#i still love julian with all my heart

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton Fanfic)(7/15)

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @omgsuperstarg @httpsserene @peyiswriting @motheroffae @eugene-emt-roe @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @trentswrld @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

CHAPTER 7: Who Want Smoke?

As the Qatar Grand Prix weekend kicked into high gear, Rorie and Lyric strolled the paddock, with fans waving excitedly. Lewis's popularity was stratospheric, but his family's place in the hearts of his supporters was undeniable.

They pushed through the throngs of fans and paparazzi, and Rorie was touched by the outpouring of support directed to them.

"You're an inspiration, Mrs. Hamilton!" "We love your little one!" "Hang in there, you've got this!"

One woman tentatively approached, a gentle smile on her face. "I just wanted to say, as someone who also struggled with infertility, your story gives me so much hope."

Rorie felt her throat tighten with grateful tears as she pulled the stranger into a fierce hug. "Thank you, that means so much to me."

The pit lane was abuzz with pre-race excitement as the teams made their final preparations. Rorie settled into the garage, handing a squirming Lyric over to Rosa's waiting arms. Their son, who proudly wore his custom Mercedes team romper, smiled happily at the woman.

"You're on auntie duty today," Rorie winked at Lewis's communications personnel.

Rosa grinned, cuddling the giggly toddler close on her lap. "My favorite job! We're going to have so much fun, aren't we, my little prince?"

Lyric gurgled happily, grabbing at Rosa's headset with grabby hands. With a chuckle, she gently redirected him to a Mercedes toy car instead.

"He's already a natural in front of the cameras," Rorie chuckled to herself, watching Lyric babble animatedly at the Netflix camera crew capturing footage of him playing with Rosa.

Her smile faded slightly as she scrolled through the latest flurry of emails from her legal team. Despite their relentless efforts, Julian's messages held little in the way of substantive updates on tracking down the anonymous sender of those malicious texts.

"Still digging," his latest read. "But this assailant knows how to cover their tracks."

Rorie worried her lower lip, her mind flashing back to the threats of those messages. But then Lyric's tinkling laughter drifted over, dragging her back to the present. She watched her son squirm excitedly in Rosa's lap, all smiles and unbridled joy.

As the race began, the tension in the garage was palpable. Rorie's heart pounded as she watched Lewis take his place on the starting grid, however, just seconds into the formation lap, her breath caught in her throat as she witnessed Lewis get knocked into the gravel by his teammate George, the front wing of his car destroyed.

"What the fuck is he doing?" she gasped, watching in horror as Lewis unbuckled himself and began walking along the far side of the active track back towards the pit lane.

A collective cry rose from the crew as Lewis narrowly avoided being struck by another passing car. Rorie's heart dropped to her stomach, panic gripping her.

Finally, he returned to the pit lane, jaw clenched and fists flexing agitatedly.

"What the fuck, man!!" he screamed, his fingers hurrying to take off his helmet. Rorie rushed to him, pulling his tense frame into a fierce embrace just as Lyric let out a wail of distress from Rosa's lap.

Lewis's fiery eyes softened instantly at the sound of his son's cries. He reached for the distraught toddler, cradling him close and pressing kisses to his head.

"Shhh, hey, it's okay…" he murmured soothingly. "Daddy's right here. I've got you."

Rorie wrapped her arms tightly around them both, grounding her two men with her steady, reassuring presence. Lewis melted into her embrace, the adrenaline and anger slowly seeping out of his body.

"It's okay, I'm right here," she whispered roughly into his neck, and Lewis breathed in her scent to calm his racing heart.

Rorie wrapped her arms tightly around them both, grounding her two men with her steady, reassuring presence. Lewis melted into her embrace, the adrenaline and anger slowly seeping out of his body.

"Lewis…" Bono's voice cut in tentatively. "The FIA stewards are issuing a non-driving reprimand and a 50,000 pound fine for the track incursion."

Lewis tensed, his jaw clenching as the anger flared again. "I don't give a fuck," he bit out harshly.

"Lewis!" Rorie admonished, slapping his arm chidingly before turning an apologetic look to Bono. "He doesn't mean that. We'll discuss it and work through it properly."

Once Bono had retreated, she fixed her husband with a stern look. "You don't mean that 'I don't give a fuck' nonsense."

To her surprise, Lewis simply chuckled, guiding them to a quiet corner of the garage. He set Lyric down to play with his toy car on the floor. "I mean, Toto looks pissed," he sang in a joking lilt, nodding towards his team principal's stormy expression.

Rorie rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched with amusement. "Of course you'll joke at a time like this."

"It's a better alternative than letting the anger consume me," Lewis said simply. "Now distract me with something, beautiful."

His wife's brow furrowed in thought before her eyes lit up. "Well, Julian did text some updates earlier…"

Lewis kissed his teeth dismissively. "Something better than that mess, love."

A sly grin played across Rorie's lips. "How about…I'm a week late?"

Lewis's eyes widened comically before crinkling with unfiltered joy. "You mean…?"

"We might be having another baby," she confirmed, beaming.

Sweeping her into his arms, Lewis kissed her deeply, reverently. "That's amazing. You know we've been trying…"

Rorie nodded, still glowing. "And, Lil Yachty reached out. He wants me to join him onstage in Austin to perform our song 'The Zone' together."

Lewis's eyes widened with delight before crinkling into a broad grin. "Now that's what I'm talking about! My superstar wife, sharing the spotlight." Pulling her into an embrace, he nuzzled her neck affectionately. "You're definitely doing it. I can't wait to watch you shine, love."

"You really think so?" Rorie bit her lip, a touch of apprehension creeping into her expression. "In front of all those people..."

On a whim, she recorded her parts of the song late last year and was lucky that no one had figured out that it was her singing.

"Of course!" Lewis cupped her face adoringly. "This is your moment. You're going to be incredible, I just know it." He pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling. "And after? Well, I've got a few ideas on how we can celebrate..."

Rorie's cheeks flushed hotly, but her eyes danced with anticipation. Giggling, she swatted him playfully. "Down boy. One thing at a time."

Laughing, Rorie pulled him close, reveling in the way their latest challenges had already transformed into cherished memories in the face of potential new beginnings.

The warm Malibu evening was made for intimate gatherings among friends. Rorie surveyed their patio, smiling as she watched KiKi dance provocatively against Miles, grinding to the pulsing beat of the music.

In the kitchen, Lewis observed the scene with a slight frown. "Does she have to be so…extra?"

Rorie rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her husband's protectiveness over his best friend. "Leave them be, babe. KiKi's just having fun." Abandoning the Mediterranean salad she was prepping, she wound her arms around Lewis's waist from behind. "Speaking of fun…have you checked on your wife lately?"

He turned in her embrace, eyes twinkling as his hands skimmed over her curves. "And how is my gorgeous girl feeling?"

"Mmm, can't complain," Rorie hummed. "But I still haven't taken that test yet."

"Rorie," Lewis groaned exaggeratedly. "The suspense is killing me! You gotta take that test." He stole a slice of cucumber from the salad bowl, grinning unrepentantly when she swatted his hand.

Their gazes drifted to the patio, where Andrew now held a giggling Lyric, the toddler's babbling laughter drifting through the open doors.

"Yeah, yeah...." Rorie murmured wistfully. "I hope he's going to be a good big brother."

Lewis brushed a kiss to her temple. "He might be a bit jealous at first, but he'll grow into it, you'll see."

"I had a good rehearsal with Lil Yachty yesterday for Austin," Rorie said, changing the subject. "Though I'll probably just keep it simple with the choreography."

"That's my wise wife," Lewis chuckled. "Oh, speaking of…I've got that tequila tasting in Mexico the day after tomorrow for Almave."

Rorie clicked her tongue in playful disapproval. "So you'll miss date night with the Biebers?"

"I'll make it up to you." Lewis backed her against the counter, his voice dropping an octave. "I promise…"

The searing trail of his kisses along her neck was interrupted by Spinz's pointed clearing of his throat from the doorway.

"The food's ready, you two. Save it for later, yeah?"

Grinning unabashedly, they reluctantly disentangled and headed outside, Rorie carrying the salad while Lewis grabbed plates and utensils.

As the group settled around the patio table, Lewis raised his glass. "To new adventures - hopefully with a little one on the way…"

He was met with hoots and hollers from their crew. Rorie beamed, shaking her head in mock annoyance at his antics.

"And to smoking out whoever's been playing games," she added, eyes narrowing slightly. "Because I'll personally beat their ass when we find them."

The group erupted into raucous laughter and dug into the spread of grilled meats and vegetables. Whatever storms awaited, they would weather them together - an unbreakable crew fortified by years of love, laughter, and unwavering loyalty.

__________________________________________

The morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains, rousing Rorie from her peaceful slumber. Before she could fully awaken, strong arms encircled her waist, pulling her back against Lewis's solid chest.

"Mmm, where do you think you're going?" he rumbled, voice still husky with sleep as his lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear.

Rorie couldn't stifle a breathy giggle. "Insatiable, aren't we?"

She turned in his embrace, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, but Lewis deepened the kiss hungrily, his eyebrows waggling with suggestive promise.

"Always for you."

A tiny cry from the nursery broke the heated moment. Rorie regretfully unlatched herself from her husband's roaming hands.

"Duty calls," she murmured apologetically, sliding out of bed.

"Tease…" Lewis whined playfully, whipping the covers off to reveal his morning wood with a roguish grin. "Come back to Daddy once you're finished."

Rorie chuckled, shaking her head in fond exasperation. "You're awful."

"Sometimes," was his nonchalant response. "Gotta make sure I put that baby in you."

"Boy, bye," she said as she rolled her eyes. Shrugging into a silk robe, she padded down the hall to Lyric's nursery. The toddler babbled excitedly as she lifted him from the crib, nuzzling his chubby cheeks.

"Good morning, little man."

"Hi Mama!" Lyric chirped, all bright-eyed innocence.

Downstairs, the faint sound of murmurs caught Rorie's ear as she settled Lyric into his high chair with a bottle. Peering out onto the patio, she spotted KiKi in an intense conversation on her phone.

"No…I'm not doing that anymore," KiKi hissed, her back stiff with tension. "I've had enough. Goodbye!"

Rorie's eyebrows shot up incredulously as KiKi spun around, nearly dropping her phone at the sight of her friend. A sickly sweet smile pasted itself across her face.

"Hey girl! Just dealing with some work drama…" KiKi blustered, waving a dismissive hand as she breezed back inside.

Rorie's brow furrowed skeptically. "Everything okay?"

"Oh yeah, totally!" KiKi replied a little too brightly. "Just a difficult customer, you know how it goes."

An uneasy prickle danced along Rorie's spine as recent events swirled in her mind. Shaking it off, she continued assembling a breakfast feast - mounds of fresh fruit, whole grain waffles, and tofu scramble for herself alongside Lyric's preferred avocado toast strips.

KiKi cleared her throat, clearly aiming to change the subject. "So…any thoughts on that test yet?"

Rorie paused, gripping the counter's edge tensely. "I don't know, Ki. Part of me wants to stay in blissful ignorance for now."

Her friend's eyes danced with both mirth and understanding. "Girl, you know that's not how it works. You gotta rip off that band-aid!"

Heaving a reluctant sigh, Rorie nodded. KiKi was right, as usual. She couldn't keep avoiding it. Just then, her phone began trilling shrilly from the other room. Rorie frowned, crossing the living area to retrieve it. The display showed Yael's name and headshot.

Answering with trepidation, she listened in growing disbelief as her image manager's anxious voice tumbled through the line.

"Rorie, you need to call your lawyer. The Sun is threatening to run another disgusting article - this time about your biological father's identity."

A bitter chuckle escaped Rorie's lips. So the rag was digging into her past yet again. She'd known the truth about her deadbeat sperm donor's identity since age twelve, his name the only paltry scrap of information her mother had given her.

"I'll look over the documents you forwarded," she assured Yael neutrally. "But I'm not concerned about that low-life's identity being made public. I've never known the man."

"I still think you should—"

A raucous clatter sounded from the kitchen, followed by Lyric's shrill giggles. Rorie's chest flooded with warmth, their call abruptly forgotten.

"Sorry, Yael but Mommy's messy boy needs me," she chuckled ruefully, hurrying back to the chaos and hanging up.

"He's such a messy eater," KiKi said with a half-smile, wiping at Lyric's face with a wet cloth. KiKi had Lyric halfway out of his high chair, his chubby limbs and cherubic face smeared with mashed avocado and fruit puree. Mother and friend shared an exasperated look as the toddler gurgled happily.

Rorie chuckled and scooped Lyric, peppering his sticky cheeks with kisses. "Oh yes, you are! Mommy's messy boy!" she cooed, causing Lyric to giggle and squirm. But then, reality intruded as Rorie glanced down at her son's soiled clothes. "Can you get him a change of clothes? I have to wipe him down," she asked KiKi.

"Of course, darling," KiKi replied, heading to the nursery. The air in Lyric’s nursery was thick with tension as KiKi entered, trying to maintain her composure despite the discomfort. Lewis was already there, his arms crossed and his expression guarded, as he paused unpacking his son's suitcase.

"Lewis," KiKi said, her voice clipped and formal.

"KiKi," Lewis replied, his tone just as cool.

They stood there for a moment, each sizing the other up, until KiKi finally broke the silence.

"Lyric had an accident so I need to get some clothes."

Lewis let out a long exhale as he walked to the chest of drawers and grabbed a onesie and a pair of shorts. He gave them to KiKi but kept his grasp on the clothes. "You've been acting weird since you got here. What's up?"

"I’m acting weird?" KiKi said, eyebrows furrowing. "Are you high or something?"

Lewis's expression hardened slightly as he released his grip on the clothes. "Just calling it as I’m seeing it."

KiKi felt a wave of anger wash over her at Lewis's accusation. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her cool.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice laced with frustration.

"I mean, ever since you got here, you've been acting like you're on edge," Lewis replied, his own tone sharp. "So I just want to know what’s going on."

KiKi's jaw tightened as she processed his words. "I don’t know if crashing too many times got your head permanently fucked up, but Aurora’s my best friend, okay? I know that we don’t see eye-to-eye and y’all are knee-deep in an impending lawsuit but I’m loyal to a fault. I would NEVER do anything to mess up Rorie or Lyric."

Upon hearing his wife and son’s names, Lewis's face relaxed. "Fine," he conceded, moving out of KiKi's way. "But I’m watching you. And if I find out you’re doing anything, best believe I’ll take everything from you and have your ass deep in lawsuits you’ll never get out of."

KiKi felt a mixture of anger and hurt at Lewis's words. She knew she had made mistakes in the past, but she had never intentionally tried to hurt anyone. And for him to accuse her of such malicious intentions felt like a low blow.

"Trust me, I don't need your threats to stay in line," she retorted, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm here to help my friend, not cause any trouble."

Lewis gave her a cold look before leaving the nursery. KiKi took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down before she did or said something that she would regret. She left the nursery and returned downstairs, uneasy about her encounter with Lewis. Returning to the kitchen, she spotted Rorie wiping off an unclothed Lyric in the sink. Rorie’s face lit up as soon as she saw KiKi.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said to her friend as KiKi handed her the new clothes.

KiKi nodded, returning Rorie's smile. "No problem, I'm just glad I could help." She glanced around the kitchen, noticing that it was a bit chaotic with dishes in the sink and food left out on the counter. "Do you want me to help clean up?"

Rorie shook her head. "No need, we have a maid who should be coming now, but thanks for offering." She turned her attention back to Lyric and gently dried him off before putting on his new onesie and shorts.

KiKi watched the exchange between mother and son, feeling a pang of envy in her heart. She had always dreamed of having a child of her own one day, but with her career constantly taking priority, she wasn't sure if that would ever happen.

As if sensing her thoughts, Rorie looked up at KiKi and gave her a sympathetic smile. "You'll find someone who loves you enough to start a family with," she said softly.

KiKi managed a small smile in return. She wasn't ready to open up about her struggles with relationships yet, especially since Rorie already had a lot going on. "Thanks, girl."

Two days later, the Crypto.com Arena buzzed with anticipation as the Lakers faced off against the Warriors in a preseason matchup. Rorie settled into her courtside seat next to Hailey Bieber, both women drawing appreciative glances from nearby fans.

"God, I needed this," Rorie sighed, sinking into the plush seat. "A night out without any mama duties."

Hailey grinned, nudging her friend playfully. "And how's that test situation going?"

Rorie groaned, rolling her eyes. "Not you too. I swear, between Lewis and KiKi, I'm about ready to scream."

"Hey, no judgment here," Hailey said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "But you know we're all rooting for you, right?" Hailey squeezed her friend's hand supportively.

Rorie groaned. "I know I should take that test, but… I don't know. Part of me is scared to know for sure."

"Because of how hard it was before Lyric?" Hailey guessed.

Rorie nodded. "Yeah. And I've been feeling off lately, but it could be anything, you know? Stress, my crazy schedule, whatever. I guess I'm in denial."

The roar of the crowd swelled as LeBron executed a flawless alley-oop, momentarily drowning out their conversation. Rorie found herself swept up in the excitement, her worries fading to the background as she cheered along with the rest of the arena.

As the game progressed, Rorie's phone buzzed insistently in her purse. She ignored it, determined to enjoy this rare night of freedom. But a nagging voice in the back of her mind wondered if it might be Nina, calling about Lyric.

During a timeout, Hailey leaned in close, her voice low. "So, what's the latest with that lawsuit against The Sun? Justin mentioned you guys were dealing with some heavy stuff."

Rorie's brow furrowed, a familiar unease settling in her stomach. "It's a mess, girl. They're digging into my past now, threatening to publish stuff about my biological father. As if I give a damn about that deadbeat."

"That's awful," Hailey sympathized. "How are you holding up?"

Rorie shrugged, her eyes fixed on the court. "I'm managing. It's just… exhausting, you know? And with everything else going on…"

She trailed off as the timeout ended, the thunderous applause once again filling the arena. Rorie's gaze drifted to the jumbotron, where she caught sight of herself and Hailey on the celebrity cam. They both laughed, striking exaggerated poses for the camera.

As the game entered its final quarter, Rorie found her mind wandering. The constant scrutiny of her personal life, the pressure of her career, the looming possibility of another child – it all swirled together in a dizzying whirlpool of emotion.

"Earth to Rorie," Hailey's voice cut through her reverie. "You good?"

Rorie said nothing, her silence speaking volumes.

Hailey raised an eyebrow, clearly concerned. "Okay, spill. What's really going on?"

