#some Sunday night babbling..

[tutuandscoot]

📍 ‘How Will I Know’. SOI Hamilton 2015

*Scott skates away from Tessa as part of the choreography and the camera stays on T who has a subtly heartbroken yet resigned to the inevitable look on her face*

*Once the dance has ended, Tessa’s expression changes to a stunning, elated smile as she slyly waits for Scott to return to her*.

*She nods as if she is responding to him saying “are you ok, are you alright my love? Please don’t be sad I promise I’ll never leave you again”. Her tiny little nod like when small children fall over or hurt themselves and you go to them willing them to be ok, but of course she is ok, because her favourite person in the world is about to wrap her up in his arms*

*Their embrace is indicative of two people who love each other so much and never want to be separated, yet as artists they had to experience and express devastating heartbreak. They love to feel that, they love to make others feel that, but they don’t like to feel that about each other. They must start this program and others like it by telling each other “I don’t feel this about you, I will never feel this about you. You know I love you, that is a fact that will never change, but let’s go out there experience all these emotions together because it’s such fun there’s no one I feel safer doing that with then you”. This internal struggle between their desire and love to perform emotions we all feel as human beings, and their overwhelming desire to ensure the other is always safe and happy*

*He returns to her like he’s promising her we never have to go through that again, I’ll never leave you like that again. “My darling Tess I just need to hold you in my arms”. Lifty cuddles are normally only reserved for exhilarating, highly emotional moments. This is not like a post competition celebration lifty cuddle but a “my angel I must feel your heart beating against mine once more” and once she is in his arms, she is home. So how deeply they must have been affected to return to each other like they don’t ever want to be apart again*.

[dr-felitas]

ANG BEER NA 'TO O ANG PAG-IBIG MO?

synopsis: taking care hsr men when they’re drunk ft. hsr men

pairing: aventurine, sunday, veritas ratio x reader (separate) | wc: 1.2k | content & warnings: fluff, mentions of alcohol and drinking/being under the influence , mentions of bathing together (veritas part) ; headcanon + drabble

tags: this is dedicated to my beloved filipino alcohol addict, who else if not @azullumi?? (istg one day you're gonna get an alcohol poisoning if you continue to drink) note to azul will follow at the very bottom as always <3

a/n: ang beer na 'to o ang pag-ibig mo? -> is it beer or your love? (im not even filipino but vietnamese..oh well..)

SUNDAY

talks a lot.

much different from his usual demeanor

really talkative 

he babbles, rambles and chatters your ears off

“did you know that me and robin used to take care of a charmony dove?” he asks.

“yes, yes i do. you’ve told me thrice in the past 30 minutes.” you sigh. 

“oh.” his mouth forms a small “o” before speaking up again. “well did you know that-”

“that you still have to make some preparations for the upcoming charmony festival?” you interrupt him and finish his sentence.

“how’d you know?” you can’t make out if it’s amazement or curiosity in his words. “well, a little birdie told me that not too long ago.” 

“my bird?” he asks. 

“..yeah, totally..” you hum.

AND really touchy which is unusual

sunday reaches forward to push the loose strands of your hair away from your forehead. “sunday what are you-” before you’re able to finish your question he presses his chapped lips against your forehead, placing a tender kiss on it. 

before going down and peppering kisses along your jawline until his lips reach your collarbone. “stop that tickles!” you giggle and try to push him away to no use - it was pointless. it was like he was glued to your side.

his bony fingers find your hand and laces them together before softly squeezing them, eyes never leaving your face as he studies your expression.

he keeps eulogizing and complimenting you

“have i ever told you how pretty you are?” he takes a small bundle of your hair into his hand, before slowly caressing it with his thumb and index finger as he awaits your response.

upon that you can’t help but smile. the corners of your lips quirk up and you grin like a teenager who spots their crush exiting the classroom after intentionally switching routes just to see them.

“you do, but not as openly and often.” you say in response he can only gasp in surprise. “really?” “really!” you laugh.

(he then proceeds to write a sticky note for his future sober self to compliment you more.)

only shuts up when you kiss him. 

you lean forward to press a chaste kiss on his lips, it’s a fleeting moment and the kiss doesn’t last as long as sunday wishes it would. it’s too short for his liking, granting him no chance to reciprocate the action. 

“shut up, loverboy. let’s get you back home.” you beam at him with a smile brighter than both the moon and stars. your eyes are pools of love, an intoxicating essence sunday would gladly drown in. (not like he already hasn’t.) 

in return he shoots you a lovesick smile which makes you melt.

AVENTURINE

unusually quiet until you talk to him and he pours out his heart

this is weird.

normally aventurine is the talkative one among the two of you but it seems like the tables have turned. there’s nothing but the sound of the wind blowing through the night and you cringe at the silence. 

“‘rine are you okay?” you attempt to ask, hoping that he’d at least respond with a hum.

““you still like me, right?” he whispers. his answer was so quiet that you almost didn’t hear it but it did catch you off guard.

 “what?” you ask confusedly, almost in disbelief.

“what.” 

when you drape his arm over your shoulder to help him walk he’s slightly tripping and keeps apologizing 

unlike sunday who’s the one reassuring you, aventurine is the one who constantly seeks reassurance from you

and not even indirectly, yeah no, directly

“m’sorry that you have to take care of me. you can tell me if it’s bothersome.” he says in an apologetic tone and you try your best to reassure him. “no, really it’s alright!” you stop your movements to take a quick breather.

aventurines quick to react and extracts his arm from your shoulder and tries to stand steady on his two feet. (miserably failing) “am i too heavy? sorry.” he apologizes, not being able to stand still.

“not at all!” you smile. “i just had to take a quick break but let’s continue.” you reach out your hand for him to grab on and as soon as he places his palm on yours you hold on tightly. 

“also, aventurine, you don’t have to keep apologizing.” you say empathetically. 

“sorry.”

aventurine is someone who has only had himself for a very long time and he himself was the one who helped him overcome many obstacles in his life with no one else at his side so try to reassure him as much as possible to let him know that he’s not alone

VERITAS RATIO

the type who only gets drunk when it’s a party hosted by the company or anything regarding his researches to indulge in the fun and celebrate the process

later on only babbles about some of his discoveries 

the others eventually get tired but try to look interested, veritas, like the attentive person he is, notices and complains about how you’d listen

you’re leaving the bathroom and come back with 9 new messages from topaz and 7 ones from aventurine begging you to pick up veritas. 

as you enter the party you immediately spot him near the bar, crowded by some employees and topaz and aventurine who look like they’re done. 

you step over to the bar and greet the both of them. “hi, i’m here to pick up veritas.” you smile. “that sounds like you’re picking him from kindergarten.” topaz laughs. “but yeah he’s all yours now.” she says as she clinks her glass against aventurines, as if she were to celebrate a victory.

you move towards veritas and tap him on the shoulder, the action makes him turn around and raise an eyebrow in confusion. “sorry, what business do i have with you?” he asks at which you can only laugh at. “veri, i’m here to pick you up.” you smile.

“my partner wouldn’t like you addressing me with a nickname that they exclusively chose for me.” he says politely. “ah and could you please not hold onto my hand, i doubt that they’d like that either.”

“veritas, i am your partner.”

he's not the one who’s touchy he wants you to be touchy

trace shapes against his back, bury your head into the crook of his neck and leave kisses, ruffle his hair and so on (especially when taking a bath!!)

“so what shape was that?” you ask in excitement after you drew a tree onto his back with your wet fingers. 

“π” he responds. (it sounds more like a question than an answer from the way he responded.)

at that you can only laugh. “close, it was a tree!” you lean down and bury your head against his neck, his back now facing your chest as you smile down at his skin and smear kisses along the crook of his neck thus making your lips covered in shower gel now. 

you remove your mouth from his skin and start to massage his back slowly and tenderly, making his tense muscles relax before moving your hands to his head, ruffling through his hair and softly massaging his scalp before coming to a halt.

“why’d you stop?” his eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes and turns around to face you.

“ah, well you didn’t say anything so i thought you didn’t like it. so i stopped.” you answer apologetically. 

“did i tell you to stop?” he raises his eyebrow. “i suppose no..” you reply. 

“well then continue, please.”

he trusts you enough to bathe with him and especially when being drunk

knows that you won’t just leave him be and actually care for him and tend to his needs 

shower him with much affection and great care!!

okay tending to the most special guest now!! @azullumi ladies and gents, non binaries and the others whatever you identify yourself with, make way for user azullumi!! if you think your 4 month situationship who had a gf all along responds slowly TALK TO AZUL. HE NEVER RESPONDS TO MY TIKTOKS AND OMG EVEN WORSE I REPLY TO THE ONES HE SENDS ME AND THEY DON'T EVEN RESPOND TO MY MESSAGES BUT PROCEED TO SEND ME ANOTHER TIKTOK??? THE AUDACITY HELLO??? anyway i hope this reaches you in good spirits?? is that how you say that?!?!?! i like this song a lot i think the first time i've heard it was in a kaeya (genshin) edit LMFAO and it's been one of my fav songs ever since. beer, love and filipino put that in a pot and your receive azul. but azul azul i love love love you a lot. it's always fun talking to you and sharing my ideas. knowing that i have you by my side is always so reassuring for me to know. someone who's proud of me and my achievements, someone who's willing to listen me out, someone who actually has great advice which is helpful. thank you, thank you. i'm so blessed to have you. you're probably the best thing that has happened to me in the past few months. (and that one A- i got from my strict history teacher 😍😍)

e/n: not toooooo sure how to feel about this cause i wrote this for funsies but yeah! also rbs (with comments) are as always greatly appreciated. (i read through each of them). kisses to yall!!

© DR-FELITAS 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[izurou]

every morning, and often throughout the night, you’ll stretch a foot over to satoru’s side of the bed and make contact with him.

what comes across as a simple desire for physical touch, is actually a habit of yours—one born from both fear and experience. it’d be far from the first time you woke up and he wasn’t there, but things are different now, and you need him to be there.

but this morning, all you feel is cold sheets.

you sit up and rub at your eyes before looking out the window—finding your usual view blurred with rain. you shiver a little at the sight, or maybe—at the foreign emptiness of the room.

and that’s when you realize that, not only is satoru missing from your bed—the small white crib off to your right is also missing your daughter.

you think the worst on instinct. irrational, you’re well aware—there’s no reason for such thoughts anymore, but they still manage to penetrate your freshly conscious mind nonetheless.

that is, until a pair of giggles sneak past the little crack in your bedroom door, acting as the perfect antidote to your conclusion jumping.

now, you find yourself getting out of bed just a bit too eagerly for a gloomy sunday morning—sliding into your slippers before shuffling towards the door and down the hallway. you wrap your arms around yourself as you walk, both hoping for and needing a little extra love from at least one, but preferably both of your babies.

satoru’s voice becomes clearer as you near, and you’re just around the corner when you hear him ask your daughter, who can’t talk yet, a question.

“yeah? you like the rain?”

an odd thing to ask a seven month old, though it makes a little more sense when you actually see them.

the two are in the kitchen, and your daughter—strapped into her high chair, is staring out the large window with her big blue eyes, completely mesmerized. satoru sits hunched over in a dining room chair, watching her with the exact same expression while he holds a plastic green spoon up to her mouth, like he’s interviewing her.

“satoru?” in unison, the duo turn their heads at the sound of your voice. “what are you doing?”

“killing time,” he smiles at you before turning to your baby, who now has her chubby little hands wrapped around a couple of his fingers. “we were starting to think you’d never come to. isn’t that right sweetheart?”

she babbles excitedly in response, seemingly agreeing.

the transition from bassinet to crib hasn’t been an easy one, and last night was probably one of her worst so far. you’ll always rock her, and while she falls asleep easy enough—the second she’s put down, she’ll wake up and cry.

“sorry,” you sigh, padding over to the two. “she was up most of the night, i—”

“needed the rest,” he finishes for you—wiggling his fingers around and earning himself a few more precious baby giggles. “we know.”

you give him a smile, and he returns it in a much more devious fashion—as if he’s saying you owe me for this. on any other day, you’d roll your eyes at something like that, but it’s almost nine am, and you crawled out of bed just moments ago—there isn’t much you wouldn’t do for him at this point.

satoru wraps an arm around one of your thighs as you stand next to him, and he pockets your grin—knowing it holds all the gratitude in the world, and a little something more.

though, you just end up batting him away when you notice the empty bowl sitting on the tray of your daughter’s high chair.

“she ate all her breakfast?” you ask, peering over to see if he hid any of her yogurt in the pouch of her silicone bib. “why don’t you ever do that for me?”

you lean down to boop a finger on her nose, and she kicks her feet in excitement—letting out something between a squeal and a laugh.

“‘cause you like me better, right?” satoru chimes in, holding his makeshift microphone in front of her with a toothy grin—which gets her to babble, for some reason. “oh? what’s that? i’m the best? your favourite?”

you bring a hand up to flick the back of his head—even though sometimes you think he’s right with the way she’s always smiling at him, but you just chalk it up to his high contrast, baby friendly look instead.

“think you misheard,” you point out, “sounded like ew dad, you stink to me.”

your husband—dramatic, and a sucker for your baby girl, flops down onto her little plastic tray in defeat.

