#when she waits for me to hold the door open for her.

[eddiesxangel]

She Said Fuck Me Like I’m Famous (I Said Okay) | E.M

WC: 5.9k

Cw: fem!popstar!reader, modern au, fluff, smut, dirty talk, kinda Dom Eddie, oral (m & f), p in v, reader is on bc, creampies.

Summary: when you invite your online bestie over to spend the week with you for the first time, you don’t know what to expect when her over protective friends tag along

Meeting Robin was a happy accident that life sometimes throws at you. Even though she was a stranger on the other side of the country, she was one of the most genuine friends you could have ever asked for. It all started slowly. You had both been on the same Discord server because of your mutual love for an author, and things went from there. After almost three years of friendship, you finally decided to meet in person!

You guys organized everything. She was flying to California and staying with you in your two-bedroom apartment for a little over a week. You had so much planned for the both of you, especially over the weekend, because it just so happened you were also to perform at this year’s Coachella.

It was your first big performance at a festival like this. It would do wonders for your career and hopefully bring you new fans.

Robin was your biggest supporter. She was so excited to see you perform live for the first time, not to mention the VIP passes you had promised her. It was hard to seek out genuine friendships in the line of work that you do. Everyone wants something, so you didn’t disclose your real name and what you did until you could trust her entirely. Robin was one of those people who you couldn't help but love; her bubbly personality and heart of gold were something you latched onto.

You were not taken aback upon receiving a text from Robin informing you that her two extremely protective male friends were adamant about accompanying her to ensure her safety. She had previously mentioned them, and from what she shared, they come across as genuinely great guys. Their concern for their friend's well-being is commendable, and you appreciate their commitment to looking out for her.

She also told you that the guys would rather stay in a hotel with her, but if they felt comfortable, they didn’t mind if she stayed with you for the rest of the week. You weren’t offended. It was unbelievable that you invited someone you’d never met into your home. Still, she was one of your closest confidants, even though you’ve never seen one another in person, primarily through texting and FaceTime.

-

The day was finally here, and you let Robin know that your assistant would pick the three of them up at the airport because you were in rehearsals until 2:00 p.m.

“See, Rob, this is exactly why we came with you!” Steve pointed at the text message as she read it out loud.

“What do you mean?” Robin asked with a scowl.

“She is sending a random person to pick us up? We are about to be human trafficked for all we know!”

Robin rolled her eyes and hiked up her carry-on over her shoulder.

“Men… so dramatic.” She whispered under her breath.

The three wandered down the corridor until they saw a small woman about 5'1" with a bright smile holding a sign that read ‘ Birdie + 2.’

That was cute; you used her Discord name.

“Oh, yes. Here is the woman who’s going to kidnap us,” she jesters, and the two men can’t help but roll their eyes.

“Hi! Are you Kelsey?” Robin approached the woman who she towered over.

“Yes, Hi! If you want to come with me, the car is waiting. She’s so excited you’re finally here; it’s all she’s been talking about.”

Kelsey opened the door for the three friends to get in and made her way to the driver’s seat.

-

It’s been a long wait, but your rehearsal wrapped up right on schedule. You made sure because you didn’t want to waste any time. You’ve been so antsy all day, waiting to go home and meet your best friend for the first time. You were so nervous; what if she thought you were annoying? What if the paparazzi ruined her time here? On your way home, the what-ifs circled your mind, but you tried to shake that all away when you got the text from Kelsey that they made it safely and were on their way to the hotel to drop off their things. Then she would bring them over to your apartment.

The minutes tick by as you wait for them in your apartment. You double-check the fridge to make sure you have refreshments and snacks. They must be tired and hungry from the flight.

Your manicured fingernails tap the cold marble countertop in your kitchen as you nervously scroll your phone, trying to distract yourself until the condo buzzer startles you. You run over and answer the speaker, telling them to come on up.

You anxiously count the seconds as you wait for them to approach the door. When the elevator bell dings on your floor, 17 stories up, you open the door eagerly to see Kelsey get off first.

You’re bouncing on your toes as you half-heartedly skip through the hallway, cheering as you see the freckled-faced girl enter the corridor.

“Birdie!” You clap, jump, and run to her with a smile so big your cheeks burn.

Cheers and squeals fill the small space as you take one another in your arms. If the people surrounding you had known better, your embrace would have made it look like you were lovers.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here!”

"I can't believe you're real." You step back to look at her in full. Finally, after all this time, you are united with your bestie. You tell one another everything. Robin confided in you about how she likes girls, and you said you were so scared that you're not good enough to be here. The imposter syndrome was extreme, but she put your mind at ease.

One of the men behind Robin had cleared their throat, reminding the both of you that they were also there.

“Oh my god, sorry.” Robin jumps.

“This is Steve, and this is Eddie.” Robin steps out of your way, and your gaze falls on the two handsome men standing behind her. Your heart flutters a bit, taking in both of them.

Steve and Eddie were complete opposites in their style. Steve had a preppy look, with a soft smile and gentle, kind eyes that reflected his warm personality. In contrast, Eddie's style was edgy and tough, but his eyes were surprisingly kind and strikingly beautiful, hinting at a depth beyond his tough exterior.

“Hi, I’m y/n, but you can call me Bunnie.” You stuck out your hand to introduce yourself.

“Damn, kinda disappointed you’re real; I had 50 bucks going that you were catfishing Rob this whole time,” Steve giggled as you shook his hand.

“Shut up,” Robin rolled her eyes.

“Me? A catfish? Never,” you giggled.

You moved to Eddie, and he stood there wide-eyed as he tried to speak, say hello, hi, or something, but he felt like his tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth. There was no way you were real. There's no way you were this pretty in real life. There was no way Robin was friends with a celebrity.

Unsurprisingly, Eddie had no idea who you were when Robin told him and Steve she was coming out to see you. However, Steve’s reaction made it seem like you were a big deal, so he googled you and looked at your Instagram beforehand. Never in his life did he see someone so beautiful. The attraction was instant, but now, seeing you in person, there was no denying his inevitable crush on you.

Eddie finally managed to choke out a “hi.” His cheeks heated up as his voice cracked like he was 12 again.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you smile but quickly turn to Robin.

“Come,” you say, linking your arm with hers as you return to your condo.

“Thanks for letting us tag along with Birdie here,” Steve smiled.

After the initial excitement, you had all settled down. You were lounging on your balcony, eating and drinking to your heart's content.

“No problem, the more the merrier,” you smile.

Robin had told you about her friends back home; you also felt like you strangely knew them.

“What do you guys want to do first? Eddie, any suggestions?” You ask, singling him out.

Eddie hardly knew what to say. It was as if his brain had stopped functioning when you spoke to him. He wanted to woo and get to know you and hoped and prayed that you were as good of a person as Robin raved you to be.

“W-what?" He stuttered and looked at you wide-eyed. "Uh, I'm not sure. What do you have in mind?”

Without a beat, you rambled off the list of activities you had in mind, and Eddie listened so intently to everything; he would go anywhere as long as he was in your company.

“He, man, help me get some more drinks,” Steve said, nudging Eddie’s knee.

“No, please, you’re my guest. Allow me.” You got to stand, but Steve insists.

“Take advantage, let them dote on us.” Robin giggled.

“Dude, you’re really into her, aren’t you?” Steve smirked once the two men were back inside and out of earshot.

“How could I not be? Hello, she’s like the perfect woman,” Eddie half whispered.

Eddie took you in one more time through the sliding glass door. Not only was your style darker and edgy, but you’re witty and funny and don’t seem too vapid for a Hollywood star. He had a preconceived notion about Hollywood starlets; however, you seemed so down to earth, and you loved talking music with him; even if you are a pop star, you know your shit when it came to writing and playing guitar.

“You should ask her out this week and see what happens.”

“No, she’s not into me.”

“Maybe not yet? But how could she not be? You’re a catch. You gotta be yourself; you’re too in your head right now. Just think of her as an extension of Robin.”

“An extension of Robin?”

“They’re practically the same person; just don’t think about how hot she is.”

That’s easy for you to say.” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“How?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re King Steve, Steve 'the hair' Harrington, and you know how to flirt with girls.”

“So do you.”

“Not girls like that!” He points towards you and Robin, oblivious to the conversation, gabbing away about who knows what.

“You’re telling me that a girl who looks like that isn’t going to be attracted to a guy who looks like you? “ he raised a brow.

“I don’t know?” Eddie shrugged.

“Nah, dude, you’re being too hard on yourself. Listen to me, be yourself, and see what happens.”

“Okay,” he sighed, bringing the drinks out for you and Robin.

As the night wore on, Eddie became more confident speaking to you and less intimidated after the talk with Steve in the kitchen. When the night ended, you were all disappointed to say goodbye but excited about what tomorrow would bring.

-

The past few days have been absolutely hectic. Rehearsals for the upcoming show have consumed your mornings, followed by afternoons filled with various outings. It's a whirlwind from sound check to meeting up with your guests at their hotel or wherever they are.

Eddie’s crush was starting to take over his mind. Every night before he went to sleep, he thought about you and watched videos of you. He even went so far as to put your name on YouTube and “cute moments” afterwards.

Nothing could stop Eddie from getting you off his mind. He was so excited when you gave him your number, even if he was too nervous to text you. His excitement doubled when you followed him on Instagram, and he spastically went through all his posts to make sure nothing was embarrassing.

Today, you went to the beach. A relaxing day was much needed after your hectic schedule of rehearsals and entertaining your guests over the past few days.

You arrive to see your new friends secured a great spot by the water's edge. Robin is lying under the umbrella while the boys wrestle in the water.

“Is Eddie single?” you ask after settling down with Robin on the sand.

“The most chronically single person I’ve ever met; dude hasn’t been in a relationship since he confessed his love for a cheerleader in high school, and I wouldn’t even count that as a girlfriend.”

You stop and ponder this newfound information as you watch him from afar. As you observe him splashing around, you see him in a new light. He is lean but has some muscle. His various tattoos and how he looks in a bathing suit is giving you butterflies.

“What’s wrong with him?” You ask nervously.

“Nothing is wrong with him; he’s just… I don’t know how to explain it. The girls in our town aren’t into guys who look or act like Eddie. They’re all stuck up, snooty rich kids, you know? And Eddie has had it rough; he grew up on the poorer side of town and his parents. His uncle raised him, so everyone looked down at him.” Robin sighed, hating the way life had treated her friend.

“Trust me, I know about stuck-up assholes. I live in their capital.” You snort.

“So why are you asking about Ed? Any particular reason?” Robin peaks at you from under her sunglasses. ”

“He seems different from the guys in L. A” You twiddle with the strings on your bikini bottoms.

“Well, I know he has a big fat crush on you.”

“Really?” Your face lit up, giving away your motive for conversation.

“Seems like you do, too girl friend.” She nudged you, and you tried to hide your face under your beach towel.

“Ooooooooooo Bunnie has a crush on Eddie the Freak.” Robin teased.

“What did he do to earn that title?”

“There are many rumours; I’m sure you’ll find out soon.” She wiggled her brows suggestively.

Robins’s innuendo had you giggling so hard that you almost started crying.

You pulled Eddie’s attention when he heard your angelic laugh. Eddie stood distracted by watching you lay out with Robin, your tattoos on display, more than he had seen initially. Your teeny black-and-white bikini was a sight for soar eyes, being stuck with Steve all day and night. With the sudden distraction, Steve had the opportunity to body-slam Eddie into the ocean.

Eddie’s audible “oof” was heard, and before Eddie knew it, he was gasping for air. When he finally got his bearing straight, he saw you looking over, concerned at the two men, then gave a slight wave to ensure he was okay.

“Playtimes over, Harrington,” Eddie shoved Steve off of him.

“Oh, I think it’s just beginning for you, Munson.”

The two men exited the water looking too hot for their own good, like some personal Baywatch episode was coming at you in 3D.

“Like what you see?” Eddie smirked at you as they both approached the both of you.

“Absolutely.” You squint up at him, the sun catching your eyes.

Eddie plopped beside you and shook his head like a dog getting ocean water all over you.

You squeak at how cold the water is.

“Oh, sorry, Bunnie, let me get that for you.” He smirks.

He brushes the water from your face with his towel.

Oh, he knows what he is doing.

Your skin deceived you as the goosebumps arose when Eddie touched your face.

“You cold, Bunnie?” Eddie noticed and pulled you in with him as he wrapped his towel around the both of you. Your bare back pressing against his cold, damp chest wasn’t helping, but hell, you were not about to start complaining.

“Thanks”

Robin gives you a pointed look, then immediately grabs Steve’s hand to yank him up.

“Come, we are getting food.”

Steve leaves without protest, seeing what Robin sees- that you and Eddie should have some alone time.

“So a little Birdie told me you have a reputation back home.” You were leaning up against Eddie’s chest, basking in the sun.

“Oh, did she, now? And what might that be.”

“that you’re a little freaky,” you giggle.

“You sure you want to know about th-"

“Oh my god! It is you! Oh my god, I love you. Can I please get a picture with you?” A girl not much younger than yourself, clearly a fan of yours, looks down at you, and Eddie is cuddled up.

Without missing a beat, you get up and greet the fan.

“Can you take our picture?” She gives her phone to Eddie before he even agrees that he’s getting up to help.

You give him an apologetic look. This was not the kind of day he signed up for.

You pose with the fan and talk with her briefly before she asks, “ Is that your boyfriend?”

You look over your shoulder to see Eddie again sitting under the umbrella.

“No, no, he’s a friend,” you smile.

“Too bad, you guys would be a cute couple.”

You entertain her only a few more minutes before she leaves.

“Sorry about that.” You sit back down beside Eddie.

“That’s okay, I get it. You’re famous and all.” He smiles.

“I’m not that famous,” you sigh.

“Don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart.”

“Well, maybe…” you shrug.

“You have strangers coming up to you complimenting your work; that’s sick as fuck if you ask me.”

“It's something I’ll never get used to.”

“Tell me more what it’s like?”

“What? Having a fan approach me?”

“Yea. I guess being a famous rockstar was all I ever dreamed of until a few years ago when I realized it wouldn’t be in the cards for me.

“What if it could be?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a crazy idea.”

-

Pictures of you and a “Mystery guy” were planted all over the tabloids the following day. Of course, no one stopped to take a photo when it was just you and Robin or the four of you sitting on the beach.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into my crazy.” You apologized while you were all out to dinner. Eddie was sat directly beside you.

“I think I like crazy,” he smirked and gently touched your knee.

You tried to hide your bashful smile while playing with the stem of your martini glass.

Robin and Steve instantly locked in on the chemistry between you. They tried to look at one another subtly, but you caught it.

“What are you guys up to?” You ask.

“Nothing,” Robin laughs, but Steve isn’t shy about the topic.

“You guys are cute,” he smirks into the glass before sipping the golden bubbly liquid.

“Steve!” You squeak.

“I agree,” Robin concurred.

You wanted to agree with them, but you hardly knew Eddie, but you yearned to know everything about him. The more time you spend with this group, the more you don’t want them to leave. You can’t imagine how it will be once they go home next week. You would kill for them to spend more time with, especially Robin and your newfound crush, Eddie.

-

As the sun sets on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Coachella stage, you feel the nervous excitement building inside you. In just five minutes, it would be your turn to shine. Every move, every step, every beat was etched into your mind. You had rehearsed and memorized everything, from the choreography to the cues. The anticipation was palpable as you prepared to take the stage. Eddie Robin and Steve were set up in the VIP section, and you had an excellent sightline. You felt the cheers from the crowd pulsing through your veins as you stepped under the spotlight.

“She’s incredible!” Robin cheered.

“I had no idea she could sing like that!” Steve was in shock.

“What do you think, Eddie?” Robin turns, but her friend is nowhere in sight. “Ed? Hey, where is Eddie?”

Steve looks around, and he has no idea.

“Maybe he had to take a leak or something?”

Unbeknownst to them, you had a little surprise for your friends.

“How are we feeling tonight!?” You ask the crowd from centre stage.

The crowd roared in response.

“I said, “How are we feeling tonight? “ you ask again, and the crowd cheers as loud as possible.

“Very good, Coachella! I’m so grateful for you guys having me! this is a crucial moment in my career, a highlight, really.” You paced the stage.

“I’m so grateful for you guys to take time out of your day to come out and see me. It means more to me than you ever know! You guys make me feel like a rockstar!”

The crowd cheers again, even louder, and you can’t seem to break the smile off your face.

“Now, before we get this party started, I need you guys to give a warm welcome to a new friend of mine.” You look over to the side stage and wave a hand.

“Everyone, put your hands together for this rockstar! The best guitarist I’ve ever encountered! Give it up for Eddie Munson!” The crowd cheers as you ask them to, and you swear you hear Steve and Robin above all else.

Eddie cannot believe he is standing on stage in front of a crowd with thousands of people in California instead of 6 drunks in Hawkins, Indiana.

Eddie never imagined this opportunity would come to him, but here he was as if a magical being had granted him one wish in life.

When you looked at Eddie, a smile spread across your face, etched into his memory forever. Eddie looked so hot that you couldn’t help but rake your eyes up and down, taking him in. He wore his black ripped jeans, boots, and denim vest, showcasing his many tattoos.

The way you looked tonight was so beautiful. Eddie didn’t think he could make it through the three songs he’s rehearsed with you over the last two days.

Your music wasn’t Eddie’s usual genre. However, it wasn’t as bubblegum pop as he expected. He appreciated many rock elements and would be an idiot to pass up this opportunity.

“Okay, let’s rock!” And Eddie started the first riff of the second half of the setlist.

The crowd was electric, and Eddie’s heart felt like it would pound out of his chest, especially when it came to the guitar solo he absolutely nailed.

“Thank you, Coachella! Goodnight!” The roar of the crowd doesn't die down.

You grab Eddie by the hand and run off stage. As you make it to the stage, Eddie wraps you in a high so tight it takes your breath away.

“That was incredible! Unbelievable!” Eddie howled in excitement. “I can’t believe that just happened!”

“It’s incredible, isn’t it!” You smile.

“Yes! God, I could kiss you!”

“Who is stopping you?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline or perhaps it was the fact that Eddie would be leaving soon, but you wanted it so bad that you threw all caution to the wind.

“What?” Eddie’s eyes winded.

“Kiss me, rockstar. I know you want to.”

You pulled Eddie in by the guitar strap, and your lips connected. The moment his plump lips made contact with your deep cherry-cola-coloured ones, you knew this was something more than physical attraction. You haven’t felt a kiss like this in a very long time. The both of you pull away regretfully, but you are standing in the middle of backstage, and techs and roadies are running all over the place; you can’t just make out with Eddie here.

“Come home with me to my place tonight? You ask bravely.

Eddie quickly nods his head, at a loss for words.

“Okay,”

-

Nothing could top this moment for Eddie. It was you and him alone for the first time. He was in your bedroom, and the height he was feeling was too much to contain. Eddie pulled you in closer, his lips crashing into yours harder as his hands grabbed the silver material of your mini dress. He pushed you up against the wall, and you felt his tight hold on your body. His hard body pressed up against yours, and the only thing separating you was four layers of thin cloth dawning you and Eddie.

“Fuck you’re so hot.” You moan.

Eddie’s head spun at your confession. You thought he was hot. You, the girl who made all of his wildest dreams come true and then some.

“I want you,” you mumble into his lips.

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice before his hand travelled up between the soft skin of your plush thighs.

The way your skin felt under his fingertips makes you shiver. Slowly, his callused tips found their way to the cloth of your soaked panties.

Eddie moaned into you as his kiss trailed down the side of your jaw to your neck, catching that sweet spot that makes your pussy weep.

Eddie’s fingers delicately stroke up and down your slit like he would break you, but you need more. You can’t help your hips rock back and forth into his touch.

Eddie didn’t think he would end up with a pop star grinding into his hand when he planned his trip to Cali with his friend, but he wasn’t complaining. He would be happy if this was the furthest the two of you got.

“More,” You plead, and your hand wiggles its way between the two of you to stroke his already hardening cock.

Eddie buckles his hips into your hand unwillingly, but the feeling of your hand on his cock had him acting on instinct. The two of you dry-humping one another against the wall wasn’t enough.

“Need you, want you so bad,” Eddie confesses.

You push up off the wall and drag Eddie to your bed. You push him back with a giggle, then fall to your knees before him.

“Holy shit,” he whispers under his breath. Your gaze meets Eddie, and it’s like a siren is looking back up at him, ready to drown him with your lust.

You quickly unbuckle and unbutton and unzip everything containing Eddie’s bulge from you, and you’re pleasantly surprised when you finally unwrap him. His tip was already crying for your touch, so red and shiny due to the precum that had been leaking ever since you kissed him when you both got off stage. His long, thick shaft taunted you as if it might not be able to fit.

“Want to teach me why they call you Eddie the Freak?” You smirk.

“Fuck Bunnie, you don’t know what you’re asking for. "

“That’s why I’m asking, big boy.”

You don’t give Eddie a chance to respond before wrapping your warm lips around his fat tip.

“Yes, sweetheart, right there,” he draws out his words as you take him in further.

His hands grip the roots of your hair, pulling them taught as your mouth takes him to the back of your throat.

“Oh god,” He moans again. The way your mouth feels around his cock is making him want to thrust up into you, but he holds back for your sake. He knows you asked him to share why he’s called the freak, but he’s not ready to scare you away with his kinks, not yet.

“Fuck baby, you’re so big” You pull off and replace your mouth with your hand so you can catch your breath. Your lung capacity may be suitable for singing, but you can only hold so much breath.

“You think so, pretty girl?” Eddie brushed a fallen piece of hair from your face, and you swore you had never been so hot and bothered.

You bite your bottom lip and try to grind yourself on your heels for any source of friction as you take him back in your mouth. His taste was addictive, and so was the way he was looking down at you with a look in his eyes that made you feel so wanted.

“Such good girl; you like being on your knees for me?”

You nod your head and hum on his cock in a reference, and that makes Eddie’s head spin. The way your mouth is sending vibrations through him has him pulling you up off of him because he would end the night early if you keep that up.

You giggle as he switches your positions and strips himself. Your head hits your pillows, and you sink into the plush mattress.

“You’re wearing too many clothes," Eddie smirks as his hands find the hem of your dress, pushing it up, up, up, until it meets the lower part of your breasts. Then you take over, folding the fabric over your head.

“Fuuuuuuuuck” Eddie draws out before letting his head fall between them. He presses his face into your chest, kissing and sucking on your tits before he finally takes one nipple into his mouth.

“Tonight should be all about you, Sweetheart.” he nips at your sensitive skin.

“Should worship you like you deserve.”

A low main leaves your throat before Eddie dips down to discard your sodden panties. Finally, he has you where he wants; needy for him and naked.

“Knew you’d have sucha’ pretty pussy, Bunnie.”

“Edddieee” you cry; it’s pathetic how riled up you’ve become.

“Don’t be a brat now,” he warns, but that only makes your pussy throb even more than it has been.

You’re dying to be touched; you craved him so badly that you couldn’t stand it.

Eddie’s mouth dips down to your lower stomach, long drawn-out mouth kisses trailing along your skin around your mound, your under thighs. His teeth nipped and bit at your tender flesh, not breaking the skin but enough to mark you up, to claim you as his own.

“Eddie, please, baby, touch me.” You ask as you stroke the fallen hair out of his face.

“Asking so nicely, good girl.” He purrs.

You can’t help but let out a long sigh as Eddie's tongue makes contact with your swollen bundle of overly sensitive nerves.

He tasers you fully as the flat of his tongue drags itself over your slit. Your slick coats itself on his lips and chin as he sends a rush of pleasure through your veins.

Eddie, the Freak Munson, should be renamed to Eddie the Munch for the irresistible way he’s eating you out. His hands push your inner thighs wider so he has more of you to consume. Your exposed pussy calls to him as he eats you like he’s enjoying it more than you are. He wants you to cum all over his mouth.

Eddie lifts his head and replaces his mouth with his fingers as he pushes up inside of your pussy while massaging your clit with his thumb.

“I know you’re close, baby; give it to me. I need to know how you taste coming on my tongue.”

His dirty words had your head spinning and your core tightening. He was right; you were so close, you wanted- no, you needed to come.

“Please, please, please,” you begged for him to let you have the wave of pleasure wash over your body.

Eddie had you right where he needed you, in the sweet spot of being so desperate that you’d agree to anything he asked. He loved being in control this way; he loved wanting to feel powerful but also loved how much you trusted him to do so.

But what Eddie loved most of all was how you were about to cum all over his face; he loves pussy so much he can’t get enough of it, so he dips back down and has you cumming on his tongue as he pushed it up into your hole and didn’t let up as his thumb rubbed on your clit.

He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice before wanting to get to the best part.

“Did so good baby, you taste so good. I know you got one more in you for me.”

You can’t even speak; the way he just made you come so quickly, one after another, was mind-blowing.

“Want to teach me why they call you Bunnie?” Eddie mocks as he pulls you up to switch positions.

How were you to ride him after all that?

“Fuck Eddie, I don’t know if I can; my legs are like jello,” you giggle.

“I believe in you, baby,” he creases your ass as you align yourself over his cock.

“Wait, do you have a condom?” He stops you.

“I’m on birth control” You slowly rub your pussy over his shaft, teasing the head at your entrance, threatening to put it in.

“Shiiiiiit” Eddie’s head goes back. “You want to be my little Bunny? Hop on it raw?”

“Mmmmmmm, yes,” you hum as your hips rock back and forth.

“Fuck okay, okay.” And before the second okay is out of Eddie’s mouth, you’re already sinking on his cock. It feels so good that he stretches you until your hips are connected to the bottom.

The only thing filling the room was the sounds of skin slapping skin and the moans coming from each of your mouths. His hands roam your body, exploring the swell of your breasts, your nipples, down around your hips, your back and your ass giving it a tight squeeze.

“Fuck, that’s it. You’re such a good Bunny, bouncing and taking my cock so well.”

“So big.” Your legs were already burning as you worked yourself up and down on his body.

“You going to cum like that, huh?” His hips match your rhythm, and you work together to create the perfect pace.

“That’s my girl, that’s my girl, that’s my girl,” he chants like a prayer as your pussy clenches down on Eddie’s cock, making that your third orgasm of the evening. Your body shutters as your orgasm takes over you, the icing on the cake of the day you’ve had today.

“I’m close. Where do you want it.”

“In me, cum in me, please.”

“Fuck, you sure?”

“Yes!” You had stopped bouncing me, but Edie had you held in place as he fucked his hips up into you.

You can feel his balls slapping your ass and his cock twitching so deeply inside you that tiny ripples of post-orgasm spasms are still running through you.

With a grunt, Eddie collapses, and you fall on top of him. Your hot bodies pressed together, chests heaving, breathing in one another.

“Hey, you wanna stay?” You tentatively as as you curl up next to him.

“Sure baby, I can spend the night”

“No no-well yea, but no…I mean here in California… you can join the band” you bite your lip.

“You-you want me to join your band?”

You nod your head slowly.

“Woah…”

“I know it’s crazy! But you’re so good, and you love it. It wouldn't be exactly what you want, but it also puts your foot in the door, and I kind of don’t want you to leave.” You blab.

“All I heard was you don’t want me to leave, Eddie teases.

“I’m serious,” you playfully swat his chest.

“I’m going to have to call my boss in the morning,” he smirked.

“Really?”

