#she is stubborn and no one can change her mind once she's set on something and she will fight she doesn't care who you are

[helen-with-an-a]

sucker for angst can I please request one where putellas!reader is the youngest and gets a heart attack on the field and mapi is the first one to do cpr (alexia is almost inconsolable) very angsty with comforting end

Hiiii - thank you so much for this, I loved writing it. I tried to keep the details of CPR to a minimum, but also I was a lifeguard for over 5 years, and being trained in CPR was essential in our work, so the CPR instructions are true and accurate. I hope that this might stick in someone's mind and should the worst ever happen, you mind be able to remember what to do.

Memory

Barça Femeni x Reader ; Alexia Putellas x sister!Reader

Description: Memory is a blessing and a curse when the Reader falls unconscious during a match

Content Warning: CPR, Medical issues, Illness

Word Count: 6.7k

Alexia prided herself on her memory. It was something she was exceptionally confident in, a skill that had always set her apart. Every little detail, from the exact dates of events to the clothes people were wearing, and even who said what, was meticulously catalogued in her mind.

She could never forget the day her world began to change, the day she first learned about you. Eleven-year-old Alexia was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor beside Alba both of them barely able to contain their excitement as Mami and Papi called them over. The room had an air of something important, something life-altering. And then, with a smile that Alexia could still see in her mind's eye, her mother gently placed a hand on her growing belly and told them the news. Frijolita, they said. A little bean. That’s what they called you before you even had a name. You were the baby who would soon complete their family, the littlest sister who would turn their duo into a trio. Alexia had felt a surge of excitement and responsibility all at once. The idea of having a new sibling was thrilling, but there was something deeper, an unspoken promise she made to herself to always look out for you.

The memory of your actual arrival was just as vivid. Alexia had just turned twelve, the birthday balloons still clinging to the walls of her room. It was the early hours of the morning when her Tío gently shook her awake, his voice hushed but full of excitement. "She's here," he whispered. She had leaped out of bed, her heart racing, and hurried to the hospital, the world outside still dark and quiet. The moment she saw you, bundled up and sleeping peacefully, she felt a connection so strong it was as if she had known you her entire life. You were tiny, fragile, yet perfect. She cried when she met you – the tears slipping down her cheeks as she pressed the gentlest of kisses to your forehead, promising that she would do anything to protect you.

As the years passed, you grew, and so did Alexia's collection of memories. She remembered a three-year-old you, all curiosity and energy, those wide hazel eyes – so much like hers – looking up at her with an innocent plea. You wanted to join her in the backyard as she practiced her skills, your small hands tugging at her shirt, your voice insistent. Despite your age, your determination was unwavering, and Alexia couldn’t resist. She let you chase after the ball, your laughter ringing through the air, a sound that still echoed in her heart.

Then there was the memory of a five-year-old you, stubborn as ever, refusing to be left out. You had clambered onto her lap with surprising force, your small arms wrapping around her as if you were afraid to let go. It was a day she could never forget – your mother sitting on the couch, tears streaming down her face, her heart breaking over your father. The room was heavy with grief, but you, in your innocent determination, had climbed into Alexia's lap as if she could shield you from the sadness, as if being close to her would make everything better. And in that moment, Alexia held you tightly, whispering reassurances she wasn’t even sure of herself. You had looked up at her with those same hazel eyes, filled with trust, and she had made another silent promise – to be the strongest she could, to be strong for you, even when the world around them seemed to be falling apart.

You were ten when you nearly broke her front door down one Saturday afternoon, bursting into the house with a flurry of excitement and noise that filled every corner. The commotion you caused was so overwhelming that it convincingly distracted her from the anger and confusion that had first crossed her mind. She had been startled by the loud banging, wondering who could be causing such a ruckus, but all of that was forgotten the moment she saw you.

"They want me! They want me!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the house as you ran from room to room, barely able to contain your excitement. Nala  was just as caught up in the moment, barking and dancing around your feet as if she, too, understood the magnitude of what was happening. You were like a whirlwind, full of energy and joy, and it took a full thirty minutes before you could calm down enough to finally show her the papers you had been clutching so tightly.

When she saw the bold lettering at the top – FC Barcelona La Masia – her heart skipped a beat. Barcelona wanted you. Her little sister, the one she had watched grow and develop her skills with relentless passion, had been noticed by one of the most prestigious football institutions in the world. It was more than a dream come true; it was a validation of all the hard work, all the sacrifices, and all the moments of doubt you had overcome.

As you stood there, beaming with pride, she felt a rush of emotions – pride, joy, and an overwhelming sense of love. This wasn’t just about football; this was about you stepping into a world that would shape your future. And it wasn’t just you – both of you were going to be a part of this journey. The Putellas sisters, together, taking on Barcelona one football game at a time. The thought of the two of you, side by side, wearing the Blaugrana that meant so much to both of you, filled her with an unshakable sense of pride.

But that was just the beginning.

You were sixteen when the next milestone came, a moment that felt like a leap forward in your already impressive journey. You were asked to join the First Team for training. The First Team – the very thought of it was overwhelming. These were players you had idolised, professionals whose skills you had studied and admired. Your sister and all her friends. And now, at just sixteen, you were being invited to train alongside them, to learn from them, to be a part of the team you had dreamed of since you were a little girl kicking a ball around in the backyard.

She remembered how nervous you were that day, how you had paced around the house, trying to hide the anxiety that had crept up alongside your excitement. But she knew you better than anyone, and she could see it in your eyes—the mix of fear and determination that drove you. You were stepping into a new world, one where the stakes were higher, the expectations greater. But she also knew that if anyone was ready for this challenge, it was you.

Then, at seventeen, the dream became even more real. You signed your official first-team contract, a moment that felt both surreal and inevitable. She could still picture the moment when you put pen to paper, your hands steady despite the weight of the moment. This was what you had worked for, what you had sacrificed so much for. It was a culmination of years of dedication, of early mornings and late nights, of triumphs and setbacks. And as you looked up at her, holding that contract in your hands, she saw the same determination in your eyes that had always been there, but now there was something more – confidence, pride, and the knowledge that this was only the beginning.

Mapi also prides herself on her memories. While she might not hold onto every detail with the same intensity as Alexia, she has a knack for remembering the important things, the moments that matter most. And among those cherished memories, the first time she met you stands out vividly, a snapshot in time that she can recall with remarkable clarity.

You were eleven, full of youthful energy and wide-eyed excitement, attending one of Alexia's international matches. It was a big day for your sister, but it was just as important for you. You had always looked up to Alexia, admiring her talent and determination, and now you were there to witness her shine on an international stage, surrounded by the vibrant atmosphere of the stadium.

Mapi remembers seeing you for the first time as you stood by your Mami in the crowd, almost bouncing on your toes with anticipation. Your Mami was talking to someone behind you – another mother of one of the players probably. But your eyes were glued to the pitch. Even at that young age, there was something about you that caught her attention. Maybe it was the way your eyes sparkled with excitement, or the way you clung to every word and action as if trying to absorb everything at once. Or perhaps it was the unmistakable resemblance to Alexia, not just in your features but in the determination and passion that radiated from you. There was a quiet intensity in your gaze, a seriousness beyond your years, as if you understood the gravity of the moment.

As the match played on, Mapi found herself glancing over at you more than once. She was struck by how engaged you were, how you seemed to be analysing every play, every movement on the field, as if you were learning from it, storing it away for future use. It wasn’t just a game to you; it was a lesson, an opportunity to understand what it took to play at the highest level. And even though you were just a kid, Mapi could see that same spark in you that had driven Alexia to greatness.

After the match, when the excitement had calmed down and the players were mingling with friends and family, Mapi finally had the chance to meet you. She remembers how you were practically glowing with pride as you stood beside your sister, your eyes wide with admiration, her name emblazoned across your back. When Alexia introduced you, Mapi couldn’t help but smile at the way you looked up at her, a mix of shyness and awe in your expression. You were polite, a little reserved, but there was no mistaking the respect and admiration you held for her as one of your sister's teammates.

That first meeting was brief, just a few words exchanged, but it left a lasting impression on Mapi. She saw the potential in you, the same drive that had made Alexia a star. There was no doubt in her mind that you were destined for something great, that you would follow in your sister’s footsteps and make your own mark in the world of football. Even then, at just eleven years old, it was clear that you had the heart of a champion.

She also remembered the shy, yet quietly determined 16-year-old who showed up to training for the first time. You had arrived at the training grounds with an air of nervous excitement. You kept glancing across to Alexia, like a child looking back to their mother, for reassurance and support.

The first thing Mapi noticed was your outfit – specifically, the training top you were wearing. It was unmistakably Alexia’s, and it was about three sizes too big for you. The sleeves fell well past your elbows, and the hem completely covered your shorts, but there was something endearing about the way you wore it. It was as if you were carrying a piece of your sister’s legacy with you, a tangible connection to the one who had inspired you to reach this point. It spoke of the bond between you and Alexia, a silent acknowledgment of the footsteps you were following.

Despite the oversized top and the nerves that were probably churning in your stomach, there was a quiet determination in your eyes. Mapi could see it the moment you stepped onto the pitch – a hair tie securing the loose fabric behind you – your focus laser-sharp, your mind set on one thing: proving yourself. There was no hesitation in your movements, no sign of the intimidation that so often accompanies a young player stepping into a world filled with seasoned professionals. You might have been shy off the field, but on it, you were something else entirely.

As the drills began, it quickly became apparent that you were no ordinary 16-year-old. The way you passed the ball, with skill and precision that belied your age, caught everyone’s attention. Each touch was deliberate, controlled, executed with an almost instinctual understanding of the game. Your technique was flawless, the kind that only comes from years of practice and a deep, innate love for the sport. Mapi watched as you moved through the drills with ease, your focus unbroken, your determination shining through with every pass, every turn, every sprint.

Mapi couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as she watched you. She had always known you had talent, but seeing you in action, seeing the way you handled yourself on the pitch, was something else entirely. You weren’t just Alexia’s little sister anymore; you were a force in your own right, a player who was ready to carve out her own path, to make her own name in the world of football.

That first day of training was a glimpse into your future, a future that was clearly bright and full of promise. Mapi knew, as did everyone who watched you that day, that you were destined for greatness. You had the skill, the determination, and the heart of a champion. And even in that oversized training top, you stood tall, a young player on the brink of something extraordinary.

You stood behind your sister in the tunnel. the familiar hum of the stadium echoing around you, the distant roar of the crowd growing louder with each passing second. It was a ritual at this point—Alexia, Cata, you. The three of you always lined up in that order, a reassuring familiarity that helped ease the anxiety before every match. The tunnel was a place of anticipation, where the nerves were almost palpable, but this small routine gave you a sense of calm, a reminder that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

As you stood there, your heart thumping with adrenaline, you glanced down at the back of your shirt. Alexia’s name, which had once been proudly emblazoned there during your younger years, was now replaced with your own. It was a symbol of how far you’d come, a marker of your journey from being the little sister who idolised her sibling to becoming a player in your own right. Seeing your name, bold and unmistakable, brought a swell of pride. It was a reminder of the hard work, the sacrifices, and the countless hours of training that had brought you to this moment.

The tunnel, though dimly lit, was alive with energy. Your teammates around you were focused, their faces set with determination. You could hear the steady breathing of Cata in front of you, the way she subtly bounced on the balls of her feet, ready to charge onto the field. And just ahead of her was Alexia, your constant source of inspiration. Even without seeing her face, you could sense her confidence, her leadership. She was the captain, not just in title but in every action, every word. Knowing she was right there, just a step ahead, gave you the reassurance you needed.

It was a typical day in Barcelona—the sun was shining, casting a warm golden glow over everything, and the familiar smell of the sea lingered on the breeze. The city was alive with its usual rhythm, but for you, time seemed to slow as you stepped onto the pitch, crossing yourself in a ritual that had become second nature. Your movements were perfectly synchronised with Alexia’s, a mirror image of the routine you both had followed for years. It was more than just a habit; it was a connection, a shared moment of focus, reminding yourselves of who you were doing this for as the game began.

There had always been a running joke among your friends, family, and even the fans that you, Alexia, and Alba were practically identical – three sisters, a true copy and paste of your parents. From your mother’s eyes to your father’s smile, the resemblance was uncanny. Growing up, it was something you’d heard often, especially whenever the three of you were together. But now, as you stood on the pitch, it was even more apparent.

You had begun to shed the baby fat in your cheeks, your features sharpening into a striking reflection of your sister’s. Your jawline had become more defined, your cheekbones more pronounced, and the athletic build you had worked so hard to develop was now unmistakable. With every passing day, the similarities between you and Alexia grew more evident, not just in appearance but in the way you carried yourself – your poise, your determination, and your unyielding focus on the game.

It was at halftime when you started to feel a little funny, a subtle sensation that crept up on you without warning. You hadn’t really noticed anything was off until Jana, always quick with a joke, pointed it out. “Hey, you look like you just ran a marathon,” she teased, nudging you playfully. “Might need a change of shirt during the break, unless you’re trying to start a new trend.”

You laughed it off, brushing her comment aside with a grin. But as you walked off the pitch and toward the locker room, you couldn’t ignore the nagging discomfort that was beginning to settle in. Your shirt clung to your skin, drenched with sweat in a way that felt excessive, even for the intensity of the match. The usual rush of adrenaline that kept you focused seemed to be fading, replaced by a heavy, sluggish feeling that you couldn’t quite shake.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was buzzing with the usual energy. Teammates were talking strategy, rehydrating, and catching their breath, but you found yourself moving slower than usual, your head feeling slightly foggy. You tried to shake it off, chalking it up to nerves or maybe just the heat of the day, but there was a small voice in the back of your mind that told you something wasn’t quite right.

As you sat down on the bench, you reached for your water bottle, hoping that a good drink would clear the haze. The plastic felt cool against your palm, but your grip was looser than it should have been, as if your fingers weren’t quite responding the way you wanted them to. You took a long sip, letting the water flow down your throat, but it didn’t do much to shake the growing sense of unease that was settling in your chest.

Alexia, always in tune with your every move, noticed the slight frown on your face as you lowered the bottle. She had been watching you closely, her instincts kicking in the moment she saw the unusual look in your eyes. She knew you better than anyone—better than you sometimes knew yourself—and it didn’t take much for her to sense that something wasn’t right.

“Everything okay, Frijolita?” she asked, her voice soft, casual, but with that unmistakable undertone of concern. She wasn’t asking as your captain, with the authority and responsibility that title carried. No, this was your big sister speaking, the one who had looked out for you from the moment you were born, who had always been there to protect you, guide you, and make sure you were okay. The nickname, a tender reminder of your childhood, held a warmth that made you feel safe, even in moments like this when you didn’t feel quite yourself.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Malvavisco,” you replied quickly, forcing a smile that you hoped would reassure her. The nickname you used for her – a playful nod to her sweet and soft side, despite her tough exterior – was meant to lighten the mood, to show her that you were okay, that you could handle this. “Just a bit more tired than usual, I guess.”

But even as the words left your mouth, you knew they didn’t quite fit. “Tired” wasn’t the right description for what you were feeling. It was something deeper, more unsettling. There was a heaviness in your limbs that didn’t belong there, a dull ache that seemed to radiate from your muscles, as if they were protesting against some unseen force. And then there was that strange warmth, an unnatural heat that didn’t seem to come from the usual exertion of the game. It was like your body was trying to tell you something, sending signals that you didn’t fully understand yet.

Alexia didn’t miss a beat. “Mm hm, keep drinking, little and often, okay?” she said, her tone gentle but firm. It was clear she wasn’t entirely convinced by your reassurances, and she wasn’t about to let you brush this off. She knew you too well for that. Her words carried a quiet insistence, a way of saying that she was watching you, that she was here for you no matter what.

You nodded, taking another sip of water, the cool liquid doing little to soothe the unease that was gnawing at you. You wanted to push through it, to tell yourself that it was just a momentary blip, that you’d be fine once the second half started. But the truth was, you weren’t sure. The heaviness in your limbs, the trembling in your hands, the warmth that didn’t seem to belong—they were all telling you that this wasn’t something you could just ignore. You would get it checked after the match.

