards you, as if bowing to you and let his tears flow.

"I asked you something..." You said, trying to be cold. He looked you in the eyes and shook his head.

He didn't want to put you in a position where you had to take him back, but he still took your hands in his, "I was such-"

He was cut off by you repelling from his touch, "Please don't touch me, Jungkook. I'm not here to forgive you."

"O-oh, I'm so fucking sorry." He sniffed.

"You look awful."

"You look beautiful, as always." He said sincerely, making you blush a bit.

"I'm here because I care for you. Don't get the wrong idea but, I don't think I'll ever stop caring for you, Jungkook. Why aren't you looking after yourself?"

Jungkook was flustered by your suddeness. He had expected you to have moved on by now. But the fact that you were crying a while ago and you were here, in his car, said otherwise.

"It just isn't the same." He croaked out.

"Ofcourse it isn't, Jungkook. I wonder why."

"Y/n, I know you hate me, I know you don't want me anymore. But I don't want you to be kind to me." He closed his eyes, "Please curse at me, hit me, let it out. It's just me."

"It's not just you. I don't know you. You're a stranger to me." You said coldly.

Jungkook didn't answer, it was more like he couldn't answer. He looked down at his palm, which weren't shaky anymore. It was you who calmed him down.

You sigh, "I assume you have been talking to Gaeul?"

"I haven't, I don't even intend to."

"I called her a couple of months ago. She was livid at you. Said she'll slap you the next time she sees you." You chuckled, "She told me a lot about how you guys began and stuff. But it was the last time I'll ever talk to her."

He wiped his runny nose, "I guess you know about the time I threw her out of our house."

"Your... your house."

"Right, my house." He corrected himself.

After a moment of silence, Jungkook raised his head to look at you. He saw the love of his life looking outside the window. You looked as beautiful as the day he asked you out, if not more.

"Y/n, I-I love you."

You turned towards him to see a man who used to be the love of your life. He looked barely alive, barely living. Yet, somehow, his eyes were as pretty as always. But they didn't hold the universe you saw around a decade ago. They were just pretty eyes.

"You know there's a theory, if you stop loving someone, it means you never loved them in the first place. Love can never go away.

I probably won't ever stop loving you. But I don't want you, Jungkook. I've moved on."

"I-I know, I understand." Even though he knew, there was a huge part of him that wanted you to come back. That wanted you all to himself.

"Would you have kept the affair going if I never found out?" You asked.

"No, no! I wanted to stop, I promise. It started as a way for stress relief when you weren't available, but then..."

You scoff, "Then what, Jungkook? You loved to cheat on me, is it? You just loved to humiliate me? Makes sense."

Your tone didn't sound like yourself. You've never talked to Jungkook in this way, but then again, you couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Y/n, please, trust me. I've never wanted anyone but you. I've never loved her, I've never enjoyed the sex more. I just... don't know."

"You just loved the thrill of it all, didn't you. Cheating on your girlfriend, then on your fucking wife. How fucking far were you willing to go for sex?" A single tear rolled down your cheek.

Jungkook wished he could say otherwise. He wished he would've thought with his heart rather than his dick. All he could do was mutter sorry's.

"I forgive you, Jungkook." You said looking away.

His breath hitched as he heard the words come out of your mouth.

"I forgive you. The only thing you can do for me is take care of yourself and move on."

"I-I don't think I can." He sobbed, his stomach did flips that made him nauseous.

You finally touched him and intertwined your fingers with his, it was familiar but it didn't feel like home anymore.

"Cook for yourself, eat better, yeah?" You smiled.

"I can't do this without you, Y/n."

"You can, I know you can."

"I can't, I fucking can't. Please..."

You slowly let go of his hand as he kept saying 'no'.

"I'm sorry, baby." You whispered, "I have to leave."

You opened the car door and got out. Jungkook wished he could see you clearly, but his vision was blurred. You waved a final goodbye and gently closed the door.

As he saw you walk away, he noticed you took the car freshner with you, a subtle way to let him move on.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Eunwoo!" You rushed over to him and captured him in an embrace. He twirled you around as you both laughed.

His month long business trip had already ended and he had just returned to Seoul.

He let you down and spoke, "How have you-"

He was cut off by you pulling him extremely close to you face. Your noses were touching and lips only a few millimetres away.

Eunwoo's eyes widened. He was definitely dreaming. Or did the plane crash on his way back and he was in heaven?

"I've not done this before but..." You said softly, "Would you go out with me?"

"I think you know what I'll say to that." He closed the distance between your lips.