Rorie hesitated, then sighed. "It's just… everything. The lawsuit, the baby stuff, and now KiKi's been acting weird. I don't know, maybe I'm just paranoid."

"Weird how?" Hailey pressed gently.

"I overheard her on the phone the other day, sounding all secretive. And Lewis swears something's up with her." Rorie shook her head. "I want to believe she'd never do anything to hurt us, but…"

The final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the preseason game. As they stood to leave, Rorie's phone buzzed again. This time, she fished it out, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Yael's name on the screen.

"Everything okay?" Hailey asked, concern evident in her voice.

Rorie hesitated, then shook her head. "It's fine. Just some work stuff. Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

As they made their way through the throng of departing fans, Rorie couldn't shake the feeling that something was brewing on the horizon. Whether it was the potential pregnancy, KiKi's strange behavior, or this latest message from Yael, she couldn't be sure. But one thing was certain – the calm before the storm was coming to an end.

"Hey," Hailey said softly, linking her arm through Rorie's. "Whatever's going on, you know you've got us, right? Me, Justin, your whole crew – we've got your back."

Rorie managed a genuine smile, feeling a rush of gratitude for her friend. "I know. Thanks, babe."

____________________________________________________

As Rorie drove home, her mind drifted to her upcoming show with Lil Yachty. She dialed his number, a smile spreading across her face as he picked up.

"Lil' Boat!" she exclaimed cheerfully.

Yachty's laughter filled the car. "Hey there, Ror-Ror! How's my sis?"

They chatted animatedly about their upcoming performance, bouncing ideas off each other and sharing their excitement. When Rorie turned onto her street, however, her good mood evaporated. A swarm of paparazzi clogged the road, their cameras flashing incessantly.

At first, she assumed they were there for one of her celebrity neighbors. But as she inched closer to her house, her stomach dropped. The mob was camped out in front of her own property.

"Oh hell no!" she shouted, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"What's the matter?" Yachty's concerned voice came through the speakers.

"I'll call you back," Rorie said tersely, ending the call.

Police officers were struggling to keep the paparazzi at bay. As soon as they spotted Rorie's car, the crowd surged forward, shouting questions and snapping photos.

"Rorie! How do you feel about The Sun's article on your mother's affair?" "Did you know about your father before this?" "What's your reaction to your father wanting a relationship?"

The cacophony was overwhelming. Rorie kept her eyes straight ahead as the police cleared a path for her to reach her garage. She parked quickly and practically ran into the house, her heart pounding.

She found Yael, Penni, and Lewis deep in conversation in the living room. They all looked up as she entered, their faces grim.

"What's going on?" Rorie demanded, her voice shaky.

Yael stepped forward. "Did you see my texts?"

"No," Rorie replied, looking to Lewis. "What's happening?"

Lewis sighed heavily before speaking. "The Sun published an article about your biological father."

Rorie shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "So what? I don't care if they know who he is. He was never part of my life anyway."

The others exchanged uneasy glances, which didn't escape Rorie's notice.

"What?" she pressed. "Why is it such a big deal?"

Lewis took a deep breath. "Your biological father… he did an interview with Piers Morgan. He's claiming your mother kept you away from him, and now he wants a relationship with you."

"That's bullshit!" Rorie exploded.

Yael jumped in. "That might be true, but the public doesn't know that. Worse, his wife was in the interview too. She said they were separated when he had the affair with your mom, and now she wants to meet you and Lyric. They're portraying themselves as victims and… well, they're putting all the blame on your mother."

Rorie felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "Has anyone talked to my mom?"

"We all have," Lewis said softly. "I just got off the phone with her before you arrived."

Rorie reached for her phone. "I need to call her."

Yael and Penni stepped forward, gently restraining her. "Wait," Penni said. "We're putting together a statement with evidence to counter their claims."

"We're also preparing another cease and desist letter for The Sun," Yael added. "And we're working on getting a gag order for your father and his family."

"My father," Rorie spat the word like it was poison, laughing bitterly. "And now he wants to play daddy? After all these years?"

Deemed the Black Bill Gates, Martin Edwards III is a real estate magnate and investor who cared only for himself. He never loved her mother - she was just a poor maid who got caught up in his web of lies. Of course, her mother should've never gotten involved with a married man, but Martin failed to claim Rorie as one of his children. He even had the gall to demand her mother get an abortion.

The room fell silent, the weight of the situation hanging heavily in the air. Rorie felt a mix of anger, confusion, and hurt swirling inside her. She'd spent her whole life not caring about her poor excuse of a sperm donor, and now he was threatening to upend everything.

"What do we do now?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain.

Lewis wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "We fight back, babe. We protect our family and we tell our truth. That's all we can do."

Rorie nodded against his chest, drawing strength from his embrace. Whatever storm was coming, she knew she had her real family – the ones who'd always been there – by her side. And that, she realized, was worth more than any long-lost father's claims could ever be.

The oppressive Texas heat shimmered off the tarmac as Lewis Hamilton's sleek Mercedes-AMG pulled into the Circuit of the Americas. The sprawling track, with its iconic observation tower in the distance, buzzed with the frenetic energy of Formula 1 media day. Pit crews scurried about, the air filled with the cacophony of revving engines and the chatter of eager fans and journalists.

Lewis took a deep breath, steeling himself for the day ahead. He glanced in the rearview mirror, catching sight of Lyric's cherubic face in the car seat behind him. The toddler was blissfully unaware of the chaos around their family, his tiny fingers playing with a toy race car.

As Lewis opened the car door, the wall of heat hit him in full force. He rounded the vehicle, opening the back door to unbuckle Lyric from his car seat. "Come on, little man," he murmured, lifting his son and perching him securely on his hip. Lewis hiked the diaper bag higher on his other shoulder, adjusting his designer sunglasses as he surveyed the paddock area.

His bodyguard moved ahead, creating a path through the throng of people. "Some space, please," the guard requested firmly but politely. Fans pressed forward, waving items for autographs, while photographers' cameras clicked in rapid succession.

Lewis approached the paddock entrance, shifting Lyric slightly to free up a hand. He fished out his ID card, swiping it through the turnstile with practiced ease. The familiar beep and click signaled his official arrival for the day.

As he made his way through the paddock to the Mercedes garage, Lewis nodded to his crew members, his mind racing with thoughts of Rorie. She'd been so sick lately – more than just the usual pre-performance jitters. The constant nausea, her heightened sense of smell, the fatigue that seemed to cling to her... All signs pointed to pregnancy, but Rorie steadfastly refused to take a test. Lewis understood her hesitation, remembering the heartache they'd endured before Lyric, but he couldn't help the glimmer of hope that sparked in his chest. The upcoming Austin City Limits festival loomed large in his mind. Despite everything, Rorie was still determined to perform. He felt a surge of pride thinking about her resilience, her talent; and wanted nothing more than to see her conquer the world stage, to watch her dreams unfold even as they navigated this storm together.

His phone buzzed with a notification - the flowers he'd sent to Rorie's mother had been delivered. A small gesture, but one he hoped would bring some comfort. The media circus surrounding Rorie's biological father had been relentless. He'd done everything he could to shield his family – hiring additional security, considering legal action against some of the more aggressive paparazzi, and even arranging for Rorie's mother, stepfather, and sister to be relocated temporarily to their home in Denver.

Lewis's jaw set with determination. The Sun's underhanded tactics, and the sudden appearance of Rorie's biological father - it all fueled a fire within him. He was committed to bringing down the tabloid, to make them pay for the pain they'd caused his family. The lawsuit proceedings were set to begin next month, and Lewis was ready for battle. The support from their friends had been overwhelming. Just that morning, he'd received messages of encouragement from the Biebers, Beyoncé and Jay-Z, and Rihanna. Their united front against the media onslaught was a testament to the bonds they'd forged over the years.

Lewis spotted Nina, their nanny, making her way through the garage. He felt a mix of relief and reluctance as he prepared to hand Lyric over. Part of him wanted to keep his son close, a tangible reminder of what truly mattered amidst the craziness of race day and ongoing personal drama.

"Lewis," Rosa approached. "The press conference is in ten minutes."

Lewis nodded, giving Lyric a final squeeze before passing him to Nina. "Be good for Nina, okay?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to his son's forehead.

Lewis made his way towards the press conference area, his mind racing with thoughts of Rorie and the impending media onslaught. He knew the questions wouldn't just be about the upcoming race or his strategies for the circuit. The recent revelations about Rorie's biological father had become fodder for gossip columns and social media speculation.

As he walked, he nodded to a few fellow drivers - Valterri gave him a supportive pat on the back, while Charles offered a quiet "All's good?" Lewis appreciated their discretion and support, a stark contrast to the rabid curiosity of the waiting press.

_____________________________________________

Once the press conference was finished, which thankfully focused more on the upcoming race than personal matters, Lewis found himself surrounded by his fellow drivers.

"Hey, Lewis," Pierre called out, a grin on his face. "Is it true Rorie's performing at Austin City Limits tonight?"

Lewis nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yeah, she is. You guys planning to come?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Pierre replied enthusiastically. Several other drivers chimed in with their interest as well.

Lewis spent the next hour with Lyric, cherishing the quiet moments with his son, and when he was about to head to get lunch, Toto approached.

"Lewis, can you come to my office for a moment?" Toto's expression was unreadable.

Handing Lyric back to Nina and Rosa, Lewis followed Toto, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. As they entered the office, Lewis froze. Sitting there, looking far too comfortable, was Martin Edwards - Rorie's biological father.

Lewis's jaw clenched. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

Toto held up his hands. "He requested to speak with you. I thought it best to provide a neutral and private space."

Reluctantly, Lewis took a seat across from Martin, his posture rigid.

Martin leaned forward, a smile plastered on his face. "That boy of yours, Lyric - he's the spitting image of you. That's really your seed. Can't deny that baby even if you wanted to," he chuckled as if he'd said something hilarious.

Lewis remained stoic, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. "What do you want, Martin? Haven't you fucked up enough?"

Martin's smile faded slightly. "I want to make things right. I've missed out on so much of Aurora's life—"

"Rorie," Lewis corrected sharply. "She goes by Rorie."

Martin nodded, continuing, "Rorie, then. I want to be a part of her life, of my grandson's life."

Lewis's voice was low and controlled. "You had years to be a part of Rorie's life. You chose not to be. And now, what? You think you can just waltz in because it's convenient for you?"

"I made mistakes," Martin admitted. "But I want to fix them. Surely you can understand that, as a father yourself?"

Lewis felt a surge of anger. "As a father, I understand being there for your child, no matter what. Something you know nothing about."

The tension in the room was palpable. Toto shifted uncomfortably, clearly regretting his decision to facilitate this meeting.

"Look," Martin said, his tone changing to one of barely concealed frustration, "I have rights. I'm her father—"

"No," Lewis cut him off, standing up. "You're the man who contributed DNA. I'm her family. We're her family. And we'll do whatever it takes to protect her and Lyric from this circus you've created."

With that, Lewis turned to leave. As he reached the door, he paused, looking back at Martin. "If you really care about Rorie, you'll respect her wishes. And right now, she doesn't want anything to do with you."

Leaving Martin and a stunned Toto behind, Lewis strode out of the office, his mind already racing with plans to further shield his family from whatever Martin Edwards seemed determined to bring.

That motherfucker had another thing coming if he thought he was getting close to my family. Nigga going to end up meeting nothing more than the barrel of my gun if he keeps fucking around.

For the rest of the day, Lewis shifted his focus away from what occurred in Toto's office, ultimately deciding against mentioning the impromptu meeting with Martin. Rorie was already stressed for a myriad of reasons, and Lewis would be damned if he brought more bad news to her. His wife needed to focus on her performance - nothing more, nothing less. He'd handle everything else.

That was what a husband and father did - properly lead his family and protect them, which wasn't something Martin knew anything about. An intrusive thought wondered how Martin could just weasel his way into speaking with Toto and demanding a meeting with him, but then Lewis remembered how having obscene amounts of money could always provide access to certain people.

His phone rang and Rorie's smiling face lit up the screen.

"Hey, babe," he answered.

"Hey," Rorie replied. There was a pause before she continued, "Is everything okay? You sound... off."

Lewis hesitated for a moment before responding, "Just race stuff, you know how it is. Nothing to worry about."

"Mm-hmm," Rorie hummed, not entirely convinced. "Can you bring home something sweet and salty when you're done?"

Lewis let out a laugh, the tension from earlier melting away.

"What's so funny?" Rorie asked, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.

"Nothing, nothing," Lewis chuckled. "It's just... the last time you asked for this exact combination, you were pregnant with Lyric. Still in denial, are we?"

Rorie huffed. "I just want that, okay? Don't make it a big deal."

"Alright, alright," Lewis conceded, grinning. "I'll bring something back for you. And you know what? I'll grab a pregnancy test too, so we can stop fucking around and know for sure."

"Whatever," Rorie grumbled, but Lewis could hear the smile in her voice.

"Love you too, babe," Lewis said, his tone softening. "I'll see you soon."

As the call ended, Lewis pocketed his phone, a mix of emotions swirling within him. The day's events - from the press conference to the unexpected encounter with Martin - seemed to fade into the background. What mattered now was Rorie, their family, and the possibilities that lay ahead.

Lewis glanced at his watch, mentally calculating how long it would take to wrap up his duties at the track, find Rorie's requested snacks, and make it back to the hotel. He had a pregnant wife to take care of - whether she was ready to admit it or not.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over Zilker Park, Rorie stood backstage at Austin City Limits, her heart racing. The air was thick with anticipation, the distant roar of the crowd washing over her like waves. Lil Yachty's energetic performance was coming to a close, his last song echoing through the night.

Rorie closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to calm her churning stomach. She'd barely kept down her dinner, a combination of nerves and what she stubbornly refused to acknowledge might be morning sickness. The thought of pregnancy flitted through her mind again, reminding her that she had a test to take after the show, but she pushed it aside.

Focus, she told herself. The show comes first.

She silently thanked the universe for the unwavering support of her husband, friends, and family. Their love had been her anchor in the stormy seas of recent events.

The crowd's cheers swelled as Lil Yachty addressed them, his voice booming through the speakers. "Y'all ready for something special?" The response was deafening. "DJ, hit it!"

The opening beats of "The Zone" began to pulse through the air. Lil Yachty started his verse, the crowd singing along. Then, he paused, his voice filled with excitement. "Now, give a warm Austin welcome to the one, the only… Rorie!"

Taking a final deep breath, Rorie stepped out from behind the curtain. The sea of faces before her erupted in screams and applause. The energy was electric, palpable.

As she began to sing, her rich voice filling the night air, Rorie's eyes scanned the crowd. In the VIP section, she immediately spotted Lewis, his proud smile visible even from a distance. Beside him were Yael, Pierre, Charles, Valtteri, and Susie, all cheering her on.

"I never meant to make you feel alone," she sang, her voice carrying emotion with every word. "A non-chivalrous tone you've used since I got home. I feel wrong, deep down inside, I'm stoned. I feel cold and alone."

The lyrics seemed to take on a new meaning, reflecting the turmoil of recent weeks. But as she continued, Rorie felt a surge of strength.

"But now I know that you love me (Love me). Will you put anyone above me? Let me know, is this home?"

As she sang the last line, her eyes locked with Lewis's. In that moment, despite the thousands of people surrounding them, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. This was home, she realized. Not a place, but the people who stood by her through everything.

The music swelled, and Rorie threw herself fully into the performance, letting the rhythm and the energy of the crowd wash away her worries, if only for this magical moment under the Austin stars.

As the last notes of "The Zone" faded, the crowd's enthusiasm remained at fever pitch. Lil Yachty engaged with the audience, asking if they wanted to hear more. The resounding cheers and screams made the answer clear.

Rorie glanced back at the VIP section, catching Lewis's eye as he recorded the entire performance on his phone. The crowd began chanting her name, the sound washing over her in waves of adoration and support. Overwhelmed with emotion, Rorie felt tears prick at her eyes.

"You hearing this, Ror? They love you!" he shouted over the noise.

Rorie nodded, visibly moved. "This is incredible," she managed to say.

Lil Yachty addressed the audience. "Y'all want more from Rorie?" The answering roar was deafening. "Alright, alright!" Lil Yachty laughed. "Let's give them what they want, big sis!"

The opening chords of "Running Out of Time" began to play, eliciting another round of cheers from the audience. Rorie and Lil Yachty's voices blended beautifully, the lyrics touching on themes of time, connection, and staying together. The audience swayed and sang along, clearly familiar with the song.

When the performance ended, Rorie took a deep bow, her heart pounding with adrenaline and emotion. She lingered for a moment offstage, basking in the continued chants of her name from the adoring crowd.

Later, as she relaxed with Lewis and their group, enjoying the rest of the festival, everyone showered her with hugs and praise.

"That was incredible, Rorie!" Pierre exclaimed, giving her a warm hug.

Lewis pulled her close, kissing her with an intensity that made their friends playfully protest.

"Get a room, you two!" Charles laughed, shaking his head.

Lewis grinned, his eyes never leaving Rorie's face. "I'm just incredibly proud of my wife," he said, his voice full of love and admiration.

As the night wound down, Lewis and Rorie found themselves in the back of a car, heading back to their hotel. Lewis's hand rested on Rorie's thigh, his brown eyes fixed on her face.

"What?" Rorie asked, noticing his intense gaze. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Because I love you, baby," Lewis replied softly. "I love you so much."

Rorie smiled, her heart swelling. "I love you too, Pookie."

Lewis leaned in closer, his voice low. "And knowing that you might be carrying another seed…fuck Rorie, you don't even know what's in store when we get back."

Rorie giggled at his enthusiasm. He could be such a dirty freak at times. "Lewis, we don't know if I'm—"

"You are," he interrupted gently. "I can smell it."

"Oh? And what does that smell like, Lewis?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief and love. "Smells like a woman strengthening my bloodline."

"Goodness, you sound like such a caveman," she teased, but his words only heightened her arousal.

"But you like that shit," he murmured, pulling her closer for a deep, loving kiss.

And do.

Lewis wasted no time in carrying Rorie inside the bedroom once they arrived at their hotel. He set her down on the bed and began undressing her slowly, taking in every inch of her body.

His lips trailed down her neck and onto her chest, Rorie let out a soft moan and arched into him, craving more of his touch. He knew every sensitive spot on her body, and it drove her wild with desire. Lewis moved lower, planting kisses on her stomach until he reached the apex of her thighs. His hands firmly held onto her hips as he teased her with delicate licks and flicks of his tongue.