“Id have gone an idot to pass up an opportunity like this sweetheart.

Tagging some mooties @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munson-blurbs @maisieisaloserr @ghost-proofbaby @littlexdeaths @take-everything-you-can @andvys @userchai @loserboysandlithium @floredaqueen @sexmetaleddie @strangerstilinski @myherometalhead

[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

[pucksandpower]

I’ll Be Waiting

Toto Wolff x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Hedeby, 952

The crackling fire casts long shadows across the great hall as Toto sits upon his ornate wooden throne. His piercing brown eyes scan the room, filled with boisterous warriors celebrating their latest successful raid. But his gaze keeps returning to you, his most favored thrall, as you move gracefully among the revelers, refilling their horns with mead.

“You there,” Toto calls out, his deep voice cutting through the din. “Come hither.”

Your heart quickens as you approach, head bowed respectfully. “Yes, my Jarl?”

Toto leans forward, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Tell me, how fares the celebration? Are our warriors content?”

You risk a glance up, meeting his intense gaze. “They are in high spirits, my Jarl. Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“And what of you?” Toto asks, his voice lowering. “Are you content in my service?”

A flush creeps up your neck. “I am honored to serve you, my Jarl. There is no greater joy.”

Toto nods, satisfied. “Good. I have a task for you. Meet me in my private chambers after the feast.”

As you turn to leave, a hand grabs your arm. It’s Ingrid, Toto’s wife, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What did my husband want with you?” She hisses.

You try to keep your voice steady. “He merely asked about the celebration, my lady.”

Ingrid’s grip tightens. “Do not think I am blind to the way he looks at you. Remember your place, thrall.”

She releases you and you hurry away, your mind racing. As the night wears on, you can feel Toto’s eyes following you, and the weight of Ingrid’s glares.

Finally, the feast winds down. With trepidation, you make your way to Toto’s private chambers. You knock softly.

“Enter,” comes his voice from within.

You step inside, finding Toto standing by the window, silhouetted against the starry night sky.

“Close the door,” he says without turning.

You obey, your pulse quickening. “You wanted to see me, my Jarl?”

Toto turns, his expression unreadable. “I did. Come closer.”

You approach cautiously, stopping a respectful distance away. Toto closes the gap between you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“Do you know why I summoned you here?” He asks softly.

You swallow hard. “No, my Jarl.”

Toto’s hand cups your cheek. “I think you do. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. It mirrors the way I look at you.”

Your eyes widen. “My Jarl, I-”

“Shh,” he interrupts gently. “You need not speak. I know your heart, as you know mine.”

He leans in, his lips a breath away from yours. “Tell me to stop and I will. But know that you hold my heart in your hands.”

Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss. For a moment, the world falls away, and there is only Toto and the fire he ignites within you.

Suddenly, the door bursts open. You jump apart to see Ingrid standing there, her face contorted with rage.

“I knew it!” She screams. “You treacherous whore!”

Before either of you can react, Ingrid pulls a dagger from her belt and lunges at you. Pain explodes in your abdomen as the blade finds its mark.

“No!” Toto roars, catching you as you collapse.

He lowers you gently to the floor, pressing his hands against the wound. “Stay with me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

You try to speak, but only a gurgle escapes your lips. The world starts to fade around you.

“Guards!” Toto shouts. “Fetch the healer!”

But you know it’s too late. As your vision darkens, the last thing you see is Toto’s anguished face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I will find you,” he whispers fiercely. “In this life or the next. I swear it.”

With your last breath, you manage to whisper, “I’ll be waiting.”

As your eyes close for the final time, you feel Toto’s lips press against your forehead, sealing a promise that will echo through lifetimes to come.

Vatican City, 1493

The opulent halls of the Vatican echo with hushed whispers and the rustle of silk as you make your way through the winding corridors. Your heart races, not with the excitement of a bride-to-be, but with the desperate resolve of one about to take a drastic step.

As you round a corner, a strong hand grasps your arm, pulling you into a shadowy alcove. You find yourself face to face with Cardinal Toto, his eyes filled with concern.

“My love,” he whispers urgently, “what are you doing here? The wedding is but hours away.”

You place a trembling hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the rich fabric of his robes. “I had to see you one last time.”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean? Speak plainly, I beg you.”

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself. “I cannot go through with this farce of a marriage. My father may sell me to the highest bidder, but he cannot sell my heart.”

Toto’s eyes widen in alarm. “What are you planning? Tell me you haven’t done anything foolish.”

You pull a small vial from the folds of your dress. “It is already done, my love. The poison courses through my veins even as we speak.”

“No!” Toto gasps, gripping your shoulders. “How could you? We would have found another way!”

Tears well in your eyes. “There is no other way. My father’s ambition knows no bounds. This was the only path left to me.”

Toto pulls you close, his voice breaking. “Then I shall follow you into the darkness. I cannot live in a world without you.”

You push him away gently. “You must live, Toto. Live and remember me. Perhaps in another life, we will find each other again.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “I will not let you go. Not again. I’ve only just found you in this life, and I refuse to lose you once more.”

Confusion flickers across your face. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

Toto cups your face in his hands. “I’ve had dreams, vivid as memories, of us in another time. A great hall, a celebration ... and a tragic end. I swore I would find you, and I have. I will not be parted from you now.”

You sway on your feet, the poison beginning to take effect. “Toto, please. You must let me go. Your life, your position ...”

“Mean nothing without you,” he finishes firmly. “Come, we must get you to a physician. Perhaps there is still time to counteract the poison.”

As he tries to lead you away, you stumble, your legs giving way beneath you. Toto catches you, lowering you gently to the floor.

“Help!” He calls out, his voice echoing through the halls. “Someone, help us!”

You clutch at his robes weakly. “It’s too late, my love. But know that I go to my death with a heart full of love for you.”

Footsteps approach rapidly. A group of guards rounds the corner, led by your father, Pope Alexander VI. His face contorts with rage at the sight before him.

“What is the meaning of this?” He thunders. “Cardinal Wolff, explain yourself!”

Toto looks up, defiance blazing in his eyes. “Your daughter lies dying, Your Holiness. Will you not call for aid?”

Your father’s gaze hardens. “My daughter knows her duty. She will marry as I have decreed.”

“She has taken poison rather than submit to your schemes,” Toto spits out. “Is your ambition worth more than your daughter’s life?”

For a moment, shock flickers across your father’s face. Then his expression hardens once more. “Guards, seize the Cardinal. He has clearly bewitched my daughter’s mind.”

As the guards move to comply, you summon the last of your strength. “Father, please. Let me die in peace, with the man I love.”

Your words give the guards pause. They look to the Pope, uncertainty in their eyes.

Your father’s face twists with conflicting emotions. “You would throw away everything for this ... this upstart Cardinal?”

“I would throw away everything for love,” you whisper. “Something you have long forgotten the meaning of.”

A tense silence falls over the group. Then, to everyone’s surprise, your father waves the guards away. “Leave us,” he commands.

As they retreat, he kneels beside you, his voice softer than you’ve heard it in years. “My child, what have you done?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “I have chosen my own fate, father. For once in my life, I have made my own choice.”

Toto holds you closer, his tears falling freely now. “Is there truly nothing to be done?” He asks, his voice raw with anguish.

Your father shakes his head slowly. “The poison she favors ... it is swift and irreversible. I had thought to use it on our enemies, not ...” He trails off, unable to finish the thought.

As your breath grows more labored, you turn to Toto. “Promise me something, my love.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Live,” you whisper. “Live and do good in this world. And when your time comes, look for me in the next life. I will be waiting.”

Toto presses his forehead to yours. “I swear it. I will find you again, in this life or the next.”

With your last ounce of strength, you pull him into a final kiss. As your lips part, you feel the life leaving your body.

The last thing you hear is Toto’s anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the halls of the Vatican, but across time itself.

As darkness claims you, a strange sense of remembrance washes over you. You’ve been here before, you realize. And somehow, you know you’ll be here again. For your love is one that transcends death itself, destined to play out across the ages until, at last, you and Toto find your happily ever after.

Virginia, 1863

The makeshift field hospital buzzes with frantic activity as wounded soldiers are brought in from the front lines. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Amidst the chaos, you move with practiced efficiency, your nurse’s apron already stained with the day’s grim work.

Suddenly, a commotion at the entrance catches your attention. Your heart stops as you recognize the unconscious figure being carried in on a stretcher.

“Toto!” You cry out, rushing to his side.

The soldiers carrying him look grim. “It’s the Commander, ma’am. He took a bullet meant for one of his men.”

You quickly assess the wound, your medical training warring with your rising panic. “Put him here,” you direct, indicating an empty cot.

As they lay Toto down, his eyes flutter open. “Y/N?” He murmurs weakly. “Is that you, my love?”

You grasp his hand tightly. “I’m here, darling. You’re going to be alright.”

Toto manages a pained smile. “You always were a terrible liar, my dear.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you scold, fighting back tears as you begin to clean his wound. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t allow it.”

He chuckles, then winces. “If only your determination could heal bullet wounds.”

As you work, you keep up a steady stream of conversation, partly to distract Toto from the pain and partly to keep your own rising fear at bay.

“Do you remember when we first met?” You ask, your hands moving swiftly to staunch the bleeding. “At that ridiculous ball in Washington?”

Toto’s eyes soften at the memory. “How could I forget? You were the most beautiful woman in the room, and I was the fool who spilled champagne all over your dress.”

You laugh despite yourself. “And then you insisted on giving me your jacket to cover the stain, even though it was three sizes too big.”

“It was worth the embarrassment,” Toto says softly. “It got you to talk to me.”

A sharp intake of breath from Toto makes you pause in your ministrations. “I’m sorry, love. I know it hurts.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re doing your best. You always do.”

You blink back tears, focusing on the task at hand. “We have so much left to do, Toto. Remember our plans? The house by the lake, the children we talked about ...”

Toto’s hand finds yours, squeezing weakly. “Tell me about them. Our children.”

You swallow hard, playing along even as your heart breaks. “Well, there’s little Torger, of course. He would have your eyes and your stubborn chin.”

“Poor lad,” Toto quips, his voice growing fainter.

“And our daughter,” you continue, your voice wavering. “She would be as smart as her father and as headstrong as her mother. Heaven help us when she would’ve gotten older.”

Toto’s eyes begin to drift closed. “They sound perfect.”

Panic seizes you. “Toto? Toto, stay with me. Please, darling, you have to fight.”

His eyes open again with visible effort. “I’m trying, my love. But I’m so tired.”

You look around frantically. “Doctor! We need a doctor here!”

But the overwhelmed medical staff are all occupied with other critical patients. You’re on your own.

“Look at me,” you plead, cupping his face in your hands. “Do you remember what you promised me on our wedding day? You said you’d love me in this life and the next. You can’t break that promise now.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face. “The next life,” he murmurs. “Yes, I remember. I’ve always remembered, somehow.”

Confusion mixes with your fear. “What do you mean?”

Toto’s gaze becomes distant. “I’ve loved you before, Y/N. In other times, other places. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.”

You shake your head, tears flowing freely now. “You’re delirious, my love. Save your strength.”

“No,” Toto insists with surprising force. “Listen to me. This isn’t the end. I will find you again. I swear it.”

His words stir something deep within you, a sense of déjà vu so strong it takes your breath away. “Toto, I-”

But before you can finish, Toto’s body is wracked by a violent coughing fit. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

“No, no, no,” you chant, redoubling your efforts to save him. “Don’t you dare leave me, Toto Wolff. Don’t you dare.”

Toto manages to lift a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. “My brave, beautiful Y/N. How I wish we had more time.”

You lean into his touch. “We will. You’ll get better and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

But even as you say the words, you can feel Toto slipping away. His breathing becomes more labored, his skin growing cold beneath your touch.

“Kiss me,” he whispers. “One last time.”

Choking back a sob, you lean down and press your lips to his. You try to pour all your love, all your hope, all your desperation into that kiss.

As you pull back, Toto’s eyes meet yours one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” he breathes.

And then he’s gone.

For a moment, you’re frozen in disbelief. Then a wail of anguish tears from your throat, echoing through the hospital tent.

As you collapse across Toto’s still form, sobs wracking your body, a strange sensation washes over you. It’s as if you’re remembering something you’ve never experienced — other lives, other deaths, other heartbreaks.

In that moment, you know with absolute certainty that this isn’t the end. Somehow, someway, you and Toto will find each other again.

As the chaos of the field hospital swirls around you, you whisper a promise against Toto’s cold lips. “I’ll be waiting for you, my love. In this life or the next.”

And somewhere, beyond the veil of death, a spark of hope ignites. The wheel of time turns, and two souls begin their journey once more, drawn together by a love that refuses to die.

London, 1894

The London fog hangs heavy in the air as you hurry through the winding streets, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and fear. You pull your cloak tighter, glancing over your shoulder to ensure you haven’t been followed. Finally, you reach your destination: a nondescript townhouse in a respectable neighborhood.

You knock quickly, a pre-arranged pattern. The door opens almost immediately, and you’re pulled inside by strong, familiar arms.

“My darling,” Toto Wolff murmurs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. “I was beginning to worry.”

You melt into his embrace, inhaling his comforting scent. “I’m sorry, love. It was difficult to get away tonight.”

Toto’s brow furrows as he notices your wince when he holds you. “He hurt you again, didn’t he?”

You look away, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing, Toto. Please, let’s not waste our precious time together talking about him.”

But Toto gently cups your face, turning it towards him. “It’s not nothing. You don’t deserve this, Y/N. Let me take you away from all this. We could start a new life together, somewhere far from here.”

You sigh, leaning into his touch. “You know we can’t. The scandal would ruin you. Your business, your reputation ...”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Toto insists. “I care about you. I love you.”

Those three words, so freely given, bring tears to your eyes. “And I love you. More than I ever thought possible. But the world isn’t kind to women who leave their husbands, no matter how cruel those husbands might be.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Then let me confront him. I have influence, connections. I could make him disappear.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, I won’t have you risk everything for me. These stolen moments ... they’re enough. They have to be.”

Toto pulls you close again, more gently this time. “They’ll never be enough. Not when I know you’re suffering. Not when every fiber of my being aches to make you my wife, to give you the life you deserve.”

You look up at him, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. “Sometimes ... sometimes I feel as though we’ve lived this before. This longing, this impossible love. Does that sound mad?”

A strange expression crosses Toto’s face. “No, my love. It doesn’t sound mad at all. I’ve felt it too. As if we’ve known each other across lifetimes.”

You’re about to respond when a loud banging on the door makes you both jump.

“Open up, Wolff!” A familiar, slurred voice calls out. “I know she’s in there!”

Your blood runs cold. “It’s him. Oh God, Toto, it’s my husband. He must have followed me.”

Toto’s expression hardens. “Stay here,” he commands, moving towards the door.

But you grab his arm. “No, please! He’s drunk, he’s dangerous. Let me handle this.”

Before Toto can protest, you rush to the door and open it slightly. Your husband’s red, enraged face greets you.

“So it’s true,” he snarls. “My own wife, carrying on with this ... this upstart robber baron!”

You try to keep your voice calm. “Richard, please. Let’s go home and talk about this.”

But Richard is beyond reason. He shoves the door open, nearly knocking you over. Toto is there in an instant, steadying you.

“Get your hands off my wife,” Richard growls.

Toto’s voice is ice cold. “I suggest you leave, sir. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

Richard laughs bitterly. “Regret? The only thing I regret is not seeing this sooner. How long has this been going on, eh? How long have you been making a fool of me?”

You step forward, hands raised placatingly. “Richard, please. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think?” Richard roars. “Do you take me for an idiot?”

In his rage, he lashes out, his hand connecting with your cheek with a sickening crack. You stumble backwards, crying out in pain.

Toto moves with lightning speed, tackling Richard to the ground. “How dare you lay a hand on her!” He shouts, his fist connecting with Richard’s jaw.

The two men grapple on the floor, trading blows. You watch in horror, frozen in place.

Suddenly, Richard’s hand emerges from his coat, clutching a revolver. Time seems to slow down as he aims it at Toto.

“No!” You scream, throwing yourself between them just as Richard pulls the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot is deafening in the small space. For a moment, everything is still. Then you look down, seeing the rapidly spreading red stain on your dress.

“Y/N!” Toto cries out, catching you as you collapse.

Richard stares in shock, the gun falling from his limp fingers. “I ... I didn’t mean ...”

But Toto isn’t listening. He’s cradling you in his arms, his face a mask of anguish. “Stay with me, my love. Please, stay with me.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Toto ... my Toto ...”

“Don’t speak,” he urges. “Save your strength. Help is coming.”

But you both know it’s too late. You can feel your life ebbing away with each labored breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry we never got our chance.”

Toto’s tears fall on your face as he leans close. “Don’t be sorry. We’ll have another chance. I swear it. I’ll find you again, in the next life.”

A sense of peace washes over you at his words. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Toto vows fiercely. “This isn’t the end for us. It can’t be.”

With the last of your strength, you pull him down for a final kiss. As your lips meet, memories flood your mind – not just of this life, but of others. Viking halls, Vatican corridors, Civil War battlefields. Through it all, one constant.

Toto.

As darkness closes in, you manage one last whisper. “Until we meet again, my love.”

Your eyes close, your hand going limp in Toto’s grasp. The last thing you hear is his anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the room, but across time itself.

Indiana, 1932

The dilapidated streets of the once-thriving town are a stark contrast to the sleek black car that rolls through them. A powerful mobster sits in the back, his sharp eyes taking in the changes a decade has wrought on his childhood home.

As the car stops in front of a run-down tenement, a young boy approaches cautiously. Toto steps out, adjusting his expensive suit.

“You Toto?” The boy asks, eyeing him warily.

Toto nods. “I am. And you must be Jimmy. You’ve grown since I last saw you.”

Jimmy’s face darkens. “Yeah, well, a lot’s changed. You here to see her?”

“I am,” Toto confirms, his voice softening. “How is she, Jimmy?”

The boy’s shoulders slump. “Not good, mister. Not good at all. Follow me.”

As they climb the creaking stairs, Jimmy speaks in a low voice. “She’s been sick for months. Tuberculosis, the doc says. But she won’t stop giving her food to us kids. Says we need it more.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I would have-”

“She wouldn’t let us,” Jimmy interrupts. “Said you had your own life now, that she didn’t want to be a burden.”

They reach a door on the third floor. Jimmy hesitates before opening it. “Just ... prepare yourself, okay?”

Toto steels himself as they enter the small, dimly lit room. His heart nearly stops when he sees you lying on the bed, a mere shadow of the vibrant girl he remembers.

Your eyes light up when you see him, even as a coughing fit wracks your frail body. “Toto? Is it really you?”

He’s at your side in an instant, taking your hand in his. “It’s me, my love. I’m here.”

You manage a weak smile. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s not safe for you here.”

Toto shakes his head, fighting back tears. “To hell with safety. Why didn’t you tell me you were ill? I could have helped.”

Another cough shakes you, and this time, blood stains your lips. Toto reaches for a handkerchief, gently wiping it away.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you whisper. “You’ve done so well for yourself, Toto. I couldn’t bear to drag you back here.”

Toto’s voice is fierce. “You could never be a burden. Don’t you know that you’re everything to me?”

You look at him sadly. “We were children then. The world’s changed. We’ve changed.”

“Not where it matters,” he insists. “My feelings for you have never changed.”

Jimmy, who’s been hovering by the door, speaks up. “I’ll, uh, give you two some privacy.” He slips out, closing the door behind him.

Alone now, Toto takes in your gaunt face, your hollow cheeks. “Why haven’t you been eating?” He asks softly.

You look away. “Times are hard. The children need it more than I do.”

“And what about what you need?” Toto demands, his voice breaking. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to know? That I wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help you?”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve built a new life. I’m just ... I’m just a relic of the past.”

Toto cups your face gently, turning it towards him. “You’re not a relic. You’re the love of my life. The only thing that’s mattered all these years.”

You search his eyes, seeing the truth there. “Oh, Toto. I’ve missed you so much.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get you better and then-”

But you shake your head weakly. “It’s too late for that, my love. I can feel it. I don’t have much time left.”

“Don’t say that,” Toto pleads. “You can’t give up. Not now that we’re together again.”

Another coughing fit overtakes you, more violent than before. When it subsides, you look at Toto with a strange mix of sadness and wonder.

“You know,” you murmur, “I’ve had the strangest dreams lately. Of us, together, but in different times, different places. Is that mad?”

Toto’s breath catches. “No, it’s not mad at all. I’ve had them too. Like ... like we’ve lived this love before.”

You manage a small smile. “Perhaps we have. Perhaps we always will.”

Toto brings your hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “Then let this not be the end. Fight, my love. Fight to stay with me.”

“I’m trying,” you whisper. “But I’m so tired, Toto. So very tired.”

He climbs onto the bed, gathering you carefully in his arms. “Then rest. I’ve got you now. I’m not letting go.”

You nestle against his chest, feeling safe for the first time in years. “Toto?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Will you tell me about your life? What you’ve been doing all these years?”

Toto hesitates, not wanting to speak of his less-than-legal activities. But he sees the genuine interest in your eyes and begins to talk, telling you sanitized versions of his rise to power.

As he speaks, he feels you relaxing in his arms, your breathing becoming more even. For a moment, he allows himself to hope.

But then you look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of love and regret. “I wish we had more time,” you breathe.

Toto’s heart clenches. “We will. You’re going to get better, and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

You shake your head slightly. “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Look after them. Jimmy and the others. They’ll need someone now.”

Toto nods, tears flowing freely now. “I promise. But you’ll be here too. You have to be.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Kiss me? One last time?”

Choking back a sob, Toto leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, desperate kiss.

As you part, you look into his eyes one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” you whisper.

And then you’re gone, your body going limp in Toto’s arms.

For a moment, the world stands still. Then Toto’s anguished cry echoes through the small room, a sound of grief so profound it seems to transcend time itself.

As he holds your lifeless body, Toto makes a silent vow. He will find you again, in this life or the next. For a love like yours cannot be bound by the limits of a single lifetime.

Monaco, 2024

The bustling energy of the paddock swirls around you as you make your way through the crowd, one hand resting protectively on your slightly swollen belly. Despite the chaos, you move with confidence, knowing that at any moment ...

“There you are, mein Schatz,” a familiar voice calls out. Toto appears at your side as if by magic. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you feeling alright? Do you need to sit down?”

You can’t help but smile at his concern. “I’m fine, Toto. Just taking a little walk. The baby’s been restless today.”

Toto’s hand immediately joins yours on your belly, his face lighting up with wonder. “Is that so? Well then, little one, let’s find a more comfortable spot for your mother, shall we?”

Before you can protest, Toto is guiding you towards the Mercedes hospitality area, his arm protectively around your waist. As you walk, heads turn and whispers follow. It’s still a novelty for many to see the usually intense and focused Toto Wolff so openly affectionate.

“Toto, really, I’m okay,” you insist, even as you allow him to lead you. “You don’t need to fuss so much.”

He gives you a look that’s equal parts love and stubbornness. “Nonsense. It’s my job to fuss over you. Both of you.”

As you enter the cool, quiet Mercedes suite, Toto immediately starts arranging pillows on a plush sofa. “Here, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? Perhaps a foot massage?”

You laugh, settling onto the sofa. “A water would be lovely, thank you. But then you need to relax. Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

Toto waves a hand dismissively as he fetches your water. “The team can manage without me for a few minutes. You and our child are my priority.”

As he hands you the water and sits beside you, you can’t help but marvel at the man before you. Toto Wolff, the billionaire, the racing mogul, the man whose mere presence commands respect throughout the paddock — and here he is, fussing over you like a mother hen.

“What are you thinking about?” Toto asks, noticing your contemplative expression.

You take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Just ... how different things are now. How perfect. Sometimes I feel like we’ve been waiting lifetimes for this happiness.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face, a mix of recognition and wonder. “You know, I’ve had that same feeling. Like we knew each other before.”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine. “It’s odd, isn’t it? But it feels ... right, somehow.”

Toto pulls you closer, his hand resting on your belly once more. “Perhaps we have known each other across lifetimes. And perhaps this is the one where we finally got it right.”

Just then, you feel a strong kick from the baby. Toto’s eyes widen in delight.

“Did you feel that?” He exclaims, his usual composure completely forgotten.

You laugh, wincing slightly. “Trust me, I felt it. I think someone’s eager to join the conversation.”

Toto leans down, speaking directly to your belly. “Hello there, little racer. Are you practicing your podium celebrations already?”

As if in response, there’s another kick. Toto looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears of joy.

“I never knew I could be this happy,” he murmurs. “You’ve given me everything. A love I never thought possible, a family of my own ...”

You cup his cheek, touched by his openness. “Oh, Toto. You’ve given me just as much. More, even. You’ve given me a home, a sense of belonging I’ve never had before.”

Toto turns his head to kiss your palm. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you always feel that way. Both of you.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Toto sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

“Come in,” he calls out, his ‘team principal’ voice back in place.

A nervous-looking intern pokes his head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the strategy meeting is about to start. They’re asking for you.”

Toto nods. “Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment.”

As the intern leaves, Toto turns back to you with an apologetic smile. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Will you be alright here?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll be fine. Go, lead your team to victory. We’ll be right here cheering you on.”

Toto stands, but hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? I could have someone bring you some snacks or maybe a blanket if you’re cold ...”

“Toto,” you say firmly, but with affection. “Go. We’re fine. I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”

He leans down to kiss you softly. “Alright, alright. I’m going. I love you both so much.”

“We love you too,” you reply, giving him a gentle push. “Now go be the brilliant team principal I married.”

As Toto finally leaves, you settle back into the couch, your hands resting on your belly. You feel another kick and smile.

“Your father’s quite something, isn’t he?” You murmur to your unborn child. “But don’t worry. No matter how busy he gets, no matter how many races he wins, you and I will always be his greatest victory.”

As you sit there, surrounded by the muffled sounds of the paddock, you’re filled with a sense of contentment so profound it almost overwhelms you. After so many lifetimes of heartache and separation, you and Toto have finally found your happily ever after.

And as your baby kicks again, you smile, knowing that this is just the beginning of your greatest adventure yet.

[frances-baby-houseman]

I would have bled out in the parking lot

Amber Nicole Thurman's death is on Trump's hands

Bess Kalb

Sep 17

In 2019, about six weeks after my first child was born, I found myself on the bathroom floor in a small, but nonetheless unsettling puddle of blood.

“Oh no,” I remember thinking. “I just did the laundry.”

I called out my husband’s name, but the sound caught in my throat. The pain I felt inhaling to get enough air out of my lungs to yell the two syllables in “Char-lie” jabbed my guts like a bicycle spoke to the abdomen.

So I was quiet, trying to keep breathing in a way that didn’t move anything inside me, and the pain pulsed a bit, then steadied, then dulled, then evaporated into whatever hell ether it came from.

Because there is no G-d (unless there is, in which case I abbreviated His name so as not to desecrate it, and also thank you, King of the Universe, for subscribing to this newsletter) this was the one time in my life I hadn’t brought my phone with me to the bathroom.

I decided to sort of slither-lumber to the door like a lame harbor seal, because I didn’t want to stand and loosen the spoke that had just stabbed me. I reached for the knob and let the door creak open.

The cat was there, looking at me right at eye level, keenly aware what was happening, and completely unmoved by it.

“You are dying,” he blinked, “Pity. Have a nice time.” He sashayed away.

