#my heart has been broken again and again and again

[claypgeon]

broken up? no, engagement! | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x actress!reader

summary: y/n l/n has a weird way of announcing hers and max’s engagement.

notes: pls pls pls send in request!! i finally have free time but no inspiration:(

liked by, danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, and 602,927 others!

yourusername: i no longer have a boyfriend.

view comments below!

user1: wait what

user2: i’m sorry ???

user3: DID YOU AND MAX BREAK UP???

user4: no no no

user5: this CANNOT mean what i think it does

user6: you’re kidding me right

charles_leclerc: please answer my messages!

user8: no way

user9: THE CAPTION???

danielricciardo: ?

danielricciardo: answer my messages please

landonorris: mine too?

user10: does anyone know what is going on?

user11: so you’re available now 😏

user12: you were too pretty for max anyways 🙄

landonorris: um what’s going on?

user13: lando just being as lost is so ??

user14: wait but why would she and max break up

user15: i’m so…confused?

user16: MAX ISNT IN THE LIKES ??? OMG NOOO

— f1gossip has posted new pictures!

f1gossip: y/n l/n was seen cozying up with cast mate, Luke Newton amidst breakup rumors between her and max verstappen. thoughts?

view comments below!

user17: “cozying up” and it’s her taking a picture of him ??? 🙄

user18: admin is acting like they were making out in front of everyone…

user19: oh!

user20: users on twitter were saying max was THERE with them so ??

user21: she moves on fast!

user22: this sounds wrong…

user23: we literally know NOTHING about hers and max’s relationship or WHY they broke up. let’s not assume.

user24: my heart just broke

user25: okay but her and luke are kinda cute together? no? just me?

user26: HER AND MAX WERE CUTERRR

user27: i’ll start foaming at the mouth if y/n l/n doesn’t come out and say her caption was just a joke.

user28: HER AND MAX WERE SUPPOSED TO GET MARRIEDDDD!!!!!😓😓😓

user29: i can’t do this rn. i just can’t.

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 962,028 others!

maxverstappen1: I understand that, without my agreement, my lovely finance has put out a instagram post this morning indicating that we have broken up. This is wrong, we have not broken up. We got engaged. We are to be wed.

view comments below!

yourusername: i thought they would understand what i meant 😞

user30: GIRL ALL YOU SAID WAS YOU NO LONGER HAD A BF ???

user31: you did NOT phrase your words correctly

user32: gave me heart attack and for what 😐

user33: don’t play with me like that ever again.

danielricciardo: i love you @/yourusername, but please do not play with my heart like that again.

danielricciardo: BUT YAY!!!! WEDDING OF THE CENTURY!!

user34: OMG ???

user35: I KNEW IT !!! I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

user36: AHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHH

user37: oh thank GOD

user38: pls don’t ever scare me like that again 💗

landonorris: OMG OMG OMG OMG ???!??!??

landonorris: AND YOU LOT DIDNT TELL ME ?!?!?

landonorris: YNSTAPPEN WEDDING!! AHHHH

user39: congratulations!!!

f1: about time you proposed 😒

maxverstappen1: ?

redbullracing: so excited for the red bull themed wedding!! ☺️

yourusername: yeah that won’t be happening

redbullracing: i understand.

user40: i’m crying ??

user41: does this mean i don’t have a chance with y/n anymore ?? ☹️

user42: THAT SHOULDVE BEEN MEE

charles_leclerc: congratulations too you both 💗

maxverstappen1: thank you charles 💙💙

user43: omg just ask him to be your best man already 🙄🙄

oscarpiastri: it is an honor to have my tweet used as your engagement announcement 🧡🧡

yourusername: max couldn’t resist 😒

user44: i just know this wedding is going to be GORGEOUS

georgerussell63: congrats too you both! ❤️

yourusername: you’ll sing at the wedding right?

georgerussell63: duh 🙄

yourusername: perfect!

lewishamilton: so excited 💗💗

yukitsunoda0511: can i cook?

yourusername; of course you can yuki!!

user45: i’m so excited and it’s NOT EVEN MY WEDDING ??

schecoperez: did you tell her how you were shitting yourself with nerves this entire week?

maxverstappen1: no 😒

yourusername: aw max 🥹🥹

liked by, maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, and 1,238,028 others!

yourusername; i got married today. it was cool. 10/10 would do again!

view comments below!

user46: was the wedding 10/10 or was the groom 10/10??

yourusername: both!

user45: OMG ITS HAPPENED ???

user46: so happy for you both 🥹

maxverstappen1: 💙💙

georgerussell63: i personally think my singing brought everything together…

yourusername: it really did george, it really did

charles_leclerc: so incredibly happy for you both ❤️

user47: we all saw the video of you sobbing during the ceremony charles…

user48: to be fair, EVERYONE was sobbing

user49; their vows even made ME cry

landonorris: amazing wedding, 10/10 would attend again!

yourusername: thank you little lando 🧡🧡

oscarpiastri: i would like to request the video of my dancing to be scrubbed off of the internet.

maxverstappen1: no chance mate 😂

yourusername: it’s okay oscar, i thought your dancing was adorable!!

lewishamilton: me and roscoe had the times of our lives ❤️❤️

user50: ROSCOE WENT TO THE WEDDING ?? 😭

user51: not only roscoe, but alex and TWO of his cats 😭😭

liked by, yourusername, danielricciardo, yukitsunoda0511, shecoperez, and 1,629,028 others!

maxverstappen1: i married my bestfriend today. it was amazing. 10/10 would do again!

view comments again!

user52: he’s officially off the market ladies 😒

user53: he’s been off the market for 4 years ???

user54: if my man doesn’t love me as much as max loves y/n i don’t WANT HIM

user55: ever since y/ns “i no longer have a bf” post i’ve been thanking the gods that this is how it turned out

danielricciardo: bestfriend? wow, you get married and suddenly you forget who raised you.

maxverstappen1: y/n is my bestfriend. she always will be.

danielricciardo: JUST RUB IT IN THEN.

user56: omg her dress 😍😍

user57; them >>

user58: did you guys see that they BOTH took each others last name ??

user59: wait really ?

user58: yeah 🥹 it’s y/n l/n-verstappen and max verstappen-l/n

user60: that is the cutest thing ever

user61: the matching captions 😞😞

user62: remember last year when y/n made everyone believe they broke up ??

user63: thank GOD that wasn’t true

yourusername: i love you mr l/n

maxverstappen1: i love you more mrs verstappen

user64: WHEN IS IT MY FUCKING TURN

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

What is Broken IV (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader) FINALE

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: traumatic childbirth, blood, semi-suicidal thoughts, Aemond is fantasizing about murder again, all the angst

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: I don't understand why, but thanks so much for all the support I've gotten from this horribly angsty fic! This is my first go at angst so I really appreciate it. I'm gonna work on two happy-ish fic chapters before I get started on When It Breaks, but it's coming...

And a huge, enourmous thanks to @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @ripdragonbeans for being my betas for this! I was so anxious about getting this absolutely right and they were so kind and encouraging. Love yall forever 💜💜💜

Taglist is done via reblogs

What is Broken

She was so light, his ābrazȳrītsos.

Even while carrying their children – their sons – Aemond swore she was lighter than when he left. He held her close to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder and her legs draped over his forearm. With every step, he could feel more of the liquid that had spilled from her womb - now mixed with small, hateful tendrils of blood -  dampening his sleeve.

Gods, how much blood had he seen in the past year? How much had he spilled himself? There had even been times when he reveled in its metallic tang. But the sight of her blood was nothing less than abhorrent.

He ran faster, until he could not make out the faces of those he passed, shouting for a Maester to be sent to their chambers immediately. One of them must be a servant. With luck, the Maester would already be there when they arrived.

She cried out as he began to ascend the stairs, wincing with each step, her weak grip on him tightening. “It hurts, Aemond.”

“I know, my love.” He slowed down, though his pounding heart urged him to do just the opposite. “I’m so sorry. The maester will be here soon, and he’ll help you feel better, hmm?”

“He has to stop it. It’s too early,” her voice cracked, and Aemond’s heart with it. “They’re not ready!”

But it couldn’t be stopped, not by man or gods. Their children would be born today. The only question was whether they would survive. If their mother would survive. Her poor body was so weak, and her heart… he had broken that, too.

If any of them died today, that blood would be on his hands, and he would gladly accept his damnation to the worst of the seven hells.

“Come now,” he chided gently as they reached the corridor to their chambers. “Our sons are dragons – they will be strong. And so will you, ābrazȳrītsos.”

“Sons?” She lifted her head, her entire body trembling with the effort it took. Her eyes – those beautiful eyes now gilded by the setting sun outside the windows – locked with his. “How… you sound so sure.”

Just one more lie. One more, and then he would never lie to her again.

Besides, this lie was small, nearly inconsequential. Many fathers insisted that their children would be sons until the child itself proved them wrong. It would be so easy for her to believe. The truth would hurt her – perhaps weaken her further. Aemond did not want her to hear Alys’ name. She should never have to even think of that witch ever again.

But he could not bring himself to do it. He could not sully the birth of his sons with yet another lie. He pushed their door open with a shoulder, never breaking her gaze. “Alys told me after you left. Before… she had a vision of us holding our sons. I’m so sorry, love.”

She slumped again, her face dropping into the curve of his neck. Once, she kissed him there, slept with her head tucked there. Now, it was simply where her head lolled. “I’m glad it’s sons. You’ll have two heirs…”

Her words were cut short by a gasp of pain, but Aemond heard it clearly. It echoed in his very bones. So if I live, you’ll have no more need of me. The gods had just crumbled the ground beneath him, his heart and soul with it. He was falling, falling, falling…

“I am glad, too.” He set her down gently in the bed, brushing away several tangles of hair stuck to her sweaty brow before arranging the pillows around her, hoping he was adequately managing to hide his devastation. For he could not bear to be without her, could not bear to love her only from a distance. He would go mad. Yet he would happily accept that horrible fate if it meant he would not lose her to the Stranger. “Mother will be, as well.”

“Mother!” She tried to rise, but he held her softly to the bed. “I can’t do this without Mother, Aemond. We must return home immediately!”

“I am afraid that is not an option, Princess.” Maester Artos stood just within the doorway, maids and Septas streaming in behind him. He was a mountain of a man, better suited to the battlefield than the birthing bed. But he was good at what he did – very good. Aemond had seen him work miracles on men who should have never survived their injuries.

The moment the women began attending to his wife, he approached the Maester, speaking quietly so as not to frighten her. “Something is wrong, Artos, she is bleeding. And she’s very weak.”

Artos hardly acknowledged him, looking only at the princess lying in the bed. “The blood is not the problem. She is distressed and too thin.” He stated, as cold and clinical as all other Maesters.

“Yes, I know that already.” Aemond took a shaky, calming breath. He did not like the way Artos observed her, as if she was a thing to be studied rather than a woman – a princess. Perhaps when it was all over, he’d kill the man for it. “I fear she is not strong enough to survive this.”

She cried out behind them. Two maids were pressing damp cloths to her forehead. Another was hastily braiding her hair back. A Septa had begun cutting away her dress, leaving her only in her chemise as two more maids removed her slippers and stockings. Two other Septas knelt by the windows, praying, while one woman who seemed to be neither maid nor Septa laid metal and wood instruments atop a tall, thin table.

It took every ounce of Aemond’s self-control not to go to her. To shove away each woman because it should be him – and him alone – to touch his wife while she was so vulnerable. He should be the one to protect her, but he couldn’t. He could only hurt her, it seemed.

“Artos!” Aemond hissed.

“Is her spirit weak as well?” There was suspicion in his dark eyes. The same he’d shown when he confirmed Alys was carrying a child. If he hadn’t been so proficient a healer, Aemond might have killed him then.

But for now, Aemond was glad Artos was alive. He swallowed, avoiding looking back at the bed as his wife continued to whimper and moan. “Yes.” The maester just hummed before approaching the bed. Aemond followed, kneeling at the bedside, the maids immediately clearing away.

“This is Maester Artos, ābrazȳrītsos.” She stared wide-eyed at the hulking mass of the man who now knelt between her legs. Aemond tugged on her hand, her gaze snapping back to him. “I know him well. He’s going to take very good care of you, I promise.”

She shuddered, her eyes closed tight as she squeezed Aemond’s hand so hard he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. He delighted in it. She was not as weak as he thought, thank the gods. If she needed to break every bone in his hand – in his body – to live through this, he would let her do so without complaint.

“Are you going to stay with me?” she asked, her voice already ravaged by screaming.

Aemond blinked. When they first learned they were to have a child, he swore he would. But now, it seemed impossible for her to want him there. Not after what he’d done. “Do you… want me to stay?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out but another moan of pain. Her eyes darted all over his face. The longer she stayed silent, the further Aemond’s stomach dropped, and his heart ached.

“I believe it wise to have the prince wait outside,” Artos said decisively.

Aemond felt her hand slide out of his, the sensation the same as if he were falling from Vhagar’s back—her answer.

He nodded, and though he knew he shouldn’t, he leaned over her and kissed her forehead, trailing a hand down her cheek. “I love you.”

As he walked to the door, he still held a little shred of hope in his heart, waiting to hear her say it back.

It never came.

The moment the door shut behind Aemond, she regretted sending him away. She wanted to call him back so she wouldn’t be alone with so many strangers. But panic began to set in as the maids pulled her gently down the bed, and her voice failed her.

“It won’t be long now, princess,” the maester said, but she found no comfort in it. She couldn’t even remember his name. Alton? Alyn? Amos? Aemond had said he trusted him, but…

But that meant he had been here when Aemond was with Alys. And that glint of pity in his eyes, not just for her conditions, but for what he knew. He knew. Seven Hells, he’d probably been the one to care for Alys and her pregnancy.

Alys. Alys, Alys, fucking Alys!

She did not know what to think of the woman who had stolen so much from her. Had she stolen it, or had Aemond given it? She could hardly make sense of what she’d learned in that dreary little room.

Alys was not the evil, scheming witch she had first imagined. But neither was she innocent in the affair, not wholly. She was not remorseful for her actions, but she apologized for hurting her. She had been kind.

Blinding pain shot through her, and she screamed. Wordless and desperate, her only outlet for release. She needed to scream, needed to roar, needed to breathe fire. Anything to distract from this. Gods, she even wished for a moment for Alys to be there, holding her hand. At least then, she could return some of that pain.

“Princess,” the maester said, though he sounded far away. Though it was more likely that her shouting was drowning him out. “Very soon, I will ask that you push. Do you know how, your highness?”

Push. That’s what the septas had instructed Helaena to do at the birth of her twins and for Maelor. She even had vague memories of the word from when she peeked through the open door to her mother’s chambers when Daeron was born. But what it meant and how to do it?

Her confusion must have been apparent, for the maester continued. His voice was frustratingly calm and steady. “It is fine if you do not, princess. You must simply follow your instincts. When you feel the urge, push the child outward with all your might.”

“I have no might.” She heard herself laughing through tears and only then realized she was crying. Someone took her hand – she didn’t know who. But the feeling of another’s skin on hers was heavenly.

“You have carried these babes for months,” the maester – Artos! that was his name – said gently, “while your husband and the realm were at war. In my estimation, you are the mightiest woman in Westeros.”

She felt nearly every muscle she had tense, turning her answering grateful smile into a grimace. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not have weathered her pregnancy as well as a paper boat in a storm. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not still love her husband after he betrayed her. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not have let her emotions weaken her or put her children’s lives in danger.

She was far from the mightiest woman in Westeros, and she could not do this. She wasn’t strong enough. She was only a weak and broken little girl.

A maid approached, a fresh cool, damp cloth in her hands. The princess had not looked at any of their faces, too absorbed in her pain and panic. But now, she caught the eyes of this girl—deep, rich brown, so similar to her own – to her mother’s.

“I want my mother,” she whispered to the maid, even knowing it was impossible. “I can’t do this without her.”

The maid gaped at her as if she could not fathom a princess ever speaking to her. She looked to her companions for guidance, but the princess only looked into the maid’s eyes and thought of her mother—the scent of the rosemary oil she used in her hair, the warmth of her embrace, and the soothing tones of her voice.

“Please, I want my mother,” she begged. A new surge of pain gripped her, radiating into her legs. They were coming faster now; she barely had time to breathe between each wave. “Please.”

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness.” The maid’s voice was high and breathy, nothing like her mother’s. “The queen is not here.”

She cried, turning away from those false eyes. She was alone – entirely and utterly alone.

“Princess, I need you to be strong now.” Artos’ sweaty brow was furrowed with half a dozen creases, his eyes wide and mouth a firm line. He looked more like a commander on a battlefield than a maester. The Grand Maester would have smiled at her, but he was not here, either. “Your labors are progressing quickly. It is nearly time to push.”

“I don’t know how,” she cried. She refused to open her eyes. If she kept them closed, she could almost imagine she was home.

Artos wrapped his hands around her ankles, pushing them upwards and further apart. “You do, princess. The Mother wove the knowledge into your body. Listen to it, and all will be well.”

“I – ”

Her next scream rattled the room, the keep, the entirety of the Riverlands.

Fire, ice, steel, and claw seemed to rake down her spine to her thighs. But Artos was right; her body reacted to the pain, her muscles moving near-unconsciously to force the babe out of her womb. She followed the instinct, pushing it harder, harder, harder.

“Very good, princess!” Was that Artos or Orwyle? She couldn’t tell anymore.

It was never-ending.

Pain, pushing, and a brief moment of reprieve.

Again.

Again.

Again.

It lasted hours, days, perhaps even years.

Was a child – a son – even worth this pain? How could she love someone who had tortured her so? Would she ever be able to look at him without remembering how she suffered?

Pain.

Pain.

PAIN.

Then –

“Stop, princess!”

She went limp, vaguely beginning to feel other sensations creep in: the coolness of the water on her forehead, the slight scratching of the sheets beneath her, and the hushed whispers of the maids and midwives.

The pain was still there, but softer. Less insistent.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice nearly unrecognizable, even to her.

Artos emerged from between her legs, relief painted over his harsh face. “Nothing is wrong, princess. It is simply time to be gentle and allow your body to do its work.” He smiled, chuckling under his breath. “I can see your babe’s white hair – quite a bit of it.”

Laughter bubbled up in her throat. Deep, joyous laughter. Another slight wave of pain passed through her, but she didn’t care at all. She was thinking about her niece and nephew, how Jaehaerys was born with nearly a full mane of silver frizz while Jaehaera had not a single hair on her head until she was over a year old. “He has hair?”

“Yes, although I do not know yet whether it is a boy, princess.”

“It is. He is.”

There was one more brief surge of pain, and then she heard her son cry.

It was torture to wait outside while his ābrazȳrītsos screamed with pain. At first, Aemond stood leaning against the wall, as Aegon did when Helaena began her labors, but his knees failed him when he heard a scream that rattled the world.

He’d been on the floor since, resisting the urge to cover his ears. But he had caused her this pain, so he must listen.

He would be in that room with her if he hadn’t been a weak, damnable fool. He would have held her hand, letting her release her pain onto him. She had only squeezed his hand once, yet he still felt the ghost of her touch on his skin. He would savor that pain for the rest of his life.

It seemed to be never-ending, the torture his son was inflicting upon her. How could he ever forgive the child for doing this to his own mother?

Then, it stopped.

Aemond leaped to his feet, panic infecting his blood like a disease. Why had she gone quiet? What was wrong? Was she dead? He couldn’t face –

A babe cried—his first cry, with his first breath.

Their son.

He tried to push the door open, but it was locked.

“Let me in!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the door. “Artos, let me in!”

There was no answer, but he could hear soft voices inside. None sounded like hers. Oh gods, had she brought their son into the world at the cost of her own life?

Aemond slammed himself against the door again and again, not caring for the damage he was doing to his own body. “Open the door now, Artos!”

He threw himself against the wood again and again. At some point, it had to yield. Either it would, or his body would.

It opened just before he launched himself at it again—not all the way, but it was open. Then, Artos stared at him through the gap with his hateful, disapproving gaze.

“Let me in,” he growled. Trying to force the door open was useless, as the maester was practically a giant and, apparently, throwing all his strength into holding it closed. “If you don’t let me see my wife, I swear I’ll – ”

“Your wife has not finished her labors yet, my prince.” Damn him, the mountainous bastard. “But I am pleased to inform you that she has borne you a son.”

Though he knew it was to be a son, the words still shot through him. A son. His son. Their son.

“Is he healthy? Is she?” There was no more fight in his voice. The warrior prince had vanished, replaced only by the husband and father. By all the gods, he was a father.

Artos nodded. “The boy is small but healthy. Your maester may have miscalculated the date of conception. He is remarkably healthy for being born so early.”

“And my wife?”

“She is tired, but well. The second babe is not quite ready to emerge, so she is resting.”

The weight of all the world was lifted from his shoulders. He felt like the little boy he had once been on Driftmark, wanting nothing more than to see his zaldrīzītsos and take comfort in her embrace. “May I see her? Please.”

“I’m afraid not, my prince.” Artos at least had the decency to sound genuinely apologetic. “She needs this rest. With the first birth, she was wonderfully strong, more than I could have ever imagined. But I fear she has depleted her strength. She fell asleep the moment it was done.”

“Is… is it bad that she fell asleep?”

Artos sighed, his eyes turning to the floor. “Ordinarily, no, but with how thin she is, how weak… it worries me.”

No. No, no, no. “Is there anything you can do? To help strengthen her?”

“I am afraid not, my prince.”

“Well, do something. Do whatever you can.”

A soft moan came from behind the door. Ābrazȳrītsos. Aemond pushed against the door, opening it as far as he could to try and catch the barest glimpse of her.

Her eyes were nearly closed, her reddened cheeks making them appear as dark as night. Her chemise was soaked through with sweat and whatever other fluids came out with their child. But no blood beyond what he already knew to be there.

“Ābrazȳrītsos! I’m here!” He shouted. It took a moment for her to look his way. He could have sworn she smiled. “I’m with you! You must be strong, my love. I know you can be. I love you! I love you so much, ñuha zaldrīzītsos!”

Artos pushed against the door, forcing Aemond back. “That is enough, my prince. Upsetting her will only drain her strength.”

Aemond knew it was true, that his presence would likely upset her rather than comfort her. So, he stopped resisting and allowed the maester to close the door. Just before it closed, he whispered one final command, “Take care of her, Artos. She is my world.”

The pain returned, worse than before. The lightning crept down her spine again, but it was now accompanied by a great force set on tearing her body apart at the seams. Pushing brought no relief, nor did it seem to move her son any closer to the world.

Artos came to her bedside, resting the back of his hand against her brow.

 “It’s worse this time,” she confided in the maester when it finally ebbed. “It’s so much worse. Why?”

He sighed and sat on the bedside, his massive hand nearly eclipsing her head as he stroked her hair. It made her feel remarkably like a kitten. “I cannot say, princess. There are many possibilities. This child could be larger, in a slightly different position, or…” He hesitated. “As I said, there are too many possibilities for me to be sure.”

His pause unsettled her, but it soon faded away when another wave went through her. “Is he nearly ready? I can’t do this much longer.” At least she knew what to do this time, so surely it would be better.

“Ah, another son, is it?” Artos stood from the bed to examine her spread legs. Several maids gently moved her to replace the sheets beneath her. “Not yet, but soon. Your motherly instincts will tell you when.”

Motherly instincts. Gods, she was a mother now. There was a child on the other side of the room that she had given birth to, that she had grown within her. A son who would depend on her for his entire life. Her, and his father.

Aemond would be a good father, she knew, even if he were decidedly lacking as a husband. But as a father, he would be attentive, kind, and loving. He would give their sons all the love he was denied by their own father.

They would not repeat the mistakes of the past. They would love their sons. They would not ignore them, speaking to them only to scold them. They would teach them the language of their ancestors themselves instead of relying on tutors. As soon as they were old enough, they would teach them how to be compassionate and fair rulers. They would not force them to marry for political advantage or the continuation of the bloodline but let them fall in love, as they had.

She could see them now. Both with white hair and unruly curls. Bright lilac eyes. The elder would take after her, but with Aemond’s determination. The younger would take after their father but with her gentle temperament.

As if the vision was summoning her second son, she felt her body constricting, muscles tightening. Without fear, she began to push.

“Princess, stop!”

Artos screamed as if someone was holding a sword to his throat, desperate and panicked. His eyes were wide and bulging as he looked from her face to where her second son should be emerging. “You mustn’t push now, princess. Not once. I…”

He stood, pulling one of the Septas aside. Others followed, and their frantic, poorly hushed whispers grew louder. She knew the sight should frighten her, but she forced herself to remain calm. Aemond said he trusted this man and had seen him work miracles. Whatever was wrong, Artos would fix it.

She was sure.

Artos burst out of the door without warning. Aemond pushed away from the wall. “Is it over?”

The maester sighed.

Shit. Seven Hells and all the Gods.

“Your wife is strong, my prince,” he began. Holy gods, he sounded as if he would cry. “Enough so that I would have little doubt that she could deliver your second child, but…”

“What’s wrong?” Aemond felt his heart race, his blood surge, his finger twitching for his sword. He was going into battle, but this was not a battle he could fight with steel or fire. This was not a battle he could fight at all. “Artos?”

“The babe is not in the right position.” He moved his hands as if it would somehow make Aemond understand what he was saying.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the babe cannot be born, your highness.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. Not after everything she had suffered and survived.

“If she were to continue her labors, neither she nor the child would live.” Artos put a hand on his shoulder, an attempt at comfort. “I can save only one. Who survives… that is your decision, my prince.”