Rorie's breath hitched as she felt herself becoming wetter with each passing moment. She reached down to tangle her fingers in Lewis's braids, urging him on. "Oooh baby, don't stop."

With a wicked gleam in his eye, Lewis obliged and began sucking on Rorie's clit, sending waves of pleasure through her entire body. Her moans grew louder as she neared climax, and she couldn't hold back any longer.

"Fuck!" Lewis’s tongue soon brought Rorie to an explosive orgasm that left her panting and trembling beneath him.

"Mmm, you taste so good," he murmured.

Rorie came down from her high, and Lewis crawled up her body to kiss her deeply. She could taste herself on his lips, and it only turned her on even more.

"I want you inside me," she whispered against his lips.

Lewis groaned and quickly positioned himself between her legs. Rorie wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he slid into her in one smooth thrust.

They moved together in perfect rhythm. It wasn't just about the physical pleasure for them; it was about the deep connection they shared. With each movement, they were both expressing their love and desire for each other.

Rorie ran her hands over Lewis's back, feeling the muscles flex beneath her touch. She loved how strong and powerful he was, yet how gentle and attentive he could be with her.

Their lovemaking became more intense as they both approached their release. Rorie cried out Lewis's name as she came once again, and he followed soon after with a deep grunt of satisfaction.

They collapsed onto the bed in a tangled mess of limbs and sweaty skin. Lewis rolled onto his side to face Rorie, pulling her close to him. As they cuddled in each other's arms, Rorie couldn't help but think about the possibility of being pregnant again. She knew Lewis would be overjoyed at the news, but she couldn't shake off the slight fear and anxiety that crept into her mind.

"Are you okay?" Lewis asked softly, sensing something was bothering her.

"I…I'm just thinking about what might happen if I am pregnant," Rorie admitted hesitantly.

Lewis's expression softened as he cupped her face in his hands. "Hey, whatever happens, we'll handle it together. We've been through so much already and have come out stronger."

Rorie's heart swelled with love for this man who always knew exactly what to say to comfort her. "I know…I just don't want to disappoint you if I'm not pregnant."

Lewis shook his head and pressed a gentle kiss on Rorie's forehead. "You could never disappoint me, baby. Our love is so much more than having another child."

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, feeling grateful for their love. "We should just take the test," she said firmly.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, let's just get it over with." Rorie stood up abruptly and walked to the bathroom. The pregnancy test was sitting on the counter, and with trembling hands, she unwrapped it and followed the instructions carefully.

She then nervously paced around the bathroom as Lewis watched intently, waiting anxiously for the results. As the timer beeped, Rorie's heart raced in anticipation. She closed her eyes and prayed for a positive result.

Slowly opening her eyes, she looked down at the test and saw two distinct lines. A wave of emotions washed over her as she realized that she was indeed pregnant.

Tears of joy streamed down Rorie's face as she stepped out of the bathroom to show Lewis. He immediately wrapped her in his arms, knowing without words what the result was.

"We're going to have another baby," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and happiness.

Rorie nodded, unable to speak through her tears. They held each other in silence for a few moments before Lewis pulled back to look at Rorie's face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

"I'm just so happy," she managed to say before kissing him passionately.

The California sun hung low in the sky as the woman drove toward a discreet restaurant nestled off the Malibu coast. The sleek, modern lines of the Hamilton's mansion were barely visible from the road, obscured by sprawling trees and winding driveways. The ocean’s rhythmic crash played in the background, but all that resonated in the woman’s mind was the bitter truth she clutched like a weapon.

The restaurant’s parking lot was mostly empty, save for a lone car parked in a shadowed corner. The woman’s heeled boots crunched over loose gravel as she approached. The maid, nondescript and dressed in plain clothes, glanced up from where she leaned against the car’s door. Her eyes were wary, darting around as though expecting to see someone lurking.

"You’re late," the maid muttered, shifting nervously.

"Traffic," the woman replied, dismissively. "Do you have what I need?"

The maid hesitated before producing a small USB drive. She handed it over with trembling fingers. "I can’t be seen doing this. If Rorie finds out…"

"She won’t," the woman interjected sharply. "You just keep your head down and play your role. If she suspects anything, you’re done. But right now, I’m your best bet for protection."

The maid swallowed hard, clearly torn. "Why are you even doing this? Rorie has been good to me...she treats my kids like her own."

The woman’s expression darkened. "You think kindness and loyalty matter to people like her? She uses them as currency to keep you close until you’re no longer valuable. Believe me, I know better than anyone. And if you want any fucking help getting your husband to Los Angeles, you shut your goddamn mouth, okay?"

Silence fell between them as the reality of their situation settled in. Eventually, the maid nodded, wiping her palms nervously against her jeans. "Okay, but be careful. This game you’re playing—people get hurt."

The woman tucked the USB into her jacket pocket and turned on her heel. "People always get hurt. It’s just a question of who gets hurt first."

As she walked away, the wind picked up, rustling through the palm trees and carrying the distant hum of approaching cars. The maid stayed put, watching the woman disappear into her car before driving off like a bat out of hell.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

[thewalrusespublicist]

So didn't realise that people didn't know about the John Lennon 1980 'dear one' thing. As we're all here though I wanted to mention that the phrase 'my dear one' potentially has a bit of a story arc when it comes to John's relationship with Paul. For those familiar with British English, 'my dear one' sticks out as it's not a used term of endearment at all. So where does it come from? It could be a non-straightforward Victorian throwback, but more likely its hearkening to the use of the phrase in Eastern meditation to denote your nearest and dearest. Great, already off to a sweet start (and lines up with Yoko having Paul on the next-of-kin list with Julian and Mimi when John died).

It POTENTIALLY gets a bit more layered than that though once you add in the idea of hugging meditation. Contrary to what Paul says (sorry Paul, I do believe you on most things, just not this) despite being 'Northern men' TM the Beatles were a huggy bunch. John mentions it in the 1967 Hunter Davies interview:

''We used to be embarrassed about touching each other. We’d do an elaborate handshake just to hide the embarrassment… or we did mad dances. Then we got to hugging each other. Now we do the Buddhist bit… arms around. It’s just saying hello, that’s all.''

As pointed out in @thecoleopterawithana and @monkberries amazing posts, the Buddhist bit is hugging meditation which became popular in the 1960s. In hugging meditation, you

''have to make him or her very real in your arms, not just for the sake of appearances, patting him on the back to pretend you are there, but breathing consciously and hugging with all your body, spirit, and heart. Hugging meditation is a practice of mindfulness. “Breathing in, I know my dear one is in my arms, alive. Breathing out, she is so precious to me.”''

We know physical touch was important to John. One of the plusses of being with Yoko was being affectionate with his best friend, he tells Paul that touching is good whilst hugging him and in the Get Back sessions he delightedly asks Paul about a vivid dream where he was touching Paul (whether platonic or romantic this always read to me as a blatant subconscious desire for increased intimacy with Paul). The desire for intimacy is still present in the 'Real Life/Love' demo in 1977 where John muses about holding a mysterious has-a-baby-expecting-another-lives-on-a-farm someone in his arms as if it was only yesterday (another piece of media I still cannot believe we have on tape).

With John's evident desire for physical intimacy in mind and the focus on holding dear ones in hugging meditation, I don't think it's too far to think that John would associate this term of endearment with a certain level of both physical and emotional intimacy. Whether its a slightly bittersweet ironic recollection of those times together in the late 60s or a sincere statement of their current relationship, Paul as his dear one could be seen as continuation of John's suppressed, resentful but ultimately present desire for reignited intimacy with Paul on multiple levels (again romantic? Platonic? Choose-your-own-adventure there, I'm not in charge of you).

Or I could be talking shit. Who knows? It's just fun to think about!

[vaguely-concerned]

patented 'not that I care that much or anything so there's no need to dwell on it too too much ahaha *sweats nervously* but tain would you pls consider not murdering my mom (and the mother of your child) for absolutely no reason whatsoever? no pressure tho of course you know best! :)' smile

(it's so dark but also so funny that when tain keeps on Hinting Ominously, garak's reaction seems... slightly exasperated? more than anything, under all the tension fsdjafsl. this exact conversation has definitely happened multiple times over the last thirty years, lending horror an edge of 'oh this again huh' ennui and hilarity. 'I should have killed your mother before you were born'/'so you've told me, many times'. I think it's the turnaround time from 'I've missed you, Elim' to this that drives it from straightforward psychological horror sneaking dread to still that but also kind of hilarious. it really took tain less than five minutes to go there didn't it. wow. well, actually. I think maybe the real horror part is that garak still loves him and doesn't know how to stop. somewhere in there is a five year old whose heart is a desperate stupid little moth and his father is a ruinous forest fire in the night, brighter and closer than any star. of course it burns you to touch it that's just what love is, right. *spots a smiling julian bashir in the loading bay holding a box of chocolates out of the corner of his mind and experiences something harrowing and existential he simply cannot unpack right in this moment thank you* right???)

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Drabbles of MC reflecting M6's love language or doing things for their beloved that their beloved does for them?

So like, carving wood figures for Muriel and getting him new tools when his wear down too much, getting Nadia thoughtful gifts that she would appreciate, spending time with Portia and Asra, and I think Julian and Lucio would love big dramatic displays of love

The Arcana HCs: Reflecting M6's love languages

Julian

Oh. Oh my. Be still, his rapidly beating heart (he really needs to cut back on the caffeine, but at least half of this is genuinely because of you) You're giving him affection?? In the best possible way???

You're fussing over his physical wellbeing when he's had a long day and helping him wind down?

You're playing music for him or telling him a story from your past?

By far your best stunt was when you decided to visit his clinic while it was closing to surprise him with a picnic dinner date

The front door was locked when you got there, so you decided to go through the back instead with the spare key he put in your bag a while back and completely forgot about ...

On your way through the back room, you spotted some of the spare uniforms and decided to throw on one of the coats and masks (as one does) to better surprise him

The surprised fumble, dramatic "en guarde!", and theatrical flourish with his own doctor's coat that you got when you surprised him was so typical of your first meeting that you fell apart laughing

The picnic on the docks afterwards where you reminisced on your (very successful) relationship so far was delightful

Asra

Oh, they're not used to this, and it's making them feel safe and loved and grounded in ways they don't know how to handle

You're offering constant reassuring physical touch, but leaving it up to him to accept it/only going ahead if he says yes first?

You're going out of your way to make safe, comfy spaces for them to take quick catnaps and breaks from the world and bringing them tea when they're deep in thought?

You're constantly bringing home things that reminded you of him and finding new niche experiences to treat him to?

They are turning into a puddle. They are melting through the floor. If this keeps up there will be water in their eyes and there is never water in their eyes -

It's not that he's incapable of accepting love, it's that he's become accustomed to carrying so incredibly much of it for you and expecting nothing in return, finding his reward in your happiness

But now it's like you're turning it all back on them and the connection they already feel with you is vibrant and alive in ways they never dreamed of experiencing

He can't help it, he is returning every single gesture no matter what

Nadia

This is a little hard to pull off, at first, given how much of Nadia's love language shows up in the way she uses her vast resources to pamper you and make you feel special and important

Unlike her, you have about as much money as you need to live comfortably in the apartment above your shop. You don't have enough to commission seven gold owls in her honor

However, what's quickly obvious about her gifts isn't how much money she put into them, it's how closely she noticed your little wants and went out of her way to meet them

And now you can do the same

Keeping a small heating surface and teapot in her suite so you can have her favorite brew hot and fresh when she wakes up

Stitching a pouch of soothing, memory and focus boosting herbs onto a decorative scarf for her to use between meetings

Tending to Chandra for a little while every day so she doesn't have to worry about her familiar going neglected for very long

Introducing her to the glorious (though not very fashionable) concept of long underwear for the chillier Vesuvian months

You doing this without making her feel small is what she loves

Muriel

... help

This is so, so strange to him, he has no point of reference for this and therefore little to no means to control how he reacts

You noticed how he likes to take care of the charms around the hut and repaired one for him when it was starting to fall apart?

You spent hours sitting next to him quietly until he found the words for his troubles, and then listened to him??

You even learned how to embroider so you could start putting together a new tapestry of the life you're building with him???

What nearly breaks him is when you start to cook dinners for him when he already has a habit of cooking breakfast

Sure, having a life where food is consistent is something he doesn't take for granted, and he's held onto the value of it long enough to make sure anyone who stays a while gets something (eggs)

But now it's a whole new level of safety and care where he can trust that neither of you are going to bed on an empty stomach, and he doesn't even have to worry about there being enough

If you start carving little companions for the wooden animals he's made and set them up like they're snuggling he'll implode

Portia

Is she used to receiving affection? Yes. She's a fairly well-adjusted adult with unmatched people skills, her friend group and social network are vast and she rarely goes forgotten

Is she used to being somebody's first affection recipient? ... not so much, no. She's the person who gets called up after her important people have called up their most important people

So to be your most important person ... that's new

She's hearing something from you before you've told anyone else?

You're not deciding on whether to attend an event until you know if she's going? She's the person you look at when you find something beautiful or funny because you want to see her reaction first?

And let's not even get in to the ways you praise the efforts that usually go unnoticed or the work you've put into knowing her

Not only do you check in on how she's feeling, you don't even need her to tell you half the time. You can read it on her face

And you don't act like it's below you to support her when she's so used to supporting others. You even bring her lunch so she eats!

There's always plenty of affection when she's around, but to be noticed and known and important - that matters to her most

Lucio

Just. Be proud of him? (yes, he's grown enough to know that that's a big ask, depending on the situation -)

His instinctive way to show you how much he loves you is to make a big deal out of you and what you mean to him. Bragging about what a good person you are, what a happy life you have, etc

But if you do the same for him? After years of knowing (even though he wouldn't admit it) that he wasn't necessarily someone whose fondness people would be especially proud of?

Man, you make being a good person sound amazing

If you brag about his swordmanship and survival instincts to other journeymen in a tavern after a finished job, he'll stare at you with stars in his eyes. If you call him handsome, he'll melt

Don't even get started on the massive boost to his security if you show him off. You ask him to give you a flourish while he's trying on a new red cape and compliment it to the vendor?

He'll be thinking about it all day (he might walk into a tree)

He remembers being a source of social discomfort for his ex-wife (and worse, his mother's shame for raising him poorly) but the moment you loudly call him yours it gets just a little bit lighter

[honimello]

Instant Crush//Possum Kingdom

Stalker!Cardinal Copia x Sister of Sin!Reader

Summary: He’s been watching you for so long, he can’t wait any longer. He has to have you. (Loosely inspired by the songs Instant Crush by Daft Punk ft. Julian Casablancas, and Possum Kingdom by the Toadies.)

Words: 4,955

Warnings: NSFW 18+, DLDR; Dead Dove‼️intense voyuerism, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, dubious consent/noncon, copia is an unreliable narrator, innocence kink, outcast/evil copia x popular reader slightly cliche, PiV, masturbation, severe stockholm syndrome, mention of lactation

A/N: I don’t know if I would say this is the most intense fic out there but i think it would still be good to put the dead dove do not eat warning on here lol also thought of the ministry having catacombs like halfway through the fic and now i can’t stop thinking about how cool that would be lol

——

“And we will never be alone again… Kinda counted on you being a friend, can I give it up or give it away?” // “Make up your mind, and I’ll promise you I will treat you well, my sweet angel.”

He doesn’t know how it got to this point. The Cardinal can just barely see himself in the reflection of the window pane in front of him, but how can he focus on his own practically-drooling visage when he can watch what’s on the other side of the glass?

Copia knows he shouldn’t watch, but he can’t really help it anymore. He really doesn’t know how it got to this point, watching you bent over your bed with an undeserving Brother of Sin. It would make his blood boil if he didn’t love the sight of it so much. You look so beautiful like this, ass pressed up against this rugged Brother, your sweet little face scrunched up in pleasure. Oh, if only it were him making you feel like that. He’s just glad someone’s doing it, even if it’s not him. At least he gets to watch.

Copia’s cock begins to tent his cassock just a little more as a muffled moan of yours floats through the cracked window sill. How divine, he thinks, why would such an angel spend their time in a pit of demons? This was the fourth Sibling you’d been with this week, and he just can’t seem to wrap his head around it. You’re such a sweet little thing, and they are always so dirty.

His train of thought is cut short when he realizes your big, innocent eyes are locked on his own. He can feel his heart sink all the way to his feet. You look scared. Yet, you don’t say anything to your partner, just continue to stare into his lustful, depraved gaze. He can’t quite tell what sort of expression is on your face other than shock and fear, but there’s something else indistinguishable mingled in there. It’s not until you arch your back and your eyes roll back into your skull that he knows— arousal is hot in your gaze and it’s bringing you over the edge.

It’s like watching a tsunami, or, more relevantly, an angel fall to earth. It’s breathtaking in so many different ways. He can’t help it when his cock twitches, his cassock becoming unbearably sticky. You’re just so beautiful like this, he doesn’t even need to touch himself.

Copia watches on as your partner cleans only himself up and leaves you on the bed with a halfhearted promise to return at a later date, but you couldn’t care less. How long had he been watching you now? The Cardinal tries to recall when this all started.

You were new to the Ministry but had quickly become a sort of people’s princess. Everyone loved you, especially Copia. You had enchanted him with your big eyes and sweet demeanor. Although, it was never directed towards him, he was quite used to this and hadn’t expected any sort of kindness from you. He knew he didn’t deserve it. He had spent his whole life manipulating and fighting his way to where he was now, but soon he wouldn’t be just a Cardinal anymore.

People knew to tread carefully with him, they thought him disgusting and frightful. A part of him was glad for this, it made his job easier. There was a reason everyone called him the Rat and it wasn’t because of his defined nose. If someone were in his way, he wouldn’t hesitate to ruin their lives to come out on top. He’s a liar, a snitch, a traitor, a backstabber, a Brutus, a Judas, if you will.

Ah, yes. Now he remembers. It was fall, he had just finished teaching his Latin class. He was locking up the class room, the night sky shining down on him from a nearby window. A chill ran through his spine. He could hear you, you’re short heels clicked on the linoleum in a strange and specific way that was unique to you. He had been casually watching you in the past week of you being there, any time he found himself in your presence he couldn’t look away.

And here you were, you had stopped in your tracks the second you noticed him. He could practically smell the fear on you, so as he turned to face you, he tried to keep a neutral expression. Even then he knew he didn’t want to scare you, not like how he scares the others. No, he wanted to scare you in a different way. A way that makes you clench your thighs together and beg for release.