“say it’s not true,” he whines, sneakily tickling one of her feet to get her to laugh but, consequently causing her to smack her hands on his head. “hey, hey!”

“that’s my girl,” you snort, and she babbles some more—loving the attention she’s getting from the two of you.

“hmm?” satoru leans in closer to her, as if she’s about to tell him a secret, and then he shields his mouth with his hand to respond. “yeah i know, i think that smell’s coming from over there too.”

the two smile at each other, and while it might be at your expense, you find yourself smiling too.

because you can see it now—satoru picking your daughter up from her first day of kindergarten, begging for the scoop on all her new classmates. he’d listen attentively, and pry just a little further every time she mentions a more masculine name—selfishly wanting to ensure that he’s still her favourite boy.

it’s just a thought of course, but you’ll definitely be holding him a little closer tonight.

“look, she’s doing it!” satoru pulls you back to the present moment, nudging your leg with his elbow. he’s given your baby her little silicone cup—the one she’s learning to drink from. she has it tilted back, spilling milk half into her mouth, and half into her bib. “kind of.”

once she’s quenched her thirst, she haphazardly tosses the cup onto her tray, and you note the white residue that sits on her top lip.

“well, satoru?” you grin at him, grabbing the long forgotten plastic green spoon—microphone, and holding it up to your husband’s mouth.

he furrows his brows and opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“how does it feel knowing your daughter has more of a stache right now than you ever will?”

he grins, at you and then her. “that’s my girl.”

[mimisplayground]

Sunday was an awful, awful angel. He was cruel, uncaring, and he had a stupid smile on his face all the time. Like he thought he was better. Like he KNEW he was better.

And watching the people around you begin to whisper awful things about you. About how Sunday had told them you were a wicked, mean person. You couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling of despair. How were you meant to face this? He was a public figure, one of absolute authority and power that you could never hope to speak against.

So you go to him with tears in your eyes, asking how you could have ever possibly made him view you as so awful and wicked. “You’re undignified, unruly, quite honestly a bit airy in the head, and mouthy. Is that enough reason?” He smiles at you the entire time, tilting his head at the end of the question while watching fat tears roll down your cheeks.

“How do I… fix that…” you mutter through hiccups and sniffles, almost crying more when he coos at you and gives you a hug. Petting your hair as you went to full blown sobs. “It’s ok, just listen to what I tell you to do. I’ll always guide you properly. It’s not your fault you’re so stupid.”

He had sent you on your way, and the rumors and awfulness of those around you only got worse. You went from lazy to attention whore in their eyes. Clinging to Sunday and every word he speaks like gospel. Without so much as an approving glance your way.

You would cry awfully, not able to talk to those around you and not wanting to confront the man who had deemed you as a vile person again.

And you grew angry, though with that the talk got nastier. How awful you were. Being called for an audience with Sunday only for him to berate you for twenty minutes until you were a sniveling mess again was just awful.

In fact, the talk only seemed to vanish when you clung impossibly close to the man. In his quarters everyday, bringing him teas and snacks and not bothering to pay attention to the others.

It was easier that way. When you paid attention to the others you always found them saying awful things about you. When you were with Sunday it was like none of those rumors existed. And so you were like a personal assistant, telling people when he wanted an audience with them, bringing him foods and drinks, organizing things for him, anything he asked.

It wasnt hard to fall into the routine either. He was such a kind guy, he only ever told you when you did something wrong afterall. Your posture, your manners, your tone, what you were wearing, things like that. And you would always change it to fit how he said you were best. Because clearly he knew best.

He was handsome too, easy to look at. So of course it wasn’t long until you fell into his bed.

Sunday was a selfish lover. He would make sure you finished of course. But everything he did was with his own entertainment at mind.

Leaving you overstimulated and limp by the end of most nights. But he kissed you so sweetly afterwards, wiping you down and cuddling up to you. The next morning you would be pawing at him again, begging for more once again.

You were selfish in your own ways too. Sunday never seemed to mind when you were sat next to him, gripping his arm and glaring at whoever had come around to talk to him. How you would refuse to talk to them and bury yourself further into the man as he would laugh and apologize for your behavior with a dismissive attitude.

You don’t even really know when you began living with him.

Somewhere between his hand stuffing your face into some pillows as he calls you a mangy stupid mutt and the times where he thrusts into you slow and sensual while saying it was fine that you were stupid, because you were his.

Because you are his. No one else could ever fuck you the way he does. With a calm smile and a feral look in his eyes, pounding into you and rubbing your nipples. Sucking your neck and biting his claim all over you. And you babble insistently about how amazing he is. How perfect he is, how much you adore him as you pet his hair back and out of his face while he pounds you into a mating press.

He calls you a stupid little doll. A pretty pet. A cute accessory. Leaves you fucked out and drooling and laughs, making a comment about how he didn’t know you could get any dumber.

But it’s ok that you’re dumb. Because you’re his.

Forever and always.

——————

AN ACTUAL FULL FLESHED FIC??? FROM ME??? WOAH….

also hes TOXIC pls do NOT idolize him… anyways hes my idol :3 hope you all enjoyed lemme know what u want nexf!!

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

OKAY LISTEN.. HEAR ME OUT.....

we've talked about lucifer with a virgin s/o. hot. but have we ever considered lucifer corruption/religious kink as well. s/o who stayed a virgin for religious reasons. now being ruined by lucifer.

idk about anyone else but my religious kink goes CRAZY for lucifer. just. lucifer with an s/o who was so devoutly christian during their life and yet still ends up in hell, with the devil himself, worshipping him instead, completely ruined on his cock. i think it'd stroke his ego a little bit that he's brought you this low. taking you away from Heaven all for himself, personally guaranteeing you never see those gates again. sleeping with the devil is not something that can be undone.

i wonder if they can hear you up there, screaming out the devil's name.

I...Yes...JUST YES! As someone who comes from a Christian background...OH BOY

Oh, you were such a pure soul when you were alive, weren't you? You always went to church on Sundays with your family, prayed before every meal and before you went to bed, read your Bible that was on your nightstand. The perfect Christian woman, some might say.

So how was is that you ended up in Hell, now being fucked senseless by the devil himself?

Lucifer was nothing like what you were told in church. He was soft, caring, and a little bit silly. The one thing that held true though was that he absolutely beautiful. You understood why he was so hard to resist. Temptation incarnate, indeed. It didn't take long for you to succumb to your temptations either, and Lucifer was more that happy to satiate them. His cock filled you up completely as he pounded into you for God knows how many times that night. You were a babbling mess, absolutely cock drunk as he rutted deeper and deeper into you. You didn't understand why you didn't make the cut into heaven, but now you couldn't care less. Who needed eternal salvation when you had the devil himself.

"You look so pretty like this, darling," Lucifer whispered against your ear, "taking my cock so well. Were you really as devout as you said you were? Could have fooled me, my little angel." Lucifer's hips refused to slow down as he chased his high, and bringing you ever closer to another mind shattering orgasm.

"L-Lucifer! I-I AHHFUCK!" you screamed, your walls pulsating around his length, coating him in your jucies.

Lucifer chuckled darkly. "I wonder if they can hear you up there, screaming out the devil's name," he teased before emptying himself inside of you once more.

[undercoverpena]

voicemails

frankie morales x f!reader

do we drabble on sundays? is this what we do? well, anyway, here’s some soft sunday fluff. no warnings: except fluff and sweetness and lovely softness. dedicated to @msjarvis who didn't ask for this but I’m giving anyway.

JUST THINKING ABOUT HOW THE TWO OF YOU BEGIN LEAVING VOICE NOTES FOR ONE ANOTHER. It started one time when life took one of you away from the other—the bed you share and the walls you laugh inside of are lonely without the pair of you together. Because it all feels vaster, quieter.

Then it became a thing. A make-do measure, a thing both of you grew to need first thing in the morning and last thing at night. A habit. A tradition. The day not beginning or ending without it.

It quickly becomes a comfort, a thing that brings the both of you joy, happiness—in the same way the scent of your shampoo does for him and how when he’s alone he leans closer to your pillow because it lingers and he consumes as much of it as he can to trick himself he’s not lay in bed alone.

Your voice in the morning makes up for the fact your mug isn’t left on the side or in the sink, all used. Because he hates it when he wakes and finds it in the cupboard, where he put it last night, it rumbling through him and making his chest clench.

There’s a list of things he misses when you’re not home, and if he begins, he isn’t sure he’ll ever stop.

Frankie supposes you’ll have your own list. An itinerary of things you miss about him when he’s out of town. Sometimes you share them, let them slip out and mumble them down the phone when you’re pacing, unsure what to do when he’s not home. It makes his heart squeeze in his chest, all tight, especially when he hears you doing mundane things he usually gets to watch you do, like cook or make a drink.

It’s why he likes the voice notes. Likes being a part of your day even if he’s not there. Has the chance to listen to them on his drive or when he’s brushing his teeth—pretending, even in hotel rooms—that you’re closer than you are. Staring at your contact photo as you say those three words, I miss you.

The voice notes range in topic. Sometimes they’re about your day, about the fucker you work with that he’d love to break the nose off; sometimes they’re a ramble about your breakfast, interspersed with a minor rant about something. Odd times they’re about dinner, hearing you move things in the refrigerator before you confess you’ll order and leave him leftovers.

He has his favourites, a handful of ones he’ll listen to on days where he needs more sunshine. One is the day you tripped, again, over his toolbox. An odd choice, he knows. It beginning all high-pitched, voice tinged in venom and anger:

“Francisco Morales, if you leave your toolbox in the hallway one more time—“

Then it was doused in sweetness, absolute honey, and it wasa exhilarating to fucking listen to.

“—Oh, you washed up. Oh, baby. Well, shit—Frankie, I love you okay? Just put your damn tools away.”

But the one he has saved is one where you’ve tired, exhausted—brain having kept you awake and every noise in the house doing something to make the shadows seem more dangerous than they were. You’re babbling, eyes likely closed, voice just reeling off the things your brain is thinking—no filter, no barrier between thought and tongue.

“—and baby, even though I’ve been sleeping in your clothes, I miss you. ‘Cause you make me happy—so happy, you know that? You have to. Tell you a lot. The bed does feel super weird without you. It’s really cold, and big—like too big. I turned the thermostat up, I know, I know, I’ll turn it down. Oh, and baby, I saw sprinkles moonwalk again on the fence. I did try to record it—but, you know me, I’m clumsy, chipped my phone. Don’t be mad. Please. I know you won’t cause you’re good, kind, nice—god you makemehappy. So tired. Justwanttosleep, you know?—“

He remembers driving back through the night the following day—slipping in, quiet as a mouse. Old training came in handy as he slid out of his boots and cautiously placed his keys.

Frankie managed to miss the floorboard he needs to fix, the one that usually gives him away—and even remembered to not use the light in the bathroom. His last test had been the bed, somehow managing to get in with precision, even roll you closer without waking you.

It’s worth it, all the time away—the voice notes in between—for the life he’s able to build with you and the look he wakes to in the morning.

A thing he thinks each time.

Because you look at him like he solved every problem wrong in your world; you look at him like he makes the impossible, possible.

And, after all he’s been through, he’d been sure that ship had more than sailed. That his chance had gone, faded, slipped through his fingers like water or dust.

But here you are. Your voice filling his ear in real time, whispering a good morning, if he had a safe drive—and he’s full of gratitude all over again. As he is every time he gets to hear your voice—in person or through the phone.

an: sometimes, voice notes are just the best, right? I also love voice mails, and all voice related things.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {13}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando is still struggling with his anxiety and it seems to only grows with time as he tried to balance work and parenting. Warnings: 18+ only, hurt/comfort, mentions of dad!PND WC: 3.4K

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

“I thought this was supposed to get easier,” Lando grumbled as you sat in bed, your laptop screen filled with his image. The bright late afternoon sun was streaming through the window in your room but it was night where Lando was in Miami. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. I can’t concentrate on the race because I’m thinking about you two, and I can’t be at home because of the race…I hate this.”

 “I don’t know if it's easier, but I guess it will become a new normal in time. We’ll be with you at the next three races, just have to make it through this one.”

“I need this two week break to hurry up and arrive. I just need to be able to go to put Ren to bed and tuck her in,” startled cries sounded from the cot across the room as Renleigh woke from her nap, “and I need to be there to pick her up when she cries. I think I’m going out of my mind.”

The catch in his voice broke your heart and you grabbed your phone off the bedside so you could message Max. “You don’t know how much I wish I could take away the hurt you’re feeling, Lan. I don’t want you to be alone so Max is getting on the first flight he can. And before you argue, he is happy to do it. We are both worried about you, babe.”

“No offence, love, but I don’t need Max, I need my family.” He dropped his chin onto his hand with a sigh. 

“I’m just a phone call away, day or night. But if you want snuggles, Max will have to do for a few more nights.” 

You left the laptop for a moment so you could reach into the cot and bring Ren over to see her daddy, waving her little hand to the camera. A smile finally graced his lips as he waved back and leaned closer to the screen to kiss his camera. 

Placing her on the bed, you both watched her try to crawl towards Lando. “That’s it, my girl,” he praised as she rocked forward before face planting into the soft blankets. “Getting there, you’ll be racing around in no time.”