The gods were cruel to force this upon him – the very choice that had damned their family decades ago when Viserys chose to sacrifice his wife and queen for the chance at a son. That was where the seeds of destruction had been sown.

Aemond could not repeat the mistakes of the past. He would not be like his father. He had his son and heir. A second would be preferred, but not at the cost of his ābrazȳrītsos.

His ābrazȳrītsos, whose heart would break to lose her son. Who would never forgive him if he decided to –

He couldn’t choose. He couldn’t let her die, and he couldn’t let their son die.

He couldn't live without her, and he couldn’t take away her will to live.

He tore himself out of Artos’ grasp and stormed into the room.

Aemond threw open the door, his eyes wide and wet, and suddenly, she was not so sure that Maester Artos would fix whatever was wrong.

He ran to the bed, not sparing a glance at their new son. She burst into sobs the moment he took her in his arms. “Oh, ābrazȳrītsos,” he whispered into her hair as he kissed her temples. She entwined her fingers with his, desperately squeezing. “I’m here now. Everything is going to be fine.”

Liar. Sweet Liar. Beloved Liar.

“I want Mother. I want Helaena.” Her voice crackled with tears and exhaustion. Everything hurt. Someone – most likely her – was crying, though it sounded distant. And if Aemond was here, not waiting outside…

If Aemond was here, holding her hand and stroking her hair, it meant something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“Mother is not here right now,” he said, squeezing her hand tighter. He wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t meet her gaze. “And Helaena… she can’t be here. I’m so sorry.”

“She told me she would hold my hand like I did for her. She promised!”

“I know. I know, my love, but it is not possible.”

Because Helaena was dead. So were Daeron, and Jaehaerys, and Jaehaera, and Maelor, and Otto, and Ser Criston, and nearly every other person she loved. Aegon would be dead soon, too, then she would only have her mother and her husband.

Her mother, who had begged her to forgive the husband who betrayed her and broken her heart.

“I can’t do this alone, Aemond. I can’t.”

“You can, I know it. You are so strong, dearest.” Yet there was no confidence in his voice.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear his hair out just to make him hurt, too. “I can’t! I’ll die if you make me, Aemond, I know it. I know something is wrong. Please, tell me.”

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowed. “My love, I…” his voice faded, leaving them in total silence, save for that distant crying.

Then, he kissed her—not the soft kisses on the temple or head of the past fortnight, but the way he had kissed her when he said goodbye all those months ago. His lips slotted against hers perfectly, and she opened for him on instinct. She knew she should stop, push him away, and scold him, but she couldn’t.

Everything felt wrong—her entire body felt wrong. But this, kissing Aemond, felt right. Her desperation for comfort far overpowered her anger and resentment. Her trembling hand rested on his shoulder, her fingers bunching in his shirt. She pulled him closer, wanting more—more rightness, more connection, more feeling.

More Aemond.

But he pulled away, resting his brow against hers as she chased his lips again. He placed a hand on either side of her face, holding her still. “I’m going to fix this,” he rasped, his voice shredded by fear and desperation. “I will fix this, I swear.”

Then, he let go.

He stood from the bed and turned away from his wife.

He was leaving. He was fucking leaving her.

She screamed his name, cursed him, begged him to come back, hurled insults, and cried for him. He couldn’t do this to her, not after everything he’d already done.

This was not love. The heat that burned in her chest was not love.

It was hate.

For the first time in her life, she truly hated Aemond.

“Alys!” Aemond bellowed as he descended the stairs to the servant’s quarters, taking the steps two, three at a time. No one dared approach him. Not even Artos had tried to stop him as he ran away from his ābrazȳrītsos.

She may hate him forever for this, for leaving her when she was so weak and scared.

Fine. It would be worth it.

“ALYS!” The door snapped from its upper hinge as he tore it open. The witch was precisely where she’d been when Aemond left, her hand on her chin as she looked into the fire. What vile hell did she see in her visions now? “Alys!”

“I heard you, Aemond.” She did not look at him, only staring at the flames, those green eyes flitting around as if she were reading a book. “The entire continent heard you.” There was no humor in her voice, no hint of a smile on her face.

He swallowed, panting. He was crying – weeping like a little boy. That didn’t matter now. Very little mattered now.

Aemond fell to his knees before the witch with whom he had destroyed his life. He would do whatever she asked, destroy what little was left of his pride if necessary. “I need your help, Alys. Please.”

“She’s dying?”

“Yes. The maester said I had to… that I had to choose who to save.”

“And you can’t choose between her and the child.”

 “No, I – ” he swallowed as his voice shattered. He was going to vomit. “I can’t, Alys. I can’t. Please.”

“What is it, exactly, that you want me to do?” She was colder than the Wall, than the entirety of the lands beyond it.

“Save them, both of them.”

Alys’ eyes narrowed. Her face was painted with an expression he had never seen. He had no clue what it meant. “What would you sacrifice,” she asked flatly, “to ensure your wife and her children – your true heirs – live?”

“Anything,” Aemond croaked, “Everything.”

One corner of her sinful mouth lifted in a way that did not bring him comfort. She sighed as if taking the time to thoroughly consider his plea. The wicked bitch was gleefully stalling when the lives of his wife and child could end at any moment.

“Please, Alys,” he begged again, desperation crawling through his veins like spreading ice. “I cannot live without her, and she will never recover from her grief if she loses the babe.”

Something passed over her face, and she smiled fully. “You have always been a man of loyalty and nobility, Aemond.” Her grin sharpened as she laid one delicate hand upon her belly. “Almost always, at least.”

“Alys,” he growled in warning.

“Oh, don’t be a beast about it,” she scoffed. “I will do it – save them. If only in memory of our time together.”

Aemond sagged as relief swept through him, but it did not last long. She was still dying. The babe was still dying. Whatever Alys would do, she needed to do it now. He opened his mouth to command her to start, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“I promise it will be done.” She flung her hand to the door in dismissal. “You should be there for her. She is still so very frightened.”

He needed nothing more to run back to his wife.

She was alone. Even with Maester Artos and the dozen women hovering around her, even with her son cooing softly from the cradle by the window, she had never felt so alone.

Aemond was gone.

He’d left her. Without even a goodbye, he’d left her. He had not even stopped to meet his son.

Artos murmured something to one of the Septas, who quickly gathered the other women on the far side of the room. He approached the bed, again seating himself upon the edge, and pressed the back of his fingers to her brow briefly before petting her hair. “How are you feeling, princess?”

“Am I going to die?”

He hesitated in answering. “I cannot say for certain…”

“I know something is wrong. Please, tell me.” Her heart constricted as his fingers brushed against a spot where Aemond had kissed her. “You told him, now tell me.”

“Very well,” he sighed. His harsh face fell, and she swore she could see his eyes glistening. “The babe is breech. It should emerge head-first, but it is not. It’s… the way it is attempting to come out is nearly impossible. Should I not intervene, one or both of you will die.”

No. No, no, no, it wasn’t fair. To suffer for this long, to endure what she endured, only for her child to enter the world wrong? In a way that would kill them? She had always been good and devout. She prayed and studied holy texts, listened to her Septas and the Maesters, and avoided sin at all costs. Then why was she being punished?

Unless… the gods had not sent this to punish her.

Aemond had abandoned her and their marriage – their holy union – when he slept with Alys. It would be fitting, and very like the gods, for him to lose that which he had forsaken. She and her second son were merely instruments of punishment. But it wasn’t fair.

“There is nothing you can do?” She felt hollow as Artos continued to look at her in pity.

The warrior-maester looked as if he were about to cry, as well. “In these situations, it is usually asked of the father whom he would rather save.”

So that was why Artos left the room – to ask Aemond whether to save her or the child.

“Who did he choose?” Either answer would devastate her. He would either prove the fragility of his love for her, or he would willingly break her heart by killing their son. Whatever he chose, he would become a kinslayer thrice over.

“He… he did not, your highness.”

“What?”

“I explained the situation, and he stormed in here – to you. When he left, he said nothing. He just ran. I presumed he had…” But he hadn’t. Had not said a word about the peril she and their son were now in.

A coward. Too frightened to maintain his vows of marriage. Too weak to admit his wrongdoing. Too cowardly to even make this most crucial of decisions. The gods damn him.

If they hadn’t already.

“So… what will you do?” If she had to be the one to make the decision, so be it.

“There are three options.” None of them were very good, she knew, simply by looking at his forlorn face. She had thought him a grave man when she first saw him. Now, he looked mournful – a reluctant harbinger of death. “I can forcibly remove the child, more than likely killing it in the process. I can attempt to save it and, in so doing, certainly kill you. Or we can proceed with the birth, risking killing both of you and pray that the gods may be merciful.”

Such a choice – a decision of life and death – should be difficult. It should tear away at the soul to condemn another. It should be far beyond the limits of the heart or mind.

But it was easy.

“Save him,” she whispered. “Let me die.”

Artos frowned deeply, shook his head, and said something in return, but she did not listen – she could not and would not hear his words. She only vaguely saw him move to the end bed, ripping away the sleeve of his robes as he barked orders at the maid and midwives. Perhaps the gods were merciful to dull her senses now so she could pass peacefully.

What did it matter if she died now?

She will have fulfilled her duty and given her husband his heirs. Finding a new wife would be easy – what woman would not want to marry him? Even if news of Alys spread beyond the walls of Harrenhal, surely it was nothing in exchange for a crown. Aemond would have everything he needed to be king.

If she lived, what sort of life would it be? To raise one son while constantly mourning the other. To be the wife of a man she could no longer trust. To remain empty, a shell of her former self. She would be alive, but she would still be a ghost.

“Save him,” she said again, her voice fading.

It was easier this way. Hadn’t she already learned that it was easier not to fight? Letting Aemond take care of her was easier than fighting him. Perhaps it would be easier to let him care for the children, too. He would love them enough that they would not feel her absence.

Distantly, she felt pressure between her legs, then heard her firstborn son cry out to echo her own screams.

Her son.

Oh, he had no name.

She couldn’t leave him motherless and without a name.

Months ago, she had decided on names, but they were hard to remember now. What was it? She could grant him this one last gift. She just needed to remember…

“Daeron.”

Yes. It had been her brother’s name. Her kind, brave, daring brother. He died some months ago. There had been a battle. Why was her little brother fighting? He was too young for that.

Tendrils of pale mist crept into the edges of her vision, playfully willing her to sleep.

Once she was gone, Daeron—her Daeron—would have a little brother, too. He would need a name as well—a strong name, a courageous name. When she was dead, he would need courage.

“Aenar.”

A strong name. With courage enough to forge a new beginning.

There. Names for her sons, the little princes.

With that last parting gift, she could close her eyes at last.

Goodbye, she tried to say.

I love you, my children.

Be kind to each other.

Love each other always.

Goodbye.

The mist filled her vision, illuminated by a distant light. It was cool, like a late spring morning. She did not hurt anymore. Did not feel anything but an overwhelming sense of peace.

The distant light faded.

The mist darkened.

Through it, she swore she could see grass-green eyes and hear the faraway cry of a babe.

She was still screaming. Good.

Screaming meant she was still alive. Screaming meant Alys was fulfilling her promise. Screaming meant that Aemond was racing back to his wife – his living, breathing, beloved wife – and not her corpse.

The door was still locked when he arrived—one final obstacle between him and his family.

No, not final. Far from it. The door was the only tangible thing keeping him from his wife and children, yes, but there was far more beyond it. The pain he caused her, the hatred his ābrazȳrītsos now surely felt for him, and the third child that would soon be born still kept them as far apart as the earth and stars.

They would get past it. They had to. They were siblings, husband and wife, now destined to become King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. They were meant for each other. The gods or fate or whatever else had made her for him and him for her.

They were two parts of the same whole, cleaved.

“Prince Aemond.”

Cregan Stark, the man who humiliated him and his wife mere hours ago, stood behind him. Aemond snarled. “Leave. Now.”

Stark stood strong and still. “You have been my enemy. You may be still, I have not decided. I have no admiration nor respect for you, my prince. In short, I do not like you.”

“Do you want me to kill you?” Aemond asked. He did not wish to greet his sons with blood-soaked hands, but if Stark didn’t close his fucking mouth –

“To lose the woman you love so dearly in this way… it is a pain I know all too well and one I would not wish on anyone. I have instructed all my men to pray for the Princess and the child, and I will join them soon. Negotiations will be postponed indefinitely.”

“I…” Perhaps Aemond had underestimated the brute, if he was a brute at all. And though he knew the prayers were unnecessary, gratitude still dulled his rage. “Thank you, Lord Stark.”

He simply inclined his head and walked away, leaving Aemond leaning against that godsdamned door, listening to nothing but the sound of his own panting breath.

Oh gods.

He froze.

The screaming was gone.

It was silent.

Was she dead?

Had Alys betrayed him?

He would kill her. He would tear her apart with his own hands and –

A child cried.

Then…

Oh, thank each and every god a thousand times over.

For then, Aemond heard his wife laughing.

“Princess?”

She always expected that the voice of the Father would be deep and smooth, but shouldn’t it be the Mother to greet her, given how she died? And shouldn’t the gods greet her by name, not her title?

“Princess, it is time to wake up,” the voice said again. “Open your eyes for me.”

Oh, her eyes were closed. She should open them.

The Heavens were not as bright as she imagined, nor as golden. They were dark and sparsely decorated and looked very much like –

“I am not dead?”

Maester Artos looked down at her and smiled. It reminded her of the few times she had seen her father smile at her, sparking a warmth in her chest she had not felt for years. She had not known she still remembered those smiles. “I am very happy to say you are not, your highness.”

“But, my son – ”

“He lives, too.”

It couldn’t be. After all the suffering of the past year, she could not believe it could be true. Loss had become a certainty, as sure as the sun rising each morning.

A babe cried, and she turned toward the sound. A young maid was wrapping an infant boy with a shock of white curls in a cobalt blue blanket. Daeron.

A different, softer cry came from the other end of the room. There, another boy with only a smattering of silver wisps atop his head was being gently cleaned by a Septa. Aenar.

Her sons – alive and well and here.

She threw her head back against the pillows and laughed.

She laughed with joy and relief, with eight months of eager waiting and sickness. She laughed with a body nearly dead, saved only by some miracle she did not understand. And she laughed with a heart that was both shattered and overflowing.

This was the moment she had dreamed of since she learned she was pregnant, since the moment she married Aemond. She had dreamed of this all her life. It was her destiny, even if it was vastly different from how she had dreamed it. For she was not at home in the Red Keep but within the cursed stones of Harrenhal. Her mother was not by her side but miles away. The family that was supposed to crowd around her and coo over the children were nearly all dead. And her husband…

“Let me in!” he shouted through the door, the wood pounding against stone as he threw himself against it. He had been doing that before, but she did not notice until now. It was so like him, the impatience and need to act, that she laughed again. “Ābrazȳrītsos! Is that you? Tell me you are safe!”

Taking her laughter as permission, Artos opened the door. It was mere heartbeats later that Aemond was upon the bed, his eye flitting over every inch of her, his hands roaming to try and locate something wrong, to stem blood that did not flow or relieve pain that did not exist.

“I’m fine,” she said, breathless. “I did it, lēkia, and I’m fine.”

“You did it?” He looked down at her in utter disbelief and joy before his eye drifted to the Maester. Tears slipped from his eye and caught the light of the setting sun. “She did it…”

Her gaze went to the maid that held her firstborn – the girl with eyes like her mother’s. Fitting, for her to be the one to hold him. But it was her turn. “Bring Daeron to me,” she ordered,” some strength at last returning to her voice. “I want to hold him.”

Aemond stared at her. “Daeron?”

Was he angry that she named their sons without him? She couldn’t quite tell. Her mind was still fuzzy, like the mist she had seen still lay over her, casting everything in a sweet, happy light. She shrugged. “There are already too many Aegons, so…”

He laughed. She had missed that sound – she loved it so dearly. He settled into the bed next to her, their bodies fitting together perfectly, like two halves of a broken plate. So many familiar feelings – the warmth of his arm around her, the rhythm of his heart, his lips kissing her temple in the gentle way that always sent shivers down her spine. Hadn’t her spine hurt not long ago? “Daeron is perfect.”

Indeed, he was absolutely perfect. So tiny and precious as he was put in her arms, looking up at his parents with wide lilac eyes. Neither she nor Aemond said anything as they beheld him, taking in each tiny, perfect detail. The wild curls of his silver hair. Each and every eyelash framing his bright eyes. The pink of his lips. Fingers and toes so wonderfully soft and small. A toothless smile that lit the world.

“He’s going to be king someday,” she realized aloud. How could someone so tiny rule an entire kingdom? He had a lot of growing to do before the Conqueror’s Crown would fit.

“A great king, I think,” Aemond mused. He held out a finger, and Daeron instinctively wrapped his hand around it. “Wise and strong. Daring, like his namesake.”

“He must be kind, too.”

“He will be,” Aemond assured, brushing out her damp, tangled hair with his fingers. The feeling was so familiar, but each touch had her flinching slightly. “We will raise him to be kind. His brother, too.”

“Aenar.”

Aemond stiffened. Had he forgotten they had another son, or did he not like the name she gave him? He pulled his finger back from his son’s fist to touch the babe’s hair. “The Exile?”

“I just thought…” Perhaps it had been a foolish name. But it had felt right when it came to her, when she was on the brink of death. “Our family needs a new beginning.”

“Yes… I suppose it does.” He kissed her again with slightly too much pressure. “Another fine name.”

She looked at the Septa that had been cleaning him. Maester Artos stood with her now, along with several other women, crowding so much she could not see the babe. “I want to hold him, too. Bring him to me.”

None of them moved. The room fell silent.

“Allow me just a moment longer, princess,” Artos said. His voice shook, and he would not look at her or Aemond. “I am still finishing my assessment of the boy.”

He’s dead, her mind insisted. They saved your life at the cost of his. He died because of you.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”

Daeron began fussing in her arms, disturbed by how she began to tremble. She failed one son by killing him, and now she was already failing as a mother to the one who survived. Aemond tightened his arm on her shoulders, pulling her closer as his free arm gently lifted their son into his own grasp.

He hushed her, ducking his head to press his cheek to hers. “Lykirī, ābrazȳrītsos. Izūgō daor īlo bēvili gō.” Calm, little wife. Do not panic before we have reason to.

“Kostan daor,” she whimpered. If Aenar was dead…

“Is he alive?” Aemond’s hand moved to shelter Daeron’s head as if to shield him from whatever danger or heartbreak lurked. She turned to press herself into him – into the safety of his arms.

Brother. Husband. Protector.

Why did the feel and scent of him no longer make her feel safe?

“Yes, my prince,” Artos answered.

“Will he remain that way?”

“Yes…”

“You could tell me he’s green-skinned and winged for all I care.” His arm curled protectively around her, but it did not comfort her. Rather, she bristled against it, the possessiveness of it. He did not notice. “He’s alive, and that’s enough. Bring him.”

Artos hesitated but obeyed, hastily wrapping the babe in a dark blanket.

He looked whole – unbroken. Aenar’s eyes were closed as the Maester placed him in her arms, but she could feel his warmth, his little heart beating, and the faint rise and fall of his chest. He only woke when a tear fell from her cheek onto his.

Even then, he did not cry. He only looked at his mother with bright eyes – the same shade of violet as his father's and brother’s. “Ñuha trēso,” she whispered, and he smiled. My son.

“Taobosa sylv��se,” Aemond added. “He already recognizes the language of his ancestors. He will serve his brother well. Dārys sepār Ondoso zȳhon.” Wise boy. The King and his Hand.

They had two perfect sons. So why did Artos still look like that?

The Maester’s frown deepened. “I am afraid…” he cleared his throat. “It appears that the younger prince was injured during the birth.”

She examined him again but could find nothing wrong. He was perfect. Surely, Artos was mistaken.

“May I?” His large hand hovered over the edge of the blanket.

Her instinct was to pull away, to not let this man touch her son. Yes, he had saved both their lives, but he must be wrong now. Why should she let him make a problem where there was none?

She suppressed that instinct and allowed him to uncover Aenar’s right arm. Artos’ demeanor had made it seem as though something was horribly wrong – that the arm would be missing or deformed. But it was just an arm, small and plump and pale, with a splotch of reddish-purple covering the shoulder like a pauldron.

“It… is it a birthmark?” She brushed a thumb over it, the skin smooth but slightly raised. A birthmark wasn’t an injury, nor was it exceedingly unusual. There were several families where such a mark appeared on nearly every child born.

“Explain yourself, Artos,” Aemond hissed. He looked ready to tear the man to pieces. If he did, he would likely do so without even setting Daeron down.

With a sigh, Artos ran a finger down the length of Aenar’s arm. “Note how he gives no reaction.”

“So he is calm,” Aemond spat. “I fail to see the injury.”

“Do the same to the elder.” He repeated the touch. “Gently, my prince.”

Aemond obeyed with a scowl. The moment he touched the babe, Daeron squirmed and flailed his arm.

“But he looks fine.” She looked down at her second son, her wise boy, and held out a finger, as Aemond had with Daeron. Aenar’s left arm squirmed within its wrappings, but the right was still. She touched the arm, silently pleading with the gods for it to move, for that tiny hand to reach for her.

It remained still. A desperate noise escaped her. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aemond and Artos said in unison. Her husband attempted to pull her into his chest, but she pushed him away. An embrace could not fix this. Nothing could. He did not pursue her again.

“It is not uncommon among children born breech.” the Maester explained. “I have seen many such injuries and many even worse.”

Artos offered no sympathy or apologies, and she was thankful for it. There was nothing he could say to ease the pain of knowing that her son would never be whole, just like his father. But unlike Aemond, he was never even given the chance, wounded from his first breath. What would the people call him? ‘Prince Aenar One-Arm, son of King Aemond One-Eye?’

“What do we do?” She asked her husband, the Maester, the gods. Anyone who may have an answer.

Aemond’s face was drawn with grief – for his son and for himself. “He will adapt, as I did. I will ensure it. He will be stronger for this. I promise.”

I cannot trust your promises.

The thought was a sudden gale of icy wind scattering the lovely mist coating her mind into oblivion, leaving her with only stark, wicked reality and the faint memory of green eyes.

“How did I survive?”

Too quickly, Aemond turned to her, taking hold of her chin and pulling her close to him. “It does not matter, ābrazȳrītsos. All that does is that you are still with me. You and Aenar.”

If he wasn’t holding her firstborn, she would have shoved him from the bed.Liar. Liar. Liar.

I will fix this. he’d said before he left her. The pure, unrelenting anger she felt as she watched him leave had prevented her from considering what those words meant. Now, she could think of nothing else. What could he do? He was no midwife nor Maester. He had no knowledge of childbirth, beyond the few questions he’d asked of Orwyle months ago. What could he have done for her and Aenar except beg the help of another?

Of Alys.

Alys, who had eyes the color of fresh grass and possessed a dark magic that allowed her visions of the future. Was she also able to influence that future?

How?

At what cost?

What had Aemond promised her in exchange for their lives?

“No Maester wants to admit to ignorance,” Artos smiled sadly as Aenar continued to try to wriggle his left arm free of his blanket, “but I cannot explain it. All I can think is that the gods are kind to you, princess, and for that, I am glad.”

She could not look at him or any of the others in the room who watched her as if they could see the Mother’s hand upon her shoulder.

The gods weren’t kind. They were cruel to allow her to now owe her very life, and that of her son’s, to the two people who had destroyed her. Would she ever be able to look upon Aenar and not remember? To not feel her soul torn between unyielding hatred and infinite gratitude?

Yet, she had her life – and her sons. Surely anything was worth that.

Wasn’t it?

“I’m tired,” she said. The day had seemed to last a year, and the sun had not even set. “I want to rest now.”

After what she endured, no one argued.

His ābrazȳrītsos fell asleep mere moments after Daeron and Aenar were settled into their cradles. She did not even wake when Aemond lifted her so the servants could replace the soiled bedding. Just as she had so many times before, she tucked her face into his neck as they sat in the window, sighing contentedly. Now, he lay beside her in the bed, trying to memorize how it felt to have her in his arms.

When she woke, he knew she would never allow him to hold her like this again.

She knew. Somehow, his wife knew what he had done to ensure she and Aenar survived, and she would never forgive him for it for as long as she lived.

But she would live.

Aenar would live. Though he would bear the wounds of his father’s sins forever.

After his wife had fallen asleep, Maester Artos had told him that it would likely be necessary to amputate Aenar’s arm. The purple mark on his shoulder had grown, apparently indicating further bleeding within the limb. If it grew much more before morning, the arm would be removed before midday.

It was his fault, Aemond knew.

Alys had told him that in her visions, both boys had been healthy. But that was before his ābrazȳrītsos knew that he betrayed her. Before he brought her to this cursed place. Before he failed to stop her from meeting Alys and learning the full extent of his sins.

He only hoped Aenar would not grow to hate him for it.

For now, the boy slept in his crib, limp arm hidden beneath the dark blanket he was swaddled in. Aemond rose from the bed, moving closer to his son.

How peaceful he looked now, with the redness of his skin finally faded. He did not have as much hair as his older brother, but his was wilder - more reminiscent of his mother’s curls than his father’s straight locks. At least he had that part of her, if not the warm brown eyes Aemond had hoped for.

In the other cradle, Daeron fussed slightly, though he did not wake. It seemed he resented being confined within the tight swaddle of his blanket. The thought made Aemond smile, remembering how his younger brother once did the same. It faded quickly.

He had to go to Alys. To thank her for giving him his family - a kindness he did not deserve. To say goodbye to the child he would never meet. Another cost he would force himself to pay.