“Hello, Sorella.” He said, watching you carefully. You were stiff, like maybe just the sight of him alone had turned you into a statue. He looked off to the side, where he presumed you were heading to. “Ah, on your way to my fratello, eh?”

Terzo’s office was just down the hall from his, and of course a beautiful Sister of Sin like you would visit him late into the night. He saw you fidget where you stood, you stared at your shoes in fear of meeting his eyes. Your voice came out wavering and hushed.

“N-no, il mio Cardinalé. I was on my way to see you.” Your voice was so soft he almost thought he misheard you for a second, but no, oh no, he hadn’t. Now he’s nervous. What could you possibly want to do with him? He was afraid if he thought too much about it he might pitch a tent in his very revealing, tight pants. Seemingly, to spare him, you continued. “Sister Imperator gave me some paperwork she meant to give you in the meeting this morning. She said it was important.”

You held out the stack of papers with a shaking hand, and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing his gloved fingers against yours as he took it from you. Your eyes were so wide, staring up at him with such fear and reverence. And even after he thanked you and you had walked away, he stood in the hallway dreaming of that look.

Yes, this was when he had started following you. From this point on he couldn’t stand it when you were out of his sight, he had to know where you were and who was giving you the pleasure you deserved. So, as he snapped out of his daydream in the hall, he stalked off into the Ministry corridors.

The Cardinal did his best to stay quiet as he caught glimpses of you turning corners and weaving in between the Ministry’s ornate marble pillars. He followed you into the dorm wing, hesitating just around the corner so he could take note of which door you entered. The butterflies in his belly became more and more present as he realized just how lucky he was. Your room was at the very end of the hall, directly next to an exit, and he knew for a fact that there was a window peering into your room.

He exited the wing, and came face to face with what would soon become a sort of second home to him. A bench directly under the window to your room. Copia cupped his hands around his eyes as he pressed his forehead into the window, trying his best to see into the room with how dark it was. A breeze racked its way through his body, but he warmed up fast when he saw you exit from your bathroom.

Steam spilled from the little room, you had started a shower. His heart began to race, you were grabbing a robe from your dresser. Were you about to?— Oh, yes. Yes, you were. You had pulled your habit right over your head after removing your wimple, the vision in front of him could only be likened to holiness. A beautiful angel, clad in dark lace and nylon. You bent forward, presenting your full ass to him, you rolled down your stockings and pulled them off your legs.

The mirror on your dresser gave him the perfect view of your front as well. It sent a jolt of terror through him though, when he had noticed the window reflected perfectly in the mirror, but it seemed your curtains hid him from view. He heaved a sigh, watching as your hands skimmed over your tits, plucking each bra strap and letting them snap back against your skin. He could see the little flinch you made each time you did it, it had him twitching in his pants.

Finally, you slid the straps off your shoulders and reached behind you to unlatch the bra entirely. It fell to the floor unceremoniously, giving him a full view of your chest. And what a view it was, his hand skimmed its way down to his crotch, palming at his hot erection. Your breasts were soft and caught the beautiful glow of the candle on your dresser like an oil painting.

He didn’t have much time to admire you before your hands made their way down to your panties, playing with the band resting on your full hips. You slid them down your legs, bending over once more. Your cunt was slick and glistening in the candlelight. He started to drool. He hadn’t felt lust like this in quite some time, his work had taken the forefront of his attention. But now? You were the only thing he could think of, work wasn’t even a thought anymore.

You slinked off into the bathroom, finished undressing, and he wondered if you would touch yourself in the shower. He wished there was a window in there too.

That night, as he lay in his bed, wet cock in hand, he imagined what it would be like to touch you, to shower with you.

And even as he sits outside your window now, he still wonders what it would be like to give you the pleasure he so desperately wants to give you. Watching you with your little toys and your inconsistent partners can only satiate him so much.

You lay in your bed, covers pulled all the way up to your nose, still staring at him. You look so enticing. He’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself anymore. A couple weeks ago he had found a way to unlock the window from the outside. He had taken his fair share of your dirty panties from your hamper, and now… Now he wanted to take something else.

His lithe hand creeps down to where he knows the window is cracked open, the latch never quite closed fully, and if he could wiggle his finger underneath he could push the latch off completely. So, he did. The expression on your face makes him hard again, the squish of the cum staining his cassock is barely a thought to him with how strained his cock is once more. He sees tears well up against your long eyelashes.

He starts to shush you, trying to comfort you as he slowly slides the window up. He bends his head down, and slinks into your room. Soon, Copia is standing next to your bed. You haven’t moved an inch, though the tears have slid down your plump cheeks. He doesn’t know what to say, he wants you to feel better. He wants you to come back with him to his chambers. He wants you all to himself.

Only now does he realize he’s said this aloud. This snaps you out of your paralysis and you lunge for the door to your dorm. He’s much bigger than you though, and he’s caught you within seconds of your attempt. He presses your naked body close to him, you try to claw at his arms and scream but his thick hand has clamped over your mouth.

“Shh, shh, angioletto mio… You don’t need your little playthings anymore, bravetta, you have me now.” He presses his lips against your ear and whispers to you, pressing sporadic little kisses to the shell of your ear in between his words. “Shh, shh…”

Copia rubs his face into your soft hair, his voice rumbling like a cat. You continue to try and wiggle your way out, but he just slowly pulls you down to the ground, arms encasing your entire upper torso in a tight grip. He’s finally caught you and he’s not letting you go.

He continues to shush you, his voice a mix of comforting and terrifying. He gently presses you down into the floor, your body now lain flat, face pressed into the ground.

“Don’t move, little one. Your Cardinalé needs to do something.”

Your heart plummets to your stomach at the insinuation, but thankfully, he steps away from you and walks over to your dresser. You think of making another break for the door, but you know he would just catch you again so you decide to play the obedient role for now. He appreciates this as he pulls two long, thick ribbons from your dresser drawer. He had seen you play with another Sibling with these before and he had fantasized about them since.

Now, he can finally use them on you, like he has a wanted for quite some time now. He stalks back over to your body, straddling your hips and trying not to think of how good it feels for your plush ass to be pressed up against his balls. His fingers wrap around each of your wrists and he binds you with the red ribbon. It’s tight and inescapable. He moves down your legs and does the same with your ankles.

As he goes to stand above you, your little voice stops him in his tracks.

“C-Cardinalé?” Oh, the waver in your voice makes him feral. He’s so glad he could give you such a beautiful tremor. He hopes he’s riling you up just as much as you are to him.

“Sí, bravetta?”

“…”

You squirm under him, the sight of your breasts squished up against the floor is driving him insane. What soft nipples, he thinks, if only I had the time to worship them now. He nudges your hip with the tip of his dress shoe, urging you to continue as he’s sure he only has so much time to get you back to his chambers.

“I-I’m so scared, il mio Cardinalé.” Copia kneels back down, carding his fingers through your hair as he presses up against you once again. He gently lays kisses on your shoulder, his mustache tickling your skin.

“Oh, piccolo angialetto mio, there’s no need to be afraid. Shh, just relax now…” His hand rustles around in his cassock for a few seconds, making your blood run cold, but he pulls out a thick leather strap and fastens it against your mouth, effectively muffling any sound that may come out.

He pulls you off the floor, and carries you bridal style out of your room and through the exit he knew so well.

The entrance to the Ministry’s catacombs was a little bit into the edge of the woods near the gardens, not far from where your room had been. Sister Imperator had given him the long-abandoned chamber within the catacombs when he had become a bishop. The last tenant used to care for the burial sights down there, but after his death the entirety of the catacombs has been left untouched.

Sister had offered Copia an upgrade within the upper clergy chamber hall but he had declined, he’s grown fond of the stench of death.

So, as he pushes the large wooden doors open with his back, he encourages you to close your eyes. Many of the coffins and effigies were open or broken apart, and he would hate for you to see something so grotesque. He wants you calm and comfortable down here.

He traverses the old stone steps down into the ground, the old torches had been updated to be electric, the fuzzy warm light has always looked so cozy to him. Even as it reflects off the cold, stone walls. His chambers are down a few more twists and turns, you try to memorize them but it quickly becomes hard to remember. It dawns on you that maybe only the Cardinal knows how to traverse these caverns.

Copia comes at a stop in front of a large, heavy door, he sets you down gently on the freezing stone floor to unlock it with a skeleton key. He pushes it open far enough that he can carry you through safely.

There’s a large, extravagant bed in the middle of the room. All the furniture in the room seems to be Victorian, and of the same set. It looks much more comfortable than the rest of the catacombs. He strides over to the bed and lays you down on the soft covers, turning back to the door to lock it.

Copia watches as your chest rises and falls rapidly, the realization that you’re completely alone with him now dawns on you both. You’re trapped, he could do whatever he wanted now. He could do everything he’s dreamed of. But first, he has to make sure you really can’t escape. He had bought a collar and leash quite some time ago when he had first had the idea to bring you here.

The sight of it makes you wail, though the sound is muffled by leather. As he leans forward to fasten the collar, you try to scoot away but it’s not enough. He has you collared within the next second, and he slides his fingers down the chain leash, pulling it up to the bed post closest to you. He wraps it around the post and locks it in place.

“Hm… There. How does that feel, piccolo angialetto mio?” He unties the leather strap from your mouth, letting all the little gasping sounds you’ve been making float through the still air of his chambers.

“P-please, please, Cardinalé, please, let me go.” You beg, hyperventilating and whimpering. He’s a little disappointed in you, such a sweet, obedient thing and yet you can’t answer a simple question? Maybe he needs to ask it again.

His gloved hand sidles up against your throat. He gives it an experimental little squeeze making your eyes widen in fear. His gaze is like looking into the sun: wide, bright, and burning. He never looks away for a second.

“I said. How. Does. It. Feel?”

You know you have to answer him.

“I-it…It’s okay, Cardinalé… It doesn’t hurt.” You pray to Lucifer that that’s what he wants to hear. It seems it is, as his hand loosens its grip and slowly, softly, slides down your clavicle and ghosts over your breasts. His eyes are wild and deranged, you can see spit gathering against his bottom lip as he ogles your chest. His fingertip traces the shape of your breast, then comes back up to gently rub your nipple. Guilt and shame burns in your belly as a little involuntary moan escapes your throat.

His eyes snap up to yours… He liked that. You can see the urgency in his face, he wants you to do it again. His fingers circle your nipple once more, and it’s so sensitive. Your cunt isn’t on your side, it’s slick and aching. You bite your lip to hold back any other sound that may sneak out. It seems he likes this just as much.

Copia leans even closer to you, his lips ghosting over the skin of your tit. His mustache tickles as he hovers just over your stiff nipple. The tip of his tongue inches out, grazing against your areola. His spit is hot and dries cold, making you shiver in the warm light of his chambers. What is wrong with you? How could you possibly be turned on by this right now?

You had noticed how he was always around, always hanging on your every word even if they weren’t being said to him. You had wondered if he truly was watching you, and tonight you had finally seen him. But it didn’t scare you as much as you thought it would. In fact, it had driven you mad. The sight of him drooling and humping the air as he watched you getting railed, it had done things to you. It made the cock in your pussy almost redundant as you spasmed and creamed all over it.

The thought of having Copia’s cock to cum on flashes in your mind, doing nothing to stop you from giving in to him. His mismatched eyes look up at you reverently, he starts to suck gently on your tit, letting out little whimpers and moans as he does so. His hand trails down your belly, on a certain path to your flushed and pulsing clit.

Any effort to refuse him has gone out the window, you have no idea how long you’re going to be here with him. It would do you no good to pretend you don’t like it as much as he does. Moans spill from your lips as his gloved fingertip gently presses against your clit. He draws little circles on the hot bud, making it twitch and pulse. You whisper his name in poorly contained ecstasy.

He shushes you once more in a placating gesture, his hot tongue laving over your nipple. You’ve had many partners over the years, but none of them felt like this. His hot mouth is what you imagine Hell must be like for the most devout of Satanists.

He continues his ministrations, vaguely wondering if he could get you to lactate if he treats your teat kind enough. He trails his tongue over to your other nipple to give it some much needed attention, and his cock jumps when you let out an airy gasp, your bound arms twitching in place. He suddenly realizes then that you’re still tied up at the wrists and ankles and a wave a guilt washes over him.

“Oh, piccolina, I’m sorry. Let me free you.” He pulls his mouth away from your tit, making you whine in protest. He sneaks his hand under your body, untying the ribbon as fast as he can and turning down to your ankles to untie that ribbon as well. It feels good to spread your arms out next to you and let your legs fall open for your Cardinal.

“What a beautiful girl.” He whispers in praise, his hand sliding back in between your legs. Your fingers toy with the grucifix hanging from his chest as he plays with your clit once more, suddenly it doesn’t feel so fair that you’re naked and he’s not.

“Copia?” You whisper breathlessly, catching his attention immediately. He mindlessly rubs your clit as he faces you with a quizzical expression.

“Sí, bravetta?” His voice has grown husky and his right pupil is blown wide while the other stays the same as it always does. He looks worried, like he’s done something wrong which feels morbidly ironic to you and you can’t help but let out a quiet giggle.

“Will you undress, il mio Cardinalé? I want to see you.” Your desperate voice betrays your neediness, and he looks almost smug at how well he’s riled you up. He barely has any room in his head for any insecure thoughts that crop up, his only thought being to make you happy. So, he pulls his hand away once more, though to start unbuttoning his cassock now.

He gets it about midway to his belly before he starts to pull it off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. What greets you is freckled shoulders and hairy pecs hidden by a white tank top, and his signature tight, red pants.

His cock looks huge straining against the fabric, it makes your mouth water in anticipation. There’s a little wet spot where you assume the tip is, and it somehow makes you even slicker than before. His nimble fingers start to undo his pants, pulling out the tucked in tank top and tossing it over his head. With his pants fully unbuttoned, he takes a glance at you and sees that you’re transfixed. It looks as if you’ve been put under a spell, watching intently as he fumbles around to try and pull his pants down and off his legs.

His dick is even more pronounced in the tight black briefs he wears, it looks about as thick as your wrist and as long as your belly button to your clit. He looks at you hesitantly, like he’s not sure if you truly want to see all of him but there’s nothing more you want in this moment, not even escape.

He pulls the gloves off his hands, finger by finger, drawing it out as much as possible. Just so he can drink in the desperate look on your face, he knows he won’t have much resolve to tease you once it starts. His newly bare fingers slip down his pudgy, fuzzy belly and hook under the band of his briefs. He strains the band and lets it snap against his skin like he’d seen you do with your bra straps, and he watches intently as you let little gasps out each time he does it.

Copia pulls the band down, revealing his bush with every slow inch. The sight of the base of his cock takes your breath away, and soon enough the entire thing has flopped out and smacked against his belly. It’s monstrous. You want it like nothing else. It suits him.

He crawls over you and straddles you then pulls your legs around his hips, letting the tip of his flushed cock rest ever so gently against your throbbing clit. You whine and squirm, gripping the covers below you and he tuts gently.

“Patience, piccolina.” He warns, but both of you know there’s no real danger behind it. This is better than anything he could’ve imagined, why would he get upset with you for being just as eager as he is?

His cock catches against your aching hole as he tries to rub your clit with it and it makes you both gasp. He lets out a drawn out moan as the tip pushes gently against your cunt, it pops and slides in about an inch and he can’t seem to catch his breath. It’s been so long it feels like it’s the first time, and maybe it should be because no one has ever been like you. Sí, he thinks, this’ll be my new first time.

Just his tip sits nestled in your heat and it starts to make you feel fuzzy and needy, you start to whisper incoherent pleas. He knows what you need but he needs to take this in just for a few seconds longer, so he brings his thumb up to rub against your clit. You’re both moaning like desperate whores, and he can’t help the whimpers that fall from his lips whenever he feels you clench down on him.

He starts to slide in further, you’re so wet it feels like there’s no resistance at all. It feels like home to him, like this is where he really belongs. Here with you, in you and around you. He falls forward to rest on his elbows above you. His hips start to rock gently against you, pushing in further and further with each thrust.

“I-I love you, angialetto mio.” He whispers against your lips, pressing kiss after kiss on them. “I have loved you for so long.”

“I know, Cardinalé… Mmm, yes, just like that.” You groan as the head of his cock starts to nudge against that spot inside of you, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. “I-I… Oh, Copia, I love you too.”

You don’t know what’s come over you. You’re not in the right headspace, you never would’ve said that before. But maybe that’s okay, you think, maybe this is where I’m meant to be. You pull him closer, pressing your chests together and kissing him deeper. His tongue asks entrance into your mouth and you let it, you explore each others tongues as he fucks into you faster.

The sound of your wet bodies slapping against each other and the moans let out between breaths is the only thing that can be heard in the chambers, and as he continues to pick up speed and depth it feels like you just might scream. He’s hitting all the right places, rubbing all the right spots and your eyes roll back into your head. His face is scrunched up in concentration and pleasure, his sweat dripping down onto your own sweaty skin.

“Oh, bravetta, I’m so close.” He whimpers pathetically and he brings his hand back down to rub tight circles on your clit once more, aiming to push you over the edge with him.

“Yes! Yes! Copia, please!” You’re almost there too, your breathing is short and fast as your heart thumps in your chest, your clit throbbing. His thumb nudges the very tip of your clit and that’s what does it. It feels like molten lava has spilled over you from your head to your toes as he grunts loud and jerks his hips forward once, twice, and a third final time as he unloads deep inside you. Your walls spasm around his thick cock in ecstasy and soon enough the reality of the situation starts to set in.

You don’t know how long you lay there silently gazing off but when you come back, Copia has cleaned you both up and wrapped you up in the covers. He is gazing at you lovingly and it makes you sick to your stomach. There’s no getting out of here is there?

You wait til he falls asleep to cry.

“Now I thought about what I wanna say, but I never really know where to go. So, I chained myself to a friend.” // “Give it up to me, give it up to me. Do you wanna be my angel?”

——

[macabremayhem]

"– People are obsessed with love, looking for it and not getting what they really need. Fragile, stupid creatures. You consider love as a magical tool that can change the world and then you go around in circles. But your eyes are clouded with illusions. You think: if this love didn’t give me what I need, it is not "real". You are fascinated by the myth of true love. You think it would last for the rest of your life, understanding and healing everything. But love is just a myth.

Ilya looked up, his lips trembling.

– What am I looking for? I don’t really know, Quaestor Valdemar. But I know that you are... incapable of love. I know this and I have come to you willingly.