“Speaking of racing, you should be getting ready for bed,” you reminded him gently. “Max will be there in the morning to keep you company and you know you can talk to him about anything.”

“You make it sound like I need counselling,” he joked but it fell flat when you shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, it’s just…your job is already so stressful, then the addition of a baby…it’s a big change and it’s alright to admit that. Dads can get PND too.” 

“Really?” His brows pinched together as he fell silent. 

“Even if you are fine, I think talking to someone else might still help. Remember when you got me to go to counselling? You said it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of and it isn’t.”

He didn’t look convinced as he muttered, “yeah, maybe.”

“Just think about it,” you suggested as he started to yawn. “And get some rest, babe. I love you.”

You felt like you had come out of hibernation as you sat beside Lando, your fingers entwined as he drove to Imola. Since giving birth you had hardly travelled anywhere, opting to keep Renleigh’s arrival private, so everyone close enough to know about her came to your house to visit her. That would all change on Sunday and to say you were nervous was the mother of all understatements.

Your stomach was tied up in knots just thinking about trying to navigate the busy paddock with your precious baby. Lando had already organised plenty of security to escort you everywhere but your overthinking and paranoia whispered that there were still so many things that could go wrong. It lingered even when you tried to focus on the here and now.

The radio played quietly in the background but it was Ren that you listened to, her babbling in response to Lando’s chattering keeping you both entertained and distracted. You turned in the seat to see her smile in the small mirror and her papaya socks kicking in the air.

“Someone is excited to make her debut,” Lando said with a chuckle. He gripped the wheel with one hand and the other came to rest on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. There had hardly been a moment where he wasn’t holding some part of you since his return, needing the comfort of your touch to ground himself and suppress his growing anxiety. 

This was the most relaxed he had been in months and you smiled back at him, grateful that your husband was returning to his old self. 

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked with a nervous laugh between glances as he drove.

“Do you ever just stop and think ‘I have never been happier than I am at this moment’?” you asked as you traced the beauty spots that dotted his arm like a constellation of stars that would always lead you home. “It’s almost painful how happy I am right now, like my heart is going to burst right out of my chest.”

“Please don’t,” he chuckled, reaching up to stroke your cheek before concentrating back on the road. “That was me this morning, well, every morning I wake up beside you. Seeing the sunlight catch your hair, the peace on your face when you bury it in my neck and snore.”

Ren’s arms startled into the air at the sudden laugh you barked and Lando’s grin grew at the sound of pure, unfiltered joy. “That was almost romantic! You were so close to a blowjob, until you lied.”

“You do snore, and it’s cute!” he stated seriously before casting you a sly smile. “So about that blowjob…”

You leaned over the console and kissed the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the curve to his ear. “Tell me I snore one more time.” He clamped his lips closed and you smirked as you sat back in the seat. “Smart man.”

Lando put the car in park and turned the engine off but made no move to open the door as he sat quietly with his hands still on the wheel. His qualifying had gone great the day before and he was starting the race in P3 but the race was far from his mind as he looked at the high fence ahead, knowing the circuit was just on the other side.

“What if we are doing the wrong thing?”

“Lan, we can’t keep her bubble wrapped for the rest of her life. And we are going to make mistakes, that’s just a fact, but there’s only one way to find out.” You looked out the window and saw a group of men wearing McLaren shirts that showed off their large muscles. “Your papaya army has arrived, and they bought the big guns too.”

Lando snorted and relaxed a little, though the wariness never left his eyes as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stole a kiss. “Thank you.”

Lando’s fingers tightened around yours and he placed his other hand protectively over Renleigh’s back. He had debated putting her into the stroller that remained folded up in the car boot but the need to keep her close made him strap the front pack to his chest. Every few steps his head would dip down and he would place a tender kiss to the top of her head, whispering soothing words that were more for himself than her.

“What’s the weather forecast?” you asked as you tipped your head back to the skies and wondered if you had imagined the kiss of raindrop on your skin. 

“Chance of rain, but it should only be light.” He took a look around himself and narrowed his eyes at the grey clouds on the horizon before picking up the pace a little. His quick walk stalled when he reached the paddock gates and patted his pockets for his pass to scan and swore under his breath. 

“Looking for this?” you teased as you pulled his pass out of your pocket along with yours. 

“Have I told you how much I missed having you here?” he said as he took his pass and scanned it, his photo popping up on the little screen before he stepped through the barrier. 

“You may have mentioned it once or twice. Is Maria here already?”

Lando nodded, mentioning he had messaged her earlier and she had already arrived at the track with Zak. 

“Maybe grand-mere can look after you for a little while,” you whispered as you tickled Ren’s feet through her socks. “Then mummy and daddy can sneak off to his room for a few minutes.”

 “Minutes?” Lando scoffed at the insult and you grinned knowing his competitive side was coming out despite the fact the man’s stamina was far longer.

“If you want to prove me wrong…”

“I’ve done that multiple times a day, for the last two weeks, love,” he smirked as he whispered in your ear as you walked along. “But if your memory is that bad, I’m sure I can remind you.”

Your reply was lost as a huge swell of people came into view through the gaps in the wall of muscle ahead, the chaotic screams suddenly piercing the air as Lando was spotted by the crowd. Your mouth was still parted in shock but the sound of a shaky breath didn’t come from your lips. 

“Can we get to the garage, please?” you asked the head of security and he nodded, just as eager to make it through the mass of people. 

As effortless as Lando made it seem, he was never truly comfortable in large crowds and the birth of his daughter had only increased his social anxiety. You could feel it now as his palm heated against yours, his skin clammy and grip tightening to an almost painful hold. He was using you to anchor himself and fight back the panic so you bit the inside of your cheek and let him crush your hand.

“Almost there, baby,” you soothed as the men moved to the shape of an arrow that speared the crowd apart. 

Cameras flashed and fans screamed as they spotted the baby tucked into Lando’s chest, just the brown tufts of her curls visible. Those too were hidden as Lando cupped the back of her head and hummed a sweet lullaby to distract himself from the questions thrown his way. There was no way he could bring himself to stop and answer any of them until Ren was safely in the McLaren area, he couldn’t risk her safety among the strangers. It was only when he caught sight of the grey and orange coloured motorhome that he could muster up the courage to slip his hand away from yours and offer a small wave. 

The fear and reservations you had held never had time to surface while you focused on Lando but when you passed the doors and the outside world was silenced you finally breathed a sigh of relief. “We did it, Lan.”

“I don’t like this,” he admitted as he continued to his driver room. A bassinet was already set up with McLaren blankets and it made his lips twitch into an almost smile as you helped him to take Ren out of the front pack. “I can’t believe she slept through all that.”

He placed her into the bassinet and tucked her in while you wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder. You knew it wouldn’t be long until she woke up for a feed as a heaviness ached in your breasts so you had to make the most of the quiet moments while you could, dragging Lando to the couch and forcing him to sit down. 

“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?” you asked as you combed your fingers through his hair and tugged the stands so he looked at you. “Talk to me.”

“I thought having you both here would be easier, but I still feel sick,” he admitted after a minute of drawn out silence. “I need you here, don’t get me wrong, I hated being away from you but now I can't…I don’t even know how to explain it.”

You waited patiently for him to collate his thoughts, holding his hand while he watched Ren sleep peacefully. He longed for that peacefulness too.

“Infinite possibilities, it’s something Andrea gets us to think about when we race. One move can make a difference, one millimetre off the line could be the difference between the fastest lap or ending up in the gravel. Every action has an infinite amount of possibilities and it’s my job to figure out which is most likely to happen.” He took a deep breath from his quiet ramblings and exhaled a long sigh as he slowed down his words. “I can’t stop thinking about the infinite possibilities with Ren. Every bad thing that could happen, everything that could go wrong, I see it in my head. All. The. Time. I can’t stop.”

His words died out with a sob and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into your embrace as he fell apart. This was the moment you had been expecting, though it was still gut wrenching to witness. All the ups and downs this season had been leading to one cataclysmic peak where he had to release the pent up thoughts he had tried to suppress.

“Do you remember that day at Silverstone, the first time I came back to the paddock?” You knew he was listening by the way he held his breath to silence the sobs that jolted his shoulders. Rubbing his back softly, you kissed his temple and stared at the poster on the wall, seeing how much his face had matured in the last four years.

“When I sat in your room alone it was like time stood still. I had so much time to think that I imagined every horror scenario of you and your car and that fear made my stomach turn. I couldn’t eat anything all day,” you admitted as he pulled back with shimmering eyes and damp cheeks. “But the moment I saw you napping in the cockpit of your car I could finally think again. Not a single one of those scenarios came close to what was actually happening in that moment.”

You wiped his eyes and cupped his face in your hands. “It doesn’t matter that there’s endless possibilities for how the future might go, Lando. All that matters is this moment, and wasting time thinking about things that may never even happen only makes us miss out on today.”

“You aren’t scared we are making the wrong decisions?”

“Of course I’m scared, babe. But I know the man I married and I know that the decisions we make, whether they are right or wrong, come from a good place.” You placed a hand over his heart, feeling the bump under his shirt of the necklace he wore for Ren. “That’s the best any parent can hope for.”

His hand came to rest over yours for a moment before he lifted it to his lips and kissed your wedding ring. “I need to go but I’ll be back before the race starts.”

You nodded as he went to the small bathroom and washed his face, looking clear headed and calm once more. “Are you alright?” you asked as he started to undress and grab his fireproofs from the closet.

He pulled the skin tight material over his head and looked at your reflection in the mirror. “No, but I will be.”

The honesty was more relieving despite his words and you were glad he hadn’t just lied and said he was fine.

With a small smile, he leaned into the bassinet and kissed Ren’s cheek. “I love you, little lady, more than anything in this whole wide world.”

Five years after Imola had stolen your breath away, it had done it again. This time your voice was hoarse from the screams of support and happiness as Lando won the race.

It was as if all the tears ever shed at the circuit were released from the heavens to cascade upon the track with only three laps to go. Max and Charles had just passed the pit entrance before the deluge fell but Lando had made the split second decision to box and change to full wets. He had quickly caught up with the better grip and took the lead when they pitted on the next lap.

You hadn’t been able to move from where you stood rooted on the balcony in front of the home straight. Lando had always been able to dance in the rain, making his car sing in harmony to the beat of the drops on the blacktop. This was his element, but every turn gave you heart palpitations.

Yellow flags flew as some drivers tried their luck with their slicks, praying the rain would pass, only to spin out when they hit a puddle. One rookie aquaplaned off the track, leaving tire ruts in the grass, before rejoining the track and you gasped as Lando had to swerve to avoid him.

“We saw there was a close call on that final turn. How stressful was that?”

“It was scary, so scary. Knowing that my wife was watching just ahead, and seeing that car come right in front of me…my wife and my daughter, they were all I could think about. It’s so wet out there, turn too quick and there’s just no grip, nothing to keep me on the track. I was certain I was gone when that car came at me.”

Lando brushed his cap off and combed his hair as his lips pressed tight to hide the tremble. “It was so scary. You just have no idea what it’s like in those split seconds where you react on instinct and don’t know if you have just saved your life or forfeited it. It’s a risk, and I used to find it fun when I was younger but not now. I have too much to risk now.”

You cradled Ren closer as the McLaren team let you through to the front of the barrier. You hadn’t planned on stepping out of the motorhome but Lando was clearly not okay and you needed to get to him.

“It’s hard to be excited over winning when I thought I had just about made my wife a widow again, or that my daughter was going to grow up and not know me,” he said, answering another question that you had missed as you navigated your way out of the garage. “As much as I love this sport, and I am grateful for all the people who have helped me to get to where I am, I love my family more.”

He seemed to sense you in the crowd and Renleigh started to cry in your arms as you reached the barrier. The reporter followed him as he crossed the short distance and pressed his sweaty forehead to yours. “I’m going to be alright,” he whispered for only you to hear before he took Ren, who instantly settled on his shoulder, as the crowd ‘awww’d at the sight.

“I have been thinking hard about this for the last few months,” he continued as he gently bounced Ren back to sleep, “but this will be my last season in Formula One. I have always put 100% into what means the most to me and I haven’t been able to do that with racing taking me away from my family.”

The shock that rippled through the crowd and stunned the reporter into silence didn’t reach you. You had seen the look in his eyes when he parked in front of the 1st place signage and pulled his helmet off. He hadn’t thrown his hands in the air, he hadn’t waved to the crowd or his team. He had fallen to his knees and ripped his gloves off to feel the solid ground beneath his palms as the rain continued to fall.

The microphone shifted to you as you watched Lando hold Ren tighter and brush his lips over her dark curls. “It must have been harrowing to watch that last lap, especially since it wasn’t far from where you laid a wreath earlier today.”

“I trust every decision Lando makes. I knew he would make it through,” you said with a reassuring smile to your husband as you clutched the necklace that held your first wedding ring. “And every year when I visit I ask René to watch over him. Maybe he was listening all this time.”

Click here for the epilogue.

Tagging: @yunnie-f1 @neiich @zendayabelova @stillbreathin @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alwaysclassyeagle @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @lightsoutletsgo @pleasantducktimetravel @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @holy-macncheese-balls @belennasif @ophcelia @love4lando @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19

[seriouslysnape]

Morning Shift

Dad! Severus Snape x Mom! Fem! Reader x Baby Tags: Fluff. Sev being a good dad. Reader getting rest she deserves <3. Baby being a cutie. Word Count: 2.0k "I didn't mean to oversleep."