Fortunately, our house in Los Angeles was small enough that from the bathroom door one could see everything. My husband was sitting on the couch with our infant, and I knocked on the open door to summon him. Within one one thousandth of a second, he set the baby on the (since-recalled) donut pillow and was holding my head.

I sat up. I breathed. No pain. I took a picture of the bloody mess on my husband’s phone, texted it to myself, he found my phone, then I texted the picture to my OBGYN.

Apologies for being graphic, but within the puddle there was something roughly the size and shape and color of a fig.

“Is this ok?” I said to my doctor, the bicycle spoke scraping lightly at my insides again from all the lumbering.

“Come in,” she replied.

Within two hours, I was in the waiting room of her office, accompanied by my terrified but SMILING mother, who was still, as is the Jewish custom, in town for “a few days or so” after the birth.

An ultrasound which felt like the finger of Satan himself revealed there was retained placenta in my uterus. If I hadn’t come in, there would have been more hemorrhaging, then sepsis, then whatever the cat foretold.

The next day, I was in surgery getting a Dilation and Curettage.

I went home, pumped the anesthesia milk, then fell asleep perfectly fine, my sweet newborn cooing merrily in the bassinet next to his alive mother.

Amber Nicole Thurman’s story was the same as mine, but it happened to her in Georgia in 2024, not California in 2019. She was a Black woman in a healthcare system that disproportionately kills Black women, especially postpartum. In 2021, the Black maternal mortality rate was nearly three times the rate it is for white women. Post-Roe, the toll is and will continue to be staggering.

Because post-Roe, the procedure that saved my life, the D&C, is something doctors cannot perform in states where matters of life and death have been left up to non-medical Christian-supremacist superstitions.

I know the pain Amber Thurman felt when that placenta dislodged and carved its tiny, treacherous hole in her uterine wall. I know the terror she felt when she saw the blood, and the rush of dread when she thought of what her child would do without her.

And when I vote in November for Kamala Harris and every progressive down-ballot candidate, I will do it because she can’t. And I will do it so that women in Georgia and Idaho and Texas and North Dakota and South Dakota and Utah, Arizona, Nebraska Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana, Florida, South Carolina, and West Virginia won’t have to meet the same completely preventable doom.

This election isn’t just about Amber Thurman. Every day of my lucky, breathing life is about Amber Thurman. Because the only thing that separates us, is one of us bled out under the right Supreme Court.

Let’s raise absolute federal hell about it.

-- From Bess Kalb's newsletter The Grudge Report. I pay for this substack -- though it's free-- and think this is a message worth sharing far beyond her newsletter.

[voxslays]

Rut Season Alastor x Reader

Smut. Pure Smut.

When November rolled around, Alastor's antlers became itchy and the velvet rubbed off as he desperately tried to stave off the breeding season. Now the Radio Demon, Hell's strongest Overlord, was locked up in his room, desperately humping against the bed, imagining a loving partner he could mate with. The desire to breed a beautiful female was ever so present. He let out sharp cries every time he grinned against the mattress, trying desperately to hold himself back. "H-Haah~! Haah~! Fuck, fuck, fuck~!" From within his room, with rut warnings posted all over his door, you could hear him desperately trying to cum, but to no avail. He couldn't cum without a mate right now. Tears of sexual frustration welled in his eyes as his humping became more desperate. 

“Hey Alastor?” You say as you walk into the room, unaware. 

Alastor was so engrossed in his rut that he didn't hear the door open. He continued to hump against the bed, his tail lashing back and forth behind him. The smell of his pheromones filled the room, a heavy, musky scent that was hard to ignore. 

As soon as you start to close the door, Alastor freezes mid-hump. His tail whipping around to face you. His eyes are wild, dilated with lust. "What are you doing here?" he growls, his voice barely recognizable. Get out!" *He points to the door, his hand shaking with the effort to control himself. You look away. “Charlie told me to tell you that dinner is being served!” You say, embarrassed.

Alastor's stomach grumbled loudly at the mention of food, but his body's urgent need for release was far stronger. "I-I can't... I-I'm in rut." He let out a sharp cry, his body convulsing as he desperately tried to find release. “Oh- Uhm-” You pause. “That makes sense I guess..” Alastor's tail presses tightly to his waist, squeezing him against the bed as he continues to hump, his cries growing louder and more desperate. "F-Fuck... I need to... I need to breed..." His eyes roll back in his head, and he begins to thrash wildly.

You just stand there awkwardly before deciding to leave. “I'm just gonna go-”

“M-Mate with me!" He let out a primal roar, his antlers crashing against the headboard. His eyes, wild with desire, locked onto you. "Anything... please... just..." He paused. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards the bed. His strength is overpowering, and you find yourself being dragged towards him. “Alastor just wait a moment-!”

He's beyond reasoning now, his mind clouded by the intense need to breed. His tail tightens around you, pulling you down onto the bed with him. He growls, his voice low and menacing. "Can't... wait... I… need... you… now…” He pants. 

His antlers catch the light as he leans down, his hot breath fanning across your face. "Please... let me mate with you..." His arms wrap around your legs, spreading them wide as he grinds his hips against yours, his erection pressing against you. “I'll help you.” You say. His eyes widen, then roll back in his head as he lets out a roar of triumph. He starts to paw at her clothes, growling possessively. “Mine, you're mine... I'll breed you so hard…” His arms unwrap from your legs and he reaches down to unbuckle his pants, freeing his engorged member. With a loud growl, he enters you, his hips moving violently as he begins to breed. The sound of your bodies slapping together fills the room, and his antlers catch in your hair as he leans down to bite your neck, marking you as his. "FUCK~..."

He continues to move, his hips thrusting with a wild, animalistic rhythm. He can't help but let out loud, growling grunts with each thrust. “Fuck~... So tight… Ah! Say my name!” He leans down once again, his fangs grazing her earlobe. “Alastor!” You cry. He grins, his eyes fluttering shut as she speaks his name. He grinds his hips into hers, burying himself deep. “Good girl…” He praises, his voice thick and heavy. He leans down, claiming her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue dominating her own.

His movements become even more frenzied as he nears his peak. His tail wraps tightly around your waist, holding you in place as he breeds you hard and fast. He soon lets go. "FUCK..." He collapses on top of you, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. His tail unwraps from your waist and reaches down to touch your stomach, as if checking to make sure his seed has taken hold. "Mmm... I hope you're fertile..."

“W-what!?” You ask, taken aback. He nuzzles your neck, his voice contented. "I hope you're fertile... I want you to have my fawn... or several. His arms wrap possessively around you, and he lets out a purring sound. “​​A-Alastor-!” You say, extremely flustered. He silences you with a kiss, his tail tightening around you. "Shh... no regrets... You're mine now... my mate... His tail begins to slowly rub against you, its movements soothing yet possessive. "And you'll bear my young.” 

His tail continues to rub against you, its movements becoming more insistent. He breaks the kiss and nuzzles your neck, his voice low. "I can feel my seed inside you... It would be such a shame if it was all for nothing..." He stands up, his arms still wrapped around your waist. He carries you to the bathroom, setting you down on the counter. He turns on the shower and steps inside, pulling you in with him. "We'll give it a little push, just in case."

He turns you to face the shower wall and pushes your legs apart, his tail spreading them further. He reaches under you and rubs your belly gently, his other hand holding your hips in place. "Hold this position..." He begins to rub your belly in slow, rhythmic motions, his tail keeping your legs spread wide. The warm water cascades down on you both, and his voice rumbles in his chest as he purrs contentedly, his arms tightening possessively around you. "There... that should do it..." He says.

He turns off the shower and helps you out, drying you off with a large, fluffy towel. He carries you back to the bed and settles in beside you, his arm around your waist. "Get some rest, my dear..” He says. 

[marysfics]

Shifting Glances

Week after week, you see her in the waiting room.

Angst, Trauma, EMDR, Comfort, Fluff

Note: In this story, you'll find references to EMDR therapy. I’ve undergone EMDR therapy myself for several years, and while it has been challenging, it has also brought me relief. It's important to note that EMDR can be a unique experience for everyone. The way it's depicted here reflects my personal journey. If your experience with EMDR is different, that's completely okay. Feel free to share your thoughts, but let's all remember to approach these discussions with kindness and respect for one another's experiences.

The clinic smells of antiseptic and lavender-scented air freshener, a juxtaposition that somehow fails to be comforting. You’ve gotten used to it by now, the muted tones of the waiting room, the low hum of the fluorescent lights, and the way the receptionists’ voices hover just above a whisper. It’s always the same, except for her.

You glance up from your seat near the corner, fingers nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. She’s there again, across the room—her presence nearly impossible to ignore. She’s sitting with her head tilted down, long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder, a face mostly hidden under the bill of a cap. Still, you know. You’ve learned to spot the details by now. She’s always wearing loose sports gear, her left knee often taped in some fashion, crutches sometimes leaning against her seat.

You’re not a sports person, so at first, she was just another face, another person passing through the clinic, but then she became something more—a mystery. You’ve stolen more than a few glances during the weeks you’ve sat waiting for your turn. The routine was nearly identical: you both arrived at the same time each week, a brief flicker of acknowledgment between your eyes before you both looked away, as though there was something too dangerous in holding that gaze for too long.

You steal another glance at her, curiosity buzzing beneath the weight of everything else. She has that same air of exhaustion, though you assume hers comes from something more physical. You don’t know her, not really. Just a face, a woman who happens to sit in the same room as you once a week.

Today is no different, except something feels heavier. There’s a quiet ache in your chest that refuses to leave. EMDR therapy—Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing—it’s exhausting, and today, it feels impossible.

You know you’ll be going through the usual: being asked to relive memories, to feel things you’ve spent years suppressing, and to heal what’s been fractured inside of you. It’s tiring and it leaves you feeling hollow at times, especially when you leave. The vulnerability in those sessions never fails to drain you, and you always wonder if it’s helping or just opening old wounds.

But today, you notice something else. Her fingers fidget more than usual, her eyes flickering between her phone screen and the door. Anxiety. She’s nervous too.

The nurse calls your name, interrupting your thoughts. You stand, giving her one last glance, but this time, you don’t look away as quickly as you usually do. To your surprise, her gaze meets yours for the first time in weeks—really meets it. There’s something in her expression, something you can’t quite name. Maybe recognition. Maybe sympathy.

Your feet feel heavier than usual as you walk to the nurse, but there’s a buzzing under your skin now. Her eyes linger on you even as you turn your back, a weight you feel but don’t dare acknowledge. The conversation between the nurse and your therapist is distant, your mind still locked in that fleeting moment of connection.

Why did she look at you like that?

The door closes softly behind you, and you sit down on the familiar couch in your therapist’s office. The room is softly lit, the same as every week, but today it feels different. Or maybe you feel different. Your mind is already racing, though not about the usual memories that drag you under.

“Ready to start?” your therapist asks, her voice calm, grounding you slightly.

You nod, but your mind keeps tugging back to the waiting room, to her—what’s-her-name—sitting there with those tired eyes that somehow looked straight into you. It’s not like it was the first time you’d stolen a glance. But it is the first time she looked back.

The session moves forward in a blur. The rhythmic back-and-forth of your therapist’s fingers in front of your eyes, the instructions to focus on your memories, to feel them without being overwhelmed by them. But today, it’s harder. Harder to concentrate. Harder to dive into the past when your present is hanging on the thread of something unspoken in that waiting room.

Why did she look at me?

The therapist’s voice blends into the background as your eyes follow her hand back and forth, back and forth—trying to focus, trying to do what you’re supposed to. But the room feels wrong today. Usually, this process grounds you, pulls you deep into the recesses of your mind, where old wounds wait to be confronted. But today, your mind is somewhere else entirely.

More specifically, on her.

You’ve spent weeks perfecting the art of pretending she doesn’t exist. A stolen glance here, a quick look away there. She’s always been on the periphery, a quiet presence you’ve never acknowledged out loud. It’s become part of your routine—pretending not to notice her, letting her fade into the background like the murmur of the clinic around you.

But today, she didn’t stay in the background. Today, she noticed you. She looked at you. Not the polite, disinterested glances you’re used to exchanging with strangers in waiting rooms, but something else. Something charged.

Why did she look at me like that?

The therapist’s voice cuts through your thoughts, soft but firm. “Stay with me. What do you feel right now?”

What do you feel?

You swallow, trying to push the image of her from your mind, but it doesn’t budge. Her eyes—the way they held yours for just a second longer than necessary, how something flickered in them before she quickly looked away. Recognition? Or maybe something else? Sympathy? Sadness?

“Um, I feel… I don’t know,” you admit, shaking your head slightly, trying to focus. You’re supposed to be processing your pain, your own tangled memories, but your brain is stubbornly clinging to the way her fingers fidgeted in her lap, the way her leg bounced with impatience. The way her shoulders seemed to carry an invisible weight, just like yours.

Your therapist doesn’t push, though her eyes study you carefully. She shifts in her seat, slowly moving her hand back and forth again, drawing your focus back.

“Stay present,” she repeats gently, and you try. You really do. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in slowly, trying to feel something other than the strange energy still buzzing under your skin.

But as soon as you open your eyes again, your mind is back in the waiting room. You can almost see her sitting there now, shoulders hunched, the corner of her lip pulled between her teeth as she stared at her phone, looking anxious—maybe even upset. Was it something on the screen that bothered her? Or was it the reason she’s here at all? The knee she cradled with unconscious care, as though even sitting still caused her discomfort?

You don’t know her story. You barely even know her name. But you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more under the surface, something that runs deeper than just an injury or a tired glance. Something that mirrors your own pain in a way that feels unsettlingly familiar.

“Can we take a break?” you ask suddenly, your voice sounding too loud in the quiet room.

The therapist pauses, her hand still mid-movement. She lowers it slowly and nods. “Of course. Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?”

You hesitate. Talking about what’s on your mind usually means revisiting the same memories you’ve been unpacking for months. Trauma that you’ve carried with you like a second skin, the kind that weighs you down and makes you feel like you’re suffocating in your own body. That’s what therapy is supposed to be for—that pain.

But right now, it’s not the past tugging at your mind. It’s the now. The girl sitting across from you every week, the unspoken weight of her presence lingering in your thoughts like a slow burn.

“I… I’m just distracted,” you say, your voice quieter now, unsure.

Your therapist doesn’t press, just nods in understanding. “That’s okay. Sometimes our minds drift when we’re processing a lot. We can pick up whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, grateful for the reprieve, but your mind keeps spinning. The session feels heavier today. Usually, the weight is familiar—the kind of weight you’re used to carrying alone. But now there’s something—or someone—else filling your head, making it hard to sort through your usual patterns.

Why did she look at me like that?

You replay the moment in your mind again, trying to decode it. You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything, that you’re overanalyzing a simple glance. People look at each other all the time. She probably doesn’t even remember it now, back to whatever’s pulling at her in her own life. But still… the way her eyes lingered.

Your thoughts tumble into a messy loop of frustration and curiosity. Did she feel something too? Or was it all in your head? She’s a stranger. Just a face you’ve seen in passing. You don’t know her, not really. But somehow, that one glance has you questioning everything.

The therapist’s voice breaks through again, softer this time. “Do you want to try and continue?”

You nod, even though your mind is still miles away from where it should be. As the therapist raises her hand again, beginning the familiar motions in front of your eyes, you take a deep breath, hoping this time you can focus.

But even as your gaze follows the movement of her hand, your mind drifts back to the waiting room, back to those tired eyes and the way they seemed to see something in you. Something you’re not sure you want to face.

And for the first time in weeks, it’s not your own memories that are haunting you.

As the session drags on, the rhythm of your therapist’s hand becomes background noise to the thoughts that swirl relentlessly in your head. You try to bring yourself back to the task at hand, back to the healing process you’re supposed to be focused on, but you feel adrift, untethered.

Her eyes won’t leave your mind. That flicker of something—connection, maybe—that felt so intense in that brief glance. You can still feel it, like a pulse that’s not entirely your own.

It feels ridiculous, honestly. This isn’t supposed to happen. You’re here to heal, to peel back the layers of yourself and work through the wreckage inside your mind. You’re here to process your trauma, not to get caught up in the orbit of a stranger who happens to sit across from you once a week. A stranger you don’t even know by name.

Still, the thought of her consumes you.

Why did she look at me like that?

The question hammers in your brain, louder now that you’ve allowed yourself to acknowledge it. There’s a strange comfort in the idea that maybe she sees something in you, too. That maybe the weight she carries isn’t so different from your own. You’ve been drowning in your own pain for so long—what would it feel like to share that with someone who understands? To find recognition in someone else’s eyes?

Or is that just you, projecting?

Focus. You need to focus.

You force yourself to sit up a little straighter, your hands gripping the edge of the chair as your therapist’s voice drifts back into your awareness. You know she’s watching you carefully, noting the way you’ve been distant, distracted, ever since you walked into the room. You haven’t been present today, haven’t really felt anything but the odd, lingering sensation of her—the woman with the tired eyes and the worn knee brace.

You wonder what she’s here for, what injury brought her to this clinic. You’ve pieced together the clues over the weeks—her knee, the way she sometimes leans on crutches, the soft wince she tries to hide when she stands up. Maybe she’s an athlete, or used to be. You’ve caught glimpses of logos on her clothing that hint at something sports-related, but it’s not your world. You wouldn’t know.

Yet despite not knowing, you feel it—the heaviness in her, the same way you feel it in yourself. There’s something unspoken, something you’ve both been avoiding in your stolen glances.

The therapist’s hand passes in front of your eyes again, and you try to refocus. You try to reach for the memories she’s guiding you toward, the ones you’re supposed to be reprocessing. But the memories feel hazy today, like they’re distant and out of reach. Usually, they’re so vivid—too vivid. But now, they’re dulled by the present, by the way your mind is pulling you somewhere else entirely.

“Let’s take another pause,” your therapist suggests, her voice patient but concerned.

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding gratefully. The tension in your body eases just slightly, but your mind is still racing.

“I think…” you begin, your voice hesitant. “I’m just not all here today.”

Your therapist waits, giving you space to elaborate. You know she’s used to this. Distraction is common during these sessions, but you’ve never felt this kind of restlessness before. This kind of… preoccupation.

“There’s… someone,” you admit finally, the words slipping out before you’ve had time to really think them through. “In the waiting room. I keep getting distracted thinking about her.”

Your therapist tilts her head, curious but not judgmental. “Someone in the waiting room?”

You nod, feeling a little foolish now that you’ve said it out loud. “Yeah. I don’t even know her name, but we’re always there at the same time. We’ve never talked, but today… today she looked at me differently.”

Your therapist stays quiet, letting you find your words. Her patience helps, but it also makes you feel exposed, like you’re admitting to something fragile and uncertain.

“And it just—it’s been stuck in my head,” you continue, your voice quieter now, as if saying it louder might make it too real. “I don’t know why it’s affecting me so much. It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You’re not sure what you want from this confession. Reassurance, maybe? Validation? Someone to tell you that you’re not losing your mind over a brief glance from a stranger?

Your therapist’s expression softens, but she doesn’t immediately dive into analysis. Instead, she asks, “What do you think it is about her that’s sticking with you? Is there something familiar, something that reminds you of yourself?”

The question lingers in the air between you, and you feel your chest tighten. It’s not something you’ve allowed yourself to fully consider. The way she looks at you. The way she seems just as weighed down by something invisible. The recognition, maybe, of pain.

“I don’t know,” you say, but the words don’t feel entirely true. “Maybe.”

Your therapist nods thoughtfully, but doesn’t press further. “It’s normal to connect with others in ways that might surprise us, especially when we’re going through difficult things ourselves. If she reminds you of something—of yourself, of a feeling—it’s okay to acknowledge that.”

You nod, but your mind is still racing. What is it that you see in her? Is it really just a reflection of your own pain, or is there something more? Something in the way she carries herself, the way her eyes met yours like she was trying to say something she couldn’t put into words.

“Do you want to explore that more?” your therapist asks gently. “Or would you rather focus on something else for now?”

You hesitate, feeling torn. Part of you wants to dig into it, to figure out why this woman has such a hold on your thoughts. But another part of you feels scared—scared of what you might find if you look too closely.

“I’m not sure,” you admit quietly. “I guess… I’m not sure if I’m ready to.”

Your therapist nods again, understanding. “That’s okay. We can take it at your pace. But if you want to talk about it more, we can always come back to it.”

You feel a strange mixture of relief and apprehension. Talking about her—about that glance, that moment—feels like opening a door you’re not sure you want to walk through. But at the same time, you know that you’ll think about it for the rest of the day. Maybe for longer than that.

As the session winds down, your mind is still preoccupied, but there’s a little more clarity now. Maybe it’s not just the glance itself that’s bothering you. Maybe it’s what that glance represents—the possibility that someone else sees you in a way you’re not used to being seen. That someone else might be carrying their own weight, just as heavy as yours.

And as you step out of the therapist’s office, back into the familiar waiting room, your eyes instinctively search for her. For the woman who has somehow taken up so much space in your mind.

But now, her seat is empty.

And suddenly, the room feels a little colder without her presence.

The week drags on in a strange, heavy haze. Every day, your mind keeps drifting back to her—back to that brief, fleeting glance that’s somehow managed to burrow deep under your skin. It’s ridiculous, you tell yourself. You’re overthinking it, turning something meaningless into something monumental. You’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, hiding yourself behind carefully constructed walls, and now, one moment with a stranger has you spiraling into obsession.

You try to shake it off. You try to focus on work, on your routine, on anything but her. But it’s like a splinter in your mind. No matter how much you push it away, it’s always there, just under the surface. You catch yourself replaying the moment over and over again—the way her tired eyes locked with yours, the faintest flicker of recognition passing between you. Did she feel it too? Or are you imagining it?

On Wednesday, you find yourself walking past the clinic—deliberately, even though you don’t have an appointment. You glance through the glass door, half-expecting to see her sitting there, leg bouncing nervously, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. But the waiting room is empty, and the sight of it leaves you with a strange hollowness in your chest.

What if she doesn’t come back?

The thought gnaws at you. It’s irrational, but the possibility that you might never see her again—that this inexplicable connection could vanish as quickly as it appeared—makes you feel like something important has slipped through your fingers. Something you didn’t even realize you were missing.

Get it together. You need to move on.

But by Friday, the restlessness is back in full force. You find yourself lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering. Wondering if she’s thinking about you too. Wondering if she felt the same pull, the same strange energy lingering between you.

Maybe you’ll never know. Maybe it’s better not to know.

But as the next week rolls around, you feel a nervous anticipation building in your chest. Your next appointment is coming up, and the thought of seeing her again—of what might happen this time—has your mind racing in a way that feels almost… dangerous.

What if she’s there?

What if she’s not?

The questions twist and turn inside you, and by the time your appointment day arrives, you’re practically buzzing with a nervous energy you can’t quite contain. You tell yourself it’s stupid, that you’re being irrational. You’re supposed to be focusing on your healing, not obsessing over some stranger you’ve never even spoken to. But the truth is, you haven’t felt this alive in a long time.

When you walk into the clinic, your eyes immediately sweep the waiting room. For a moment, the space feels empty, cold. But then, there she is—sitting in the same spot as always, her knee braced, her posture tense. She’s staring at her phone again, her fingers tapping the screen, but you notice the way her leg bounces restlessly. There’s a tension in her shoulders, a tightness in the way she’s holding herself, like the weight she’s carrying is a little heavier today.

You pause just inside the door, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. You weren’t prepared for this, not really. Seeing her again feels like stepping into a current you can’t control. You want to look away, to keep pretending she’s just another person passing through your life. But instead, you find your gaze lingering on her, the same way it did last week.

And then, just like before, she looks up.

This time, there’s no hesitation in her gaze. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the room falls away. The world outside fades, and all you can feel is the intensity of her stare, the weight of something unspoken passing between you. It’s like you’re both suspended in the same moment, tethered by something invisible and undeniable.

You freeze, unsure of what to do. Should you smile? Look away? Say something? But before you can make a decision, she shifts in her seat, straightening up slightly, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite read. There’s recognition there, yes, but also something deeper. Something like understanding. Or maybe even… curiosity?

Your throat feels tight, your pulse quickening. You don’t know what to do with this feeling, this connection that seems to be growing stronger with every second you hold her gaze.

And then, she does something you didn’t expect.

She nods.

It’s subtle, just a small dip of her head, but it feels like a monumental shift. Like she’s acknowledging you—not just as a stranger, but as someone… more. Someone she’s noticed, someone she’s maybe been thinking about too.

Your breath catches in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself nodding back. It feels awkward, stilted, but it’s the only thing you can think to do in the moment. It’s not much, but it’s something. A bridge, maybe. A connection.

You take a seat across from her, your body tense with nervous energy. You can feel her presence, like a subtle pull in the air between you. Neither of you speaks, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s charged, filled with all the things you’re not saying, all the questions you’re not asking.

The door to your therapist’s office opens, and her familiar voice calls your name. You stand up, feeling a strange reluctance to leave the waiting room, to leave her behind. But as you turn to head toward the office, you steal one last glance at her.

She’s still watching you.

And for the first time in weeks, you don’t look away.

The session that follows is one of the hardest you’ve had in a long time. The therapist guides you through your memories with a gentle persistence, pushing you to confront parts of your past that you’ve been carefully avoiding. Today, it’s not just the weight of your own pain that feels unbearable—it’s the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long.

Your memories of childhood are raw, jagged, and unsettling. You find yourself reliving moments of fear and isolation, the sting of harsh words, the bruises you tried to hide. The sessions are usually a mix of distant recollections and present-day reflections, but today, the past crashes into you with a force that makes it hard to breathe. Your mother’s anger, her frustration, her harsh words—they’re all too close, too real. It’s like the boundaries between then and now have dissolved, leaving you exposed and trembling.

When the session ends, you barely manage to pull yourself together. Your eyes are red, streaked with tears, and your face feels hot and heavy with emotion. You nod to your therapist, a wordless acknowledgment of the work you’ve done. You need air—space to breathe and let the turmoil inside you settle.

You stumble out of the office, the hallway seeming longer than usual. You make your way to the clinic’s entrance, your steps unsteady, your mind still tangled in the remnants of painful memories. The cool air hits your face, and you stop just outside the door, letting it wash over you. It feels like a fleeting reprieve from the storm raging inside.

And then, you see her.

She’s standing there, just outside the door, her back to you. You recognize her immediately—Alexia. She’s wrapped in a coat, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. You can see her shoulders trembling slightly, and as you watch, she turns and looks at you. Her eyes are red and swollen, tears still glistening on her cheeks.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence between you is heavy, filled with unspoken understanding. You can see the same rawness in her face that you feel in your own. It’s as if both of you are caught in the aftermath of a storm, trying to find a way to navigate the wreckage.

Alexia takes a step toward you, her gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. “I didn’t expect to see you,” she says softly, her voice wavering. There’s a tremor in her tone, like she’s struggling to keep herself composed.

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. The sight of her—so open, so unguarded—strikes a chord deep within you. It’s not just about the glance you shared or the way you’ve been obsessing over her. It’s something deeper, something you’ve been grappling with in your own way.

“I…” you start, but the words fail you. Instead, you take a tentative step toward her, the distance between you shrinking as you both stand in the cold air, the weight of your shared pain hanging in the space around you.