Quaestor is answered:

– You came to the sacrificial fire. Frankly, I’m impressed by your deep, desperate masochism. It’s attractive – how can predator be attracted to the easy prey. You came to me because you can no longer look for something in people – something they want too and can’t give you. A kind of the truth. However, perhaps you intuitively tried to give it to them.

You understand what I am. You’re not making any illusions about my personality. You’ve seen what I can do. Others have deceived you. But you still hope. Dum spiro, spero is your unfailing credo.

Valdemar went quiet for a while and then added, looking into Julian’s eyes:

– And like all men, you still worship love as a god. Funny. But… Nec deus intersit."

Text: Lunatic Sun

Art:

Sketch: chilledoutbeast

Colouring: wasteofplace

previous fragment:

[avatar-anna]

The Haircut

just a little (long) blurb about the new haircut! part of the young!dadrry universe, which can be found on my masterlist

enjoy!!

“Hey, Mama?”

“Yeah, H?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

“So, why did you want me to cut your hair? I thought Jeff asked you about it before we left London.”

Harry tried not to move much because his hair was between Y/n’s fingers as she snipped away. “He did.”

“And you didn’t get it done beforehand because...”

“I like when you do it,” he said simply.

Y/n didn’t bother hiding her blush. During lockdown, she took on the mantle of keeping Harry and the rest of the Styles family groomed. Afterwards, Harry went back to getting his hair styled professionally, but she thought him asking her to do it was sweet.

“Your fans are gonna riot,” she said, running a hand through his hair to find the next strand to trim. “Not to mention your children.”

Harry’s fans weren’t the only ones who loved his longer hair. Each one of their kids, from Simone all the way down to little Natalia, loved their dad’s hair, gripping a piece of it in their tiny fists whenever he held one of them in his arms.

He merely shrugged, as much as he could with Y/n still cutting his hair. “I feel like it puts me in the right mindset for a show.”

Y/n and Harry sat in silence after that; she had a feeling he was enjoying having her full attention, a rare occurrence now that they had six children.

Six. Some days Y/n still had a hard time wrapping her head around it. They started their family when they were so young—just teenagers—and now Simone was ten years old.

But the decision to expand their family wasn’t made until Harry and Y/n were older, after Harry wasn’t in One Direction anymore, and the rules weren’t so strict, and they felt like they were ready to take care of another baby—as ready as anyone can be, anyway.

So then came Collette, and then the twins, Julian and Maeve, shortly after. Y/n was sure that four children was plenty, had told Harry she would go back on birth control again when she found the time. He pouted, but agreed, especially since they were now raising two infants at the same time instead of just one. But then lockdown happened, and Harry was around a whole lot more than he normally was, and Geneva was the result. Their last child, Natalia, also came as a surprise, though no one but Harry and Y/n thought so. But she was the perfect addition to their family, and Harry and Y/n couldn’t have been happier.

“Are you all coming tomorrow night?” Harry asked, breaking the silence.

Y/n had moved to face Harry in order to get some of the pieces right at his hairline. “It’s a school night, my love, remember? But we’ll be there Friday.”

Harry nodded, understanding, though Y/n knew he loved when all of his babies watched him perform. Now that Simone and Collette were old enough to be in school, Y/n and the kids couldn’t travel with Harry unless it was during summer or winter break. They’d had lots of discussions about homeschooling so the family could be together more, but ultimately decided their children needed as much of a normal upbringing as possible, and honestly, homeschool would just mean more work for Y/n when she was already juggling so much.

“Can you call the sitter?” he asked.

Frowning a little, Y/n paused what she was doing and tipped her husband’s chin up with a finger. She could sense there was something he was thinking about, but wasn’t saying. “What’s wrong?”

Harry met her gaze, his hair now short and cleared away from his face. Y/n wouldn’t lie, she loved when his hair was on the longer side too, but she did think this haircut suited him as well.

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Nothing’s wrong. I just like when you’re there. You missed the entire last leg of the tour. And I know why, but I just miss having you, all of you, around.”

“I know. We miss you too, H,” Y/n sighed, her heart squeezing at the look on her husband’s face.

Harry was quick to pull her into his lap, content to wait before finishing up his haircut. He tipped forward until his nose was pressed against her chest and breathed in deeply, and Y/n held him tightly.

She knew why he was so down without him having to express himself fully. Since Simone was a baby, he always became anxious about leaving for long periods of time, and the next leg of his tour was booked out for the next few months. It was a long time, especially when young kids were involved.

Raising a family while Harry traveled the world wasn’t easy. There were of course the good moments where Harry was able to spend time with Y/n and the kids, using old tactics to sneak around and find someplace private while they spent the day together. And Y/n loved seeing the world too. She loved seeing Harry perform and point him out to Collette or Maeve or Julian as he danced onstage. “That’s your Dadda,” she would say, helping them dance or clap along to the music.

And so things slowly went back to normal, or perhaps better than normal. They were with life at home and learning the delicate balance their family operated on. He loved music and performing, but all of that could wait.

But then of course there were the more difficult moments, where Y/n and the kids had to stay home while Harry toured. There were arguments about missing recitals and games and whether those tacked on extra nights on tour were really worth it when Y/n felt like she was raising their kids by herself. “I had dreams of my own, you know,” she said once. She regretted it immediately, especially when she would never change her life for a moment. But it had to be said. Y/n felt like she was on an island by herself while her husband travelled all over the world on huge tours. And when he was home, he was working on new music. Things were supposed to be different after One Direction. Harry promised that life would be different, but they weren't, and Y/n was going to keep putting up with it.

Harry came home from tour and more harsh words were shared. He tried to convince her that he could fix everything, but she was way past believing in him, and then they were both alone. Harry eventually came home, determined to make things right. He felt like a part of him would always be making up for letting his family down. Y/n tried to tell him that wasn't necessary anymore, especially when she became pregnant again because she wouldn't be having her fifth child with him if she didn't believe in him, but he wouldn’t hear it. “We’re a team,” he’d said. “We’ve always been a team. Letting you down will always be my greatest regret. I’m sorry.”

But things were a little different now. Half their children were older and Natalia wasn’t even walking yet, though all of them needed stability. With just one look at Harry, Y/n knew what was bothering him.

“You’re a great dad, H.”

And since they were as alone as they could be raising six kids, Harry felt comfortable to shake his head against her. Y/n continued to hold him, letting him get out whatever he needed to.

“I—I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home, my own family.”

There were times where Harry would come home from a long tour stretch and Geneva or Maeve or Julian wouldn’t like to be held by him. Because to them, as infants, he was unfamiliar. It killed Harry, the realization that he’d been gone too long that his own children would cry when he picked them up or look at him without an ounce of recognition. It was why shortly after his first tour as a solo artist he decided to take a break from touring and making music. The fight with Y/n was part of it, but at the end of the day, Harry just wanted to be a dad, and wanted to give Y/n a chance to pursue a career after being a full time stay at home mom for so many years. He had been so used to One Direction’s style of working in the industry, which was to say that you never stopped. But it put a strain on his relationships then, and it was doing the same thing as a new solo artist. He wanted a different life, a different approach to his passion, so he decided to slow down, focus on being a dad and a partner. It was how Y/n eventually went back to school and picked up styling hair.

She saw all of it written on Harry’s face, all the insecurity and fear. Each one plaguing him despite how proud she was of his success as an artist and a father. He didn’t give himself enough credit, not nearly enough. Their family had this life because of him.

“I’ll figure something out,” Y/n promised, kissing his forehead.

Harry shook his head, the ends of his hair tickling her nose. “You don’t have to, Mama. I know school is—”

“Family is important too,” she said, knowing what he had been about to say.

He nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

Y/n kissed him once on the lips before standing up again. School would be out soon, and Geneva and Natalia would be waking up from their naps any minute now. As usual, Y/n would pick up while Harry took care of the little ones, as the knowledge of the Styles family remained a secret all these years. Some people knew, of course. The first time the secret had unintentionally been revealed being when Simone gave a report about her family tree, and her teacher called Y/n in for a meeting to tell her that her daughter believed her dad was a world famous musician. That was quite the parent-teacher conference, but she and Harry handled it. So teachers and administration knew, and NDAs were handed out left and right to protect the children’s privacy, but it was easier for Y/n to pick up the kids from school as opposed to Harry.

“And...There! All done.”

Y/n handed a mirror to Harry so he could inspect her handiwork. She’d seen his hair done enough that she knew what he liked, but she opted for something ever so slightly different, leaving a little more hair on the top so it would curl on his forehead some. She thought it framed his face better than when he pushed it back.

“I look younger,” he said, eyes still on the handheld mirror.

“You look handsome,” Y/n replied. “Or you will once you shave that thing off your lip.”

That definitely got his attention. “Hey.”

“I’m kidding,” Y/n teased. She kissed him on the cheek. “Kind of.”

“Come here,” Harry demanded.

He grabbed ahold of his wife’s waist before kissing her all over. His stubble scratched her neck, her jaw, her cheeks, as Harry moved around, planting loud, opened-mouthed kisses everywhere he could.

Y/n shrieked and giggled, trying to push away from him, but to no avail. “Harry! Ha—”

A cry sounded from the baby monitor sitting on the coffee table. Geneva. Harry and Y/n paused, waiting to see if she would turn over and go back to sleep or if she was truly awake.

Another cry, followed by a different one from another monitor.

“I’ll get Natalia,” Y/n said, and this time Harry let her go.

“GiGi,” Harry replied.

Like a team breaking from a huddle, they went to their daughters’ rooms to bring an end to the crying and met back downstairs to change and feed them. By now, Y/n and Harry were practically a well-oiled machine. They moved around each other to fill bottles and strap the girls into high chairs, and finished with singing‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ when Geneva showed signs that she was about to cry. It was a system that worked for many years when they were at home together, and one that was perfected during lockdown. Before long, Geneva was sucking on a pouch while Natalia slowly brought yogurt chips to her mouth.

Harry raised his arm up, and Y/n met him halfway for the high five. Distance or no, they always made a good team.

Once the girls were fed, Y/n began getting ready to pick up the rest of their children. Harry kept the girls entertained, but she felt his eyes track her throughout the kitchen. Once she was done, she went over to him and gave him a kiss.

“How about we go to the venue for rehearsal, stay for the opening act and the first couple songs, and then I’ll take the kids home early,” she said against his hair, rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

“Really?”

She kissed his cheek. “I told you I would figure something out.”

Harry grinned down at her. “You always do.”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Later that night, the Styles residence was filled with its usual commotion.

“I want Elsa!”

“We watched Frozen last week!”

“Elsa!”

“Mama, can we have chocolate?”

“I want to sit next to Daddy!”

“Move over!”

Harry tipped his head back against the couch and prayed for patience.

He thought a movie would be a fun way to end the night, and while he wasn’t sure why Y/n gave him a look of caution before, he certainly did now. His wife, of course, was upstairs putting Geneva and Natalia to bed while he got the movie set up, though now he guessed Y/n was letting him deal with all the chaos while she hid.

But Harry didn’t particularly care. He loved being home and being part of all the craziness, even the silly fights over what movie they were going to watch.

Julian, the only boy in the Styles family, sat in his father’s lap quietly, almost like he was just waiting for Simone and Maeve to stop fighting over what they were going to watch. His hair was long and curled at the ends, a result of him crying and screaming every time Y/n tried to take him to get his hair cut or do it herself. So they eventually gave up and let Jules grow it out.

“What do you want to watch?” Harry asked his son.

Julian shrugged and curled himself against Harry’s chest. It seemed he was content to just be with his dad, and Harry couldn’t help but agree.

However, when Maeve tried to rip the remote out of Simone’s hands, Harry finally stepped in.

“Alright. Saturday we’ll watch Elsa. Tonight we’ll let Simone pick. Come here, Maeve.”

Maeve was a spitfire like her mother, loud where Jules was quiet. He never imagined a preschooler to be so opinionated, but she always had something to say.

Giving up, Maeve took the spot on Harry’s right. Collette was on his left, tracing the tattoos on his arm absentmindedly. Simone finally settled on a movie, and by some kind of miracle, the house went quiet as the opening credits rolled.

He hadn’t been doing a typical tour recently, which helped him be at home more, but being at home was almost as exhausting as being on the road. He watched the cartoon with Julian on his chest, Maeve and Collette on either side of him, but before long, his eyes began to droop, each blink becoming more prolonged than the last until he didn’t open them again.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Y/n came downstairs once GiGi and Natalia were fast asleep. She had lunches to pack and breast milk to pump before tucking the rest of her little ones into bed, but it wouldn’t take too long.

Half expecting utter chaos, Y/n’s eyes widened at the scene in front of her. Harry was fast asleep, and so was Julian, who rested on top of him, one hand up by his dad’s neck like he was reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore. Maeve dozed beside Harry, and Collette was getting close. Simone was the only one wide awake and watching the movie, her choice by the looks of it.

Y/n went over to her oldest and kissed the top of her dark hair. “How long has everyone been out?”

“Dad lasted about twenty minutes, I think.”

“A record for him,” Y/n mused.

Simone grinned wide. Seeing how long Harry lasted during a movie was something of an ongoing joke between them, and Y/n liked to think her oldest daughter liked that they shared something that was just between the two of them.

“Will you help me get Maeve upstairs?”

Nodding, Simone paused her movie and took her sister into her arms while Y/n grabbed Collette. She took Julian up next, tucking him into his racecar bed before turning on his night light and closing the door. Harry was still out cold when Y/n came back down, but Simone was at his side while she resumed the movie.

By the time the movie ended, Y/n was wrapping up in the kitchen and Harry was stretching his arms after his impromptu nap. Blinking with bleary eyes, he said, “Sorry, bug. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Simone grinned over the top of his head at her mom, who shot her daughter a wink. “That’s okay.”

Harry looked between his two girls like he was missing something, but didn’t comment on it. “Come on. Up to bed then.”

Simone kissed her dad on the cheek, then skipped over to Y/n to do the same to her before going upstairs, leaving Harry and Y/n alone in the dark.

Looking around, Harry realized all of his children had gone to bed at some point. “I swear we have more than one kid.”

“They’re all fast asleep.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well then,” Harry said, his voice low after being asleep. “Might need to take advantage of this rare moment to ourselves.”

Y/n sat herself down on his lap and ran a hand through his short hair. “You know, I can’t help but agree.”

There wasn’t much talking after that. Harry was quick to capture Y/n’s bottom lip between his own, pulling her as close as she could possibly be. Y/n kissed him back, sighing as he brushed his tongue against hers again and again. She kneaded the muscles in his shoulders, gripping hard when a hand dipped beneath the waistband of her jeans.

“Love you,” Harry panted, kissing the spot where her jaw met her ear.

“Love—”

Y/n couldn’t get the words out fast enough before he was on her again, pushing her into the couch until she was spread across it.

They didn’t take it much further than that. Y/n knew Harry was too tired for more, but she didn’t mind. Sometimes kissing and touching took her back to a time when they were younger and only had one baby to look after. It made her realize that even after all these years, they were still crazy for each other.

Eventually tiredness won out, and they went upstairs, though Harry kissed Y/n’s neck the whole way to their room. It stopped, however, when they entered their bedroom and he realized they weren’t alone anymore.

“My money’s on Jules,” Harry said softly.

“Could be Collette,” Y/n countered.

They crept into the room towards the bed, and upon closer inspection, they realized Harry was right. Julian was asleep on Y/n’s side of the bed, his stuffed Mickey Mouse tucked under one arm.

Shrugging, they went about their nightly routines and got into bed. Harry kissed his wife once mumbling, “Love you, Mama,” before setting his head down on the pillow.

When Harry woke up, there were three more children in his bed, one of them on top of him completely. An excellent start to his morning, if you asked him.

[wren-of-the-woods]

Hello! Thank you so much for what you do- could I please have some recs for geraskier fics where geralt is the one pining harder?

Here you go!! I wasn't sure how to categorize who was pining harder in all of these (since our boys are masters of longing lol) but these are all stories where Geralt loves Jaskier very much, and I highly enjoyed them all!

~

favorite by @asweetprologue (Rated G, 5.8k)

Jaskier gets Geralt a gift, and it makes Geralt realize he doesn't know enough about what Jaskier likes. He forms a plan to figure it out.

i’ll kiss you slow by @paintedcrayons (Rated T, 4.9k)

Geralt is not being creepy. He’s not. He’s just looking out for his friend (with a questionable choices in lovers). Lately, Geralt has started to notice the way people treat Jaskier’s affection like a means to an end. They kiss him only to move to the next step, dance with him as pretense to get him into their beds. He would like nothing more than to kiss Jaskier for the sake of it. (He does.)

time and time again by @samstree (Rated G, 5.2k)

Marriage proposals, through the years.

The Best Laid Plans by @dhwty-writes (Rated T, 5.5k)

Geralt is in love with Jaskier. In order to finally get him to admit his feelings, he devises a ten step plan with Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir.

A Friend in the Wild by @samstree (Rated G, 1.6k)

In which Geralt acquires a tiny friend who wouldn't stop following him.

Weak and Wanting by @sociallyawkward--fics (Rated T, 36k)

Geralt had thought that inviting Jaskier to Kaer Morhen after all these years would be a good thing. What he didn't plan on was his brothers deciding to have a little fun with their situation. Lambert and Eskel really needed to stop meddling in things they didn't understand, especially when it came to his bard.

Tell It With Your Heart by @bambirex (Rated G, 2.5k)

While Jaskier always says what's on his mind, Geralt works a little differently. That doesn't mean he cannot tell Jaskier how he feels - he just does that without words.

Repeat After Me by @onwardorange (Rated G, 7.3k)

All it takes is (nearly) three years, two meddlesome brothers, and one exasperated sorceress to get Geralt to admit his feelings for Jaskier.

Love Me Better, Send A Letter by @rebrandedbard (Rated T, 12.5k)

Geralt and Julian have been exchanging letters since participating in an inter-school pen pal program in high school, and Geralt has been pining away for Julian for over a decade since meeting by chance one faithful day in Posada. Between work and Ciri, he hasn't had much time for travelling, but he and Julian still exchange their letters faithfully. Finally, Julian's equally busy life coincides with Geralt's long enough for a short visit, and Geralt has the chance to finally introduce Ciri to the man she knows only on paper. Things would be perfect ... if Julian's visit didn't fall within the week of the concert of Ciri's favorite musician, Jaskier.

Music is no solution by @thecrownprincessbride (Rated T, 4.3k)

Jaskier has self-doubts, and Geralt is there for him.

