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churipu · 7 months

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"SHUT UP, MAMA." 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, nanami kento

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. fem! reader, husband! au, i made names for your children but feel free to disregard it

note. i remembered this tiktok trend, just figured i should write about how the jjk men would react to their child doing this.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

gojo had a day off. it's rare for a jujutsu sorcerer like him — being the strongest, he's an asset to the jujutsu world. so him being in a day off is like a miracle to both you and your seven year old son, who might i say, is an exact carbon copy of your husband.

"honey, you need to put your toys away. it's almost dinner time," you said from the kitchen, gojo by your side, ready to help you with anything.

"let me take that," he sings out, grabbing two plates from your grasp — you chuckled, letting him take the white colored ceramic disk, "looks good, baby."

as you and gojo walked out of the kitchen, placing the plates on top of the dining table. gojo pulled out your seat for you. habits die hard, the male has always pulled your seat out for you since the very first date.

your son. marise gojo. a boisterous little boy, absolutely loves to play with his rocket toys, and somehow believes he's a little astronaut. there he sat in front of the TV, playing with his toys, an astronaut helmet covering his small head.

"buddy," gojo calls out to the boy, "it's dinner time, clean up your toys. mama made some good food."

when gojo's call didn't work, you tried doing it next, "marise, your food's going to get cold, honey."

the young boy didn't make any visible movements, but you heard him yell out with his high pitched voice, "shut up, mama!"

gojo looks at you briefly. i mean — as a father, he couldn't believe his own son said that. to his mother. gojo wasn't one to get mad, in fact, marise is a total daddy's boy. but he felt angry, frustrated, annoyed, all at once.

he wasted no time leaping up from his seat, approaching the young boy. his smile no longer visible; gojo was unhappy. the male used one of his hands to take off marise's astronaut helmet, tossing it aside before grabbing the young boy by his small waist.

marise didn't complain, and he still has no idea of what his father is about to do. so he just sat still in gojo's embrace — until gojo puts him down beside you, "say sorry."

marise's bright blue eyes stared up at gojo in confusion, "say sorry to mama, marise."

it wasn't "baby" or "buddy" like gojo used to address him by, and marise wasn't stupid. he knew he did something wrong, but he just didn't get what or why his father is telling him to apologize to you.

"sorry mama . . ." marise's soft voice resounds.

"do you know what you did wrong?" gojo questions sternly.

marise shook his head, his eyes watering at gojo's tone of voice, "no papa . . ."

gojo sighs, he squats down and gazes into his son's eyes, "you should never say 'shut up' to mama or papa, okay? not to anyone, 'ts not polite. don't ever do that again, now say sorry to mama for saying that."

marise nods his head and turns to look at you, his eyes watering — it's not everyday that you get to see papa gojo get angry, "'m sorry mama, i will never do that again," the young boy finally cried, letting his tears fall out of his doe eyes.

you can't help but to smile at the young boy, pulling him onto your lap to cradle him, "don't do that again, baby. 'ts not polite," your fingers grazed his chubby cheeks, wiping his tears away, "and if mama or papa tells you to stop playing and eat, what do you do?"

marise sniffled, "stop playing and eat."

"good boy," you kissed his little forehead, "go give papa a kiss."

and that marise did, gojo immediately picking the boy into his arms with a big smile, "give papa two kisses, buddy."

sure, gojo is a fun parent. but he knows how to teach his children boundaries — what to do and what not to do. he's scary when he's angry.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

megumi is the child that made you and toji think you both should have another child — fukuo is the child that made you and toji stop wanting more children. not saying that fukuo is a bad kid, but the boy is relentless.

with a pretty large age difference between megumi and fukuo with six years, sometimes megumi had to teach fukuo some manners, telling the younger boy what's right and wrong. when fukuo misbehaves, it's megumi and you to the rescue — while toji would usually chuckle it off since, well, he's a little minus on the manners part as well. but you're working on that.

toji said so himself, he wouldn't mind fukuo misbehaving on some things. but the male did set some boundaries up for both of his boys and how they should act well towards you (and him).

today, megumi is twelve and fukuo is six. both of your boys look alike, "mama, 'm gonna be staying late at school because we have a play coming, 'm gonna help my classmate decorate the stage," megumi tells you as he puts on his shoes.