Alexia and Mapi both curse their memories now, those sharp, unforgiving recollections that refuse to fade with time. What once had been a source of pride – a keen sense of recall that allowed them to remember every crucial play, every victory, every shared moment of joy on and off the pitch – had turned into something they wished they could escape. Now, their memories played on a relentless loop, like an unwanted movie they couldn’t pause, rewind, or fast-forward through. It was always there, lurking in the quiet moments, ready to spring to life when they least expected it.

For Alexia, her memory was a double-edged sword. She had always relied on it to guide her through matches, to anticipate her opponent’s next move, to recall every piece of advice from her coaches. But now, it betrayed her, forcing her to relive that day over and over again. She could see it all so clearly – the way the sunlight had filtered through the stadium, the way your face had looked so determined, so focused. And then, the way it had changed, how you had suddenly seemed smaller, paler, as if the very life was draining out of you in front of her eyes. She cursed her memory for making her relive that moment when she first realised something was wrong, the gnawing sense of dread that had settled in her gut, the helplessness that had gripped her as she watched you struggle.

Mapi, too, was haunted by the vividness of her recollections. She had always prided herself on her ability to remember the important things – the strategies, the nuances of her teammates’ styles, the camaraderie they shared. But now, her memory was a tormentor, dragging her back to that moment when everything had shifted. She could still hear the way the crowd’s cheers had faded into a dull roar in her ears, the way the world had seemed to narrow down to the sight of you, struggling to stand, your hands trembling, your breath laboured. It was as if time had slowed, trapping her in that scene, unable to do anything but watch in horror.

They both cursed the vividness of those memories, the way they intruded on their thoughts without warning. It wasn’t just the images that haunted them – the sight of you unsteady on your feet, the trainer rushing to your side, the way the game had suddenly become unimportant in the face of what was happening – it was the emotions that came flooding back with them. The fear, the panic, the desperate hope that you would be okay, and the crushing reality that followed. Those feelings were as raw now as they were then, refusing to dull with time.

You dropped like a bag of bricks. Like a marionette with its strings cut. Like a stack of Jenga blocks being knocked to the ground. One moment you were standing, the next, you were a heap on the floor. You were lucky in some sense. You had no memory of that moment. You felt unwell, your heart was racing too fast, an uncomfortable pressure sitting on your chest. And then nothing. Blackness. Emptiness.

In that blackness, time seemed to lose its meaning. Seconds could have stretched into hours, or minutes might have slipped by in the blink of an eye. The blackness was absolute, a quiet, oppressive void that seemed to hold its breath along with you. It was an eerie calm; it was peaceful but unsettling. It shouldn’t be this calm. It was game day – game days were never this calm.

Outside of the blackness, it was anything but calm. Mapi had been the closest to you. She heard your sharp intake of breath. She had seen the way you crumpled like a house of cards. She tasted the iron in her mouth as she dropped beside you.

Mapi had never been more grateful for her memory in that moment. She hadn’t wanted to attend the optional first aid course that Barça was putting on for the players. Captain’s had to attend, she did not. It was Ingrid who had insisted, her rationale simple and persuasive: “It won’t do any harm to know first aid. You never know when it might come in handy.” At the time, Mapi had seen it as a minor inconvenience, a waste of a perfectly good free afternoon.

Are they responsive?: She gently shook your shoulder and called out softly, “Frijolita, can you hear me?” There was no response. Her heart raced, but she forced herself to remain calm.

Ear to their mouth and look at their chest – are they breathing?: Mapi leaned in closer, her ear near your mouth, her eyes fixed on your chest. She waited and waited. Nothing. No movement. Nothing on her cheek either.

Hands together in the middle of their chest – aim for between the nipples: She positioned her hands, interlocking her fingers and placing them on the centre of your chest, just above the lower half of your sternum.

Down at least 5cm and all the way up: With a deep breath, she began chest compressions, pressing down with firm, deliberate force. She counted each compression, focusing on the depth and rhythm, making sure to allow full recoil between compressions.

Up and down 30 times: Mapi kept a steady rhythm, performing the compressions at a rate of 100 to 120 per minute. She counted aloud, her voice steady despite her nerves, her focus entirely on the task.

Tilt the head back, pinch the nose, create an airtight seal with your mouth: After completing the cycle of compressions, Mapi tilted your head back slightly, pinched your nose shut, and positioned her mouth over yours, forming a tight seal.

Breathe twice: She administered two rescue breaths, each one deliberate and controlled, watching for any signs of chest rise. She repeated the process, her breaths firm but gentle.

Back to the chest: Returning to chest compressions, she resumed her rhythm, the pattern of her actions becoming a practiced dance of urgency and hope.

Staying Alive by the Bee Gees

Wannabe by the Spice Girls

Dancing Queen by ABBA

Respect by Aretha Franklin

Say So by Doja Cat

The SpongeBob Square Pants theme

Each song felt like a lifeline, a rhythmic mantra that guided her actions as she worked. The beats and lyrics looped in her head, a surreal juxtaposition to the gravity of the situation. Tears were streaming down her face and plopping onto your t-shirt.

With each compression, her resolve hardened. She pushed through the exhaustion and anxiety, her hands moving with determined precision. The repetition of her actions became a mantra, each push and breath a testament to her will to keep you safe. The songs in her head were a rhythm to her actions, a strange but effective way to keep her focus sharp and her movements steady.

The sounds of the stadium outside – the murmurs of the crowd, the collective gasp of concern – seemed muted, almost like they were a world away. Her world had narrowed to the urgent task of keeping you alive.

She couldn’t look up. Her body wouldn’t let her. She could hear Alexia. She could hear the sobs, raw and heart-wrenching, punctuated by the occasional choked sob or whispered plea. The sounds were a painful contrast to the clinical efficiency of the medics around her, their voices calm and professional as they continued their work.

Mapi’s vision was a blur, her gaze fixed on the ground, the grass beneath her scuffed and muddied. Her hands were still trembling, and the adrenaline that had fuelled her actions now seemed to drain away, leaving her feeling hollow and emotionally exhausted.

The medics had gently pulled her off you, their movements firm but compassionate. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, which had been a distant background noise, now seemed to echo in her ears with an almost rhythmic insistence. Beeps were good. Beeps meant there was a rhythm to trace. They were a lifeline

Ingrid’s hand appeared in front of her – a guiding light in the dimness of Mapi’s world. The familiar touch was a lifeline of its own, grounding her in a moment when everything felt as though it was spiralling out of control.

“María, min kjærlighet,” Ingrid’s voice was gentle, like talking to a wounded animal. The Norwegian words, though soothing and foreign, carried a warmth and familiarity that Mapi desperately needed. Ingrid’s presence was a comforting constant in the storm of emotions swirling around her.

Mapi looked up, her vision still blurred by tears and exhaustion. Ingrid’s face was a beacon of calm amid the chaos, her eyes filled with concern and empathy. She took a deep, shuddering breath, her fingers reaching out to grasp Ingrid’s hand, seeking solace in the shared strength of their bond.

“I… I didn’t know what to do,” Mapi whispered, her voice trembling. “I thought I was losing her.”

Ingrid squeezed her hand gently, her touch a reassuring anchor. “You did everything you could, María. You were incredible. They’ve got her now, and that’s what matters.”

Alexia had never felt fear quite like that. The pure, unadulterated terror that coursed through her veins was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was a raw, gnawing fear that twisted and turned inside her, threatening to overtake her entirely. She had seen her Papi die, felt the crushing weight of grief as it had changed their lives forever. The memories of that loss were seared into her heart, an enduring ache she carried with her. Now, faced with the possibility of losing you, the fear was even more intense.

The stadium, usually a place of joy and celebration, had become an arena of anguish. The sound of the crowd had faded into a distant murmur, replaced by the frantic shuffling of medical staff and the stifling, heavy silence of the waiting room. Alexia’s heart pounded in her chest; each beat a reminder of how quickly everything could be taken away

She paced back and forth, the hard tile of the hospital floor cold beneath her feet. The familiar surroundings of the waiting area – chairs arranged neatly, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead – were now a blur of sterile emptiness. She barely registered the passing time, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of memories and fears.

She was glad though, that this was a home game. The first one after the Christmas holidays. Your Mami and Alba were in the crowd. She couldn’t imagine having to make that phone call.

“Ale, mija, come sit.” Eli’s voice was rough with suppressed tears.

She moved robotically, dropping heavily onto the open chair and letting her head rest on her mother’s shoulder – mirroring Alba on the other side.

Her mind danced with memories. Your first proper laugh, a bubbly, infectious sound that had filled the room with a joy so pure it was impossible not to smile. She could still picture the way your eyes had sparkled with delight, a tiny beacon of happiness that had made her heart swell with love. She squeezed you a little tighter as she rested on the couch, your back propped against her thighs as she tickled your tummy.

Your first steps, a wobbly but determined series of movements that had marked the beginning of your journey toward independence. Alexia remembered how she had clapped and cheered, her heart swelling with pride as you took those tentative steps towards her, each one a testament to your growing strength and confidence.

Your first birthday had been a celebration of milestones and new beginnings. The cake, with its bright, colourful frosting, had been a highlight of the day. The way you had looked at the cake, your tiny hands reaching out with curiosity and delight, was a moment she treasured before you stuck a sticky, messy fistful towards her as she sat in a seat next to you. The room had been filled with laughter, presents, and the warmth of family gathered to celebrate your first year of life.

She couldn’t do this without you. The very thought of continuing without your presence was unbearable. She would retire, leave behind the game she had devoted her life to. The idea of walking away from everything she had worked for, of going into hiding and never showing her face again, seemed like a small price to pay if it meant keeping you by her side.

As she sat there, the weight of the situation pressing down on her, she didn’t notice the tears trailing steadily down her cheeks. They fell in silent tracks. Her hands trembled slightly, the fingers gripping the edge of her chair as if they could somehow anchor her to reality.

The room was filled with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the occasional footsteps of hospital staff and the muffled conversations of other waiting families. It was a surreal, almost dreamlike atmosphere, where time seemed to stretch endlessly. Alexia's eyes remained fixed on the door leading to the treatment area, her gaze unwavering as if willing it to open with news of recovery.

“Putellas Segura?” a young man—barely twenty-five with slight stubble and unkempt hair—appeared in front of them. His face was tense, a mixture of youthful anxiety and professional seriousness.

“Sí, sí.” Eli’s voice was a desperate whisper, her eyes searching his face for any sign of good news. She rose from her seat, her heart pounding, her breath shallow.

The young man glanced around the waiting area, his gaze landing on Alexia. “I’m Dr. Ruiz, one of the attending physicians. I have an update.”

Alexia’s heart leaped into her throat, and she squeezed her mother’s hand for support. The tension in the room seemed to coalesce around Dr. Ruiz, his presence a focal point of hope and fear.

“Is she…?” Alexia started, her voice trembling with the weight of the question she needed answered.

Dr. Ruiz took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly as he continued. “She’s stable now. We’ve managed to get her heart rate under control, and she’s responsive. We’re continuing to monitor her closely, but for the moment, she’s out of immediate danger.”

Relief washed over Alexia like a tide, the knot of worry in her chest beginning to unravel. Her knees felt weak, and she leaned heavily back on her chair The room’s oppressive silence seemed to lift, replaced by a collective exhale of relief.

“Can we see her?” Eli’s voice cut through the stillness, urgent and pleading.

Dr. Ruiz nodded. “Yes, you can. I’ll take you to her. She’s in recovery now, and we’ll need to keep monitoring her, but you can see her for a few minutes. Follow me, please.”

The room was dimly lit, with the soft beeping of medical equipment providing a steady, comforting rhythm. Alexia stepped inside, her heart in her throat as she finally saw you lying in the hospital bed.

You were pale but alive, your chest rising and falling with each breath. The sight of you – though still connected to various monitors and IV drips – was a balm to Alexia’s frayed nerves. She approached the bedside, her steps tentative but determined.

“Frijolita,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She reached out to gently take your hand, her tears falling freely now. The sight of you, still and vulnerable, made her heart ache. But seeing you breathing, with the beeping of the monitor steady and rhythmic, filled her with a profound sense of relief.

Mapi and Ingrid stood nearby, their faces reflecting the same mixture of concern and hope. Ingrid’s eyes were wet with tears, and she looked at Alexia with a look of shared gratitude.

Dr. Ruiz cleared his throat softly, drawing Alexia’s attention back to him. “She’s been through a lot, and we’ll need to monitor her closely for the next few hours. But the immediate danger has passed, and she’s responding well.”

Alexia nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from you. She gently squeezed your hand, whispering softly, “You’re going to be okay. We’re all here for you. We’ll get through this together.”

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

a when they're dads au series.

pairing: dad & husband! kaedehara kazuha x fem! reader

cw: established relationship, you and kazuha are married and have children. original characters. domestic and parenting universe. quick mention of pregnant reader. slightly ooc to fit the plot. fluff and not beta read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

part i. | part ii.

Considering that Kaedehara Kazuha’ only reputation was his mild personality and free spirit, no one believed that the wandering samurai would one day be able to pause his travels and settle down to a monotonous, homely life.

So you can imagine the surprise that’d be among the fishing and sailing communities throughout Teyvat when they discovered that the white-haired man had not settled down but also married and had children.

Surely it only could be a prank because, after all, was there even a possibility of that happening?

Well, this answer was given by a drunk and laughing Captain Beidou who showed to curious and shocked eyes a photo of his wedding held by the Crux fleet itself on a small and isolated island in Inazuma.

If the residents and locals didn't know her so well they might think the pirate captain was lying. However, looking at the photo closer, the way Kazuha looked at you while you smiled back at him confirmed the undeniable: the man was madly in love with you.

After that, with the help of a few barrels of rum and beer, the story of your love was shared. From you falling from the sky directly (and literally) into the samurai's arms, to the blossoming of your relationship; the ups and downs faced to the marriage proposal, and then the small family's decision to leave the seas to rebuild the Kaedehara Clan together.

Oh, well… Beidou may have let escape one more detail since dozens of wide eyes stared at her in astonishment at this information. However, she was pretty sure Kazuha wouldn't mind if she told them a little bit more about his new life as patriarch of the clan and his greatest prides. You, his wife, and your three children.

The samurai himself didn’t believe that one day he could be so fortunate and blessed to have the opportunity to return to a happy and noisy home. His days as a teenager left him with a deep scar in his heart since his relationship with his father, at first, wasn’t one of the best and therefore staying away from the place that was once his home was the best decision to be made.

Not only had the distance from Inazuma changed his perspective but also an insecurity had blossomed in the back of his mind where he feared that one day he’d make the same mistakes as his father.

Even so, after you entered his life, the only feeling he had when he set foot in the old estate was pure warmth and belonging. Love and serenity that not even his children, while yelling and playing around the mansion, could shake it.

Kiyomi, his middle and only daughter, was, most of the time, responsible for the laughter and noises in the house. Both you and your husband didn't know where she had inherited such an extroverted and mischievous personality, causing you to grow a few strands of gray hair and eliciting genuine laughs from Kazuha. There was no denying that the girl had a temperament as unique as her beauty, which was a mixture between yours and your husband's. And as the only girl in the family it was undeniable to say that Kazuha loved the ground she walked on. Nevertheless, neither you nor your husband would change anything about her, loving and being proud of your daughter the way she is  — because if there’s something prettier about Kiyomi was her heart as big as her stubbornness.

Clearly, the affection of the two parents wasn’t limited to just the girl but also extended to the two sons.

Kazumi is your firstborn son and only three years older than Kiyomi. With such a small age difference, some parents would expect there to be a certain amount of rivalry and jealousy between the siblings, but Kazumi was his father's son in both appearance and personality. With such a sneaky smile and a relaxed attitude, he was often mistaken for Kazuha himself — even sharing the same mindset of preferring to go with the flow rather than worry about small, insignificant things. This didn't apply to situations where you or his siblings were in danger, of course. After all, he took the title of older son and brother very seriously.