He had to go now, while his ābrazȳrītsos slept.

“Before our wedding,” he whispered, careful not to wake her as he approached, “I promised to hold you every night I could, that I would do anything to return to you when I was away. I have failed to uphold that promise, and for that, I am so sorry.”

When he stroked her cheek, she turned into his touch, a small smile upon her lips. Seeing that some unconscious part of her still reacted to him with love warmed his heart, even as the knowledge that her conscious mind would never allow her to do so felt like a dagger buried in his gut.

Aemond knelt at her side, basking in her beauty, memorizing her peaceful face. “Now, I swear my devotion again. I know you no longer wish for me to hold you, and I promise I will not try to persuade you otherwise. But I swear I will always be with you, to love and protect you, even if I must do it from a distance. I will never fail you again.”

It did not matter that she could not hear his vow. Even if she did, she would not believe him. But he made it anyway, for his own sake, and so the gods, wherever they may be, would hear him. It was to them he spoke next.

“Should I ever harm you again, I pray that the gods will strike me down where I stand. And if they do not, I shall do so myself.” He kissed her brow - the sealing of a promise and a farewell - and left.

A maid shrunk away as she passed Aemond in a corridor deep beneath Harrenhal, cradling the bundle of cloth she carried closer to her chest. It was one of the same maids who had tended to his wife—the young girl with deep brown eyes. She did not wear the clothing of a midwife, but the colors of her linen dress were similar. Perhaps a midwife in training.

Strange, then, for her to be here. Stranger still for her to be seemingly performing the duties of a laundress.

He glanced down at the bundle of cloth she carried and froze.

There was blood. Too much blood.

A young midwife, carrying bedlinens soaked with blood.

What would you sacrifice? Alys had asked.

Aemond ran.

He knew what he would find. There was no other explanation. Yet he still hoped and prayed he was wrong. Loss had followed him like a loyal dog for so long, but today it was banished. It must be.

Alys stood in front of her fire. One hand rested on a stomach that was not as distended as it had been only hours ago.

His wife’s stomach now looked very much the same.

“What did you do?” His voice shook with fear and guilt and shame. Gods, he felt so weak.

Her eyes, cold and distant, slid to his. “What you asked.”

“I didn’t ask you to…” This blood was on his hands - the blood of his child.

The word that had haunted him for more than a year - the word that had nearly led to the death of every person he ever loved - echoed in his mind.

Kinslayer.

Killer of his nephew. His uncle. His child.

Aemond looked back into the corridor, hoping to see the young midwife again. Had he not looked closely enough? Had she been carrying the body of his child within those bloody linens?

“I only wanted you to save my wife and son.” His words were a justification, a plea. It fell on the deaf ears of the gods and the dead child’s mother.

“And you thought there would be no cost?” Alys laughed, cruel and cackling. “No god in the world is so generous as to save a life and ask for nothing in exchange, boy.”

“I didn’t think – ”

“You never do.”

Grief morphed into anger. Reckless, aimless, dangerous rage. “You should have told me!”

“What would you have done?” She faced him fully now, her hand falling to her side. There was no trace of the woman who had once comforted and reassured him - who had kept him sane amidst the insanity of war. There was only annoyance and derision. It reminded Aemond of his dead half-sister and her bastard sons. “If I had told you?”

“I –”

“Would you have left your wife to die? Let her son die?” Alys’ lip curled in a hateful sneer. “You could not choose between wife and son, yet you believe you could have chosen between two sons?”

The world stopped. Only Alys’ flickering fire and burning eyes remained.

“I… it was a boy?” Aemond leaned against the wall, sliding down to his knees, savoring the scrape of the rough stone against his back. He deserved every bit of pain. More.

Alys let a single hint of sorrow slip through her cold façade. “It was. Three sons within a year. What your father would have given to have had the same.”

The last thing Aemond wanted to do was to think about his father. The king who had nearly destroyed his throne by choosing one child over another.

Gods, was he any better?

Did his ignorance of his son’s sacrifice absolve him of blame? The guilt?

It certainly didn’t feel like it.

Alys sighed. “Better for his death to mean something than for his life to be spent destitute and fatherless.”

“I would not have allowed that to happen,” Aemond said. It was a reflex, a reassurance he’d grown used to giving since he learned he seeded a bastard.

“Wouldn’t you? Perhaps if my visions had not changed. But now…” She shook her head, more exasperated than sorrowful. Did she mourn the child at all? “No. You’d have wanted us as far away as possible and done anything you could to not think of us.”

“I would have ensured your comfort.” The words felt as hollow as his chest.

“Your wife would, yes.” Alys smiled fondly, just as she had when his ābrazȳrītsos sat across from her earlier that very day. She had never smiled that way for Aemond. Never truly cared for him. He should have known. “She is kind-hearted. But not you. Your resentment of me, of us, would have festered until you found some way to be rid of us.”

He wanted to deny it. To say that there was nothing that could drive him to do what she insinuated. Once, it would have been true. But now, with the man he’d become in the war and how close he’d come to losing his heart itself, it would be a lie.

If he had killed Alys along with the rest of her cursed family, would he have become this man? Would he have learned to cherish the metallic tang of blood and its warmth as it coated his hands? Would he have become so proficient a liar that false words rolled off his tongue like a Valyrian lullaby? Would he have grown so accustomed to violence that it now came as naturally to him as loving his wife?

Would he have broken his ābrazȳrītsos’s heart?

He’d trusted her visions. It had been a mistake.

One mistake that led to thousands more, and it was all her fault.

Alys was the one who lied, who deceived him. Who had pulled his strings as if he were no more than a puppet, knowing that he was married and his wife was lonely and infirm.

His failure as a husband. His wife’s pain. The death of his third son.

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

Aemond’s heart slowed, his breathing becoming deep and steady. No longer the heart of a broken boy or a desperate husband. Now, it was the blackened heart that had carried him through countless battles and raging rivers of blood.

“I will be rid of you now,” he hissed as he stood. “And I will be rid of you forever.”

The bitch had enough sense to look scared.

“In memory of the son you killed, I will allow you to live. But no more than that.” She didn’t even deserve that, this woman who did not mourn her own child. Perhaps it was good that the babe was gone, for surely he would have suffered with a witch as his mother.

He approached Alys, sneering down at her and the false bravery on her wicked face. “As Prince Regent of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I banish you from these lands forever. You have ten days to leave Westeros. After that, if you are ever seen here again…” He reached out and grabbed her by the throat, holding just tight enough to steal a bit of her breath - just enough to make her fight for it.

“I will kill you myself,” he promised. “Without hesitation or remorse, I will kill you. Slowly. And I will savor every moment, for it will bring me far greater pleasure than that withered cunt of yours ever did.”

She fell to her knees when he released her, clutching at her throat as she coughed and gulped for air. He didn’t care. He only turned on his heel and left, not sparing a single glance at the woman who had only hours ago been carrying his bastard child.

Only one woman mattered now, had ever truly mattered to him.

His ābrazȳrītsos was still asleep when he returned to their chamber, as were their sons. They had no idea where he had gone - that he had even left at all. No inkling of the fact that a moment ago, he had again become the man who wiped an entire bloodline from the earth, slaughtered tens of thousands, and delighted in the suffering he had wrought.

Now, as he leaned down to gently kiss his sons’ brows and muss their soft hair, he was a mere man of twenty, his heart bursting with love and affection for his family. How could a heart overflow with such love at the same moment it was fracturing with grief and regret?

It was a question far beyond him at that moment. Perhaps forever beyond his reach.

He was so tired. Too tired to consider the heartbreak that would come when he woke in the morning and his wife pulled out of his grasp. He could face that pain when it came. But now, he needed to feel whole, if only for a few hours.

So, Aemond climbed into bed with his wife, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her into his chest. He remained awake only long enough to kiss the top of her head and whisper, “Jāla tetan, ābrazȳrītsos. Īlon lentot selagon kosti.” It is over, ābrazȳrītsos. We can go home.

She woke to the sound of Daeron fussing. Strange how quickly she was able to tell them apart, even just by their little noises of discontentment. Although, considering she had been with them every moment of the last seven - near eight - months, it may not be strange at all. Perhaps that was why she felt so sure that it had been Daeron who occupied the top of her belly, constantly pestering her with his tiny fists pounding against her at the most inopportune times.

“Hush, little prince,” a soft voice said. “You’ll wake up your mother, and after what you and your brother put her through, I dare say she needs her rest.” A maid was speaking to him, a slight, old woman leaning over his crib. She had not seen the maid before, and somehow, it comforted her.

Daeron continued to grumble. She moved to stand but found Aemond’s arms wrapped around her waist. Thankfully, he was still asleep. Quite deeply asleep, apparently, for when she untangled herself from him, he did not wake.

The maid curtsied when she saw the princess approaching and stepped away from Daeron’s cradle. His fussing had now roused Aenar, but the younger prince made no sound, only glaring at his brother in what seemed to be intense displeasure at his sleep being interrupted.

“Is something wrong with him?” she asked the old maid. Daeron quieted slightly upon seeing his mother but still fussed.

“Nothing to concern yourself with, princess.” The old maid had a kind, soothing voice - that of a wise grandmother. She looked at the babes with fondness and a hint of apology. “They are simply hungry.”

“Where is the wetnurse?” She immediately regretted asking. In her sleepy haze, she had forgotten that Alys was the wetnurse at Harrenhal. Why wasn’t she here? Did she even want Alys here? No, of course she didn’t. Had Aemond requested another be found so she would not have to see Alys again?

The old maid looked away, sighing. “I’m afraid she’s left us. No wonder why, poor thing lost her babe again. Such a shame. We all thought she’d had a miracle with this one. But not to worry, Maester Artos sent some men to find another girl from the closest village.” She shook her head and again leaned over Daeron’s crib. “You’ll be fed soon, darling prince, don’t you worry.”

Alys’ child - Aemond’s child - was dead?

It was a good thing, wasn’t it? There would be no bastard son of the new king, no living reminder of what he’d done. This was good news. She should be happy, shouldn’t she?

But she wanted to cry.

“Mother, forgive me,” the old maid looked horrified as she clutched her pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star. “I should not have said that, princess. Not when you’ve only just finished your own labors. Please, forgive me.”

She glanced at Aenar, now peacefully asleep once more. How close she had come to losing him. It had devastated her. Made her willing to forfeit her own life if only he could live. If she had lost him and had to live with that loss… it would have driven her mad.

“How…” she licked her lips. “How many children has she lost?”

The old maid dropped her pendant. “I do not know, exactly. Enough that we all stopped counting.”

Oh gods. She blinked to clear her eyes, wiping away an errant tear with her thumb. “You said she’s gone?”

“Yes, princess. She left in the night. Didn’t say where she was going, to my knowledge.”

It made no sense. If Aemond had struck a bargain with Alys to save her and Aenar’s lives, why would she leave? Had whatever he offered her not been enough to keep her in the place where she’d lost so many children?

Daeron cried again, his face reddened and wrinkled. He was so hungry, she could nearly feel it herself. She… she could feel it. When she looked down at herself, she saw two dark stains on her chemise right above her breasts. Her milk had finally come in, which meant -

“I can feed them.”

The old maid looked aghast. “Princess, there is no need - ”

“I want to do it.” She was their mother, why shouldn’t she be the one to feed them? It was her body that made them, that brought them into the world. It made sense that it would continue to care for them even now. “Can you show me how?”

It took a moment for the maid to close her mouth before she smiled gently. “I’ve raised nine children myself, princess. I think I know a few tricks.”

The maid had gone by the time Aemond woke.

Daeron was still suckling at her left breast while Aenar had fallen asleep using the right as his pillow. She had not realized how heavy and uncomfortable they had felt until the boys had drunk from her, easing the pressure that she’d become accustomed to.

“You should not be doing that yourself,” Aemond muttered as he raised himself on an elbow. His eye darted from son to son, only ever glancing over her exposed breasts. Once, he loved to worship them, quite similarly to how his sons fed from her now. “Where is the wetnurse?”

Did he not know that Alys had left? Had no one told him of the death of his child?

No. Those were the faint remnants of tear tracks lining his cheeks, and there was a deep sadness in his eye that was not there when he held his sons for the first time. He knew. He knew, and he was grieving, though he was fighting to hide it. She still saw it.

Perhaps that was the real reason he never returned to King’s Landing during the war - he knew she would be able to see the guilt on his face.

“There is no other wetnurse,” she explained gently. “Alys left. They’re looking for another woman now.”

Aemond froze, his gaze growing distant. She could not decipher his expression. Rage? Guilt? Sorrow? Grief?

“I’m sorry, Aemond.” He frowned and shook his head, but she continued. “Truly, I am.”

“It’s better this way,” he whispered. He didn’t believe it. Neither did she.

He reached out to her. No, not to her, but to Aenar, gently stroking his hair. She allowed him to take the babe and hold him against his own chest.

Aenar opened his eyes and looked up at his father. Then, he smiled.

Aemond took in a deep breath. “That boy should never have existed,” he said, letting Aenar take hold of his thumb and mouth at it. “I already had what I needed. And wanted.”

So it was a boy. Another son. A brother for her own. Would he have had his father’s nose, as Daeron did? Or his stern brow, like Aenar? Gods, why did she care?

“You are allowed to mourn him. He was innocent. I bear him no ill will.” Bastard or no, a babe was a babe, blameless of his parents’ sins. Deep in her heart, she mourned him, as well.

Again, Aemond shook his head. “I cannot mourn what never should have been.” He turned his head to face her, face open and pleading. “And I am mourning too much already.”

“I am alive. Aenar is alive. There is nothing to mourn.”

“You know that is not what I mean, ābrazȳrītsos.”

She did. He mourned not for the loss of a life, but for the loss of their life. The life they should have shared, and would have, had Aemond not strayed. In truth, she mourned for it, too.

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Daeron finally finished feeding, stretching his little arms to push her breast away. She pulled her robe closed again to combat the chill.

Aemond raised a hand to help her. She flinched away. He winced in response.

“Ābrazȳrītsos, please.” His voice was already breaking, his eye watering. The sight should have tugged at her heart. His begging should have fanned the flames of her anger. But looking at him, she felt very little of anything, save a small seed of pity. “Alys is gone. My… the bastard is gone. Can we not return to the way we were? Pretend none of this ever happened? Can’t you forgive me at last?”

The answer came without hesitation.

“No, Aemond.”

Within her, there was no longer a grassland, barren with loneliness and despair. The never-ending field of raging fire had also vanished. In its place was a small, lush garden, safely contained within tall stone walls draped with flowers and a polished iron gate – locked firmly, but perhaps not sealed forever.

“I shall always be your sister, your blood, and the mother of your children.” Daeron cooed, as if he knew she was talking about him, and she could not help but smile down at him. “I will remain your wife in the eyes of gods and men. And when Aegon dies, I will be your faithful queen.”

Aemond shook as his breath quickened, failing to keep the heartbreak. ���You will be a wonderful queen, ābrazȳrītsos. I know it.”

She pulled away, taking Aenar from him and into her empty arm. “But I will never again be your ābrazȳrītsos.” She forced herself to ignore the whimpering, broken cry that escaped him, the breath that carried it echoing like a death rattle. “I will not share your bed. And I will no longer allow you to hold my heart.”

Between desperate sobs, Aemond raised his head to face her. Utter devastation lay in his eye, but so too did acceptance. Anguished surrender. “My heart is and always shall be yours.”

I don’t want it, her mind told her, even as her heart cried, I will cherish it forever.

But her decision was made. In all but name, their marriage – their once legendary romance – was finished. A few fragments of love remained but would never be repaired. Could never be.

Slowly, she rose from the bed, her sons still in her arms. Aemond began to reach for her, but when she did not even acknowledge him, he covered his face with his hands and wept. Though it tugged at her heart, it was the same she would feel for any man weeping so, no longer the instinctive pull of a wife. She did not comfort him.

The soft, pitiful sounds of Aemond’s grief faded as she walked toward the eastern window, settling herself in the cushioned seat just beneath it.

Daeron smiled, watching the trembling branches of an oak tree dotted with the first tight green buds of the season. Aenar angled his head just so, until the sun warmed every bit of his fat, pink face, then promptly fell asleep. She sighed, taking in the sweet scent of spring on the wind, and realized she had not breathed so easily in months.

It was a lovely morning in Harrenhal.

[kotoku]

hiii ! Can I req an aventurine and/or doctor ratio x reader (fic or headcanons is fine) where reader hides how they feel about stuff and they’ve been struggling and one day aventurine walks in on them breaking down? Things have been rough lately lmao, thank you !!

ᴅʀ ʀᴀᴛɪᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ꜱ/ᴏ ᴡʜᴏ'ꜱ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ

pairings - aventurine x reader / veritas ratio x reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/ established relationship/ reader has been going through it/ reader ends up having a break down/ angst with comfort/ comfort fic

warnings - a bit of self harm, swearing

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

You were never the type of person to show your vulnerable side to people, no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t.

You never wanted anyone to feel the weight of the burden that was placed on your shoulders. The weight that would only continue to build up until you eventually succumbed and suffocated beneath it. It was something only you would have to deal with, and you made sure of that, keeping those you loved at a distance so they’d never see your deteriorating mental state.

So when Aventurine came home early one night to find you a sobbing mess in your shared bedroom, you were terrified. How could you let this happen? How could you do this to him?

You sobbed harder, hands gripping your arms with such strength that would leave bruises later on.

He quickly knelt beside you, hands shaking as he tried racking his brain on what to do. 

Think Aventurine, think.

Gently placing his arms around you, he shakily whispered reassurances.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

“What happened, My Love? You can tell me anything, everything.”

“I’ll always be here by your side, I’ll never leave you.”

Eventually, you had calmed down enough to where your sobs were reduced to sniffles. You couldn’t cry anymore, even if you felt like it. There were no tears left for you to shed, only hiccups and broken sentences. 

“I’m sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing, _____?” 

“Because…” You looked at him with red, puffy eyes. “I… I let this happen. I let you see this side of me that I never wanted anyone to see, you to see.” You looked down at your arms, purple and blue dotting your skin as remnants of where you were gripping. “I never want to place the burden I feel..onto others.”

In the silence, Aventurine could hear his own heart breaking all over again. How hadn’t he noticed your suffering? How could he have let this happen? He enveloped you in a hug, one that wasn’t too tight or loose. He couldn’t let you go, no matter what, he would never let you go.

“_____…” Aventurine felt tears of his own well up in his eyes, head burying into the crook of your neck. “You are never a burden, how could I ever think of you as such..?” You felt your eyes sting, closing them shut as your arms came to rest around his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry for not noticing sooner, for not being there…” You wanted to protest, to tell him that he was wrong, but you only shook your head, voice much too weak to talk. He held you closer, his tears dripping onto your shirt. The two of you stayed that way for a long while, the clock ticking closer to midnight.

Eventually, Aventurine released you from his firm hold, rubbing his eyes as he sniffled. 

“_____…” 

You looked up at him with tired eyes. “Yes..Aven?” 

He held out his pinky, signaling for you to interlock your own with his. “Please. Please promise me that..you’ll tell me if there’s something wrong… I’ll be here to listen to your problems, no matter how big or small they may seem… You are so important to me, to others…” You raised your pinky.

“I promise.”

Aventurine smiled, his eyes slightly puffy and wet with unshed tears. “I love you so, so very much, _____.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, a sob stuck in your throat as you brought him into another hug. 

“I love you too, Aven.” 

Just for him, you will try your hardest to never tread alone, for he will always be by your side no matter what.

Veritas Ratio was never an emotional person, always choosing to remain calm and composed. However, that did not mean he did not care, for he was always expressive in his own ways when it came to you. 

You knew the doctor loved you dearly, so much so that he would do anything for you if it meant you being safe by his side. And yet, he did not know of the burdens that dug into your skin, the fear of showing your vulnerability acting as shackles as it anchored you deeper into dark waters. No matter how hard you tried to swim up for air, you would only get dragged back down, the surface just out of reach for your battered hands. 

Again, and again, and again. A repeating cycle that just became a part of your routine. 

You could handle yourself just fine during the day, but when night came, so did the problems you tried so hard to bury. To avoid disturbing Veritas’s sleep, you would slowly creep out of your shared bedroom into the bathroom, staring lifelessly into the mirror as you let the cold water run in the sink. 

Some nights were rougher than others, the tears that you tried to suppress spilling over to mix with the running tap water, the sound of it silencing your sobs. However, it also silenced the approaching footsteps coming towards the bathroom door that was left ajar, a soft gasp startling you as your eyes darted to the entrance. 

Shit. 

You splashed the cold water into your face, attempting to mask the tears that you were previously shedding. 

“Veritas..I–”

“_____, what happened?” 

Your hands gripped the towel that you were drying your face with, tears dotting the corners of your eyes as you inhaled a shaky breath.

“..Nothing..happened. I was just having some difficulty sleeping…” You mustered a smile. Yet it never reached your eyes, he noted with a sigh.

“You don’t have to lie to me, _____.” His arms crossed over his chest, eyes softening as they gazed into your puffy ones. “If there’s something bothering you..I’m here to listen.”

You couldn’t hold your smile anymore, eyes beginning to water as you avoided his gaze. 

“I just… It’s been rough recently.” Tears fell down your face as you thought about all the problems that weighed on your mind. “Work hasn’t been the greatest and all these things are happening– I’m just..a mess.” Staring at yourself in the mirror, you felt a wave of exhaustion hit you once more. “A mess…” 

Veritas tilted your chin so that you were facing him, his eyes full of emotions but concern was prominent. “_____, you don’t need to face these problems alone. As your partner, it is my duty to offer my support and care. You are my utmost priority.” His words filled your heart with so much love for the man, you could feel yourself beginning to cry harder. 

“I love you so much… Thank you..Veri.” 

“Of course, _____. I love you too, never forget that.” 

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - i hope these drabbles provide a bit of comfort for you and that things get better for you anon! :) stay safe and healthy everyone.

[the-faceless-bride]

Some Of my current ideas and obsession Blurbs (if you find any of them interesting, I'm open to hearing ideas 👀👀)

Imagine being a demon...

Imagine Part of your power has to do with death, corruption, and seeing who someone was when they were alive... as a demon, the death of Rengoku Kyojuro broke you. He was such a beautiful, loving, caring man. Giving such an unfair and unfortunate death... you just couldn't accept this...

Imagine You bring him back as he springs up after your ritual. His hair was a mess, covered in dirt, his clothes ripped. He gasps for air as if it was the first he's had in centuries... "Poor unfortunate soul, so sad, in need... come allow me to give you a second chance."

Imagine His horror. Him. Now a Demon. Tethered to you. Unable to die again unless you give him permission to do so... he tired. Sat in the sun. But while he felt weak and itchy, he didn't die. He hated it. Hated himself. He hated you. You who, while yes, didn't have malicious intent. Who gave him a second chance at 'life' as you called this... you who brought him back and unlike when he was alive in his final moments felt no pain, no hunger, he hated you.

Imagine slowly helping him come to terms with his eternal life. From Enemies (one sided) to Lovers letting him stay with you in your small hidden village of other demon families that have also been brought back and tethered to you. Still fulfilling his dreams, taking down the demons who "lost their humanity and deserved their eternity to end."

Imagine the conflict you face, when His once friends and found family find him... a demon... still classic Kyojuro but yet so different... what do you do? An angry group of Hashira Pillars cursing you for what you did to their friend. Kyojuro broken and ashamed of what he is once more at the heart break of his friends being scared of him, some of them hating him all together...

Imagine him calling out to you, help him. Make them listen. Please. His Angel... his little firefly... please make them understand. He can't bare the way they look at him... help him... he needs you.

Rengoku Kyojuro × demon Reader Trope: Enemies to lovers

Now also Imagine being a demon...

Imagine being a demon who was so desperately, hopelessly, in love with Gyomei Himejima. Hopelessly devoted to a man who didn't even know you existed. You watched him at night, singing your sweet song and lulling him to a deeper sleep each night. Wishing nothing more than to one day be able to caress and memorize every inch of his mind, body, and soul. Wishing to kiss his soft looking lips...

Imagine desperately trying to deny what you know is true... you've heard it from your fellow demon 'friend' over and over again. And tonight, you were desperately trying to hold on to your dreams... "[name] just face it... he's a Demon slayer. A hashira. And to him, you're a monster... that something no amount of love is going to change. You'd be better off not thinking about him anymore. If you really love him, you'd let him go... besides a pretty human girl will probably catch his attention sooner or later..." You hang your head as tears fill your eyes, it's not true... it's not. He could love you. He could...

Imagine one day, you run into him in the Forest. The Forrest trees are so thick that the completely block out the sun, it's only a small section of the Forest. You liked to come here to lay in the flowers, and apparently Gyomei had thought the same...

Imagine He needed a quiet place, today had been a very hectic day. No peace and quiet today at all. He'd simply sat under a particularly large tree, focusing on his breath. You'd sat so unbelievably still. Not wanting to move and risk ruining this perfect moment. You were so close. You'd never been this close to him before and it made every part of your cold body ache.

Imagine accidently rustling the flowers catching his attention instantly, and he jumps to stand in a defensive position. You quickly kneel head pressing to the ground as you apologize for disturbing him, and not wanting any trouble. But oddly he doesn't attack you and instead he apologizes for startling you. At first you were confused. But then it clicked, you Had not attacked him like a demon would. He's blind. He doesn't yet realize you're a demon... this was it. Your chance. To speak to him. To hear him address you... to hear him say your name...