"alright, baby. have a good day at school, i love you," you pressed a kiss on megumi's head, waving him goodbye.

as megumi disappears behind the front door, you walk back inside the house, "toji, wake fukuo up, please. 'm getting his breakfast ready," toji who had his eyes on the television curtly nodded, sluggishly walking towards the boy's room.

"hey, champ." toji approaches the boy, who was sleeping soundly, "your mother's made some good food f' you. if you're not gonna eat it, i'll steal your portion."

fukuo squirmed a bit, but his eyes were still shut tightly, "fukuo," toji gently shook the boy, poking his cheek.

like anyone, fukuo didn't like his sleep disturbed, "papa, stop . . ." he mumbled out, shifting his small body so his little back was facing toji, "five more minutes."

toji sighs, "five more minutes."

he then went out of the room, "he asked for five more minutes," he informs you — sitting back down on the couch.

"five more minutes," was not an unfamiliar statement to you, especially coming from fukuo who had always managed to, of course, butcher the concept of time right after. it was either an hour, or more.

so you waited five minutes, and when the young boy didn't emerge from his bedroom, you found yourself walking towards it, "fukuo? baby, come on, mama made you breakfast . . ." you turn on the light, which made fukuo subconsciously twitch.

"fukuo, come on, papa will eat your breakfast . . ." you shook the boy gently.

"shut up, mama."

you blinked in surprise, but only managed out an exasperated sigh at the boy's sudden outburst, until all of a sudden toji appears beside you — his hand wet, and he slides his palm across the boy's face with a serious look on his face.

"wake up, fukuo. i won't tell you this again," toji mutters out, "three."

oh, god. the countdown was every kid's nightmare, "two," including fukuo's — shown by how the young boy immediately sat up on his bed, "apologize to your mother."

fukuo furrowed his brows, "why?"

"you don't tell her to shut up. apologize." you were just there silently, a little shocked at how toji had become so serious when he's usually so laid-back with the boys, "say sorry and eat your breakfast."

fukuo swallows his saliva nervously and scoots over to you, "'m sorry for telling you to shut up mama, i promise i won't do that again . . ." he whispers, throwing his short arms around your neck — burying his face into the crook of your neck.

you pulled him close, carrying the young boy in your arms, "'ts okay baby, no more telling people to shut up, okay? 's not nice, it'll hurt people's feelings."

"okay mama . . . 'm sorry for hurting your feelings," fukuo pulls back slightly, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek before facing toji, "'m sorry for hurting mama's feelings, papa."

toji placed his palm over the boy's face, covering it entirely, a sheepish smirk plastered on his lips, "go brush y'r teeth and eat your breakfast, mama made some pancakes."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

nanami is such a girl dad. ever since he found out that both of you were going to have a baby girl, he's delighted. just knowing that he'd have a mini version of the both of you made his stomach churn in happiness.

hoshi. nanami hoshi is her name. it was a very peaceful six years of raising her — but they said there will be a devil baby phase, and here she was. whining, throwing tantrums over things she didn't get. it was honestly tiring, but you knew this was a risk of raising a child.

"hoshi, baby, please stand up." you cooed down at the girl who was lying down on the ground. in the middle of a mall, "mama and papa will buy that toy for you next time, i promise."

nanami was by your side, holding onto the baby stroller. his eyes were unreadable, you don't know what he had in mind, but the look he peered at your daughter was plainly and eerily terrifying.

yes, there are moments where he spoils hoshi with what she wants. toys, food, drinks, you name it. but there are times where he declines because he didn't want her to grow up too spoiled, "i wan' that toy, mama!"

you inhaled sharply, trying to slide your hand underneath her armpits to pick her up, but hoshi refused by kicking your hands away. her little kicks barely scratched you — but the people looking at your small family as they passed by definitely got a little kick to you.

"baby, people are looking at you . . ." you whispered.