Shortly before his tenth birthday, Kazumi had learned and inherited the techniques of the Isshin Art which even took Kazuha himself an entire decade to re-learn. Unlike his ancestors, the current patriarch would teach his children the clan's secret technique so that the art would remain alive. Whether his children would dedicate themselves to it or not will depend on each of them.

Kiyomi didn't seem too interested, neither did Kazumi.

You, though, hoped that one of your children would carry the bladesmithing practices forward but you were also happy to see each of your children following their own path. If not even Haruki, your youngest son who was known to be as hungry for knowledge as any sage of Sumeru himself, seemed enchanted by this idea then ​​the Kaedehara Clan must expanding its businesses in other areas.

The youngest Kaedehara was the prodigy and the pride of the entire family. Your third pregnancy was a big surprise in the house but very well welcomed. Kazumi had just turned ten and Kiyomi was awaiting her seventh birthday when the fragile little Haruki arrived into the world on a autumn morning — although, the first few months that followed weren’t very pleasant as your baby's health was poor, leaving both you and Kazuha with your nerves always on edge.

However, with the help of your friends, the traveler, the Crux fleet, and even Yae Miko’s divine blessing, little by little Haruki managed to recover and finally grow up healthily.

Unlike his brothers who always seemed to be somewhere or running around, Haruki preferred to stay at home surrounded by the comfort of his parents' presence or his books. It took little time for you and Kazuha to realize that at a young age he was already reading advanced-level books and scrolls, and was interested in subjects that even adults would find boring. So it was also no surprise either when an invitation to study at Akademiya arrived at your home just before the boy's thirteenth birthday.

Needless to say there was a huge party before his departure to Sumeru where on one side there was you crying at the sudden departure of your son, Kazuha consoling you and a very happy Beidou getting all the guests drunk.

So, yes. If someone asked Kazuha about what he thought of this new life of his, he wouldn't lie when he answered them that it was a very different reality from the one he had projected years ago. There would always be something to worry about, his days were almost the same, rarely leaving the routine, and every now and then the desire to reach new horizons would always call him.

But in the end of the day, he wouldn't trade a second of his life by your side for his old one. Because, after all, he’s already living the biggest adventure of his life with you by his side, and if there’s something that Kazuha was sure of, it'd be that there’s nothing in the world so rewarding as having your company.

.

.

a/n: i must confess that i have this plot on my drafts for almost two years now but i’ve never found will enough on myself to sit down and write it. nevertheless, i’m thankful for my mind to remind me of this plot and make me re-write new ideas.

those who knows me, or not, must’ve know that i really do love parenting, domestic and pregnancy universe so not so often i caught myself writing about it. it’s so relaxing and enjoyable to picture these guys as dad idk.

i hope you’ve liked it so far. i would like to share more about this headcanon too in a possible future so let me know if you want to know something more about the kaedehara clan. thank you so much, bye!

[calisources]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on these meme make references to royal balls, medieval ballrooms or regency, basically set during any period drama. You can change names, pronouns, titles and more as you see fit. Most of these were taken from different source materials found via google search. This meme makes references to masquerades, royal dances and partners.

Dancing, at its best, is independence and intimacy in balance.

Dance is the timeless interpretation of life.

Music does not need language of words for it has movements of dance to do its translation.

Masks reveal. They don’t conceal. Masks reveal your cravings, your passion, your deepest most secret desires.

It was you. I know it was you.

Look at me, Kia! Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not her.

And who shall you be once you don your grand disguise?

I don't like to hear you talk about yourself that way. Your scars do not define you, young lady. Your action do.

All the ladies must dress the same and the men have to find their partners. It’s a game of sorts. 

Even the smallfolk have their own version of the ball, at the steps of the castle.

Swoon, Dora. Every young woman deserves to swoon over the love of her life.

Dash it, Everton, how'd you know it was me?

A masquerade could have been a beautiful dance. 

 Oh, well. What's a royal ball? After all, I suppose it would be frightfully dull, and-and-and boring, and-and completely... Completely wonderful.

Each finds a partner, and upon the bell, we must change partner until we find the one we came to be. . .or the one we desire.

It has been a while since you gave me the honor to dance with you.

If the princess is not too occupied, I would wish for a dance, perhaps?

The Queen and King have to open the ball but the King is gone. No mind, I shall be in his place.

Sometimes in life confusion tends to arise and only dialogue of dance seems to make sense.

If we want our men to dance, we have to inspire them. 

 But with something more, something bigger, something that will give them a reason to want to dance.

But when balls are held for pleasure, They're the balls that I like best.

Will you be my princess for the Ball?

Keeping pushing, Andrei, and you and I are going to play a game.

Nothing like a ball to cheer a nation, give the old lords wine and the young boys the opportunity to find a nice woman and everyone shows up.

Where are you taking me? The ball hasn’t ended.

Royals is like a beautiful, broken angel: hard to look at, but utterly impossible to turn away from.

Attend the royal ball in all your glory and find out what fate has in store for you.

How many dances is one allowed before people begin to whisper?

You cannot behave like a brute. It is my duty to dance with every suitor. I am their princess.

I do not recognize you, my lord? Are you from these lands? 

It is bad luck to steal a princess.

Attend the royal ball in all your glory and find out what fate has in store for you.

There is nothing quite like dancing in the moonlight. It sets your soul on fire and your heart aflutter.

The beauty of a ball is not just in its grandeur, but in the connections it sparks, the emotions it stirs, and the hopes it ignites.

Just keep your eyes on me. No one else here matters.

I shall keep dancing with you until you stop being stubborn and go speak with me. Or you rather have people whisper?

The princess looks beautiful tonight, does she not?

Father, please, you must dance as well. Your dull looks are making people bored.

You promised me a dance when you were better. Are you?

I've loved you at every dance, on every walk, every time we've been together and every time we've been apart.

I can feel people's eyes on me.

Every time I walk into a ballroom, I know they are comparing me to Daphne.

You both get to choose your passions and adventures, while my beloved is chosen by me. And now I must join them for a dance.

Are you planning on running away when the clock strikes midnight? 

If you do wish to go away, I know a spot, secluded enough.

You wish for me to go with you, alone, unchaperoned. I am a maiden, my lord. 

Aye, but I am no lord, sweet maiden. And these masks allow us some privacy.

This is my last chance to find a match on my own accord. If I don’t. The King will do it for me and I would rather not.

 I'm only a girl, not a princess.

Believe me - they're all looking at you.

 They're all looking at you.

You are requested and required to present yourself to your king.

 I do not even know if that beautiful slipper will fit But, if it does--will you take me as I am?

 It would be an insult to take you to the palace dressed in these old rags.

How charming, how perfectly charming.

When I go back, they will try to pair me off with a lady of their choosing. I'm expected to marry for advantage.

Oh. Well, whose advantage would this marriage be of?

I hope you don't find our kingdom too confining.

I am. An apprentice monarch. Still learning my trade.

Our prince seems quite taken with her.

She went straight for him. You have to appreciate her efficiency.

Walk into the room knowing you are the best. Shoulders back, chin up. Their attitudes will totally change.

You dance love, and you dance joy, and you dance dreams.

The ball is about to come to an end, and you have yet not told me your name. 

I thought we agreed we would remain strangers.

I’m afraid my true identity would put you in danger. 

Have you ever been kissed by a stranger at the end of a ball? If not, let me be the first.

Put him on all the invitation lists, he's a divine dancer.

I’m afraid I’m more used to swordfight than ballroom.

You will ruin your pretty gown, princess. I would not wish to step on your toes.

 Silly, I am a great dancer, no one ever steps on my toes.

No. Let them dance. Interrupting would cause a scandal.

One of these men will be my husband one day. What a thought.

The art of husband seeking at it’s peak, during royal ball season. 

Maiden beware, a gentleman can become a beast when the bell strikes.

[queenimmadolla]

I need a part in the penny verse where the whole Eddie telling baby bump penny that her mom is going to be a MILF comes into play.

Like one we day the reader is picking up penny from school and maybe another kids dad flirts with her or like a new neighbor of theirs does and maybe Eddie’s reaction to that

Not even gonna front with you, I've been sitting on this for a min because I wrote it and then freaking forgot about it. I did take some creative liberties, but I think you'll like what I got for ya. Ps, ‘baby bump penny’ had my heart throwing up, I always forget that we get her in different phases of her existence and she was once in reader’s belly 🥹💘

to everyone else, sorry, I can't link shit but this is a follow up to a ton of other pennyverse entries so you can search that on my tumblr until the links work again. and i'm trying the keep reading cut again, let me know if it fucks up the post.

(dad!eddie munson x mom!reader)

Summary: Something's been bothering you these last couple of weeks and you won't tell Eddie what it is. Like that'll stop him, he's determined to figure it out.

warnings: a creepy (and freaking terrible) dad hits on reader, implied unwelcome advances, crude comments about reader and the female body (eddie sets this fucker straight), protective!eddie :)

Eddie knew you. He knew every fiber of your being, every marker in your past, all the ways you liked to style your hair, how you decided on what makeup to put on that day—if you even wore any—,the different types of silence you’d sink into and what they meant, your body (god, he was intimately in tune with it), and every different smile you wore. Eddie knew you.

  He just didn’t know exactly what went on in that beautiful head of yours. Eddie was positive he had a sixth sense catered only to you, it’d let him know whenever there was something wrong, something bothering you. It prompted him to approach you, watch you even more than he already did. Putting himself metaphorically in your shoes usually helped him figure it out the rest of the way, but for this particular occurrence, he had nothing to go on.

  For the past couple of weeks, since Penny had started preschool, you’d moved your work schedule around to go in earlier so you’d be out in time to pick Penny up from school and snag the baby from Maude and Wayne, who watched him while you and Eddie were at work.

  Eddie noticed a change in you. It was minor at first, a little frazzled when he’d get home, but you hid it well. Now, you looked bothered. Always zoned out, with a frown on your face. You never left the house like that, always gave him and the kids kisses before you went on your merry way (well, as happy as you could be going to a desk job), so it had to be something that happened after you left home that bothered you.

  It wasn’t work, you’d rant to Eddie about it if you had a bad day but you liked to leave work problems at your desk when you left it, something about not being paid to worry or think about work after hours.

  It bugged the fuck out of him. He’d tried to approach the subject before, leaving you openings to tell him what was going on but you always shrugged it off and went on about your day as if you hadn’t been upset over something. You couldn’t hide it completely, though. Not from Eddie, he could still see those split seconds where your mind wandered off and the corners of your lips twitched down.

  Given how stubborn you were, Eddie decided he’d need to take a more hands on approach. Since he suspected something was happening after you left home in the mornings and before he got home from work, he’d have to be present for that timeframe. 

  He’d left work around lunchtime, Norm was understanding about it and didn't really care all that much since it was a relatively slow day for business.

  His son had been delighted when he picked him up from his Grandpa and (grandma) Maude’s, squirming and wiggling in her hold until Eddie got a hold of him. Baby Wayne had immediately placed his hands on Eddie’s jaw, urging his dad to bend his head so he could rest his forehead against his own, those big eyes of his fluttering shut the moment they connected and soft coos of dada mumbled in between them, unlike Penny had, Wayne caught onto the baby babble of mama and dada. Penny hadn’t because one of you was always helicoptering around her so Princess Penny hadn’t felt the need.

Eddie would never get over how much his baby seemed to love cuddling with his parents, everytime baby Wayne was affectionate, he turned into goo, melting in his chubby hands. They lingered in the trailer for a couple of minutes while Eddie and big Wayne discussed how things were going in the apartment, though it had been more than a year since they’d moved in. Naturally, Wayne had asked why he was stopping by so early to pick up the baby so your change in demeanor came up in conversation.

  “Mmm, I been noticin’ ‘er actin’ odd whenever she comes to pick up little man. Seems fine when she gets ‘ere. ‘S when she leaves, she seems a little…”

  “Hesitant?” Eddie supplied and Wayne nodded, mouth pressed in a firm line.

  It was then that Maude Maple spoke up, something the widow rarely did in the presence of anyone other than Wayne, and it was with great hesitance.

  “She—she mentioned something once, about the pick up at Penny’s preschool. She didn’t go into too much detail, I think she’s bothered by it.”

  “Looks like I’m on pick-up duty today.” 

  After leaving Wayne and Maude’s and asking the latter to give you a call at work to let you know he picked the baby up, Eddie spent the rest of the afternoon with baby Wayne. It involved a food fight—yes, Eddie flung some back at him, he had it coming, when Wayne had decided he was done being fed and done with food that wasn’t coming from your boob so he’d thrown the macaroni at his dad’s face—a shared shower to rid evidence of said food fight, jamming out (terribly) on toy musical instruments before Eddie gave him a bottle and some cuddles while he put Wayne down for his nap. . . And fell asleep with him. 

  You came home to a suspiciously quiet apartment, a little too clean, save for a couple of toys in the living room. You found your boys in Wayne’s nursery, both of them in the crib. 

  It was a heartwarming and comical sight, Eddie’s legs were dangling outside of the crib and the baby was curled up on his chest, though he stirred at the sound of the door opening, pushing himself up off his dad as he blinked lazily at you, mouth parting to reveal a couple of little white nubs in his gummy smile, teeth coming in.

  He cooed softly, once. When you didn’t immediately go pick him up, he let out a stream of coos, loud and demanding but still loving as he tried to entice you over. When you still stood there giggling, he got mad, seemingly joining you in your laughter with his fake and very forced sounding baby laugh which quickly morphed into fake cries as he pushed himself to his feet and stood on Eddie’s chest, clinging to the bars of his crib as though he were a locked up criminal.

  Eddie groaned, hands moving to grab your son and you finally made your way over, picking Wayne up—much to his utter delight—to relieve Eddie of his weight.

  “Ouch, dude. You can’t just stand on people like that, it’s rude.” He croaked out, as his son’s weight was lifted off of his chest.

  Eddie couldn’t even be annoyed, not when he could see Wayne scrambling eagerly in your arms, face rubbing into your neck, chest, cheek, anywhere the little guy could reach in his desperation and excitement to be as close as he could to his mama.

  After giving Wayne’s tummy some tickles, amplifying his excited wiggles with a few ‘so excited, so excited’s, you leaned over so the both of you could stare down at Eddie, amusement cloaking your pretty features.

  “I think it might be time to get you a big boy bed.”

  Eddie huffed out a laugh and then groaned once more as he tried to sit up as much as he could, which wasn’t a whole lot given the fact half of him was hanging out of the crib.

  “This is gonna be fun,” he mumbled, but eventually he was able to maneuver himself out of it without breaking it. He placed his hands on his lower back, arching until it gave away to a satisfying pop.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s good.”

  “Daddy’s so silly, huh?” You asked your son, bouncing him in your arms as you placed a kiss on his curly head before directing your next question to Eddie, “Is everything okay, baby?”

  “Just peachy, honey.” He was definitely gonna have to ask you to rub his back tonight. “Wanted to have some one-on-one time with him, even if he regularly abandons me the moment you’re in sight.” 

  Eddie reached a finger out to tickle Wayne’s stomach, smirking when he laughed and tried to hide further in your hold.

  You smiled at their interaction, though the joy quickly flitted from your expression, “Do you want to watch him? While I go pick up Penny?”

  Another obvious tell something was wrong: you’d chosen to come home, put an intentional stop between getting off of work and picking up Penny. It was almost as though you needed time to prepare yourself, which was a giant freaking red flag to Eddie considering you used to drive straight over to her school and wait for her. 

  “Why don’t you stay with him? I can go pick her up.”

  The light returned to your eyes.

  “Really? I mean—I don’t mind, I don’t want to get in the way of your bonding time.” 

  “He’s clearly over me,” The sentence was whispered at his son with fake aggression, which left Wayne a giggling mess once more, Eddie chuckled and gave his son’s chin an affectionate squeeze and wiggle, “I’ll pick up Princess Penelope, she loves the disapproving looks people give me.”