Imagine Pretending to be human, making it seem like you were a measly human girl who came here to sit in the flowers to relax... and this was how it went for some time... days turn to weeks, and weeks turn into months. You'd been keeping this secret of yours for 3 months, your love for Gyomei stronger and flame of obsession brighter. And he'd become so open to you. Telling you almost eveeything... sure you'd felt guilty lying to him... but you just couldn't let him. Go...

Imagine one evening, the sun setting, the fireflies and the colorful flowers surrounding you... you gain the courage to confess... stilling your heart of how much you admire him, you know that he way not feel the same way... but even if he'll never belong to you... that's OK, you are happy to just dream and be his dear friend... but to your shock and joy he accepts your confession. He's gained feelings for you. You could almost cry... but then... in an instant the happiness... your happily ever after was ripped away from you in an unfortunate series of events "Dearest... your hands are so cold..." - "GYOMEI!" A his friend Mitsuri calls out her foot steps quickly approaching, more footsteps following behind. "AWAY DISGUSTING MONSTER!" she cries her sword just barley missing you as your arm is severed clean off. And instantly Gyomei's face goes through so many emotions... worry, Confusion, shock and finally realization... and he let's you go. You dash away vanishing... "Gyomei! Are you ok?! That awful creature tricked you! She must've planned to devower you then and there if I hadn't noticed your absence! Are you OK my friend!?" The sounds of other Confused voices all speaking over each other planning to find you... Gyomei thinks of her question... is he OK?... honestly... he doesn't know...

Gyomei Himejima × Demon Reader Trope: unrequited love/Forbidden love

[jiarkives]

home

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — nanami didn’t see himself in kuantan, he saw himself with you.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — nanami kento (jujutsu kaisen)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — angst, major character death

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — i haven’t gotten around to watching the rest of season 2 because of nanami’s death so pls forgive and ignore the inaccuracies 😇 also, reader is shorter/smaller than nanami

~

“Try not to stay overtime tonight,” you chirped as you kissed your husband’s cheek, seeing him out the door as he left for work. “I have a surprise for you.”

“I’ll make sure to be home on time, my love.” He gave you the small but sweet smile he only ever gives you, making you swoon. Even after years of being together, he never fails to bring butterflies in your stomach as he showed his love in so many ways.

As he walked out the door, you can’t help but call him back, “Wait, Ken.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face you. He knew he was going to be late. You knew he liked routines and hated it when they were broken, but that’s you. He would break every routine he has to cater to your needs.

You stepped closer to him and stood on your tiptoes as you placed a soft kiss on his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck. Almost immediately, he kissed you back, his hands on your hips.

When you pulled away, you looked him over, just like you do every time he left for work, but this time, you looked at him longer. This time, you felt compelled to as you whispered, worry flashing over your eyes, “Be careful out there, alright?”

He smiled at you in assurance, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. “I always am careful, my love. I have to get back home to you.”

Hours had passed since then. Nanami scowled as his eyes glanced briefly at his wristwatch. He was supposed to be home to you hours ago, yet here he was, running through the subway station as he exorcised curses left and right.

He was already planning on how to apologize to you when he got home. He was going to buy your favorite bread from the bakery if they were still open by the time he finished and cook for you for the whole week. Then, he abruptly stopped.

~

Nanami stepped into your shared home, the aroma of the food you were cooking immediately hit his senses, causing a smile to grow on his face.

He removed his coat and loosened his tie as he walked over to the kitchen, immediately seeing you in your own element as you cooked dinner for the both of you. He leaned against the wall as he continued watching you with a soft, fond smile on his lips when you turned around and your eyes immediately landed on him.

You glared at him playfully as you pointed the wooden spatula at him, “You’re late.”

“I know, my love, I’m so sorry.” He chuckled lightly as he walked over to you, his arms winding around you to pull you closer to him as he peppered your face in kisses.

“I told you I had a surprise for you.” Your lips curled downward in a small frown.

“I know, honey, I know. It won’t happen again, I promise,” he spoke softly, holding you close to him. “I’m here now, and I’m ready to know what your surprise is.”

~

Nanami breathed heavily, the immense pain shooting through his body with every breath he took. He could slowly feel the life leaving him, but all he could think of was you.

How were you feeling? Were you worried? Will you be okay?

Then, he slowly smiled as he thought, you’ll be okay. You’re strong. Stronger than he ever was, stronger than he will ever be.

He only had enough time to utter your name under his breath adoringly before he was gone.

~

You woke with a start, your heart beating out of your ribcage and sweat forming on your forehead as you lurched forward, sitting up on your bed.

Your arm instinctively reached out to Nanami’s side of the bed only to feel nothing but the cold sheets that haven’t been touched in over a week. You retracted your hand as if it the cloth had burned it despite its coolness.

It had only been a week since the incident, but you could no longer find it in you to cry. All you could do was lay in bed all day as you stared at the wall blankly. At times, you get up to drink a few glasses of cold water before going back to the bedroom.

And every time you step into the room, your eyes fall instinctively, not on Nanami’s untouched side of the bed, but on your nightstand where two pieces of paper lay.

Every time, you move to pick it up, letting your eyes roam the contents of the papers before tossing them back down, leaving the plane tickets abandoned on your nightstand.

Oh, Kuantan, you are nothing but a distant dream now.

[mouthfullofmunson]

More pest Eddie thoughts bc honestly, he’s my dream man!

He leaves little sticky notes all around the house for you 🫶

And yes, a lot of them are sweet like when he leave notes on the mirror “good morning beautiful. Let’s make today amazing. Love, Eddie” with a little shitty heart drawn in the corner

A sticky note on the coffee pot “I’ll be thinking of you all day <3”

Or just random sticky notes around the house to remind you of how much he loves you

But then… there’s the other kind of notes

A sticky note in your panties drawer that reads “wear your sexiest ones and be ready for me”

A sticky note in the shower “nice boobs”

A bite written in the steam on the mirror that just says “put them on my face”

He would randomly sneak up on you when he gets home

Toeing off his shoes and stepping around the creeks in the floors to be a silent as he can before he wraps his arms around you yelling “give me all your money!”

And of course it scares the shit out of you, but luckily he does this kind of shit a lot so you aren’t running around trying to call 911

One time he snuck up on you in the shower and he almost got a broken nose, but luckily it just bled for a couple minutes and it was over

He did not learn his lesson from that and continues to to it…

He complains about your hair all the time

About how it clogs the drain and how he finds it everywhere

But he has no idea the damage his hair does

His is the real reason the drain is always clogged, and he leaves it on the shower wall, and you find wads of it in the laundry, the pockets of your pants, you’d think he’s a cat with how many hairballs of his are laying around

When you guys are walking next to each other he always bumps your shoulder with his and then smiles and looks away with a pink blush on his cheeks no matter how long you’ve been together🫶

When he’s doing literally ANYTHING no matter how experienced either of you are in it he will always fuck it up just a little bit so you’ll come help it

He’s making dinner, which is just a lazy dinner after one of his shows and he’s very experienced in making grilled cheese and frozen French fries

But he purposely burns one side “fuck, babe, can you come help me?” And then the second you get over to the stove he wraps his arms around you with a big smile, shoving his face in your neck

As annoying as he is his goal is always just to see you smile or be closer to you 🥹

Anytime he does laundry after letting it pile up and pile up he finds clothes he forgot he had and he instantly pulls the “are these your boyfriend?”

And of course you get super annoyed and grumble

“What? Is he hotter than me? Is he better in bed?”

If he has a scratch on his back that he can’t reach and you aren’t around to itch he will just go to the nearest corner of the wall and itch his back

He’s had to try to explain him a number of times when you walk in on him rubbing against the wall groaning and going “oh that’s the spot. Finally!”

When he goes to kiss you he will give you a big romantic smile before leaning in and closing his eyes just to put his mouth around your nose. Then he pulls away “babe, your lips feel different… maybe you need chapstick.”

Or he will do something super weird and just suck your bottom lip for a second then pull away again

Or bite your tongue

He’s a weirdo but he’s my dream man!

Since you’re still in the honeymoon phase he sneaks out of bed to brush his teeth before slipping back in and acting like he woke up like that

But it’s never that easy

Because he can’t just brush his teeth quietly

Nooo

He gags as loud as ever, breathing hard as hell like he is struggling to stay alive while he brushes his tongue

Just loud ass gags coming from the bathroom then he walks back

“Oh, hey. Did you just wake up?” He smirks, sliding back into bed while he pushes your hair away from your eyes and tries to put on his bedroom eyes

But after you just heard what you could’ve almost mistaken as your dad brushing his teeth at 6am on vacation you are not in the mood

“Did you get any on your tooth brush or…?”

He’s a drink stealer

He’s a food stealer!

He will eat and drink basically anything

Constantly stealing your drinks, stealing the food right out of your hand

It’s like five day old leftovers that you see him eating over the sink like he’s a starving rat that hasn’t gotten food in months

Socks stay ON during sex! He gets cold!

He gives off the vibe as like that one episode of family guy or something when they saw the period blood in the trash can and started crying because he thought you were dying 😭😭😭

He seems like SUCH a photobomber tbh… like you cannot get one nice photo without his sticking himself in and sticking his tongue out with his eyes all lit up like the weirdo he is

OKAYYYY

I’ve been working on this for MONTHS just adding little thoughts here and there… there will be more to come!!!!

Let me know YOUR pest Eddie thoughts, or your thoughts on MY pest Eddie thoughts!!

:)

[heavyhitterheaux]

Treat You Better

Synopsis: You are Urban's godsister and have been in Jack’s life ever since he was six years old. Urban would always mention how you were off limits, but it didn't stop Jack’s feelings for you. When your boyfriend cheats on you for the second time, Jack is determined to prove to you that he can treat you better than he ever did.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Do not engage if underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Jack was growing more worried by the second as he peered over at you next to him with tears still streaming down your face. This had been going on for the past hour and a half with you showing up on his doorstep at one in the morning. You still hadn’t said a word and Jack couldn't figure out for the life of him what could have happened in a matter of fifteen minutes after all of you had gone home from being out the majority of the day for you to come to him crying.

“Baby girl? You’ve been crying for almost two hours. Are you going to tell me what happened?”

All he got in response were sniffles as you held out your hand and he quickly put another kleenex in it so that you would be able to wipe your face.

That was when he decided to call Urban if you weren’t going to talk.

The two of you would talk a lot seeing as though you have always been close. You were Urban’s godsister, but Urban simply saw you as his sister since 85% of the time when you two were growing up, you would be around each other. Your parents often traveled for work, so you spent a lot of time in Louisville with Urban and the rest of his friends.

Once Jack’s career started to take off, Urban was always with him, but since he is extremely protective over you, right along with Jack and the rest of Private Garden, Jack decided that you should be his “personal assistant” even though all you really did was travel with them and helped out when it was needed. A lot of Jack’s fans thought that the two of you were in a secret relationship or were friends with benefits, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. But if it was left up to Jack, the two of you would be in a relationship at this very moment. Jack has always had the biggest crush on you, but refrained from making a move since Urban has said time and time again how you were off limits.

So, what did he do?

Watch on the sidelines how your boyfriends would treat you like shit and when your heart got broken, he was the one to pick up the pieces. He knew you deserved better than that and would honestly do anything to be able to show you. He knew that he could treat you better than any of your boyfriends have and was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to pursue it.

He knew that Urban was going to be pissed at him, but he would just have to deal with it. For the time being, he spent time with other women for simply a distraction in order to take his mind off of you. But, it never lasted long and by the end of the night, you would be slowly creeping back into his thoughts.

“Y/N, either you tell me or I’m calling Urb.” Jack said while looking at you anticipating some type of reaction, but he got absolutely nothing.

“You have to meet me halfway here. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s happening.”

All you did was give him more sniffles in response as you laid your head in his lap and attempted to drift off to sleep.

So, he knew the next step was to call Urban.

“Hello?”

“We have a situation.” Jack answered as he looked down to see you now wide awake and scrolling on your phone.

“Oh shit, what is it?”

“Y/N.”

“What’s wrong?!?”

“She showed up on my doorstep fifteen minutes after we left crying. She’s been crying for almost two hours and hasn’t said a word.”

All Urban did was sigh in response.

“I'm on my way.”

20 minutes later, you still hadn't said a word as you now helped yourself to Jack’s pantry full of snacks. He simply sat at the island in the kitchen watching you as you opened a bag of doritos. You heard the front door and knew that Urban would soon be making an appearance but all you did was continue to eat chips and poured yourself a glass of Arizona iced tea that Jack kept in his house specifically for you.

“Y/N….” You heard Urban say as you sat next to Jack.

He got nothing in response and sighed.

“This has been going on for two hours.” Jack told him as you had now laid your head on his shoulder and started to once again scroll through your phone when Urban snatched it away from you which led you to pout and immediately try to grab for it.

“No. I'm not giving it back until you talk.” Urban said, leading you to roll your eyes and sigh.

“He cheated on me. Now give me my phone back.” You answered and tried to grab for it again, but Urban put it further out of your reach.

“I…. Not again.” Jack said as he sighed and shook his head and Urban looked at him dumbfounded.

“What do you mean not again!?”

“He did it before and I only told Jack because I knew you already didn't like him and didn't want me to date him. And when I told him we were in a different country so he couldn't do anything.”

“I'm beating his ass.” Urban muttered as he started to get up from the island, but you immediately stopped him by moving to grab his hand.

“No! absolutely not!”

“Why’d you tell us if you didn’t want us to beat his ass? He CHEATED on you. I’ve never liked his ass anyway. My instincts were right from the beginning.”

“I just want to sleep and not think about it. I broke up with him and it's over and done with.”

“But…”

“Can we drop this? I'm tired and don't we have to be up at like nine in the morning?” You asked as you got up from the island.

“We could have been asleep if you would have said what happened from the beginning.” Urban said and all you did was roll your eyes.

“Jack, can I sleep here? I need to borrow a shirt. Second drawer?” You asked as you made your way towards the steps knowing that he wasn't going to say no since this happened often.

“Not you inviting yourself over and then now taking over this man's bed and clothes.” Urban said and you simply shrugged.

“Jack loves me and lets me do whatever I want. Not my fault the bed in the guest room is so comfy.”

“Have at it, but you owe us breakfast for all this.” Jack said as he put your cup that you used in the dishwasher and put the chips back in the pantry while you snatched your phone from Urban.

“Sure, sure.”

Once upstairs, you heard the front door open indicating that Urban had left and you went to Jack’s dresser and opened the second drawer grabbing one of his shirts and quickly changed into it before making your way down the hall to the guest room. When you got settled, you were scrolling on Instagram since you weren't tired when a text from Jack came through on your phone.

Favorite White Boy 💖- You deserved better than him and the way that he treated you. I'm always going to be here for you and just want you to be happy. But the offer still stands if you want me and Urb to kick his ass

You- I love you bunches. I'll be okay, promise. At this point, he's not even worth it.

Favorite White Boy 💖- I love you back tenfold. Get some sleep so you have enough energy later to deal with me bothering you

You- I don't think there's enough energy in the world for that

Favorite White Boy 💖- 🙄

Over the next several weeks, your ex-boyfriend had been blowing up your phone non-stop and Jack saw how frustrated it made you and quickly made a point to grab your phone and block his number and questioned why you hadn't done it already.

But that was when you had an idea.

“Jack, you know how you're my favorite person in the world?” You asked while batting your eyelashes and he just looked at you and laughed.

“What is it this time?”

“I need you to pretend to be in a relationship with me to make him jealous.”

“Wait, what?” Jack was taken aback because that was the last thing that he expected that you would ask him. How was he supposed to pretend to be in a relationship with you when he was actually in love with you and wanted for this to become reality?

“I just don't feel like he's going to leave me alone unless he sees me with someone else. And you're the perfect person for it. People already think that we're in a relationship anyway. I can’t even tell you how many times that people ask me that when I go out by myself.”

“That's what restraining orders are for, stink.”

“Jack, please? I need you to make this work.”

“And what are we supposed to tell Urban? You know he will lose his shit.” Not that he cared at that point even though that was his best friend.

“We aren't telling him anything. I have an entire plan to make this work.”

“Sweetheart, that's…”

“Just trust me on this.”

“And Urb is still going to ask questions.”

“Just let me worry about him. So your answer is yes?”

Jack sat there for a minute as he looked at you and sighed.

“I feel like this is going to end up coming to bite me in the ass, but okay.”

“You always say that you would do anything for me!”

“Not you trying to guilt trip me.” Jack replied as he laughed and shook his head.

“It's what I'm good at.” You said while shrugging.

“But if we want to make this believable, we need to go all in.”

“What do you mean?”

“Get your phone and open the camera.”

You followed directions and was caught off guard as Jack kissed your cheek and realizing that this was what he was talking about, you quickly snapped the photo.

But you also couldn't help the intense amount of butterflies that had erupted in your stomach.

“Damn, we cute. Okay send this to him. Making this my contact photo too.” Jack said as he stole your phone and opened it up to your contacts to see that your ex had in fact been messaging you multiple times since you broke up with him.

“He's a pathetic piece of shit, but it's his loss. You're mine now. Well at least for the time being.” Jack said as he winked at you and handed you your phone back.

If only this could be real was the only thing he thought as you took your phone back.

“Uh, shouldn't you mention this to Neelam? I don’t want her bombarding me.” You asked as you placed it back down on the table as you saw yet another Instagram notification.

“It’s only for a little while, right? I don’t think we need to.”

Weeks had gone by when you decided to actually post a picture on social media because your ex boyfriend didn't seem to be understanding that you weren't taking him back. You were out of chances and fucks to give and he needed to deal with the consequences of his actions.

Liked by jackharlow, shloob_, neelamthadhani, taylorrooks, saweetie, claybornharlow, and 971 others

y/n: nothing compares to those late nights with him 💕

urbanwyatt: WHO IS THIS?

saweetie: 👀👀👀

urbanwyatt: answer your phone, NEOW

Comments on this post have been limited

After you posted the picture, Urban had been blowing up your phone trying to figure out who the mystery man was, but you honestly didn’t know what to tell him. You and Jack had taken it a few days ago when you had gone on a late night food run and the kicker is the fact that your ex was still blowing up your phone despite you posting pictures of you and Jack on a weekly basis. Now as for Urban, you guess he was confused because the only other pictures you posted would be on your close friends story that he didn't know existed because you blocked him from seeing certain ones not being in the mood to give him an explanation. Now you didn't care.

However, you weren’t sure if you just wanted to come clean altogether and tell him that this was all fake in order to get back at your ex, simply because you were starting to feel things for Jack as much as you wanted to deny it. No, not starting to, they've been there.

You weren’t even sure if you could call this a fake relationship anymore.

The stolen glances

The brushing of fingertips against each other’s skin

The late night phone calls and good morning texts (sometimes Jack would even facetime you before he started his day in order to hear your voice)

The kisses that Jack would give you on your cheek that were dangerously close to your mouth

You were honestly scared of what Urban was going to think, but you had to remember that you weren’t a little girl anymore that he always had to protect. Your judge of character had obviously failed you in the past, but this was different.

Jack was different.

You wanted this and you wanted Jack. All you could do was hope that he felt the same.

The two of you had always spent time together, but even more so now that Jack was back in Louisville trying to plan for Gazebo Fest and you were helping him with some ideas and different things that he should include for the entire weekend. The two of you had been brainstorming well into the night when Jack noticed that it was around three in the morning. The texts from Urban had gone unanswered and you decided to text him back when you woke up later in the day. 

“I didn’t even realize what time it was. You want to pick this back up later?” Jack asked as he got up from the couch and stretched. It took everything in you not to stare as his hoodie lifted up and you could see a peek of his happy trail.

“That’s fine, do you remember where I put my keys?”

“Now what makes you think that I’m going to have you leave by yourself at this time of night?”

“It’s morning, Jackman.” You replied as you got up yourself to stretch and laughed.

“You know what I mean. Just sleep upstairs with me. Well not with me… I….”

“Yes, I got it.” You said as you laughed from Jack turning a bright shade of red.

Oh, how much you did want that to become a reality.

“Did you ever respond to Urb?”

“No, I’ll do it later. Sleep is more important right now.” You replied as you headed up the stairs first with Jack slowly coming up behind you. He was doing everything in his power to not stare at your ass in your leggings, but was failing miserably. Since he was so close to you, he could tell that you weren’t wearing anything underneath them and the thoughts that were running through his mind were quickly silenced when you spoke up.

“Gazebo fest is going to be amazing and I’m so happy that you’re doing it. I can tell that your heart is in this and I’m going to do anything I can to help you.” You confessed as you made your way into Jack’s bedroom and made a beeline for the second drawer.

“Thank you, I always appreciate you helping me. And I need to make you your own drawer for when you come over here. I think a pair of your shorts are in there too.”

“Well, I mean I do live here when I’m not with Urban so it’s only right.” You replied as you found the shorts and the t-shirt that you were looking for.

“Okay, Harlow, to be continued later.” You said as you reached up to kiss his cheek and your arms immediately went around his neck. He returned the hug as he squeezed you tightly and kissed the top of your head.

“Goodnight princess.”

Tossing and turning in your sleep and waking up every few minutes, you couldn’t get comfortable and knew that getting any type of rest was not going to be a reality but when it started to thunder and lightning outside that took the cake. Ever since you were small, you were terrified of them and although you've gotten better since you've gotten older, a lot of the time you still found yourself going into Urban's room.

So, your next best solution was to go and bother Jack.

However, once you opened the bedroom door in order to go to him, he was standing in front of it looking as if he was about to knock.

“Jack?”

“I was coming to get you because I know that you don’t like thunderstorms and I wanted to talk to you about something. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Umm, okay.” You quietly said as he grabbed your hand and led you back to his bedroom, once inside, you stood with your back against the wall near the door suddenly becoming nervous.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I can’t do this anymore.” Jack blurted out, but it didn’t come out higher than a whisper.

“Can’t do what, bubs? What’s wrong?”

“Pretend to be in a relationship with you when I’m completely in love with you and have been for the longest time. I just….”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“From the time we were younger Urban has always said how you were off limits, so all I did was distract myself and fill the void with talking to other girls even though you were the only one I wanted. If you don’t feel the same way….”

“Who said that I didn’t feel the same way?”

“Oh, you do?”

“I see the way that you treat me and the people around you and I just want a relationship like that. Someone to love me, which I already know you do. Listen to my dreams and my fears, remember my favorite color and what I want to order from my favorite fast food place, falling asleep on the phone with each other, being able to satisfy me because he definitely couldn't do any of those things despite how long we were together.”

Jack was quiet as he thought about what you had just confessed to him.

“I promise if you give me the chance that I’m not going to waste it. Let me show you how you deserve to be treated.” He said as he stepped closer to you. You felt as if your voice was going to fail you so all you did was nod your head.

“But for now, why don't you let me take care of that for you?” Jack asked as he stroked your face.

Your heartbeat increased as you had suddenly become nervous. I mean this was Jack that we were talking about and you had been around him since you were six years old. But now almost 20 years later, you saw him in a different light than before and that was terrifying. Terrifying because the feelings that you were having weren't supposed to be happening and yet they were, making you more nervous. So nervous in fact that you still hadn’t answered Jack’s question.

“Y/N, sweetheart you haven't answered my question.” Jack asked again as he leaned down to kiss the shell of your ear as you were pinned against him and the wall.

Jack then placed a finger underneath your chin to lift your head so that he could see your face.

“I…” You started to say, but you stopped yourself.

“You told me how he never satisfied you as long as you two were together and you have someone in front of you at this very moment that wants to make you feel good and do everything that he didn't. Are you going to let me?” He asked as he searched your eyes for an answer. When he still didn't get one, he leaned down and softly met his lips with yours and your heart fluttered as you slowly kissed him back.

“This might not be your first time, but it's your first time with me and I promise to take my time with you. I don't plan on this being the last time it happens either.” Jack whispered in your ear as his right hand snaked underneath the back of your shirt and unclasped your bra in one swift movement.

Since Jack had you pinned against the wall, his right hand reached up to massage your breast as his other hand made its way lower to cup your ass.

“You never gave me an answer, Y/N. I want you squirming underneath me, begging me to let you cum.” Jack had now moved his attention to focus on your neck as he tilted your head to the side and kissed upward starting from your collar bone. As he made his way higher, he softly bit down on your warm skin and soothed it by gently sucking on that same spot which led to a moan escaping your lips.

If this was your reaction when he had barely touched you, you knew that you were going to be in for it when he had you underneath of him.

“Yes.” Was all you had the strength to breathe out as Jack smirked before kissing the side of your mouth.

You gently pushed Jack away from you as you gathered the material of the bottom of your shirt in your hands and gently moved it up over your head. Since your bra was already loose by Jack’s doing, it simply fell from your shoulders and landed at your feet.

Capturing you in a kiss, Jack’s hand slipped into your shorts and discovered that you weren't wearing anything underneath. He gently grazed his fingers over your folds as you were growing wetter by each second that was passing. 

Soon he began to kiss down your neck and made a trail down your entire body until he was on his knees in front of you. Hooking his thumbs in each side of your shorts, he slowly pulled them down and tossed them behind him.

“I need to taste you. Spread those legs for me.”

An opportunity didn't present itself to do as you were instructed by Jack and he slowly spread your legs himself as he placed one of them on his shoulder and took one long painfully slow lick across your folds earning a moan from you.

“Mmm.”

He slowly licked again and you couldn't help but to grab a fistful of his curly hair as he continued to use his mouth to pleasure you.

“You taste so good, baby. Keep still for me.”

As difficult as it was, you tried your best as you felt one of his fingers slip inside you. He was moving painfully slow as you bucked your hips towards him, but all he did was keep the pace the same.