Alexia looks down, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been coming here for a while. I didn’t think anyone noticed.” She pauses, her eyes meeting yours again, filled with a mix of sadness and curiosity. “You looked at me today like you understood something. I felt the same way.”

Her words hit you hard, echoing the thoughts that have been circling your mind all week. It’s as if she’s voicing the unspoken connection you both felt—the shared weight, the recognition of each other’s pain.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” you finally say, your voice rough from the emotions you’ve been grappling with. “I just… I saw something in you. I don’t know what it was, but it felt familiar.”

Alexia nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s strange,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “I’ve felt like I was carrying this alone. And then you came in, and for some reason, it felt like… like maybe someone else understood.”

The shared understanding between you deepens, and you feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you’ve felt. The connection you’ve both sensed, the unspoken recognition—it’s not just in your head. It’s real, and it’s giving you both a moment of connection that you’ve been craving.

Without thinking, you reach out, offering her a small, hesitant smile. “If you want to talk… or if you just need someone to be here,” you offer, your voice steadying despite the tears still lingering in your eyes.

Alexia’s gaze softens, and she nods. “I’d like that,” she says quietly. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

Part 2

[lina-linny]

summary: yn is insecured about talking to much but her boyfriend hyunjin is there to comfort her

genre: hurt, comfort, fluff

words: 1k

It was a typical Friday evening. As always, Yn stumbled through the door of the small apartment she shared with her boyfriend Hyunjin just as he sat down in front of his canvas. Loaded down with bags, she tried to get rid of her shoes with moderate success.

"Yn-aaaaah how was work, love?"

"Good," she replied curtly, putting down one of her numerous shopping bags, which were filled to the brim. Hyunjin was taken aback. When yn came home on Fridays, she usually never stopped talking to him about her work. About how much fun she had with her new project at work, what she had for lunch or what her annoying colleague had done again. It wasn't like her to be that curt and dismissive, hyunjin realized with a frown. shrugging his shoulders, he began to draw. maybe she was just tired.

yn was completely caught up in her usual routine. everything was the same as always. But instead of looking forward to the weekend with her boyfriend and finding comfort in her upcoming weekly "painting-tea-talking ritual", she was plagued by countless self-doubts today. Was she not pretty enough? Was she really annoying hyunjin? Was she too loud?

Sighing, she walked through the kitchen and put the freshly bought groceries away in their designated places. When she had put the last can in one of the cupboards, she put on some tea water and opened the shelf with her thousands of cups. without thinking about it, she pulled out her comfort cup and filled it to the brim with hot water. looking at it, the cup wasn't particularly pretty. the design was peeling off nicely because of the frequent washing, and yet it was perfect in yn's eyes. it had been the first gift hyunjin had ever given her. when she met him, she was stuck in one of the darkest periods of her life. plagued by insecurities, stress and unhealthy relationships, hyunjin had smuggled himself into her life as a small glimmer of hope and when he wasn't there or she couldn't express her worries, she clung to the cup.

Ironically, the reason she needed to hold her cup today was her fear of losing hyunjin. Was she too exhausting? lost in thought, she picked out a tea bag and carefully let it disappear into the water in the cup. then, as usual, she sat down next to hyunjin, who by now had a rough sketch on his canvas and greeted her with a beaming smile.

the artist had been looking forward to her usual ritual all day. yn could only muster a half-hearted grin. as she slumped into her usual chair, hyunjin waited patiently to finally hear all about her day. he was dying to find out whether her colleague ayumi had so obviously made a move at her much too old and happily married boss again, or whether linh from the marketing department had spilled her coffee on her colleagues again and had brought these heavenly muffins as an apology for the chaos, which yn would quote "kill for". in both cases, this would be the third time in a month. but instead of the usual gossip, a depressed silence followed. hyunjin tried to ignore the silence by turning his attention back to the painting in front of him.

he began to paint a dark blue. he carefully let the brush glide over the canvas. as he always did. as he had done hundreds of times before and yet it was wrong. the line was wrong. it didn't show what his heart wanted to express. it was too big and too small, too wide and too thin. it lacked any warmth, just like hyunjin. the room was warmed by the rays of the setting sun and his sweater gave his body a pleasant temperature but it didn't reach his heart.

"yn-ah what's wrong? why don't you talk to me? you can't make me beg so brutally. give me all the tea!" hyunjin's mouth twisted into a pout and made yn smile slightly.

"I don't know, Jini... I talk too much anyway... I don't want to distract you from painting." to say hyunjin was confused would be an understatement. he furrowed his brow worriedly.

"jagia where did you get the idea that you talk too much? i love to hear you talk. especially when i'm painting! i want to know how your day was. every day! i want to hear everything you have to tell me my muse. i can't paint without you. the lines don't get right the painting can't really convey what i feel but when you're with me, when i hear your honey sweet voice it just becomes real love. i never want you to shut up understand?" hyunjin curled his shapely lips into a pout as if his girlfriend had personally attacked him with her previous statement.

"okay, okay jini!" yn laughed, but hyunjin didn't want to let the whole thing go so easily.

"jagi, what makes you think you talk too much?" hyunjin shifted so that his full attention was on his beloved. he looked at her anxiously as she nervously kneaded her hands and clutched her cup for support.

"well... i just thought... you know, hana, you know the one who regularly sleeps with the ceo... i was talking about our date where we went to see this beautiful van gogh exhibition and well... she said i always talk way too much and that i never let anyone get a word in edgewise. and... maybe she also said that... she's surprised that someone like you is still with me at all... and i mean she's not entirely wrong, is she? i always talk so much. when you paint i ramble non-stop. you don't get a word in edgewise and i'd understand if you were annoyed with me for that... or something"

"ohh love..." hyunjin sighed and wrapped his girlfriend in a warm hug, pulling her onto his lap, which she only commented on with a sad smile.

"have you forgotten that I always ramble the same way?" He lovingly nudged her nose, which made her giggle.

"i sometimes ramble on for hours about how great our new choreography is or how annoyed i am with one of the boys and as far as i can remember you always love to listen to me. so please don't stop. you shouldn't listen to hana this little..."

yn stopped her boyfriend from uttering a sinful insult to hana by placing her soft and tea-warmed lips on his. hyunjin sighed into the kiss and pulled her closer to him. Their lips moved as if they had never done anything else before. They danced a dance whose choreography only they knew. Hyunjin's hands were soon in her hair as he tried to take away her insecurities with his kiss alone.

panting, they broke away from each other but hyunjin didn't let her escape from his strong arms. slowly, he covered her now laughing face with kisses. smiling, hyunjin buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. "soo... are you going to tell me how your day was, my muse?" he asked, pressing a tender kiss to her sensitive neck, which made her giggle.

"okay... do you know how annoying hikaru was today? he's been running around all day and..." hyunjin returned to his canvas even though one of his hands was now occupied holding yn's, who by now was sitting in her own chair again, sipping her tea as she talked.

by now, the sun had disappeared and was replaced by the soft shimmer of the moon. the cool evening air wafted through the open windows of their shared apartment and yet hyunjin was much warmer than he had been just a few minutes before. her voice dripped like liquid honey straight to his heart and the soft giggle that had just left her lips made hyunjin beam. he carefully applied the brush and... the line was perfect.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 4- Love Unveiled

Accelerating Emotions (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N decides to give Oscar a chance, to give them a chance and she does not regret that one bit, except for how they got caught or maybe everyone already knew.

Implied smut

Y/N couldn't sleep. She saw the sunrise but her mind was preoccupied with everything Oscar had said. The past few days, the time they had spent together, the way he made her laugh, how he was the only person ever to coerce her with his puppy eyes. But was it worth it? Was it worth ruining the family friendship and dynamic she had going with his family. They had practically raised her; they would take care of her like their own, it wasn't right to do something like this to them. And even if Oscar's feelings were real, even if she decided to be with him; what if things don't work out one day and they break up. What then? Who was she supposed to go to? She would lose a part of her, why would they take her side when Oscar was theirs? Would her brother take her side or would he get angry for ruining everything? In hind sight, Oscar's a catch; no doubt about that. But she wasn't about to ruin everything for some fleeting moments. That's what she thought and decided to catch Oscar before he left. She sprinted to the guest room to find the door ajar. Oscar had left, when, she didn't hear a thing? Was she so caught up in her thoughts? Maybe this was for the best, maybe not seeing Oscar anymore would fix this.

Y/N decided to avoid Oscar like the plague, she didn't go to his house at all. A part of her did want to but she could wait until he left. That's what those weird feeling were right? The tightness in her chest when she thought about Oscar or the feeling of his hands on her; she craved the familiarity. She didn't like Oscar, surely. Nicole had called her over for dinner a few days before school was supposed to start and since Oscar was around she lied and said that she wasn't feeling well. What she didn't expect was Oscar to show up with hot soup and food. She opened the door to find Oscar stood there with a worried look on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked, "Why are you here?" she asked. "mum said you were sick, so I brought food over" he said holding the packet in his hand. "I..." she was speechless. "You lied" that's when it dawned on Oscar that she had lied so that she wouldn't have to see Oscar. "Do you hate me that much?" his voice cracked as he asked. "No Oscar I don't hate you. I just....it would've been weird" she began but stopped when she saw tears falling from his eyes. Oscar never cried, not in the 18 years she had known him. Even when he fell or scraped himself, he would just dust himself off and get up. It broke her heart knowing she was the reason for his tears.

She raised her hands to wipe away his tears but Oscar flinched. It made her heart break. "Don't. You don't get to wipe my tears" is all he said before he dropped the packet on the floor and left. Even though Y/N called him out, he just left. She picked up the food and walked in. The night was another sleepless night on Y/N's end. Oscar cried a lot, he went to bed early and didn't get out the next morning. Y/N was starting to feel uneasy; maybe she had been too harsh on Oscar. She should've at least rejected him so that the both of them could move on. But a part of her couldn't; that's why she had been avoiding him.

The next day on call with Nicole; "Do you feel better now, darling?" she asked. "The soup was very good, I need the recipe" Y/N said avoiding the question. "I have no clue, Oscar made it for you" she replied. "What?" Y/N asked. "Poor boy was so worried that you were sick, he made the food and said he'd bring it over" Nicole said. There was a lump forming in her throat, she was a horrible person.

After much deliberation, Y/N ended up texting Oscar, "Can we meet at the park near your house? I would totally understand if you didn't come but I'll be waiting for you at around 4" and sent. Oscar saw the text and he wondered if he wanted to see her or not after the events of the night before. He laid in his childhood bed staring at the ceiling for a couple of hours before getting dressed around 4. Even if she hurt him, he still liked her; he couldn't stop suddenly.

He got there quarter past 4 and he saw Y/N playing with some of the kids present there. She must've noticed Oscar staring and turned to him and waved at him. The kid she was playing with moved back to the swings while Oscar walked over to her. "hey" Oscar waved awkwardly standing in front of her. "hi" she waved back, patting the place next to her. Oscar sat down, she was playing with her fingers and tapping her foot rapidly, a nervous habit she had developed as kids and has yet to get rid of. "I'm sorry about the other day" she said not looking at him. Oscar just shrugged when she looked up. "It was wrong of me to lie and worry everyone like that" she remarked. "You worried me the most" Oscar mentioned. "Sorry" she whispered with her head hanging. "Did you think about what I said?" Oscar asked. "Oscar, I don't hate you and what I did yesterday was stupid. You are important to me, not sure in what way. I've had you around for as long as I can remember so you're just you, I guess. I did think about us, you and" she gulped; "I never saw you as anyone but my brother's friend" she said. Oscar felt his heart shatter for god knows which time. It was like he was being tortured. "But" she began while finally looking back at him, noticing tears in his eyes; "I've know you for 18 years and I'd never seen you cry before until yesterday. The two times I see you cry and it's because of me. Makes me feel like shit, honestly. I never saw you as anyone but Oscar, Ansel's friend until the Australian GP. You looked taller, older and I'd be lying if I didn't have thought after some of the moments we shared. It felt like there was something between us." she said, her foot almost thumping the ground. "You'll break the cement" Oscar laughed looking at her foot. "No one makes me nervous like you do Oscar." she stated. "Y/N you make me nervous, for years now." Oscar interjected. "Would it be selfish of me for wanting to be with you?" Y/N asked. Oscar's lips were turning up into a smile, his cheeks were twitching, "No" Oscar breathed. "I would love it if you did" he said. "Obviously you would" she laughed; a noise Oscar could get used to. "What if things don't work out between us? I'll lose you and your family" she pointed out. "That won't happen, and by some shitty luck that does. You won't lose me or us. Ever" he confirmed. "Never?" she asked. "never" he confirmed. "Are you free tomorrow?" Y/N asked this time, more confidently. "Yes" Oscar almost screamed. "I'll pick you up at 8, let's give this a chance" she said.

Oscar wasn't normal about this, at all. He spent the whole day scouring his wardrobe, texting and calling Lando to ask his opinion on outfits. Lando was half asleep when Oscar called but was fully awake when Oscar said, "she asked me out on a date, granted I confessed to her first" Lando had a smile on his face; he helped Oscar pick out an outfit since Y/N asked him to dress fancy. Oscar picked a white shirt, blazer and black slacks. Oscar casually strolled down towards the main entrance, a skip in his step. "Where you going?" his youngest sister asked. "Just out" Oscar said trying to leave before his mum saw him. "Mum, Oscar's going on a date" his sister yelled. His mother appeared from the kitchen, "Sweetheart, Oscar's 22. It's about time he went on a date. Have fun. Don't come home too late and stay safe" his mum told him waving good bye. The last sentence made Oscar's skin crawl. He was greeted by Y/N in his drive-way and hopped right in.

"You look beautiful" Oscar said, staring at Y/N. If this was a cartoon his eyes would've turned into hearts. Y/N was wearing white dress with a blazer on top to fight the cold. The blazer matched Oscar's coincidentally who was also wearing a black blazer. "You don't look half bad" she glancing at him before starting the engine. "I wouldn't have minded picking you up" Oscar pointed out. "Well, the place we're going to is a new restaurant that opened up soon after I moved back and I'd always wanted to try it out with my boyfriend" she stated casually. Oscar's eyes were the size of saucers, "Boyfriend" he stammered. Y/N smiled, "We might get there, who knows." she said. She had always been bad in choosing the type of men she decided to date. Maybe, Oscar confessing to her is what she needed to maybe instead of pursuing some one, let the other person do the pursuing. She wasn't sure how anyone would react to her dating Oscar, but that's a hurdle she'll cross when need be.

When they reached the restaurant, Oscar got out and opened the door for her, held the door at the entrance and even pulled her chair. Y/N was being wooed by the simplest things; truly she'd been dating some shitty men. The food was pretty good and the two of them enjoyed their meal while Y/N did most of the talking. She was talkative person, a complaint she carried forward through out her life; a complaint most of her boyfriends had and a complaint that ended most at a single date. Oscar had known her long enough to know, she talked a lot to fill in the awkwardness she felt. Oscar intently listened to her, a luxury in his eyes since he would be gone most of the year.

After dinner they hit up their favourite ice cream parlour which was almost about to close. Being the last customers there, they quickly grabbed their ice creams and left. Y/N had a bit of a habit of stealing other people's ice creams, having stolen Oscar's quite a lot in their earlier years. She thought he was dumb enough to not notice her taking bites well into their teen years but Oscar knew. He always knew. He just loved it when they got to share an ice cream. She did the same this time, but got caught. "sorry" she apologised, slowly trying to place the ice cream back. "Have it" Oscar said. "What?" she asked. "You've been stealing my ice cream for years. What's stopping you now?" he asked. "You knew" she was shocked. "Kind of hard to miss when you're ice cream's disappearing faster then you're eating it" Oscar commented. "OH" was all she said, now quietly eating her ice cream. "You can have mine as much as you'd like" she said offering her ice cream. Oscar took a spoonful and put it in his mouth. "I could get used to these privileges" Oscar hummed. She just smiled as they walked around.

Y/N dropped Oscar off. "Can I get a kiss?" Oscar asked with a pout. "Piastri, you're pushing your luck, don't you think?" she asked. "Maybe, but I can't let the opportunity go" he chuckled. "take me out on another date and maybe I'll think about it" she said. "Done, when are you free?" he asked. "Aren't you a little too eager?" she laughed. "I'm a man of action" he stated. "I start school in 3 days" she said. "I'll see you the day after. Good night" he said getting out of the car. "Good night Oscar" she said. "Dream about me" he called back shooting flying kisses at her. Y/N had never seen Oscar like this and maybe she could get used to this.

He kept his world and took them to have pasta. The ride there was quite eventful since Oscar almost rammed his car on the side walk as soon as he saw Y/N. "Are you okay?" she asked while getting into the car. "Yeah I'm fine. Don't worry about it" Oscar said. "How can I not?" she questioned giving Oscar a quick once over. He bought her flowers; a combination of every flower at the florist since he couldn't decide. Y/N was wearing the necklace he got her which made him comment about it every chance he got. The dinner was memorable to say the least since Oscar thought the waiter was flirting with Y/N and kept calling her girlfriend whenever he got the chance. "I don't think he believes you" she laughed. "What why not?" Oscar asked. "No one calls their girlfriend, girlfriend" she mentioned. Oscar's lips formed an O and resorted to calling her darling for the whole night.

"Word of advice before you call someone your girlfriend, ask her once" she said. "Sorry." Oscar apologised. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked immediately. "yes" she smiled. "For the record I don't agree to being someone's girlfriend on our second date" she stated. "I'm an exception. We've known each other forever, in my defence" he mentioned. "Yup" she said popping the p. She stopped walked and turned to face him, latching her arms around his shoulder, "You made feel special for the 2 dates we went on. Some of my best dates honestly." She said. Oscar's arms cautiously hovered over her waist. "You can place them on my waist" she said looking at his hands; feeling the warmth as they rest on her waist. "Does your boyfriend get to kiss you?" he whispered inches away from her lips. "maybe" she breathed out. Oscar looked into her eyes for any sort of hesitation before attaching his lips onto hers. Everything fell into place for the both of them; all those shitty relationships that ended in heart break meant nothing to Y/N. And the wait for Oscar was over, the lips he fantasised about for years were on his and he couldn't be happier.

Oscar dropped her back home, "Maybe I should walk you back to the flat" Oscar sited. "Why?" she asked. "We could continue our date, maybe Netflix and chill" he mumbled. "Slow down there tiger" she laughed. "Good night, Osc" she whispered leaving a quick peck on his cheek and opened the door. "My lips are here" he shouted out, making her giggle. She could get used to this, she thought.

The first day back to school was always hectic, Oscar offered to drive her there much to her resistance and even got her snacks for the day; she felt like she was going back as a student and not a teacher. He was back at the end of the day to pick her up. They drove back while Y/N told Oscar all about her day. It had been a while since she had someone to unload from the day's events. Oscar loved hearing her talk and he loved being called Osc occasionally. "I'm leaving the day after" Oscar said in the moment of silence when Y/N was done talking. "You are?" she said, there was a hint of disappointment. But she had known, Oscar wasn't here for long and he wouldn't be here for long ever. "Well, I hope you do well in the rest of the races" she mustered her most cheerful voice. "I don't think I'll be able to see you off" she lamented. "It's okay, you can come to some of the races when you're free" he reasoned. "Yeah, let's see about that" she thought aloud.

Y/N didn't think this would go any further. She expected Oscar to forget about her and then they'd eventually drift apart. Maybe one of the reasons she agreed to give it a try, to see where it went. But she caught herself catching feeling and wanting to talk to Oscar. She did not expect him to call her everyday, that was not very Oscar like. But he did, he would call her at very reasonable times except it would be super late where ever he was. He would ask about her day and then would fall asleep on call. Y/N found herself staring at Oscar as he slept. She would whisper a quick good night and sweet dreams before ending the call.

Everyone as in all of Oscar's family was going to the Singapore GP, Oscar had told her and also asked her to come along since he missed her. She missed him too. So, she was set to fly with the Piastri's to Singapore. Oscar was ecstatic when he saw Y/N but he couldn't jump on her when his family was around. But at the end of the day, he slipped into her room, wrapping his arms around her as he closed the door behind him. "I missed you" he whispered while hugging her tightly. "Babe, I can't breath" she whispered. "Then don't. I'm not letting go" he stated. She rubbed his back for a few seconds before Oscar loosed his grip and Y/N rested her chin on his chest while looking at him. "Didn't know I could miss someone so much" she commented. "Me neither. Lando hates me, though" he said. "What? Why? It didn't look like it" she asked worried. "No I mean, since I miss you so much, he knows about how much I miss you" Oscar clarified. "Lando knows about us?" she asked. "he's the only one" he said. "Oh, okay" she sighed. "Don't you want the others to know?" Oscar asked. "In due time, I just want to enjoy my time with you, for now" Y/N said. Which was true, she didn't want to involve their families just yet, she never told her parents about her past relationships until she felt the guy was worth it, she might've been wrong but it is what it is. The entire weekend, the pair would sneak glances at each other. Lando was having a lot of fun teasing Oscar and now Y/N.

After the race, when everyone suggested going out for dinner, Oscar said, "I'm tired. I'll probably get some sleep" and Y/N also said, "I just don't feel so good" They wished them well and left for the night. The two of them spent time together, for the first time in a while. Oscar ordered room service, they watched some rom-com, they don't remember since Oscar kept stealing kisses from her. Soon enough, those kisses turned into full blown make-out session which ended with the both of them forgetting the movie playing and Oscar on top of Y/N. Their fingers intertwined, Oscar's head was buried in Y/N's neck as they chases their high. After some time, they laid in each others embrace, while Y/N felt Oscar kiss her forehead, "I love you" he said. This was the first time they had said it. When she had asked him out, she had wanted to see where those weird feelings took her. She was very happy that this is where they got her, she was happy for the first time in a really long time. She felt loved and maybe dating your brother's best friend wasn't such a bad idea after all, she thought while saying, "I love you too"

The next morning, they were almost caught when Oscar's sister knocked on Oscar's door to join them for breakfast. Some how Oscar was able to ward her off and the two quickly got dressed and left their rooms. The breakfast was uneventful except Oscar being a lot more touchy feely, Y/N wasn't complaining it's just that it made focusing on what Chris or Nicole had to say extremely difficult.

Y/N had a Japan trip planned, or so she said and it fell exactly during the GP weekend. That's how Y/N and Oscar ended up exploring Japan a few days before the race and just enjoying the beautiful scenery and absorbing the culture after the race. They tried all those couple costumes and even went to amusement parks. The more time they spent together, the more they got greedy to have each other around. Y/N almost cried when she had to fly back. Oscar promised to be back as soon as the season was over.

And he did come back as soon as the last race was over and everyone was able to head home to rest and recuperate. Oscar reached home; he did not expect to find Y/N at his place, so without a second thought he dropped his bag and ran to her. He kissed her with so much need, his hands roamed her body and were under shirt while Y/N did try to get his attention but she lost her train of thought after she felt his body pressed against hers. "Please do not undress the poor girl in my living room" Nicole called out. Oscar almost jumped away from her. "I know you probably miss each other but keep it to the bedroom. I do not want to see what you two get up to" Nicole stated walking in followed by his whole family and Y/N's family. "That's what I was trying to tell you, that everyone's on their way home" Y/N whispered. Oscar took her hand in his, "I'm dating Y/N" he stated confidently. "We know" they called back. "Did you tell them?" Oscar asked, looking at her. Y/N shook her head confused.

Ansel told Oscar after dinner, "You know your parents lost 100$ because of you" Oscar was even more confused then before. "They had a bet going, my parents said that you two would end up dating, your parents said that you would pine your whole life away" Ansel elaborated. "My own parents have no trust in me" he lamented. "In their defence, you've had the biggest crush on her since like when we were in 5th or 6th grade" Ansel said. "You knew" Oscar asked. "I know you too well. It was getting painful watching you" Ansel laughed. "My parents couldn't be happier at the thought of having you as their son-in-law" Ansel said. "They think we'll get married." Oscar asked shocked. "At this point, they'll get you both married. Mum says she hasn't seen Y/N this happy in any relationship" Ansel explained. "Also the two of you are not stealthy at all. Nicole saw you leave with my sister multiple time, same goes for my mum. Also your sister caught you too getting too comfortable under the table in Singapore too, the poor girl. I almost puked when I heard that" Ansel gagged.

Oscar walked into the kitchen to find Y/N alone. "They knew, from the start" he said. "It seems" she smiled at him. "We're bad actors" she laughed. "Now I can touch you whenever I want" Oscar stated. "Please do not try to get me naked any where but our rooms, I don't think I can take the are we gonna be grandmas soon questions anymore" she said shaking her head. She pecked his lips, "I love you" she said. "I love you more" Oscar declared. "Honestly, didn't know I could love someone like I love you" she commented, pressing a kiss on his neck, "I might be staying over" she said in a sing songy tone walking away. "Really?" he asked. She nodded linking her hands with his.

[veronicaphoenix]

all that's left | noah sebastian

noah sebastian x reader | tags & triggers warnings: pure angst and pain, mentioned car crash, mentioned coma, implied death | words: 900ish

͢ all that's left

Jolly sat in the hard plastic chair, staring at the floor, tracing the same crack in the linoleum with his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time. His fingers twitched in his lap, restless with the things he still couldn’t make sense of, the things he didn’t know how to say to her.

It had been two weeks since the accident. Two weeks of waiting for her to wake up, to open her eyes and remember. Two weeks of trying to accept reality and trying to find the right way to tell her the truth—truth that he still couldn’t accept himself. 

A deep, hollow ache tugged at him as he glanced toward her motionless form in the bed. Machines hummed softly around her, cables trailing from her body like vines trying to hold her down to this world. Her face was pale beneath the harsh hospital lighting. It was hard to reconcile the vibrant girl he remembered with the frail figure lying in front of him now.

He hadn’t left the hospital much since the crash. Couldn’t. Her uncle hadn’t come, as expected, but there had been friends and other relatives that had come to check on her, that had cried when they’d seen her, that had cried even before stepping into the room, once the news had reached them. 

None of it changed a thing. 

A faint groan, barely audible, broke the silence in the room. Jolly’s heart leapt into his throat as he snapped his head up.

Her eyelids fluttered.

For a moment, he froze, unsure if he had imagined it. But then her fingers twitched, her lips parted in a faint gasp, and her eyes—those eyes—opened, unfocused and wide with confusion.

He pronounced her name in a questioning tone. Jolly leaned forward, his voice shaky but hopeful, like it might shatter at any moment.

She blinked slowly, trying to focus, her gaze darting around the room in a frantic haze. Her breaths came in short, shallow bursts. Her body seemed stiff, uncooperative, like it wasn’t hers anymore. She stared down at herself, at the tubes snaking into her arms, the bandages, the bruises, the weight of her broken body sinking in.

“Wh–where…?” Her voice was raspy, as if it had been buried somewhere deep, far away. Panic flickered in her eyes as her hands instinctively pulled at the wires tethering her to the machines.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jolly said quickly, standing now, reaching out but not touching her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re fine.”

She flinched at the sound of his voice, her gaze finally locking onto him. But there was no recognition there, only fear.

“J-Jolly?” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

He nodded, forcing himself to breathe, to stay calm. “Yeah, it’s me. Hold on, I’ll get the doctors.”

He stumbled to the door, calling for a nurse, for anyone. It wasn’t long before they flooded the room—nurses, doctors, people in scrubs with voices too loud and movements too fast. They surrounded her, checking vitals, speaking in hushed tones meant to reassure, but her confusion and panic only deepened.