☾☾☾☾

☾☾☾☾

It was quite rare for you to have the chance to sleep in.

Even before the baby was born, you were pretty much up and going by dawn every day. It made you feel more productive to get up early and get the day started before the sun even had the chance to fully rise.

An occasional Saturday or Sunday would roll around where neither you nor Severus were in any rush to get up and moving. Those were during the slower weeks of the year, usually during the summer when Severus wasn't teaching and your work wasn't as demanding.

But after the baby was born, those occasional lazy weekend days had become pretty much obsolete. The mornings and nights had become less hectic as your newborn transitioned into an infant, and she was on somewhat of a sleeping schedule. However, when the baby was up, so were you.

Severus gave his fair share of helping out with the baby at all times of the day, but typically, Severus tended to her the most in the evenings. Severus usually fed her dinner, bathed her, and prepared her for her early bedtime.

It wasn't intentional really, but the two of you fell into a routine where you handled the mornings, the two of you rotated off during the day, and Severus handled the evenings/nights. Severus would help anytime when needed, but for the most part, that was the best arrangement.

On one particular weekend morning, however, the routine was different.

Severus awoke to a quiet house. There wasn't the sound of his wife stirring in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for him and the baby who would no doubt be babbling for her breakfast.

He felt a presence in the bed next to him, a gentle warmth coming from it as well. He was surprised to see you were still asleep, bundled up in the covers as comfortable as could be.

The warm glow of the newly risen sun beamed through the windows of the bedroom, spilling over your back that was facing the glass. He watched you only for a moment, pushing some stray hairs from your eyes and pulling the covers higher on you to keep you toasty.

It made his heart swell to see you getting some extra rest on your day off, and he made it his mission to let you sleep as long as possible. He was more than happy to be on baby duty that morning and a change of routine was a bit exciting.

The clock on his bedside table read 7:12 a.m. which did alarm him briefly. It was twelve minutes past the baby's usual wake up time, which meant either she was getting some extra sleep as well, or she was storming mad that no one had come to pick her up to begin her day.

Severus was quiet as he crept out of bed, his footfalls quiet as he exited your bedroom to enter the baby's room just next door. Severus always left the baby's nursery door slightly cracked in the event the baby needed something during the night or woke up earlier than usual.

He pushed the door open gently, a burst of sunlight painting the hallway. The room was perfectly warm for a January morning, a vast difference from the bitter cold on the outside.

He glanced at the crib, seeing some movement in the crib. She was squirming excitedly, happy that someone was finally coming to get her up for the day.

She was awake, but not agitated in the slightest that no one had come to get her yet. She was content to lie in her crib for a little while, the charmed mobile above her crib keeping her entertained. She couldn't have been awake for very long, considering it was only a few minutes after her usual wake up time.

Severus approached her crib with a gentleness that few knew he possessed. His dark eyes, so often narrowed with sternness, softened when they gazed upon his child.

"Good morning, darling." He smiled, reaching down to pick up the cooing baby.

His daughter smiled back at him with a sleepy grin and sluggish eyes, but held an expression of confusion as to why her mother wasn't there to wake her like usual.

"Not expecting me this morning, hm?" He asked, which only returned a yawn from his daughter. "We'll let Mum sleep in this morning. She deserves it."

The eight-month-old only babbled in response, mouthing at Severus' shoulder through his T-shirt. You and Severus were pretty sure she had some teeth coming in based on the fact that she wanted to chew on everything.

Usually you dressed the baby as the first step of her morning routine, but it was the weekend so she would more than likely be home for the majority of the day. Severus opted to leave her in her pajamas for now, which she had no protests with.

She was rather clingy today, her tiny hands grabbing for him to pick her up again once she was dressed. She knew that if anyone in the world would pick her up whenever she wished, I was Severus.

Severus struggled with leaving her when she wanted to be picked up. You had been telling Severus for the last month or so that it is indeed okay to let her sit on her own as long as she's being supervised. She was beginning to work towards crawling, and you knew the only way she was ever going to learn to crawl was if she had the chance to be on the ground.

But Severus couldn't resist his daughter's grabby hands and beaming eyes. He spoiled the little girl, and he just couldn't tell her no.

He whisked her down the stairs, smiling at her giggles when he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Severus knew it was time for breakfast, and he knew that she was going to get fussy if he didn't get her fed soon. He slipped her into her highchair, her legs wiggling as she squirmed with anticipation.

"What would you like for breakfast, princess?" He asked, only receiving an interested stare in response. "I know you like eggs...and I think Mum picked up some fruit yesterday."

Severus turned and surveyed the inside of the fridge, studying its contents to make a decision. She was getting impatient, whining and babbling for Severus to hurry up. She was on a specific schedule, and her late wake up time had her about fifteen minutes behind.

Severus went with his suggestion on the premise that eggs and fruit were a safe option. She wasn't terribly picky, but since this wasn't her usual routine, he figured giving her something that he knew she liked was best.

Severus selected a few eggs from the fridge, deciding to cook them all and divide the portion appropriately between himself, you, and the baby. He knew it wouldn't be long before you were up, so he got started on getting a pot of coffee brewed as well.

With a wave of his wand, the stove ignited and began cooking the eggs in a pan while he worked on getting some fruit mashed up for her.

"Strawberries or a banana?" He asked her, who was more interested in dancing in her chair than picking which fruit she wanted.

Severus was certain that she hadn't eaten strawberries before. He took a chance and went with the strawberries, retrieving a few and getting them smushed enough to be suitable for baby consumption. He plated the eggs once they were cooked,

He pulled up a chair to her highchair, holding the tiny baby spoon and bowl in his hand to begin feeding her baby spoonfuls of her breakfast.

She made a noise of approval with the strawberries, barely even swallowing before motioning for more. For an eight-month-old, she was a fantastic eater and would try nearly anything.

Your daughter giggled, her eyes sparkling with the sight of her dad in front of her. Severus couldn't help but feel a tug at his heartstrings. This was a side of him that no one else got to see, a side reserved only for his precious little one.

He felt so incredibly lucky to have a child. He felt even more blessed to raise her and love her in the ways he never was. He wasn't a perfect father by any means, but he made it his personal mission to never give her a reason to think of him as a bad father.

When her noises slowed and she hesitated to take any more bites of food, Severus stopped feeding her and began cleaning up. Slowly but surely, she was fed to satisfaction -- and Severus managed to fill himself up by getting bites in between feeding her.

Her face and shirt was painted with stains of sticky red from the strawberries, but she was happy as a clam and not at all concerned about the fact that she would most certainly need a bath.

Severus stood at the sink, letting her entertain herself while he arranged the dishes to be washed. When she gave a particularly joyous squeal, he knew that she had spotted something that she liked.

You were up now, standing in the doorway of the kitchen just freshly awake.

"Good morning, you two." You spoke gently, still clad in your sleepwear from the night before.

Severus turned, grinning at you with a small pink tint in his cheeks.

"Good morning, darling. We've just had breakfast." He smiled at you, his wife who he adored so dearly.

"I see that. You should've woke me up," You said. "I didn't mean to oversleep."

"Nonsense, darling. You needed the rest, and I am perfectly capable of taking on breakfast," He said. "I...assumed eggs and fruit were a safe choice."

"Oh, yeah. That's perfect," You approached the highchair, using your fingers to swipe some of her bed head hair to the side. "Looks like the strawberries were a hit." You laughed, noting the stains of red on her pink pajama shirt.

"Yes...sorry about that, my love." He blushed.

"I needed to do laundry today anyways," You smiled, not irritated in the slightest. "She'll be grown out of it soon."

A slight pang in Severus' chest made him go quiet for a moment. She was growing so fast that he couldn't even believe it. In four short months, she was going to be a year old. To think that it had been almost a year since she was born completely blew his mind. Next thing he knew, she would be starting her first day at Hogwarts and getting sorted into her House.

For now, he was enjoying her infant stage of life. Just as he had cherished the newborn phase, and how he would the toddler stage and beyond.

"I say it's time for a bath." You lifted her from her highchair, laughing again at how sticky she was.

"I can handle it," Severus said, turning the sink faucet off. "Might as well finish her morning routine."

"Are you sure?" You asked, feeling a bit guilty that he was taking on your usual morning duties.

"Absolutely," He grinned, taking her from you and turning his attention to her. "Mum will read you your bedtime story and put you to bed tonight. Does that work?"

She only hummed, clearly content with the arrangement they had going on today.

"Thank you, Sev." You said, thanking him for being so attentive and letting you sleep in for a bit.

"Oh, darling, it was nothing," He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Why don't you have breakfast and coffee while I get her ready for the day?"

Sure enough, Severus had a plate and a cup of coffee ready to go for you, a charm casted to keep the coffee hot and the food warm.

"The day where we have nothing planned?" You grinned, and Severus chuckled.

"Exactly."

And to Severus, a Saturday with nothing to do was perfect. In a lot of ways, nothing was everything when you and the baby were around.

His family (albeit small) was everything he ever needed.

[sunny-mercya]

Bittersweet

Geto Suguru x Male Reader | Platonic! Guilty Gojo Satoru x Male Reader

Fandom -> Jujutsu Kaisen

Masterlist

Gojo always detest it when he had to visit you. It wasn't because he hated—a strong word, more like dislike—you, if anything, it was more out of the still immense guilt he feels in your presence.

A guiltiness which eats him up, making him a pitiful whimpering mess in the nights. Bawling his eyes out at the empty shrines, after every visit—his confidence crumbling into nothing but dust, the insecurity resurfacing again and haunting him like the phantom, dull, pain he feels in his eyes and back.

It was his fault. His damned fault that you're like this now. A mere shell of apathetic lethargy and suicidal tendencies—three tries had almost succeeded.

So yes, Gojo detests, hated it even, to visit you. He had to though, in his sole duty of being your friend—even when you once had said, he isn't anymore a friend but a stranger—and because leiri made him to do.

Trotting up the stairs to your apartment, bags in one hand and the other causally in his pant pockets—playing with the house-keys—Gojo thought what to cook for you.

Perhaps your favourite? No, no, that it is only reserved for the Sundays. A light meal then? Something with fish? Pizza or Pasta? The list is endless to choice from and giving him a headache.

Shoko had told him, in her doctoring lecturing way, to create a Meal-Plan and only cook light meals for you—easy to digest—and nothing too overall fatty and heavy.

Gojo had waved her off, nagging at her how you wouldn't be able to enjoy the goods of foods with something dumb as a "meal-plan".

In the end, Gojo admits that Shoko was indeed right. Considering the amounts of meals and dishes he had taken home for himself, giving it away to his students or the homeless or had to throw it all away. After all you couldn't eat more than, on your good days, three to four bites—till hours later you would heave it up into the toilet again.

A Meal-Plan, huh? Yeah he could do that. Megumi can help him too.

Unlocking the door, Gojo stepped in and announced his presence.

~~~

After emptying out the bags and putting away the items for now, Gojo ventured into the living room—knowing well you're in there, either sitting or laying on the couch and watching whatever is being shown in the television.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, once upon seeing a half finished puzzle on the coffee table and messy toys around it.

Megumi had brought them over during his last visit, telling you; these are much better to beat boredom than some television. Next time I'll bring some books.

Gojo was glad, relieved even, that you played with it.

Crouching down in front of you, blocking the view to television with his still towering high, he takes your hand in his—greeting you with a more softer gently smile.

»Sky eyes,«

Gojo had decided long ago, when you had first muttered those words to him—in the very beginning of your mental downfall, now a in a constant state of lingering decaying—that this was your way of greeting him, how you told him that you're aware of his presence.

Gojo had once made a mistake to come with his blindfold and spooked you so much—you really had believed and still would, if he tries again, that Gojo had been some kind of intruder with evil intentions—you screamed shrill and released a upcoming hurricane of thunderstorms with your cursed energy—now particularly sealed away for your own safety.

So now, whenever Gojo comes over he wears his round shaped sunglasses from his highschool years.

»Yeah, it's me, how are you today [Nickname]?« he asked questions even when he knew he wouldn't get replies from you.

»Hungry? I will made you some nice chicken nuggets, brought the Dino-shaped this time«

Gojo was aware he babbles. He doesn't care, he rather talks nonsense to himself and your apathetic self—than listen to the constant annoying chatter of the television and the upcoming silence which would follow afterwards.

»C'mon [Name], it's bath time,« Gojo picks you up, carrying you into the bathroom and sitting you down on a stool.

He fills the bathtub, making sure the temperature was neither too hot nor cold. He adds some bubble foam to it and two toys.

Gojo undress you slowly, cautiously of your still fresh wounds—self-inflicted days ago, when a night had gotten worse again. Sitting you in the water, he washes you. Humming happily some melody, occasionally joining you in moving the toy ducks arounds.

»Quack squishy wuack«

»Yeah, wuacky quacky [Nickname], look there wants to join another ducky« he showed you the third toy duck, adding it to the water.

A squeal of joy came over your lips, looking with wide eyes at Gojo, happiness radiating off from you as you continue to play.

Gojo's lips trembles, guilt crawling up his throat again.