“Be patient, princess. I want to take my time with you and we have all night. There's no rush.” Jack said as he lightly kissed the inside of your thigh and his mouth immediately attached back to you.

A minute later, you were caught off guard as Jack moved your other leg to be placed on his other shoulder and was now holding you up against the wall. 

“You taste so good, baby. Just like I knew you would.”

You glanced down to see your juices all over Jack's face as you let spit dribble from your mouth and onto your chest to immediately begin pulling and massaging your nipples. You had gotten them pierced a few weeks ago and they were still a little sore, but the sensation and pleasure that it gave you led to you throwing your head back and continuing to do it as you planned on cumming all over Jack’s face.

He looked up and saw you with your head thrown back, eyes closed and letting out soft moans which was music to his ears. He was getting bricked up by the second as he watched you and planned on putting you in every position that he possibly could before both of you tapped out.

Since Jack had been enjoying his view in front of him, he decided to step it up a bit and now put all of his attention onto your clit knowing that you would soon come undone in front of him.

As soon as he began to suck on it, you loudly gasped as your hands went back into Jack's Hair to pull him even closer if that was possible.

“Oh, fuck. Baby stay right there. Shit, that feels so good.” You breathed out as Jack began to suck harder, making you squirm.

However, there was nowhere to go seeing as Jack was holding you in place making sure that you would stay where he wanted you.

A string of curse words erupted from your mouth as you finally came all over Jack’s face, but that didn't stop him from still eating you out and keeping a tight hold on your legs.

“Shit!”

“You gonna cum all over my face again? Hmm, baby?” Jack asked and he got a nod in response as your juices once again made its way onto his face.

Your breathing was erratic as Jack was now kissing along the insides of your thighs again in order to give you a chance to catch your breath.

Once you did, your hands cupped his face as he set you back down on your feet and immediately brought him down into a kiss as your hand snuck underneath his shirt and your nails were scratching along his abs.

“Now why am I the only one without clothes on?” You playfully asked him and in response his shirt was now on the floor.

“We can't have that, now can we?” Jack asked as you shook your head no and he grabbed your hand to lead you to the bed. Once in front of it, he backed the two of you up until your legs had made contact with it and kissed you before he gently laid you down.

“Move to the top of the bed for me.” Jack said as his shorts and boxer briefs came off in one swift movement.

Your eyes went wide as you saw how big he was and he slowly began stroking himself as he peered down at you.

There was no way that you were backing out now.

Jack was admiring you as you began to notice the precum leaking from the tip and your mouth instantly watered.

“You're so beautiful, baby. You ready for me?”

Thinking that a simple nod would do, that was your response as Jack shook his head.

“Need to hear you say it.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I'm ready for you.”

Smirking, Jack climbed on top of you and began nipping and kissing at your skin making the river in between your thighs increase.

“Still sore?” He asked as he began playing with your breasts and you let out a quiet yes, but at the same time gently moved his head lower to take one of them in his mouth.

He lightly sucked going back and forth between both of them as he had inserted two of his fingers in you in order to get you ready for him. 

You were caught off guard as he slipped himself inside you and captured you in a kiss at the same time earning a gasp to escape from your lips.

As he slowly moved in and out of you, his mouth found its way back to your breast as he sucked harder and bit down on the sensitive skin making you gasp.

Your arms immediately went around his neck as he increased his pace and his hold on your hips became tighter.

That was probably going to leave a bruise, but you were entirely in too much pleasure to care.

“Jack…” You softly said as you tried to reach down to massage your clit. 

He gently pushed your hand away and he stopped mid stroke to peer down at you.

“That's my job, baby all I want you to do is cum for me. Put your legs on my shoulders.”

“I… I'm not that flexible.”

“Trust me, yes you are. And didn't I just have them on my shoulders a little while ago?” Jack replied to you as your legs were actually now behind your head as he pushed them forward and resumed pleasuring you.

“How good am I making you feel, baby? I need to hear it.”

“So good, so so good.”

“Better than touching yourself as you thought about me? Because I know you have.”

“Yes!”

“You imagined me eating you out, sucking on that clit and giving you this dick? Because I know I have thought about having you underneath me moaning my name.”

“Mmm hmm, baby don't stop.”

“I don't plan on it, look at that pretty pussy creaming for me.”

Jack quickly slid out of you and took a long lick across your folds as you whimpered underneath him. He stayed there for a few more minutes before sliding himself back into you earning a moan to escape from both of your mouths.

That was when your phone started ringing on Jack's bedside table and promptly told you to ignore it as he saw you look in that direction.

“Ignore it, baby.”

“What if it's Important?” You asked as Jack grabbed it before you could to see who it was.

“Only important thing right now is me making you cum, but if you insist.”

He quickly answered it by putting it on speaker phone as he smirked.

“Y/N? Hello?”

You recognized that voice of being your ex-boyfriend's and had no idea on why he would be calling you and you were obviously too focused on Jack to respond. You had blocked him when you first broke up with him so had no idea how the call even went through.

That was when Jack increased his pace once more earning a loud moan to escape your lips.

“Hmm, Jack, baby don't stop, don't stop. I'm almost there.”

“Then cum for me. Cum all over my dick.”

Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks as you yelled his name and Jack hit his peak soon after you did. As he was peppering kisses along your entire body, he grabbed your phone that he had put beside you and spoke, surprised that he hadn’t hung up yet.

“Do me a favor, Matt and don’t call my girlfriend’s phone again.”

Jack tossed your phone to the side as he leaned down to place several kisses on your lips which you gladly accepted and once you two broke apart, Jack promptly laid his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair.

The two of you listened to each other’s breathing before Jack attempted to get up, but was pulled back by you.

“I’m coming right back, I promise.”

You nodded your head as he made his way into the bathroom and emerged with a warm wet cloth to wipe you off. Once he was finished, he put it in the hamper to lay back down next to you. Picking up his phone and glancing at the time, it was close to five in the morning and neither of you had been to sleep.

“Princess, it’s almost five in the morning and we need to go to sleep.” 

You moved to lay on his chest as his arms wrapped around you before answering him.

“It’s Saturday.”

“Fine, I’m ordering your french toast, but after that we’re sleeping.”

Every Saturday since the two of you were thirteen, you and Jack would always get french toast whether it was his mom making it or going out to a restaurant to get it.

As Jack picked his phone back up to order breakfast for the two of you, you suddenly had a realization.

“I can’t believe you answered my phone.”

“I had to let him know that you were spoken for.”

It was around noon when Jack heard a knock on the door waking him up out of his sleep. He glanced down at you to see that you were fast asleep on his chest and not wanting to disturb you, he slowly moved you over in the hopes of not waking you up and found some shorts for him to put on.

He made his way downstairs and opened the door to see Urban staring at him with a pissed off look on his face.

“Where the hell is Y/N? And why aren’t you two answering your phones?” Urban asked as he brushed past him and went into the living room.

“She’s sleeping. We were up until like five in the morning planning for Gazebo Fest so she just stayed over.”

Urban was quiet for a second and then put two and two together.

“You two have been spending a lot of time with each other.”

Oh, shit was the first thing Jack thought as those words left Urban’s mouth.

“Uh yeah? We always do.” Jack answered, trying to downplay it.

“Like more than usual. You were the one she posted on her instagram, aren’t you?”

“We just went out for food, it was no big deal so why are you trying to make it one?”

“I’ve said it from day one that she is off limits because I know how yall are.”

“Urb, here me out. Why are you so against this? I like Y/N and I'm 98% sure that she likes me back and I'm good enough for her! I'm not like these other dudes out here that don't deserve her. I know and you do too that I'm going to treat her like she deserves.” Jack expressed as he pleaded his case. He knew that it would eventually come down to this. He wasn’t quite ready to fully tell Urban that the two of you were in fact together. 

"You are literally the biggest WHORE that I know of. Ain't no way in HELL. She's been off limits from the beginning and you know that."

"Look who's talking! We're adults now and she can decide for herself who she wants to date." Jack quickly shot back looking at his best friend in disbelief.

"Her track record says otherwise. She's my godsister and I'm going to do what I need to do in order to protect her."

"But from me? Protect her from me? Do you hear yourself right now? So you’re going to shelter her for the rest of her life?”

"Especially from you. I've seen your track record too with relationships and she's not someone that you hit it and quit it. And I’m not sheltering her. I’m protecting her from no good assholes.” Urban replied, keeping his voice low in the hopes that you wouldn't hear him.

"I'm not going to do that with her and did you low key just call me an asshole? You know how important she is to me!” Jack was now fuming and shaking his head at him in disbelief.

"Like I said. She's my baby sister and I said no. I don't give a fuck about how you feel. End of discussion.”

“The fuck it is. We can agree to disagree.”

As Urban was getting ready to respond, you walked in the room beaming, wearing Jack’s clothes and holding Jack’s dog CoCo in your arms.

“Jack Jack, are we ready to go? I still need to find something to wear though.” You asked as you scratched behind her ears.

“Where are you two going?” Urban asked while getting a slight attitude.

“Jack promised me an ice cream date with just the two of us. Since we couldn't do it yesterday.” You responded and Urban shot Jack the evil eye while all he did was come closer to you.

“Are you two okay? You both look tense.” You asked looking at both of their faces and Urban couldn't help but to blurt it out.

“I don't want you dating Jack.” Was all he said and you looked at him dumbfounded.

“Well Urby, that isn't for you to decide. I can date whoever I want. But I would at least think that you would approve of me dating your best friend.”

“I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Jack would never hurt me in a million years and you need to get that through your head and get over it. We mean a lot to each other and I would think that you would be happy. You don't want to see me happy?”

“Yes! Of course I do, but…”

“But what, Urban?”

“He thinks that I'm going to use you essentially and when I get what I want, leave you high and dry. Oh and also said that I'm the biggest whore he knows.” Jack finally spoke up and you looked at Urban who simply shrugged.

“I've seen him do it countless times before and he's not a relationship type of guy.”

“Urban, I love you with all of my heart, but until I ask you for your opinion, stay out of my love life. I am tired of you coddling me like I can't take care of myself. I'm not a baby anymore.”

“Fine, but when he cheats on you and breaks your heart remember that I warned you. Oh, and don't come crying to me because all I'm going to do is say I told you so.” Urban replied as he walked away bumping Jack’s shoulder on purpose but he decided to ignore him.

“Urby!”

“Nope, don't want to hear it.”

“URBAN HENRY WYATT!”

“Enjoy your date.”

As he walked off, you turned back to Jack Who could tell that you were clearly upset.

“Just give him some time. He'll come around.” Jack told you as he kissed your forehead, but he wasn't quite sure if he believed those words himself.

Urban was avoiding Jack as well as you at all costs unless it was absolutely necessary. You were starting to feel guilty and you felt as if this entire thing was your fault and the last thing that you wanted to do was come between them. Gazebo Fest was approaching fast, and you knew deep down that Jack wanted Urban there, but because of what was currently happening, you highly doubt that it would happen unless you gave him a little push. 

After a few weeks of pleading, Urban finally agreed to go out to lunch with you, but made it clear that Jack was in fact not invited. This was your opportunity to fix what was going on between the two of them.

You and Urban were sitting across from each other scanning over the menu when he was the first to speak.

“Y/N, out with it. I know you’re here to convince me to talk to him, but I still don’t want to.”

“Urby, Jack has been your best friend since forever and you are being a little dramatic and acting like a diva. I love you and I love him and we are in a relationship together because we make each other happy. Will you please just talk to him?”

Silence.

“Urban! He needs you.”

Silence.

“There are a lot of things that I can fix for him, but trying to fill the void of his best friend is not one of them. Gazebo is literally next weekend and he needs you to be there and support him.”

“Yeah, support him as he went behind my back and fucked my little sister?”

You sighed and massaged your temples because you were getting absolutely nowhere with him.

“If I knew that you were going to be this much of an asshole when I finally got with the person that I wanted to be with, I would have never done it. I don’t want to come in between the two of you so I’m going to break up with him. Have fun supporting two broken hearted people because you couldn’t stand them to be happy. I’m leaving.”

“Y/N, baby girl, hold on.” Urban said as he grabbed your hand from across the table, but quickly snatched it back. 

“No, you’ve made your opinion known and I hear you loud and clear.”

Getting up from the table, you made your way outside to Jack’s Jeep and climbed in making your way back to his house.

You weren’t going to break up with Jack, but needed something to get a reaction out of Urban to make him show up next weekend.

One thing that Urban did not want to deal with was a broken hearted Jack. He’s gone through it too many times and he sat there with his thoughts running a mile a minute as he weighed the pros and cons of the two of you being in a relationship with each other. 

He wanted for you to be happy as well as his best friend so who was he to get in the way of it?

The following weekend, Jack couldn’t contain his excitement as the weekend for Gazebo Fest was finally here. Although Urban hadn’t reached out to him, he was still going to try and make the best of it with the support of his family and other friends and of course having you by his side was a plus.

The two of you were holding hands as you walked side by side behind the Gazebo stage when you caught the sight of Urban out of the corner of your eye. Jack was talking to Vince Staples and didn’t realize that he was there until he turned his head and saw him and you saw his eyes light up making a small smile grow on your face. While Vince went to get ready for his set, Urban came over to the two of you and Jack immediately embraced him as he let your hand go.

When they broke apart, Urban shoved his hands in his pockets and had a solemn look on his face.

“I’ve been an asshole to both of you and I’m sorry. You are two of the most important people in my life and if this is what you two want to do then I’ll support it.” He said as you also hugged him and he kissed your forehead.

“About time you came to your senses.” You replied when you moved away from him and pinched his cheek earning him to swat your hand away.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Jack asked, wanting another confirmation and Urban slowly nodded his head.

“I hope you two didn’t think that you were getting rid of me that easily.”

“Our next step was to kidnap you in the middle of the night and hide your weed.” You blurted out which instantly made Jack laugh as Urban rolled his eyes.

“Hold on, wait a minute. I thought you told me that you were breaking up with Jack because you didn’t want to come in between us?” Urban asked as Jack’s eyes went wide.

“WAIT, WHAT?”

“Urban, I literally only told you that to guilt trip you and get you to show up today and look, it worked! Oh look at that Mama Maggie is here! Bye!” You said as you started to run after her.

“Y/N! GET BACK HERE! YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THAT PART OF THE PLAN!” Jack exclaimed as you got further and further away from him. 

When the two of them were by themselves, Urban took this as an opportunity.

“Look, I know that you’re going to take care of her but I will seriously cut your dick off if you hurt her. Best friend or not, your ass is grass and I’m the lawnmower.” Urban said as he looked over at you talking to Maggie and Brian.

“Hmm, what kind of ring do you think she wants?” Jack asked as he followed his gaze. 

“RING? What?! The two of you have been dating for six minutes and twenty five seconds!”

“I’m thinking princess cut.”

“Look as long as I’m the best man.”

“Y/N might want you in her bridal party so we probably have to rock, paper, scissors for it.”

“I… seriously?”

“But on a real note, I’m happy you came. I really needed you.”

“And that’s exactly what Y/N told me.”

“I can’t explain it, Urb but she makes me better and makes me want to be better.”

“That’s just the type of person she is and I’m happy that she’s with you.”

“Oh, this might be TMI, but her ex called when we were….”

“Ew, spare me the details please if this is going where I think it is.”

“Right, but I answered and all he heard was her moaning my name as she came and I told him not to call my girlfriend’s phone again.”

“I thought I said spare me the details? But I know you gagged his ass.”

Making your way back over to them, you hugged Jack and then reached up to kiss him.

“Gag me with a spoon.”

“Urban, you approved this so get over it!” 

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Warning! This chapter focus on mental health struggles and body image issues (depression and ed) It’s a little dark so if that is at all potentially triggering to you please be advised and do not interact.

Chapter 20 - Miss Mama | ‘Ours’

“She’s okay? God, please tell me she’s okay.” Trent asked in a voice that was heart wrenching. Lauren felt her heart shatter listening to him sound so meek and broken.

“Erm… physically so so, emotionally, T, I’ll be honest it’s not good. I know she fucked up but this isn’t good for you two to be apart. I’m worried.” Lauren croaked out. “I’m here with her now but….” She tried to begin to provide some sort of update but Trent cut her off.

“I need her to be okay, Lauren. I can’t have her like this. I need her. She… She’s my whole world. I am nothing without her. I’m so worried. I was the one that caused all of this. I need her to be okay.” He started to cry. Lauren could hear the gasps for air and sniffles through the phone. “I.. God, I l..love her so much.” Trent began to stutter interspersed between his tears. Lauren hadn’t really ever heard him cry but she understood wholeheartedly how upset he must’ve felt because she was feeling pretty much the same way.

“I know…  I know you do, T. I think she needs to come home. She needs you. Seriously, I know you guys have a lot to unpack after what’s happened but being away from you, from Teddy… it’s killing her. She’s… she’s not well.” Lauren didn’t know how to describe or even articulate your current state. You were gaunt, your face didn’t have the glow it did when you were with him or your baby. Lauren had seen this version of you before though unfortunately. She hadn’t seen it in years but she’d never forget it. Since Trent entered your life there had been an incandescence about you. Sure, you had dips, everyone does but he was there now to hold you through it all. She recalled an ability you had that she hated to morph your body to completely display your emotional state. Your mental condition contorting into a physical one. “T…” Lauren whimpered, starting to cry. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, I know she’s told you. You’ve been so good for her, you’ve changed her whole outlook on life, you treat her the way she deserves to be treated. I’m just worried because this isn’t the first time I’ve had to do this.” Lauren took a deep breath. 

“I am made for her. I know that. That is my purpose. I am supposed to take care of her and cherish her and I was mad, I was upset but I don’t want this. I never wanted to be the one to kick off something like this. God, I’m going fucking mad, here. Why did I let her leave like that ... .Wait, wait, hold on, do what, Laur?” Trent paused his momentary rant to get Lauren to clarify. 

“Winnie told me about the first time. I hadn’t met Y/N yet. She just was so sick. She wasn’t taking care of herself. I know you already know about these things, I don’t have to relay it all to you again. Honestly, I can barely talk about it. I don't want to have to do this anymore” Lauren’s body shuddered remembering other time’s that she’s been in this very situation. “I’ve watched her destroy herself. She lets herself wither away. I've seen it again and again and I thought we were done. I thought that you’d be the person that finally brought her some peace and seeing her like this again… it’s breaking me. When I came into the apartment… god” Lauren continued to cry, her heart hurting thinking about her best friend struggling to see what everyone around her saw. You were beautiful, inside and out and not in a cliche way, in a way that was indisputable and breathtakingly refreshing. Trent’s stomach dropped. He actually thought he might’ve blacked out while Lauren continued talking.  “She’s okay, she’s safe and asleep but she just really doesn’t want to lose you, she couldn’t handle it.” You didn’t always have the strength to push past the type of destruction you’d inflict on yourself over the years but there was something that Trent was able to do that gave you hope, gave you moments of truly feeling love and value. Lauren believed in you. You could be strong but losing Trent was not something she wanted you to have to ever endure. That was your person. The one that was created and cut, defined and detailed just for you.

“Get her back to me, Lauren. I need her. I am not losing her. You will not lose her. This is stopping now. Whatever you need, just get her back home to me. I’m going to take care of her, I promise.” Trent said sternly. This was over. Being apart was over. Honestly, Trent wanted to just fly to New York right now but he couldn’t because he had a match. He wanted to say fuck football. Trust, he never said that and meant it but he did right now. He knew you’d be mad if he did it and he knew it would cause a stir so he bestowed all his trust in Lauren to get you to him.

As you laid in your bed, Trent was unavoidable in your dreams. He was everywhere. You cried in your sleep. Missing him. You couldn’t get up when your eyes began to flutter open, god knows how much longer later. Enough for Lauren to have your next 24 hours already planned out for you at the least. Your body was paralyzed by the crushing weight feeling as if you ruined your impending marriage and family over a stupid night out you took too far. The tears kept falling. In retrospect, you’re not sure they had stopped for the past few days. You were amazed you had any left in your tear ducts. You thought about how beautiful Trent was and how, in a nearly impossible way, what you created together, Teddy, your baby, was even more beautiful. You could hear their laughs echoing in your head in the most cynical mockery of what you were missing. You missed them so much.

You were filled with a mix of fear, regret, anxiety, heartache, and anticipation when Lauren got you back to your house. You felt your body go cold as you approached your once incredibly warm front door. Lauren stayed outside calling Jude for her own moral support that she needed. You were in a haze but this was really difficult on her as well. You punched in the front door’s code and heard the lock turn and shift. You grabbed the handle and pushed. The smell of your house hit you like a freight train. You could’ve physically fallen over with the amount of memories that flooded your mind at the scent. You covered your face with your hands for a moment and took a deep breath trying to compose yourself. You dropped your bag and your Rimowa at the door just the way you hated Trent did.  The alarm beep rang through the house alerting that a door had opened. The sound was like catnip. You heard the pitter patter of bare feet running clumsily on the hardwood floors. Around the corner swung the most perfect little girl. Her hair laid flat pulled into a bun with a few ringlet curls escaping. She had a light pink shirt on dragging a bear on the ground behind her with one arm holding its paw in her hand. You started to cry immediately.

“Mama!” Teddy cried. Tears coursing down her cheeks. Her initial excitement of who was at the front door halted by the surprise of how much she missed you. This was so unfair to her. You sat on the floor and pulled her into your embrace engulfing her. You sobbing along with her.

“My baby. I missed you so much. I love you so much.  I’m so sorry mummy was away. I’m so sorry, baby.” You pressed your lips to her hair and shut your eyes tight. She didn't really understand why you'd been away but boy was she happy to see you. You never wanted to let go of this little girl. Teddy continued to weep but she slowed eventually. Your hold of her only seeming to get tighter though as she fell into shorter breaths and sounds of hiccups 

“Miss my mama.” She cooed talking into your shirt. You squeezed her that much tighter. Your hand running over her head before you loosened your hold to be able to look at her. You pressed her nose against hers. “Mama no sad.” She whimpered, being able to see how visibly upset you were. It hadn’t actually been more than 72 hours that all this unfolded but you felt like she managed to grow up somehow. She was so emotionally attuned and intelligent. She nuzzled her face into the nape of your neck comforted by your smell and you by hers. 

“Oh baby, I know, I know you missed mama. I missed you so much. I’m not sad, I’m just so happy to see my little Teddy bear, yeah? Were you good for daddy?” The question just fell out like a habit. You shut your eyes barely able to process saying his name to her. It was then you heard ‘daddy’s’ footsteps coming to stand close but what still felt far away watching you in the foyer. He could tell immediately you’d lost weight in the span of days. The curve of your shoulder looked different, your cheekbones just a little more defined. 

“Dada! Mama home!” Teddy pulled away from you and turned around to Trent to tell him the exciting news. He nodded with a smile at her, not looking at you. You weren’t sure if this would be all that exciting of news to him. Nevertheless, you got yourself up on shaky legs. He came over to you in what felt like slow motion. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry. He hated when you cried and you didn’t want to upset him more but you thought you might seeing his gorgeous face again. You had no idea where the two of you stood. He said he was done but you were back home by Lauren's guidance for the sake of your daughter.  She didn’t want to do any of the talking for Trent, she was simply acting as a delivery woman. Trent extended one arm out to you. His big hand grabbing the back of your neck harshly, almost aggressively pulling your sylphlike body into his strong one. He brought his other arm around you slipping low across the small of your back the way he usually did. It was a bone crushing embrace. You felt his chest tremble and then he sniffed in harshly as he began to cry. You made him cry. You shut your eyes, extending the persistence of the horrible feelings you’d had for days. 

“I love you.” You whispered, tucking your face against his neck. Your nose flattened against his soft skin. Teddy stood quietly holding onto your leg not ready to let go. Lauren snuck into the house quietly and grabbed her. “I’m sorry.” you whimpered barely audible. You took a deep breath reveling in the feeling of his warm hold, relief and fear concomitantly falling over you.

“Don’t fucking ever leave us again. Your home, your place in this world is right here in my arms with our little girl. We cannot survive without you here. Do you understand me?” Trent cooed with a stern but shaky voice keeping you tight to his chest. You nodded as your pervasive tears returned. More and more falling the longer he held you. “We love you. God, fuck… I am so in love with you Y/N. Please don’t ever leave me. No matter how much I push, no matter what’s happening, you cannot leave.” He pleaded begging you more than he was instructing you.  

“I don’t want to leave, I don’t want you to not want me anymore. I want to come home, T. You’re the love of my life. You’re the only way I’m able to breathe.” You placed your hand over your heaving chest because your heart began to hurt so badly. 

“You can’t go anywhere else. Not letting you.” He said with a desperate release of air. Your other hand’s nails dug into his cotton t-shirt covering his back. You let him cry, loosening your claw and rubbing circles with your hand on his lower back whilst the other moved off your chest to gently scratch his scalp until he was able to calm down.

“You never cry…” You made the observation giving him a sad smile in between gasping breaths. You wiped the tears under his eyes gently. Guilt and empathy running down your face. 

“You’re worth crying for, baby.” he cupped your cheek. The heartfelt way he said baby to you returning, stilling your racing mind. He looked into your eyes and you felt everything around you disappear. Every worry, every physical thing around you vanishing, only him left. He kissed you and it was like someone restarted your whole nervous system. The cogs in your brain began turning again, the blood in your body began to pump again, your heart began beating again, the color began to rush back into your cheeks. “You owe me a few days of kisses, yeah? Teddy too. She’s desperate, apparently I’m not the same as mama.” He cooed, pulling away momentarily letting you know the work that laid ahead of you before returning his lips to their rightful place on yours.