“Shut up!” You laughed, leaning up to give him a kiss before he snatched his keys off the counter.

“I’ll see you soon, beautiful.”

“Say bye-bye to daddy!” You encouraged your baby, bouncing him a little against your hip. “Buh-buh.” He waved his chunky little hand, smiling wide for his dad. 

When Eddie collapsed into the door, hand clenched over his heart, you added, “Blow daddy a kiss!” Baby Wayne lifted his palm to his mouth briefly before extending his arm out in Eddie’s direction, “Mah!” Eddie pretended to catch it, smacked the invisible kiss over his mouth and blew one right back at his baby before he forced himself out the door.

   His kid was so cute, it was a federal offense. The drive to Penny’s preschool was short, thanks to living close by. Eddie hopped out of the van–he and a couple of the guys from the shop installed a backseat prior to Penny’s birth–and made his way to the waiting area. Eddie had never gone to a preschool as a kid so he couldn’t exactly judge the pick up and drop off routine, but Penny’s preschool rarely allowed anyone in. They simply walked  up to one of the entrance doors, rang a special doorbell attached to the building, and one of the teachers or aides or whatever would verify the adult picking them up if they didn’t recognize them and then bring the kid out.

  Which meant Eddie had to stand around with other adults. There’d been a couple of them already waiting when he’d arrived, so he’d made himself comfortable on a nearby column as he waited, mind once more preoccupied with reasons as to why you didn’t seem to enjoy picking Penny up anymore. You liked Penny’s teacher, could it be one of the aides giving you a hard time? No. That’s something you would have told him.

Eddie was so distracted, he hadn’t noticed another body settle against the wall across from him.

“You a new dad? Haven’t seen you around before.”

  “What?” Eddie blinked, roused from his thoughts. The guy across from him looked like he was in his mid thirties, dressed in a skeezy suit that looked like it belonged on a car lot rather than an office, and had really big, overly white teeth he couldn’t seem to put away.

“Not a new dad, a new dad to this school. Although, you do look a little young.” The stranger clarified with a shrug.

There was something about him that Eddie immediately disliked. He could tell this was not only their first interaction, it would also be their last.

“No, I usually do the drop off.” Eddie stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, eyes flashing back to the entrance door just in time to make eye contact with one of the aides, he saw the recognition in her eyes before she closed the door again and felt less annoyed with the situation knowing she’d be retrieving Penny. 

  He hadn’t really left room for conversation, but the guy still continued.

  “Gotcha, gotcha.” His head bobbed around, Eddie thought if he listened carefully enough, he could hear his brain rattling in there, “I used to be on drop off duty myself, but I hated getting the kids ready. I’ve got four of those little monsters, every little task takes goddamn near twenty minutes.” Oh, no. This guy didn’t say it with annoyance, no, he seemed contemptuous when he talked about his kids. Eddie didn’t like that.

“Wouldn’t be so bad if my wife could just get a grip on them,” Maybe she could if she had help, you’re clearly useless, “Name’s Neil, by the way.” Eddie just raised his chin in acknowledgement. One would think ol’ Neil would catch on to Eddie not wanting to talk to him, but one would be wrong. “Yup. ‘S why I’m not on drop off duty. Sure, the pick up has its faults, kids always smell like a stale fart from all that running around and they’re babbling non-stop the whole ride, but I think you’ll find you’ll like being on pick-up duty,” Then he leaned in, like he was telling a secret and whispered out, “Most of the hot moms do the pick-ups.”

  That sixth sense Eddie had for you? Yeah, it was on freaking fire, hot red and jumping around. He was positive he now knew the reason behind your discomfort with picking Penny up. 

  Some fucking creep wouldn’t leave you alone. Eddie’s jaw ticked, hands clenched into fists from the insides of his pockets. He didn’t say anything, but that wasn’t necessary with this guy.

“Man, you should see some of them. You gotta wonder why they only have one kid, I’d be all over that.” He gave a low whistle before he let out the most unflattering of cackles.

  “You missed most of the show, but there’s this one mom–god, the body on this one. . .and she’s always done up, think she works in an office or something, but she’s a sight for sore eyes. A real MILF. She’s only got one kid, too. Little girl she picks up, so you know she’s tight.”

Eddie would be committing a crime, because he knew he was talking about you. He was going to murder this asshole. He was gonna strangle Neil with his own intestines and get rid of the body in the town dump where he belonged.

  He must have not noticed the crazed glint in Eddie’s eyes because the idiot kept going, “I know what you’re thinking, I’m not actively planning on doing anything. Haven’t seen her in a couple of days, pretty sure she’s working late or something because she’s gotta be snatching this kid up late. Heard she’s married to some greasy mechanic and a pretty little thing like that coming to pick up her kid with these dads around? Shit, I wouldn’t be letting her out of the house. He’s signing her up for this. You gotta wonder if she likes the attention. She’s got this shy thing going on, though. Always so meek when I’m chatting her up. Not like my wife.” Neil’s face contorted in disdain, “Four fucking kids, man.” Okay, Eddie would be murdering him on behalf of you, and his wife. And the rest of the human population. He’d had enough, it was time to make sure this shit wouldn’t be continuing. “You got any pictures?” Eddie asked, feigning interest for the first time since he’d come up to him. Neil scoffed and dug around in his pocket, “Wife won’t let me go anywhere without them, you know how it is. Constant reminders and all that, like she doesn’t trust me to not forget.”

Eddie tried not to snatch the photo out of his slimy hands, frown deepening when he realized Neil’s story about having a wife and kids was not in fact made up. Four beaming little faces stared back up at Eddie, with a pretty fifth smile in the picture. She was severely out of her husband’s league, seemingly juggling all the responsibilities on her own, all of them underappreciated and unfortunately stuck with him.

“Beautiful family,” He commented, eyes flashing to the door just as it opened to reveal Penny and the aide. He returned the photo and pulled out his wallet from his pocket by its chain. Eddie flashed the photo inside to Neil, who immediately looked like he was going to shit himself. The photo was of you sitting on the couch, Wayne sitting between your legs and Penny standing on the cushion next to you, clutching your shoulder as you all smiled for him.

  Eddie slipped the wallet back into his pocket, and just as Penny began to run over, he leaned in to whisper like Neil had earlier, “Here’s what’s gonna happen: you're not ever gonna talk to my wife again or I’ll fuck you up. If you so much as look in her direction, I’ll kill you. If you think about her, I’ll beat you 'til the bones of my knuckles break through the skin. I’ll make sure you experience pain like you’ve never felt before. Bones can heal, but I promise you they don’t grow back, you pathetic fucking worm. You don’t deserve your wife, who gave you four fucking beautiful children, and you don’t deserve your kids, either. If I ever see her in public, I’m gonna tell her that so you’d better start appreciating her now. I’ve got a friend who wants a ton of kids and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me sending him their way. Got it?” Neil, good ol’ clammy, pale faced Neil swallowed hard and silently nodded as Penny finally reached him, arms already outstretched. Eddie swooped her up before she ran into him, relishing in the way her arms wrapped tightly around him in a hug. And this fucker was annoyed to have four little people who gave him these.

“Hi, sweet pea! Daddy’s just gonna finish up this conversation with Neil here and we’ll head home to mama, okay?”

Penny nodded eagerly, turning her head to stare inquisitively at the man she knew was her friend Izzy’s dad.

  Eddie took Penny’s backpack off of her with her help and slid it over his free arm, “I’m glad we understand each other, Neil. And if we don’t, my buddy Steve’s on speed dial.”

  He smirked as he walked away, leaving Neil both dumbstruck and terror stricken. Eddie didn’t even stop when he recalled a small inaccuracy Neil had mentioned, calling over his shoulder, “And we have two kids!”

What a jerk.

“Tell me about your day?” Eddie asked as he slid open the backseat door and leaned forward so Penny could climb into her booster seat. “Oh, boy, daddy! It was long! First, teacher said we were gonna draw with crayons but she change-ed her mind and we got to paint with our fingers instead!” She displayed her clean, paint free fingers for him as Eddie buckled her in, “Oh, yeah? Did you paint me a picture?” “Yeah, ‘s in my pack pack. But we only gotted to paint for a little while ‘cause Stanley tried to eat it.” “Not again, Stanley.” “I know!” Penny filled him in the rest of the drive home, while he got her out of her seat, the entire walk into the apartment building, only stopping when he opened the door for her and she caught sight of you. “MOMMY!” She let go of Eddie’s hand to run into your waiting arms. “Hi, baby! Did you have a good day at school?” You asked after you’d gotten in a good cuddle squeeze. “Uh huh! I painted with my fingers!” Penny ran back to Eddie and dug around in the backpack now dangling at his side until she retrieved a very poorly folded piece of thick paper. “I gotta show Waynie, first!” She bypassed you and ran straight for her baby brother, who was clutching the seat cushion of the couch and bobbing up and down. He’d be walking any day now. Eddie set Penny’s yellow backpack down on the counter as he closed the distance between you, arms wrapping around your middle to pull you flush up against him. “I don’t know how you do it, they make you wait forever.” He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours as you laughed. “It’s not that bad!”

“Yeah, well, regardless, you should be having a much easier time picking her up.”

It was easy for you to read between the lines and pick up his real meaning. Your eyes widened in surprise for a moment before they softened, and you leaned further into him, hands resting on Eddie’s shoulders. “Thank you.” You’d been afraid to mention the invasive and unwelcome attention you’d gained from one of the dads. Ashamed. He’d been vulgar, blatant and creepy. Even on the days he wouldn't approach you, you could still feel his eyes on you, on your body. It made you feel gross and cheap, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. You’d politely tried to get away from him when you’d find yourself in that situation, but where you went, he followed. Soon, you’d begun waiting in your parked car until Neil left, and when that wasn’t good enough, you’d either go home and wait until just before they closed–which you hated because you didn’t like to keep Penny waiting there when she could be at home–or wait in the parking lot at work until you’d make it when all the other kids were mostly gone. It was draining, and made you dread the end of the work day. 

“You never have to thank me,” Eddie leaned down just as you leaned up to kiss him, mouths mingling a little more on the wet side since you knew neither of your kids’ attention was on you. When you finally broke away, Eddie licked his lips and sighed. “Seriously, though. I don’t know how you do it. Men are gross and creepy, I wanted to deck him before he even really said anything. And what he did say–ugh. Let me know if you see his head turn in your direction, honey, ‘cause I made a promise I’m eager to not break.” You hummed appreciatively as you leaned up for more kisses, “My hero.”

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? He is still doing his world even when he had the days off, so she came with a plan in mind. She presses kisses anywhere available; arms, nose, knees, ears, knuckles, temple, just anywhere to distract him enough to stop. Eventually their son, Jack does the same to him. Just something fluff and romantic. Thanks!! :)))

So yeah I know it's a bit late but enjoy it and PLEASE PLEASE SEND ME SOME OF YOUR BRILLIANT IDEAS ALSO!!! I AM VERY THANKFUL FOR IT.

This year’s race schedule marked the 8th race in Monaco with just a decent result for the Mercedes Team with just P5 for George and P7 for Lewis. Despite Lewis adding up with one more bonus point for the fastest lap, the team still ended in fourth place, with no hope really for the world’s constructor running. The lack of progress and consistently poor results were taking a toll on their morale. Toto Wolff, the team principal, knew that something needed to change. As he sat in his office, pondering the team's predicament, there was a gentle knock at the door. Y/n, Toto's wife, entered the room with a concerned expression. She had noticed the stress and strain on Toto's face and wanted to offer her support. "How are you holding up?" she asked softly.

Toto sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's been tough," he admitted with a weary voice. "We just can't seem to get a breakthrough this season. The car's not performing. It feels like we're failing further after every race. And as the team principal, I just don’t want to let everyone down. Especially Lewis I owe him his 8th title. I just wish there was something I could do to turn this thing around.” Y/n stepped closer, her heart aching for the man she loved. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, offering a small gesture of support.

"It won't be like this forever," she said softly. "You'll figure it out. You always do, remember when I told you not to set the hot lap in Nurburgring in a Porsche and you still did anyway. You are just as stubborn as that because the Toto Wolff I know will not back down from any challenge even the stupidest one. So go team Wolff!”

Toto glanced up at his wife, her words a lifeline in the storm of challenges that faced him. He could see the earnestness in her eyes, the unwavering belief in him. It stirred something deep within him, a flicker of determination. He reached out, taking her hand in his, and squeezed it gently. "Thank you for believing in me, Schatz. And well I did pay a hefty price for the accident that day on the Nordschleife track.”

Y/n smiled softly, her eyes filled with love and admiration for her husband's resilience. She knew the heavy price Toto had paid for his passion for racing, the sacrifices he had made, both physically and emotionally.

"I'll always believe in you, no matter what," she assured him once more. "And I know you'll rise back up from this. You've got the strength and the determination to do it." She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her husband's forehead, all the way down to his arms, nose, knees, ears, knuckles, and temple - anywhere she could reach. Much to her delight, Toto couldn't resist her affection and stopped working to enjoy the moment. Just at that moment, their son Jack ran into the room, stomped his little feet and demanded that he could join his mom and dad. He planted a sloppy kiss on Toto's cheek, making him laugh and forget about work completely. Toto's heart swelled with love and contentment. He leaned back in his chair, gathering his family in his arms, and took a moment to savour the precious moment. "Thank you," he whispered, feeling grateful for their love and the reminder that there was more to life than just work. Jack snuggled against him and smiled. "We missed you, papa," he said softly. “Can we watch a movie together?” He asked with excitement, a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Of course, Jack.”

“Can we watch Cars? I wanna see Mcqueen go vroom vroom so fast like Uncle Lewis.”

“Sure, baby. Now how about we race downstairs?” Y/n said.

Together, they raced down the stairs, Toto and Jack's laughs echoing through the room. At the bottom of the stairs, Jack cheered as he reached the finish line first. "I win!" he exclaimed, panting and out of breath but smiling widely.

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and others

y/n_user Movie night in the house 🤭 Guess what are we watching tonight?

user_1 Jack!!!

user_14 next movie for movie night! please!!

mercedesamgf1 send us the invitation also Mr Big Boss, Baby Boss and Mrs Tiny boss

user_2 the Wolff fam

lewishamilton Roscoe miss u Jack

y/n_user we miss Roscoe too lewishamilton playdate tmr? y/n_user Jack said yessss charles_leclerc Leo wanna join too y/n_user pls join us tmr

user_6 playdate with the wolffs, hamiltons and leclercs said no more

georgerussell63 can I join 🥺

mercedesamgf1 and us too? scuderiaferrari us three redbullracing us four astonmartinf1 us five mclaren us six y/n_user how about a playdate at the paddock 🥳

[findafight]

Wait. Wait. Kinda part 2 to this post. For the angst of it all. Cw: implied and assumed homophobia

Because sure, after that dinner Joyce relents in not being, y'know, openly confused or frustrated with Steve being around. El obviously adores him and Jim is always glad when he comes around. Joyce can put up with Steve for them. But she's a stubborn woman, and somewhere in her mind, Steve is a Bad Egg. So she's still not 100% on board.

All this rears its head one night after a lot of their world saving group has had a movie night and ended up in a puddle on the floor. Steve is squished between Robin and Eddie, snuggled up all cozy. Joyce sees this when she quietly pads out of her bedroom to just. Check on the kids.

Eddie and Steve are sat up, Robin's face pressed against his hip. They're whispering something, heads leaned close. And they lean in further, silhouetted by the moonlight filtering in, and kiss. It's pretty chaste, though not a peck.

Joyce's blood boils. Steve has a girlfriend, he should not be going around kissing his friends like that, stringing them all along. She feels strangely vindicated, that her assumptions about Steve were right, that he wasn't actually a good guy or had changed at all. She almost yells at him then and there, but holds off. No need to wake everyone up. She can lecture him in the morning.

Once everyone is fed and lounging in the late morning, she pulls Steve out onto the porch.

"I saw you kiss Eddie last night" she says, without preamble. "And I cannot believe you would think behaviour like that is acceptable in my house."