Jolly stood back, hands shoved into his sweats’ pockets, watching helplessly as they worked. This was it. This was the moment he had dreaded, and it was happening too fast. He wasn’t ready. But it wasn’t about him—it was about her. And Noah.

After what felt like forever, the doctors finished their examination. One of them—a tall man with kind eyes—placed a hand on Jolly’s shoulder as they left.

“She’s stable. It’s good that she’s awake. Take it easy, okay? She’s going to be confused and disoriented. We’ll be back in a while to check on her again. ”

Jolly nodded mutely. Easy? There was nothing easy about this.

The room was quieter now, just the two of them again. She lay back against the pillows, her brow furrowed in confusion, but calmer. She turned her head—even that simple movement hurt like hell—. Her eyes landed on Jolly.

“What… happened to me? Why… why am I here?”

Jolly took a slow breath, pulling up the chair beside her bed. His hands were trembling slightly, but he tried to steady them as he clasped them together. “You were in an accident,” he said softly. “Two weeks ago. A car crash.”

She blinked, processing. Her gaze dropped to the cast encasing her leg, the bruises staining her skin, and the machines still connected to her. She swallowed hard, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. It made sense, even if it didn’t feel real. 

“Two… weeks?” she whispered, almost to herself.

Jolly nodded. “Yeah. You’ve been in a coma. But you’re awake now. You’re going to be okay.”

She didn’t respond right away, staring down at her hands. Her face twisted as if she was trying to pull memories from the darkness, but it was like sifting through fog. Then, slowly, she looked back at him.

“Jolly…” Her voice broke a little. “Noah… He was with me. He was in the car too.”

Jolly’s heart clenched, and he felt the blood drain from his face. 

He opened his mouth, but no words came. Just the crushing weight of what had to be said, pressing down on him as he tried to gather the courage to speak.

Her eyes widened as the silence stretched on, and the air between them growing impossibly heavy as her heart succumbed to the most horrifying panic she would ever experience; her eyes, unblinking, filling with tears. 

“Jolly… where’s Noah?” 

[mechaknight-98]

Outrage II (NSFW) FT Nayoung

Operator's Notes: Now back with more x-men lore and gratuitous nudity

The hectic sound stage made finding where to go for the girl group Lightsum difficult. Thankfully their manager was there to guide them. She led them to their markers and where they were to stand when performing and gave clear directions as they waited. After this last show, they’d be free to explore California to their heart’s content. For Nayoung this meant seeing her best friend Davy Jones also known by his stage name Kraken. As the music played Lightsum crafted an excellent and explosive performance of their newest song. After the performance, they sat across couches from the talk show host.

“Well, Lightsum that was a Pretty great performance. (The audience claps while the talk show host gesticulates to encourage more) you guys are so talented. Can I ask what drives you?”

The interviewer shifted her attention to Chowon. “Chowon, what drives you?”

Chowon smiled confidently, leaning into the question with the poise of a leader. "Honestly, I think it’s the desire to keep improving. Whether it's dancing, singing, or just connecting with our fans, there's always room to grow. That pushes me every day. We’re constantly evolving, and I love being a part of that process."

The host nodded thoughtfully. "That's a great perspective, always reaching for more."

Next, she turned to Sangah. "And what about you, Sangah?"

Sangah, known for her strong stage presence, gave a warm smile. "For me, it's my family. They've always been my biggest supporters, so I do everything I can to make them proud. My younger sister especially—she’s like my biggest fan. So I just want to give back to them in any way I can."

The audience let out a collective "aww" as Sangah’s sincerity resonated with them.

"And Hina?" the host asked, directing her attention to the youngest member.

Hina beamed with her usual youthful energy. "I just love being able to perform! When I see people dancing along with us or singing our songs, it feels like we’re all sharing this huge, exciting moment together. That’s what keeps me going—it’s like we’re all connected through the music."

The host smiled at Hina’s infectious enthusiasm. "It sounds like the whole group has such a strong connection to your fans and each other."

Nayoung, sitting beside them, listened as her members gave their answers before offering her own thoughts on being enamored with performing. The interviewer noticed that Nayoung’s answer stuck out the most, however. She cited a love of performing and being enamored by it.

“Oh enamored with performing huh?” The host said Smiling. Nayoung nods as she shifts in her chair.

"Speaking of Enamored, it seems like you have the eye of another performer, and fellow mutant right?"

Nayoung blushed and said, "Oh Kraken is just a friend but also a good musical partner. Our flows work really well together." Nayoung explained.

The interviewer smirked and said, "Right? Well, then I hope you two do many collaborations in the future because the chemistry between you two is electric in any genre."

After the interview Nayoung and the rest of the group head back to their hotel. They move through really quickly as they all get into their rooms, and when she’s showered and done she texts “I’m done” to Kraken” She is happy when she hears the knock on the door. She opens it to see her boyfriend the unclean vocalist for The Flying Dutchman Davy Jones, but also known for his side project Kraken, which most of the world knows him as. Nayoung holds him tight before giving him a myriad of kisses all over his face covering him in her lipstick. Nayoung smiles and says, "I missed you,"

Kraken smiles and says, "Well I am here for you, and the weekend is ours."

Nayoung smiles and says, "I am going to have so much fun with you this weekend,"

Kraken smiled and said, "I look forward to it.

Kraken teleported Nayoung with him to the studio where his friends were. It was her last off weekend before their next comeback and she wanted to spend it with Kraken whom she hadn't seen in almost a month. However JD and the rest of "The Flying Dutchman" were back in the studio, working on more songs for their new album. After Fans heard the single with her and became ravenous for more. So JD started writing Sledgehammer. Their heaviest song yet.

JD's bandmates were surprised to see JD with a woman. They thought their friend had taken a vow of celibacy a long time ago, but here they were meeting his new "Friend"

"So what is she doing here?" Douglas the "nonchallant" member asked.

"She wanted to hang out and likes our music so this seemed like a good idea to show her the new stuff we were working on."

"Are you sure about this?" Jojo the more cautious friend asked.

Nayoung opened her jacket to show her "The Flying Dutchman T-shirt and everyone relaxed as she sat on the producer's side.

Nayoung sat in the cozy, dimly lit recording studio, watching as the band members of The Flying Dutchman adjusted their instruments and fine-tuned their equipment. Kraken had invited her to join them for the session, and she was thrilled to witness the creative process firsthand.

As Kraken excused himself for a quick break, Jojo, the band's drummer, approached Nayoung with a friendly smile. He was stout, with a very brotherly demeanor that belied his intense focus when he played.

"Hey, Nayoung, right?" Jojo asked, taking a seat next to her.

"Yeah, that's me," she replied, smiling warmly.

Jojo leaned back in his chair, glancing toward the door to make sure Kraken was out of earshot. "So, Kraken’s been talking a lot about you lately."

Nayoung felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "Really? I hope it’s all good things."

Jojo chuckled. "Mostly. But seriously, we’re all pretty protective of him, you know?"

Nayoung nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I get it. He's a great guy, and I’d never want to hurt him."

"That's good to hear," Jojo said, his tone still light but with an edge of seriousness. "Kraken’s been through a lot with the band and all the pressures that come with it. He’s like a brother to us, and we just want to make sure he's happy."

"I really care about him," Nayoung said earnestly. "I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up."

Jojo studied her for a moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with her sincerity. "I believe you. Just know that if you ever need anything or if something’s bothering you about the whole band thing, you can talk to me or any of us."

"Thanks, Jojo. I appreciate that," Nayoung replied, grateful for the support.

As Kraken returned to the studio, oblivious to the conversation that had just taken place, Jojo gave Nayoung a reassuring pat on the shoulder and stood up.

"All right, let’s get back to it!" Jojo announced, picking up his drumsticks and heading back to his kit.

Kraken smiled at Nayoung as he sat down beside her. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything’s great," Nayoung said, feeling elated.

When everything was set up Jojo started with some heavy percussions. Followed up by AJ's haunting baseline. To compliment Noah and Dougla's powerful riff lines on keys and guitar. The AJ started singing about Massive machines mashing municipalities. Nayoung watched happily. They worked so well together and then she noticed JD had taken his Psionic barriers down. And the edges of the room began to fray ever so slightly. Her eyes went wide as she hadn't really seen the visual effects of his powers but noticed that reality began to unravel at the seams.

She watched intrigue. Tentacles began to grow from the walls as his power superimposed itself on reality. The room seemed to take on an almost misty appearance like they were truly aboard a ghost pirate ship. Nayoung smiled seeing Kraken so at ease, and in his element.

"Controll the Mob, Master the tides. Control the people's covered eyes. Destroy identity and replace it with malady. Crush dissidents like a sledgehammer. Broken bones and dreams left to die."

JD screamed and Nayoung watched in awe as his voice tore through the slowly distorted reality. It created this super interesting effect on his voice that made it sound almost filtered. Nayoung listened to the rest and after finishing JD put his barriers back up and turned to see Nayoung rocking out and headbanging her hair whipping in the producer section.

"How was that Nayo?" JD asked taking Nayoung out of her trance.

"Oh, that was so good. I loved the breakdown where you held the Hammer growl for 15 seconds, and you guys (Pointing to the rest of the bandmates) killed it." Nayoung said happy. The rest of "The Flying Dutchman laughed and all started packing up. When they finished they all walked over to the other side and began listening to the runthrough. Nayoung sat in the back jamming as they mixed and mastered the song before she realized that one of the drum sections had a similar bounce to it like Honey or Spice. She turned to JD who was focused then smiled.

After they finished this song a couple of hours later Nayoung and Kraken were off in his car. As they drove Nayoung opened the window and had her hand wave outside of it when an idea popped into her head.

“We should go to Krakoa?” Nayoung says happily

“Um, why?” Kraken asked

Nayoung smiled, “Well You’ve never been and I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

"I don't think that's a good idea," Kraken said and Nayoung noticed his psionic barriers were back up. Nayoung smiled and said,

"Worried? That's so unlike you." she chided Kraken.

Kraken raised an eyebrow and then said, "Um well the issue is my dad was quite vocal against the leadership of Krakoa. So the moment they hear my name there may be an issue...or several."

Nayoung looked at Kraken worried, "Well do you believe what your dad said?"

"Some of it yes, and some of it no. He believed that having a super sapient continent that allowed mutants to be gods was a bad idea, which I disagree with. He also believed mutants were safe with regular humans, and seeing what happened with him and various hate groups over the years I disagree, but at the same time quite a few of the people who are in positions of power aren't good people."

Nayoung's eyes widened and asked, "Who?"

" Beast is a xenophobic racist trying to put a wall around Krakoa... Well, it's a psionic barrier that hurts mutants but you get the idea."

"Oh I remember that, but he did say it was hypothetical." Nayoung countered.

"He also made mention of chipping, tracking, and cataloging mutants," Kraken adds.

"Yeah, that was a crazy thing to say." Nayoung agreed

"Also this is discounting what dude said about mutants who stayed with humans as being house n-words," JD answers.

"Yeah Spike was a bit angry then but he's calmed down. On second thought you may be right because they have been in a weird spot these last few years"

"you know what" Let's go. Kraken said

Nayoung looked at Kraken shocked and to ease her worries he said,

"Well you know if I live in fear my whole life then nothing will change, so I might as well try to live outside of that fear."

Nayoung smiled proudly at Kraken, "Okay Let's get you packed."

After getting packed for the weekend trip Nayoung used her mutant's band to transport them to the mutant nation. She arrived in her family's other home. She smiled as she led Kraken to the room they'd be sharing. Kraken was surprised by the massive size of the whole house.

"Wow is your family like rich here?" Kraken asked.

Nayoung shook her head, "No just early adopters. My dad and mom took a chance and were rewarded greatly. It might not seem like it but we are a pretty big deal here."

Kraken nodded as he responded, "Okay that makes sense."

"So you ready to go out and see the country?" Nayoung asked Kraken

Kraken nodded as Nayoung led him outside. As she walked out she shed her "human form" and took on her fiery Psychic form. Kraken smiles as he looks at her, and lets his barriers psionic barriers down.

As Nayoung and Kraken stepped out of the house, the warm breeze of Krakoa greeted them. The sky was an impossibly vibrant blue, the sun casting a golden hue over the lush, sprawling landscape. Everything felt alive here—the trees seemed to hum, the ground pulsed with quiet energy, and the air itself felt rich with possibility. This was a place where mutants thrived, and Nayoung seemed to be in her element.

Nayoung let out a content sigh as she shifted into her fiery psychic form, her energy radiating in soft waves that shimmered around her. She glanced at Kraken, her eyes playful and bright. “Ready for the full Krakoa experience?” she asked, her voice teasing but full of excitement.

Kraken chuckled, finally letting down his psionic barriers. He felt a lightness as the psychic weight he constantly carried dissipated. “Lead the way,” he said, feeling more at ease than he had expected. There was something about being with Nayoung, in this place, that made everything feel...right.

They wandered through the lively streets of Krakoa, where other mutants greeted Nayoung with warm smiles and friendly waves. She was clearly well-known and liked here, and Kraken couldn’t help but admire the way she fit so effortlessly into this world. As they walked, she pointed out some of the landmarks, explaining bits of history and culture.

“That’s the Arbor Magna,” she said, nodding toward a massive tree that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky. “It’s where the resurrection protocols happen. If a mutant dies, this is where they’re reborn.”

Kraken raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Reborn? Like...completely?”

“Yep,” Nayoung replied, her fiery form flickering slightly as she spoke. “Their memories, their essence—it all comes back. It’s kind of beautiful in a way, knowing that death isn’t the end here.”

Kraken thought about it for a moment. “It’s...different,” he admitted. “But I guess it’s comforting, too. Knowing you can come back.”

Nayoung smiled, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you die while we’re here. I plan on keeping you around for a while.”

Kraken smirked, glancing down at her. “Oh, is that so?”

She looked up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Of course. I still have a lot of things I want to do with you.”

As they continued walking, they found themselves by the beach. The sand was soft beneath their feet, and the water was a sparkling turquoise, inviting and serene. Nayoung kicked off her shoes, laughing as she ran toward the shoreline. She looked back at Kraken, her fiery form now glowing more brightly in the sunlight. “Come on!” she called out, her laughter infectious.

Kraken shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he followed her. The cool water lapped at their feet, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. He wrapped his arm around Nayoung’s waist, pulling her close. “This place is amazing,” he said quietly.

Nayoung leaned her head against his shoulder, her fiery aura softly blending with his energy. “It is. I’m glad you came with me.”

They stood there in silence for a while, just enjoying the moment, the calmness of the waves, and the warmth of each other’s presence. Finally, Kraken spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. “You know, I wasn’t sure about this whole trip. Krakoa...it’s not exactly what I expected.”

Nayoung looked up at him, curious. “What did you expect?”

Kraken shrugged. “Something more...chaotic, I guess. With everything I’ve heard about the politics here, I thought it would feel oppressive. But it’s...different. It feels free.”

Nayoung smiled softly, reaching up to brush a strand of his hair from his face. “That’s what Krakoa is supposed to be—a home, a safe place for all mutants. Sure, there are problems, but every place has its issues. What matters is that we have each other.”

Kraken stared into her eyes for a long moment before leaning down to kiss her gently. The kiss was soft, sweet, and filled with all the unspoken words between them. When they finally pulled apart, Nayoung’s smile widened, and she playfully tugged him toward the water.

“Let’s go for a swim,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Kraken laughed. “You know I’m not really a swimming kind of guy.”

“Come on,” Nayoung urged, her hand slipping into his. “It’s Krakoa. Live a little!”

With a resigned sigh and a grin, Kraken followed her into the water, their laughter echoing across the shoreline. As they splashed and played, it was as if the weight of the world melted away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in each other’s light and warmth.

For the first time in a long time, Kraken felt completely free. And he realized, as he watched Nayoung float effortlessly beside him, her fiery aura casting a soft glow over the water, that maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.

As the day wound down Nayoung took Kraken to the last spot he "needed" to see the memorial of the fallen. As Nayoung and Kraken stood by the memorial of the fallen, the atmosphere was somber. The names of long-dead mutants etched into the stone served as a heavy reminder of the sacrifices made to build Krakoa, a place where mutants could be safe—at least in theory. The two of them stood silently, side by side, paying their respects to those who had fought and died for their people.

“I know I should probably say something deep here, but—” Kraken began, only to stop mid-sentence as his body tensed. Nayoung turned confusion and worry spreading across her face.

A pale hand erupted from Kraken’s chest, and blood pooled in his mouth. Nayoung’s heart raced as she watched, horrified, while a familiar, ghastly figure burst forth from Kraken’s body. Cassandra Nova. The pale figure smiled coldly, discarding Kraken’s body like an old shell.

"Ah, well, you were a good vehicle, Dai, but you’ve served your purpose,” Cassandra said casually, as though Kraken’s life had been nothing more than a tool for her rebirth. She extended her hands toward the graves. “Now, for revenge.”

Nayoung could do nothing but watch as Cassandra’s powers stirred the corpses buried beneath the memorial. The ground began to shift, and slowly, the long-dead mutants began to rise from their resting places, their bodies twisted and shrouded in shadowy forms.

Kraken’s vision dimmed, his consciousness slipping as Cassandra’s influence overpowered him. It was like fading into a dream he couldn’t wake up from. Everything became surreal—until a voice cut through the dark haze.

"Wow, that was horrible," the voice said, vibrant and full of energy.

“Huh?” Kraken replied, utterly confused.

“Well, long story short, Cassandra Nova used your mind as a Psionic safety deposit box to revive herself when she had enough energy. Unfortunately, killing you was kind of the last step in her plan. But good news! You’re not dead. At least, not fully. I can revive you, but there’s going to be some... changes.”

The voice explained that Cassandra had altered his X-gene, farming his psionic energy. That was why his barriers had always been up, protecting him even from his own powers. But now, his original mutation could reemerge.

Kraken nodded, unsure of what exactly that meant, but trusting the voice. “Well, I guess that beats being dead.”

“Great! I’ll fix your body, but you’re going to need to fight—like, right now.”

Before Kraken could even fully register what was happening, everything burst into a force of bright colors. Then, in an instant, he was back in the real world, standing face-to-face with a very surprised Cassandra Nova.

“That’s impossible!” she exclaimed, but her disbelief lasted only a second before Kraken’s fist connected with her face. The impact knocked her out cold, her body crumpling to the ground.

The next few minutes blurred together as Kraken dealt with the remaining shadowy corpses and assessed the situation. Nayoung rushed to his side, her face a mix of shock and relief. Kraken quickly explained what had happened with Cassandra Nova, how she had manipulated his X-gene and used him as a vessel for her resurrection.

As soon as he finished, Cyclops approached, his expression stern but not hostile. “We need to talk,” he said, gesturing for Kraken and Nayoung to follow him.

They were led to a secluded part of Krakoa, a quiet space away from the bustling center of the mutant nation. Waiting for them were Beast and Jean Grey, their faces serious as they gathered around to discuss what had just occurred. Cyclops crossed his arms, his eyes sharp as he addressed Kraken.

“We’ve been monitoring your arrival since you set foot on Krakoa,” Cyclops began. “We were aware of your connection to Cassandra Nova, but we didn’t know the full extent of it. Until now.”

Beast adjusted his glasses, his voice clinical but with a hint of concern. “Your X-gene has been... tampered with. Cassandra Nova didn’t just farm your powers for energy; she altered your entire mutation. What you have now is unlike anything we’ve seen before.”

Jean Grey chimed in, her tone softer. “We want to help you, Kraken, but we need to understand what’s happened to you first. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s clear Cassandra Nova manipulated more than just your abilities.”

Kraken shifted uncomfortably under their gazes. “I didn’t know she was using me as a backup plan. But now that she’s gone...”

Cyclops raised an eyebrow. “Is she gone? You knocked her out, but we both know someone like Cassandra Nova doesn’t stay down for long.”

Nayoung, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. “Kraken didn’t ask for any of this. He didn’t know he was being used. We should be focusing on how to help him, not interrogating him.”

Jean nodded in agreement, stepping forward. “You’re right, Nayoung. Kraken is a victim of all of this. But he’s also a survivor.”

Beast interjected, his voice more pragmatic. “We need to keep a close eye on him. If his mutation has evolved beyond our understanding, we need to be prepared for any potential dangers.”

Kraken clenched his fists. “I’m not a threat.”

Cyclops uncrossed his arms, his posture relaxing slightly. “We’re not saying you are. But we’ve seen how dangerous tampered mutations can be, especially ones manipulated by someone like Cassandra Nova.”

Kraken looked to Nayoung, her presence calming him amidst the tension. She gave him a small, reassuring smile before turning to the others. “He’s not alone in this. Whatever happens, I’m with him.”

Cyclops exchanged a glance with Jean before nodding. “We’ll keep an open mind. For now, get some rest. We’ll reconvene once we’ve had more time to assess the situation.”

As they turned to leave, Kraken felt Nayoung slip her hand into his, grounding him once more. They had survived Cassandra Nova’s return together, and whatever came next, they would face it side by side. They arrive at her house for the night and walk in exhausted.

"That knockout punch was so funny." Nayoung teased. Kraken rolled his eyes as they moved around the living room eventually finding themselves in their shared bedroom getting ready to sleep.

When Nayoung bent over to pick something up Kraken noticed her perky jiggly ass for the first time. It looked so soft and squeezable. His intrusive thoughts told him to "grab it" repeatedly. Without a second thought, he reached out and grabbed it. Nayoung yelled at the unfamiliar feeling but as she felt the large hand grope and tease her ass she felt herself beginning to get wet. She turned around to see a dazed Kraken mindlessly grab her ass. She smiled as she bit her lip before turning to him.

“Oh naughty boy,” she teased, and Kraken lost control. He brought Nayoung in for a lurid kiss as he continued groping her soft bouncy ass. He had no idea where these impulses were coming from but just followed them. Nayoung on her part felt his strong hands roam her ass and smiled at him seductively in between chaste kisses. As they kiss Nayoung begins to grind her ass on Kraken’s crotch she smiles as she watches him shiver in pleasure.

“You like my ass baby?” she whispers with a seductive voice before going in for another kiss. Kraken nodded

“Then you should fuck it,” Nayoung said seductively as she casually dropped both of their pants. She marvels at his hard cock.

“Oh nice.” she cooed. Kraken lines himself with her asshole and watches as it clenched. Without warning Kraken slams his cock into Nayoung. She moans and groans in pleasure in pain as she arches her back into him. She rams her aching ass back onto Kraken hoping to get his dick deeper in her ass. As she did she guided his hands to her petite but bouncy breasts.

“Oh fuck yes. Tear my ass up.” Nayoung moans as her slick drips under them. Krakens’s grip tightens around Nayoung’s Breasts as he pounds her tight little ass. She doesn't even need to read his mind to know his brain is overstimulated by her and his new feelings. She laughs when she feels him erupt inside of her ass.

“Oh such a big load for me,” Nayoung says.

Kraken catches his breath as he and Nayoung fall into the nearby bed. She stares at him tenderly. She notices he is still hard for her. She smiles as she gently strokes his cock. She stares at him with the biggest heart eyes she has.

"you know I was beginning to think you didn't find me attractive." Nayoung teased.

"Why would you think that?" Kraken asked

Nayoung groaned as she said, "Well you never made a move until now?"

Kraken shrugged "well the urge never hit me until now."

"Huh weird. I guess Mrs. Nova was locking your libido down too." Nayoung suggested as she began to pick up the pace a bit on her handjob. Kraken groaned as she did so. Nayoung smiled.

"this new body is so responsive. I don't think I have ever seen you so reactive." Nayoung teased.

"Fuck Nayo keep it up I'm close." Kraken moaned. Nayoung smiled and said,

"What if I were to just stop right here, and leave you on the edge." to illustrate her point she slowed down to a tortously glacial pace. she smiled at Kraken, who moaned and bucked his hips into her hand.

"Um no no. I am in control baby. you'll get pleasure when I say so," she says as she grips on his meat tighter. she smiles when little beads of precum drip out into her hand, and she continues to stare at Kraken with those heart eyes before saying, "Okay now." before taking an unrelenting pace that's only goal was to get Kraken to cum. a few seconds later he exploded in her hand, and Nayoung smirked reveling in her control of her man.

The next morning, the sun rose over Krakoa, casting a warm golden light over the island's lush landscapes. Kraken and Nayoung were sitting outside, enjoying the peace and quiet after the chaos of the previous day. Kraken, still adjusting to the idea of being back in his original body, let his mind wander, wondering what the day ahead would bring.

Just then, a shimmering portal opened in front of them, and out stepped X-23, Magik, and Nightcrawler. Kraken tensed, recognizing them immediately as some of Krakoa's elite. Nayoung glanced at him with a reassuring smile, though her eyes were curious as well. They both stood as the trio approached.

"Kraken, Nayoung," Nightcrawler greeted warmly, his distinctive blue skin and gentle smile instantly putting Nayoung at ease. He glanced at Kraken with interest before turning his focus back to the group. "We wanted to check on you after yesterday’s... unexpected event."

"Unexpected is one way to put it," Kraken muttered, his arms crossed. "But I appreciate the concern."

Nightcrawler’s golden eyes studied Kraken for a moment before a look of recognition crossed his face. “Wait… I know you. You’re Daizen’s son, aren’t you? Daizen from Stanford, the professor.”

Kraken blinked in surprise. He wasn’t used to people recognizing his family, especially here. "Yeah... that’s my dad. Daizen Ishikawa. You knew him?"

Nightcrawler nodded, his expression a mix of admiration and somberness. “He was a great man, a prominent pro-mutant activist. He always fought for understanding between humans and mutants. I remember hearing him speak at the United Nations once. But...” Nightcrawler hesitated, "he was also... vocal in his opposition to Krakoa, wasn’t he?"

Magik, standing next to Nightcrawler with her sword resting on her shoulder, raised an eyebrow. "He was the one who said Krakoa would turn mutants into gods, wasn’t he?"

Kraken sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, that sounds like him. My dad was always complicated. He believed in mutants and humans coexisting, but he didn’t like the idea of isolating mutants on an island. Said it made us look like we were turning our backs on the world instead of fixing it."

X-23, quiet until now, crossed her arms and stepped forward. "So what do you think? Are you like him?"

Kraken met her gaze, his face unreadable for a moment before he spoke. "I’m not my father. I don’t agree with everything he said. He believed humans were capable of protecting mutants if we gave them the chance. But after seeing hate groups rise up, after what happened to him... I can't say I have that much faith."

Nayoung placed a comforting hand on his arm, sensing the emotion behind his words. Kraken took a deep breath, trying to find the right way to explain his beliefs. "I believe... that standing up for yourself is the only way to survive. You can’t wait for someone to save you. If you don’t fight for your own freedom, no one else will. And when you stand up, it gives others permission to do the same. That’s how you build stronger relationships, whether it’s between humans and mutants or between anyone. You show people your strength, and that pushes them to respect you."

Nightcrawler tilted his head, thoughtful. “So you believe in mutual respect earned through action?”

“Yeah," Kraken said, nodding. "I think mutants have to show the world we won’t be victims anymore, but that doesn’t mean we isolate ourselves. We have to engage with humans, show them we’re not going to be pushed around, but we’re also not above them. That’s how real relationships grow."

Magik gave a small smirk. "Interesting. You sound like you’d fit right in here after all."