“Oh no…” you couldn’t help but giggle picturing the conversations they must’ve had. Your lips curling into a toothy smile inadvertently pulling them off his. Listening to the two of them together was precious, you could only imagine what they were saying when they were alone. It made your heart swell seeing those two identical faces together.  “What’d she say?” you asked curious to hear about the exchange. 

“Nah, she had me running, you know? I felt like she knew the game she was playing as well. Dada want this, dada up, dada quiet. Just command after command and then in swept the critiques.” You smiled seeing his eyes light up recalling their days and Teddy’s hold over him.

“No mama does!” She rattled off squirming away as he attempted to do her hair after he placed her on his lap in front of him in a mirror in her room.

“I know she’s the best at it but can you let daddy do it today?” He asked her politely. He pulled her curls back into the best bun he could manage. Brushing it slicked back. She furrowed her brow at the finished product. He looked at her trying to make out why she wasn’t happy. He thought he did a good job.

“Bow! Dada bow, please.” She looked at him back through the mirror like he was dumb pressing her palm onto his thigh. Obviously, he forgot a bow. How did he not know that? He placed it and sighed. He kissed her cheek and plopped her on her own two feet.

“Are we hungry this morning? I am. I’m thinking we have the toastie you like.” Trent cooed looking at her as they walked down the hall inspecting his handiwork on her hair trying to find a flaw that warranted her disgruntled response. Teddy replied with a simple ‘yuck’ keeping her gaze fixed ahead focused on her tiny steps. “What why? What do you want then?” He asked inquisitively with a bit of a smile. It was hard not to laugh at her developing personality. He held her hand but let her navigate the grand staircase in your house roughly by herself. 

“Mama.” She responded to him confidently and calmly knowing not what she wanted to eat but very certain she’d prefer you to be there to make it for her.

“Yeah, well same…” Trent exhaled, inspecting the empty refrigerator he knew you usually filled with all the things you knew he and Teddy liked. It was the little things you did that had disappeared in front of his eyes now missing them tremendously in a day's time.

“I mean… it wasn’t good, baby.” His smile faded as he recalled the last couple days that were filled with some cute moments but more so difficult ones.

“Baby?” You asked, interested if that’s where you stood now. Were you on good terms? One of the last times he said it it really stung.

“Yeah, my baby. Forever but we really need to talk.” He spoke to you softly before taking your hand and guiding you into the cinema. It made you nervous hearing the door shut behind you. The noise reminding you the room had sound proof walls. God, you hoped this wasn’t going to be another loud fight like the one that transpired in your kitchen where you’d need those walls.

“I know we’re talking and it’s serious but…” You took a deep breath and tried to fight back tears. You sat on opposite sides of the couch in the room awkwardly as if you had just met. You looked at him with a pout and puppy dog eyes.  “I’m scared and I really need you. Can you just hold me please?” You whimpered out, quite pathetic. 

“C’mere, pretty girl. This is where you’re supposed to be, yeah?” He smiled softly, loving hearing that you needed him, that he was a comfort to you. You relaxed in his arms, relieved that was the vibe and not you two raising your voices. You laid your head on his shoulder. Trent hugged you tightly and you couldn’t hold back the tears that began to run down your face. You bawled his shirt in your fists.

“T… Who was that in the photos?” You sheepishly asked, unable to keep it inside anymore. You wanted to get what felt like the hard bit out of the way. You were lying to yourself and using him as a scapegoat. This wasn’t the hard part by a long shot. No matter his answer, there was a massive elephant in the room and it was you but you couldn’t shake the photos online of him and that woman. The thought of someone else, another girl spending time alone with him. Her somehow becoming his best friend. Him choosing her over you. 

“Baby…” He drew out the pet name, saddened you’d seen the photos and imagined something completely incorrect. 

“If you did, I’d understand.” You cut him off before he even answered you, excusing an action he didn’t do. He dropped his head back against the couch frustrated this was still where you were at, that things didn’t magically change when you walked back into the house. You believed he could treat you like that and it would be an okay thing, something you might’ve deserved.

“Stop. I didn’t do anything. It was George’s cousin. Baby… we gotta work through this. You need to understand I’m committed to you. This is why I met with her. You need…” He trailed off feeling awkward and terrible for what he was about to say. “ You need help.” He muttered out. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for it all, T, the final, New York.  I never wanted to hurt you.” You apologized earnestly.

“You didn’t hurt me, I mean you did but I’m more concerned about you hurting yourself. I was scared. I know Lauren told Jude not to but baby, we’re all really worried. They both told me about what happened in the apartment in New York…” He sighed hating that you were even having to have this conversation. You exhaled his name, defeated feeling the same. “Nah, I don’t want a defense or excuse. I can’t lose you.” He tried to deter you from the innate need to defend yourself. 

“Before Wembley… I don’t know. I got too drunk and I was alone and I got sad. It was a one off.” You had no ground to stand on, any reasoning would’ve been illogical but you felt the words jumbled rolling off your tongue. 

“It’s not. When Lauren visited, you got so sad, baby. It’s just not, you’ve said it’s happened before. Your dad told me, Winnie’s told me, Lauren’s told me. It might not be happening in front of me but it’s happening. Baby, I get that it…” He tried to keep talking to you but you gave him a face you gave to a lot of people. A facade of interest. A mask being pulled in front of your face, the elastic band snapping behind your head securing it. “Don’t…” he reprimanded you knowing it all too well. “Fine, I can’t understand but I imagine it’s hard to talk about. I’m scared. I’ll be the one to say it, alright? I’m fucking scared, Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted to you. Feeling like he failed by doing so. “We need to go to a doctor. I don’t mean this derogatorily I just think someone could help. I'm out of my depth here. I don’t want anything to happen to you. To my Y/N. To my baby’s mum.” He defeatedly let out. You could feel his heart racing pressed against you. You had so much to say but nothing would come out. You cuddled into him, laying your head on his chest. “I love you so much.” He whispered, breathing you in. Transitioning from sheer desperation to admiration for your body in his hands right now. Jesus Christ, what had happened? In a weird way he began to wonder if he felt like he had used you. “Am I making things worse?” He questioned you terrified of your potentially heartbreaking answer. You shook your head ‘no.’ Why didn’t this stuff go on in front of him? The inability to keep up with a golden boy wasn’t the problem but it was hard to not feel downtrodden. Trent was empathetic, he could hear it in the way you cried in the kitchen before you left.

'You expect me to be this perfect version 24/7 but I’m not. I’m not!” You kept crying. “I’m sorry. Fuck! I’m sorry, I’m trying but I can’t be like you, okay?” You whimpered, feeling defeated and broken.'

You didn’t really blame Trent for being good at well… life. Instead, you felt a crushing amount of guilt and shame for not simply being enough. The inability to measure up not to him but for him. You felt so tender in his arms like if he moved suddenly or too rough you’d break or bruise. He thought about the way he had sex with you, the way he uprooted you to England, the way he got you pregnant. He felt horrible that he inflicted so much on you physically. He just wanted to take care of you but alternatively, you’d never felt less used. The exact scenarios he was recalling flashed through your mind in the most blissfully painful way. You shut your eyes again. You wouldn’t change a thing, a lie, maybe a few things on your end but overall, no. His hands on you felt alleviating and comforting all the time. Even if he was fucking you roughly, even if you were jet lagged flying places to see him, even the grueling process of labor was fine all because he was there. 

“Thank you for caring.” You muttered out embarrassingly honestly, finally finding some words that you felt wholeheartedly would be good to start with. Trent’s heart, if it hadn’t already when he saw you come back into your house, it surely did just completely shatter. He kissed your hair and then over your ear before whispering to you. 

“I will always care about you. More than you could ever understand. I will do anything for you…” he paused and let out a breathy sigh. “Anything.” The warmth of his breath, the drag of his lips moving down your skin sent a shiver running up your spine. 

“T, we shouldn't, it's too soon.” You moaned feeling his lips cascade down the length of your jaw. The mood in the room shifting in slow motion. He didn’t mean to, it just was instinctual. His big hands moving the fabric of your top further and further up, finding more and more of your bare skin. You pushed yourself back into him, rolling your head to the side. Telling him one thing out loud and asking for something completely different silently. 

“It’s fine. We’re fine, baby. We’re gonna be fine.”  He rattled off, not able to think very clearly lost in a very thick haze feeling your body again.

“We can’t do this, T. I have more to say.” You whined, not meaning half the words you said. You definitely wanted to do this but you also did have more to say. He had no control at this point and you hated that it turned you on so much. His desire for you would always trump any sense of reasoning you had. You couldn’t stop him because the sensations running through you were invincible. The physical attraction and the sexual desire between you would always pull you back together. 

“No, no, this is going to be really good. I fucking need you. I missed you so much..” You turned towards him with a desperate look on your face. Your eyes filled with lust. Trent could get hard off the look on your face alone but feeling you again, touching you again was setting him off. He pulled you into a messy make out gripping your face before pushing you backwards onto more of the couch crawling over you. “We need this. You need this.” He whispered, breathing you in and moving his kisses to your neck. You kept him close to you pulling him to you by his face. His hands dropped to your waist. He was right, you needed this, you needed him. His soft warm hands pushed your shirt up to feel more of you. 

“I love you, baby.” You murmured your lips unable to not pull into a smile. He sighed into the crook of your neck hearing you say that. You brought your legs to wrap around him digging your heels into his back. You couldn’t think about anything else but him for the last few days and right now was no different. 

“I love you so much.” He cooed and his voice never sounded more caring and honest. He spoke into your warm skin, kissing them into the most sensitive part of your neck. The whole thing feels more intimate than ever. Love filling the room to the brim. He reached between you and looped the two layers of his boxer and trousers pulling both off. He revealed his tone v line and you let out an embarrassing moan, you taking your own clothes off swiftly. He pulled away from you and looked at your bare body. You felt so naked and vulnerable, he could sense your nerves. He tilted your face towards his holding your cheek. “What are you being shy about? It’s just me, yeah?” He waited for you. You nodded pulling him back into a kiss. You sighed in the kiss dragging your nails up his chest. He repositioned his body over yours and dragged the tip of his leaking cock through your folds. 

“T… please, I need you.” You whined. He smiled happy you were back to your normal comfortable self with him. He slowly eased into your dripping wet pussy. You moaned as Trent treaded carefully moving slowly inside. His face fell into your neck groaning at the feeling of you wrapping around him. He moved slowly but precisely. Your nails dug into his back as he kissed your skin. Each stroke loving and thoughtful. He picked up his pace though lost in the feeling. 

“You feel so good, baby.” He grunted pushing your thigh up further to your side, hitting deeper inside you. The grip of his fingers on you dug into your soft thigh. He found the spot inside you only knew, only for him, only for you, repeatedly 

“Baby, oh my god, T. I missed you. I’m so sorry. I love you.” You were unable to stop your babbles. Tears began to fill your waterline.

“Don’t be. I love you. You’re here with me. Be here with me. Fuck, you feel so good. Let me take care of you” He inhaled a sharp breath. His dimples s sank into cheeks as he gave a sincerely sad and sympathetic smile. “Tell me your mine, baby.” He murmured continuing to thrust into in a way that was so euphoric your tears began to fall. His voice was breathy against your ear feeling the same amount of emotion you were feeling. The weight of his body on top of yours feeling like nothing compared to the weight lifting off you two. Your orgasm approached faster and faster, minute after minute. He bit onto your earlobe and tugged, grabbing your attention. 

“I’m yours, Trent. I’m always gonna be yours.” You whimpered. His mahogany eyes poured back into yours. He felt his heart skip a beat when you pulled him back down into a kiss. He fucked you harder with a harsh grunt juxtaposed by the sweetest kiss to the bridge of your nose. Your hand dragged down from behind his neck down the protruding veins of his arms until you reached the rigid texture of the Patek Phillipe watch he had wrapped on his wrist. The knot in your stomach tightened. It only took a few more mind numbing thrusts before Trent’s head dropped into your neck. Your climax erupting inside of you, your vision going white. His cock throbbed inside of you, beginning to paint your walls. You moaned ‘I love yous’ simultaneously. You felt him pouring into you. Waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. You hid your face against him. He slowed and you felt your bottom lip quiver against his skin. An uncontrollable sob escaped you. Your emotions bubbled over once more. Trent pulled out as gently as he could. He rolled off of you but was swift pulling you back into him. You clung to him crying. 

“I’m right here.” He whispered, pulling you that much closer to him and yet it wasn’t close enough. You wanted to be completely surrounded by him. “Can you look at me, baby?”  He sounded so worried. You shook your head ‘no.’  “Y/N…” He grabbed your face gently and turned you towards him. “I need to know you’re okay.” He asked softly. More tears escaped.

“I’m okay… just love you so much, T.” You pouted up at him and you felt his tense hold relax. “I love you.” He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek the way you always pretended to hate but secretly loved. You wiped his wet spit off of you and giggled. Trent felt relief wash over him when he heard his favorite sound in the world. 

“Oh wow… so mummy and daddy are… fine.” Lauren laughed carrying Teddy past the cinema minutes okay from upstairs into the kitchen. She was currently FaceTiming Jude biding her time while watching Teddy for you and Trent to ‘talk.’ “I think they’re fine. I mean they’re fucking so it’s either a really good thing or a really bad thing.” She laughed. Hoping for the first option. “Should we make you some lunchtime, hmm?” She cooed to the little girl in her arms while Teddy eagerly nodded trying to grab hold of her phone curious about Jude on the other end. 

“You’re good with kids, Laur.” Jude spoke through her phone with a cheeky smile seeing her so attentive and kind to Teddy. 

“I think I’m just good with Teddy. She's chill so it doesn’t really count. I know this is how it works but she’s the perfect blend of them. All the best things I like rolled into the cutest, squishiest, baby girl in the whole world!” Lauren sang in a soft voice, pinching at Teddy’s tummy. Her squeal shrieking through the phone, Jude blinking his eyes a few times, taken aback by her response to Lauren.

“All done mama!” Teddy yelled as you met them in the kitchen, flush. You pressed a kiss to Teddy's hair on your way to get the water you needed desperately before attending to her. She had finished eating the lunch Lauren kindly had made for her.  

“Good girl.” You cooed with a smile. Lauren sat with a smug look on her face as she waited for the inevitable late entrance of Trent, who, when he did stride in, looked absolutely fucking elated.

“Dada miss mama,” Teddy told you as she saw Trent enter. It was an over simplified way saying Trent had really missed you. He sadly and softly smiled at you hearing her. Your heart broke a little that she’d been able to piece it together, that she could sense Trent’s sad mood. 

“Mummy loves you so much.” He’d reassure her feeling completely unsure of what was going on in your relationship.The few nights you were away Trent would tuck Teddy in as she cried.  Teddy would fall asleep only comforted by Trent babbling on little stories and tidbits about you, how perfect you were, how much you likely missed her. They’d watch videos of you and he’d melt.  “Want to see something baby? Want to see the day I met mummy?” He laughed remembering a specific video he had on his phone, he wanted to watch. Teddy nodded tiredly, adjusting to the new routine activity. He was a little embarrassed he even had it but it made him remember a really good time despite things being so bad right now. You likely didn’t even know this video existed. He kept it in a locked folder on his phone primarily where all your nudes and let’s say spicer videos lived. He smiled seeing you like that. Vulnerable, needy for him and in love. You looked gorgeous. He dragged his thumb over the screen. He just wanted to feel your soft skin again as he carefully picked the video of you out of the roll making sure not to pick the wrong one before he showed Teddy. It was a video Marcel had sent around in a snapchat which seemed mundane at the time. He remembered Jude teasing him about it the following day as you laid on his chest, experiencing a new warm feeling of comfort. The video was strangely endearing, like you could see your connection in real time. Energy and force pushing you together. The earth letting out a sigh of relief finally getting two people that were meant to be connected.

“Mama pwety.” Teddy looked up at him cuddling a plush bear with big sleepy eyes as they looked at the thumbnail before he pressed play. He nodded at her.  “Yeah, you have the most beautiful mummy in the world.” He confirmed to your daughter with a sigh before he hit play. Hearing your coquettish laugh in the video cozying up to him in a club years ago just about sent him into cardiac arrest. It hurt. God, did it hurt. 

“Oh, I missed you both lots.” You cooed, kissing her. She smiled, little dimples indenting in her cheeks. A very visual confirmation she was Trent’s little girl. You’ve said it before but you were comedically jealous of the genetics Teddy was inheriting from him. 

“More plebs!” Teddy screamed, grabbing for you. “Mama, miss!” She giggled loving that you were back and really loving your kisses, kicking her feet in her chair. She greedily hummed. “Lub my mummy.” She squealed excitedly. You wanted to cry but you didn’t want to stop kissing her to so you held off. 

“Mummy gives the best kisses, huh?” Trent cooed, bending over in front of Teddy to plant a kiss on your cheek with a hum. 

“You’d know…” Lauren quipped cheekily eliciting a proud  augh from Trent and a raised eyebrow from you. 

When Teddy eventually got sleepy you brought her upstairs for sleep. You went to her nursery and you pouted seeing that Trent had nestled one of your softest jumpers in her crib, the smell of you still lingering. There was a little framed photo of your family moved from its original place propped closer for her to see. You started crying so hard you had to sit down. You couldn’t believe you put your child through this, you couldn’t believe you put Trent through this. Trent came upstairs and you met him in your bedroom after you had calmed yourself down on your own. He held you in bed in a close cuddle. 

“I can’t remember ever going to bed without saying goodnight before. I hated this so much, baby.” You whispered into the dark room as he caressed your warm skin under a tiny camisole you had on. 

“We’re never doing this again. I’m sorry I got so upset.” He cooed behind the shell of your ear pressing his lips against you. You both stayed awake in a warm cuddle. You didn’t know what time it was but it as the color of sky outside fell into that warm navy color, you’d guess around 4 am though. 

“Do you still want to marry me?” You asked after a few hours of not talking, just happy to be back in his arms and good graces. Neither of you wanted to fall asleep but not out of worry, but out of comfort. You didn’t want to lose the cognizance of his presence, what he felt like, what he smelt like. 

“Not a single second went by where I ever questioned that, okay?” He hummed. You smiled through a pout. You’d hope that was true. He meant it though. He didn’t waver in his commitment to you. He told Tyler he had no plans of leaving you. Through all of this it didn’t even pop in his head you would call off the marriage. Maybe he was angry and didn’t like how things currently were but not have you, not marry you? Never. You turned around in his arms and pressed a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back and shut his eyes, getting tired, not being able to keep them open anymore. You let him rest but you stayed awake inspecting his features. You brought your hand up to his face and tracing his perfectly plump lips. You brushed your thumb over his high cheekbones. You started to fall asleep then dropping your face in his neck, tucked carefully under his chin, wrapping your arms around his waist, legs tangled together. You kissed his warm skin drowsily, letting him know how much you loved him even while he slept. He woke up first the next day. He did the same as you did last night inspecting your features. The morning sun seeped through your blinds. The golden light casting over you. You looked radiant and luminescent but your soul, your heart, he could feel it. It was more striking than your beauty. He kissed your forehead before pulling you that much tighter to him. 

Trent had his last game of the season. It was a little surreal mostly because you realized that when the next season began you would be married, the surname on the jersey you were in, would be your own. Lauren and Marcel accompanied you along with Teddy. You wished Marcel would shut up so you could live in your moment of bliss imagining being his brother’s wife and admire Trent in peace. The way sweat dripped over his adams apple, his jersey sticking a little to his abs, his cheekbones highlighted by the floodlights. He looked unreal. Lauren went inside and Marcel looked at you curiously. You could feel his eyes but you ignored him until he spoke.

“Going to tell me how things have been?” He looked at you completely ignoring the game now. You rolled your eyes but he was persistent. 

“Yeah, all fine” You said dismissively, keeping your eyes on Trent whilst tucking a loose curl behind Teddy’s ear. He rolled his eyes now at you.

“Y/N… you know you have to let us in, let him in, let me in. I don’t get why you didn't tell me to begin with?” He spoke, sounding heartfelt, keeping his gaze fixed on you. 

“When was I supposed...” You sighed stopping yourself from starting to defend yourself but you could see his brow raise in annoyance. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to scare anyone.” You exhaled feeling a lot of guilt wash over you. He was one of your best friends and you had been extremely selfish not considering how he must’ve felt and dense assuming he wouldn’t want to know.

“Well, you did a really bad job.” He laughed and it made you smile. You felt relieved he was at least being normal again with you.  

“Marce… “ You sheepishly got out. “I’m so sorry” you apologized earnestly, leaning your head on his shoulder. He rested his head on top of yours.

“We love you. Just want mummy healthy, right Ted?” He cooed picking up Teddy from you from under her arms. Her eyes lit up. 

‘Lub mama, Celly!” She giggled, reaching to hug him wrapping herself around his neck. You pulled her Liverpool jersey down for her covering her back. You smiling at her voice. She loved him so much. To be fair, Marcel just had good vibes and since having Teddy you felt like kids had a great gauge of people. There was something that was so endearing about her relationship with him. She trusted him and was comforted by him, it made you feel incredibly relaxed knowing she’d always have her uncles and your sister. 

“I’m so glad you’re mine.” Trent whispered, kissing your head. You held Teddy and smiled for the annual end of season family photo you so loved. Trent was staring at you though not the cameras. You had gone down onto the pitch for one final lap after the match. It was lovely as always. Sweet and a bit emotional. 

“Always yours.” You cooed, turning to kiss him. Teddy quick to want the same amount of attention you were giving each other. She pulled at your shirt with a cute grunt. “Yes, yes and you are ours, Teddy girl.” You kissed her with an eccentric ‘Mwah!’ her giggle following.

When you finally were driving home, you were tired, Teddy already fast asleep, and Trent absolutely exhausted. Needless to say it was a quiet ride. You looked at Trent as the colored lights lining the motorway leaked into the car. You smiled admiring his beauty. His focus on the road but yours on his jawline strikingly sharp. 

“What are you staring at me for?” He laughed, calling you out, flashing his eyes your way quickly. You giggled sliding your hand over onto his face brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“You’re so pretty. Do you know that?” You cooed admiring his annoying perfect skin, despite his annoyingly minimal effort.

“Yeah, obviously.” He replied with a straight face before he couldn’t hold in the cheeky childish smile he was trying to keep down. His perfect grin made your heart hurt. He was so pretty but you rolled your eyes at his pompousness. “Don’t pull a bird like you looking anything but leng.” He turned his adorable look to you.

“Yeah? How did you even manage to bag me?” You teased with a giggle. His smile staying put hearing the sound but he rolled his eyes at your joke. He tapped at his cheek with his free hand, keeping the other draped over the steering wheel. You raised your eyebrows at his gesture.

“Go on…” He instructed you. You laughed again and pressed a kiss where his fingers had been tapping. “Thank youuu.” He sang.

“Ridiculous.” You reached over again to him and squeezed his thigh. 

“Erm… Ow? I just played 97 minutes. Keep your hands to yourself.” He quipped. You squeezed his thigh again just because. You knew he liked the attention. He loves when you give it to him and he can just annoy you in return. 

“You love my hands on you. So full of it, you know.” You giggled with one more squeeze than attempted to remove your hand but he was quick to place his over top of it to keep it on him. 

“I do. I really love your hands on me.” He cooed in a voice that made you feel like you had a juvenile crush on him. You were flustered by the flirtatious comment. He could feel your arm tense a little so instead of keeping your hand on his thigh, he picked it up and brought it up to his lips to kiss the back of it.

“T… do you want to take me on a date this week?” You asked him bluntly, turning the direction of the conversation. You liked him flirting with you right now and you wanted more. You thought it’d be nice to have a night out just you two. Probably a good thing considering what had transpired.

“Yeah? Want me to?” He smiled big again squeezing your hand. You nodded in an adorably naive way.  “Yeah, beautiful, I’ll take you out.” He cooed turning towards you again. His mind beginning to comb through ideas of where he wanted to take you. You leaned over once more unprovoked to give him another kiss on the cheek before you tucked back in your seat shutting your eyes and resting your head onto the window. “Alright, sleepy girls, we’re home.” Trent’s voice waking you up from a daze you didn’t know you had fallen into. You turned to him with a tired pout as if to ask ‘can you please carry me inside?’ He laughed getting out of the car. He came around and opened your door but then he stepped away and opened the back seat. “I’m gonna carry our literal baby but if you want to wait I’ll come back and get you.” He mocked you. You obviously weren’t going to wait outside so you begrudgingly got out of the car yourself. Trent picked up Teddy gently making sure she didn’t wake. He held her tight to him. You shut the door of the car for him and followed them, proceeding to slip your arms around his waist and resting your forehead against his back. He shook his head as he got both his sleepy girls to bed. 

The next day you were getting ready to go to Dianne’s house up in your bedroom's wardrobe. You were doing your best to get back into your routine. Lauren was still there, leaving soon, but you had promised Dianne you’d go see her with Teddy. She heard rumblings about the situation, naturally. Trent had confided in her early on in your relationship when you first let it slip you had struggled with your health to him. He’d never really thought about something like that affecting someone he knew. He had girl friends and girlfriends but he never had a sister he had to share a bathroom with growing up. He didn’t know girls were skipping meals and doing diets or maybe the more extreme things you had been doing that you shared with him. She of course was empathetic to him and did her best to be a sounding board and not intrude but as a mum, as a person who knew you and loved you, she was concerned. So you promised you’d go. 

“Hey… have you seen my Van Clef?” you asked vaguely to Trent. “Like our one?” You clarified more as you were trying to put final touches on your outfit.  He puffed out some air realizing that he was going to have to confront his mistake head on. He hated himself. He had been trying to avoid it but of course you were looking for it, you wore it almost everyday.