Steve blinks, clenches his jaw. "Jo--Mrs Byers. I--"

"I don't want any of your excuses! It's despicable what you're doing, and I won't have it. For whatever reason, those kids look up to you. What kind of example are you setting for them? For El?" Steve's eyes widen, and if Joyce hadn't been so caught up with her anger she probably would have seen that instead of being ashamed or embarrassed, Steve is scared. "She looks up to you so much, though I can't imagine why. You need to clean yourself up, Steve. For real this time. You can't go around doing whatever you want. It's disgusting and disrespectful. Did you even consider the people you'd hurt? How doing shit like that would affect the lives of people who care about you? They deserve better than that." She shakes her head. Arms crossed. Steve is tense in front of her, but he doesn't say anything. To her, that's as good as confession. "Everyone talks about how you've worked hard to improve yourself, become a better person. But after last night? I just don't believe it. No one who's really changed, really a good person, would do what you did." She sighs. "You should probably leave now."

Steve nods stiffly. "Right. I'll. Uh, I leave. Can you...please, don't tell anyone, ma'am. I'll Grab my bag and I'll get outta your hair, but don't tell. I'm so sorry. Please." She purses her lips. His girlfriend deserves to know, but Joyce has no clue who that is (it might be the Robin girl attached to his hip, but she has no way of knowing). She nods once. Steve's shoulders slump.

Stepping back into the house, Steve quickly and jerkily snags his backpack from the corner it was shoved into before leaning over to whisper something in Robin's ear. The girl nods, looking worried.

He doesn't look at Eddie.

For a while, her house is Steve-free. Joyce breathes easy, hoping their talk was a wake-up call for steve. He is painfully polite when they bump into each other, Robin usually by his side with a strained customer service smile. Small talk is non-existent.

But then Will starts getting quieter. Maybe avoiding her. Certainly does his best to be small and doesn't look in her eyes. She has no idea what's going on, and she's worried.

What if the Upside Down came back? What if there's something wrong with her boy? What if everything they've fought for and sacrificed didn't mean anything and it's never actually over?

She tries to talk to him, but he shrugs her off, says he's fine and not to worry about it. Assures her it is definitely not the Upside Down.

Finally, after two weeks of Will looking absolutely miserable when he talks to her, she gets Jonathan to try. Tension around the house is high, Steve is barely around and always skitters away when he sees her, and in combination with will, it's out everyone on edge.

She doesn't mean to eavesdrop. But she doesn't not mean to either. It's just that they're on the porch, and she was in the kitchen and heard something, and when she went to see, she heard them talking.

"it's not--i want to tell you but it's not my secret to tell."

Jonathan sighs. "Will. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong. Please. Talk to me. I'll love you no matter what, you know that."

Will heaves a breath. "I had a talk with Steve --" and oh, the rage in Joyce's chest when she hears that. What did he say to her boy?? "And...uhg. fuck. Okay, you have to swear, swear! You're not going to tell anyone what I'm going to tell you. If you figure it out, because I don't. It's not mine to tell."

"okay. I swear. I won't go spilling Steve's secrets."

"you have to mean it, Jonathan. It's dangerous!"

There's ruffling fabric. Jonathan's voice is softer. "I promise."

"Steve said he was telling me because he thought we might be...similar. In some ways. And he talked about who he's dating. And that Hopper and El and Robin and Eddie know. And that they're all safe. Y'know? Like you are."

"okay..."

"and I said you were, and he said that was really good, and then emphasized that if I ever wanted like, and actual grown up to talk to, not just another teenager, Hopper was safe. But. The way he said it made it seem like...I don't know, but something was off? And I asked him." There's a pause. "I asked him if Mom knew. And he said yes. But he hadn't... Before that, he hadn't said she was safe. Jonathan..."

Something...wasn't adding up. Joyce was trying to puzzle what she wouldn't be safe to talk to about. She'd been in the tunnels and Upside Down and through it all. Her children, and by extension the children that had helped save them, were always safe in her house. To come to her if they felt unsafe. Why Steve would tell her own son she wasn't --

Will continued. "Steve said that it'd probably be different because I'm her kid, y'know? She--she did all this stuff to get me back and to keep me safe and loves me. So she could. So she'd maybe change her mind. For me."

"Will..." Jonathan's voice sounds pained.

"but what if she's not? What if that's where it ends? Shell save me from a demogorgon but not love me for this. Steve's saved my friends half a dozen times, Jonathan! He got--he got tortured" that is not something Joyce knew. When the hell did that happen? "with Robin to protect Dustin and Erica, Billy beat him half to death when he stepped in to protect Lucas and Max! He's good! I'm not as close to him as the others but he still told me. He trusted me enough with a secret that I can't even say outloud about myself yet! And Mom still-" will hiccups, and Joyce wishes she knew what he was talking about. Wishes he was saying these things to her, so she could comfort him.

Heaving a breath, Will is quieter. "Steve's the reason no one's died. He's El's first brother. And she still called him disgusting for-- for kissing someone he loves."

Ice fills Joyce's veins, a heavy pit balls in her stomach. Because that's not--she didn't--it wasn't like that.

But Steve had begged her not to tell anyone. Had stood still and not tried to justify anything and called her ma'am when he asked her not to tell. Held himself still when she was around and bolted at the first possible opportunity, leaving disappointed people in his wake. Oh, shit. Oh, she's fucked up so badly. Hurt some kid because she was suspicious of him from over three years ago and assumed the worst. Instead of realizing that maybe the reason he and his girlfriend were keeping it quiet was because he didn't have a girlfriend at all, and that the boy he kissed that night was his boyfriend, she had just assumed he was cheating. And then she'd told him he was disappointing and disgusting and a bad influence on the kids. Even after, he still made sure Will knew there were safe people around, that he'd have someone to talk to. And all she'd done was make him scared of her.

"oh, buddy."

Will's voice is muffled, and Jonathan has probably pulled him into a hug. It cracks when he speaks. "how can she say that about Steve but still love me? When so much of this shit's been my fault?"

"none of this is your fault. Don't believe that, will. No one blames you or El for any of it. You know that, right?"

"okay..."

"it's true. And as for mom...I don't know." Jonathan huffs "I'm not sure. I'm sorry, buddy."

Joyce turns then, feeling sick. She shouldn't have eavesdropped on her children, but now she had she was going to make things right. Hopefully.

Ensure everyone, including Steve, knew she was safe.

Part 3

[knightprincess]

No Matter What (Crosshair x Reader) - Platonic

Words: 1.3k Warning: Fluff with a little bit of hurt/comfort. Synopsis: After settling on Pabu with Clone Force 99, (Y/N) goes on a self-given mission with Crosshair to bring their lost brother home. Standalone Sequel: Silence

After the assault on Mount Tantis and the death of Hemlock, things had been different for Clone Force 99. Echo had refocused his efforts on helping the build Clone Rebellion, taking with him Emerie and some of the clones rescued from the Advanced Science Division, among them Comet. Omega had seamlessly adjusted to life on Pabu once more, happy to be just another kid, growing up peacefully until she was ready to join the fight once more if she did.

Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair would take care of Jax, Bayrn, Eva, and Sami until they could be returned to their families. Each had decided it was time to retire, to discover who they were outside of being soldiers, and to find out what adventures life had in store for them now. However, they’d always be on call if Echo ever needed them.

(Y/N) on the other hand, would use her skills as a bounty hunter to help provide for the people of Pabu and help clones across the galaxy find their way once they were freed from the empire. Although she loved the peace Pabu offered and the small family unit she had gained with Clone Force 99, she wasn’t ready to settle down completely. Not when she still had questions that needed answering. Not when she still needed to find closure.

“I miss him too,” said Crosshair, picking up Tech’s broken goggles from the dashboard of (Y/N)’s ship. Seconds later, a sigh escaped him, hidden within it, regret and grief. The last time he’d spoken to Tech was on Kamino; once again, they’d gone their separate ways. If only he’d chosen differently. “You have to let him go (Y/N). He wouldn’t want you to hold on like this.”

“I can’t,” whispered (Y/N), stopping what she was doing and allowing Crosshair’s words to sink in. “I have to bring him home, even if I have to say goodbye one last time,” she added, admitting she knew there was a chance Tech was truly gone, but she couldn’t allow herself to believe it, not until she found him. “He never gave up on me when I was lost. Neither of you did. I won't give up on him now until he’s home.”

“Then I’m going with you,” said Crosshair, putting the broken goggles back on the dashboard, moving to sleeping racks, and setting another up, if only to make his point clear.

“Omega and the kiddos need you here,” commented (Y/N), attempting to protest. Although she already knew it was pointless. Crosshair was one of the most stubborn people she knew. Once he made up his mind, there was little that could change it.

“Hunter and Wrecker can handle things here until we get back,” declared Crosshair, turning to face (Y/N) before crossing his arms over his chest. “Right now, you need me more,” he added, although he did not admit he’d thought about going out there to look for his brother. Something didn’t sit right with him, leaving Tech out there.

“I’m not going to win, am I?” asked (Y/N), sighing as she walked the length of her ship. Filled with memories of the past, her life as a Jedi Knight that felt like a lifetime ago, and her new life as a bounty hunter and protector.

“Nope,” simply responded Crosshair, “You’re stuck with me this time Shortfire.”

The moment Crosshair entered the cockpit, he pushed the red button, activating the com channel. He spoke to Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega there, informing them of his impromptu decision to join (Y/N) on her journey. Framing it to make sure she had backup and would come home again.

“It wasn’t your fault (Y/N),” said Crosshair when (Y/N) entered the cockpit, following the routine she’d once taught Tech, checking over all the systems. There’s nothing either of us could have done to stop him from using Plan 99.”

“If I was there, I could have stopped him from falling,” admitted (Y/N), finally opening up about the guilt haunting her. When her family needed her most on Eriadu, she was across the galaxy, hiding from her past and the Jedi Hunters that had seemingly appeared overnight.

“You were protecting them. No one could have predicted Saw being on Eriadu, and no one could have predicted Tech sacrificing himself. Blaming ourselves won’t change the past (Y/N). It will only prevent you from finding peace and happiness, whatever that looks like.”

“For what it’s worth, Fortune Cookie, I’m glad you’re coming with me,” admitted (Y/N), bestowing Crosshair with a new nickname, replacing the old one of Snarky Sniper. “I don’t think I could do this alone.”

“We’re family until the end,” Crosshair replied, pulling (Y/N) into himself and wrapping her in a warm embrace that seemed foreign but familiar to them both. “Where do we start?”

“Where our fight ended,” responded (Y/N) with a shakey voice, recalling when she’d gone to Eriadu, risking everything to follow the monorail track in search of Tech. She’d found the car's wreckage but no sign of Tech. If there was any blood, the rain had long since washed it away; there was no body to be found or any trace that he was even there, just what remained of the car.

“Tantis?” questioned Crosshair, confusion evident in his quiet voice as he took up the co-pilot’s seat.

“Hunter said Hemlock was the one to return Tech’s goggles; there’s got to be some trace, a lead to follow somewhere,” replied (Y/N), a slither of hope present in her otherwise whispered voice. She dared not speak louder in case her fears grew stronger and became her cruel reality.

“Setting course for Tantis,” worded Crosshair as (Y/N) piloted the ship safely away from the small island. As per tradition, the people waved goodbye, Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega among them.

“Take good care of them, Gonky,” spoke Omega through her com, receiving a simple gonk! in confirmation.

“We’ll see when you come home,” added Hunter, his voice filled with acceptance as if he knew the day would come when (Y/N) went in search of answers. As if he knew one day she’d go on the self-given mission to bring Tech home. “Stay safe out there.”

“You got it, Havoc #1,” replied (Y/N).

“I’ll make sure she comes home in one piece,” declared Crosshair, resting the stump of his wrist on his lap, grabbing onto the handle beneath his seat as he prepared for the rough climb out of Pabu’s atmosphere, “Our family’s been through enough. None of us can handle another loss.”

“We’re not losing anyone this time. We’re bringing our lost brother home,” replied (Y/N), determination alight in her voice. One way or another, the small family unit was going to be reunited again, no matter how long it took.

“Remind me again,” started Crosshair, fiddling with Tech’s broken goggles; now they’d left Pabu’s atmosphere. A smirk appeared across his lips as he remembered Tech’s hobby of recording everything—even the little things. “What you told us before we went into our first battle.”

“No matter what, I’ve got your back. I’d take a bullet for you if it comes to that. In the bitter end, we’re gonna be the last one standing.”

The holoclip appeared before the two, glowing blue and fuzzy. Of course, Tech had recorded it. They were so young back then, naive to what would happen when the war ended, unprepared for the cruel galaxy they lived in.

“Looks like Tech knew you were going to ask,” commented (Y/N); the smallest of grins appeared across her lips as she launched them into hyperspace. “Do you think Omega knows it?” she asked, curious if the boys would have shared the almost promise with Omega, the brave little girl growing up far too quickly, growing up to be a fighter no less—the best of all of them.

“She knows. Hunter would have made sure of it,” replied Crosshair, hope flooding his voice despite the uncertainty they both faced. “No matter what, Shortfire, I’ve got your back until the end.”

KnightPrincess Masterlist

[deathbxnny]

Can you write something about the stellar on hunters with a so who’s a herrscher?

-----♡

A/N: Hello! Thank you for the request! I wasn't too sure at first how to incorporate the Herrscher part in the hsr world at first, but I hope I did well!<33 Also what Herrscher the s/o is, is up to the reader!

Characters featured: Kafka, Blade and Silver Wolf

Content: Fluff, some very vague, but not really important Honkai lore mentions if some hi3 characters(?), Herrscher s/o

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not really proofread, so sorry for any mistakes!<3))

-----♡

☆《Stellaron Hunters with a Herrscher S/O!》☆

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》Kafka

Kafka is very intrigued by your abilities, or rather the power you hold. She wants to know absolutely everything about your abilities and your origin. Your strength is one of the many things she loves about you.

She's glad, that she doesn't need to worry about keeping you safe and is in fact flattered, when you protect her instead. She likes to nearly brag about your power to others in teasing words, knowing that she's unstoppable at your side.

She does her best in help you out too, depending on what type of Herrscher you are. If it's a Seele type of situation, then she makes sure to also bond with your Herrscher counterpart. If you're more like Welt and have your Herrscher abilities completely under control, then she'll make sure that you become stronger.

Either way, she loves your strength and how much it benefits the Organisation. Especially since you get their work done faster and in turn make more free time for her to spend with you. You also keep enemies away, which is always a plus.

As long as she is close to you, she feels powerful as well and that makes her happy.

-----♡

》Blade

He was at first unimpressed by your abilities, seeing as he thought he was quite strong already. But once he saw you out there on the battlefield, destroying waves of enemies with minimal effort and flaunting your powers... well, his opinion on your abilities changed. Yet he never voiced it out loud, being too prideful and stubborn to ever admit it. Not that you needed to hear it, with the way he eyes you everytime you show off your power.

Blade still tries to protect you at all times, even if you can do it on your own just fine. He will also probably get a little salty, if you protect him all the time instead, though he doesn't mind it all too much. Not with the way that it secretly warms his supposedly "cold and dead" heart.

Depending on what your Herrscher type is, he will act differently with your powers. If you have a Herrscher counterpart that's tormenting you from the inside, then he may become hostile towards it. If not, then he'll treat it just like he treats you.

If your in full control of your Herrscher abilities, then he'll take that as an invitation to cause as much havoc and chaos as possible. It makes him proud to see the destructive force of your abilities and know, that you are his. Only his.

All in all pretty impressed by it deep down, even more so if you enjoy the art of battle as much as he does. Protect his back and he'll protect yours.

-----♡

》Silver Wolf

She doesn't really care much, that you're a Herrscher. Don't get her wrong, she finds it impressive and is quite proud to have an s/o like you. But other than that, she doesn't make a big fuss out of it.