A Careless Omission by @samstree (Rated T, 5.4k)

Jaskier reveals he has a type. Geralt behaves strangely.

Highway Angel (To the Dark I Said Pour and Forgot to Say When) by @fangirleaconmigo T, 2.8k

Geralt is a long haul truck driver. With long stretches on the road away from his family, and with no one to keep him company but his loyal dog Roach, he has to brave most of his life completely alone. Then one day, just as he is passing the city of Oxenfurt, he turns on the radio and hears a voice.

zero for ten by @yaelathewordsmith (Rated T, 10.4k)

The blue-eyed boy on the school's cricket team seems determined to bowl Geralt out. The worst part is, he isn't even fucking trying. * Or, the ten times Jaskier held Geralt's heart in his hands without knowing, and how Geralt grew to want him to keep it.

~

(You can find my other reclists here!)

[im-ovulating]

hi, you may have seen my username recently in your notifications, i have gotten reobsessed with the arcana and i love your work.

may i request; the main six with a gn!partner who forgets/puts off taking care of themselves (eating, hygiene, etc.) unless theyre practically dragged off to do it? thank you!!

(A/n: I have and I appreciate all the support!❤)

Word Count: 1,944

Summary: If you won't take care of yourself, your partner will

Warnings: Various forms of self-neglect, Mention of injury/blood in Portia's, Reader's hair is long enough to put into a bun in Julian's

Age Rating: None

The Main 6 x Self Negligent! Reader

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

Lucio:

"Who's a good boy?~"

Melchior flops over for belly rubs as you continue to coo at him, his female counter part having gone to lay down in the shade a bit ago.

"You are, you're such a good, handsome boy, aren't cha? Yes, you are! Yes, you are~"

You're in the garden playing with Mercedes and Melchior as you had been most of the day. Opting to enjoy your rare day of relaxation.

After a few more scratches to his kick spot, Melchior abruptly sits up before bolting behind you. Turning, you're met with the one and only, Count Lucio. You knew he'd show up eventually. He always does. Whether it's to bother you, escape the courtiers, or to genuinely spend time with you, the count always has a bit of time with you each day.

"Y/n." Never learned to properly greet, huh?

He strides over to the tree sheltering Mercedes from the blistering sun, plopping down uncountly to lean against it as well.

"Hey, Luci," You're lucky you're his partner or you'd never get away with calling him as such. "What's it today? Come to pester me about distracting the dogs? Or has Valerius been getting on your case again?"

He places a hand dramatically against his chest as he feigns innocence.

"What? I can't just visit you out of the kindness of my heart? I'm wounded, truly, I am."

"Har har. It was Volta, then?-"

"OH! I just can't stand it! How does she put so much away?? And the chewing noises-" He cuts himself off with a shiver. "Ughack."

There it is.

You can't help but laugh. "She really can out eat the best of them, huh?"

"Speaking of- Have you eaten today, darling?"

Uh oh.

"Yeah, totally!" You lie.

"That's good. The chef really knows his way around a duck," Lucio's hand fall to scratch between Merchior's ear as he rests his head in his lap.

You nod in agreement. "He really does," you hum.

"You know what's funny?"

"What?"

He spares a glance your way before returning his attention to the dogs.

"Lunch was veal, not duck..."

There's a silence before you rush to explain yourself.

"To be fair, I-"

"Uh uh, no excuses." Lucio stands, brushing the dirt off his trousers before offering you a hand up. "Let's go get some food in you, sweet."

There's no arguing with him, so you let out a sigh and let him hoist you up.

"Let's go, then..."

-

Portia:

"Hey, Y/n? Have you seen- Oh my god!"

Portia drops the basket she's carrying as she catches sight of your arm.

She rushes to you as you stand frozen in shock. Her outburst and sprint towards you happening a bit fast to process.

You're snapped out of it when she grabs your arm, gently guiding you to a wicker chair.

"What happened?" Her fingers lightly graze over the cut on your arm.

"I, uh, had a slip up with one of the garden tools."

She looks up at you as she asks, "When did it happen? Some of the blood's dry..."

"I don't know..." You look at you lap, "Maybe 1 or 2 hours ago?"

Her grip tightens. "Why haven't you bandaged it up?? I swear, you remind me too much of Ilya sometimes."

"I had a lot to do, so I figured it could wait." The branches above cast Portia's face in a scary light as she glares at you.

"You put off fixing your sliced open arm because you had work to do!?" Well, when she puts it like that...

"I'm sorry," you whisper, gaze still on your lap.

Her look softens. "Sweetie... I'm sorry for yelling at you. I just-"

She lets out a breath, "I know you forget to take care of yourself and I worry that one day, you'll get seriously ill or hurt and I won't be there to-" She cuts herself off and you don't say anything.

"C'mon," Portia pulls you up with her. "Let's get you patch up, hmm?"

As if she can sense your oncoming argument, she says, "You can finish your work after."

-

Julian:

You wince as your hair is tugged once more.

"Sorry! Sorry, love. I can't seem to get this hair tie out; it's got some hair tangled around it..." Julian says as he tries to pry the band out.

"It's fine. You don't have to do this you know. I should have stayed on top of it and not just thrown it into a bun."

"I know I don't HAVE to but I WANT to. I like taking care of you, which helps since someone-" he reaches around to bop your nose, "-forgets to do it themself."

"Got it!" With one final tug, the hair tie comes free of your tangled strands. "Do you still have the brush?"

You pass it back to him and make yourself comfortable against his legs. You already know it's going to take a while to get all the knots out.

Julain takes the brush in one hand and the best version of a section that he could separate and gets to work. A calm silence settles over the both of you as he works. He starts from the bottom, lightly dragging the brush through the tangles, his movements rhythmic as he moves the brush up bit by bit.

Once the section is done, he runs the brush from root to tip to ensure it's done.

Section through section, Julian combs through your hair, successfully detangling the week's worth of knots. By the time he's finished, you're practically asleep against him.

Brushing through your whole head once more, he finally speaks.

"We're finished, dear," He gently sits you up, laughing when you groan in protest.

-

Nadia:

"What do you mean they haven't eaten in two days!?"

Oh no. Here it comes.

You know she's not going to accept your reasoning, but you really wanted to get this done. So what if you were a bit hungry, you were on a roll and would lose your creativity if you stopped now. You're almost done anyway.

The door to your room opens and Nadia comes storming in.

"Mind explaining to me why the kitchen staff just told me you haven't even touched the food they've been bringing you the last two days?" She stands with her hands on her hips as she waits for your response.

"Um..." You know she knows. she just wants you to say it out loud.

Yielding, you finally say it. "I was working on something... It's for your birthday so I wanted to get it done."

She pinches the bridge of her nose. "As much as that is incredibly endearing, you shouldn't put yourself in dangerous situations for a gift."

You balk. "It's not a dangerous situation though. If I keep working, I'll have it done by tonight!"

"That would make it three days with no food, and I'm guessing no water if we stay on theme." You don't like how she read you so well...

Before you can't respond, Nadia continues. "What if it didn't get done today, or tomorrow, or the next day? How far would you push yourself to get this done? I know how passionate you get about things and that's why I'm so stern about it. You're willing to go 36 hours without food or water for a present; what if it was something bigger? You could, in all honestly, die because of your passion."

She's right. You hate that she's right, but she is nonetheless.

"That's not happening on my watch, petal. Let's get some food in you and then you can go back to work."

Yes! You thought she was going to ban you for the rest of the day.

"Only until dinner, then you're done for the day."

Damn it.

-

Asra:

"I'm going to start a bath, would you like to join me, Y/n?" Asra calls from the other side of the door.

You had been working on perfecting a spell for the last few days. You locked yourself in your old room-turned-study just in case something went wrong; only opening the door to grab the tray of food the magician would set out for you or to use the bathroom.

Unintentionally, you'd put off cleaning yourself, which is probably why Asra was asking.

A bath honestly sounded like pure heaven, but you were so close to getting the spell right.

Another knock sounds out and you sigh. You really should take them up on their offer, but what if you forget how you did it last time?

'That's why you've been logging every attempt,' you remind yourself.

'But what if-' 'No, you need to bathe.' You quickly scan your notes to make sure everything's in order.

Once you've concluded that every thing is as it should be, you call out a 'Coming' to your partner. You know he's still outside the door so you quickly put your things back in place and head to the door.

.

"Fucking hell..." You sigh as you sink into the hot water, leaning back to rest against Asra. The heat doing wonders for your sore back.

"Spending days hunched over a desk doesn't do much good for you, huh?" They tease you.

You simply hum in response as he grabs your favorite soap, lathering it up before massaging it into your tense shoulders.

"Relax, I've got you..." They rub over a particular spot that causes you to go lax. "Would you like me to help with your spell? I think I have some ingredients that might make it easier for it to do what you need."

"At this point, that's all I want," you chuckle.

"Thank you." you turn your head to press a kiss to his jaw.

"Anything for you, love."

-

Muriel:

"Y/n?" Muriel asks as he enters your shared room.

"Yeah?" You respond.

Have you ate or drank anything today? I don't think I've you leave the room today..."

"I haven't, but I'm plan to in a bit, I just want to finish this book first."

"Oh, okay." He turns to leave but pauses, turning back to you. "How much is left?"

"Uh..." you flip to the last chapter to do the math.

"Like, 16? Maybe 18. Why?"

Muriel stares at you for a moment before striding towards you. Once by your side, he gently grabs your book, marking your page and setting it to the side.

"Hey- What are you doing?"

He takes your hands as he answers, hauling you to your feet. "It's getting late, you need to get something into your system."

You're slightly taken aback, you have to admit. Muriel is rarely assertive; always mumbling or trailing off his sentences and just generally lacking confidence in himself. So for him to take the initiative to pull you from your reading with out so much as a stutter is a bit shocking.

"I know, but I already said that I'll do it once I finish my book." You lightly protest as you follow him through the hut.

"...You're not- You're not going to be able to finish it today, though..." Just like that any assertiveness is gone.

It makes you break, allowing him to sit you down and place a bowl of soup and a roll in front of you.

"Eat with me?" you request, taking a bite of the roll.

God, this man can cook. You don't know where he learned it, but he makes some of the best bread you've ever had -it practically melts in your mouth.

He nods, moving to grab his own food, sitting down across from you as you both talk about anything that comes to mind.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

💙💜🩷 Books for Bisexuality Visibility Month 🩷💜💙

please support this blog

💜 How incredible is it that I made a list of 99 books for bisexual visibility month, KNOWING there are so many NOT featured on this list? I'm so proud to be bi. Having these characters and stories intertwine with mine warms my heart.

💜 What's your favorite book featuring bisexual characters?

💙 The Henna Wars - Adiba Jaigirdar 💙 Perfect on Paper - Sophie Gonzales 💙 Imogen, Obviously - Becky Albertalli 💙 Red, White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston 💙 Queens of Geek - Jen Wilde 💙 Just Your Local Bisexual Disaster - Andrea Mosqueda 💙 Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute - Talia Hibbert 💙 Rosaline Palmer Takes the Cake - Alexis Hall 💙 A Merry Little Meet Cute - Julie Murphy & Sierra Simone

💜 Leah on the Offbeat - Becky Albertalli 💜 The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo - Taylor Jenkins Reid 💜 Radio Silence - Alice Oseman 💜 The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue - Mackenzi Lee 💜 You Exist Too Much - Zaina Arafat 💜 Wolfsong - T.J. Klune 💜 The Pairing - Casey McQuiston 💜 Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail - Ashley Herring Blake 💜 Heartstopper - Alice Oseman

🩷 Going Bicoastal - Dahlia Adler 🩷 Some Girls Do - Jennifer Dugan 🩷 Hani & Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating - Adiba Jaigirdar 🩷 Autoboyography - Christina Lauren 🩷 Written in the Stars - Alexandria Bellefleur 🩷 They Both Die at the End - Adam Silvera 🩷 Cool for the Summer - Dahlia Adler 🩷 Delilah Green Doesn't Care - Ashley Herring Blake 🩷 One Last Stop - Casey McQuiston

💙 I'll Be the One - Lyla Lee 💙 Running With Lions - Julian Winters 💙 Take a Hint, Dani Brown - Talia Hibbert 💙 Felix Ever After - Kacen Callender 💙 Not Your Sidekick - C.B. Lee 💙 Ophelia After All - Racquel Marie 💙 Iron Widow - Xiran Jay Zhao 💙 Something to Talk About - Meryl Wilsner 💙 The Girls I've Been - Tess Sharpe

💜 Iris Kelly Doesn't Date - Ashley Herring Blake 💜 Never Ever Getting Back Together - Sophie Gonzales 💜 Her Royal Highness - Rachel Hawkins 💜 Call Me By Your Name - André Aciman 💜 I Wish You All the Best - Mason Deaver 💜 Mistakes Were Made - Meryl Wilsner 💜 Hang the Moon - Alexandria Bellefleur 💜 Kiss Her Once for Me - Alison Cochrun 💜 The Brightsiders - Jen Wilde

🩷 Wild Beauty - Anna-Marie McLemore 🩷 The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue - Victoria Schwab 🩷 Payback's a Witch - Lana Harper 🩷 A Dowry of Blood - S.T. Gibson 🩷 Six of Crows - Leigh Bardugo 🩷 Dark Rise - C.S. Pacat 🩷 If This Gets Out - Sophie Gonzales & Cale Dietrich 🩷 Let's Talk About Love - Claire Kann 🩷 Carry On - Rainbow Rowell

💙 Under the Whispering Door - T.J. Klune 💙 I Kissed Shara Wheeler - Casey McQuiston 💙 Pumpkinheads - Rainbow Rowell 💙 Icebreaker - A.L. Graziadei 💙 This Poison Heart - Kalynn Bayron 💙 A Lot Like Adiós - Alexis Daria 💙 Sorry, Bro - Taleen Voskuni 💙 We Are Okay - Nina LaCour 💙 Count Your Lucky Stars - Alexandria Bellefleur

💜 Hot Dog Girl - Jennifer Dugan 💜 Verona Comics - Jennifer Dugan 💜 They Hate Each Other - Amanda Woody 💜 The Disasters - M.K. England 💜 The Raven Boys - Maggie Stiefvater 💜 You Should See Me in a Crown - Leah Johnson 💜 These Witches Don't Burn - Isabel Sterling 💜 My Dearest Darkest - Kayla Cottingham 💜 City of Shattered Light - Claire Winn

🩷 The Unbroken - C.L. Clark 🩷 Dread Nation - Justina Ireland 🩷 House of Hollow - Krystal Sutherland 🩷 Love & Other Disasters - Anita Kelly 🩷 Ace of Shades - Amanda Foody 🩷 The Lost Girls - Sonia Hartl 🩷 Of Fire and Stars - Audrey Coulthurst 🩷 This Is Kind of an Epic Love Story - Kacen Callender 🩷 Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz

💙 If You Still Recognise Me - Cynthia So 💙 Melt With You - Jennifer Dugan 💙 The Charm Offensive - Alison Cochrun 💙 That Summer Feeling - Bridget Morrissey 💙 The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School - Sonora Reyes 💙 The Luis Ortega Survival Club - Sonora Reyes 💙 The Fiancée Farce - Alexandria Bellefleur 💙 Flip the Script - Lyla Lee 💙 Role Playing - Cathy Yardley

💜 I Think I Love You - Auriane Desombre 💜 Truly, Madly, Deeply - Alexandria Bellefleur 💜 Gearbreakers - Zoe Hana Mikuta 💜 Finally Fitz - Marisa Kanter 💜 The Spirit Bares Its Teeth - Andrew Joseph White 💜 Margo Zimmerman Gets the Girl - Brianna R. Shrum & Sara Waxelbaum 💜 Late Bloomer - Mazey Eddings 💜 A Darker Shade of Magic - Victoria Schwab 💜 Love at First Set - Jennifer Dugan

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

TW: NSFW, dubcon if you squint

You are laying in bed, not sleeping, feeling sorry for yourself when your phone rings on your bedside table. You don’t recognize the number, so you answer with a cautious, “Hello?” 

“Hi, pretty girl.”

You pause a long beat, and not because you don’t recognize the voice on the other end. “How the ever-loving fuck did you get this number?”

It’s Officer Tom Ludlow, of course. Just what you need, on this night from Hell.

“I’m a detective, remember?” You can just hear the self-satisfied smirk, and he’s lucky he’s not standing in front of you, because tonight you just might have slapped him.

You use your moderately adequate brain for some deductive reasoning of your own, and realize, “You took my number from Julian’s phone. After you assaulted him.”

On the other end he lets out a long whistle. “Baby, that’s such a strong word.”

“Do not call me baby.”

“Alright. Sweetheart.”

“God, you are such a fucking caveman.”

“Thank you.”

You sigh, too fucking tired for this shit. Your heart feels like a chewed up piece of gum, and your lady parts are pulsing angrily at you for ruining their evening earlier.

They like the sound of Tom’s deep voice in your ear, and that is so not good.

“You okay?”

The question actually takes you aback, because the smarmy shit-eating tone is gone, and he sounds…serious?

“I guess. Why?”

“That doesn’t sound okay.”

“Why do you think it’s any of your goddamned business?”

“I told you. If Dr. Bitch hurts you, it is my business.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” you grumble. In fact, he didn’t really do much of anything to you. Now that more time has passed, the more annoyed you are about that.

Fuck if Detective Ludlow doesn’t seem to hear that in your voice too. “Ohhhh. Sounds like the Good Doctor didn’t hit anything?” 

“Oh my god. I hate you. Do you know that?”

He gives a low chuckle that absolutely goes straight to your deprived pussy, and you squirm a little in bed, so grateful he can’t see you.

“You wish you hated me.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Don’t hang up, pretty girl. Tell me what you’re wearing.” His voice dips low, and smooth as velvet.

Every hair on your body lifts in response to this, your nipples pebbling into painful points. Bastard.

“A parka.”

“Pshh. You sleep in a parka? Come on, baby.” How effective that soft, coaxing tone is at dissolving your inhibitions is alarming. You can almost see yourself, as though standing at the edge of a great abyss. If you jump…there will be no going back. 

“Fine. I’ll use my own imagination. I think you’re wearing…a cute little lacy negligee that just floats on your luscious curves…”

Well, you guess you’re getting a picture of what he likes.

“Jesus Christ. I’m wearing a tank top, you pervert,” you grouse, trying to shatter his fantasy. Nevermind the fact that you are now soaking wet, again.

“Nice. No panties?”

“I am wearing panties.”