It was like the two of you were alone at the airport. The nasty glares from strangers didn't exist, nor did any other problem in the world.

Eunwoo would be happy even if the world ended this very moment. But then again, he wouldn't get to love you enough.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jungkook exhaled softly as he blinked his eyes, trying to wake up. He slowly pushed himself up and sat against the headboard.

He shivered, ofcourse. It was too cold without you. It had been 5 years already but no morning went without a thought of you.

As an unhealthy daily habit, he took his phone from the side table. Instinctively, his thumb went to Instagram to stalk you. His eyebrows furrowed realising you changed your profile picture.

This didn't seem right to him. Why was Eunwoo holding you like that? He decided to check your feed. Something wasn't right. There was a recent post from you.

A post announcing your pregnancy.

It took him a full minute to process what was happening. You were having a baby, with someone that wasn't him.

He blinked back his tears, reading the caption, 'You're gonna be the best father.' with a photo of Eunwoo holding your slightly large belly.

He reminded himself, there was more to live for. He should've moved on by now but he simply couldn't. His thoughts were so loud that he couldn't hear small footsteps. The person climbed onto the bed and peeked into his phone.

"Is that mommy?" He asked making Jungkook snap out of it.

"Ah, Jaehyun." He took the 7 year old in his arms.

"Isn't that mommy, daddy?" The child persisted.

"No, Jaehyun. She's just a woman I love."

"So, she's mommy?"

He sighed. How would he explain this to a 7 year old? Jungkook didn't want to bluntly tell him that he was adopted and didn't have a mother.

"Let's go for a walk with Bam. I'll tell you everything about the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

[poisonedfate]

hi <3 for that ask game, merthur #16? if you need details then i request fluffy merthur having breakfast in bed but i'll leave it up to you!!

send me prompts

16 - "You're getting crumbs all over my bed":

As soon as Merlin, along with the breakfast tray he was carrying, were what he deemed "close enough" to Arthur, he plopped down on the bed, legs dangling over the edge of it, the rest of him pressed comfortably in the messed up sheets. One more barely-there effort was made to push said breakfast towards Arthur before he let out a sigh that had been building up in his chest, allowing the softness of the bed to draw him in. 

"Good morning to you, too," Arthur muttered - if an eye roll were to be a tone in which one spoke, this would probably be it. Merlin just groaned in response. Arthur no longer questioned his antics, and Merlin had it in good confidence that Arthur quite liked having him in his bed. The other even let him have a few minutes of (almost) complete silence before speaking. 

"Why are you so tired today then?" the prince asked between bites, offering Merlin his usual cue for his complaints of the day - or rather, the day before. 

Today, however, Merlin didn't have any good reasons to give, so, instead, he decided to do the second-best thing.

"Well, because you treat me like an animal."

"I do not-," Arthur immediately countered, only to be interrupted by Merlin peaking up at him with one eye, beaming. 

The prince's unimpressed look was the last thing he saw before shutting his eyes again, though Arthur's expression had quickly changed to an amused one by the time Merlin was forced to look up again, a grape bouncing off his forehead. He feigned offence, as he propped himself up on one arm, but Arthur simply raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded his head as if to say 'this is what you get'. Merlin felt around the bed, looking for the poor abandoned grape - thankfully, it had rolled closer to him, tucked in between the bed and his side. Without taking his eyes off Arthur, he threw the grape in his own mouth, chewing on it more aggressively than any normal person would, making Arthur chuckle. 

He grabbed a handful of the grapes that were still left on the tray, before lying back down, smiling to himself. 

"Hey!"

"Sharing is caring."

"This isn't sharing, it's stealing."

"Stealing is......feeling," Merlin quickly retorted before adding, "and stop talking with your mouth so full."

He could hear Arthur shift for a moment, already knowing what was about to come.

"Don't tell me what to do," the prince answered, more muffled than before, mouth as full as he could get it. Merlin only groaned again.

"You're getting crumbs all over my bed."

"Your bed?" Arthur exclaimed, still half-muffled. Merlin stared at the ceiling, eyebrows slightly furrowed, wondering why that was the thing he had decided to say in the first place. 

"Well, I make it and keep it clean, I put you in it and take you out of it. You merely use it. I think by all accounts it's more mine than it is yours," he finally answered after a few moments. 

Arthur was silent then - as if he was actually considering what Merlin had said.

"Does that mean I'm yours too? You dress me and feed me and so on, I merely use this body-," Merlin interrupted him with a glare, though it didn't wipe off the stupid smile that had appeared on Arthur's face.