~~~

Nights are cruel in their own way. Leaving the thoughts spinning and setting them free. Bringing out a loneliness and feelings once deep buried down.

Gojo buried his head in his hands, slightly gripping his snow white hair—you once said to him, how his hair reminds you of the first snow—sitting at the edge of your bed.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply, breathing in a pattern of three-five-five. His thoughts are going haywire again, flaring up the guilt—which is now so thick in his throat that he couldn't swallow anymore.

He looks at you—such a peaceful expression on your face, already so deep in the blissful dreamland—moving his hand to slowly drive through your hair with his fingers, all the way down to your cheeks and caressing them.

His gaze goes to the few photo frames on your nightstand, the small nightlight illuminates only so much. One particular photo always captures his attention.

It was a photo of Geto and you, happily married with Nanako and Mimiko—when they had been around 3 years old—in your arms.

A time where you had been the uttermost happiest. Now it was in ruins, leaving you all alone.

If Gojo had been a bit stronger, if he didn't let Geto go, back then when they had argued over jujutsu sorcery's politics and their moral beliefs towards the world, had been more stubborn—than it wouldn't have ended like this.

With his best friend being dead—at fault for this was Gojo himself, he was the one who killed Geto after all—and you, who had already lost your husband and losing your daughters shortly after—till today you didn't know how they died and Gojo thanked the above that it hadn't been him who done that—who is nothing but a decaying shell forevermore.

»Ya know, [Nickname], I've decided you gonna move in with me now. So I can take even better care of you.«

That's what Geto would've wanted.

[thatswhywelovegermany]

German customs and superstitions in the Holy Week and at Easter

Apart from having days off work, eating chocolate bunnies and hunting easter eggs with the family, there are some lesser known traditions in Germany around the Holy Week, mixing Christian and pagan traditions. The first mention was in a letter from 751 by missionary Saint Boniface to Pope Zachary, asking him how to deal with this pagan tradition. Meanwhile, it has been incorporated into the liturgy of the Catholic church, when at the beginning of the Easter Night, a small fire is lit from which the presbyter lights a candle, which is brought into the church in a procession of the congregation.

First and foremost, there is the tradition of the Easter Fire. Depending on the region, there are different manifestations of this tradition. In the north, villagers or neighborhoods set up a huge bonfire from tree and shrub cuttings at a place that is visible from far away. It is lit and burned down on the evening of Holy Saturday or Easter Sunday, depending on the region.

In some places, the figure of a witch is set up on top of the bonfire. The youth keeps a watch during the nights before to make sure that no one from the surrounding villages sets it prematurely on fire. The villagers or neighbours gather with drinks to watch the fire. In some places, a betting game is held on the time when the central tree trunk will collapse, the earnings being donated to the local voluntary fire department.

In Bavaria, the fires are small and used to light candles and incense. In some places, arm-thick birch branches are set on fire and burned half-way before they are taken out of the fire, extinguished by dipping them in water, and stored in the attic in order to prevent fire in the house.

Good Friday is a silent holiday, which means that loud music, dancing and comedic events are forbidden. This leads to yearly protest by the party folks. Some religious people try not to speak the entire day. In some regions, children are sent out on the early morning of Easter Sunday to fetch Easter Water from nearby rivers or creeks, which they must bring home without talking a word. Otherwise the water turns into useless "Babble Water".

Some people don't wash any clothes during the Holy Week. There is a superstition that anyone who wears a piece of clothing washed during the Holy Week will inevitably fall ill and die. The same will happen when they will cook peas, sew clothes, chop wood, or slaughter an animal.

Another taboo is digging in the garden and breaking up the soil during the Holy Week. It is said that this will disturb the rest in death not only in the surrounding graveyards, but in particular that of Jesus Christ.

[dellalyra]

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ ʙᴏᴏᴋ: ᴀᴋɪᴏ ʀʏᴜ ᴛᴀᴅᴀsʜɪ ɢᴏᴊᴏ

ᴀ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ᴇxᴛʀᴀ

Pixie says: requested by my darling angel mrs.geto (aka @soraya-daydreams) forever ago but I have just finished bc uni has been kicking my booty. i love this - it’s mostly silly but a nice lil extra for FF.

The first time Akio laughed, it surpised nobody that it was his father who elicited the sound. The game of peekaboo had always made the baby smile and gurgle away but today it seemed to especially tickle him as you lay beside him on the bed with Satoru popping in and out sporadically of his field of vision. Satoru popped up with enough gusto to even make you laugh. That’s when the most melodic sound either of you had heard rang across the room. A tiny, bubbling giggle from the stretched out baby on the comforter - you both froze.

“Do it again, ‘Toru.” You whisper, urgently.

So he does.

And he laughs again.

That night you both spent hours coming up with ways to make the baby laugh and recording videos to send to the family.

Safe to say, next time Itadori was over - it became very clear that Akio was a Gojo through and through when he began laughing at Sukuna’s malicious remarks through Yuuji’s cheek mouth.

At 5 months, Akio was on his play mat on the living room floor while you made some food with your husband. Music from the speaker had coaxed your husband into twirling you around and wrapping you in his arms as he laughed at whatever nonsense you were babbling on about, pressing kisses to your cheeks and nose. You’re spun like a princess and when you see the baby mat, you gasp. Satoru stops, looking at you - then the mat.

Akio wasn’t on his back anymore chewing on his teething ring - he was sitting up.

Sitting up and staring at you both.

With a murderous glare of an angry cat, exactly like his father.

“He sat up.” Satoru whispers.

“Yeah, with first degree murder in mind, I think.” You reply.

You approach the baby (cautiously).

His face suddenly changes into a bright smile, wide and cheerful as he has another first.

He reaches his chubby little arms out and makes grabby hands toward you.

Gasping, you scoop him up.

“My baby! Of course you can have a cuddle, my smart little man!” You coo, nuzzling his little head.

Satoru leaps over the back of the sofa and comes to join in.

“Grabby hands and sitting up in one night! Baby boy, you’re spoiling us!” He says, reaching to squeeze his arms around your waist.

The baby frowns.

Satoru pulls away.

Akio smiles.

Satoru lifts Akio from your arms, and he’s fine and dandy, nuzzling his papa.

Satoru goes to kiss you both on the cheek but when he gets to you he’s met with a scowling baby again.

“Holy shit - kid, am I not allowed to touch your mama?!” Satoru gasps.

You test the theory and find that Akio loves cuddling you both still, just - separate. The minute Satoru tries to kiss you it’s back to the scowl (luckily, not a tantrum).

“Listen here - she was my wife first.” He narrows his eyes at the baby he has suspended above his head.

“He’s bound to be a little possessive, he did come out of me.” You roll your eyes, laughing at the two Gojo boys battling for your attention.

Satoru pouts, sulking.

“Yeah well, I come in you.” He retorts.

“You are so lucky that child is only 6 months old and you haven’t scarred him for life like you did with Megumi.”

At 7 months - you and Satoru were waving goodbye to Megumi on a Sunday evening as he went back to stay at the dorms for the week, with Akio on your hip. Feeling movement from the baby, you look at him as he clumsily waves his hand around toward his brother.

“Look! ‘Toru! He’s waving bye-bye! You waving bye-bye to ‘Gumi, baba?” You coo, as Megumi stands at the gate for an extra minute just to wave at his little brother being doted on by his parents. Ijichi, here to collect Megumi, receives a wave too.

8 months - Akio’s hand and finger movements are improving rapidly, slightly advanced for his age if anything. He can grab and pull and push and pick things up now - much to the entire families amazement.

One sunny Thursday evening, the designated day every week for ‘Kooking with Kento’, as you named it back in High School. The tradition formed when Nanami first made enough food for an exhausted young and Satoru one day after a particularly long and frustrating mission, and has been a weekly occurrence since. Nanami would come to the house, you and him would cook and then the family would eat together. This week, with it being a balmy April evening - you sat outside in the garden together, a bottle of wine split between you all and Akio on his Godfather’s lap. Mid-sentence, Kento was cut off as Akio reached up to grab his Uncle’s sunglasses off his face.

It was silent for a moment as the baby waved them around, before you and Satoru burst into cacophonous laughter.

Nanami couldn’t help the small smile as he fitted the glasses on the babies small face.

First word was unsurprising. A day trip out with his parents, sitting in a cafe as you and Satoru share two large slices of cake and milkshakes and Akio drools over the sight in from of him. He begins jabbing his little hand at the plate, poking you both in the face and babbling nonsense.

“You had some cake, ‘Kio!” You laugh.

“This is my cake. Papa’s cake.” Satoru says.

“Eh? Mama and Papa’s cake. ‘S mine too!” You pout, batting his fork away with yours.

“I’m bigger than you, so I should get about 70% of it.” He reasons.

“Absolutely not. I wanted my own slice, you insisted on sharing because it would be romantic so it’s a 50/50 split or go get your own, Satoru Gojo.” You glare. Cake’s a serious topic in your house.

“It is romantic!” He argues.

“I agree, it’s adorable, and I love that you suggested such a cute thing - what’s also adorable is cake. We split the cake 50/50, Satoru. It was literally in our wedding vows that all cakes be split in half so that we can both live happy lives.” You contribute, still sword fighting his fork.

“Cake!” Came an angry little voice.

“Mama’s cake!”

“Papa’s cake!”

There’s silence.

Akio is looking at you both.

You look at him, then each other. Tears spilling in both your eyes.

“Cake!” Akio claps, shouting the word again.

You both let out a sob. Hugging him and then each other and pressing kisses to every face at the table.

“As much as you want, sweet baby!” You say, feeding the 11 month old a bite of your cake.

“Any cake! All of it!” Satoru nods, beaming and ordering three more slices.

His first steps, came toward his father.

Satoru had been training with Megumi all afternoon in school, before they both got into his car and drove home to you and Akio. You had returned to work a month prior, continuing to teach the second years and had picked up Akio from your mom’s that afternoon before driving home.

You were sitting on the floor with your baby, playing with his blocks and reading him stories before the jingle of keys could be heard at the front door. Your son crawled out of your lap and toward the hallway, stopping at the coffee table as the door unlocked and in walked his father and older brother.

“Hi, my loves!” Satoru calls, smiling and blowing kisses toward you both as he takes off his sunglasses and coat.

“Hi mom.” Megumi calls.

Akio squeals, hearing the two voices, using the edge of the table to pull himself onto his feet as he’d been doing for a month now.

The two men come around the corner, and Megumi leans against the archway to the room and Satoru kneels down on his haunches as he always does to let Akio crawl to him.

However, nobody expected him to pull his hands away from the table and begin to take wobbly, determined steps toward him.

“Oh my god!” You gasp.

“Yes, baby! You got this! Come see papa!” Satoru calls, delight evident.

Megumi straightens up, walking around the side - ready to pounce at any sign of a tumble.

The baby makes his way just to his father’s feet on his unsteady feet before his legs give way and he tumbles straight into his father’s large, waiting arms.

The three of you crowd over him, cooing and kissing and crying (you and Satoru), and later when he walks toward Megumi - you record a video - a very precious video to save to the collection.

At 14 months, a trip to the playground reveals a lot.

You and Satoru, Megumi and Itadori (Nobara is shopping, unsurprisingly) are sitting having a picnic as you watch the baby toddle around the area playing with the giant abacus and building blocks, and thoroughly enjoying the sandpit.

You see his little head follow something, eyes locked intently on it. Following his line of sight, all you can see is a playhouse. A cute, wooden playhouse.

Looking to your side, you see your husband is staring at the same spot.

“Satoru?” You ask.

“He’s looking right at it.”

“Huh? The playhouse? Why’s he so focused on it?” You puzzle, there’s one in the garden at home so it’s not a new sight for the baby.

“No. There’s - Y/N - there’s a fly head in it.” Satoru says, eyes flicking between the boy and the playhouse.

Your head snaps, toward the baby.

You follow his line of sight, and sure enough he’s staring directly at the top left corner of the playhouse roof.

“Is it in the top left corner?” You ask Satoru.

He nods.

“Holy shit.” You whisper.

“He’s got it.” Satoru says, breathless in wonder.

“Huh? Got what?” Itadori asks through a mouthful of strawberries.

“Shut up, just watch.” Megumi elbows him.

“How…? I thought - ” You begin.

“It’s said to be impossible but… I always wondered with the strength of your cursed energy - combined with my bloodline, if it would create another one.” Satoru says, serious and thoughtful.

“He doesn’t have my cursed energy though? Only yours.” You ask.

“It’s only Gojo energy he has, yeah, but what Gojo energy would have been weakened by one parent being a less powerful sorcerer was bolstered by the fact you’re a special grade yourself. It strengthened my genes to create another one, fully powered.” He says, breathless in his awe.

Your jaw drops. Shocked.

Akio - has broken the mould.

Two wielders of the Six Eyes now exist in the world.

You look back at the baby, grabbing Satoru’s hand who squeezes it three times (I love you.) You squeeze it back four. (I love you too).

The baby pulls himself up. Toddling in the direction of the playhouse. You go to stand up, a flick of a finger from any adult or student sorcerer would exorcise a fly head. You’re pulled back down, onto your husband’s lap.

“They’re harmless alone. It won’t hurt him.” He says.