"i don't care, shut up, mama!"

that was the last straw for nanami who had been silent. he grabbed your arm and tugged you up gently, nodding at you as if telling you to leave this one to him.

you backed away slightly, taking a hold of the stroller nanami had let go a few seconds prior as he squats down. forcefully but gently slipping his hands underneath hoshi's armpits, carrying her into his arms.

"mama said we will buy that toy for you next time, okay?" he sternly said, eyeing his little girl who was now silent as she gazed into his eyes, "and you never. never tell mama to shut up, do you understand?"

hoshi nods her head slowly, lips quivering at her father's sudden lecture, nanami's eyes visibly softened and he rocked her in his arms, "papa's not angry at you, hoshi. but papa wants you to know that telling mama to shut up is not polite, okay?"

again hoshi nods her head.

"go and say that you're sorry to mama," he pecked her chubby cheeks before letting her down onto the ground.

hoshi's little legs ran towards you, hugging your leg, "'m so sorry mama," she muffles into your leg, "i don't want the toy anymore, mama. 'm sorry for being a bad girl."

you squat down, nuzzling your nose to her, "you're not a bad girl, baby . . . mama and papa will buy you that next time, okay? we promise."

"okay, mama. i love you."

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ave-the-enby · 1 year

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Thinking about CJ and Isaac, I'll introduce them better at a later date. But they're identical twins. Anyways, Isaac is the one who tries to get his parents recipes but they tell him no. One day CJ tried and was told no as well. So they tried teaming up and after a long while their parents gave in. Or so they thought, they weren't given any exact measurements to their dismay and also found out at a much later date that they weren't told all the ingredients. CJ caught his momma adding an ingredient when she told him to go get something from the garage. They felt incredibly betrayed.

#There's a reason for it #Their parents want them to develop their own recipes #They'll give the base but throughout trial and error they'll develop their own recipes and can pass those down if they want to #It's so it's made out of love and not a carbon copy of what their parents make #When they're much older they'll get the actual recipes but until then they are developing their own #CJ #Isaac #CJ and Isaac #original characters

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cheralith · 1 year

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to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, "mother"/"daughter"/"wife" used, parental death, mentions of child abandonment, not too much mention of him being spider-man

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, hints of pining, just some good ol' fluff for everyone's current favorite dilf, angst w/ comfort, heavy need of editing prob, not beta read

notes ; purely self-indulgent to fuel my love of found family trope apologies

parts: one two three four (tba)

Single Father!Miguel O'Hara whose life revolves essentially around one person—his daughter—but to be one of the heads of America’s largest corporation and bearing the responsibility of keeping Nueva York safe and sound whilst simultaneously being a single father was not exactly something that Miguel O’Hara could juggle so easily. Hell, he’s even surprised that he’s made it so far without losing his absolute sanity considering he couldn’t even recall the last time he was able to rest properly without his attention being wavered to something or someone else.

Single Father!Miguel whose hands always filled to the brim with tasks and obligations. Miguel wished he was able to clone himself twice in order to have three Miguel O’Haras attending to each of his duties soundly, but alas, Alchemax and the matter of his mind can only do so much.

Single Father!Miguel whose ever so lucky to have you as his assistant to at least help with two out of three of them. You entered the picture around three years ago, when he had caught the eye of his superiors and had used his intelligence to their own advantage, disguising it as a promotion of sorts. You were given as some sort of gift to them as a way to help ease his workload and he truly couldn’t be more thankful for your existence—if he doesn’t necessarily show it most of the time from his stoic countenance he masks on 24/7. While not exactly a carbon copy of him, you, by far, come rather close, and Miguel will take whatever comes to him in this day and age.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that you're obedient and demure, though rather soft spoken and a little too apprehensive for his liking at times (he had noticed, before you became his assistant, that your coworkers would shovel their workload onto you and you’d accept with little complaint but evident hesitation; he wonders if it was the given similarities between you and him that made him choose you as his assistant). You dressed well, hung onto every word he said, and spoke out when properly needed. You were a good aid to have around—great, even.

Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.

Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.

Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.

Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.

Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.

Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.

Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).

Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.

Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.

Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.

"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"

He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.

Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.

Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.

Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.

Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.

Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.

Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.

Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.

Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.

Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.

"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"

"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.

"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"

Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.

Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.

"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"

"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."