"I think I'm going to be sick," 

"Hey! It would be a privilege-"

"A privilege? You are a pain in my backside," Arthur faked offence at that just as Merlin had done earlier. 

"How dare you?" the prince leaned closer, positioning himself so that his face was now almost directly above Merlin's own. 

"What are you going to do? Throw more fruit at me?" he asked, tapping the grape he was holding between his fingers against Arthur's mouth before putting it between his own lips. A redness crept into Arthur's cheeks and Merlin couldn't help himself, as he put his weight on one of his arms again, getting even closer to the other.

"No? Didn't think so. Now why don't you get out of my bed and start your day, sire," he smiled, placing a quick kiss near - but not on - Arthur's mouth. 

"You," he paused, kissing Merlin on the lips this time, "can't tell me what to do."

"Ah, see, apparently, you're all mine so I think I can," Merlin smiled, leaping out of bed and out of Arthur's reach. 

[the-dawn-star]

Heyyy, hope your doing well! I was wondering if I could request Sukuna x fem!teen! reader platonic (if you aren't comfortable writing for fem reader then nonbinary is fine as well) in modern day (so yuji is sukuna's vessel) and sukuna taking an interest in reader like he finds her powerful/interesting and decides to take her under his wing?? Tyy <3

A/N: Hey and thanks for the request! I changed the idea a bit but I hope you like it still.

-S

+500ish words.

You had never met Sukuna personally, which is something that Yuuji was very grateful for.  

It was a weird little thing that Sukuna did when Yuuji was with you. He shut up. At first Yuuji was a bit worried of the sudden silence of the curse but let it go after understanding that this was his brief moment of silence.  

But really Sukuna was studying you and for that reason so quiet. He could see the power that surrounded you. He saw the potential that you had, but the jujutsu sorcerers didn’t seem to see that the same way.  

The unused potential really caught Sukuna’s attention and in the dark of the night, when Yuuji was asleep, his defenses were easy to break.  

Sukuna took control of the body, giving himself a few minutes to stretch before leaving the room.  

He didn’t have a clear mission for the evening, more it was the need for control of his vessel and need for getting outside even if for a moment.  

The grounds were completely silent if not for a grunting of your training.  

Sukuna followed your sounds, finding you in the training grounds. 

Your hits were poorly placed, and Sukuna was sure that you were going to sprain your arm at some point if you hadn’t already.  

All that potential... but whoever had trained you should not be doing it...  

You punched the punching bag hitting with cursed energy infused into your punch and as a result the bag broke off of its place and flew a few feet away from you thudding to the ground sadly.  

And at the same time you felt the piercing pain in your arm, and you let out a tiny whine.  

“You should be in bed.”  

You turned away seeing your friend standing lazily behind you.  

“So, should you too, Yuuji.” You said, smiling to your friend. The darkness really covered the marks that started to come to your vision as Sukuna walked closer to you before standing right in front of you.  

Terror landed on your face as you realized who was standing in front of you and for a second you forgot the pain in your arm.  

Sukuna laid his hand to your arm where the piercing pain was and for a second you expected him to rip you to pieces.  

But he didn’t, instead the pain lessened slowly before disappearing completely.  

You couldn’t help but stare at the curse.  

“I will see you tomorrow night here. And maybe with a little bit of practice you can reach your true potential.” It wasn’t a question; it was an order. 

“Why...” Your voice was shaking.  

“Because these idiots are never going to let you be as strong as you truly are...”  

You didn’t have time to say anything else, as Sukuna turned around and went back inside, leaving you alone in the yard.  

Feel like you want to support me via Kofi? No preasure tho!

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep6 Musings: Loumand (Spoilers)

Armand stressed me TF out this episode; I can't believe they had me yelling at my favorite TVC book character this much on this dang show. But I still stand by what I said about him having good intentions--

--but by god does this man make the worst decisions for the best reasons.

FACTS, I can't stand modern art. The first vamp capitalist, faaaacts.

The first vamp pilot--Louis WANTS to fly now!? Or maybe it's just the Cloud Gift that freaks him out; a vampire taking him up without his control/consent?

I cannot BELIEVE they're banging in Armand's office right in front of that flimsy glass door--that's why the coven hated y'all. 🤦 Rubbing in their faces that Lou can do whatever--and whoever--he wants.