She feels more at ease knowing that you're watching her back, whilst she hacks into facilities and such. It makes her more relaxed and focused, her eyes always glancing at you here and there to reassure herself that you are still there with her. Not that she has to worry anyways, when you can easily handle enemies with a single wave of a hand.

Likes it, when you tell her about your abilities or Herrscher existence, whilst she works. Is surprisingly still able to remember every detail you tell her, even if she seems like she isn't listening or she doesn't care. But she promises that she does.

If you have a Herrscher counterpart that's tormenting you, she'll do her best to make it co-operate with her own means. If it's friendly however, then she'll make sure to treat it with equal respect to you.

Is basically proud to have you as her lover, but doesn't make a big deal out of your abilities. With or without your powers, she'd still love you the exact same.

-----♡

A/N: I hope this was okay! I haven't played Honkai in a very long time, so I hope, this isn't too bad.

(Requests are always appreciated!<33)

[incorrect-trolls-imagines]

Party squad but jealous headcannon (not of each other) love your work 🫶🏽

look i KNOW it was most definitely a typo but "Party Squad" got me giggling and stuff ngl--

♥️🖤💙 Partner Squad Being Jealous Headcanons ♥️🖤💙

❤️ Barb ❤️

How easy is to make her jealous: 8/10

When she gets jealous she tries to not let it show, but, let's be honest here, she's terrible at it and it's very, very obvious. She's this 👌 close from outright snarling at whoever got her jealousy senses going. It not common for her to get jealous but it can sometimes happen and she's too stubborn to admit she's feeling that way, so you have to really talk her through it if you want her to feel more at ease.

Best way to reassure her: Quality time! It's as simple as that. Especially if it's with a lot of nose nuzzles and tiny kisses, those are her weakness and will help her forget about whoever set her off.

🩷 Poppy 🩷

How easy is to make her jealous: 3/10

She knows better than to be jealous (she's one of the hardest to get jealous out of the whole Squad actually), but sometimes she can't help it. There are moments when she sees other trolls outside of the polycule being a bit too friendly with you for her taste and she gets kinda restless about it. She won't be outspoken about it but it's very obvious when she's upset about something because her smile looks way more forced and she laughs a lot to cover up how tense she feels.

Best way to reassure her: Just. Talk her through it, really. Remove yourself and her from the vicinity of the troll that got her feeling jelly and give her some smooches, tell her how much you love and appreciate her and it'll be like night and day in no time at all.

🩵 Branch 🩵

How easy is to make him jealous: 9/10

It is very known already he gets increasingly grouchier whenever he gets jealous, which is not that often but his Jelly-Meter™️ can very easily be triggered. He will pout, he will sulk and he will make a lot of passive aggressive comments about the troll that was getting too comfy with you in his personal opinion. But even if he can be very easily set off in this aspect, he's never been wrong about his assumptions before, and he knows when someone outside the polycule is flirting with you and when the conversation is entirely friendly and harmless.

Best way to reassure him: Distract him first to help him cool off and then let him vent about it, because trust me, he'll have a whole monologue to destress about the situation. Also, validate him so he doesn't feel like he's overreacting, because he will kinda feel bad about it if you don't.

💙 Trollex 💙

How easy is to make him jealous: 5/10

Trollex can be a bit oblivious at times when it comes to this kind of stuff. He's blissfully aloof because more often than not his focus is on you and you only. But, once he catches someone getting a bit too close to you, or making a few out-of-pocket comments about your appearance or personality, that's when he snaps out of Heart Eye Land, that's his "hol' up" moment. He gets pouty, grumbles a lot and he'll be wearing this half pout half scowl look when he talks to the troll that made him jelly. It's comically obvious he's upset.

Best way to reassure him: Stepping away from the situation and talking about it it's the best route to take with this fella, but it'll help his peace of mind a million times over if you blow off whoever was flirting with you yourself. He'll also get super giddy if you add any remarks towards your happy position inside the polycule, so please do add those remarks, please.

💚 Tresillo 💚

How easy is to make him jealous: 7.5/10

Tresillo’s a cool guy, he usually very chill about other trolls interacting with you, not even blinking an eye when someone else hugs you or hangs out around you frequently. But things change once he knows that someone has ulterior motives and it's clearly flirting. He'll get vocal about it right there and then, fuming at the lack of shame the other troll has for daring to act like that right in front of him. To keep things from escalating further than this, you'll have to drag him away while he grumbles and curses in Spanish under his breath.

Best way to reassure him: Once the situation is over, he'll need a lot of hugs and cuddles to help him cool off and go back to his calm persona. He'll be sorta pissy about the whole thing for a few hours but that'll pass eventually, just keep those cuddles coming and he'll be fine.

🧡 Hickory 🧡

How easy is to make him jealous: 2/10

Hickory almost never ever gets jealous. Not even when someone comes up to you to flirt or whatever, because on top of being a calm soul, he's cocky as hell. He knows very dang well you won't give pay the time of day to any attempt at seduction from some rando troll outside the polycule, so he just watches with a knowing smirk, snickering to himself and lets you deal with the situation if you're up for it. He'll only intervene if you too fed up and then he'll simply wrap and arm around your waist and pull you away to go somewhere else. Easy peasy.

Best way to reassure him: In the very, very, very rare case that he does get jealous of someone else, he won't actually need you to do anything at all. He'll keep his frustrations to himself and he'll deal with them on his own and it'll be as if he wasn't bothered at all cuz he's got an image to uphold, okay?

[madeintheniamh]

Please can you do one of the girls getting braces because i'm getting mine next week :D

golden girl

stmf one shot #23

good luck, babe. i had 4 years of braces. they're the worst, but you'll be grateful once they're off xx

“I’m not going, Mum,” Tilly shouted at you, her eyebrows furrowed in the exact same way that Harry’s did when he was annoyed about something.

“You can’t keep putting it off, lovey,” you replied. “You were supposed to have them put on a year ago now,”

Her lips were now set in a straight line, and her eyes began to turn glossy as she turned around to march up the stairs back to her bedroom.

“Come on baby, it won’t be that bad,”

You heard her slam her bedroom door behind her. “Leave me alone,”

This hadn’t been the first time you had tried to make Tilly have her braces put on. Every time the day of the appointments came closer, it seemed as though she always had an adequate excuse prepared for why she needed you to reschedule. Exams. Gymnastics competitions. A friend’s birthday. Feeling sick. And every time, Harry always gave in, to your annoyance. So, it had now been a year since she was supposed to have the wretched things put on in the first place, and she was stubborn, just like her Dad- once she made her mind up on something, it was impossible for you to get her to change it- although there was one person who could. You sighed to yourself, before knocking on the door of his office.

He was sat on one of the armchairs in the corner that faced out onto the garden, holding his guitar in his arms and the pick in-between his teeth. He was so focused on what he was doing that it took him a minute to notice you, and he jumped slightly as he looked up and found your gaze.

“Oh my- hey my love, you okay?”

You sat down next to him, exhaling slowly whilst picking at one of your nails.

“Well, Tilly’s booked in to get her braces on later, but she tells me she’s not going,”

He smiled to himself, placing the guitar down on the space next to him. “Oh god,” he moaned sarcastically. “Not this again,”

“I don’t know what to do,” Your voice began to crack slightly. “I’m just trying to help her. I don’t know why she’s so upset about it. She’s just been so snappy with me recently, and I-”

“Let me sort it.” He answered before you could finish. “I’m sure I can persuade her, one way or another,”

“I don’t even think you can, H,” You sighed. “She’s so stubborn, like someone else I know,”

He snorted slightly and rolled his eyes. “We’ll see about that,”

He kissed your forehead before left the room, going downstairs to make use of one of his favourite persuasion tactics.

---

Harry knocked on her bedroom door softly.

“Go away, I’m not going,” she moaned.

“I’ve made you a cup of tea,” he smirked whilst turning the handle, opening the door to find Tilly lying under layers of blankets, in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and one of Harry’s old t-shirts. Despite the death stare she gave Harry, she still held her hands out to accept the mug.

He closed the door behind him.

“Dad, I’m not-”

“Okay,” he sighed. “You’re not going, fine.”

“Okay?” Her face lit up. “Really?”

“No,” he laughed. “You need to do this, Til, you’re driving your mum mad, you’re nearly fifteen,”

“I’m not talking to you,” she groaned, covering her head with a blanket. He reached over to grab the mug on her bedside table.

“Okay, well, I’m taking this back then,” he chuckled.

“Nooooo!” she gasped, coming back up from under the covers. “That’s not fair!”

“Why don’t you want to go, Til?” he asked whilst running his hands through her hair, which had now grown down to her hips. “It’s okay to be nervous about it, I know you don’t like the dentist,”

“I’m not!” She pouted her lips. “I just don’t want them,”

“Well, why? Loads of people have to get braces, Til,”

“You never had to have them,” she sulked, her brows now furrowed. “You don’t get it,”

“Well, maybe not, but Mummy had to have them for a little bit, and she was fine,”

“No one has braces when they’re fifteen,” she sighed. “Izzy in my French class had hers off last week, I don’t want to be the last one with them on,”

“Loads of people have braces when they’re older Til, there isn’t an age limit,” he chuckled. “Uncle Niall was 18 when he had his braces put on,”

“Still,” She moaned. “I don’t want them. Everyone says they hurt,”

He peppered a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe they won’t hurt, you never know,”

Her eyes began to turn glossy. “But Daddy, I’m frightened, remember when I had to get my tooth taken out and they used that massive needle, and I fainted, what if that happens again,”

She began to sob softly into his arms.

“I remember Til, you’re going to make me cry, baby,” he whispered into her ear. “But I’m sure that won’t happen today, okay? I’m going to hold your little hand the whole time, and if the dentist comes anywhere near you with a needle, I’ll fight him,” he smiled.

“You will?” she sniffled. “Are you sure it will be fine, Daddy?”

“I’m sure, baby,” he chuckled. “I promise you. Now come on, let’s get dressed,”

----

Tilly sat up slowly in the leather chair, having been lying down for the past 45 minutes, her hand still clasped tightly in Harry’s as it had been the whole time. Her lips were slightly chapped, and she licked them as she pouted at Harry with disdain.

“You’re not going to give me a smile?” Harry sighed, rubbing her tiny knuckles with the tip of his thumb. Tilly shook her head.

“It feels weird,” She stared at him disapprovingly, running her tongue over the new pieces of metal that were now glued to her teeth.

“It’s gunna feel weird, Tilly bug,” He smiled. “Come on, I wanna see them!”

Tilly rolled her eyes, before flashing him a sarcastic grin. “I look awful,”

“Hey,” Harry warned, lifting her chin up softly with his hand. “You know that’s not true,”

“I do,” She moaned, placing her hand over her mouth and running the sleeve of her oversized hoodie across her lips. “And it hurts,”

Harry swooped his hand across her face, tucking back a strand of loose hair that had fallen out of her French plait, before pressing his lips to the top of her forehead. Her lips began to quiver slightly, as her eyes turned a glossy shade of green.

“Shhhh, I know,” He soothed, holding his hand out and beckoning her to follow him. “Come on, let’s get you home, babydoll,”

Tilly hadn’t said anything at all on the car journey home, until Harry had seemingly decided to take an alternative route, now navigating the huge Range Rover down the narrow Hampstead high street, reversing it backwards into a bay on the side of the road.

“Daddy? Where are you-”

He peppered a kiss to her swollen cheek. “You stay here, I’ll be quick,”

10 minutes later, Tilly was practically asleep in the passenger seat, her sunglasses having fallen down on the bridge of her nose, still swamped in her hoodie. She almost jumped at the noise of the car unlocking, and was greeted by Harry grinning wildly at her, pink coloured ice cream dribbling down the side of his wrist. He licked it off slowly, passing the cup to Tilly, who began to smile too.

“You thought I was just gunna drive home without getting you something? Look at that gorgeous little smile,” He grinned.

Tilly looked back up at him, now bringing the spoon to her mouth, still smirking at him with her new metallic smile, her cheeks rosy.

“I love you, Daddy,” She whispered, pushing her sunglasses back up on her nose.

“You know I love you more, golden girl,”

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

I HAVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH <3

more to come more to come i have too many wips. but i'll give you this for now, so sorry anon you probs had your braces for a good few weeks now but enjoy anyway hehehh xx

this forms part of my dadrry one shot series! so if you did enjoy i have linked the masterlist here. please give it some love and send in any requests bc i'm in a writing/reading slump at the moment so any requests would be appreciated. love you all hope you are having a good week <3

[in1-nutshell]

I wonder what would the Maxima being a prime stuff but with the other scenario

Where instead of Smokescreen saving Optimus, it was Maxima

I got to start making more comfort for our girl here...

Anyways!

Hope you enjoy!

Maxima becoming Maximum Prime (Altern. Version)

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Angst, Mention of character death (its Prime but he always comes back) Cybertronian reader

TFP

Everything was happening too fast.

Too sudden.

It seemed as if Maxima had just returned from a peaceful patrol and was now told to evacuate the only other home on this planet.

But it was happening and there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it.

The only thing she could really do now was help ease the process for the younger members of the team and try and keep morale up.

Maxima gently placing Miko into Bulkhead’s alt mode. She was the last of the children to go. Miko: “You guys will be okay, right?” Maxima forcing a sad smile: “We’ll be fine Miko.” Miko: “…Okay, you better be. If not I’ll punch your lights out!” Maxima: “I don’t doubt it.” Maxima taking a shaky vent and holds out her digit so Miko could shake it. With that Bulkhead drives away. Maxima catching Smokescreen sneaking off and grabs his doorwing: “Your next Smokes.” Smokescreen grumbles a bit after getting caught. Maxima pats his shoulder and watches him go off through the groundbridge.

As soon as it was Ratchet’s turn though, the tears started escaping as she embraced the older medic tightly.

No one knew what was going to happen…

If this was her last time seeing him... she was going to make the most out of it.

Soon enough it was just her and Optimus.

Once the coordinates were set and the groundbridge whirled to life for one last go, the dam broke.

She clung onto her father so tightly, she was sure she had created new dents in both their armors.

Optimus immediately responded and hugged her back with almost the same tightness.

Maxima wanted to say something, anything to change his mind about going with her.

But she had gotten her stubbornness from somewhere and it wasn’t just Ratchet or Megatron.

With one last squeeze, she quickly transformed and sped into the bridge.

She had to do it quickly, if not she would have turned back.

Once through Maxima began to look around at her surroundings.

It took a couple of minutes to realize that this had been one of her patrol routes near the base.

She could still make it!

…All those happy thoughts however died the moment she saw a great explosion in the direction of the base.

Maxima didn’t remember screaming for him.

Nor when she transformed and drove straight into the wreckage of her home.

She did remember the moment she saw her father’s battered frame in the rubble of the base.

Maxima with wide optics and tears: “DAD!” She scurries over to him getting as much debris as she can and pulls him to a ‘cleaner area of the wreckage. She looks over at his wounds. Maxima forcing a smile: “It looks bad… but I can fix it! Just wait, I’m sure there’s some tools around!” Optimus: “…Maxima…” Maxima holding his servo: “Don’t talk, save your energy. Now if I can just remember where I put the spare tools—” Optimus: “Maxima…” Maxima holding the servo tighter as more tears start escaping: “I know I can-can find ‘em! Just hold on for a second—” POP! Optimus had opened his chassis presenting the Matrix of Leadership. Maxima is in shock. Optimus: “I… know how you feel about the Matrix… but now the team needs a leader.” Maxima: “That’s why I’m going to fix you!” Optimus coughing roughly: “My time with the Allspark is almost here… Maxima…” Optimus tries to raise his servo to her faceplate. She grabs it and presses it on her. He gently strokes one of his digits to wipe a tear. Optimus: “Do not cry for me… be our light in our… darkest… hour…” The servo started going limp. Maxima: “Optimus? Optimus!” She starts shaking his shoulders, panic settling in faster seeing his frame starting to turn grey. Maxima: “Dad! DAD! PLEASE DON’T GO! DAD PLEASE!... please… don’t leave me…”

Maxima hurriedly turns to the Matrix seeing it floating closer and closer to her chassis.