You know he’s right, and wouldn’t ever let anything hurt a hair on that baby’s head so you sit, leaning back against his chest.

As Akio approaches the playhouse, the fly head comes out and perches on the little bench beside it.

Akio stares at it, tilting his head like a curious kitten.

Itadori jumps up, ready to go fist fight in a playground - but Megumi pulls him down.

“Watch this.” Megumi says, quietly.

The fly head moves toward where Megumi’s divine dogs are flanking the baby and lands on Akio’s shoulder. He just looks at it, curious - until it pulls on his fluffy white hair. Without a sound, just a frown - and a smack of a pudgy fist - the fly head drops to the ground, fizzling into nothing.

You and Satoru just look on in awe, silent and amazed by your beautiful baby boy.

“He’s something special.” Satoru says, voice full of love.

“Course he is, he’s part of you.” You whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Itadori is just sitting slack jawed.

“Did the baby just -” He mumbles.

“Welcome to the Gojo household.” Megumi smirks.

His first conscious choice of style came with a decision at two and a half. He marched into the living room where you sat, his papa’s head on your lap as you stroked his hair. Papa had the same hair as Akio, just shorter.

“Mama! Papa!” He says, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Yes, sir?” Satoru says, one eye open and saluting the child.

“Change my hair!” He says, determined.

Your heart nearly broke - hoping he wouldn’t ask for it to be cut - you adored his long white locks you tied in a little bun. Yet, if he wanted it cut - you’d agree.

“What do you want to do, ‘Kio?” You ask, still combing your hands through the head of hair on your lap, where your husband sat nuzzling the growing bump and whispering sweet nothings to you and the baby inside.

He pats the top of his head, looking at you both from in front of the fireplace.

“Up here! Like Uncle Soso!” He says, smiling.

You and Satoru just smile at him (relieved he’s okay with keeping his precious long hair).

“You want two little buns like Uncle Soso?” You confirm.

He nods, very assuredly.

“Your Uncle Soso’s hair is pretty fire, kid, good choice.” Satoru smiles at him, beckoning him to sit on his lap where he lays.

“Yeah, ‘s so fire.” The baby nods, smiling and grinning.

“Okay, how about we do it the next time we go see him at school?” You suggest.

The baby cheers and claps and tosses himself onto his father’s lap like an Olympian, thanks to his tall height for a 2 and a half year old and then hugs you both.

“Mama? Maybe we watch Toothless? Papa loves Toothless. As a s‘prise for him?” He whispers (he doesn’t, he’s got all the subtlety of his father).

“Oh, is it for Papa? I thought we watched How To Train Your Dragon for Akio?” You smirk.

“No - for papa.”

You look down at your husband.

“No. He’s right. It’s for papa.” Satoru confirms, smirking up at you both before flicking on the film as the three (four) of you curl up under a blanket.

Akio’s first little sibling was a day of great excitement for him. He sat, not patiently, on the floor of his ‘Uncle Soso’s’ apartment, playing with blocks and toy animals with him (his Uncle Soso was very fun to play with, he thought) and asking every 20 minutes if the baby had come. Every time, Uncle Soso would say “not yet, ‘Kio, but soon.”

When the phone rang, and Choso answered Megumi’s call saying the baby was here and it was time to come to the infirmary - he scooped up Akio and said,

“Wanna go meet your sister?”

Akio was enamoured with Mirai from the moment he laid eyes on her. She was so tiny, even tinier than his baby dolls and looked like a pretty snowflake. She had the same hair as him, white and fluffy but her eyes looked like his Mama’s. He kissed her softly on the forehead, trying to remember all the things ‘Gumi and Uncle Soso told him about being a good big brother.

He was so attentive, insisting on playing quietly in the same room as Mirai when she napped so he could keep an eye on her - and keeping a little cloth in his toy box so he could help Papa or Mama if she had too much milk. He would sit and tell her stories every night, trying to remember the ones Mama and Papa told him about the heroes who saved the world, the Knight with the Pink Hair (he thought that one was cool, since his Jiji (Yuuji) has pink hair), The Prince of Shadows, The Piercing Princess and the Wizard Kendo. He told her the love stories of the King and Queen in the stories too, he liked those characters a lot - The Honoured King and The Queen of The Forest. Sometimes, he would wake up in the morning and see Papa asleep, with Mirai on his broad chest and Mama asleep in bed and crawl into bed between them, holding their hands and kissing his baby sister, before drifting back to sleep with them.

The first secret he had to keep was the ring. He was 6 and ‘Gumi was sitting at the table with him, Mirai and their parents.

“Mom, dad - I - um… wanna show you guys something.” He said, awkwardly as ever.

Akio didn’t look up, his pasta was too good.

Well, he didn’t look up until he heard his Papa gasp and his mama shout ‘No fucking way!’.

On the table, in front of Megumi was a tiny black box with a gold ring inside. Whats so special about that? Mama and Papa both wear rings all the time.

“You’re gonna do it? You’re gonna ask him?” His mama asks, voice sounding funny.

“How? Is it super romantic? Oh my god, our baby boy is getting married!” His papa shouts.

“I haven’t asked him yet!” Megumi retorts, his face really red.

“Like he’d ever say no.” His dad rolls his eyes.

“Your dad’s right, ‘Gumi - he adores the ground you walk on! When are you going to ask him? Do you need any help? We can book out a restaurant or something for you!” You squeal in excitement.

“Tomorrow. I’m not going to do anything extravagant - you two always said your private, quiet proposal was really special so I’m going down that route.” He says, shrugging but face focused.

“What’s a posal?” Mirai asks, face covered in sauce.

“When you ask someone to marry you, ‘Rai.” Akio responds to her.

“How did you posal, mama and papa?” She asks, poking her dad in the arm.

“Your papa made a pretty picnic and we sat out in the garden in the summer and he gave me a pretty ring and asked if I would marry him. It was just us two, and it was perfect.” You say, tilting your head to kiss your husband, both softly smiling.

“Of course it was, everything I do is perfect - just look around this table. I’m the strongest.” Satoru nodded, winking.

“Of course I said yes, and we got married and that was 12 years ago! Then we had you two squirts.” You says, sticking out his tongue. You stood up, walking to put your arms around Megumi’s shoulders and kiss the top of his head, eyes teary and smiling.

“And she’ll never get away!” Satoru says, running to lift you up and over his shoulder, tickling your sides as you squeal, before he sits back down, now with you on his lap, arm around his neck. Papa and Mama were always touching, he liked seeing them cuddle, it made them both smile a lot.

“So ‘Gumi is gonna marry Jiji?” Mirai asks.

“I’m gonna ask him to, yeah. Is that okay with you two, because if we get married he’ll be your brother too.” Megumi asks, serious.

“Yes please! Please, please, please!” Akio pleads.

“Get married tomorrow!” Mirai squeals.

“I’ll ask him tomorrow, how about that?” Megumi smirks.

“Deal.” Akio says, nodding.

The next time Megumi came over for dinner, three days later, Yuuji was wearing the gold ring.

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

• all my fanfictions for kylian here • there's mature writing here • community labels are a thing so if you want to read smuts, change the labels

🩷 = mature

♥︎ My kylian scenarios are right here. I love scenarios so please send some if you want maybe I'll write one into a full fic

Space: part one | part two

ooohhh glad you're back to write new fics! how about something angsty with kylian mbappé where he loses his fiancé due to him "needing space" over a petty issue and only for him to regret and try to win her heart back

Pr or more: part one | part two🩷| part three🩷

you and kylian are in a PR relationship to boost your career, but there was one small problem.. you both hated each other! Or did you....

Little things

Imagine you were heavily pregnant and Kylian always comes to the rescue anytime you need him like coming home with your cravings, massaging your back and feet, cuddling, putting on a comfort movie and reassuring her that everything’s gonna be ok🩷

Little creation

Ok since you're talking about kylian and giving him babies what if you have a little baby and he's doing press and his baby sitting on his lap babbling into the mic and distracting him and everyone in the room? I can imagine him smiling so hard at his little creation

Can't get you off my mine 🩷

Summary from my scenarios: a kylian fic where you both broke up but neither you or Kylian can have sex with anyone else so you both run back to each other for a night of passion

Sinful 🩷

I've a Kylian request for suurrreeeeee. What about going on vacation with Kylian as friends but you've feeling for each and him burning his skin while sunbathing and then you try to help by applying moisturizers and creams on and you know how things can endddddd

Distraction

Hey, for a Kylian fic I wanted to request: how about Kylian taking his daughter to training and theyre filming the Paris “no comment” series that day, so in the end its just his little girl commanding everyone around and getting treated liked the princess she is

Foggy glass 🩷

Smut Request}You’re about to go to bed. Kylian is needy, but you’re a little apprehensive because you’re on your period. Kylian doesn’t mind, and he convinces you into having raw period sex. There’s a first time for everything.

Twisted

Can I please have one where Kylian and reader have an argument, he walks out, she tries to hold back her tears until she goes upstairs into the bathroom and trips over a stair, sprains her ankle, she screams in pain and tries to phone Kylian but no answer, she goes into the kitchen to get an ice pack and goes to sleep until he comes home, he finds her waking up, he admits he fucked up and apologises, he asks her questions on why there’s ice but she says she’s ok until he sees her swollen ankle, takes her to hospital and doesn’t leave her side (I’d love to see comfort Kylian at the end) pleaseeee💕

Genes

No but imagine Kylian and you comparing baby pics😭😭😭 And you guys play fight about how your baby will look more like. Omg he makes a side by side of you two , and posts it as a poll. He asks his followers who they think has the stronger genes. Omg and when you’re baby is finally born she looks exactly like Kylian, but as she gets older she has the same face moles that you have. When he finally posts the baby his caption is, “well I guess my competitiveness has no limits. Cause our baby looks exactly like me. It looks like I gave birth to her myself🫃🏽🤣”

Sunday

No cause imagine every night/morning Kylian would nag you into pulling your shirt up so he can speak to his baby😭He’s just always wanting to touch your belly cause he’s so proud and thankful. He’s extra protective of you now that you’re pregnant. He’s always been so protective of you, and he doesn’t care who it is. He won’t tolerate it if anyone disrespects his woman. Sometimes he’ll just catch a glimpse of you and your belly and he’s in awe. In awe that he got so lucky.

Close - coming soon

[bloodandthestars]

𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐘𝐄.

priest!suguru geto x fem!reader. a part of JUDAS, a kinktober drabble series.

tw: talks on religion, smoking :: edit: UPDATED

wc: 2k :: masterlist :: previous part

Sunday went as smoothly as he’d mull over in his head. The sermon was made to be a continuation of the previous one: where to find strength through God in the path of life’s obstacles. With Suguru moving voice and emphasis, the communion consumed and praised Him to be.

Wednesday rolled around, and it was a night of Bible study but more importantly, the potluck everyone was waiting for. Mrs. Kaskai and a few other church women set the picnic tables outside in the courtyard, her husband getting the lights to work around wooding postings. Mr. Weren brought propane for the grill, excited to be cooking ribs he had marinating in the church’s kitchen for a week now. With the Father’s help, they worked together as one to make it all happen for their community.

Suguru clicks a spoon to his glass to gather everyone’s attention. It was once simple click and heads turned without a second wasted. Children were hushed to soft murmurs and babbles, and all eyes were on him. Like they always were. And as always, he presented himself with a smile.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that the food we have here today isn’t like any other. Practically have a few five start chefs among us.” The crowd laughs heartily.

“The effort is seen and worth appreciating, especially with the succession of the bake sale!” Claps and cheers could be heard all around, including the father’s. They simmer down for him to continue. “It’s worth the celebration, so here we are, to bless and be blessed. Let us bow our heads.”

Small groups crowed around the food tables to get their pieces. As Suguru gives a nod of gratitude for Mr. Everest putting some on his place, he glances down to the array of foods. Each with their own signed cards of what was made and by who. His eyes glance over the varied names. His steps slow as they narrow in concentration, wanting to be sure he was seeing things correctly. A dark chocolate cake sat in front of him, with your name signed at the bottom. Did you come through here already? How come he didn’t see you?

He glances around, searching for your face in the crowd. When he came up empty-handed, the priest moves to allow the line to flow again.

The night went on as lively as ever, talking with each smiling patron after the next. He’d smile back, laugh with their jokes, but feel as though he was much farther from everyone than he really was. His words were half-hearted at best. Every now and then his glance takes him outward, looking to his surroundings. After the third or maybe fourth glance around, he eyes figure sitting on top of the hood of a car. A figure he’d recognize from his distracting thoughts.

“Are you alright, Pastor?”

He nods, blinking himself back into conversation with an older woman and her daughter. “Yes, my apologies.”

Those eyes wonder about again after the reassurance was made. Suguru knew the real answer to that question, and the one thing he could do to fix it.

The church parking lot only had about four street lights. You were under one of them, sitting atop your car, with a scent that he knew as clear as day. He shouldn’t approach you. If you looked like you wanted to be left alone, the result would have been just that. But his dress shoes keep their path, walking in your direction. Your head turns when you seemed to notice him approaching. Eyes glance at him up and down, he surely wasn’t mistaken on that. “Evening, Father.”

He greets you back with a mention of your name. Glancing away, he catches how you has a good view of everyone in the courtyard. Looking back, he asks. “Not one for these kinds of things?”