OF COURSE that mofo was gonna say No--DUH! Lou, Armand don't want Lestat's spawn, he wants Lestat's SEED, there's a DIFFERENCE. 😅

He. Didn't. NO. The attitude in Lou's neck rolls had me QUAKING. AMC is leaning IN to Armand withholding more than Lestat, jfc. 😬

It was NOT ok, Armand. That was your cue to be part of the family, and join Lou as he went to the IVF clinic to get his eggs fertilized with YOUR seed, MORON. 🤦 Y'all could've been the Le Russe/Romanus family! Now they'll always be Lioncourts! 😩 Alexa, play Rolling in the Deep, cuz they could've had it all! 😔🎵 🎶

☝️ SAY IT LOUDER! ☝️

Roleplay don't mean ISH outside the bedroom--just cuz Armand's a subby bottom don't mean he didn't hold ALL the power the whole time; eff what Lou said, asked or "ordered." I said back in S1: Les & Armand HUMOR Lou, and let him pretend to be in charge (X X). It's called POWER IMBALANCE.

It looks like childbirth gone wrong.

Lou going from battered wife depression in S1 to post-partum-depression in S2. 😔 So Loius tried to kill himself again? By bleeding out? Throwing up all the blood he drank from Madeleine. Dang.

What "you did to yourself" is a little inaccurate, considering it was YOUR insensitive words that triggered him and made him want to yeet himself into the sun! This is what I always mean by Armand taking advantage of Louis' agency, cuz Louis was CLEARLY not in his right mind at the time to be asking for anything THAT serious, which he NEVER would've done elsewise.

So, 3 days after Louis' failed suicide attempt, he asked for his mind to be wiped--cuz he was still TRAUMATIZED, Armand! 🤦

Lou got high as a kite (if he was ever sober in SanFran.....)

Nearly killed the first human who managed to get anywhere towards helping him process his PTSD--if not just VENT a bit; as he hadn't spoken Lestat's name in 20+ years by that point.

Vented all his resentment to Armand for being hella boring

Was triggered by Armand telling Louis Claudia never loved him, wtf

Tried to kill himself by burning himself alive in the first sunrise he'd seen since Paul's suicide

Burnt to a crisp, he has to watch Armand torture TF out of Daniel, begging for his life & powerless to do anything

Then lay there all crispetty cracketty crunchetty and hear Armand have a effing telephone call with LESTAT

He even told OIdmaniel he'd been in so much pain he blanked out

Armand said drugs did a number on Dan's mind--Louis DIED an alcoholic; he was turned while he was drunk, and I bet mental illness runs in his family, too. So what damage was done to LOUIS' mind when he was in SanFran getting stoned every night b4 you scrambled his brain, Armand?!

Daniel's mind is sharp, yes, but his body sure ain't. Armand caused Daniel's Parkinsons--if it's even really Parkinsons, and not just the consequences of 6 days of bodily & mental torture, as his arm was crushed, head bashed, nose bled, and muscles were contorted. "To protect me, from YOU, my Molloy"--we been knew. "Why did I owe YOU my shame...my one act of cowardice?" Oh, you mean selling Claudia & Louis down the effing river?!

I'd bet money that Armand was so shook seeing Louis' reaction to what he said about Claudia hating Louis, and was so terrified of being on permanent suicide watch, that he was RELIEVED to have the chance to wipe Louis' memory, and soften the blow of his own culpability in WHY Claudia died hating Louis. Cuz she was HAPPY at that cafe with y'all! What happened AFTERWARDS, Armand!?

Why would vamps cheer and drink with alcohol; y'all shoulda known something was up; with this JUDAS at the effing table.

Why tf is Armand sleeping in Claudia's coffin? I guess Loumand doesn't share Louis' the way Loustat did. But better question: Why TF are they still in that flat?! I'd've left Paris for good; that was stupid of them to stay in coven territory. But I guess we know why Armand didn't insist they leave. 😒

Louis and Madz have tension. :(

This poor boy just CANNOT help himself, LOL.

LOLOLOLOLOL! Madz is NOSEY, spill all the tea, girl, yaaas! XD (The bass in Lou's voice when he says BIIIIIG HEAD nearly put me in a stretcher--omfg it was IMPROVISED!?)

👀 Yeah, he knows, alright. Knows you'll forgive him, Lou.

Cuz he felt he had nothing left if he didn't have you.

Cuz Santiago was right:

Speak of the devil, carrying the effing burlap sacks.

I could never sit there that calm and talk about all that without lunging over and pulling every follicle out of Armand's head.

Omg it's a matinee in DAYLIGHT, it's happening right then & there. 😭☀️

💀