She grabs at the limp servo and quietly opens her chassis and closed her optics one last time as Maxima.

Maximum Prime opened her optics for the first time and saw the greying frame of the former Prime before her.

She began to stand up when she noticed the Forge of Solus Prime in the wreckage.

An idea popped in her helm.

Orion Pax opened his optics groaning. He looks up to see a tall bot that eerily looked like his sparkling. Orion: “Where am I? What is going on? Where is Maxima?” Maximum Prime gently places a servo on his shoulders giving him a kind smile. Maximum: “It has been a long time Orion Pax. I promise to tell you everything in time, but we must find our missing comrades before Megatron does.” Orion: “Megatron? Like Megatronus?” Maximum holding out her servo: “It is a long story Pax.” Orion grabbing her servo as they maneuver their way through the wreckage and finally to the desert. Orion: “I am rather fond of stories.” Maximum: “…This story starts with an abandoned sparkling and a friendly archivist…”

[lanafofana]

WIP wednesday

I want to write something cute and fluffy and sweet but all my heart knows is hot chip and angst.

The Inescapable Inevitability of Goodbye

It started with Lae’zel. Tall and proud. Regal. Astride a dragon that Tav had been powerless to talk her down from. The look she had given Tav could have cleaved her chest wide open. A lifetime of words in one fierce stare and then she had nodded, just once, and the dragon had launched to the skies.

Goodbyes were inevitable, she reminded herself, heart pounding with loss.  

Next had been Karlach and Wyll. Beautiful, incadescent Karlach who had nearly given in to her fate but for dear Wyll, the voice of reason and conviction to change her stubborn mind at last. Their goodbyes had been hasty, desperately quick. Tav’s not even sure she could remember the words they exchanged, nothing specific.

But long after they’re gone, in the secret quiet places of her mind she hears Karlach’s voice saying, “My friend, my companion, I adore you.” She keeps it close to her heart so she might be warmed by it when all other sources of warmth were sapped from her. 

She’d hardly taken a beat to process the emptiness of a Faerûn without Karlach Cliffgate and Wyll Ravengard when Astarion had gasped, his skin flaking away like burning ashes. He’d run for cover and that had been that. Another gaping wound in her chest. She wondered how it kept beating. 

Standing at the edge of the docks, grasping for something to feel victorious about Gale had materialized, staring at the horizon. Right. The crown. His duty. She was proud of him, he’d come such a long way from the wizard who had fallen out of the portal so long ago. Traded his pride for humility, his ambition for wisdom. His course was set, soon he would retrieve the crown and reforge it, taking it to his goddess. 

Tav smiled and cupped his face, ignoring his surprise. No matter how long they took dithering at the door, the goodbyes were inevitable, she had learned to grasp at what comfort she could when she could. So she stroked his beard with her thumb and memorized the exact shade of his eyes when they’re emblazoned by a smoldering city. Before he could give voice to the concern in his gaze she’d patted his cheek fondly and stepped away. 

Their night of celebration passed in a blur of music, laughter, drinking, dancing and fucking. When she woke up and rolled over to see Halsin already looking at her softly she felt another hole burning through her chest and she hated that she wasn’t even surprised. Only resigned.

Goodbyes were inevitable. 

When he began to explain the path he was now set on, his place in this post-Absolute world she smiled and nodded. Said all the right things. Because she had learned a long time ago that goodbyes were not for her, never for her, they were for other people. An opportunity for them to glean a measure of comfort and it was her place to provide it.

So she smiled while her heart cracked open and she congratulated and she soothed while the brittle spaces between her ribs turned to dust.  She promised to visit because lying came as naturally to her as breathing. And then she left.

Sometimes you had to be the one to leave first when someone told you goodbye. 

She lingers in the city, telling herself it’s to help the wounded. Tending and nurturing and healing she fills her days with servitude to those in need. At night she sits at her window, staring out at the view being rebuilt. Each night the scenery changes little by little, the wounds closing, the Gate piecing itself back together. Erasing the scars with repairs. 

She sits, and she watches, and she plucks at the chords of her heart, testing how sharply the pain twangs, and thinks about how a thing must be broken beyond recognition before it can be fixed. And wonders, if there’s nobody left to help with the restoration, can a thing be pieced back together at all.

Or if it really matters, when all her heart has ever learned to play was the same melancholy tune.  

She wakes one day and Shadowheart and her parents are gone. Jaheira and Minsc and Boo too. Forging the new paths of their lives. Tav wonders what it must feel like to hold a world of possibility in your own hands. Is it heavy? Does it burn? She packs her things and goes to the dock one last time. 

The sky is no longer on fire, the streets are no longer littered with corpses. When she drinks in the air she can smell fish and wet stone and something briney that gusts in off the water. 

“Good bye, sun,” she says to the gulls that cry over the harbor. 

“Good bye, sea,” she says to the horizon, blue and sparkling in the late morning light.  

“Good bye,” she says to her adventure, the Gate, and the million and one tiny little might-have-beens that tumble out of her heart and into the sea. 

She dries her face and tells herself the ache in her chest is a bruise and not a tear. 

“It’s time to go home.” 

[mamaspeckles]

Would it be okay to request some velvet x blind!reader headcanons? Can be SFW or NSFW, whatever you’d rather write!

Hello my love I am so sorry for such a long wait! Of course I can do this for you! I am partially blind(I have low vision but I can sorta see) and seeing this request just pulls at my heart strings❣️ I hope you enjoy reading this because I enjoyed making this! PS! I only wrote SFW Headcanons because I got brain rot near the end so no NSFW for this one sorry:( but if you request for NSFW again I will work on it!

Velvet x Blind!Reader SFW

CHARACTER IS 18+

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

-when it comes to velvet, she can be quite the aggressive and straightforward- she has always been stubborn and hardheaded, and often at times struggles to comprehend you being blind. Sometimes, she finds it extremely stressful and difficult to find the right words to console you. She feels the need to walk on eggshells with you around in case she says the wrong things.- but as time goes by and she sees your overpowering determination, she grows respect for your will to strive.

-velvet had went from 0 to 100 in a one month- she had become territorial over you and had grown a strong urge to protect you and baby you for your disability.

-once you started dating the pop-star, she made it her number one goal to do everything for you, no matter the circumstances. You want to cook something? Oh, don’t be ridiculous, velvet will kick you out of the kitchen and make you a delicious meal! She doesn’t want her lover accidentally burning themselves or setting the house to ablaze.

-velvet had paid a professional to fix your apartment to make it look nicer for her eyes but also to furnish it for your safety- she had every sharp corner or dangerous object in the apartment changed and basically baby-proofed your home.

-velvet is a show-off, especially because of her career of being a mega-star in Mount Rageon.- but when it comes to her showing you off in front of the flashing lights and fans, that is a big no-go.

MEETING FAMILY HEADCANONS :

-“velvet?” “Yes, babe?” “Are you embarrassed to be with me?” “What makes you say that?” “You never introduced me to your friends or family..”

-velvet’s face dropped at your words; she could start to taste the vulnerability seething off your body and lips. She felt terrible that you felt that way. - she cursed herself in her mind for making you think and feel like you were embarrassing to be with. “No no, babe..I’m not embarrassed! I just wasn’t sure if you even wanted to meet anyone from my side..they can be..overbearing..”

-but she would do anything for her beautiful partner to be happy, and with all the guilt velvet had felt, she made a mutual agreement with her family to have you meet them- when you went with her to her family’s house, you were greeted by veneer, who you had met countless times before, and he was very pleased to see you with velvet at his house.- later that evening, you met velvet’s mother and father. Velvet had described her mother as a old women with dull blue eyes, pale skin, and faded out green hair whilst her father as a old man with dark green hair with dull ice blue eyes.

-I should add that when velvet said her family is overbearing, she meant it as they are too helpful- her parents and even veneer were quick to offer you help and even a tour around the house.- they had trailed you around their house and started describing your surroundings in the most abrupt way possible.

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

I TRIED IM SORRY IF THIS IS BAD 😭

[isa-ghost]

May I humbly ask for more q!phil headcanons? 👉👈

Fuck yeah concrete >:D

Previous Sets: Set 1 Set 2 Set 3 Set 4 Set 5

M O R E

He'll go above & beyond for his friends for as long as it takes, but when a situation proves futile or hopeless, he gives up. And hates it. He feels guilty for it even when he knows there's nothing more he can do. He also HATES being helpless (it's part of why he's taking being grounded so hard)

Once his mind is made up, it's made up. It's very hard to change his mind. You practically need a PowerPoint of irrefutable facts & proof of why he should think another way

Yeah. He's stubborn. It can be infuriating. But it comes from a place of life experience, knowing what he wants, and a hint of paranoia for flavor. It's not exactly a flaw, but it does act as a detriment sometimes

And don't get him wrong, he doesn't always like being stubborn. Sometimes he just can't imagine things any other way than how he's picturing. He does feel bad sometimes about being the way he is. He has a hard time trusting things that aren't his gut or Rose

He's grown to like walks. He misses flying obv but walkies are pretty okay. He still gets to see neat stuff, and clear his head if his paranoia isn't too awful

He knows he's losing touch with reality slowly. He's just unaware there's words for it (derealization, dissociation). And he tries really hard not to think about it, it makes him sick with dread because once again, it gnaws at his ability to control his situation or himself

Btw that's one of his deepest fears if it wasn't obvious. Like yeah he has basic bitch fears that most other people have like losing loved ones or w/e, but his personal Big Fear is the loss of his autonomy. It's part of why he's an anarchist & hates the Federation, another part of why being flightless is killing him inside, and part of why Ender King scares him. Especially after Rose's most recent message (1/17/24) said EK has no vessel. Phil's mind shot right to "He needs a vessel and that vessel is me. That's what he wants."

He does NOT like acknowledging that to a degree, he & Ender King DO have things in common. He constantly rationalizes it in his brain as "I have crow brain, I collect the things that look shiny & cool. Ender King is malicious, it's not the same."

Lowkey hates the quiet. It's nice to get out of chaotic environments for bit, but that doesn't mean the silence will grant him peace. He starts getting lost in his own head, or winds up understimulated. Music is a good buffer. Ideally though, he likes having the kids or one person to bounce off of (& keep him mentally grounded when he's stressed). It's why he adventures with Fit so often.

Speaking of silence, and calling back to fears, there's something so inexplicably uncomfortable to him about footsteps that aren't his, esp in quiet. See, the admins invisible Federation workers that just monitor things, he can usually tolerate those bc it's easy to guess when it's them he's accompanied by & not an unknown presence. But man, when he knows he should absolutely be alone atm but hears movement that isn't his own, his adrenaline shoots through the roof. (Little does he know, that's Hardcore Instincts kicking in. He's used to that movement being a mob out to kill him)

Rose's Sanctuary is a fitting enough "altar" for her, so to speak. Even though she made it herself. The Goddess of Death however, Phil needs something for her. He has a locket with a wither rose engraved in it for now, he doesn't want to be questioned by his friends why there's a weird purple & black altar in his house when,,, he might have to tell them there's (an entirely different) purple & black motherfucker trying to maybe possess him who Is Very Bad. Also there's no way they'd believe he's married to a goddess. He can hear Fit laughing already.

He keeps getting distracted but he really wants to either build a practice range for bows or just. Go on a solo adventure shaking off the rust on his aim. He misses the rush of pride he gets when he snipes something so flawlessly. He also procrastinates on it when he's Not distracted bc he has the scythe & he's in love with it. (Also it's a symbol of Death Wife)

Every now and then he'll banter with the invisible Feds trying to bargain with them for the Good Shit(tm) Mexican food they had at Mexican Independence Day. Things have been so chaotic lately he hasn't gotten the chance to ask Chayanne to make them & like HELL he could successfully make them himself

That said, he's actually not a terrible cook like he claims. He just hates how laborious cooking can be LMAO.

Even so, he still really wants to cook for Missa. Purely for bonding reasons. He has no idea Missa would probably crush even harder on him, Phil still thinks they're mutually platonic.

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Eight

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of vomiting, mentions of suicide, basically summarizing the trial from the movie, allusions to abortion, foul language, sexual content.

A/N: y’all wanted the drama, you’re getting the drama. this chapter was weird for me to write, ngl. thanks to @melancholicmelanin for beta’ing for me last minute. as always, I love your comments and all the anons- they seriously make this worth it. I didn’t intend on taking this fic in this direction at all, but here we go. (And, as always, thanks to @luxlisbons for being on the receiving end of my neuroses)

In the quiet of Vincent’s room, Leah remained in bed for an entire day, shifting only when discomfort set in or when Vincent appeared at the doorway to check on her. At one point, she stirred as the mattress dipped, catching a glimpse of Vincent holding a plate of orange slices and a cup of water. A pang of guilt washed over her, realizing the burden her melancholy was placing on him, invading his space and life. She wondered if he was growing tired of her current state.

"Eat something," Vincent urged, nudging the plate towards her. Reluctantly, she sat up and popped an orange slice into her mouth.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, displaying numerous missed calls from her father and her therapist, but he decided against mentioning it.

"What happened in New York?" he inquired softly.

"Nothing important," she replied, swallowing the orange and taking a sip of water. "I think my friend's kid got me sick."

"Right," he nodded, a hint of doubt flickering in his eyes despite his understanding nod.

He observed in silence as she finished the last orange slice and drained the remaining water.

"We go to trial on Monday," he informed her, to which she nodded.

"I'll be better by then," Leah assured him. "I promise."

Throughout the rest of the week, Leah avoided Vincent, mastering the art of vomiting quietly or simply moving food around on her plate to create the illusion that she had eaten. Frequently dozing off on the couch, she felt anxious around him, harboring a fear that he might possess the same keen perception or foresight that his eccentric mother had displayed. The fear lingered in Leah's mind that Vincent could touch her and instantly know the truth, as if he possessed some uncanny ability to see through her facade with a mere contact.

"You're cold," he observed as he entered the living room where she was engrossed in reading Sandra's case files.

"No, it's actually quite warm in here," she replied as he shook his head.

"No, you're cold, distant," he insisted.

"I've been sick, and the exhausting flight and difficult mediation have left me drained," Leah explained, hoping to deflect his suspicions.

Unconvinced, Vincent pressed on, "Why haven't you been sleeping in bed with me?"

Rather than making up an excuse, She sighed and confronted the underlying issue, "What are we, Vincent? Are we friends, a fling? Where is this relationship headed?"

Vincent looked puzzled, "Where is all this coming from?"

"You once said we have all the time in the world, but do we really?" She questioned.

"That was when you told me I made you whole," He countered.

"Context matters," She pointed out.

"What's the context of this argument, then?" He challenged.

Leah, stubborn as the day is long, shook her head.

“What happened in New York that changed you?” He asked softly.

"How long have we known each other, Vincent?" She asked, already aware of the answer.

"I think just over a month," He replied honestly, “Maybe closer to two?”

"Then how can you say I've changed when you barely know me?" She snapped, looking at him intently, her entire body engaged for a fight she hadn't planned on having.

"How do you know this isn't the real me?" She added, sounding frustrated. "You can't presume to understand who I am."

"All I see is your missed calls, lack of appetite…you won’t let me touch you.” He admitted nervously.

"Do you just want to fuck me, Vincent?" She stood up, hands on her hips, challenging him.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," He replied, standing his ground.

"Let me work in peace and stop analyzing me," She said firmly, returning to her seat on the couch.

Vincent, feeling sheepish, sat on the chaise opposite her, trying to figure out what had gone wrong between them.

______________________________________

"I’m pregnant," Leah spoke quietly into the phone as she poured a cup of tea.

Kate emitted a sound that was a mix of a scream and a gasp on the other end of the call. "I fucking knew it," she said.

"Yeah, well, I don’t know what to do," Leah admitted as she sat at the table with her teacup.

"His mom knows because apparently she’s fucking psychic," Leah continued. "I walked in, and she took one look at me, and she fucking knew."

Kate sighed heavily on the other end. "Does he know?"