X-23 uncrossed her arms, her expression softening slightly. "You’re saying we need to be strong, but not just for ourselves. For everyone else, too."

Kraken nodded again, more firmly this time. "Exactly. Standing up for yourself teaches others to stand up for themselves. And once that happens, respect grows naturally. It’s not about being superior or inferior—it’s about being equal, but not relying on someone else to define that for you."

Nightcrawler’s gaze softened with understanding, and he nodded in agreement. “Your father was a wise man, and it seems that you’ve inherited his passion, even if your paths differ.”

"I suppose," Kraken replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "But it’s not just about mutants being ‘better’ than humans, or setting ourselves apart. It’s about making sure we’re part of the world, standing our ground, and not letting fear—or anyone else—dictate our place in it."

Nayoung looked up at Kraken, her eyes bright with pride. “You’re right. If we want things to change, we can’t just run away from the world. We have to face it.”

X-23 nodded, stepping back as if the conversation had satisfied her curiosity. "Sounds like you’ve got your head on straight. Guess we don’t have to worry about you being like Cassandra Nova, after all."

Kraken let out a small, dry laugh. “Definitely not.”

Magik’s smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You might just survive here, Kraken."

Nightcrawler smiled warmly, reaching out to shake Kraken’s hand. “Welcome to Krakoa, my friend. I think you’ll find there are many here who share your beliefs.”

As Kraken shook his hand, he felt a sense of acceptance from the group, something that had been missing since he set foot on Krakoa. Maybe, just maybe, he could carve out a place here after all.

As they turned to leave, Kraken exchanged a glance with Nayoung. "Looks like I’m not so out of place here, huh?"

Nayoung smiled. “Told you so.”

Kraken glanced at it absentmindedly, seeing that he was tagged in a post by The Flying Dutchman’s official page. He opened the app, expecting some promotional material for their upcoming album, but as he scrolled through the post, his stomach twisted.

The words felt foreign, even though they were written clearly in front of him. “New sound, new direction. Excited to welcome our new vocalist…” Kraken’s grip tightened on his phone as he kept reading. Anger flared first, but sadness soon followed, settling deep in his chest.

Nayoung’s voice was light and cheerful in the background, talking to her members, but the sharp contrast to Kraken’s mounting turmoil felt like static in his head. She turned back to him, noticing the shift in his energy before she even saw his face.

“You okay?” she asked softly, stepping toward him.

Kraken took a slow breath, forcing a smile that felt brittle. “I’ll try to be.”

Nayoung didn’t seem convinced. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and peppering him with soft kisses. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. Stay safe, okay?”

Kraken only nodded, watching as she headed off with her group. Once she was out of sight, he turned and walked home in silence.

Two weeks later.

At Nayoung’s concert in LA, Kraken sat in the audience, enjoying the energy of the crowd, though a part of him still felt disconnected from the excitement. Afterward, they met up at a quiet burger joint, the dim lighting and soft murmur of conversation providing a sense of calm after the high-energy performance.

Nayoung looked at him curiously, sensing something had shifted in him. He looked different somehow, more distant. She couldn’t quite place it.

“You know,” she began, taking a sip of her drink, “there’s this new artist I found recently. Reminds me a lot of you. His name is Daikaiju. He’s really good.”

Kraken raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Oh yeah? What’s your favorite song of his?”

Nayoung beamed, glad to see him smile, even if just for a moment. “Definitely Rampage. It’s eerie and moody but the lyrics are so fascinating. It’s like he’s trapped in this city full of people who use him. And then there’s Calamity, oh man, that one’s about standing up for yourself even when it’s terrifying.” She paused, watching him for a reaction. “Kind of like you.”

Kraken chuckled softly, nodding. “Sounds like my kind of music.”

“But enough about that—how’s The Flying Dutchman doing? I thought you guys just dropped a new album.”

Kraken’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he shrugged. “You should give it a listen.”

Nayoung frowned, confused. She took out her phone, pulling up the album she’d saved but hadn’t had time to hear yet. She tapped on Sledgehammer, expecting to hear Kraken’s familiar voice. As the song played, she frowned, skipping ahead. His voice was nowhere to be found.

Her confusion turned to shock as she checked the lead single—the one they’d worked on together. Nothing.

“They kicked you out,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kraken nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah.”

“But why? What happened?” she demanded, her anger rising.

Kraken’s smirk was bitter. “It’s simple, really. They saw the fight in Krakoa, saw me getting involved with mutants, and got scared. Said it was bad for the band’s image. I guess it wasn’t about the music anymore.”

Nayoung’s eyes flashed with fury. “That’s ridiculous!”

Kraken shrugged again, the weight of it all heavier than he let on. “It is what it is.”

Nayoung reached across the table, grabbing his hand. “You didn’t deserve that. You’re an amazing artist, and if they can’t see that, screw them.”

Kraken’s smile returned, softer this time. “Thanks. But hey, at least there’s always Daikaiju.”

Nayoung squeezed his hand, determined to support him, no matter what. Kraken smiled mischeviosky as Nayoung hugged him. She noticed and said,

“What is it?”

“Oh nothing,” Kraken responded. Nayoung pouted, “you're hiding something.” she said suspicious of Kraken.

“I am but I can't reveal everything just yet.”

Over the next few days, Nayoung found herself listening to Daikaiju more often than she intended. At first, it was just curiosity. The artist had dropped four singles seemingly out of nowhere, and the buzz around him was growing by the day. But it wasn’t just the hype—it was the music itself that grabbed her and wouldn’t let go. Each track carried a weight, as though the artist was unburdening himself with every note, every word.

Rampage was the first to hook her. It began with a slow, steady pulse of industrial beats, building gradually into a cacophony of heavy guitars and eerie synths. The sound was so raw, almost unpolished, but in a way that felt intentional. Like the music itself was a fight to maintain control, to keep from spiraling. The lyrics were sharp, almost biting. Daikaiju spoke of being trapped, surrounded by people and forces that drained him, used him, and cast him aside. But beneath that rage was something more—a sense of defiance.

The bridge of the song was quieter, almost a whisper, and Nayoung found herself leaning in, waiting for the next line. “Claws sharpened on broken chains… wings clipped, but I’ll soar again,” he sang. There was something unmistakably mutant in that imagery, something that spoke to the struggle of hiding, of being forced to suppress a part of yourself that should be free.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d heard this story before.

As the days went on, Nayoung dove deeper into Daikaiju’s music. Calamity came next, and she listened to it on repeat for hours. The song was slower, more haunting, with dissonant chords clashing against a backdrop of ambient noise. The lyrics painted a picture of cowardice and bravery, of the terrifying moment when you have to choose between hiding or standing up for yourself. “Courage isn’t in the absence of fear,” Daikaiju’s voice crooned, “it’s knowing fear, and standing anyway.”

There was something achingly personal in the way he sang those lines. It felt less like he was performing and more like he was confessing.

Every time Nayoung played one of his tracks, she felt a sense of familiarity tugging at the edges of her mind. It was more than just recognizing the themes of struggle and defiance—it was as if the person behind the music was someone she knew intimately. His voice carried a vulnerability she recognized, though it was often masked by the layers of distortion and effects. Daikaiju didn’t just sing about pain, isolation, and determination—he lived it in every note.

Late one night, Nayoung was scrolling through fan comments on one of the music forums when something caught her eye. Someone had written under a post about Eclipse, one of Daikaiju’s singles: “This guy sounds like Kraken but with more raw emotion. Anyone else getting that vibe?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Kraken. It couldn’t be, could it?

She tried to shake the thought from her mind at first. Kraken had been through a lot lately—getting kicked out of The Flying Dutchman, the fight in Krakoa—but this? This seemed almost too coincidental. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. The sudden change in Kraken’s behavior after the trip to Krakoa, the distant way he had been acting during their last few conversations. There was something unspoken hanging between them, something Kraken hadn’t been able to say outright.

And now, listening to Daikaiju, she could feel it. It was Kraken’s voice. Not just in the literal sense, though it had that same familiar grit and tone—but in the emotional depth, in the way he laid bare his struggles without fully explaining them. This was Kraken, stripped of the bravado and stage presence of The Flying Dutchman. This was Kraken speaking directly from his soul, unfiltered.

Her fingers shook as she hit replay on Rampage. This time, she listened even more intently, her mind racing. She heard the subtle shifts in his voice, the way he struggled to keep the anger in check. She recognized the lines that spoke to her directly, that made her think of the conversations they’d had late into the night about what it meant to be a mutant, about the battles they faced just to be themselves.

It was all there, hidden in plain sight. The identity Kraken had hidden from the world was woven into every beat, every word of Daikaiju’s music. He hadn’t explicitly said it, but it was there, for those who listened closely enough to understand.

Nayoung’s heart swelled with pride—and a deep sadness. Kraken had gone through this alone. He had taken all of the pain, the rejection, the confusion, and turned it into art. But in doing so, he had distanced himself from the people who cared about him.

She couldn’t help but wonder how long he had been planning this. Daikaiju wasn’t just a side project—it was his way of rebuilding himself, of finding a new voice after losing his place in the band. But it was also a way of hiding. By releasing this music under a new name, he was protecting himself from the vulnerability of exposing his true feelings.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized how deeply personal Daikaiju was. Kraken had taken his childhood nickname—Kaiju—and combined it with his first name, Daizen, to create something entirely new. It was as if he was reclaiming a part of himself he had lost over the years, a part that had been overshadowed by the fame and pressure of being in The Flying Dutchman.

Nayoung smiled, a bittersweet feeling washing over her. She had always known Kraken to be someone who fought for what he believed in, who stood up for himself no matter the odds. But now, she was seeing a different side of him—a side that was more introspective, more vulnerable. And she admired him even more for it.

With a soft sigh, she put her headphones down and sent Kraken a text: “You should know, Daikaiju is amazing. I’m proud of you.”

A few minutes passed before Nayoung’s phone buzzed, breaking her reverie. It was Kraken—no, Daikaiju now, she reminded herself. She couldn’t help but smile as she answered, excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

“So, you figured it out. My little sleuth,” he said, his voice laced with a playful mischief that immediately made her heart skip.

“Yeah,” Nayoung replied, trying to match his teasing tone, “on my fifteenth listen of Rampage, I finally cracked the case. I didn’t know you had more in you than just metal, Kraken.”

“Daikaiju,” he corrected, but there was no seriousness in it. “And yeah, there’s a lot I’ve been keeping under wraps. Metal’s great and all, but there’s more to me than just screaming and shredding.”

Nayoung grinned. “Mmm, there is, isn’t there?” She let her words hang in the air for a moment, enjoying the way they teased out a little silence before Kraken spoke again.

“Well, you know,” he began, his tone becoming more reflective, “one of the biggest things I pushed for in The Flying Dutchman was trying new sounds, experimenting beyond metal. But for them, it was always about being technically perfect. Especially Douglas. Everything had to be precise, academic even. Time signatures had to be flawless, tempos had to be perfect, and they were obsessed with hitting every mark.”

Nayoung could hear the frustration in his voice, though he kept it light. “Sounds exhausting.”

“Oh, it was. They were so caught up in making the music ‘perfect’ that they couldn’t finish anything. Before I joined, they could barely complete a song. It was like they were more interested in the mechanics of music than the art. I remember at one point saying, ‘Look, how are we supposed to play half of this stuff live?’ You know? Live performances are where we make a big chunk of our money, and some of their ideas were just impossible to pull off.”

She laughed softly. “I can’t even imagine trying to sing along to that.”

Kraken chuckled in return. “Exactly! It got so bad that it sucked the fun out of creating. Music stopped being about making something that spoke to people—it became a math equation. Sure, we sounded good on a technical level, but we were missing soul.”

“Well,” Nayoung said, her voice teasing again, “I think you’ve done an exceptional job with Daikaiju. Your sequencing is impeccable. You’ve got a way of blending chaos with melody. It’s clever. Really clever.”

“Thank you,” Kraken replied, a warmth creeping into his voice. He paused, as if taking a moment to absorb her compliment. “Daikaiju’s different because... it’s me. Completely independent. I can do whatever I want with it, release music when I’m ready, on my own terms.”

Nayoung giggled. “So, basically, you’re saying you can release music at an almost uncontrollable, chaotic rate?”

Kraken laughed. “Pretty much. Like a wildfire—once it starts, it’s hard to stop.”

“Sounds like you’re enjoying the freedom,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.

“I am. It’s been liberating. No more pressure to fit into someone else’s vision or be perfect all the time. I get to mess up. I get to create without the fear of being judged for it. And it’s funny... the less ‘perfect’ I try to be, the more people seem to connect with the music.”

Nayoung’s heart softened at the vulnerability he was showing. “That’s because people can hear you now. The real you, not the version someone else wanted you to be.”

“Maybe,” Kraken replied quietly, almost to himself. Then, in a lighter tone, he added, “Alright, last question, detective Nayoung.”

“Wait, no,” she protested, “I get to ask the last question!” She couldn’t stop herself from grinning, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Fine, fine,” he said, playing along. “What’s your final inquiry, detective?”

She bit her lip, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “When’s the Daikaiju tour, and when are you coming to Seoul? I want to see you again.”

Kraken laughed—a deep, rich sound that sent a flutter through her chest. “Ah, that’s the question, huh?”

“Of course. I’m your biggest fan now,” she teased, her voice softening. “I think I deserve a VIP ticket, at least.”

“You’re more than a VIP,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone that made her pulse quicken. “I could visit Seoul anytime. You know that.”

“Hmm, well, I’m waiting,” Nayoung said playfully. “Just tell me when.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I’m packed. How does that sound?”

Nayoung’s smile widened. “It sounds like a plan. Just make sure you bring Daikaiju with you.”

“Oh, I’ll bring more than that,” he replied, his voice full of promise. “I’ll bring everything.”

Nayoung’s heart fluttered at the playfulness of his words, but there was an underlying sincerity that made her feel like this was more than just music. Kraken—no, Daikaiju—was stepping into a new chapter, one where he was fully himself. And she couldn’t wait to be a part of it

[cornyforjk]

Drive you Crazy| Day 2 | jjk

SUMMARY In which you are stuck living with an arrogant rookie racer who thinks of you as an obstacle, ready to ruin your glory, but things get heated when he has a pervy smile hidden under that pretentious attitude. Emotions that are complicated. You could never fall for your enemy! He's sabotaging you.

Pairing: racer!jk × racer!oc

Genre: angst and pure filth smut

Warnings: trash language

Taglist: @tatamicc @jwnghyuns

A/note: IK IK I'm going very quick with updating but I'm just ,,,way too excited idkw. Please bear with me 🙈.

___________________♡____________________

The news was just like tripping over a rock.

Relax.

Or it was more like getting hit by a boulder.

The elegant woman introduced herself as Natalie, your new in charge. After the heavy atmosphere with intense eye contact between you and Jungkook that someone could miscalculate as a lovers' gaze, you finally snicker in triumph.

Walking towards Natalie, who held out her pen, inclined for your signature. You would be signing your admission name for the race, and Jungkook would be the one fuming with irritation that no one minded.

Now about the boulder crushing news...

"WHAT?!" You and Jungkook gasp in sync, watching Natalie wince as she hides her face behind the notepad.

"I won't share a room with him!" "Are you crazy Natalie? This swine isn't even real- she will burn me in my sleep!" Jungkook vented, intertwining his hands in front of his chest, eyes begging for sympathy.

"I'm sorry guys, Jungkook is on the waiting list whereas Y/n...we still need to talk to your sponsors, the board, and then assign you a cabin. Furthermore, you will have to hang around together for some time."

The bickering and shoving had people around staring with wide eyes, embarrassment peaked on your face in the colour red that tinted your cheeks and the tip of your ears.

"Keep it down! This is a professional arena." Natalie hushes you both down.

A random man in fancy attire flinched, his eyebrow raising in a barely questioning arch. The click of his tongue was audible enough to make out his annoyance.

You couldn't get any louder, could you?!

Jungkook audibly snorted, peeling off his leather gloves and raking his hand through his hair. His playful orbs followed the direction the man walked in. Jungkook threw him a look.

'What are you looking at, son?'

He cheekily snickered, choking on his cackle that left your tongue-tied.

It would be a dishonour to your ego if you let him have the content look on his face. "Do you know who he is!?" You crowd over his shoulder.

Jungkook blandly shook his head, a confused expression twisting his eyebrows, forehead creased in discomfort. "That's Kim Namjoon! The famous Korean racer, the first rookie to ever win his first race." You chuckled, "have fun winning him over after that look." You elbowed his guts, scampering around Natalie who picked out the room keys.

Your giggles get louder as you follow Jungkook's glossy eyes widen, a petrified look taking over his features, wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. "I fucked up"

You watch him run after the elite racer Namjoon, turning around when you hear metal clanking against your ear. An eager Natalie holding out the keys to your new 'shared' cabin.

"Does that mean I get the larger bed?" You whisper, grabbing the key and eyeing your surroundings, watching out for a fuming Jungkook.

Natalie bowed, walking closer. "Only if you get there first." She winked. Her lips slightly parted as a yawn escaped her lips. "I owe you big time Natalie!" You run, feeling the marble floor vibrate at the heavy steps of your boots.

___________________♡____________________

You flung onto the couch without bothering to look around, accidentally leaving the front door a bit open, making it a teenager's nightmare.

"That was a shitty pick up line!" A crash follows the shout by Jungkook in the hallway who slides the door wide open, halting dead in tracks as he finds you sprawled on the couch.

His heavy breathing contaminates the quiet atmosphere. "Don't tell me the four-eyed nerd gave you the keys first." He referred to Natalie, huffing out chunks of air, bending over with hands on his knees.

Talk about running a marathon-

Calming down Jungkook straightens up, suddenly fumbling back into the door. He turns around abruptly, closing the door behind with a click, boring holes into the floor. His eyes never met yours as he just stood there with no movement.

"I'm not naked you know."

"Not yet-"

Shifting in your seat you stand up, watching him lean on the doorway with a lousy smirk. "I heard that!"

"Not my fault." His smirk turned into a scowl, Jungkook pushed you over and dug himself a seat at the corner of thecouch. Draping a blanket over his feet. His mood swings were worse than a girl on her periods.

The doe-eyed man sighs, tossing in turning his eyes fixated on your legs, and pretending to not care didn't help.

"What are you looking at Bethany?"

He turns your way, throwing a sharp look. "Who even wears mismatched socks?" He tried muffling his throaty chuckle. "No one would guess you are a racer." He laughs loudly, clutching his stomach.

"I just have a different style."

"Different doesn't always mean a good one."

You are about to throw your hands on him, but the doorbell interrupts those revengeful thoughts.

Suddenly you are pulled back while trying to get to the door. Jungkook resting his large hand on your petite waist, looking at his watch. His secured hold did not go unnoticed."Let me go!" You squirm in his hold. "Shhh...shut up for a minute."

Seconds pass by with no one speaking, deep breaths patting your ear, his eyes fixed on you.

The fuck are you up to?! Your eyes scream at him.

Jungkook ignores it by rolling his eyes, sliding his hand down your hip watching you freeze at his warm touch.

Your breath hitched, like a film tape rolling, your eyes rolled back as you closed them shut, throwing your head back on his shoulder.

"I see you are head over heels for my touch." He smirked.

You open your eyes, hands placed over his, trying to break free from that alluring touch.

What were you even doing in his arms?

This damn seducer-

"Ugh! Go away. Why didn't you let me open the door?" Jungkook doesn't answer, averting his gaze while climbing back on the couch trying hard to ignore your question.

"Answer me." You demand.

The authority in your voice pierced through his ear. He wrings his hands together before a wave of calmness washes over him.

"Why am I even afraid of you," he slowly mumbled, chuckling. That same expression changed into one full of arrogance and ego.

The one you hate with all your heart.

"They were calling out registration names for racers." He says, satisfied while you try your hardest to cope with the anger fuming out of your ears.

"You tried sabotaging me?!" Walking swiftly you crowd over him, clutching his collar, "what's your problem Jeon Jungkook."

"You."

"You are my problem."

Baring your teeth you shove him back,Baring your teeth you shove him back, lips quivering as you tightly press them, cheeks turning red.

Oh gosh, this isn't a great time to cry. Especially in front of this jerk!

"I hate you, Jeon." Your words fade away as you run out of the room looking for the registration team.

___________________♡____________________

DM me or send an ask if you wanna be added to the taglist.

[puckinghischier]

please expand on nico being a girl dad! the thought makes my heart melt 😭

he just exudes girl dad energy

like i can just see him watching youtube videos to learn how to do all these different lil hairstyles, practicing on your dog or something silly like that

he would also buy baby girl a new plush every city he went to, continuing the tradition even when she’s all grown up, because he always wants her to know he’s thinking of her when he’s not at home

when you’d bring her to the games he’d always make sure he’s matching his little girl in some way. whether it’s a pink bracelet to match the bow in her hair or purple laces on his skates to match the purple beanie you placed on her head

he always made it a priority to do a few pre-warm up laps with her, too. simply holding her while skating as a baby, but then, once she starts walking, buying her own set of pink, sparkly skates to wear on their mini skate sessions before doors open for fans

don’t even get me started on the way he would make sure all his teammates are dressed and decent before unleashing his little dark headed ball of energy into the locker room after games, knowing how much she loves seeing all her uncles, and how much his teammates love spoiling his baby girl. she would run straight to jack every time, since he takes the role of ‘funcle’ so seriously. she’s put his helmet on and walk around, trying to wack curtis with jack’s hockey stick (per jack’s instructions)

when it’s time for her first school dance, the entire team is over at their house, waiting on her date to come and pick her up, nico front and center. he tells her how beautiful she looks (as if she could be anything but, considering she’s the spitting image of her mama), and lets her know if she needs him at all, he’s only a phone call away, ready to come pick her up whenever she’s had enough. when her date finally does arrive, he takes one look at the hoard of giant hockey players sitting in her living room, not eased in the slightest when she tells him they’re harmless. she knows they’re just protective, though, not worried at all that they’ll do anything to ruin her special night.

and when she’s old enough to start driving? nico is researching every single vehicle on the market for safety ratings and features. he won’t have his little girl driving around in a metal death trap, that’s for sure. but he also wants her to have her dream care, because you only turn 16 once. so when he surprises her with the shiny, new mercedes suv, the look on her face is enough to make him want to shed a few tears, not believing time has gone by so fast

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Princess Ti

Pair: Husband!Tee Higgins x Chase Sister!Reader

Descr: The day everyone’s been waiting for is here, GAME DAY- wait something’s not right. Barely proofread, but it's done.😅

TW: language, mentions of sex, childbirth.

Things Are Changing | Main Masterlist

WC: 5,003

....:::: * * •° ✾ °•* * ::::....

“Y/n, it’s almost kick off!” Your mother-in-law calls out.

You huff hugging your bump, looking at the shirt you’d usually be wearing for game day if you weren’t 41 weeks pregnant.

Usually, you'd be at the game cheering your husband and younger brother on from the stands, but that wasn't really an option this far along in your pregnancy. But you at least wanted to indulge in your favorite game day tradition: wearing Tee's jersey. However, that wasn’t going so smoothly either.

Your bedroom door opens, and Tee’s mom pops her head in. “You okay, darlin’?”

“I would be, but I’m still pregnant, so I’m not.” She chuckles and sits on the bed next to Tee’s jersey. 

“I know how you feel. You’re tired, antsy, anxious, moody. Little princess is really enjoying her time in there.” She offers you a kind smile.

“I think I made too good of home in there. Tee says there’s no better place for her to be than the womb. Of course, he would because he doesn’t have swollen ankles and an extra 30 lbs to carry on his torso. He was so scared I’d go into early labor that I think he convinced her to stay longer. 2 more weeks and she’ll be evicted via C-section, and that’s the last thing I want.” You pout, joining her on the bed.

“Hey, everything’s going to be fine. You’ve been doing everything right to get your body ready for this. She’ll come when it’s right. You said you woke up with contractions, right?”

You nod your head, “Braxton hicks. I’ve been dilated 2 centimeters for a week. Tee didn’t want to go to work, but it only lasted 15 minutes. The last one was actually before you came in, but it didn’t last long. It’s been like this since I hit 37 weeks.”

“Hey, you never know; babies surprise everyone.” You chuckle.

“I think I can fix this problem, though.” She points to the jersey. “Have a pair of scissors around?”

You go over to your vanity and dig out some hair scissors. She takes them and cuts a long triangle up the sides. “Here, now you can wear it and be comfortable.”

You slip the jersey over your white tee and admire her handiwork. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome; now we have a game to watch.” You happily link arms and join your mother in the living room.

“Y/n, your brother is driving me insane.” You roll your eyes when you see her eyes glued to her phone.

“What’d he do this time?” You sit between the ladies and hog a bowl of pretzels as she goes on about Ja’Marr’s post-game dinner requests.

You spend the next half snacking, yelling at the screen (not that you’d ever tell your husband), and listening to your mothers chat about their sons. You fell asleep during the start of the third quarter but woke to the same pain you felt this morning.

“I’m so tired of these fake ass contractions.” You hold on to your belly as the tightening gets worse. “Sorry for my language.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Babygirl, you’re in pain. No one is judging a few curse words, even if we both know you have a sailor’s tongue.”

“Momma, what-whatever, fuck- J told you isn’t- oh my god.” You grab hold of her hand as it’s held out.

“Hey hey, breathe, Y/n, breathe. Are you timing this?” Your mother-in-law nods as alarmed as yours. 

Your eyes squinched, teeth gritted, and you cried out in a pain you’d never felt before. “Mommy!”

“Yeah, baby, I’m right here.” You feel her free hand run your back. You try to do the breathing exercises she tells you and finally exhale when the pain dials down.

“Y/n?” You look up at the woman teary-eyed. 

“I lied, I don’t think these are Braxton hicks. They started a few hours after he left. I thought they were fake until they were happening every other hour. Now there’s even less time between them.” 

“I’m calling your midwife over and texting my son.” Your mother-in-law rubs your leg with a smile.

“Y/n, why didn’t you tell us you were in labor?” 

“Because I’m not. My water hasn’t broken yet, and they aren’t that close together. Tee’s not here. It’s not happening right now. If she wanted to come, it should've been this morning. It can’t be happening.” You shake your head and look up at the TV. As if on cue, your husband catches a pass and runs it to the endzone.

“Aww, babygirl, I know it’s scary, but this is what we’ve been waiting for.” She brings your head to her shoulder.

“The game isn’t over; we can’t just- ohhh fuck it’s back,” you whine as the contractions come back tenfold. You feel it everywhere now, your abdomen, back, pelvis- it was like you were being stabbed and electrified all over.

“Sarah is on her way over, and I called someone to get Tee.”

❁ཻུ۪۪♡

“Great catch, Tee! Great job, baby!” His teammates hollered as the wide receiver jogged over to the bench. 

The Bengals were winning 28 - 18 over the Browns, with both Tee and Ja’Marr catching each pass that came their way. Tee was all smiles as he sat back and took off his helmet. 

“That’s right, boy, show ‘em who's they daddy!” He chuckles as Ja’Marr hypes him up.

“Aight now, only one person can call me that, and she ain’t here yet.” They do their handshake with similar smiles. 

“Now that game gon be special,” Ja’Marr says before one of the sideline managers approaches them. “Hey, what’s the rush?” 

The girl looks at Tee with a sheepish smile.