“You aren’t going to need ‘em. Do you know what I’d do to you, after dinner, my beautiful nurse?”

“Gee, I bet you’re going to fucking tell me.”

“Oh come on. We’re having fun.”

“You are having fun.”

“But you’re still listening.”

Well, he has you there, the smug sonofabitch.

“Maybe.”

He chuckles at the other end of the line, a low sound that makes you clench with need.

“You’ve got to answer a question for me first.”

“What?”

“You’ve got to dip into that sweet little pussy for me, and tell me how wet you are on the scale from one to ten.” 

You should rip him a new one for this. Or just hang up. Why can’t you just hit the button and end this nonsense? But then…you’d be alone. Your real-time reaction is less dignified, but maybe more honest. 

You laugh.

It starts as a giggle, then crescendos into an all out guffaw. “Tom…you are a nut.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, and goddamn if you don’t actually start to feel better. “Oh come on baby, don’t hold out on me. I’ve got a solid ten inches in my hand for you here.”

This makes you laugh even harder. “Ten inches?!”

“Ok. Maybe nine and a half.” 

You giggle, and you can’t stop. “I don’t know if I can handle all that, Officer Ludlow.”

You don’t know how his voice lowers even more, as he says, “Oh, I know you can take it. Don’t worry, I’ll ease it in nice and slow.”

Suddenly the bubbles of laughter in your gut go flat, replaced with an aching heat that sears your insides, your clit throbbing in response to his dirty mouth. It’s possible a kittenish little sound squeaks from the back of your throat.

You really don’t know where you get the courage to ask softly, “Yeah? Then what?”

“Then I would kiss all over those pretty, soft titties. I want those perfect nips in my mouth.”

You know you make a sound then, and he surely hears it. “Will you check them for me? Lick your fingers and give them a pinch.”

“You are ridiculous.” It comes out small, and breathy, and it doesn’t really sound like an insult at all. So what, if you do as he tells you? And so fucking what, if imaging it’s his hands on you makes you feverish with desire, a spear of longing throbbing in your cunt.

He doesn’t answer you right away, which means he’s busy with something else. Maybe Tom is just as pent up as you are from all this edging the two of you have been putting each other through. 

“Are you.. are you really?” You ask, hating how your voice exposes the fact that you’re not only pinching your nipples, but borderline feeling yourself up at the sound of his hiking breath. 

“Yeah, honey, I am.”

“Oh,” you say, because it’s the only thing you can think of. Your cunt is screaming below about how she wants to talk to Tom Ludlow because you’re doing a shit job at it. 

“Ah, fuck. Are you doing what I told you?” 

“No.”

“Good. Lick your fingers again, circle those pretty nipples for me. Close your eyes and imagine it’s my tongue. Fuck, I wanna suck on your tits so bad.” 

He doesn’t have to know that you’re following orders. That you’re grinding on the bunched blanket between your legs while you imagine his big, rude hands playing with your tits instead of your own.

“You listening to me, beautiful girl?”

“Yeah. Don’t get a big head about it.” 

“Good job. And too late.” 

“I do hate you, you know. I’m serious.” It has no real venom; in fact, it sounds more like a term of endearment at this point. 

He laughs. “C’mon, tell me how soaked she is.”

She’s flooded, is the answer. She’s dampening the pressed comforter, she’s throbbing and screaming and crying and pulsing to the tempo of his black coffee voice. 

You’re not much for vocals when you get off. You have neighbors that already have to hear about your dreams, and the act itself seems like more business than pleasure sometimes. When you were younger, you shared a room with your two sisters, so you learned to be quiet and discreet about rubbing your pussy. That all flies out the window when you sink two fingers into your sopping cunt at Tom’s direction. 

“10,” you hiss, straining to hit your gspot. Maybe you really do need to invest in one of those toys Sheila is always elbowing you about.

“Oh, poor baby.” Your walls flutter violently at his mocking tone. 

“I thought you were going to tell me what you would do to me after dinner?” Maybe you’re desperate, or just stupid. It doesn’t really matter when all you want is to orgasm on Tom’s voice.

“Thought I was? Didn’t I tell you about how I’m gonna dip into that sweet wet pussy, and play with your little clit with my thumb while I fuck you with this big cock? How do you like it, honey? Slow and deep? Fast and hard?”

You make a strangled little sound–because your fingers are just not enough, and it hurts. It hurts that he’s not here with you, filling you up, holding you down with those calloused hands and that filthy, insatiable, mouth.

“What was that?” 

His voice is strained, and you think you’re not the only one in pain here.

“Slow,” you answer. “At first.” Why exactly are you handing him this ammunition? How stupid, how dangerous, to offer up the keys to your undoing? You know he will only use this information against you.

“Mmm.” His breathing is labored, and the thought of him with his cock out, stroking himself to this dirty talk is almost too much to stand. Julian had you trussed and at his mercy right in front of him, but couldn’t keep it up. All Tom Ludlow needs is the sound of your voice. After the night you’ve had, that alone is nearly enough to make you cum.

“But then I like it deep,” you pant. “You think you got what it takes?”

“Baby, I’ve got everything you need.”

You are trying to be as quiet as you can, while you abuse your clit with your two middle fingers, practically holding your breath, getting high on the oxygen deprivation. You’re too quiet, you suppose.

“Don’t be shy, beautiful. Gotta let me hear it when you cum for me.”

“Or what?” you grouse. “Maybe I’m just…mixing pancake batter.” 

His laughter is strained, and you just know he’s close. “Or you’ll regret it, sweet girl. When I finally get these hands on you? Mmm I’ll make you pay. I’ll make you cum without mercy.” 

Again, you can’t help but compare the versions of punishment to the men in your life. Julian wants to hurt you. Tom just wants to make you cum.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah? You there, baby?”

You try to just breathe through your nose, to not give him the satisfaction–but you fail spectacularly.

“Y/n?” He calls, singing your name and making it sound so pretty and good and special. 

“Y-yeah?”

“You coming with me? I’m waiting for you.”

You’re right there, dangling over that sweet, slippery precipice that you can usually ease yourself over carefully. Tom gives you a little shove, and you’re plummeting. 

“That’s my girl.” He doesn’t sound much better off than you while you sob from the unexpected, haywire orgasm. 

It takes a long minute for you to come back to earth, come back to breathless Tom who isn’t saying anything for once in his life. 

That pleasant, floaty post coital bliss gets stained with shame when the clarity of who you just mutually masturbated with hits you. 

He talks first, what a surprise. “Do you feel better?”

“No.” But then, “a little bit.”

“At least one of us does.” You hear him shuffling around on the other end, maybe opening a fridge. It makes you smile to think of him jerking off at his kitchen table. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Why in God’s name are you still entertaining this conversation? You both got what you wanted, and if you stay here too long listening to his voice you’re going to be right back where you started—ready for round two. 

“I won’t feel better until you’re mine.” He sounds humorless, which worries you in itself even without the possessive words added. “C’mon, sweet nurse, aren’t you supposed to help me feel better?”  

“I don’t belong to anyone, Tom. I never will.”

“Oh? Bullshit.” 

“I’m hanging up.” 

Almost as if he knows you’re full of it, or maybe he just doesn’t care about talking into an empty phone line, he continues. “You’re telling me you’ve never wanted a man to take care of you? Protect you, defend you, fuck anyone up who even thinks to raise a hand or word against you?”

Honestly? That’s all you’ve ever wanted, although you’ll take that admittance to your grave. After a lifetime of taking care of other people, having someone to do that for you in return sounds like a castle in the sky. But, the thing about castles in skies? They’re imaginary. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Let me guess, you’d do all that and more?” Maybe the venomous sarcasm is a little too mean. 

He sighs as if you’re the one assaulting his date, stealing his number, and then calling to harass and annoy him. “Okay, tough girl. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“No you won’t.” 

“Mm. Night, beautiful.” 

You wait for him to hang up. He doesn’t. You don’t, either. You feel his grin blossoming through the white noise of the line, listen to him rustle about, hear bottles clinking, water running, fabric swishing. Your eyes get heavy to the sounds of his nightly routine, lashes threatening to touch cheek. 

His voice is void of its usual gruff when it permeates the pleasant, strange, foggy land between awake and unconscious. “Baby?”

“Mm, yeah?” You try to make your mouth move properly, but the words come jumbled and slurred, weighted with exhaustion. 

“Sweet dreams.” 

[starrieshq]

I've Loved You And You Haven't Known It

Hey guys! This is officially my 100th post here! As a little celebration, here's a Kit Herondale x Ty Blackthorn fanfic for you :)

Kit’s heart almost stopped when he saw the Shax demon poised over Ty’s limp body.

He distantly heard Dru’s screams as she ran over to him, Julian close behind her. Emma was yelling something to them, telling them to get Ty away from the fight, away from the demons-

“Kit?” He heard Ty whisper. “Kit, I-”

He choked back a sob as Ty’s voice faltered, and gripped the Herondale dagger tighter. Everything in him was telling him to run, to go to Ty, to help him. But he had to be strong now. For Ty. For everyone.

As Emma and Mark attacked a nearby Vetis, Kit scoped out the Shax that had injured Ty. Dru had held it back while Julian had carried Ty to safety, but now that they were both gone, the Shax was getting dangerously close to Cristina, who was wildly fending off another demon.

‘Oh no, it won’t.’ Kit thought. ‘Not another.’

He stowed the Herondale dagger and unsheathed a longsword, and despite being very limited in his sword work, he took in a deep breath.

“Kit!” Helen called, wielding a crossbow.

“Helen!” Kit rasped. “Ty was hurt, he-”

She grasped his arm. “Go to the Institute. Go to Ty.”

He frowned and gestured to the fray. “But-”

“Go,” She said. “This fight can be ended easily. But Ty needs you now.” She gave him a determined smile. “The Watson to his Sherlock, right?”

Kit gave her a stunned look.

“Yeah.” He said.

Helen shook her head as she loaded her crossbow. “Go!”

She didn’t need to tell him twice. Kit sheathed his sword and took off running towards the car.

By the time he arrived at the Institute, the adrenaline of the battle had worn off, and all Kit could do was worry.

He dashed inside and ran to the Infirmary, where Julian was tending to Ty and Dru was nowhere to be seen.

“Is he alright?” Kit immediately asked, panic evident in his voice.

“Dru’s trying to fire message Magnus and Alec.” Julian responded, sounding worried. “They’ll know how to help him. There’s nothing I can do as of right now.”

Kit did not take that as a good sign.

“Do…do you think he’ll be okay?” He asked.

Julian remained silent for a moment. “He’s resilient. He’ll make it through.” He raked a hand through his brown curls. “But there’s actually been something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

Kit immediately ran through all the possible outcomes of what he could ask. What if he knew about Livvy? What if he knew the real reason Kit had gone to Cirenworth? What-

“What’s going on between you and my brother?”

Kit halted, unsure of what to say.

“What do you mean?” He decided to say.

Julian raised an eyebrow. “You know. You and Ty. Sneaking off together, always being secretive? What’s going on?”

Kit internally let out a breath of relief. Not about Livvy.

“Nothing, really. We just-”

At that moment, Ty began to stir, quietly groaning as he shifted. Julian and Kit immediately lapsed into silence and watched Ty.

After a moment, Julian gestured to the hallway. “You stay with him. I’m going to go find Dru.” He said. “I think he’ll be in good hands.”

Kit nodded as Julian slipped out of the infirmary.

An hour later, after Magnus had come and worked his magic, Ty was still asleep.

Kit was stretched out a cot next to Ty’s, and was absentmindedly fiddling with the headphone cord that stretched between their beds.

He looked over at Ty, whose hair stood stark against the paleness of the bedsheets. His chest rose and fell, and his cheeks had a pink tint that Kit knew was usually only present when he had said something funny and Ty laughed almost uncontrollably.

Kit was about to go to sleep when Ty finally woke up.

“Kit ?” He rasped out. “Kit, where are you?”

He shot up immediately and got up. “Ty, I’m right here.” He said, perching at the edge of Ty’s bed.

His eyes scanned Kit, looking relieved. “What happened?” He asked, trying to sit up and wincing.

Kit grabbed onto his torso and gently helped pull him upright. “A Shax demon got you. Julian got Magnus to help heal you.” He said. “You’re in the infirmary right now.”

Ty looked around, taking in the rows of cots, the moonlight streaming through the wall of glass windows, and the disheveled and rumpled bed next to him.

“You…stayed with me?” He asked surprised.

“Of course,” Kit replied, “Why would I leave you?”

The corners of Ty’s lips tugged upwards. “Thank you, Watson.” He said. Then, he tugged the covers down.

“Where did it get me?” He asked quietly. “I can’t really feel any pain right now.”

“Yeah,” Kit cleared his throat. “Magnus gave you a lot of painkillers. So you wouldn’t be in agony.”

He walked over to the other side of the bed.

He motioned towards Ty’s shirt. “Can I-”

Ty nodded, and a slight tint crept into Kit’s face. He gently pulled up the side of Ty’s shirt, exposing an angry red slash that ran from the top of his hip bone and across his chest.

Ty took in the wound. “It’s going to leave a scar.” He remarked.

Kit nodded. After a moment, he pulled Ty’s shirt down.

“I should probably go tell Julian that you’re up.” He said awkwardly. “I’ll-”

“Stay.”

Kit’s gaze snapped to Ty.

“Are you sure?”

Ty nodded. “Please.”

Kit’s throat went dry as Ty scooted over to the other side of the small bed and gestured for him to join him.

“C’mon.”

Kit hesitantly settled into the space next to Ty. Their bodies were squished on the small mattress with absolutely no wiggle room, but they managed to shift around. Kit’s arm was awkwardly positioned above Ty’s head, Ty’s legs were tangled with Kit’s. They settled into their positions.

After several minutes, Kit couldn’t stand the silence. “Ty?”

No response. Kit propped himself up on his arm and scanned Ty. He had fallen asleep again. Great.

Kit stared at him, his calm face, his dark hair, his lithe and pale body pressed against his tanned one.

He took in Ty’s calm expression, a mask of peace blanketing his face.

After a moment of deliberation, Kit finally decided to go to sleep.

By the time Kit woke up, sunlight was streaming in through the windows. He could smell the distant whiff of a frittata, probably Aline’s doing.

He was about to get up, but froze when he looked down.

Somehow, during the night, both Kit and Ty had shifted in a way where Ty was half on top of Kit, using his chest as a pillow. Their legs were still tangled together, and one of Kit’s arms was wrapped around Ty’s waist.

He flushed, but before he could do anything, Ty began to stir.

Kit froze, unsure of what to do. What if when Ty woke up, he saw what had happened during the night and was mortified?

Kit was snapped out of his reverie when Ty yawned and opened his eyes.

“How long have you been watching me sleep?” He asked.

Kit flushed an even deeper shade of pink. “I just woke up. I was about to get out of bed when you started to wake up.”

Ty yawned again. He glanced at Kit, his eyebrows furrowing. “Your hair is a mess.”

Self consciously, Kit raised his hand to try and fix it.

Ty watched Kit struggle for a moment.

“Let me do it.”

He hesitated as Ty reached up and began fixing Kit’s hair, his slim fingers raking through his blonde curls. The tips of Kit’s ears slowly turned red as Ty scooted closer to him.

He could feel Ty’s steady breath against his neck as he said, “Okay, I think it looks fine.”

“Thanks.” Kit said abruptly, his cheeks deepening in color. This, of course, did not go unnoticed by Ty.

“Kit? You’re turning pink.” He noted.

He turned pinker. “Yeah. I know.”

Ty sat up next to Kit, so close that their noses were almost touching. Kit could feel his heart speeding up. “People usually blush when they’re embarrassed, but I don’t think it’s that. Is it?” He asked.

“No.”

Ty looked confused. “Then what is it?”

“You.”

Ty’s eyes widened slightly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Kit shook his head. “No, no. It’s not that. It’s just-”

He cut himself off, refusing to finish the sentence.

“Kit?”

“It’s just that…I really want to kiss you right now.” He said truthfully, his face burning. “But I can’t.”

“And why can’t you do that?”

Kit avoided Ty’s gaze. “Because you don’t want that.”

“Kit.” Ty said. “How do you know what I do and don’t want?”

His eyes flickered in Ty’s direction.

“The truth is, you don’t know what other people think.” Ty continued. “You don’t know if Tavvy is as lonely as he appears. You don’t know if Julian really has everything under control all the time.” His gray eyes pierced through Kit. “And the only way to really know how someone feels is through their actions.”

Kit’s heart sped up faster.

“So how do you know that that’s not what I want?”

Kit’s eyes found Ty’s. “I don’t.”

Ty’s eyes flickered.

“Can I kiss you?”

Kit gave a small nod.

Ty hesitantly leaned forward and gently pressed their lips together.

Kit gave a small gasp, his arms automatically wrapping around Ty’s waist. Ty gently raked a hand through his hair, his curls tickling his palm.

It felt as if they were speaking a language that only they knew. Kit lost himself in the push and pull of the gravity between them, the wordless dialogue tearing down the walls he had spent years building between him, between Ty.

When they broke apart, Ty’s face was flushed pink, his lips slightly swollen.

“Oh.” Kit said.

After taking a hot shower, Kit was still not one hundred percent sure that he hadn’t hallucinated the last hour.

His face told him otherwise. His lips felt slightly tingly, he had a permanent blush fixated across his cheeks and ears, and felt like he drank 20 cups of coffee.

After shrugging on a plain black shirt and his signature jacket, he headed down for breakfast in hopes that he could avoid the rest of the Blackthorns.

To his slight dismay, Tavvy and Dru were in the kitchen, eating frittata and laughing.

He quietly poured himself a bowl of cereal as they chatted.

“Julian said that Diana’s coming today.” Tavvy announced.

“Really?” Dru asked. “Isn’t she somewhere off with Gwyn or something?”

“I dunno.” Tavvy said after a moment of consideration. “I miss Diana.”

“I do, too.”

Kit choked on his cereal as Ty walked into the kitchen, wearing a black sweater and jeans.

Ty, upon seeing Kit, froze.

“Do you feel better, Ty?” Asked Tavvy.

Ty cleared his throat, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. “Yeah, I’m doing better, thanks.”

Dru raised an eyebrow at Kit, who flushed and looked away.

“Ooookay,” Dru said, nodding. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Kit and Ty immediately said.

“Uh huh.” She said, putting her plate in the sink and heading out of the kitchen. “See you later.”

“Wait up, ‘Silla!” Tavvy called, hopping out of his chair and running after her, leaving Ty and Kit alone in awkward silence.