"No," Leah said. "I can’t tell him right before the trial and mess with his headspace. I think I've already shaken up his life enough."

"Come home and take care of it," Kate advised. "Quick and simple."

Leah sighed, rubbing her temples. "It’s not that easy. I can’t leave during the case without raising his suspicion. Besides, I barely let him touch me now. I let him eat me out and fuck me yesterday because he cornered me against the kitchen counter, and he said I tasted different. The whole vibe was off after."

"Well, yeah," Kate agreed. "Your whole-body changes when you’re pregnant."

"Now I think he’s convinced I slept with someone else or have someone at home waiting for me, and I’m just bamboozling him," Leah said with a saddened tone.

"I finally climbed into bed with him last night after sleeping on the couch for close to a week, and he immediately rolled over and scooted close to me. His hand found its way to my belly, and it took everything in me not to blurt it out then and there," Leah admitted.

"What?" Kate asked. "That you’re pregnant?"

"No," Leah laughed sardonically. "That I’m in love with him."

Somehow, that revelation shocked Kate more than the news of the pregnancy.

________________________________________

"Are you going to answer that?" Vincent gestured towards Leah's vibrating phone, but she shook her head. They sat together at the kitchen table, poking at bits of scrambled eggs and fresh strawberries on their plates.

"He wants me to come home and join his firm," Leah stated firmly. "I have no desire to work with him or anyone in his firm."

"Your dad is a lawyer?" Vincent inquired, sipping his tea.

"You really don’t know much about me, do you?" Leah asked seriously. "That’s the only thing I inherited from him," she added with a hint of bitterness. "I come from a long line of deceitful, conniving, bald-faced lying lawyers. All on his side."

"And your therapist," Vincent tapped the back of her phone, "You’re not going to answer their calls either?"

"Why would I?" Leah chuckled. "She's just going to tell me to stop messing around with you and go home. Besides, why are you worried about this?" she asked. "I’ve had a therapist since I was sixteen; I'm not going to throw myself from the balcony or anything. I’m just in a slump.”

"I don’t want you to isolate yourself while you're here," Vincent said, offering her a kind smile.

"Well, ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?" Leah half-joked.

Vincent laughed and nodded in agreement.

"You know this trial is going to be tough, right?" he questioned.

"I know," Leah replied, taking a sip of her tea and nodding at him. "This isn't my first rodeo. I'm built for war."

_______________________________________

Leah found the trial fascinating and bizarre, a stark contrast to the sterile courtrooms she was used to back home. The architectural setup, with the judges raised above the room and Sandra seated far away from her own counsel, spoke volumes. The trial itself felt like a free-for-all, and when Vincent walked out in his robes with the frilly collar, Leah had to stifle visible awe and a wave of humor. The awkward moment of listening to Zoë and Sandra’s recorded conversation made Leah's skin crawl. It felt like an invasion of privacy, adding to the overall invasion already present. The recording painted Sandra as a sexual deviant, merely a bisexual woman ready to prey on Zoë. The avocat general, or ‘the bald bastard’ as Leah later dubbed him, tore poor Zoë apart. She held her ground, but he exuded an accusatory nature that even Leah, seated among the gallery, felt.

By some stroke of luck, Vincent had arranged for a translator to feed a translation into an earpiece for Leah. This delayed her reactions, but she noticed Vincent checking on her every few minutes. When Vincent spoke without any objection thrown out, Leah was taken aback. That kind of behavior wouldn’t be tolerated in America, she thought.

“That’s beside the point,” the translator's voice came in Leah’s ear, half a second after Vincent's words, “and sexist.”

Leah felt her stomach drop in the best way as she looked at him. A reality dawned on her—one she had ignored for long over a week, only showing itself in random bouts of nausea and aversion to her longtime perfume—that she was carrying his child. The realization nearly drove her crazy as she watched him lean against the banister, witnessing the same awkward interview she had seen with Daniel unfold in court. The Présidente du tribunal interrogated Daniel, questioning his change of heart regarding the gaffer tape, and Vincent was quick to mention a psychiatrist's observation of shock as a possible reason for his altered memories.

Sandra watched like a hawk as her son was interrogated, and Leah sensed her strong desire to shield him, to envelop him in grace, even from her spot in the vacant spectator’s section. She was permitted to stay there because she was privy to the case's confidential details—a fact that even surprised her. Vincent swiftly intervened, coming to the boy's defense and engaging in a heated argument with the avocat.

From then on, everything blurred. The splatter analyst presented their testimony, offering a hypothesis that faced multiple challenges. The reenactment of the incident, the whole shebang, unfolded before the entire court.

The switch to English at Sandra's request was a welcomed relief for Leah. The speculation about Samuel's suicide attempt and his argument with the therapist felt all too familiar to her. A woman being blamed and scorned for a man's failings— a tale as old as time. Vincent intervened, arguing that the burden was shared by both Samuel and Sandra. However, Leah couldn't focus on his words. All she could see were his eyes, his emotions, the way he expressed himself, his beautiful and unique features.

After court adjourned, Leah joined Sandra and Vincent in the main lobby. The trio walked out together in silence, each grappling with the intensity of the morning. When Vincent suggested driving Sandra home, Leah declined the offer to join, deciding to walk the short distance to Vincent’s apartment to clear her head, feeling too exhausted and overwhelmed by the emotional dynamics at play. In the ensuing hours, she found herself entwined both emotionally and physically in Vincent's bed sheets, until sleep mercifully claimed her.

_________________________________________

In the quiet hours of the morning, Vincent slipped into bed, wrapping his arms around her, drawing comfort from her warmth. She sighed softly from his embrace as he molded himself around her form.

"What did you guys talk about tonight?" her sleepy voice inquired, though her mind had conjured numerous scenarios before she drifted off.

"We talked," Vincent whispered by her ear, "about life, about you, about everything."

"Mhm," Leah mumbled drowsily, "I wanted to punch that bald prosecutor in the throat."

"We didn't discuss the case," Vincent said, planting a kiss on her shoulder blade.

"You talked about me," Leah rolled over, opening her eyes. "Gossipers."

Vincent smiled, his eyes crinkling. "No gossip. I reserve that for my mother."

"You're not being honest," Leah stated matter-of-factly. "You didn't hear her call me a black cat weeks ago, yet you use the same term now. That's not a coincidence. You're a gossip."

"No," he shook his head. "The night you accused me of being with her, I was trying to understand why I feel the way I do about you. I was hoping she would have some advice to make sense of all this.”

"And?" Leah inquired. "What did you conclude?"

"Witchcraft," Vincent chuckled, making Leah laugh. "We didn't reach a conclusion. I just came back to you, and it all fell into place."

"And then you returned home," Vincent began, his words measured, "and you're closed off.”

"This isn't my home, Vincent," Leah corrected him, observing the sadness in his eyes.

"But it could be," he suggested. "You're here, in my bed, in my thoughts, in my heart."

"It's not that easy," Leah replied. "Let's get some rest, okay?"

Vincent's tired eyes silently agreed as she turned away, shutting her eyes tightly to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

_________________________________________

Seated in the gallery, Leah pressed her palms firmly under her thighs, a wave of sickness washing over her. The sound of Samuel's voice, engaged in a heated argument with Sandra, stirred a deep-seated rage within Leah, aimed at her manipulative and despicable father. The echoes of the fights from her childhood amplified her anger, intensifying it twofold. Glancing at Vincent, his arms crossed and gaze fixed ahead, Leah finally understood why he had kept the file from her until now. The conversation, particularly about language and speaking English as a middle ground, painted a picture of confusion and struggles for their potential future children, such as the one Leah secretly carried, under the shadow of their distinctly American mother.

Resentment. Manipulation.

Those were the only words Leah registered.

The realization terrified her, sending shivers down her spine. As she and Vincent locked eyes, she sensed that he comprehended the turmoil swirling in her mind. With a trembling hand, she reached to her right and clasped Daniel's hand, feeling his tremors mirroring her own. From that moment on, Leah tuned out everything else, focusing solely on the boy beside her, a reflection of her own struggles and fears.

_______________________________________

In the days that followed, social media buzzed with chatter about Sandra, while Leah and Vincent lingered in Paris, Sandra and Daniel retreated to their chalet.

As the court session resumed two days later, Daniel's testimony was set to unfold in an empty gallery, and Leah opted to wait outside the chamber, avoiding the potentially twisted details that Samuel Maleski might have implanted in the young boy's mind. While Sandra was far from perfect, Samuel's darker side seemed doubly sinister and oblivious. Sandra, on the other hand, acknowledged her imperfections as a mother, a woman, and a human being—a trait that Leah found admirable.

As the chamber doors finally swung open, Vincent's reassuring smile conveyed all Leah needed to know. They hailed a car and squeezed in, with Sandra phoning to check on Daniel, who graciously approved of her belated dinner at a nearby Chinese restaurant. In the back seat, Vincent kept a watchful eye on Leah, who observed their surroundings as the car navigated the streets, eventually arriving at the restaurant.

“That’s the first fucking time in our life we win!” Vincent proclaimed amidst laughter at the table, responding to Sandra's inquiry about their celebratory customs. A waitress arrived with more sushi and a round of sake, which Leah politely declined, opting for a simple bowl of rice and water.

When Leah's phone rang, she excused herself and stepped outside, where she found Nour and a few other colleagues enjoying a smoke break.

"Evan proposed," Kate's voice crackled through the earpiece.

"Congratulations... I think?" Leah chuckled.

"I turned him down, as I always do," Kate replied matter-of-factly.

"Maybe next time," Leah teased.

However, as she glanced back through the window, her stomach churned at the scene unfolding inside—Vincent's hand lightly tracing Sandra's cheekbone, drawing her close into his embrace, where he ran his fingers through her hair. Sandra reciprocated, tenderly touching his face as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Leah abruptly ended the call with Kate and stood frozen, her gaze fixed through the glass. Catching Vincent's eye, he swiftly rose from his seat, Leah’s strides purposeful and swift as she made her way down the uneven sidewalk, tapping away on her phone to order an Uber. With the car mere moments away, she breathed a sigh of relief. Eventually, Vincent caught up to her just as she was about to step into the waiting car.

"Leah—," he began, but she cut him off with a dismissive hand gesture.

"Don't. You can fucking have her," she retorted sharply.

Slamming the car door shut, she drove off without a backward glance.

Taglist:

@weakling-grace

@bibistatic

[pabl0andm3]

Our dinner | Part one

Warning: *incorrect grammar sorry I'm still learning English btw*

{This is my first ever Story I wrote ✍️. And believe me or not It's kinda cringe Lmao. I write for fun though so if you don't like it, feel free to scroll 💮🦢🌺}

So this is love felt like? An aroma of trauma a touch of comfort and a sprinkle with tears? The girl said to her self while sobbing on the hoodie she wore. when she felt like her breath fell like a cigarette that going to d!e and that's when she felt her eyes closed...........

I walk to the kitchen to found my Boyfriend cooking some breakfast .I walked up to him and give him a peck as a good morning and he hug me and said "Morning Amor" in his morning voice clearly he is tired but still manage to get us breakfast.. once he's done making breakfast i set the plates so that we can start eating.

While I took a bite on my food I saw Pablo staring at me. " What you staring babe" I said in a pink blushy cheeks. "Can't I started at my pretty girl" he said coming closer to you as you fell him hugging you in the back while he leaves wet kisses on you neck. You humm in satisfied. " Stop bèbè your going to make me late at my work" you said chuckling at his sudden behavior.

He finally stop. And you both get ready and after that he drop you to your work and you got to your office to start the day.

Months past your relationship with pablo is not going good you both argue at the smallest thing. For example he forgot to pick you up and you get upset but your upset turn to anger and that's when you both couldn't stand each other anymore you often only talk when one of you need something or ask something.

Some of your friends and family notice this and said that both of us should commutate property but it only turns into yelling. That's when you start to realize that you both need to fix your relationship but Pablo is to stubborn and always find a way to defend himself while you in the other hand trying to fix it. You want to ask him about this really cute Restaurant that's near the beach and he knows you love the beach the most.

You scroll to your phone and Wondering if you should ask Pablo about it since it's been a while you guys go out together. The door open reveling Pablo in his training kit. You got up and hug him and you said " hello" he only reply with "Mhmm" and got upstairs to get change. After a while he finally came back but his outfit is giving " going out" look and you stand up ask him where he go and he said "At pedri's house" he said fixing his hair in the mirror

"oh I was uhm.. thinking maybe we could go out since it's been a while and uhmm.. I found this really cute Restaurant near at the beach and-" before you could finish he cut you off my saying "sorry but I think next time" he said hugging you and left.

Those words keep you head for the past moths

Next time, next time , next time

The words you only hear when you try to convince him to go out. You were upset and sad the whole month thinking maybe Pablo doesn't love you anymore and that's when you have the urge to ask him but you stop when you change your mind that maybe this is the right time you will ask him to go out with you.

He Finally comeback after an hour he go to the bedroom where you are scrolling to your Instagram seeing some couple going out. You sigh and turn and saw Pablo Walking to wards you and take the remote to watch a movie. You finally have the urge to speak " uhm Pablo I..a found this another cute and cozy restaurant just a few walks by and I'm think maybe this is the right time?" You ask not looking at him. He sighed in annoyed how you always ask him about it.

"well I already told you that I'm not in the mood and that you-" he got cut by saying him

" But you always say Next time,next time and. Those words aren't even true anymore. How many Seconds, minutes, hours, days, week, months should I wait for you to say yes. You only spent time with your friends when you can't even hug or kissed you girlfriend that's so unfair Pablo!" You shout back felling that the anger that you carry finally relief. After you said that he's blood boil and Turn off the tv and turn to you and said " OH WOW NOW IT'S MY FAULT THAT I DON'T SPENT TIME WITH YOU!? WHILE YOUR HERE TRYING TO GET MY ATTENTION NOT KNOWING WELL I'M TIRED OFF YOUR BULLSH!T AND IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT YOUR ANNOYING, SELFFISH AND DRAMATIC B!TCH YOU ARE. AND NOW YOUR SAYING IT'S MY FAULT" he said shouting at you .

You couldn't believe what got into him saying stuff like that especially the word " annoying, selfish, dramatic b!tch" you want to cry so hard but You don't want him to show you how week you are so instead you walk out and go downstairs and Lay to the Coach while tears form in your eyes. You fall asleep with an arching heart.

You woke up by the sun hitting your face and you get back and go to the bathroom and clean your self as you look into the mirror only to find red puff eyes and dry tears. Once you finally step out to the spare bathroom you head up stairs to change. You sigh while opening the door only to find Pablo changing as well you didn't look at him not even a glance. You pick an outfit and go to the bathroom to change and brush your teeth when he start to walk towards you. You instally go out the bathroom and head downstairs to Get your shoes on and you are about to leave when Pablo appear out of nowhere and said

" Are you not going to eat" you respond with nothing. You can't Just pretend like nothing happened last night it's still hunt you. So instead you walk past him and start walking the street since you don't have a car yet and it must be crazy asking Pablo to drop you of knowing your goal was to ignore him and teach him a lesson. After a couple of minutes you finally arrived at your office to do some paperwork and While you take a break your phone rang and it appears Pablo's name

Mi bèbè 💘: Amor don't wait for me where going to the club.

You want to smack his head, yell at him why he's acting like nothing happened last night all you could do from now is to not respond. Finally focusing your work about an Hour You start packing your things and cleaning some papers. After that your finally ready to go home. You call an Uber since it's dark outside and your scare something happened.

You finally Came home and start getting ready to sleep since your tired asf and before you lay down to bed you scroll on Instagram and find a picture of Pablo with a Brunette girl that looks really Damn pretty and when you look closer His hand was in her wrist while the girls hand was on his bicep

You ignore it thinking it was his fan while little did you know what will happened in your relationship with Pablo...

{ I know it's boring but like I said it's my first time writing it. So please be nice and Probably I'll Make part 2 of this lmao. Sorry about my English and grammar! Not my first Language Plus I'm currently learning it ❤️}

Thanks for reading 💮