“Baby…” he called you, watching nervously. You hummed acknowledging him as you dug through your wardrobe thinking maybe you had misplaced it. “It’s not here.” He told you sheepishly. You gave him a side eye confused but when he didn’t speak you turned your whole body to him. 

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” At first, maybe you thought this was some sweet ploy of his. He came to you and slipped his hands around your waist. When he dropped his forehead against yours you felt the energy shift in the room. This wasn’t some goofy thing he was serious about something. 

“I had to bring it in to get repaired.” He got his words out so slow you clung to each one in anticipation. Your brow furrowed. He exhaled, dropping his shoulders. He wished he could lie but he knew it'd be wrong to. He was asking you to be honest with him; it would be incredibly hypocritical. “I found it when you were gone and I don’t know I just snapped and then it snapped.” He shut his eyes. You let out a measly ‘oh’ you felt the things he did when it happened. That necklace was your relationship and he had destroyed it. You were definitely in the wrong but it made you feel so sad you were actively trying not to cry or react. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t know what happened it just felt like such a punch in the gut finding it. I though that you didn’t want it or you left it, left me… it hurt. I’m sorry. Fuck.” He babbled incredibly quickly. You usually were fine with his accented words but your eyes narrowed trying to focus your spinning mind on what he was saying. His accent would come in thick sometimes and disappear other days. Relaxing with his friends at home, their words could feel like another language. Nervous doing press, he was more conscious of what he was saying, letting it slip away. 

“It’s fine… I guess.” You gave him a soft smile wishing you didn’t say the last bit. “I understand.” You kissed the tip of his nose and pulled yourself out of his hold. The room went ice cold. Trent’s mind was just filled with his inner voice screaming ‘fuck.’ It was hard not to notice the mood change after that. He hated it. “T, I didn’t leave it on purpose…” you told him right before you left, kissing his cheek, holding Teddy and heading to your car. You were so swift; he didn't even have the opportunity to respond.

“Laur... what am I meant to do here? Things aren’t just going to snap back.” Trent sighed, squinting, picking up his hand to shield his eyes to better make out Lauren’s face. They were sitting in your back garden as the English summer sun beat down on them. They stayed at home while you popped to Dianne’s. Despite your upset about your necklace it did make you happy that your best friend and your fiance “I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like a kid. I feel like I’m making stupid mistakes.” Trent was thinking about breaking the necklace. You’d probably be just as upset if he had managed to break your engagement ring but in a way this had stung more. The necklace was a decision he made before, a decision he made off of instinct, under your nose, completely infatuated by you. It was such an indication of how he felt about you from the very beginning and it was gone. A part of you was happy you didn’t have any visual of it all.

“You’re not but I know the feeling. If you didn’t pick up I was going to call your mum the other day. I was in a moment of introspection on the flight over and I almost laughed. Your mum? Oh hiya erm… can you help… embarrassing.” Lauren rattled off what felt like a million different thoughts. She shook her head but noticed Trent faint smirk on his face not pulling into a full smile but drifting into a tight line. 

“Maybe we should’ve.” He reflected. Maybe Dianne would’ve been more of a help than him. “Like she’s fine most of the time right? I make her happy? I try so hard and yet some days I can feel it like nothing could ever change it all.” He spoke looking and sounded defeated. 

“It’s not you T… She loves you so much. You make her happy, she’ll be okay, but she is the only one that can change it. You’re there for her and that’s the most important. She needs you and Teddy.” Lauren kept her eyes locked on his, making sure he knew she was being serious. She meant what she was saying. He couldn’t fix things but he was essential. Trent responded only with a soft ‘yeah.’ He thought to himself though that what you really needed was for him to repair your necklace and your relationship.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 21 xx

[xzhdjsj]

Fresh Wounds

Andrew Marston x Isaac Rhoades

After they broke up.

listen to THIS for the feels!

this is @kieran-rhoades fault EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU KIERAN!!!

-

"I'm headed straight for the floor The alcohol served its tour And it's headed straight for my skin Leaving me daft and dim"

Isaac who turned to alcohol the moment he arrived home. The combined emotions of losing his grandfather and leaving the only other person he held dear in his life weighed heavily on his heart and overwhelmed his mind. Yet, despite how much whiskey burned a firey path down his throat, the pain persists, raw and throbbing in his chest like an open wound. Tear stains streaked his cheek, refreshed by new layers that soak his eyelashes then dry into his skin over and over again.

Isaac who stayed slumped over his grandfather's desk, face buried into his hands, tormented by the harsh realities of his own life. Reminded of why he’d never allowed himself to find comfort in another person.

Isaac who drained the last drops of liquor into his mouth, tossing the glass bottle aside as he stubbled to his room. His body sinking as deeply into the mattress as he has into despair.

Isaac who’s never felt quite this lonely, despite spending most of his life alone. His vision clouded like his mind as he reminisced the better parts of his life no matter how fleeting or little they were.

Isaac who isn’t quite sure when his heavy eyelids gave out or when the arms of unconsciousness had enveloped him in its comforting embrace, only to be broken by nightmares that plagued his slumber. The warmth of his lover was no longer there to protect him or guard his sleep, just the crisp cold sheets that offered no solace.

Isaac in a house that doesn't feel like the home he'd discovered in Andrew's arms.

"I've got this shake in my legs Shaking the thoughts from my head But who put these waves in the door? I crack and out I pour"

Andrew who pushed his body to its limits until he couldn’t lift a pen or focus on his tasks anymore. He stared at his screen for hours, feet tapping on the wooden floor despite his usual intolerance for fidgeting.

Andrew who lost track of time, snapped back to reality with a knock on his door.

Andrew who excitedly swung his dorm room open hoping to see Isaac standing before him but was instead met with a random student he’d never paid any mind to or bothered to remember. A random student who handed him a flyer then moved to the next door down the hall, leaving a stunned Andrew in his doorway.

Andrew who crumbled the thin sheet of paper without sparing it a glance, tossing it into the bin and scolding himself for daring to hope. He chastised himself for even imagining Issac giving up his career to stay with him.

Andrew who attempted to neatly fold each memory and pack them into the recesses of his mind, determined not to shed tears over his lover’s happiness.

Andrew who failed miserably, collapsed onto his bed and crying into his palms as the overbearing loneliness engulfed him. Finally allowing himself to feel the emotions he had been avoiding, mourning a burnt bridge that was never intended to be rebuilt.

Yet, Andrew stared at the stars, wondering if Isaac did the same, desperately hoping Isaac did the same.

Andrew who convinced himself they would meet again when the time was right. Fooled himself he’d receive a call, a text or an email even.

"I'm Mr. Loverman And I miss my lover, man

But they weren't looking at the stars together, and their paths would never cross again. Isaac knew well what the future held, but Andrew held hope.

Fate had weaved its threads around their hearts then tore them apart like Velcro.

The perfect pair that was never meant to last.

I'm Mr. Loverman Oh, and I miss my lover"

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: people say suffering is what it means to be a shroud. you could not think more different.

WARNINGS: mentions of blood & self mutilation.

COMMENTS: PHEW THIS ONE WAS A DOOZY!!! idia stop being my muse pls 🙏🙏 i keep writing 2k - 3k word fics in one sitting because of you

“Don’t you wish the world treated him better?”

You blink, entranced by the swirls of green. The voice beckons you closer.

How was that door open...? It should have been closed, right...?

“Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else?”

More voices have joined.

“Don’t you want that for him and his brother?”

It sounds beautiful, like a symphony.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

You step closer, muscles relaxing as you slip under their spell. The voices are right. They deserved better. They should have been able to live where they pleased, to escape this island and their fate.

The voices giggle—they know they’re right.

They’ve reached you.

Black consumes your vision, blocking out the glowing green. You shut your eyes. Your world grows darker. There's a seizing in your chest and a fluttering in your heart as something pours into your body, staining you.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

“Set us free, and we’ll set all of you free.”

—

The hallways are blaring red, but all Idia sees is the floor swimming in his vision. Ortho is by his side as he punches access code after access code into the door panels, running like he’s never run before. He has a stitch in his side but he keeps going, your face flashing in his mind.

He lost Ortho once. He’s not losing someone again.

It’s like the stairs last forever, winding deeper and deeper into the Earth. Idia doesn’t stop running once, even though he feels like he’s going to fall over and throw up. He’s almost one-hundred percent certain Ortho has carried him at some point but his mind is too messy and his vision is too muddled to care.

Time seems to slow as he reaches the bottom. He raises his head as his ears ring, and the second he lays eyes on you it’s like his vision is clear again. Ink pours out of you and the black markings on your face are all too familiar. Blue fire spits out from behind you and your shrieks are heartbreaking, like you’re wailing for something you want so badly but could never have. Wings sprout from your back, broken and crooked, feathers twisted and clumped. Your hands are worn and bloody from stretching at the walls, and that’s when Idia realizes—

You want to be free.

Guilt crashes over him and it's a critical hit. Of course. He should have been sure this is what you wanted. He should have known you’d get sick of life here, even though you said you loved him time and time again, even though you held him on all those nights that he couldn’t sleep because the thoughts were too much, even though you bonded with Ortho and stepped back for him, letting him set boundaries even though that meant not doing things you wanted to do, like holding his hand or kissing his forehead or playing with his hair.

He should have known this wasn’t the life you wanted.

The ring on his finger feels like nothing more than a heavy stone now.

—

It took years for Idia to open up to you about his family situation. In fact, he seemed to be braced for the possibility that you’d leave him in a heartbeat after hearing it. Your heart ached for him when he explained his past and his inevitable future in a soft, low voice, rushing through the whole thing as if it was the scariest thing he’s ever done.

You placed your hand on his knee once he stopped, letting his words trail off into the night.

“I understand you.” you’d said, looking him straight in the eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkness of his room, flickering like a fire about to be put out.

Idia curled in on himself that night, dragging a clump of his hair over his shoulder and twisting it into knots. You’d reached over and gently grabbed his hands, stopping him from tangling his precious hair. You’d gently smoothed out the fiery strands before kneeling in front of him, looking up at him as if paying him reverence.

“I want to stay with you.” you’d said softly, cradling his shaking, fragile hands in yours.

In that moment, it felt like his very heart was beating between your intertwined hands.

Soft sniffles filled the room that night, and you kissed each tear away. More kept coming, more and more and more, his eyes blotchy and red as he tried to keep quiet. You kept quiet too, whispering how much you cared about him and how if he would let you, you’d stay with him forever because you loved him and he deserved someone by his side. You kissed each tear well into the night, fighting his overwhelming sorrow with your love.

—

Your memories are patchy. It’s like you don’t remember who you are, or where you are. In the dark expanse of your mind, you remember two things.

Idia Shroud and Ortho Shroud.

Your throat feels heavy as your heart starts to palpate—what happened? Where is the green glow? Where are all the comforting voices that whispered your new future to you?

Where were the people you were fighting for?

“Vitals stable.” a faraway voice calls, a sharp clatter piercing through your quiet, inky haze, “Commencing full body scan for blot.”

Blot...

Your eyelids pry themselves open. All the energy has been sapped from your body, your limbs heavy and useless. The strings holding them up have been cut, and it's scary that you can’t remember how you were strung up in the first place.

“Mx, we ask that you please stay still.” the man above you is in a white coat, his hands holding a clipboard and a pen.

You nod passively. Something about him seems familiar enough.

His voice drones on statistics about your well being as your eyes slip shut again, and arms of sludge reach out from your mind and pull you back under the ink, into a deep sleep.

—

Idia is chewing on his fingernails again.

He wishes you were here to scold him for it and paint a new coat over them so he wouldn’t chew on them anymore, being too sentimental to mess up your hard work and too repulsed by the taste, even though he would only ever tell you the latter and—

You were still asleep.

Your vitals are stable, You are fine.

You are fine but there are still black scars all over your body.

Your vitals are stable but the marks will stay there forever.

You almost died and it’s his fault.

You want freedom and he took that away when he said “I do.”

He kissed you and he sucked the soul right out of your body, keeping it clutched in his hands because he’s selfish and stupid and why in the world did you even fall in love with him in the first place?

He has nothing to offer you.

Nothing but this.

Suffering and loneliness and contempt and headaches and cold nights and machines that fill your whole day, leaving no room for the whimsical leisure you enjoyed before. There are no more board games, no more trips to the school store, no more fresh air and nighttime walks, no more watching movies and eating gummy worms, no more talking to anyone who isn’t him.

The ring on his finger burns.

—

You don’t know how long it's been since you went to sleep.

You wake up to a room with dark walls and metallic shelves above your head. The bed (cot?) is firm underneath your body, which is adorned by a gray uniform. There’s a desk right across from you with a tablet and a chair. You can’t see anything it’s hooked up to. The one constant among all of these things seems to be the triangular details, criss-crossing and curving and connecting with each other.

They make your vision spin, so you look away.

You stay in bed.

For some reason your face and neck sting, as does your back. You trace the parts of your face that burn, finding that the areas are almost symmetrical on both sides.

What happened?

“...Idia?” you whisper, your left hand resting over your smoothly beating heart.

The door opens.

Your heart lurches into your throat when you see a dark uniform, fiery blue hair that swings well past his elbows, and eyes that are sunken in. His skin is as pale as ever, his lips chapped and bitten by worry, his nails stubbed and torn, but—

He came.

But it’s him.

He came when you called.

“...Idia—!” you gasp, choking on your words as you lurch forward and cough, black ink splattering all over your gray shirt.

“Easy!” he yelps, rushing to your side. You feel his cold hand press against your back and you lean into the touch, starved for it.

“What happened?” you ask between smaller coughs, following his hand and he lays you back down.

Idia bites his lip. He does not answer.

Instead, he turns his back to you and moves over to the desk grabbing the tablet. He still doesn’t look at you as he taps a few bottoms. He gnaws on his lower lip before twisting the chair to face you and sitting down.

“How much do you remember?” he counters your question with another question, eyes heavier than usual.

“I remember green.” you whisper, the intriguing whispers poking into the corners of your mind again, “I remember voices...they said sweet things to me.”

Idia winces as if that’s the last thing he wants to hear.

“You overblotted.” he says, so blunt it surprises both of you, “You went...deeper than you should have, and you overblotted.”

You touch your face. The burning sensation wiggles as if it’s been recognized, and is pleased. It’s like there's something under your skin, something alive and yearning,that was waiting for him to say it.

“Oh.” you whisper, and in turn, the voices begin to beckon you again.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud. Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else? It’s not fair, is it? He deserves better. His brother deserves better. You all do. We can help you, we can make that happen, you just have to help us—”

“They were phantoms.” you breathe, tracing the lines on your face over and over and over and over and over—

You don't notice when he gets up and reaches for you. Idia grabs your hand when it looks like you’re pressing too hard, your nails digging into your skin. You stop immediately, looking up at him with glossy eyes and trembling lips.

“Idia...is this what it means to be a Shroud?” you ask, forming each word carefully.

The phantoms said as much.

But he says nothing.

“I don’t blame you if you decided this isn’t what you want, you know.” he says, tone flat and disinterested, like you’re someone he doesn’t even know.

“What do you mean?”

“Your phantom looked like it wanted to be free.” he says, tablet still in his hand.

He pulls up the footage of your rage and shows it to you—your crooked, clumped wings and your bloody, inky hands and your screams as you cry for freedom, freedom—

He misunderstands.

“Not for me!” you seize his wrist, squeezing it so hard you fear it’ll break but this important, “For you! Freedom for you! It’s always you and it always will be you! I wanted you to be free and Ortho to be free. I wanted all of us to be free—!”

You start coughing again, this time even harder. Ink splatters on your bed and this time Idia is on you, he’s truly with you, cradling you against his chest as the ink stains his uniform as well. It pours out of you like a dead, polluted river, and yet in a twisted way it’s a symbol of how much you care.

You vaguely feel his nose pressing against your head in the haze, whispering what sounds like swears and pleads but none of it reaches your ears over the sound of your coughing. By the time you’re done, both of you are thoroughly painted with the remnants of blot.

The voices are gone.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” he whispers it into your head like it's a confession, meant for your ears and your ears only, “I thought you...wanted to leave here. Leave me.”

His arms are around you like a vice grip.

You’re grateful you’re alive to see him be selfish.

“Idia...my love.” you say, equally as soft, “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to be with you?”

“It’s hard to believe!” he protests, voice cracking.

He pulls away from you, just enough to look over your face. His eyes are watery and he’s so vulnerable—you really scared him. His thumb traces down the parts of your face that burned, the parts of your face you know will be scarred for life now.

“Good thing I’m still here then.” you smile weakly, cupping his face, “I’ll remind you every single day.”

His ring no longer burns.

His left hand rests over your left, and your rings clink together as they connect.

You’re okay. You still want him. You’re alive.

“You’re crazy.” Idia groans, stepping forward and falling into your arms, “You are absolutely crazy. Any normal person would be running for their life right now, calling me a freak and hyperventilating. A normal person would never want to come back—”

His slumps over you like a big cat, arms encircling you in warmth once again. It’s his way of hiding his expression when he’s getting a bit too into his feelings—you know this by now.

“Goodness. It’s a good thing I’m madly in love with you then.” you laugh, hands splayed out on his shoulder blades as he hugs you again, “You know what they say about love making you do crazy things.”

“Please don’t ever do that again—oh Great Seven.” he squeezes you even tighter and you let him, putty in his hands.

“I’m not planning on it. I promise.”  you reassure him, “I don't want to leave you—”

“It’s not about leaving me, you could have died!” he protests, cradling the back of your head, “I’d be fine if you just left! If you were somewhere else...somewhere safe!”

“You would not be okay with that. Don’t pretend to be.” you chastise him quietly, and you know you’ve won when he goes quiet, “You want to keep me here, and you want me to stay. I want the same thing. You don’t have to pretend I’m a sacrifice that can be made. I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re noble or a goody-goody.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then—

“I love you so much.” he mumbles.

It’s a rare confession, one that has never lost his sweetness even after years together.

Now this, this is what it means to be a Shroud.

It means staying with each other no matter what.

It couldn't be farther from loneliness.

“I love you too.” you murmur back, and his thumbs trace your blot scars as he presses a single, barely noticeable kiss to your forehead.

[missvelvetsstuff]

No Benefits

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are best friends until a drunken hook up. Bucky wants a friends with benefits situation because he doesn't feel ready for a relationship but reader knows that will lead to a broken heart.

Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.

Notes: Steve and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon

Chapter 10

Warnings: swearing, angst

Notes: I'm sorry this update took so long. I had a big dramatic scene in the meeting with Nick Fury planned but I wrote and rewrote it for three days and it just never hit right so, hopefully this works.

Lemme know what you think, I live for likes, shares and notes.

Nick Fury landed at the compound late Monday afternoon and went straight into Maria Hill's office to meet for over two hours. He left to go back to his quarters for food and sleep.

Maria immediately logged on to her computer to send a meeting invite to the Avengers for the next morning.

The team discussed the email over dinner in hushed and worried voices. Even Tony and Steve seemed concerned. Sharon was done with her treatment and appeared to be back to her normal self, even if she did act like the ankle monitor she was wearing weighed a ton. There was an ongoing investigation into when Antonia first gave her the serum, before or after Sharon became the Power Broker, so the ankle monitor helped Friday keep track of her and prevented her from going outside of the residence floor, common room and medbay.

Sharon grabbed the seat next to Bucky and was flirting with him, although more subtly than previously. Bucky moved his chair over as far as he could to get away from her until Sam elbowed him in his ribs. Sharon didn't get the hint and tried playing footsies with Bucky until he 'accidentally' kicked her in the shin while still wearing the steel toed boots he had on when he was playing keep away with Sam's shield earlier.

Sharon yelped "What the fuck Barnes? Are you wearing steel toes? You nailed me right in the shin. It's not bad enough that my other leg has that stupid monitor which makes my leg ache, if anyone cares."

Bucky shrugged "Shouldn't have been trying to play footsies." He smirked at her "and, No, no one cares. Maybe deciding to become a crime lord wasn't your best call, huh?"

Sharon shook her head as she felt her face heat up and stammered out "B-b-but I, I w-was just uh st-stretching mmmy legs."

Sam choked on his drink as he tried not to laugh "Fuck! Sorry, went down the wrong way."

Bucky smirked as Sharon glared at Sam then looked down swearing under her breath. "I helped you assholes and ended up an enemy of the state, I should have let Ross deal with all three of you."

Steve cleared his throat and looked at them like a disappointed father whose kids are acting up during dinner, which made Sam laugh out loud.

Tony sighed "Alright children. A little play to ease the tension is fine but this shit is serious. Fury is going to come down on all of us and I don't feel like taking his abuse for something that I wasn't involved with. You!" He pointed at Bucky and Sharon "And Romanoff, are the reason Cookie left so I vote for you taking the brunt of his anger."

Bucky looked down at his plate as he moved the food around. "I know and I plan on accepting responsibility for my part in it. I've been trying to figure out how to convince her to come back but I'm stuck. I'm open to any ideas."

Tony nodded, unconvinced "Riiight, good luck with that.

Well if anyone's interested, Romanoff is still in a holding cell while medical takes care of her. She's reportedly a difficult patient but seems to be improving."

There was a collective groan before Bucky shook his head "Pffft, not interested."

Sam snickered while Steve gave Bucky that dad look again to which Bucky just shrugged. "Well, I don't care. She's caused me too much trouble."

Steve sighed "She was being controlled, Buck. You can't hold her completely responsible."

"Maybe not but that doesn't mean I'm interested in her condition. I'm sure that the medical team will take care of her and it's not my problem. She was being weird even before all this drama. She tried to restart the whatever we had in the Red Room and I don't want her." His face dropped and he muttered sadly "I just want Cookie."

"Right, jerk." Steve looked around "It's getting late, we should all get some rest so we're up to dealing with this meeting tomorrow."

The others nodded and mumbled agreement before getting up to clean and heading to their rooms. Sharon tried again to talk to Bucky but he strode away too quickly for her to catch him.

Bucky tried to sleep but couldn't, like most nights since he pushed Cookie away he laid in his bed staring at the ceiling. Looking at the 'glow in the dark' galaxy and blue twinkle lights that Cookie decorated his room with. She said it was too impersonal and decorated with posters, soft pillows with matching blankets and such. All space related, galaxy patterns. Usually it was calming but not right now.

Now he spent most of his time either in therapy, writing to Cookie or wallowing. Feeling angry at being controlled again, feeling sorry for himself, feeling empty because she wasn't here.

He got up to sit at his desk and write another letter to her. The letters started as declarations of his love and apologies for his actions, whether he was in control of himself or not. Now they were a running commentary of each days events and activities, plus whatever topics branched off from that, like they used to have in the evenings after dinner. They would lay on his bed with his music playing softly, holding hands and staring at the galaxy overhead, talking about their day and whatever else came to mind. Sometimes they had stayed awake talking until the sun came up.

Bucky fell asleep at his desk as he was writing, only to be jolted awake by Friday. An alarm and reminder of the meeting in 1 hour. A hot shower didn't help wake him up so he headed to the kitchen for coffee. He grumbled the entire way, Fury scheduling a meeting at 5am was just cruel and unusual, Bucky knew it was just the beginning of the punishments they would endure until things were set right.

Just to ensure that this day was shit from the gate, the first face Bucky saw was Nat, in the kitchen. He sighed and cursed his luck.

Nat smirked "Morning Barnes, you look like you haven't slept. I can come by later and help tire you out." She practically purred.

Bucky scoffed "Hard pass." Proud of himself for remembering some of the current slang that Cookie had been trying to teach him. As he looked down he noticed Nats ankle monitor and chuckled "Nice jewelry you've got there."

Nat scowled at him "Fuck you, Barnes."

Bucky smirked "In your dreams" as Nat stomped off.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and headed towards the conference room where Steve was already waiting. He grunted a greeting to Steve and took a seat. The rest of the team trickled in until a few minutes before 5 when Nick Fury strode in, Maria Hill following right behind. Tony ambled in shortly after and sat down.

Three hours later, everyones ears were ringing from the yelling. As they walked out of the conference room, Bucky and Sam were arguing over how many times Fury hollered "mother fucker/s" over the course of the meeting.

Sam just shook his head "I've never met a man who could yell for that long without losing his voice." He looked at Bucky then towards Sharon and Nat

"All y'all better get your acts together because if I ever have to sit through 3 hours of being yelled at by Nick Fury for something I didn't do again, someone's gonna pay."

Fury had cancelled all leave, every extra perk the team had and assigned additional training and chore duty. None of them would be having much fun anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every day Cookie came home from work there was another letter from Bucky. She ate dinner alone, staring at the stack of letters, afraid to find out what they said.

Every time she thought about it she started thinking he was ending their friendship for good, then argued with herself that he wouldn't keep writing if that were the case.

On Friday night she sat on the couch eating takeout with the news on in the background. It almost felt like the letters themselves were calling out to her. Once she finished eating she cleaned up her mess and poured a second glass of wine. She sat back on the couch, turned the news off and turned some soft jazz music on before looking at the stack and sighing.

Cookie took a long drink of her wine before finally picking up the first letter. She looked over it for a few minutes, searching for any hint of what was said inside but it was just a plain envelope with Bucky's writing.

She carefully opened it and pulled the papers out. She took another drink to calm her nerves and unfolded the papers, gasping when something fell out, onto her lap. She looked down and her eyes grew wide as she picked up Bucky's dog tags. He never took them off, being one of the few items left from his past, he was very attached to them.