After a moment of silence, Ty motioned towards the door.

“Well, I guess I’ll-”

“Stay. Please.”

Ty looked surprised.

“Kit…”

Kit took a step forward.

“Ty…I have liked you. For a long time. Probably since you held that knife against my throat in my dad’s basement.”

His face was bright pink, but he continued.

“And to tell you the truth…that night before the Cohort’s parley, the night you- I mean we, tried to raise Livvy? I meant it. Every word. I love you, Ty. I’ve loved you and you haven’t known it.”

[moo-siala]

I STILL LOVE YOU — MAX VERSTAPPEN

PAIRING: max verstappen x ex-wife fem!reader

SUMMARY: max’s ex wife finds out he’s getting married again

CONTENT: mentions of divorce, angst, sadness, cheating

NOTE: get ready to cry. i did while editing it + this is a repost from my old blog too but this one got slightly revised. some errors got fixed but it’s not 100% proof read.

As y/n sifted through the mail, she noticed a white envelope with "y/n verstappen" written in gold letters. frowning in confusion, she carefully opened it. the moment she saw the contents, she felt her heart shatter. it was a wedding invitation—specifically, an invitation to max’s wedding.

“max and eleanor request the pleasure of your company to celebrate their wedding” was written on the card in gold and black letters.

y/n felt her eyes water and closed the envelope. this could not be happening, she thought. but it’s not like her and max got divorced yesterday.

the divorce was due to his racing career. he wasn't as present as y/n and the children needed him to be, which led to constant arguments, fights, and tears until their marriage ultimately ended. this happened over three years ago, but she still couldn't understand how he had moved on so quickly. perhaps her difficulty in understanding stemmed from her own inability to move on.

she had tried everything, and by everything, she truly meant everything. she had met new people, gone on countless dates, and even ventured into the realm of online dating, hoping to find a connection that might help her move on. but nothing seemed to work. none of those men were him. some were good, hardworking, and loyal, but there was always something missing. each new encounter only served to highlight the void he had left in her life, the irreplaceable presence she couldn't seem to find in anyone else.

"mama, why are you crying?" a soft voice pulled her back to reality. "hey, i’m not crying, i just have an allergy," she chuckled, hugging leon, one of her seven-year-old twins. "julian and i are ready but he is helping emma with her bag," he smiled, hugging her back.

leon and julian were twins—practically mirror images of max. thet shared the same face, the same eyes, and the same cheeky smile that always managed to light up a room. meanwhile, emma was a carbon copy of her mother, with the exception of her blonde hair and blue eyes, inherited from her father.

the twins were only four years old when the divorce happened, and emma was just two. the process was far from easy, but both parents made a concerted effort to minimize the trauma for their children. they navigated the difficult path with as much grace and cooperation as possible, ensuring that their young ones felt loved and secure despite the upheaval. the priority was always the well-being of their children, and they did their best to shield them from the worst of the pain.

“mama! we’re ready!” julian and emma ran out of their rooms with bags in hand, “hey, be careful!” she laughed, “we’re ready!” julian exclaimed and emma giggled, “that’s good, oma will be here in no time” y/n hugged the children, or like max likes to call them, their cubs.

the doorbell rang, signaling sophie’s arrival.

about a week ago, sophie had asked if she could take the kids on a little trip to a lake she had visited with a friend near the city. after looking at the pictures, y/n couldn't say no. the children would love it, and she knew how much they enjoyed spending time with their grandma.

when she got pregnant, max suggested that it would be better to move back to the netherlands so the babies could be surrounded by family. she didn't hesitate and agreed with his proposal. while she loved Monaco, nothing could compare to having her family nearby.

when she looks back at those memories, she’s thankful that she chose to come back. she doesn’t know what could’ve been of her if she had to go through the divorce all alone in monaco.

she walked over and opened the door, smiling warmly. "hey!" she greeted, pulling sophie into a hug.

"how are you doing, sweetheart?" sophie asked, hugging her back as she stepped inside. y/n knew exactly what she meant. "i’m good," she replied softly, her smile gentle. sophie nodded, giving her a sympathetic look just as the three mini verstappens ran over to their grandma, hugging her legs and making her laugh.

"oma!" they exclaimed in unison. "who’s ready to go to the lake?" their oma asked, eyes sparkling. "me!" the cubs chorused excitedly.

they said their goodbyes as she helped sophie put the kids in the car.

“i’ll let you know when we get there” she told y/n, “sounds good, and send pictures, please” y/n smiled in return, “i will. and honey, if you need anything, just give me a call” she pulled her into a tight embrace, “i know, thank you, soph” “no problem”

—

ass the dedicated mother she was, or as max fondly referred to her, the lioness, y/n found herself feeling oddly restless whenever her children were away—simultaneously bored yet remarkably productive. with them gone, she efficiently organized weeks of work and meticulously cleaned the entire house. completing her chores left her with a sense of satisfaction, prompting a leisurely shower before descending to the kitchen to prepare a meal.

while deeply focused on cooking, the doorbell rang unexpectedly. perplexed, since she was only expecting sophie’s visit that day, she set the knife aside, quickly washed her hands, and hastened to answer the door.

“uh, hey?” she said opening the door, “hey, how are you?” max asked, “i’m good. your mom already left with the children so…” “i’m here to talk to you, can i come in?” he asked, “sure…” nodding, she opened the door a bit more for him to come in.

“are you busy?” he asked after you closed the door, “not really. just cooking” she walked back to the kitchen, max followed.

max sat in one of the stools as he watched her wash and chop some vegetables for the salad she was preparing.

“what did you come to talk about?” y/n looked up, his blue orbs finding her beautiful eyes, “i wanted to know if you got the…” “the wedding invitation? i got it today in the mail” she nodded, her tone coming out a bit dry even if she didn’t mean to sound that way.

“are you mad?” he asked, “why would i be? congrats, by the way” she said, adding her favorite vinaigrette to the salad, “don’t be like that…” he sighed, “like what? am i not supposed to congratulate you now?” her eyes found his once again.

“you know exactly what i mean, y/n” he said, “i don’t know what you mean and i’m not in the mood to fight. i’m tired and hungry, so can i please enjoy my salad?” she asked and he scoffed, “i can see it in your eyes, y/n. there’s something you’re not telling me and i want to know what’s going on” he sighed, “we’ve been divorced for almost three years, but remember we were married for four before that”

she felt her eyes water but quickly wiped the tears away.

“i’m okay, max” y/n said while grabbing a glass and pouring some juice in it, “you’re about to cry, tell me what’s going wrong, i want to help” he softly said, and that’s when she broke.

"i don't know max, maybe the fact that once again i'm the one who's going to be all alone?" her voice broke, "the fact i'm the only one who's going to come back to an empty home when the kids are spending time with you? or maybe it's the fact that for some reason i can't move on with my life but everyone else can! you did, why can't i?" by now, she were a crying mess.

move on? he never moved on. his family knew it, his friends knew it, everyone knew it, he knew it.

he was never able to move on from her, the love of his life—the woman who lifted him up when he was feeling down, who cried tears of pride after almost every race, the woman who showed him a new depth of love when he became a father, and the woman he lost because he messed up.

seeing her crying broke his heart, but it also gave him hope. hope that the woman he deeply loves, loved him back still, even if it was just a little bit of it left.

he liked eleanor. she was good with the kids and kind to y/n, but she wasn't her, and she never could be. eleanor, younger than him and eager to settle down, was someone he found comfort in, at least temporarily. he went along with the idea of marriage, thinking he had nothing to lose, until the day she poured her heart out to him. it was then that he realized eleanor could never replace the deep connection he had lost with his former wife.

"i never wanted that divorce," he said softly as he walked over to her. "and you think I did?" she sniffed, wiping away her tears. “you asked for it..." he began. "because I got tired of giving you signals and second chances that were never taken, max," she sighed, her voice heavy with emotion. she looked up at him, hoping he would understand the weight of her words.

max felt like shit, to say the least. hoy could he be so dumb? how could he throw away his family and the love of his life just like that?

“please give me one last chance, i promise i’m not going to fail you and the cubs again”, he sat next to y/n on the couch, grabbing her small hands and squeezing them softly, “max, you’re getting ma-“ “if you don’t want me to get married i won’t. i just need to hear you say it”, he interrupted her.

y/n was in utter shock to say the least. could he really be serious? the gravity of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving her struggling to comprehend the reality of the situation.

“i am serious. you know it” he said, almost as if he could read her mind, “please baby girl, i need to hear you say it”, he pleaded, staring into her eyes.

y/n took a deep breath.

“maxie… please… please don’t get married” she softly said, eyes watering and lips trembling. max sighed in relief and hugged her tightly, “i’m never letting you go, ever again” he grabbed your face and kissed her softly.

“i hope you stick to that promise” “you know i will, schatje”

[vaguely-concerned]

UNHINGED DISTANT VOICES THOUGHTS (or: now we don't have time to unpack all of that julian but --)

this ep has such a banger concept (several banger concepts that should have had an ep all to themselves, really), even if its overall implementation is pretty mid. the idea that julian seems to readily believe that the most central voices inside him are aggression, fear/suspicion, doubt, confidence/sense of adventure, professionalism... and garak, being surprisingly, seductively good at tennis and taking care of him :}

in a doylist perspective I don't think this is well-crafted enough to read into it too deeply before it starts to fall gently apart, but through a watsonian lens and my fannish heart this is fucking fascinating fdsjka. where. where are all the positive feelings and sides of you that aren't about bickering with garak julian. are you okay julian. I like that since the augment storyline hadn't been conceived of yet at this point, you could look back and justify Julian's surge of confidence at the end as him realizing the lethean hasn't been able to get that deep in his mind to find what that whole mess must look like in his brain. 'you don't understand me half as well as you think you do' gains such depth, basically accidentally

'I'm a part of you, remember? I know what you know. Well... maybe a little more.'

'Still the man of mystery?'

'Oh, you wouldn't have me any other way.'

what. the FUCK fhdskjha. what's more gay, the lethean having picked through bashir's brains for this characterization of garak and their relationship (that Bashir easily buys and depends on through the ep), or him seeing half a minute max of julian and garak having lunch and uh. drawing his own conclusions, apparently. wild stuff)

Isn't this also the first time we see Julian actually play tennis with someone? All the other times it's been racquetball, right? Well well. Interesting. is all I'll say.

avery brooks does SUCH a good job changing his voice in this to match julian's doctor voice, I almost jumped in surprise when he was talking b/c that certainly isn't sisko's voice coming out of sisko's mouth

garak alternatingly going 'now -- what do you want me to do?' in a very... willing directable sort of way and telling julian that he's a good boy doing good and being so supportive and attentive and that's how the lethean tries to keep julian's shields down the longest. many thoughts. few of them PG.

JULIAN'S REASONING THAT THIS REALLY ISN'T GARAK -- NOT EVEN HIS MIND'S VERSION OF GARAK -- IS THAT THIS GARAK ISN'T COMPETENT ENOUGH FSDKJFHKSDJ. and he sounds so petulant about it too. 'the real garak would have this fixed for me a long time ago if I just batted my eyelashes and told him I thought cylon pareg's body of work was very interesting and layered :'( I miss him'

jazdia julian BROtp got me crying in quark's tonight, this was such a good direction to take that relationship. I know they kind of fuck it up again in s7 but y'know I'll take the good stuff while it's here haha

julian makes for such an amazing crotchety old man im love him

julian has a near-lethal stress dream about turning 30 and being bisexual. it's weird but very entertaining, and garak is there

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

I saw one of your requests of the M6 as college students and my cringe self who loves high school/ college AUs got an similar idea 🙌 could I get a mini hc about how the M6 would act if they had the classic high school crush on someone?

The Arcana Mini-HCs: M6 with a highschool crush

Julian: not sure how to approach you, just knows that he wants to. more likely to make friends with your group, wait until he has a chance to be a hero, and then wince when his voice cracks

Asra: the type to make their own space/presence as appealing as possible and then leave it to you to make a move. still makes his affections obvious by passing you little doodles in glitter pen

Nadia: so excited for a potential connection and so unused to connecting that all you get is a firm "I'm tutoring you today. Don't be late" before she flounces off around the corner and turns bright red

Muriel: very, very confused, because his heart did a 180 and is now heading towards a person instead of away from them. you become the only one he doesn't glower at in the hallways between class

Portia: she is going to win you over with the power of love, friendship, and snacks. quickly figures out what all your preferences are and starts keeping your favorite things on hand until you fall for her

Lucio: a jock by parental pressure, a theatre kid at heart, he's going to loudly sing his own praises whenever you're around and then approach you like a kicked puppy when you don't ask him out already

[tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine]

bbc Ghosts tattooshop capvers au

okay completely based on @captain-rickbond amazing modern Caphrey drawings:

My brain ran with an Ghosts tattoo shop au and though it's Caphrey bffs of course my brain made it Capvers (no one saw that coming I'm sure😉):

-Robin: tattoo artist style old school has one big lightning tattoo over his whole body nothing else. Does also do stick n poke.

-Humphrey: tattoo artist traditional and neo traditional does classic paintings on the side that he sells ,covered in tattoos himself (based on cap rickbonds drawings)

-Kitty tattoo artist. Style: fineline, floral work, dot work , watercolour and cartoon style

-Mary tattoo artist style: black work specialised in tattoos that look like old book illustrations and sketch style, loves doing witchy tattoos

-Allison tattoo artist photorealism style I. Colour and black and grey

-Cap: store manager

-Thomas: that one customer who gets turned away frequently because he wants face, neck or hand tattoos as his first tattoo

-Julian customer three tattoos one heart with Margot one with Rachel and some pun/innuendo very close if not directly on his gentleman's excuse me. Robin did all of his tattoos

-Fanny: friend of cap does like Humphreys paintings and comes by when she wants to chat, gossip or ask Humphrey to do a portrait of one of her pets (on canvas obviously)

-Pat: customer. friends with all of them no tattoos over shirt lines because he works in a bank. His tattoos are mainly humourous about stuff he loves in cartoon style kitty is his main artist.

-Obi the shop apprentice focuses on graphic style (tattoos that look like graphic design) and / or trash polka

The story:

Cap has few tattoos from different artists. Fineline flowers from kitty and a date that holds great importance to him done by Humphrey, a morsecode tattoo on his chest etc. his tattoos are not visible to others normally. They are small and personal.

Robin has a certificate in how to tattoo scars and made all of his artists learn as well

Havers just moved there and wants to symbolise a new start in life with something beautiful coming out of the scars of the past (upper body/arm scars not the face ones)

He walks in for a consultation and is a bit nervous because first it has to be determined what can be done, if the scars can be integrated and if the goal is to fade them optically or use them to enhance the picture.

It's a busy day and stuff has gone wrong so there's a waiting period and cap gives him tea and they get talking and find out they're both ex military and he's relaxed and smiling by the time robin comes to collect him

During the consultation Havers let's it shine through that he's not exactly sure what he wants style wise so robin who's very old school in wanting to challenge his artists calls them one by one to look at him and asks them to design something that symbolises his wish of a new start

He even calls cap in to ask something about if they still have a specific needle type. Cap sees Havers shirtless and gets extremely flustered. And everyone's like "??" Because normally cap runs the shop like a well oiled machinery but now he can't remember if they have that needle size

Havers returns the week after to look at the designs and the main themes are phoenixes or flowers (a lot of dandelions and lotuses)And cap can see (because he keeps looking🤭) that Havers is a bit overwhelmed with choosing so he brings them all tea and starts chatting with him and it quickly turns out what he really loves from which design so cap suggests they do a collab piece on Havers. And everyone whose in the design gets really excited and of course it means that Havers has to come back for another consultation. By that point the others have caught on that cap is talking to and mentioning that one customer a bit often.

Havers returns the next week and for some reason he got the appointment wrong and is almost an hour early (oh dear) and so that very handsome store manager who is bored on this very slow day takes it upon himself to drink tea with him and chat telling him that he loves the meaning behind his tattoo and that he's in good hands and it'll look awesome on him and he shows him his own tats which makes kitty run to the others and whisper because normally no one gets to see caps tats.

The design is wonderful and Havers loves it but because of size and difficult level aka sitting through the extra spicy pain it's gonna be done in numerous small sessions. And every time cap and him find time to talk to each other or shooting glances at each other.

His colleagues try to get Cap to ask Havers out before it's too late but cap is like that's unprofessional and the guy is here to get a tattoo not be hit on by staff.

With the sessions and the healing process it takes months before the tat is finished and it's very clear to everyone else around them that the attraction between the two is very much mutual

And on the last appointment cap wants to ask him out before he possibly never sees him again but everything goes wrong because Thomas demands that this new poem of his has to go on his neck and Robin argues with him and Julian Fawcett turns up drunk for his appointment and Alison has morning sickness and so cap who waited anxiously for Havers to come pay and say bye had to do the payment real quick and wants to say bye and ask him but then Julian smashes a vase from the counter because he got in on the argument between Thomas and Robin and Havers at one point slips out sad that he didn't got to talk to Cap one last time.

Cap is feeling a bit down over the next weeks and everyone is trying to cheer him up.

A few weeks later Havers is suddenly there again because he lost some lines during healing and Cap wasn't even aware that there was an appointment but Humphrey is like oops forgot to tell you.

The actual appointment is over suspiciously fast. (Aka Humphrey met Havers somewhere accidentally and used to meddle)

And then it's time to say goodbye and Cap can't get the words out and Anthony looks very anxious and he's almost at the door but cap calls out to him, Havers whipping around and cap is like I eh oh well I meant to say...we'll be having a flash day on the third if you're interested.

And something about calling him back just gives Anthony the kick he needed and he informs him that he doesn't think he's the type just yet to get random tats because he's more after meaning. New beginning specifically at the moment which also means new people in his life and there's one person he really likes and wants to get to know even better and then he asks Cap out.

Over the next two years the teasing sentence "cap stop flirting with your boyfriend we're about to open" can be heard almost every day in the shop at which point Havers leans over the counter to collect his daily goodbye kiss before leaving for work.

Havers design btw I'm thinking a phoenix made out of flowers like a flower bomb gone off all over his flank and pieces on his chest and upper arm like flames out of flowers everywhere around the actual bird where there is scarring.

During those two years Havers gets a tattoo of the date of his first appointment underneath the phoenix.

And after that the only clearly visible tattoo Cap has that is done as a collab and on two people who don't have many tattoos (the absolute exception Robin makes which drives Thomas insane) are the wedding ring tattoos for Cap and Havers.