He furrows his brows. “What’s wrong?”

She catches her breath and then speaks up. “We just got a call from your mom, your wife- Y/n’s in labor.”

“My sister’s in labor! Shit, I guess that day’s today.” Ja’Marr chuckles as his brother-in-law jumps up.

“I gotta go- wait, Coach- fuck.”

“Don’t worry, just go, Taylor knows. Go meet your daughter.” She smiles, ushering him off the field.

“I’ll catch up with y’all later. Take care of them! Good luck!” Tee waves as he runs into the tunnel.  

❁ཻུ۪۪♡

Your midwife, Sarah, arrived at the house minutes after calling her and, making her the third person in your presence who seemed to enjoy your pain. Then, before she could even examine you, you leaned over in pain and felt a small gush of fluids coat your shorts. 

On the way to the birth center, you were shifting between feeling extremely anxious, pure electrocuting pain, and intense worry. Everything was happening so fast, and the fact that your husband wasn’t here was making all your nerves go off. 

“Wow, this room is really nice. I had all my babies in a cheap ass hospital, so I’m not used to this kind of luxury.” Your mom praised as you settled into your birthing room.

“Momma, I’m begging you.” 

Tee still hadn’t arrived yet, it that, along with the fact that you were currently 5 centimeters dilated, was not helping calm your anxiety at all. Sarah and the two moms in the room were doing their best to soothe your aches, but nothing beats the comfort of being in your man’s arms during your time in need.

“Maybe you should rethink the epidural, baby.” Mama T suggests while tying your braids up into a bun.

“Yea, babygirl, it could help. It’s never too late to ask.” Your mom added. 

In return, you shook your head, unable to open your eyes due to the pain. “No, we had a plan. No matter how bad it gets, I don’t want them to take away any of my senses.”

 God, how badly you needed your husband. You wanted him to be the one rubbing your back and helping you through the worst pain you’ve ever felt. How could he not be here right now? He’s been waiting for this day longer than you and is late! 

“Where the fuck is my husband?” You grunt through your gritted teeth.

“He’s on his way sweetheart, just breath.” Sarah coos, earning a deadly side eye from you. 

“I’m going to kill him.”

“How about you think about how happy and relieved you’re gonna be when all this is over and your baby girl is safely in your arms.”

“Why did I let him do this to me?” You groaned, completely ignoring her. As the contraction subsides, you lay your hand over your eyes and let the exhaustion of labor pull you into a shallow slumber.

“Maybe we should start her on some Nitrous?”

❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

About Nine Months Ago..

“My boobs have been absolutely killing me.” You hiss as you palm the tender flesh. 

“Want me to massage ‘em for ya?” You catch the cheeky smile on your husband’s face through the bathroom mirror and shake your head.

“No, Tamaurice, that will make them worse.” 

“Awww, the government name. What did I do this time?” he lightly groans, shuffling into the bathroom like a sad toddler.

“Nothing that this can’t tell us.” You shrug, pulling a box out of a CVS bag. 

“Y/n?”

“Tee?”

“That’s a pregnancy test.” 

Ever since you and Tee got married, you kept a box hidden in the lower cabinet for emergencies. “Yes, it is.” 

“Why do you already have it?” It started as a gag gift from one of your friends. It was a Secret Santa party, and they thought it would be funny since you always joke about how much sex you and Tee have.

“Baby, it’s just a precaution. I could be just PMSing, but we have to rule out the possibility.”

“How many of these have you taken without me knowing?” Enough to know you want this one to be positive.

He turns your body to face his and perfectly reads the longing on your face. You want this to be the last one more than anything.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to have a baby?” You shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“Y/n, I’m your husband. Remember that really expensive party on that mountain of snow? That was a wedding.” He chuckles as you slap his chest.

“I’m very aware that we’re married. It only happened eight months ago. I just didn’t want to be disappointed when you said no.” You frown, looking down.

“Hey, hey. Baby, don’t do that; let me see you.” His voice is calm and soft as he lifts your head to see his warm smile. “If you had told me you wanted to have a baby, I would’ve gotten you pregnant the second we got to the islands.” 

“Really?” He lifts you onto the counter so you can be eye to eye and smirks.

“Oh yeah, there’s nothing sexier than my wife walking around with my last name and my baby cooking for all the world to see. Fuck I’d love to see you pregnant with my jersey on. Then, by the end I get to raise a baby that looks just like you. I couldn’t be happier about that. Then after our little prince or princess is old enough and your ready, I’ll fuck you full of me again until there’s no doubt we’ll have another one on the way.”

Hearing him talk about getting you pregnant is so possessive, dirty, raunchy even, but all around absolutely amazing. He wants this just as much as you do, and maybe more. God, you’re lucky.

Grabbing his face, you smile as big as possible. “I love you so much, Tamaurice.” Then press your lips against his.

He chuckles into your lips and gently returns the kiss, wrapping your legs around him and hugging your body. “Ok baby, now don’t you have a test to take?” He asks after slightly pulling away, just enough for his words to come out clearly. You fully lean back and play with the braids on his neck.

“What if it’s negative?”

“Then I’ll spend the next few days making love to you all over this house, and we’ll enjoy every minute of it.” He said as if it was the sweetest dream he’d ever had, then pecked your forehead. “Okay mamas?”

Oh that name brought chills down your spine. You nodded as he lifted you off the counter and onto your feet. Taking a deep breath, you finally open the pink box and take out the test. “Will you stay here with me?”

“Of course, I will; now go pee on that stick mama.” He winks, slapping your butt as you walk into the water closet (private toilet). 

“I’m right here baby!” You roll your eyes but enjoy every bit of his enthusiasm. “I don’t hear any pissing, just giggling.”

“Oh my god, Tee, give it a second!”

“Want me to bring you some water? Actually I have a better idea.” Then he turns on the faucet. What’s not to love about this man?

Moments later, he hears a flush, and you join him back at the counter. “So…”

“We have to wait 15 minutes for the test to develop fully, " you said, putting the stick back in the box and washing your hands.

“You know waiting’s never been my strong suit.”

You roll your eyes and hop onto the counter. “Tell me a secret then.”

“Only if you tell me one.” He challenges laying his hands on your thighs.

“Deal.” You both smirk and count to 3 on your fingers. 

“Ja’Marr wasn’t the one who finished the rice and peas.”

“I hate making pecan pie.”

Your eyes widen while his jaw drops. “Baby, how the hell did you eat a whole pot of rice and peas?”

“Mamas, who gives a shit about the rice. You said you loved pecan pie. You asked my momma for the recipe!” Tee’s grip on your thighs deepens a bit.

“I said it because it was your favorite, and I wanted that second date! You can’t blame me for liking your fine ass. I would pretend to play flag football if it meant you’d like me as much as I did you. You know I hate running.” You whine, wrapping your arms around his neck and pecking his pouty lips.

His lips curve back up in a smile as he chuckles. “You do hate running, so you’ve made that pie every year on my birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas shit whenever I mention it all for me. You’ve never liked it once?”

You slowly nod, biting your lip. “Nope.”

A smirk grows on his handsome face, exposing his sparkly teeth. “You must’ve really liked a nigga to be doin’ all the cooking with no ring.” 

You snort, rolling your eyes as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Of course I fucking liked you, have you met yourself. You’re probably the most charismatic, fine, intelligent, kind, sexy man I’ve ever met.” You smile, pecking his lips until he meets your lips with more force. 

After the short but sweet kiss, he pulls back from your lips but leaves your foreheads touching. “Damn, I don’t know what I did to deserve a woman like you. But I thank god every day for you. You know I’d do anything for you, too, right? Without you, I wouldn’t be the man I am today. After my first year in the league, I was feeling really low. Then, this angel walked onto the practice field and changed my life. There was no way I would’ve turned you down, not when you brought a light to my life I didn’t realize was missing.” You smile misty-eyed as he wipes away a stray tear.

“Shit, the only thing I regret in life is not buying you a ring sooner.” He says, causing you to scoff.

“Oh, two years was too late for you?”

“Oh, yeah. I was ready to be with you forever from day one. Your big-headed brother is the one who told me to wait, " he smirked.

You chuckle, laying a hand on his cheek. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m yours, and you’re mine; everyone else be damned.” His head turns slightly, and he kisses your palm.

“Just me and you, baby.”

Then the timer goes off.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

When Tee finally reaches the birth center, he finds your mother pacing outside.

“Hey, mama J, what’s wrong? Is she alright? Is it the baby? Oh god, what happened?” He asks with his hands going to the top of his head, panicked and looking through doors to see if anything is happening.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here.” She sighs in relief, taking the corner of his shirt and dragging him inside.

“It’s bad, isn’t it? I told her I should’ve stayed home today, but she was too stubborn, and now-

“Now, she can finally relax because you’re here.” She smiles and turns into the room. You smiled immediately upon seeing the love of your life.

“Oh fucking, finally!” Tee lets out the breath he was holding in and rushes over to your bedside. “You took your sweet ass time.”

He chuckles at your grumpiness and lifts your chin for your lips to meet briefly. “I’m sorry, mamas, I got stuck in the pads and walked into a few walls trying to get them off.”

You press your lips together to suppress your laughter. “Okay, that makes everything better, " you say as the chuckles bubble to the surface. While you release your amusement, he admires how adorable you look in your soft pink gown, with your long braids pulled up into a bun and your large bump with a fetal monitor wrapped around it.

“I can’t believe we’re having a baby. How are you so calm right now? I’ve been freaking out since this morning.” He looks over at your contraction waves and goes bugged-eyed by the giant waves produced in contrast to your bubbly appearance. “What the hell?”

“She’s on nitrous.” His mom looks over, smirking. 

“Shit, momma, I forgot you were here.” He nervously chuckles as she walks over to her son and hugs him.

“That’s ok, you have more pressing matters. You should’ve seen her earlier, though. I thought she was gonna start swinging.” The pair look over at you, taking selfies in your hospital bed.

“Now look at her, giving birth and snapping pics, mm mm mm kids nowadays.”

Then, another wave of contractions hit you a bit differently. “Oh shit.” You raise and hug your belly. “Someone call Sarah right now!”

Tee’s brows scrunch. “What’s up?”

“The baby’s coming.” You take the oxygen mask your mom hands to you and take a deep breath. He comes over and puts his hand on your lower back.

“I know, that’s why we’re here.” You shake your head and grab his free hand, squeezing as hard as possible. “Baby?”

“There’s this pressure- a lot of fucking pressure. I feel like I need to push.” You groan out.

“Wait, you mean push push?” He asks wide-eyed.

“Yes, fuck! Oh my god! Fucking shit! Why the hell did I let you do this to me?”

“Ok, we need to order more nitrous.”

“Hello friends, oh Tamaurice, I'm glad you could join us today.” Sarah chimes, walking into the room in full gear.

“Oh, that was fast.” Tee remarks.

“I heard her from down the hall, so I assume it’s baby time!” Your midwife cheers, rolling her stool over to the bed.

Suddenly, all the anxiety from earlier about Tee missing your daughter’s birth evolves into anxiety about the birth itself. “Wait, wait, wait. Baby, I don’t think I can do this. We haven’t thought this through. I’m not ready. I can’t do this.”

“Hey hey hey,” Tee cups your face in his hands and takes in the immense worry in your eyes. “Y/n, you are way more than prepared. You know exactly what to do and have all the strength to do it. You’ve done an amazing job cooking and caring for her in there, but it’s time for her to be in your arms instead of your belly.”

“But what if I’m not a good mom? What if she comes out and we just fuck her up?” Your voice trembles as you lean into him.

“Mamas, you aren’t going to be a good mom- you’ll be the best. Every decision you’ve made in the past year was for her. Our princess is being welcomed by my queen, and my queen only gives her 110%. My queen also has a king who is willing to do any and everything for you. This king is also ready to meet his Princess Ti, and I bet her momma is too.” He pecks your lips and then smiles as your tears dry up.

“Okay, let’s have a baby.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The following two hours felt like a blur of emotions: voices of your loved ones urging you to push, the hands-on your body holding you up, the exhaustion of the labor wanting to take over. Then, it all fluttered away with a sudden relief and a sharp cry. You immediately slumped back into the bed, the exertion impacting every part of your body. You wanted to fall asleep right there, now that all the pain had drifted away and you felt at ease. 

Then you opened your eyes and saw her.

At first, it was just a tiny head of dark hair. Then your midwife turned around, and there she was, wrapped up in a pink swaddle cloth, one hand swiping at her light brown cheeks and big eyes searching the room. 

“Oh my god.” Your whisper makes her eyes dark right to you, and she lets out a whimper.

“You want your mama, don’t you? Come on, sweet pea.” Sarah coos and you gently place her in your arms. 

“Oh wow, you’re real.” You breathily whisper to yourself. The infant’s eyes stay on you like you're the only person in the world, just like yours stay locked on her. “Hi, baby.” 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Tee leans over to kiss your head. You nod, stroking her tiny cheeks. 

“Yeah, she looks just like her momma.” He smiles, caressing her head.

“She’s amazing, I can’t believe we made her.” You sniffle. “Baby, we’re parents.” You smile, looking up at your husband.

“Speaking of, mom and dad, does our little angel have a name?” 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Tee says as he rummages through the bag he brought. 

“What is it?”

He comes back with three black circular velvet boxes, one twice as big as the other two. “Here’s the real reason I was late.” You watch him smile, puzzled, while he hands you the bigger one.

“What is this?” 

“These ones,” he holds up the other two boxes, “are for our little princess from her uncles J and JB.” He smiles, opening one to reveal a small tiara.

Your eyes widen, and a gasp escapes your mouth. “Oh my god, that is the cutest thing I have ever seen.” Tee chuckles as he removes the small cap from your daughter’s head and replaces it with the small crown.

“Joe’s been asking what he should get her for months. I kept saying something fit for a princess. And he definitely delivered. He reminded me to grab it from his locker before I left. He hid it very well.” 

“And the other one?”

“I’ve had this one for a while. I think it was about a month after telling Ja’Marr that he texted me saying he had something for me to pick up.” He opens the second box.

“He didn’t.” You look up at him in complete shock and take it out of his hands.

“Pure gold bracelet, anklet, and ring set, made by the same company in NOLA that made yours. It was so hard to keep it from you; every time you had a slight ache or pain that made your days long and tiring, I wanted to bring it out and cheer you up. Especially when we found out they went out of business. I know you wanted this for our baby girl so badly. J really pulled through with this one.” Your mom joins you, looking at the set in awe. 

“I didn’t even know he knew about that.” She whispers.

“Me neither.” You sniffle as your husband kneels, takes the small bracelet out, and clasps it around your baby’s wrist.

“There are more adjustable chains for when she outgrows this one, but for now, she’s perfect.” He smiles, kissing her tiny hand.

“What about this one?” Your mom points to the box he handed you first. 

“This one is from me to my beautiful bride, who I am forever thankful for and proud of for doing one of life’s hardest jobs and giving me my baby girl.” You blink away tears as he smiles and kisses your hand before sitting on the side of the bed and revealing the last item. “I told you you’d always be my queen. And since our princess already has hers..” 

“Tee, it's beautiful.” Your voice trembled as he lifted an almost identical replica of the tiara on your baby’s head onto your own. 

“Only the best for the loves of my life.” He wipes a fallen tear from your cheek and kisses your head. Shifting over in the bed, you gesture for him to sit closer, and he gladly scoots up next to you.

Sighing in pure contentment, you lay your head on his chest. “Thank you, " you replied softly, yawning, then gently passing the bag to your husband. 

“We gotta make sure the princess lives up to her name. Ain’t that right, Tiana?” He cooes holding her with one arm and you with the other, supporting her head with your body.

“Yea my little girl’s not gonna fall for those little f boy traps, nope. She has a daddy who will show her the universe, so no one can ever top it but yourself. My precious girl, Tiana...

You swiftly drift off into a deep sleep, listening to your husband make promises to her, knowing he will keep.

ʚ❤︎ɞ ᶫᵒᵛᵉᵧₒᵤ ʚ❤︎ɞ

A few hours later, after you’ve rested and fed your baby, Tiana receives her first visitor.

“Hey, family, where’s my Titi?” Ja’Marr sings, walking in your room.

Rolling your eyes, you nudge your head to where Tee’s sitting on the lounge chair next to your bed. 

“There she is,” he grins, sitting on the edge of the bed to admire her. “Wow, she’s incredible. You did a great job, sis.” He says, handing you two bags.

“Thank you, and thank you. How was the rest of the game?” you ask, opening the bag of steaming food, which fills the room with a mouthwatering aroma, and digging into your Cajun fries.

“It was okay. Most of the guys were worried about you. But we won, so all is well. They even dedicated the win to baby Tiana.” He chuckles, removing the beanie from his head.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, causing some of the fries to fall onto your gown.

He looks back at you, confused. “What?”

“Oh right, I forgot to tell her you buzzed your hair too.” Tee mentions it as if it was nothing.

“Bro, seriously.” Your brother questions, earning a shrug from your husband.

You continue to stare at him in shock but resume eating. “Did you do it yourself too?”

He shakes his head. “Hell nah, not after what I did to him.” You snort, thinking about the impromptu shape-up you had to give your husband.

“Yeah Tiana didn’t enjoy it either; she kicked so much that day.” 

“Baby, you sure it wasn’t because you overloaded on sugar beforehand?” Tee smirked, stealing one of your fries.

Before you can respond, you hear a whine come from his arms. 

“Oh, I'm sorry, Tiana. Are we not paying attention to you?” You smile at his ‘baby voice’ and look over to watch them interact, like everyone else in the room.

“Damn, she looks exactly like you, Y/n. Especially with the gold.” Ja’Marr winks.

“I still can’t believe you kept them a secret from me for eight months. I cried for days when they announced that they were closing down. I don’t know if you're the best or worst brother doing this to me.” He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. 

“I think I earned brother of the year with that set.” You snorted, shaking your head.

“Yea, no, not with that haircut. Now go hold your niece.” You ordered, shoving him off the bed.

“Hey, that’s fine by me. Come on,  Titi, it’s Uncle Marr time.” He gave Tee grabby hands until the baby was passed into his arms then he took the seat.

“Thank goodness you don’t look anything like your dad. You might have his last name, but you got all the good Chase features.” Your husband rolls his eyes, joining you on the bed.

Wrapping his arms around you, he sighs softly. “That’s my princess.”

“I know, honey. Think about this: she might not have it now, but when she gets older, I know she’s gonna have your amazing smile.” 

“You think so?” You nodded, then kissed his lips. 

“I know so because that’s the only expression she’s going to know. She’s going to learn that she has the best daddy who always makes sure her momma is smiling. She'll never have to worry with you by her side.” 

He chuckled, showcasing his award-winning smile. “I love you and Tiana so much.”

“We know, right, Titi?” Your daughter wiggled in her uncle’s arms, trying to find your voice, and then a slight whimper started to bubble.

“Oh, come on, Tiana, we were having a moment.” Ja’Marr pouts as the baby’s eyes start crinkling.

“I guess I’ll give you back now, but I will be back, Titi.” He mumbles, handing her to you.

“Oh, my precious princess Ti.”

﹌﹌﹌ ꕥ ﹌﹌﹌ ꕥ ﹌﹌﹌ ꕥ ﹌﹌﹌

a/n: I don't think I've ever worked on a fic as much and as hard as this one. I'm very glad it's finished, so yall enjoy. The final part of this mini series will be out next week!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged if you liked this fic. (pls validate me lol)

[hopelesswrites]

Book Club 3

Part 1 Part 2

Joseph Quinn X Fem!Reader

-Your book club best friend flakes on helping you move, but sends the son she's been trying to set you up with

-

It had been almost a week, and you could not forget Joe like you did the last time. His face kept flashing in your mind like a bad nightmare. You went to sleep over analysing your last conversation.

It didn’t help that Joe was becoming a bigger face in the media, you saw him everywhere. That was also added to the list of reasons why you couldn’t date Joe, how were you going to date the hottest new actor right now. The thought of people talking about you online just through association was mortifying.

It’s as if the more you told yourself no, the more you wanted him. It was a cruel manipulative trick your brain was playing on you, you felt deceived by your own brain.

On top of all this dreadful thinking you also were expected to move flats this weekend. Not a single box had been packed. You had sent Mary a small text earlier that morning fussing about your stressful weekend ahead and she promised to come around and help you sort your stuff into boxes on the Saturday.

-

Another sleepless night of haunting images of Joe’s gorgeous face left you groggy the next morning. You inspected the place; your flatmate had left you alone for the awkward move out. This tenancy wasn’t the easiest and you both were waiting for your time to find your own place.

Slowly you woke up with a cup of coffee, leisurely flipping through books you easily collected in your short time here to put away when you had more energy. A knock at the door had you perking up, Mary said bright and early but you didn’t think she meant first light (it was 11am).

You called out a quick ‘coming’ before dropping the books gently down in the box, you’ll play tetris with them later.

You shuffled over to the door not worried about being in your pyjamas and slippers around Mary, opening the door without a second thought. Stood there was Joe, you looked around him confused, heat rising to your ears at the realization of what is happening here.

“Mums sent me to help” Joe spoke, equally as awkward.

“She get caught up?” You ask, stepping aside to let Joe in.

“So she says” Joe replied a weak laugh punctuating his statement.

You let out a long sigh, “I swear, I love her so much, but she’s ridiculous”

“you’ve got to get a boyfriend, so she’ll stop” Joe joked, stepping inside and toeing off his shoes.

You scoff, “Why do I have to? You get a girlfriend”

“I’m trying” Joe looked around your living room at the empty boxes you had splayed out.

“How much are you moving?” He asked, picking up one of the books you had just been looking at and flipping it over to read the back.

“Bedroom and most kitchen stuff” You answered, watching him carefully. You already felt weird about having him in your home, but now he’ll be going through your stuff? Mary had officially crossed a line.

“Right then, where should we start?” Joe clapped his hands, clearly done with the small talk.

You directed Joe to the kitchen where you instructed him to pack up all the pots and pans, as well as the plates, bowls and cups. In your bedroom you folded your clothes neatly into your one large suitcase and filled boxes with books. It was peaceful and far less anxiety inducing having Joe busy in the kitchen. The sound of pans clashing together in boxes and crockery being wrapped up filled your ears and you deemed it safe to open your drawer of delicates. Humming to yourself you neatly organised sets of lacy underwear and bras that barely get to see the light of day, not noticing the pause on pots and pans clashing and the shuffling of feet approaching your room.

“Am I doing the glassware as-“

“Fuck Joe!” You cried, stuffing the thong you were holding back into its drawer and slamming it shut.

“Sorry” Joe mumbled looking down at his feet, a teasing smirk on his face. You chose to ignore it.

“Glassware?” He tried again.

“Um, only the wine glasses” You sighed, following him out to the kitchen. You observed the work he had done, almost all of it was in its respective box now.

“You can probably go after that; I can handle the rest.”

You were far from calm now, utterly mortified having the man you have just accepted you now fancy see your lacy underwear. Mary had made a hard task more difficult by sending Joe here and you were ready to be done with him.

“I thought I was taking it all over to your new flat?” Joe asked confused. He was bent down, organising a box giving you the best view of his ass. Why did he have such a nice ass?

“That’s fine, ill get an uber XL”

Joe stood up and faced you, hands on his hips. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll never mention what I just saw, we can finish this job together and get you moved in”

You stared at him for a moment, analysing the situation.

“Come on, what’s next? I’ll do the books.”

Books was dangerous, books were in your room, meaning Joe would have to pack alongside you, and your underwear drawer.

You led him to your bookshelf with two empty boxes. “Just stack them as tightly as possible”

Before opening up the drawer you were previously packing you looked over to make sure Joe was occupied on his own side of the room. You made quick work of more embarrassing things to pack and moved onto the rest of your clothes, your suitcase slowly filling up.

“Have you read this one?” Joe asked holding up a book for you to see.

“Yes” you answered shortly.

“How about this one?” Another book was held up in the air.

“Yep”

You watched him put it in the box and pick up another one, this one displaying a large image of a mans naked torso.

“Yes, I’ve read that one too” you spoke before he could hold up the book.

Joe chuckled, placing it in the box with the others. “For the book club?”

“Not those ones” you answered, heat rising to your face, you didn’t need to be having this conversation with Joe right now.

“I bet mum would like that one, what was it called? Dark Passion”

“Your mums not keen on romance”

Joe faced you a shocked look on his face, “That was a romance? Could have fooled me, looked a bit more like a smut book”

You laughed at his dramatics “There’s elements of romance in there”

“Barely” Joe responded quietly, his distant tone catching your attention. You looked over to see him immersed in a page you knew, just from the place in the book, was particularly nasty.

“Hey! Stop that!” You scolded, trying to snatch the book out of his hands but he turned away, holding the book in the air as he continued to read.

“His chain fell above her face, rocking back and forth as his thrusts grew harder and faster�� Joe stopped, looking over to you “Jesus Christ, id hope my mum wasn’t reading this”

“Close the book please” You whined, ready to wrap the scarf you were holding around Joes neck and end your own suffering.

“Okay, sorry” Joe chuckled to himself, putting it back in the box.

The next hour consisted of you working around Joe to pack the rest of your belongings. You filled his car with your many boxes and did a final sweep of the flat you were so happy to be leaving.

“You didn’t leave your flatmate much to cook with” Joe said, doing his own rounds of the space for anything he may have forgotten.

“Good, she doesn’t deserve it” You scoffed, taking your final bag of clothes and linen and making your way to the door.

“Not a great first flat share experience then?” Joe asked, following you out to his car. You shoved the last bag in the back seat, with a bit of a struggle, and joined him in the car.

“It was an arrangement made out of desperation” You answered.

Joe nodded in understanding and began the drive to your new flat. You had moved a little further out of the city this time, purely due to affordability. One bad flat share does leave a person scarred and the idea of another one didn’t sound all that exciting. You figured this would be the perfect opportunity to start your own little life here in London.

Your new place was a small run down one bedroom unit in a quiet part of town. Joe described it as a retirement village and assured you it was safe and quiet.

“I live pretty close by” Joe added as he was placing a light box in your arms to walk up the two flights of stairs.

Just your luck.

You could already hear Mary, “Joe can pop over to do all your maintenance jobs” in that ‘I’m finally getting my way’ tone of hers.

Inside you dropped your boxes in the small kitchen space. The flat came with appliances and a bed so you were practically all set with what you brought with you, just needed a couch and television.

“This is pretty nice” Joe exclaimed as he walked through the open door with your last box. “I just spoke to a neighbour by the way, lovely lady, she’s baking you brownies apparently”

“Oh, Margie, yeah I spoke to her when I inspected the place, I think she put in a request for me to get the lease”

Joe offered you a puzzled look. “You really have a way with older women, don’t you?”

You laughed at his accusation, “I have an aura apparently”

“Old lady aura” Joe scoffed.

You looked up at Joe, ready to thank him and bid him goodbye. It felt bittersweet, realising that today hadn’t been as horrible as you expected, and that you had actually enjoyed your time with him.

“What are you doing for dinner?” Joe blurted out before you could get a word of thanks in.

You returned him a puzzled look.

“I mean, you don’t have any furniture, why don’t you come out and we get a pint and some dinner” Joe offered, eyebrows raised in suggestion.

You went to reject Joes offer but he stopped you again.