Cookie looked at the tags only to notice a second pair of tags. They were nicer than the set the Army gave Bucky when he enlisted. They had his full name and nickname, birth date with his birthstone and instead of his serial number it said 'Property of Y/N Y/L/N, bka Cookie, please call or return to the Avengers compound.' She laughed and couldn't hold the sob in.

With tears running down past the smile on her face, she put the dog tags over her head, held them against her heart and started reading.

Dear Cookie,

I'm not sure where to start, I have so much to say and the words keep getting mixed up in my head.

I miss you, more than I ever imagined missing someone. This place feels empty and cold without your warmth, your smile lit up my days and now everything seems dark.

I'm so, so sorry for everything, I never wanted to hurt you. I've only ever wanted to love and worship you like the goddess you are.

You probably already found my dog tags, I want you to have them. The other set were kinda meant as a joke but it's true. You own my heart and I think you always will.

I knew, that first day we met, that you were it for me. I know it might not have seemed like it at first but you scared me. The way my body reacted to your simple handshake scared the Hell outta me. I was a mess and you were so beautiful and smart. And caring, patiently waiting for me to come out of my shell. I know you deserve a better man than me but my time with Doctor Raynor has taught me that I do deserve happiness and good things.

The night we spent together was the best night of my life. I was finally feeling like I could be the man you deserve and even if you hate me and never want to speak to me again, I will Always hold the memory of that night, of being with you, making love to you, that feeling that everything is exactly how it's meant to be. I'll never let that go, even if I live another 107 years.

I'm sorry that our bliss was destroyed so quickly but if you let me, if you want to, we can rebuild it into something stronger.....

The letter went on with an update on life in the compound and Bucky's thoughts about everything. Cookie skimmed through that part, Sam had been keeping her updated on the gossip so she barely paid attention.

The letter finished....

I hope you are happy where you are now and I'm sorry for avoiding you. I didn't think I deserved your forgiveness or grace but now, I'm hoping I can earn both and prove to you that nothing is more important to me than your happiness.

All my love,

JBB

Cookie held the letter and dog tags to her chest as she cried herself to sleep, a deep restful sleep like she hadn't experienced in a long while.

@erelierraceala @capswife @ozwriterchick @cjand10 @wintrsoldrluvr @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @browneyedgrli @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hhiggs @dontworryboutitsweetheart-blog @behindmygreyeyes @pattiemac1 @calwitch @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @ordelixx @blackhawkfanatic @casey1-2007 @scott-loki-barnes @selella @hiireadstuff @winterschildren8

[argisthebulwark]

This Weight Upon My Shoulders Won't Fade

summary: How they react to seeing you cry. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Vilkas, Cicero, Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf, Erandur, Arnbjorn warnings: brief mention of injury, lots of stress masterlist

Vilkas panics. He's terrified that you're hurt and begins searching you for injuries. Hastily, he takes mental notes - no sign of blood, no apparent bruising, perhaps it's internal? You haven't been eating well, it could be causing you pain. He pauses when you sniffle and tell him that you aren't injured it's just been an especially rough week. "What do you need?" He's earnest, prepared to shoulder any task that will make your life easier. "What can I do?" "Just - just sit with me for a bit." He eases into the chair at your side and tugs you onto his lap. Vilkas' heart breaks when you cuddle into him and he feels the quivering of your shoulders, uneven breaths puffed out against his skin. He's content to hold you while you cry, pressing kisses to your head and promising that he will take on all of your duties if you need. He's no stranger to responsibility.

Cicero's soft fingers frame your face and peppers kisses across your sore cheeks. Gentle thumbs swipe at your tears, his voice dripping with compassion when he finally speaks. "My Listener, I vow to kill whoever hurt you. I will hunt them down." Your laugh eggs him on, the sad little smile on your face all the encouragement he needs. "Would that make you feel better? Your loyal Cicero to put someone in the ground for you?" His threats escalate, becoming goofier and more outlandish with each giggle he summons from you. He's deliriously proud of himself when you're laughing through your tears, eyes squeezed shut and thankfully beginning to dry. "Should we go out together? I'm sure there's a contract or two waiting around." Cicero urges, offering you one of his beloved blades. "You already made me feel better." You sigh, a grateful kiss planted on his lips. Cicero's a bit shocked - he made you feel better? "I don't deserve you, my Keeper."

Miraak threatens to burn the world for displeasing you. He sinks to his knees, malice lacing his voice when he demands the name of whoever has dared to harm you. He doesn't bother worrying over any repercussions - his world has narrowed down to the tears brimming in your eyes. "Miraak -" "A name, my love." He softens his tone, terrified by the tears spilling down your cheeks. One scarred hand raises to wipe them away but they do not cease. Miraak's blood runs cold when you collapse into his chest, sobs racking your body. "I will tear it all down." He murmurs, allowing you to burrow into his robes. "I will burn the world for hurting you, my dragon." "Can you just stay here instead?" He's relieved to hear a touch of humor in your voice. "Burning the world down can wait. It's not going anywhere."

Farkas gathers you into his broad chest, one hand rubbing across your back. He knows just how much you've been handling since becoming Harbinger and wishes he could take some of the burden for you. He's witnessed the ways your role has broken you down - dark circles under your eyes after the sleepless nights and cheer in your voice nearly gone after another boring meeting. "So proud of you." He mumbles, allowing you to cry into his tunic. "It's so much." His heart drops at your voice - gods, how he misses the easy way you'd once laughed together. "It's all so much, I don't know how much more I can take." "I'll handle all the recruits." "No, that's not your job -" "It is now. Recruiting and training is mine." Farkas wipes at your messy face, relieved when you nod. "And Vilkas can handle all the stuffy meetings." "I couldn't put that on him." "He'll bitch and moan but he's good at that stuff." He kisses your head once more, resolved to never let it get this far again. "Don't worry, honey. We'll take care of everything."

Brynjolf extends a hand for you, offering to show you somewhere quiet. His footsteps are silent when he leads you down to the docks and clambers atop the fishery. The smell isn't exactly pleasant but he's correct - all that chatter from the market and the Flagon are gone, replaced with the soft lapping of waves against old wood. Nestled far from the rest of town he bundles you into his cloak and kisses the top of your head. Lake Honrich's winds are chilly but his warmth keeps that at bay. "Alright, love." He sighs, one arm slung over your shoulders. "Let's hear it. Get it all out." God, it feels good to get everything off your chest. Brynjolf has no shortage of responsibilities but you've never experienced anything like being the Guild Master. You are constantly pulled in a dozen different directions. Everyone needs your full attention at all times. Tasks and assignments have piled up over the months until you're practically drowning under them. "Y'know, I hear you've got a second in command you could assign the bullshit to." Brynjolf finally speaks once you've spilled your guts. "Fairly competent if my reports are correct. Handsome lad, too."

Erandur is fairly sure his heart breaks at the sight. Careful fingers wipe at the fat tears rolling down your cheeks as sweet words fall from his lips. He's seen you hurt before, certainly - he's carried you for miles after attempting to heal a broken bone or close a terrible wound but this anguish is new. "What can I do, my beloved?" He coos, gathering you into his arms. He can't help it, this compulsion to fix everything for you. "Should I draw you a bath? Or we could retire to bed early this evening, chores can wait until the morning." When he sinks into a warm bath at your side, Erandur's terrified by the clammy hands that clasp his. You are powerful, his fearless savior. He's never seen this bone deep exhaustion in you. "It's all so much." You finally mutter when he massages soap into your tense shoulders. "Being the Dragonborn - it's more than one person can handle." "I will carry whatever burdens you permit me to, my love." He murmurs, glad when your tired eyes fall closed. He will offer you anything he can, even if it is simple comfort.

Arnbjorn freezes. His brain halts at the sight of you storming past his workstation with angry tears shimmering in your eyes. It's been years since he's been this emotionally invested - he's forgotten how to handle this. "Hey." He's shocked by the rage in your eyes when you glare over at him, hands clenched at your sides. "Meeting go badly?" "You cannot imagine." Uh oh, he hasn't heard that tension in your voice in ages. "Wanna hit somethin'?" Your acceptance is quite the relief. He keeps a careful hand on the hilt of his latest sword, ensuring that it remains on the workbench when your hammer slams down on the blade. Over and over the sound of metal rings through the Sanctuary, a convenient cover for the angry sobs that slip past your gritted teeth. The forge has dried your tears before they can fall. Once your arms are numb and muscles feel dangerously limp you turn to him, all that burning rage drained away. Arnbjorn doesn't say a word, merely plucking the tools from your quivering hands and pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

[allthelovenina]

can u write smth about levi and seven minutes in heaven?🤭🤭

Hi bestie! Here's your request. I hope y'all enjoy it.

Modern AU! College! Levi x reader

Slightly not sfw I guess?

Excuse my broken English in advance :")

Levi had been done with college parties after the freshman year, yet he found himself in Hange's stupid party.

Hange was a close friend of Levi, the party was supposed to be a "small birthday party" which he assumed there would only be the sophomores. The thing is, Hange already knew Levi had a crush on you for a year and half now and of course, Levi never confessed this but he didn't have to do so for someone as sharp as Hange to understand. Plus, teasing Levi has always been Hange's favorite hobby, so they invited you and your group of friends as well.

There sat on the floor Levi, Hange, Mike, Erwin, Nanaba and Moblit, the Juniors and You, Jean, Mikasa (Levi's gloomy cousin), Eren, Sasha and Connie, the sophomores, playing seven minutes in heaven.

If Levi was doubtful that Hange had it all planned out, the fact that they made him sit infront of y/n during playing game left no place for any doubt. Before he knew it, he was in a dark room with you. Levi was a simple man, he was left in a room alone with you his heartbeat would fasten. Of course, you had no idea how nervous he was so you broke the silence by a question that had always been stuck to your mind.

"Do you hate me, Levi?" You asked.

Levi felt his heart dropped by your question "Huh? Why are you asking such a dumb question?"

You let out a sign "You always look away when I look at you. I remember you would talk to me a lot more at the beggining of my freshman year, but after a while you...cut me off. What happened?"

'Idiot piece of shit, look what you've done'

Levi cursed himself in his mind. In reality he never meant to ghost you or ignore you, he was just scared of his feelings. Afraid that his non platonic, totally romantic affection for you would ruin your friendship. So he ignored his feelings at first and still talked to you for a week after his realisation but then, he saw some dude trying to hit on you which you had no idea of this guy's intentions but that was when Levi decided to go out of touch with you. You clearly had no feelings for him and it hurt him more to see you with another guy when he was just a friend. So he left, he didn't think it would be this long though. He assumed it would take him a few weeks to move on and then he could come back to you again with no romance involved as a friend.

But his anticipation was far from reality. The distance only lead him to crave you more and fall deeper, so he never came back.

But...you sounded so hurt and he hated it. He never thought his avoidance would hurt you.

"That's completely the opposite."

'Quit being a coward, Ackerman.'

"Huh?" You asked in confusion.

"The reason why I cut you off was that I was trying to process my feelings for you and...shut them down I guess."

The little light that entered the room through the small space beneath the door was enough for Levi to see your eyes, wide shut in surprise.

"Are...you saying that you ignored me cause you had a crush on me?"

Thank heavens the room was dark enough for you to see Levi blushing, playing in favor of Levi with the little light exposing your expression to him while as the same time the darkness prevented you from seeing his. "Yeah...I'm sorry never meant to hurt your feelings"

'This idiot.' echoed in your mind.

You grabbed his collar and pulled him close, giving him a kiss on his lips. Oh no one knows how badly you wanted to taste them all this time.

Levi was shocked, but after a second or two, he just let the flow take him wherever. He kissed you back, closed his eyes as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you even closer. He felt his cheeks burning, the heat was taking his body. It felt like he was a teenager once again. He placed one of his hands on your nape, he ran his hands all over it. Gently massaging your nape.

You pulled back to catch breath. "W...what was...that?" Levi asked.

"You're a fucking idiot...you know that?" You replied as you were still panting.

"I had a crush on you too."

This time, Levi's eyes were wide shut. There were so much he wanted to say right now. He just couldn't find the words. He wanted to tell you more about his feelings, like how he was slightly sad all the time ever since he had cut you off and how badly he wanted to punch anyone who talked shit about you, how many nights he got drunk alone only to find himself starring at your pictures on social media or your contact number, debating whether to call you or not

He didn't say a word, instead pulled you back in his arms and leaned his head to your neck, kissing it passionatly like a thirsty man who just found water. You placed one hand on his shoulder and another through his undercut, then through his sculp, tugging his hair playfully as he found the sensitive spot on your neck which made you moan quietly. "Levi..."

Maybe it was the alchohol in his system or maybe the dopamine in his body that made him so brave and courageous. "You still like me don't you?"

You rolled your eyes as you were trying calm down from his earlier touch. "No shit Scherlock."

"Be mine then, I'll make you happy, I promise."

So blunt, no poetic line. Typical Levi, you didn't expect him to be anything different anyways. What you didn't expect was what he'd just said.

You remained silent, trying to process the whole thing. Never thought the night would turn out like this, in fact you did dream this situation a few times in sleep.

Before you could say anything, the door was opened, the sudden exposure of light hurt your eyes that had already got used to the darkness. Hange let out a loud laughter as they found you two clinging to eachother.

"My, my! Look at you guys!"

You blushed, felt embarrassed as you were cought in 4k. Levi let out an annoyed groan and frowned. "Shut up four eyes!"

#

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

'To get into character.'

We have seen so many bl character's hearts breaking at this word. Friend. Who knew that could be something more heartbreaking than that. I screamed. And just as @lurkingshan said here I could hear Hayama's heart breaking. My heart sank. I couldn't believe the words that were coming out of Shirasaki's mouth. It was so cruel. And Hayama was paralyzed. Even as Shirasaki was kissing him he didn't move an inch. His eyes wide open. As I watching I kept thinking, is he going to give in? and that's probably what was going through his mind as well. Does he allow himself one last memory? or should he just stop there and move on? In the end I was happy he stopped himself when he did. He let himself get swept way in the moment but caught himself. Up until this moment, 'faking it' for the sake of the show, was a source of happiness. A way to create beautiful memories. But he couldn't cross that line. Because for him that meant this would no longer be a beautiful memory. And as soon as he got up he didn't dare to look back. He didn't glance at Shirasaki again. Because if he did, he might go weak again and ruin it. Because like he said "Right now, I can still end it with a beautiful memory."

Daytime Dream

The show within the show has been working almost like its title. From Hayama's perspective since it began it was a way to staying close to Shirasaki. It has been allowing him to spend time with him creating beautiful memories. They've been purposefully mirroring the show for the sake of Shirasaki's acting. And now the show is over and they're lost. Because as much as it's been about the show, when the cameras weren't rolling they shared real moments. They entered each others lives and inhabited each others spaces. And the spaces they shared are now haunted by those moments.

'For the last time'

Since the last episode, we've been talking about running. @lurkingshan @emotionallychargedtowel and myself have been trying to predict who will be the one doing the running. (Here and here)

And I've been split between who I think will do the running and who I think should do the running. And this episode left me with another option. No one will do the running.

There are two lines specially that I keep coming back to and they are from the show within the show.

'Ryouji and Takumi have slept together once' - The episode ends with Hayama stopping Shirasaki from leaving. And the only thing we get from the preview is Shirasaki still in the living room except that now the sun seems to be rising. And although I loathe trusting previews, I think this means that they do sleep together. Once at least.

'Ryouji decides to leave for Takumi's sake.' - Although Hayama is the one who plays Ryouji I think Shirasaki will do exactly that. He will leave before Hayama wakes up because he think that's what he needs to do for his sake.

Look, I don't need all bl's to have happy endings. In fact some of them might be better without them. But I must admit, I will be wrecked if I don't get one here. I'm not saying it will be bad, I'm not saying it won't be satisfying from a narrative point. I have no idea honestly. But more than anything, I want to see Hayama with a full smile before this ends. For my sanity.

But if there is a happy ending and if what I said before actually happens, and they sleep together and Shiraki leaves without saying goodbye. Then, Shirasaki needs to be the one who runs. Because Hayama has had his heart broken twice now, and even after that he's the one who reaches first by stopping Shirasaki from leaving. Because let's not forget. Shirasaki is not completely in the dark about Hayama's feelings. He did hear Hayama tell Yamase he didn't know if he liked him. So I need Shirasaki to reach back this time. Not for the show, but for Hayama and himself.

[luvtak]

if you had forever, lfx x reader

✰ genre/tw fluff! a little hurt comfort? kisses, pet names, unedited <3

✰ w/c 1197

✰ hi my loves!! this one has been in my docs for six weeks now loll and as yesterday was my 21 birthday I felt now was the perfect time to post it!! i love you all 🤍

The air was hot, starting fires on your skin where the water didn’t touch, rising up and down your calf as the waves came and receded. Even with your eyes closed you could see it, blue green water rushing closer and closer until it falls back, that familiar shhhh rising in your ears as the salt-water reaches your legs. Skin sticky from sand and sunscreen, goosebumps rising on your thighs… cold water running down your legs like your lover's hands. Your friends sing along to the music flowing from half-broken speakers, a simple pop song from your childhood that everyone knows the words to. 

You can hear them singing along, voices mingling together as they follow the chorus–good, bad, and gravelly; the song of summer. 

Even from the outskirts of the party, you can feel the joy seeping into your sun bitten skin, mingling into the bluesy sadness that’s crept up on you. All the laughter, all the smiles remind you of fuzzy pictures of adolescence, here one day gone the next. Days just like this, nothing but a photo in a long forgotten album, waiting for this one to join them. 

Your boyfriend is around here somewhere, enjoying the salt air and the fast-paced sound of his youth. You came here together, but you haven’t seen him since your first drink–about three drinks ago. He’s probably somewhere with Chris or Jisung, getting into trouble… He’s probably having the time of his life, smiling that smile that rivals the sun, and giggling at his friends. He probably looks beautiful. 

It’s this reason why you’re yearning for him, staring into the wide expanse of the ocean and begging for him to show himself soon. The last drink seems to be working its way through your veins with the unwanted guest of melancholy; tainting your blood with the familiar fear that this will be the last time you do this. If Felix was here he’d hold you close and smile away the doubts, he’d remind you that as long as he loves you there’ll be beach days and good friends, oceans and laughter. If Felix was here, you wouldn’t be so sad, but you can’t seem to find him.  

You’ve always been adept at the blues, wearing your sadness like it was a career rather than a fleeting feeling. Anxiety pooling in your belly like a sick desire for the worst to come, worries tickling your tongue, and pounding through your brain. The feeling eating at you now is one your know well–it’s the sinking acknowledgment of time moving, the melody of birthdays and holidays past, a happiness that is so diluted with sadness that the joy barely exists. 

It's hard to explain why blue skies and your friend's voices make you sad, maybe it’s the tide turning… A siren song reminding you to hold them close. You wish you could find your boy, bury the listless worries into his chest, and rise again clear headed. 

Countless minutes have passed by, just staring at the water, watching the waves pull in and ease itself back out. Breathing in and out in time with the tide, one with the living sea. 

You hear him before you see him, the quick steps through the sand and his deep breath alerting you to his presence. The one person you wanted to see, staring at you like it's not your heart he’s made a home out of, like you’re just a pretty girl he wants to take a bite out of. 

He’s devastating to look at, gorgeous and dreamy like a prince out of a storybook. A boy so beautiful he must’ve been born from the sun; radiant and blinding, and somehow he belongs to you. 

The stars are peeking over the waves now, blinking down at you like his eyes when he first wakes up; the friendliest constellations you’ve ever seen. 

“What’ya doing all the way out here?” his voice, brings a warm pool of light to sit in your gut. Oh how special this boy is.

“Nothing, just needed a couple seconds to myself.” you say. 

“Does that mean you want me to go?” 

“Never.” 

Felix’s eyes, impish and fairylike, are alight with mischief. He’s looking at you like he’ll trick you and tease you and make you fall in love with him before the sun comes up, as if you weren’t already. His body hasn’t moved an inch, made no move to touch you, yet the way his gaze rakes over you mirrors all the times he’s felt your skin before. You can almost feel him, wrapping his hands around you and settling his rosebud smile down your neck. 

With catlike grace, he moves closer, settling himself down next to you in the sand, and still he won’t touch you. 

“Did you get sad again, Honey?” he’s slightly slurring, sliding one word into the next, but the warmth in his voice pierces your heart. You’re not sure how to answer, was it sadness? Really you think you missed him, yearned for his company in such a silly way that sucked all the happiness out of your lungs; took too many shots of nostalgia without his hand to hold and had to sit down. 

“Just a little, but it’s better now that you’re with me.” 

“My love, I’m always with you.” 

You’re shocked, not for the first time, at the casual way he confesses his love to you. Speaking words of romance as easily as muttering off a grocery list–It’s the sincerity that gets you, the full body awareness that this is the truth.

 At once, your arms slide over his shoulders and rest against his neck; breathing in the assurance that his scent gives. He responds in seconds, so fast you think this is what he’s been waiting for–waiting to touch you until you grasped for him. His hold is tight andeverything you’ve ever wanted, and his heart is beating so fast. 

In his kiss is every wish you’ve ever made, safe and seductive all at once. 

“I love you so much” murmured in between kisses, and you don’t know who says them. All you know is the feel of his lips on your skin–the spellbinding way he unspools you, untangling anything else but him from your mind. 

There's no way you can go back to the party after this, covered in sand and kisses; drunk on Felix and his liquid courage, yet no part of you longs for home. You would stay like this, breathing his air and warming his bones. 

If you had forever, every day would be like this–in love and dreaming into him. If you had forever you’d double not his veins to yours and live inside his skin… If you had forever, every moment would be this kiss. 

Yet time keeps moving, and eventually the sand cools and the music is turned down. Felix moves away, close enough his nose swipes against yours, but far enough you can’t catch his grin. He’s smiling that perfect smile, the one that sinks ships in your belly and brings home to your heart. 

“Should we go home, My love?” he asks.

And who are you to refuse him?

LUVTAK © 2023

[porcelainmortal]

for the kiss thing plz

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss firstprince :)

henry pov plz :)

Thank you for the ask, @onthewaytosomewhere!

I received this same ask twice and offered Mel the option of choosing another color heart or getting Henry's POV of the ficlet I posted earlier. I had this in my head while I wrote the other version, just in case, and I was delighted to get to write it down. I hope you enjoy!!

When Henry kissed Alex in the early hours of New Year’s Day 2020, it was entirely impulsive. He surprised himself by acting on years of desire, emboldened by too much alcohol and his frustration with Alex’s inability to understand him. Henry was so sure that he’d ruined everything, but Alex had surprised him by pulling him into the Red Room at the State Dinner and kissing him again. 

Now, several years on, kissing Alex is still one of Henry’s favourite pastimes. He can’t imagine any situation in which he’d turn down a kiss from Alex, who kisses with all the intensity and passion that he does everything else in life. It’s a little embarrassing to admit, even to himself, but Henry is slightly addicted to it. 

Which is why he absolutely loves it when Alex sneaks up on him at random times to lay one on him. Everything from a soft, chaste kiss that would be acceptable in polite company, to a searing kiss that makes his knees weak and inevitably leads to things they can only do in private, Henry is eager for them all. He knows Alex loves it too, and Henry wants to sneak up and surprise kiss him in return. But he always seems to be spoiling it somehow and Alex can sense him coming no matter what. 

One time, he’d nearly gotten his nose broken and ruined a fresh bowl of guacamole. After that, he swore to never try and sneak up on Alex again.

And yet, an opportunity presents itself one day that Henry can’t quite resist. He’s been in meetings at the shelter all day, but his last one was cancelled – a small miracle, for which Henry thanks all the gods he knows. 

When he returns to the brownstone, he’s a good ninety minutes earlier than expected, though he’s surprised to find it empty. He toes off his shoes by the front door, calling for Alex and David, but neither of them appear. It’s early summer but not as hot as it has been the past week, so Henry’s not surprised to look out the French doors that lead to the back patio and see David snoozing under a tree while Alex waters the gardens.

He realises that Alex is sufficiently distracted and he might actually have his chance. He eases the door open, stepping out onto the deck in his stockinged feet. Leaving the door cracked so as not to make any excessive noise, Henry sneaks down to the grass, stepping up right behind Alex. When it’s clear he still hasn’t been heard, it’s all he can do to bite back a giggle. 

Henry reaches out to grab Alex and turn him quickly, Henry’s arms wrapping around that narrow waist to steady him. He delights, probably a bit too much, in the shock that registers on Alex’s face in the split second before Henry is pulling him into a deep kiss. When they’re both out of breath, Henry pulls back and it’s clear that Alex is feeling the effects of that kiss as well. 

“Hello, love.” Henry can’t fight the satisfied smile splitting his cheeks.

“Hi,” Alex breathes out, staring up at Henry with a dazed look on his face. “You’re home early.”

Henry can’t resist being a little cheeky, teasing Alex about how he finally managed to surprise him. Alex brushes it off, blaming the noises in the yard, but Henry won’t let him off that easily. 

He leans towards Alex, wanting so badly to kiss him again, but unable to resist the urge to toy with him a bit. Alex’s eyes are locked on Henry’s mouth, clearly waiting for him to make the next move, but Henry holds back. He watches Alex, his eyes roaming that stunning face, waiting for his brown eyes to find Henry’s again.

“Okay, you surprised me, alright?” Alex admits with a roll of his eyes. “Just kiss me again.”

“Yes, love,” Henry says, all too happy to comply. He pulls Alex in again, revelling in the crush of their lips and the sweet press of Alex’s tongue. The sun shines down and David snore in the shade and the birds keep chirping and Henry kisses Alex.

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