You blow out smoke to the side with a scrunch of your lips. “Not particularly.”

“May I ask why?”

Your smile feels like fingers crawling up his back. “Aren’t you off the clock, Father? No need to try and pull a confession.”

A warmth spreads on his cheeks, causing him to look away with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m only teasing you.”

What you pull from your pocket causes Suguru’s mouth to dry. A pack of cigarettes with a slight dent at the top. You pop open the carton, pulling out a stick. You look to the pastor, who watches your hands until he catches your gaze on him. It’s like you’re getting even worse for him to ignore— trading one slight for another.

He nods his head in your direction and you give him the pack. He hears the flicker of a lighter as he puts a cigarette on the trim oh his mouth. It parts, about to ask you for the light, until he feels something grab his shirt. Suguru looks up to catch the end of your cigarette with yours. Your eyes focus on making sure his lights, while his eyes can’t seem to turn away from your face. Not when you were so, so close. His heart picks up in light patters, hoping— praying, it was masked in his breathing.

He could only find himself to relax just as you finished lighting. You pull your head back, hand holding your sitting firm up from behind. Suguru leans his weight against the car with his back to you, entirely quiet.

There he was swirling in a spiral of water that never seemed to end. Why did you do that? The lighter was right there. He was just on the brink of being swallowed whole in your proximity. If only you ate a bit more.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips with shaky hand, blowing smoke off to the side. The silence remained so, but surprisingly to him, his shoulders begin to slack. His exhales become heavier as they roll out every stress of just that week. All in the intimate quiet you two shared.

“I suppose this was a much needed break.” He speaks up behind another inhale. You let your cigarette hang off your mouth as you glance to him. “Even you need breaks from all that religious zeal, Father?”

You were teasing him, he caught on it this time. Suguru laughs quietly, letting smoke follow after. "Of course I need a break," He replied. "As the head of this community, I feel responsible for everyone's well-being. Sometimes it's difficult to look after so many people at once.”

You both took a drag from your cigarettes. Your eyes look to the sky, watching as your smoke dissipates. Once again, you felt yourself be honest on holy ground. “I can’t imagine having to listen to them. Trying to solve every problem they have with a book older than the earth itself.”

Suguru didn’t know if he was supposed to take offense or not. But you weren’t exactly wrong. He knew how the people in the congregation operate. “People don't realize how much they project onto these ancient scriptures," Geto replied, nodding his head in agreement. "They don't consider the context of when they were written and how it may apply to their own situation."

He took another deep drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke. You slight your head in agreement. "Some people love to rely on something outside of themselves to tell them how to feel and how to live, I suppose."

What was that that felt like a wound in his chest? Pride?

“You don’t exactly sound like a believer.” He huffs.

“Neither do you.”

Something twists in his stomach. The same feeling of having your hand caught in the cookie jar as a child. He lashed his head to you, you and your calm expression that gives him even more whiplash. You shrug, pulling the tobacco tab from your lips. “Promise,” You finger traces an X over your chest. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Suguru catches your witty smile. Another tease, at least he had hoped with the hard swallow down his throat. Still, you did manage to get an amused exhale out of him.

“I…” He begins, only for his eyes to fall to the ground. His words change. “I just see things a bit differently than some of them.”

“Well?”

The pastor takes a quick inhale. "I believe a priest should listen to the scripture and offer guidance where needed, but also try to instill their own values and morals into the teachings."

You arch your brow. “That just seems…normal.”

He took the cigarette from his mouth, holding it in one hand as he leaned his back against the car further. "Some members think that's a blasphemous way of looking at it," he added. "That I'm perverting their precious lessons."

He laughed, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"I say, what's so blasphemous about using your own brain?"

Your brows quirk together, turning your head to the lively scene ahead of you both. “I didn’t know there were some in your congregation that find you that way.”

"I've learned a lot about my own congregation," He explained. "The members who are devout to the scripture are very sensitive to my every action. Any perceived flaw is bound to become a rumor in these circles."

Suguru paused, taking another drag. "Thankfully, I've managed to build up a good reputation within this community."

He glances over at you, eyes doing a once over before speaking. “To which you seem all the more distant from.”

You scoff, a cloud of smoke harshly pushed onto the air. You take your eyes back to the lively scene. The children playing in the grass, the sun setting behind the fumes of a grill. Chatter and booming laughter. It all seemed perfectly cut out for a holiday card. “I’m doing all this for my mother.” You murmur. “And I know when I don’t belong somewhere.”

He looks back to the ground. Those words sounded like ones that were temporary. He hoped not but the idea of you being here permanently didn’t seem too right.

A nudge of his neatly dressed shoulder snaps him out of his thoughts. His head bounces up to look at you. You were already half way down your cigarette when you talk. “Speaking of…you should go back.”

Maybe those words were his saving grace. A holy light appearing in the confusing darkness, perhaps a blessed creature creating a path to redemption. A way for his thoughts to distance themselves from your consumption. Perhaps your words were a moment of actual divine intervention.

"I think I'll stay with you." He states, almost confidently. “I…enjoy your company.”

The ends of your lips quirk up. Your hand pats a spot next to you on the hood of the car. Suguru looks between before obliging. Once he gets himself situated, he sees the view that she has of the social event. The congregation was in bursts of small groups. There was one person however, going from one group to the next with a slight of urgency. That group looks between each other, one straying off to act like the first— questioning and questioning. Suguru only let out a sigh, not a doubt in his mind what they were looking for.

You notice, turning your head to look at him. Huffing, you throw your finished cigarette on the gravel. He reluctantly goes to stand, running a hand through his hair as your hand pulls another cigarette. You place it at your lips. “Seems that’s your-“

That evening air beginning to settle in seemed long forgotten. You’re frozen in place as you’re met with his cigarette lighting the end of yours. His hands were placed on either side of you on the sleek hood. Suguru stood still between your legs to ensure that it would light— that he wouldn’t throw up his own heart. He simply just— moved. Jumped at the opportunity when it was clear for him. His tab was much shorter than when yours in the beginning of your smoke session, making your faces all the more closer. He could feel your breath tickle his face, just as still as he was. His eyes slowly look up to yours, that have been staring at him this whole time. The look within them changes. One that makes his throat too dry to speak.

“Careful there, Eve.”

tags: @getousrep

[futuredilfharrington]

Girl-Dad! Steve Harrington Part 2

YOU GUYS :') If you don't follow me and didn't see my other post I want to thank everyone who interacted with part one of this!!! Special shoutout to those of you who reblogged, you have my heart <3. The previous part of this literally got more than double the notes of any other post I've ever made in LESS than one day!

IDK how many parts this will have, I'm just going where the wind takes me lol.

Part One

~As soon as you're recovered from giving birth (both mentally and physically) you get pregnant again... We're talking Irish twins babey.

~Steve is so excited and you always hear him on the baby monitor and from the other room talking to Rose about her new sibling

~He'll be doing tummy-time with her and just babble on and on about you and how she's going to be a big sister soon

~This time around Steve has "no preference," although from the way he's not buying many new things you can kind of tell he's hoping to use all of Rose's hand-me-downs for the next baby

"Pink could be both genders, y/n" "I know, Stevie, it's just a little suspicious, don't you think?"

~You don't do a gender reveal this time around. It's your second baby and it feels weird to force everyone into doing the whole nine yards less than a year after the last time.

~Instead you and Steve go to the bakery in downtown Hawkins and give them the sealed envelope the doctor wrote the gender in and ask if they'll bake a reveal cake just for the two (three if you count Rose, but she's not quite eating cake yet)

~A few days later the three of you eat dinner, Rose happily babbling away, and bring out the little white cake for dessert

~Steve slides his chair over to your side of the table and you hold the knife together as you cut out a little slice of the pink sponge.

~Immediately Steve whoops and grabs Rose from her spot kissing her forehead and telling her she's going to have a baby sister before turning to you and pressing a kiss onto the top of your head

~If Steve's "Man Friends" weren't grumbling to him before, they sure are now.

~Some of his relatives will call to congratulate you after sending out your pregnancy announcement and when you pass the phone over to Steve and leave while they finish talking he always comes to find you and Rose with a sour look on his face that only softens when he has you both in his arms

~One night when you're laying in bed he finally tells you that they keep telling him his "swimmers" must not be very strong, that he needs to have a boy to carry on the Harrington name, that he's going to be in hot water being outnumbered by all the estrogen in the house

~The second one is the thing that bothers him the most...

"Maybe I don't want to carry on the Harrington name... I'm fine if our branch ends with me"

~You kiss him and tell him that the only people who have any say over how your family runs are you and him and you fall asleep tangled together

~This time around Steve refuses to leave you alone anywhere NEAR your due date.

~You wake up one morning to gentle contractions and don't tell him so he doesn't sweep you to the hospital hours too early only to get sent back home.

~(You do call Dustin, your driver now since Robin moved Chicago, and let him know to be on deck)

~Steve is eying you suspiciously all day, it's Sunday, cleaning day, and what better way to distract yourself than making sure the house will be clean when you bring the new baby home.

~When you keep excusing yourself every so often to have a contraction in the other room Steve finally figures it out and sounds the alarm

~Dustin drives Will, El, and Joyce to your house to watch after Rose, and Max and Lucas are set to relieve them from babysitting duty depending on how long you're gone

~Steve is beside himself with Dustin driving. He insists that you make a mad dash to the hospital but you tell Dustin that he can take his time and that the baby isn't coming out anytime soon.

"Shithead, she needs to get to the hospital NOW!"

"Given that y/n is the one actively giving birth right now, I think I'm going to listen to her and not you, Steve"

~This baby does NOT want to come out.

~It's a rough labour, you spend most of the time either breaking Steve's hand or cursing him, vowing that you'll never let him touch you again

"I hope you're happy with two, Harrington. You'll be lucky if I even let you in the same room as me again"

"I won't even look at you, baby, I swear"

~There's lots of shouting from you, and even more apologies from Steve

"You can do it y/n. You're so strong and beautifu-"

"Really, Steve? I'm really beautiful right now? Fuck off!"

"You've given me two daughters, you're a wonderful wife and moth-"

"Not now, Steven"

"Sorry, baby"

~ At the end of it all, you and Steve get to welcome your youngest into the world: Victoria Alice Harrington

Bonus content:

~You and Steve are sitting on your hospital bed together watching as Torie grabs at his fingers in her sleep...

"Doesn't this just make you want another one?"

"Get out of my bed right now, Harrington"

[radiant-reid]

Beyond Breaking // Chapter One

everything we didn’t want

Summary: All painful heartbreak has to reach a turning point and when emotions are involved, impulsive words are spoken and hasty decisions are made

Content Warning: divorce, allusion to sex, heavily referencing 14x15, Truth or Dare

Word Count: 2.8k

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Photos lie. Usually, they show one happy second. Sometimes it's a split second where a whole family is smiling despite the misery of having to be together.

But the ones littering the hallway of the Reids' townhouse weren't lying. Their smiles and bright eyes showed the beautiful memories they all shared.

And Y/n's attention always drifted to one special one, her favorite one. It was the five of them in The Bahamas, Spencer's first international trip since Mexico. It was real. Those wide smiles were real for two whole weeks.

It was the best hotel Spencer could find, not wanting to compromise for his family more than he already had. There was going to be no more of what he perceived as selfishness when he went to prison.

Y/n never saw it as selfishness, she saw Mexico for what it was: Spencer being the best son in the world. But that didn't mean it didn't change absolutely everything.

Florence hadn't understood any of it. At 1 and a half, she only understood day, night, and daycare. She still babbled about where Daddy was, cried continuously when she couldn't see him, and reached out for him in the photos lining the walls.

Bennett had comprehended more of it. He knew something about Spencer being away for so long was wrong. The then-4-year-old couldn't understand why Daddy couldn't come to his soccer games and pick him up from Pre-K. He didn't know why the book they read together stayed on his bedside table or why his mom couldn't hold it open while his dad read it from somewhere across the country.

Madelaine, unfortunately, had a firmer grasp on the concept of time and had understood that her dad was gone for a lot longer than he usually was. Y/n avoided telling the truth. She wasn't going to break such harsh news to a 6-year-old, but Maddie understood something much worse was wrong, and the little girl was determined to pour her whole heart into each artwork that she sent him.

Y/n found a way to make things better. It was overcompensating on her part, definitely, so much overcompensating all three of her children had new toys, books, clothing, and the occasional day off school.

She struggled the most. She knew she had to, but the impossibly bad situation caused so much pain. Emily's number was on her speed dial and they talked every night, even if the BAU was working on a case with zero sleep or Emily was meant to be out on a date. All she was focused on was getting Spencer out of prison, getting Y/n through him being gone, and putting their lives back on track.

The whole team rallied around the Reids. Rossi, or Krystall if he was away, had them over for dinner every Friday night. JJ was at every soccer game of Maddie and Ben, and they had brunch with her and the Lamontagne boys every Sunday. Morgan picked them up from school some days, so they could hang out with their cousin Hank. Tara hung out lots when she wasn't on cases with the team, spending as much time with the kids as she could. Luke saw them all the time, going to the park with them where they could play on the playground or with Roxy while he and Y/n talked. Penelope was there every day she could be, nothing but smiles and positivity for the kids and emotional support for every break-down Y/n had.