“As friends, honestly, mum didn’t put me up to this. Just get dinner with me”

You considered your options. It was either a pub feed with Joe or Chinese on the floor while you unpacked your wardrobe.

“My shout though, for helping me today”

Joe smiled wide, “Great, there was a nice looking place down the road, happy hour special”

You followed him out the door to start your walk to the pub and reminded yourself:

Friends

Dinner

That’s it.  

[rogueshadow1124]

HOMECOMING

[Simon 'ghost' Riley x reader]

Summary: after being away from home for over five months, simon comes home to find more than a surprise waiting for him.

Word count: 1630

Warnings: none.

The hum of helicopter blades faded into silence as Simon "Ghost" Riley stepped onto the tarmac. After five long months of covert missions, intense training, and countless sleepless nights, he was finally home. But as he looked around, a familiar ache settled in his chest. Home—what did that even mean anymore? The streets of his small town felt both comforting and foreign, and he found himself longing for the warmth of his wife, Y/N.

As he approached his modest home, the memories flooded back: laughter echoing through the hallways, quiet moments spent in each other's arms, and the promise they had made to wait for each other, no matter how long it took. The door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out, beckoning him inside.

With a deep breath, Simon pushed the door open. The scent of freshly baked bread filled the air, mingling with a hint of something sweet. He stepped into the living room, his heart pounding with anticipation. But as he moved toward the kitchen, he halted, his breath catching in his throat.

Y/N was there, her back turned to him, stirring something in a pot. Her hair cascaded down her back, and she wore one of his old sweatshirts. The sight of her made his heart swell. She turned at the sound of the door, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Simon?” Her voice trembled, a mix of joy and shock.

“Y/N,” he managed, taking a step forward. But before he could reach her, he noticed the small bundle cradled in her arms. Confusion surged through him as he stared at the baby boy, whose tiny features were a mix of both parents. “What…?” His voice trailed off, disbelief swirling in his mind.

“This is Adrian,” she said softly, tears glistening in her eyes. “Our son.”

The weight of her words crashed down on him like a tidal wave. “What? No, that’s impossible. I was gone for five months.” His heart raced, and panic began to set in. “How… how could this be?”

Y/N stepped closer, determination in her eyes. “I know this is a shock, but he’s yours, Simon. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I wanted you to see him—to meet him.”

Simon shook his head, grappling with the reality of what she was saying. “I don’t believe you. How do I know he’s mine?”

Her expression shifted to one of hurt, but she remained calm. “I have the paternity test results,” she said, reaching for a nearby drawer. She retrieved an envelope, her hands trembling slightly as she handed it to him.

Simon opened the envelope, his heart pounding as he scanned the paper. The bold letters confirmed what he had never expected to read: Adrian Riley was his son. Yet disbelief still coursed through him. “This doesn’t make sense. I missed everything… How could you not tell me?”

Y/N’s face fell, a mixture of pain and understanding. “I wanted to wait until you were home. I didn’t want to burden you while you were out there, fighting for our safety. But I also didn’t want to be alone. When I found out I was pregnant, it changed everything for me.”

“But you could have waited!” Simon’s voice rose, the frustration bubbling over. “You could have told me. I needed to know!”

Tears slipped down Y/N’s cheeks as she stepped closer, cradling Adrian protectively. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought you would want to focus on your mission without the added weight of this news.”

“Protecting me?” he repeated, his tone softening as he glanced at the baby. Adrian cooed, his little fingers reaching out, seemingly sensing the tension in the room. “This… this is too much.”

Y/N took a deep breath, steadiness returning to her voice. “I understand it’s overwhelming. But please, just hold him. You’ll see how real this is.”

Simon hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at him. “What if I’m not ready for this? What if I screw it up?”

She took another step forward, a mixture of love and desperation in her eyes. “You don’t have to do it alone. We’ll figure it out together.”

Finally, he nodded, his heart pounding. Y/N gently placed Adrian into his arms. The weight of the child felt both foreign and familiar. As Simon looked down at the tiny face, a rush of emotion flooded him. Adrian had his dirty blonde hair and, if he squinted, he could see the resemblance in the shape of his jaw.

“This is… incredible,” Simon murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N smiled, wiping her tears away. “He’s waiting for you, Simon. He needs you just as much as I do.”

As Simon cradled Adrian, he felt a connection begin to form, an undeniable bond that stretched beyond the confines of disbelief. But the doubts lingered like shadows in the corners of his mind. Could he truly be the father this child deserved?

The days that followed were a whirlwind of new experiences. Simon struggled to adjust to fatherhood, often caught off guard by the demands of a newborn. Y/N was patient and supportive, guiding him through the challenges of diaper changes, midnight feedings, and the overwhelming joy of witnessing Adrian’s milestones.

Yet, Simon’s past weighed heavily on him. He found himself haunted by memories of his time in combat, the horrors he had witnessed lingering at the edges of his mind. On particularly difficult nights, he would wake in a cold sweat, heart racing, fear gripping him. Y/N would soothe him back to sleep, her presence a comforting balm.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Simon sat in the nursery, rocking Adrian in his arms. The soft glow of the nightlight cast a warm hue across the room, and the baby’s gentle coos filled the air. As he looked down at Adrian, the realization of his role as a father began to settle into his bones. This was his mission now—protecting this child, nurturing him, and providing the love he had once feared he might not be able to give.

“Adrian,” he whispered, testing the name on his tongue. It felt right, like a missing piece finally falling into place. “You’re my son.”

Y/N appeared in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the light from the hallway. She watched him with a soft smile, her heart swelling at the sight of her husband bonding with their child. “You’re doing great, Simon,” she encouraged, stepping inside.

Simon looked up, meeting her gaze. “I want to be a good father. I want to be there for both of you.”

“You already are,” Y/N replied, her voice thick with emotion. “You just need to trust yourself.”

As the weeks turned into months, Simon found a rhythm. He immersed himself in the role of a father, and with each passing day, he became more attuned to Adrian’s needs. The baby’s laughter was a melody that played in his heart, a sound that lifted his spirits. He marveled at every tiny milestone, from the first time Adrian rolled over to the moment he began to crawl.

Yet, even amidst the joy, Simon still grappled with the weight of his past. Sometimes, in quiet moments, memories would rush back—flashbacks of chaos, gunfire, and loss. On those days, he struggled to shake the shadows, but Y/N remained his anchor, reminding him of the light that had returned to his life.

One evening, after putting Adrian to bed, Simon and Y/N sat on the porch, the stars twinkling above them. The air was crisp, filled with the scents of autumn leaves and the distant sound of laughter from neighbors. They shared stories, dreams, and fears, their connection deepening as they navigated this new chapter together.

“I never thought I’d be here,” Simon confessed, gazing at the sky. “I always imagined myself on missions, living in the shadows. But now…” He paused, looking at Y/N. “This feels right.”

Y/N smiled softly, reaching for his hand. “You fought for this, Simon. You earned this life, and you’re meant to be here.”

As they talked, Simon’s heart began to feel lighter. He realized that while his past would always be a part of him, it didn’t have to define his future. He could choose to embrace the love and joy that Adrian and Y/N brought into his life.

Days turned into months, and with each passing moment, the bond between Simon and Adrian grew stronger. They would spend afternoons in the park, Simon pushing the stroller while Y/N walked alongside them. Simon reveled in the way Adrian would giggle at the sound of birds chirping, his laughter infectious.

One sunny Saturday, as they were having a picnic in the backyard, Simon looked at his wife and son, his heart swelling with pride. Adrian was crawling toward a pile of leaves, reaching out with tiny hands, laughter bubbling from his lips.

“Look at him go,” Y/N said, her eyes shining. “He’s going to be trouble!”

Simon chuckled, feeling a sense of purpose he had never known. “Trouble is what I do best,” he replied, his voice playful. “But I’ll make sure to keep him in line.”

As Adrian explored the world around him, Simon felt a profound sense of gratitude. This was what he had fought for—not just the missions and the battles, but the life he was building with his family. Each moment was precious, a reminder of the resilience of love.

But the shadows of his past still lingered, sometimes creeping in during quiet moments. Simon knew he had to confront them if he wanted to fully embrace this new life. This was his home. His family. It was where he belonged all along.

[kikyoupdates]

Girlfriend-For-Hire ⭑˚🦋⭑ 𝟶𝟸

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

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“Shit. I know it’s a bit late now, but I really don’t want to be here.”

Isaac exhales shakily. You’ve just arrived at your destination and are standing awkwardly in front of his parents’ house. He’s clearly reluctant to go in, no doubt dreading whatever is about to unfold. 

You flash him a sympathetic smile. Since he went as far as to hire someone to act as his girlfriend, he must be desperate to appease his parents. Life is difficult enough without being pressured to do things you don’t want. You just hope that after tonight, they’ll ease up and give him some space. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you promise. You’re not quite sure where you’re getting your confidence from, since this is your very first day on the job, but no matter what it takes, you intend to play your part. 

Even though you’re quite nervous as well, you still muster up the courage to reach out and grab Isaac’s hand. 

“We’ve got this,” you reassure, gently squeezing his fingers. “I’ve memorized everything you told me and I can recite it without a moment’s delay. They won’t be suspicious of us. I’ll do a good job.” 

Isaac briefly glances down at your comparatively smaller hand, which is tightly grasping his own. Whether it’s the warmth of your touch or the sincerity of your words, either way, he looks a bit more optimistic than he did a few seconds ago. 

“Okay,” he nods. “You’re right. I’m ready now. Let’s do this.” 

With a resolved expression, he rings the doorbell, and after a few moments, someone opens the door.

“There you are!” a woman beams. She must be Isaac’s mother, and you have to admit, she looks a lot friendlier than you were expecting. “I’m so glad you’re both here! You especially, [Name]. We were over the moon when we heard that Isaac was bringing his girlfriend!” 

Her gaze briefly pans down, and she notices the two of you are holding hands. This, of course, was completely intentional on your end, and by the looks of things, it seems to be doing a good job of convincing her. 

“Thank you so much for having me,” you smile politely. “It’s really nice to meet you. I hope I didn’t surprise you too much by showing up without much prior notice.” 

“Oh, of course not,” she reassures. “Isaac was the one who decided to keep us in the dark, for whatever reason. But it doesn’t matter. We’re just happy he’s finally found someone! It’s not good to be all alone at his age. He’s at the stage of his life where he needs to start seriously considering his future.” 

Isaac does his best to hide it, but you still notice how his lips momentarily split into a grimace. 

“I’m Mary-Ann, by the way,” his mother smiles. “My husband was just finishing up with setting the table. He can hardly wait to meet you as well.” 

You nod, still smiling pleasantly, and Mary-Ann leads you through the house until you reach the dining room, where Isaac’s father is waiting. 

Unlike his wife, who has a much more agreeable demeanor, he is stern-faced and imposing. To be honest, he kind of reminds you of your own father a bit. Both of them seem like the type to be needlessly strict and abstain from showing their child any affection. 

Then again, first impressions can often be misleading, so you could very well be wrong. 

“Isaac,” the man snaps. “What took you so long to tell us you were in a relationship? Do you get a kick out of deceiving your parents? I’m starting to get really fed up with your lack of respect. I didn’t raise you to be such a prick.”

…nevermind, you’re spot-on. 

“Come on, honey,” Mary-Ann scrambles to intervene. She must be the mediator in the family, or as close as it gets to one. “Don’t be so confrontational right off the bat. Let’s just focus on the fact that he actually has a girlfriend now, okay? Please help me make our guest feel at home.” 

Isaac’s father finally turns towards you, still with that cold look in his eyes, but again—you’re used to receiving the same treatment from your own father.

When it comes to dealing with shitty parents, you’ve got a lifetime of experience in your arsenal.

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir.” You maintain your smile, never allowing it to falter in the slightest. “I’m sorry if we surprised you with this news. I think Isaac was just trying to be considerate of me. I’m a very private person, and he probably didn’t want to tell his family right away to avoid putting pressure on me. But I really do apologize, and I’m glad that we’re finally meeting now.” 

You know all too well what kind of person he is. He values respect and subservience above all else, and so long as you tell him what he wants to hear, it should be fine. 

Well, theoretically, at least. 

But much to your relief, his irritation dissipates quickly enough at the sight of you. Just like his wife, he must be relieved that Isaac is finally seeing someone. It sounds like they’re extremely concerned with the state of his romantic affairs—even though they shouldn’t be. 

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you, [Name],” he nods, offering a tight-lipped, but genuine smile. “I’m Michael. There’s no need to apologize for anything. Isaac is our son, so it was still up to him to confide in us. But I guess what matters most is that he’s finally found himself a girlfriend. For a while there, we were worried that he might not even be interested in women, if you know what I mean.” 

You force yourself to keep smiling, despite the fact that your stomach just dropped. 

Just casually sprinkling in a bit of discrimination on our very first meeting. Fantastic. This is off to a strong start. 

“For fuck’s sake, Dad,” Isaac mutters under his breath.

Michael arches a brow. “Did you say something?” 

“...no.” 

It’s obvious that there’s friction between the two of them, and you can’t blame Isaac for wanting to bury this issue as quickly as possible. 

If you want to receive positive reviews—but above all else, to actually help someone—you’d better do a good job. 

“Anyways, the food is all ready, so please take a seat,” Mary-Ann says, gesturing towards the dining table. You offer her a smile in return, grabbing a seat just beside Isaac. You take it upon yourself to sit across from his father so that he doesn’t have to, and based on the appreciative look he gives you, it clearly doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Mary-Ann happily hums as she heads into the kitchen to bring the food out. You offer to help her carry a few plates, but she insists that you’re the guest and you don’t need to worry about a thing. 

“Your girlfriend has better manners than you do,” Michael tuts. “You should have been the one to offer to help your mother. I wonder when you’re going to grow up.” 

Isaac’s expression darkens. “Okay. You’re right. Sorry.” 

“There’s no point in apologizing. Just be more considerate in the future. Ever since you moved out, I can tell you’ve become rather self-centered.” 

Fucking hell. This really is like a sit-down with your own parents. It’s every bit as uncomfortable as you remember it being, but the only difference is that, as much as your parents were shitty to you, they didn’t go out of their way to air their dirty laundry in front of guests. 

Unfortunately, it seems like Michael doesn’t have that same decency.

Sensing Isaac’s discomfort, you decide to engage his father in conversation and take some of the attention off him. 

“So, Isaac tells me you’re a lawyer,” you say. “I heard you’ve handled all sorts of big cases before. I’ve always felt like it’s a very high-pressure job, especially for the lawyers that actually go to court. I’m amazed you can keep your calm in front of so many people. That’s really impressive.” 

You figure that stroking his ego is probably the best way to appeal to him, and thankfully, it turns out that you’re right. 

Michael clears his throat. “Yes, well, there’s no point in doing a job if you’re not going to do it properly. And it’s also true that not all lawyers can handle going to court, which is why they choose more niche areas of the law. But I find fulfillment in working as a defense attorney and keeping innocent people from ending up in prison. Back when I was younger, I was more enticed by the idea of working as a prosecutor, but I started to see things differently as I grew up.” 

“How so?” 

“Statistically speaking, most criminals are repeat offenders. Which means that even if they get lucky and are found innocent of one crime, they will later commit another and end up in jail regardless. I realized that rather than going after lowlives who would likely be punished at some point or another, my talents would be better suited for protecting innocent civilians from having their lives ruined beyond repair. There’s nothing more devastating than being sentenced for a crime you didn’t even commit,” he mutters disappointedly. “That’s why I’m there to make sure I can save as many people as possible.” 

You nod in understanding. What he’s saying makes sense, and in all fairness, he doesn’t strike you as being malicious or cruel—although perhaps quite strict and old-fashioned—but don’t defense attorneys also have to represent criminals every now and then? 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Michael chuckles. “Over the years, I’ve risen to a reputable position where I can afford to be picky with my clients. I do diligent research beforehand to determine whether it is truly someone in need of help, or a criminal looking to get away with their crime. Since I’m a private attorney, I’m not assigned to any cases without my volition. Of course, I realize not everyone is as fortunate to be selective in the way that I am, but this is ultimately the result of my own hard work. I painstakingly built up my career and am now in a place where I can take absolute pride in what I do.” 

You make a point to show that you're listening attentively, even though you can hear Isaac scoffing quietly from beside you. 

“But enough about me for now,” Michael dismisses. He casts a glance over his shoulder. “Ah, there comes Mary-Ann with the food. It smells delicious, honey. I can already tell you’ve outdone yourself.” 

Mary-Ann giggles while setting the plates down. “Save the compliments until you’ve actually tried it first. Anyways, is everyone ready to dig in?” 

You smile and nod, and it seems like Michael wasn’t just trying to get on her good side, because everything really does taste incredible. 

“Wow, you’re such a good cook,” you remark, covering your mouth as you finish chewing. “This is so yummy! It could seriously pass as a dish in a gourmet restaurant or something.” 

“Oh, please,” Mary-Ann blushes, but it’s clear that she doesn’t mind the flattery. 

“Yeah, this is really good, Mom,” Isaac seconds, happily digging in. 

“Mary-Ann has always been an amazing cook,” Michael says, eyes full of pride. “She probably could have opened a restaurant if she really wanted to, but she’s a woman of many talents and was already preoccupied with her career.”

It certainly seems like they’re still very much in love, which is a good thing, especially for married couples who’ve been together for many years. Still, it’d be nice if that warmth and affection extended to Isaac as well. You really wish his father was kinder to him. 

It’s quiet for a while, since everyone’s busy enjoying the first few bites, but you suddenly notice Michael’s gaze lingering on Isaac, and after swallowing his food, he scowls.

“You’re still wearing that earring,” Michael remarks in disgust. “Didn’t I tell you to get rid of it? People will get the wrong idea about you. It helps that you finally have a girlfriend now, but still. You’re going to be a doctor, for crying out loud. Put some thought into how you present yourself.”

Isaac narrows his eyes. “I don’t see what the big deal is. I’m still young. It’s not like I’m going to start working as a doctor anytime soon.” 

“People that see you for the first time will think that you’re shallow and cheap. You look like you’re supposed to be some kind of male stripper.” 

“And how would you know what a male stripper looks like?” Isaac challenges. 

Michael’s face turns dark red in an instant, and he slams his fist on the table, making the plates and cutlery rattle.

“Watch your goddamn mouth,” he warns. “I refuse to be disrespected in my own home. Not to mention in front of a guest.”

The tension is so thick you could probably cut it with a knife, but to you, this is more than just an uncomfortable dinner. This is a job, which means you need to remain professional and not let any of it get to you. 

“I think Isaac looks handsome no matter what,” you decide to interject. “He can pull off all kinds of things that most people can’t. But he clearly gets his good looks from both of you. I can’t help but be jealous of his genes.” 

Once again, empty flattery seems to be your escape, and Michael chuckles awkwardly, perhaps a touch embarrassed, but at least he’s not berating his son anymore. 

From underneath the table, Isaac squeezes your hand. You agreed beforehand that it was okay for him to hold your hand and hug you, so that your relationship didn’t look too stiff or forced, but this time, he isn’t doing it to put on airs. 

There’s a faint blush on his cheeks, and his eyes are full of appreciation. He even mouths a silent ‘thank you’.

You blink a few times. 

Was it really that big of a deal? I’m sure anyone else would have done the same. His dad keeps grilling him for no reason, and I feel uncomfortable being trapped in the middle. 

You suppose he’s probably not used to having someone be by his side while he has to deal with his father. At the very least, it seems your presence here is making somewhat of a difference. 

“You asked me a few questions earlier, so now it’s my turn to ask you,” Michael suddenly says. “Are you and Isaac roughly the same age? Are you still in school, or have you already graduated?” 

Well, it looks like it’s finally time for this part of the night. The part where you’ll have to seamlessly answer every question they throw your way. 

But it’s fine. You practiced for this. You studied all the information Isaac sent you as if you were preparing for an exam, and you’ve got all your facts memorized. Michael is a lawyer, so he’ll probably be looking for holes or inconsistencies in your story, but it doesn’t matter. 

You promised Isaac you’d be the best girlfriend he could ever ask for, and that’s exactly what you intend to do. 

“We go to the same university,” you reply confidently. “Actually, we’re in the same major too. That’s how we met. We have a class together. Isaac is always really on top of all the material, so he helped me study a bunch of times.” 

Michael looks rather pleased to hear that. “Oh, really? That’s good. I was worried he wasn’t keeping up with his studies, but I’m glad he’s been taking it seriously. So, you also plan on becoming a doctor?” 

“Yep! I know it won’t be easy, but I want to help people as much as I can,” you beam. 

“It’s great that you have so much in common,” Mary-Ann remarks. “Medical students have a big workload, so it’s nice that you can relate to one another. Even better if you can help each other study.” 

“Have you already taken the MCAT?” Michael asks. 

“I did,” you nod. “I passed it and got a pretty good score, so I’m just waiting to hear back from the medical schools I applied to. Hopefully Isaac and I can both start next year. It’d be nice if we ended up at the same school too.” 

“Perhaps it’s better if you go to separate schools,” Michael frowns. “Medical school isn’t easy for anyone, and I worry you might end up getting distracted. Maybe you’ve got a strong work ethic, [Name], but Isaac is prone to slacking off.” 

What slacking off? He told me he scored in the 90th fucking percentile, which means he’s all but guaranteed his top medical school choices.

You strain a smile. Honestly, it’s exhausting constantly seeing parents hold their children to ridiculous standards. You and Isaac have a lot in common in that sense. No matter what you accomplish, no matter how hard you push yourselves, it feels like they’ll just never be satisfied. 

“I’ve never seen Isaac get distracted,” you insist. “He’s probably got the best grades out of our entire senior year. Anyways, even if attending the same school would be nice, I think we’ll be fine no matter where we end up. We’re both willing to put in the effort.” 

Mary-Ann nods happily. She’s clearly the more easygoing of the two. She actually seems quite nice, all things considered. Michael is the real hard-ass around here. You just hope you’ve done a good job of convincing him so far.

“I guess medical school is still a ways off,” Michael acknowledges, taking a sip of water. “But I’m glad you scored well on the MCAT. It sounds like Isaac’s finally found himself a good girlfriend. You’re open to marriage, I take it?” 

Isaac tenses up. “Dad, please—” 

“Quiet. I was asking her, not you.” Michael turns back to you and smiles. “Well? I hope you’re not part of that new, incredibly stupid fad where young adults such as yourself choose not to get married. It’s very sad to see how people these days view marriage. If you’re not willing to commit to marriage, then really, do you even value the relationship at all?” 

“We’ve barely been dating for over a month,” Isaac grits out. “Don’t you think you’re freaking her out with the marriage talk? I’m sorry, [Name]. He’s clearly getting carried away.” 

“I’m not speaking as if the two of you are getting married anytime soon,” Michael sighs. “I just want to know what her take on marriage is in general. I want to make sure she doesn’t have twisted values like the rest of the younger population these days.”

Isaac is visibly uncomfortable, scratching incessantly at the back of his head. It must be some kind of nervous tic. He’s done it a couple times this evening. Poor guy clearly wants to get the hell out of here.

But you’re not about to get worked up over Michael’s intrusive questions. All of this is pretend, and thus far, you have yet to actually divulge any real facts about yourself. He doesn’t truly know what kind of person you are. He’ll probably never know. 

So, you smile, completely unfazed. 

“Of course marriage is important. If I’m confident about spending the rest of my life with someone, what reason is there not to get married?” 

Michael doesn’t respond verbally, but he nods and smiles, clearly pleased. All evening, you’ve done your best to appeal to him and convince him that your relationship with Isaac is the real thing, and he doesn’t seem suspicious in the slightest. 

Still smiling, you lean over and rest your head on Isaac’s shoulder. He knows exactly what you’re getting at, so he smiles back and wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. 

Both Michael and Mary-Ann watch with approving gazes. The tension has finally dissipated, and everyone is content. 

It looks like you might be better at this than you first thought.

“I’m bored of this relationship. Let’s break up.” 

Callum blinks lethargically. His pale gray eyes feel heavier by the second, and even though most people would normally be taken aback to hear those words spoken to them, at this point, it doesn’t even faze him anymore. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” his girlfriend—or rather, ex-girlfriend repeats. “I’m breaking up with you, Callum. I’m serious this time.” 

Yeah, right. 

How many times has she broken up with him by now? He’s honestly lost track. It always comes out of nowhere too. It’s as if she’s trying to catch him off guard or something. 

“Okay,” Callum shrugs. “I know it’ll blow over before long anyways. It always does. I bet you’re just in a shitty mood. Did your period come early?” 

His ex scowls, visibly disgusted. “It’s because you say those kinds of things that I don’t want to be with you anymore. You’re such an asshole.” 

“Come on, Nadia. Don’t act like we haven’t had this same conversation a million times by now. You always do this. So, I’ll give you space or whatever until you cool off. There’s no need to get so worked up.” 

“I said I was serious this time. I’ve wasted enough of my life on you.” 

With a derisive sneer, Nadia swivels around and struts off. The whole while, Callum watches with his hands shoved into his pockets. He doesn’t feel even a twinge of worry, because he already knows how this little game will end. She’s never once been serious about breaking up. Why should this instance be any different? 

But for the first time, he feels something other than indifference when it comes to being broken up with. 

He’s actually kind of pissed off.

Nadia’s been getting a little too carried away lately. She seems to think that just because he’s mellow and laid-back, it gives her the right to walk all over him. It’s a tiresome routine, and he’s gotten pretty sick of it. 

Even though he knows Nadia will come back to him, just like she always does, perhaps it’s time to teach her a lesson.

As chance would have it, he’s been hearing a lot of buzz about a new app recently. Some kind of companionship service that allows people to hire someone to act as their significant other for a period of time. 

Partner For Hire. Yeah. This is the one. 

Having downloaded the app, Callum proceeds to scroll through its catalog and see what it has to offer. Just as advertised, it looks like all kinds of people are offering their dating services at a certain price. Some assholes are charging ridiculous numbers just for a single day’s worth of fake dating. It’s actually kind of unreal, because as far as Callum is concerned, they’re really nothing special.

“No, no, no,” he repeats, scrolling endlessly through all the options. “God. None of these chicks are even that cute, and they expect me to blow a fuck-ton of cash on them? Get real.” 

Honestly, he’s kind of disappointed by how mediocre the options are. Then again, he figures it’s mainly losers that use this app. People that are too pathetic to be in a real relationship. 

The more he scrolls, the more discouraged he feels, because he doubts any of these women would be able to make his ex-girlfriend jealous. She has no reason to feel threatened over a downgrade, and none of these uggos are going to get the job done. 

Just as he’s about to toss his phone aside and consider another approach, he stumbles across a profile that actually catches his eye.

“Whoa,” he blinks. “She’s hot as hell.” 

Callum nods approvingly. Yeah. If it’s with someone like you, then even Nadia would have to reconsider her shitty choices. He’s already got a huge smirk just imagining how horrified she’ll be when he shows up with his “new” girlfriend in tow. 

Looks-wise, he’s hit the jackpot. There’s no guarantee that you’ll actually be up to his standards, but hey, he figures it doesn’t hurt to give it a try. 

More importantly, if Nadia sees you with him, she’s guaranteed to lose her shit. 

“Maybe next time you shouldn’t be so quick to break up with me,” he chuckles coldly. “Stupid bitch. You’ll be begging for me to take you back by the end of this.” 

[𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭?]

>> [𝐘𝐄𝐒]

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