The Bahamas were because of Mexico, the make-up trip to end all of the guilt Spencer had. It was 12 special days in the sunshine with the four people he loved most in the world. He couldn't even hate the beach when they were all there, swimming in the ocean, eating fruit, and spending every moment together. It might have been some people's nightmare, but it was exactly what he dreamed of every night in that horrible place. Whenever the kids went to the kids club, it was just the two of them, like it was when they went on vacations while Y/n was still at the BAU.

Three little Reid kids with tanner skin laying against the white bedsheets, exhausted after each day in the sun, made both Y/n and Spencer's hearts warm. This was what they worked so hard for.

They talked every evening, more words than they had in the months before that, and when there was no more talking, there was cuddling. They had sex, too, so much sex. Like they were making up for all the missed time. There was none of the quick, stress-relieving fucks he had needed months before. Every time he touched her it was so full of adoration and appreciation that she thought it was never going to end.

But it did.

Slowly, all of it faded away, and they were left with the pretty wooden frames, matching the rest of their decor, displaying the moments of joy in the hall.

"Reminiscing?" Spencer's question broke her out of the little happy bubble she was trying to keep herself in.

It was easier to remember the joy in those photos when she didn't have to look at his face. That tired expression should have made her break, but it didn't anymore. Even looking at him, she didn't feel anything but empty. There was no more anger, love, or hurt. There was just hollowness. It wasn't even really Spencer anymore. Just the face of someone she had built a life with. Beautiful, but only externally.

"Something like that." She replied, shrugging but trying not to come off as too hostile. What she didn't need tonight was another argument.

It was an odd question for him to even ask, and she couldn't figure out what possibly would cause him to break the barrier of their current silent agreement to co-exist without speaking to each other.

Their usual greetings of kisses, hugs, and sharing anecdotes from their days had been traded for the silence that dragged two deeply unhappy people who fell out of love with each other in.

As she put her things on her home desk, she could feel Spencer's eyes on her, and it annoyed her more than it should have. Holding it together was becoming more and more difficult, and Y/n ran her hand through her hair in an attempt not to snap at him as she walked down further down the hall and towards the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" She asked before she could stop herself, opening the fridge to find something to eat. After hours of being at work- all of them to avoid Spencer- she was starving.

It really didn't make any sense for him to be there. Not when they were only putting on an act while the kids were awake. But there he sat: on the stool at the kitchen island. So far away from her but right in front of her.

Spencer scoffed, looking up from his phone which he usually never used. "I live here."

"Not really, though." She countered, raising her eyebrows like it was an attempt for him to challenge her.

"This?" He asked. "Are we really going to do this?" His frustration was coming out at the fact they had this conversation almost every time they saw each without the kids there. The exchange of snide remarks was exhausting.

Y/n didn't know how many more times she could explain it in a way he might understand. "No." She was too tired to try. There wasn't even any point in trying.

"Good." He agreed, irritating her even more, but he couldn't stop. "Because I do live here."

She should have known, the decade ago they got into a relationship, that Spencer's stubbornness would be their downfall. "Well, maybe you shouldn't." She firmly stated, turning the tap on and filling up a glass of water.

The rest of the bench was messy. The rest of the house was messy, actually. It was hard not to be with three young kids, barely-there Spencer, and less-and-less-there Y/n. There were books, homework projects, coloring pencils, stuffed toys, part of a train set, and two hoodies just in her eye line. The chaos was her and the kids, but it wasn't Spencer.

"Is that what you want?" He asked, and her eyes drifted back to him. It was such a simple way of asking a question that would change their lives.

When they got married, she couldn't imagine they would ever be here. Back then, she would have screamed and cried at the pain of her heart breaking, but today she couldn't feel anything but indifference.

And she didn't hesitate with her answer, not taking a moment to look into his eyes and remember when she used to love him more than anything else. "Yes." Her fingers didn't even tighten around the glass as she set it down on the countertop and her heart didn't crack like she thought it would. When she looked up at him, there was no change in his eyes, although, he was too good at hiding it for her to notice if there was. "What do you think?"

"You usually don't care about what I feel." Spencer shot back, holding eye contact with her like he had been challenged.

"Seriously?" She asked dryly, throwing her arms up in the air. "I just asked you what you think. Whether I care or not doesn't matter, just answer the question." He rolled his eyes, earning a degree of rage in her that no one else could. "Fine. Don't answer because I don't really care."

"Mm, sure." He replied sarcastically, not believing what she was telling him.

It was the truth, and the fact he didn't accept it infuriated her. Even though he was asking her to explain exactly how much she didn't care about him, she was determined to take the high road. "God, you're insufferable." She huffed.

"Real mature." He huffed back.

"It is not my fault you can never tell me what you think." She replied, throwing her arms up in the air to show him her frustration. "I cannot keep tolerating your attitude." It was like she was trying to stop Florence from screaming when she wanted ice cream for breakfast. Dealing with her husband took more patience than dealing with their three-year-old.

He screwed up his nose. They'd been here before far too many times. Too many times for it to continue. "You don't deal with it. You come home, avoid talking to me, and act like nothing fucking happened!"

That made her snap, eyes darkening further. Her grip against the kitchen countertop was so strong it was turning her knuckles white. "Something did fucking happen, though, didn't it!?" She yelled back, feeling the tears prick just at the memory. The anger was all-consuming, and it wasn't close to going away. "I'm only pretending for them." Their three perfect children, who didn't know a fraction of the things their parents were feeling. That was how it was supposed to be, but Y/n could only keep up their appearances for so long. "You would have been gone as soon as you got back from LA if it weren't for them."

"Oh, and I'm so grateful that I have to stay here." He complained sarcastically, a pout accentuating the pink of his lips.

She took a moment to breathe, not wanting to scream at him for his ungratefulness. There was something so wrong about the fact he couldn't see how much she did for their family and a lot more for their marriage. "Do you want to stay here? So I can scream at you once they're all at school for what happened in LA?" She demanded.

"It's not a big de-"

That was the one thing he hadn't gone as far as to say. Before tonight, he knew it was too much.

"Shut the fuck up!" Y/n ordered, standing her ground in the kitchen. It was remarkable how far they'd fallen in just a few months. "How would you feel if Derek suddenly declared he was in love with me?" Her voice cracked quietly enough for him not to notice, and she held blinked back hot tears in her eyes.

"That's not the same!" Spencer shouted back. There was something possessive in his tone while he refused to answer the question.

She clenched her fists in her hand, resisting the urge to throw the glass across the room. "Yes, it is! She was my best friend, and you're supposed to be my husband. How can you be so goddamn dismissive of this?" There was so little air in the room that she felt like she was suffocating.

"She said it to save our lives! For you and Will and our kids!" He tried to reason, knowing she couldn't understand it when she hadn't been there. "What Will went through was worse, and he's fine. Why aren't you? LA didn't even change what was going on with us! You're just trying to pin it all on me." The hole he was digging himself into was deep, but he only doubled down with those few spiteful statements.

"Aren't you adult enough to admit it?" She asked, voice lowering again in a faux calm state. All she needed to do was get the conversation over and go to bed to cry.

Spencer huffed, running a hand through his messy curls and tugging out the ends like he always did when he was furious. "Fine. LA changed us. It was the final nail in the coffin. You can't get over it, so we're not going to be able to move on."

"Do you actually understand how much that shit hurt, Spencer?" She questioned, so much sadness present in her tone. For weeks she'd cried over the pain of the betrayal and Spencer's ruthless attitude about it. There had been none of the comforts she was used to with him, the comfort that defined him. "You like facts, so think about this; I came to the team when JJ left, we started our relationship when she fucked you over with Emily, and we got engaged after she got married. It's always been about me compared to her, I just haven't seen it until now."

"You're trying to make it about me and her, and it's not!" He yelled, pushing more of his curls back. "This is about the problems we have had for months. Since prison. You never forgave me for that, and you never will which is why there is no point in continuing this."

With shaking fingers, she took her wedding and engagement ring off, sliding them across the bench to him. Why she had been wearing it for so long, she didn't know. Maybe the memories of all the years between them stopped her from giving up.

This was their end.

"I agree." She nodded. "But you should be giving me a lot more credit for everything I had to do after your poor decisions."

He wasn't ready to defend that to her, not when he was so furious and the grief was still eating him alive. "I'm done." Spencer declared, getting up from his seat. The rings lay abandoned on the cold marble countertop.

Y/n hadn't noticed the suitcase he had sitting by the door, but it was like he was waiting to pick this fight so he could finally be finished with their family.

She didn't want everything between them to always be so difficult and toxic. Fights shouldn't end in sex before sleeping in different bedrooms or days of silence. It was never ever meant to be like this. They were meant to be communicating like they vowed to do.

Not once did she think about stopping him before he went out the front door because it wasn't a movie, it was real life, and it sucked. And Spencer sucked, and all the love she used to feel for him was quickly turning to hatred.

Even once the door locked, her mouth stayed wide open at the shock of it all. Somehow, it was shocking and expected, but it left her with an emptiness inside her.

The loud anger didn't give her the opportunity to feel anything else about the situation. Y/n was mad at him, she knew that, but over the noise, she couldn't determine if she was scared, upset, or relieved.

She just felt empty.

The tears started streaming down her cheeks before she was consciously crying, no doubt leaving a track of black mascara. But she did what she had conditioned herself to do- what Spencer had forced her to learn to do,- wiped them up and tidied up some of the mess in the house before going to bed and trying to sleep.

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[bus-ghoul]

Stranger Things Femslash Week

Sunday, April 16 - Free Choice

@strangerthingsfemslashweek

A Ronance drabble, in which Robin is not a morning person.

Robin has always been a deep sleeper.

Her mom would complain about how getting her to get out of bed, ready for school and out the door was a herculean effort.

Without an alarm, parental yelling or a nightmare to speed things up, Robin wakes up slowly. The build up to complete consciousness like swimming through treacle.

Right now, she's starting to wake because of light streaming into the room.

This registers as more of a feeling than an observation, a dim frustration with herself for not closing the blinds and curtains to her cave-room.

The next thing she feels is the weight of an arm across her midsection, not her own. Skin to skin.

Unusual, but not unheard of. Doesn't register as anything that would force her heavy brain to kick into gear any quicker. Robin has fallen asleep in dog piles over the months of running around dealing with supernatural shit. It's most likely Steve, and when she's fully alert she'll shove him away and beg him to just get a girlfriend and stop cuddling up to her, it's embarrassing.

A sound comes from the person the arm belongs to that sounds distinctly not like Steve and Robin vaguely registers the daintiness of the body next to her as Nancy.

Nancy... Robin ruminates, trying to remember last night.

Nancy calling and inviting her over late. Nancy's head facing hers on the cushion after they switched the lights off. Nancy's eyes closing as she leaned in. Nancy's hands on her... Robins hands on Nancy...Nancy's hand under the waistband of her shorts...

Robin feels her heart skip as her mind catches up.

She had a sex dream about her straight female friend, her only female friend, while they shared a bed. The shame rushes her body and she feels herself flush.

Nancy is clearly is unaware or they wouldn't be cuddled up right now... but Robin knows herself, and her embarrassments have a way of revealing themselves, and while she's still groggy she is at high risk of being a fucking idiot.

She peeks her eyes open, and sees Nancy, already awake, looking back at her.

"Good morning" Nancy whispers and her smile makes Robin forget why she's paralyzed with nerves for a second.

Sensing something is wrong in the blank panicked stare she gets in response, Nancy pulls back and shrugs the comforter up her chest.

"Is it... you don't... Robin I'm so sorry, I thought..."

Robin is not used to Nancy babbling and it's not helping her anxiety.

"What?" She blurts, accidentally harsh, with her heart thudding so loudly she's sure they should both be able to hear it.

Nancy straightens and looks at her in the eyes, jaw set.

"Do you regret it?" She asks calmly.

Robin gapes at her in confusion, willing herself to just shake the fog enough to speak.

"For the record, I don't" Nancy adds pointedly.

It isn't until this point that Robin takes in some further context.

Nancy's hair looks crazy.

Her shoulders are bare above where she's holding the blanket.

There's a light pink bruise under her jaw and a darker one on her neck.

Robin herself, she realises, is ass naked.

She also kind of aches all over, but in a kind of awesome way.

"Oh thank god."

She's laughing and pulling Nancy close and Nancy is smiling and confused and laughing with her.

"What the hell!?" Nancy admonishes, pushing Robin down by her shoulders "I felt like was about to throw up!".

Robin only laughs harder.

"I'm sorry," she gasps "I thought I dreamt it and I was about to have a panic attack". She wipes her eyes. "Oh my god".

"But we're..." Nancy gestures to Robin's now exposed chest which makes them giggle even more. "Did that not strike you as odd?"

"This is why you're going to college to be a fancy investigative journalist and I'm looking for somewhere new to sling ice-cream Nance. "

"Shut up." Nancy grins and their lips are touching but they both can't stop smiling, Robin isn't even sure it counts as a kiss but god it's perfect.

Robin reaches up to hold Nancy's face in both hands. "When I'm not comatose," she begins, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you 100 questions".

Nancy touches their foreheads together and their eyes are closed but Robin feels Nancy's face smiling.

"We have time."