You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.

"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."

You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"

"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.

"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.

So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.

"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."

He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.

"(Y/N)."

At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"

Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"

"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.

"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.

"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."

Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.

"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.

a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)

anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!

as always, thank you for reading and likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed（╹◡╹）♡!

#spider-man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader

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riediaries · 9 months

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the wailing sound of a baby fills up the room for the nth time tonight. the crying continues and becomes louder throughout the second.

you groan, waking up from your needed sleep. as much as you want to wake up satoru to take care of her, you can't. you are both equally tired and sleep-deprived because of your daughter.

you try to get up slowly to not wake up satoru but he already beat you into it. he gets up and pushes your body gently to the bed.

"sleep some more." he leans down to give your forehead a kiss and then gets up to be with his baby daughter.

"hi mochi." he smiles to her. that smile alone makes her feel really safe and comfortable as she's now calming down. she raises her two chubby hands, wanting her daddy to carry her.

"do you think it's too early for you to wake us up?" he jokes. satoru checks her diaper for poop just in case and after that, he carefully puts his gentle hands on her body to lift her up.

you can not take off your eyes on the scene unfolding in front of you. quietly observing the two white haired baby and the big baby.

satoru continues to rock her body as he hums in a melodic tone. the crying comes to stop and she hiccups.

"yes.. yes.. daddy's here.." he swaddles his baby around his arm in a gentle way, afraid to hurt her in any way.

you get up and your feet automatically makes its way to your little family. you hug your husband by the waist, putting your chin on his shoulder to see your daughter eyeing his father. blue eyes to blue eyes.

you were not glad by the genes of this man covering your daughter whole. from head to toe. she's the carbon copy of her dad but on the other side, you were happy that the only man you love is practically the twin of your daughter.

this thought makes another thought on your mind in which you giggle.

satoru breaks his eye contact with his baby and turns his head to you. "hm? what is it? and shouldn't you be sleeping?"

you continue to giggle and put your forehead on his shoulder, an attempt to muffle your giggles but satoru's plump lips makes out a smile.

"what is it? what's funny?" he asks again. he's curious why you're giggling a little too much.

you sigh and turns your head to meet his stunning blue eyes that was passed down on your daughter.

you look at your daughter first who's already eyeing you, too. great. two pairs of beautiful eyes watching you.

"there's this saying.." you start and your attention goes back to satoru.

he hums, signaling you to continue.

"this saying says that whoever was the carbon copy of the kid was the one who enjoyed a little too much during the making.." you burst out of laughing.

as you make your point, satoru chuckles at that saying, slightly agreeing. "oh?" he raises an eyebrow and grins.

"oh.. is that so?" he wiggles his eyebrows this time.

"mhm.." you hum. "so.. you enjoyed it a lot, huh, satoru?" you tease him.

he laughs quietly. "uh-huh, you caught me, babe." he leans to you, pecking your lips shortly. "i enjoyed it a lot and i will enjoy it more in the future." he whispers on your lips as teases you back.

it's now your turn to frown. "no way." you roll your eyes to dismiss his earlier thought.

he grins even more and turns his attention back to the baby who's been quiet. "but she needs siblings soon enough to have a playmate. isn't that right, baby?" babying the words in the last sentence.

"c'mon. you clearly enjoyed the making, too. even though just a little of your genes were taken out for our baby." he laughs and your daughter giggles, it's as if she's teaming up with him to tease you.

"oh my.. what a little rebellion we have right now." you chuckle at your daughter's early stages of being a mini satoru.

"you should team up with mommy when you grow up." you boop her nose which made her giggle more, making you and satoru smile at your child that has you and satoru's best qualities.

giggles and laughs filled the room at three am in the morning, too early for some playful interaction with your little family.

"no, right? baby girl should team up with daddy and that's why, mommy.." he turns to you again. "we should make another one for you to have a teammate soon enough." he laughs, louder this time.

"no–"

"but this time, i will make sure you'll enjoy more than me so that the second one will be your own very carbon copy." he grins and you slap his back.

what a rough future you'll be expecting.

#rie.writes #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #girl dad gojo

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yawnderu · 7 months

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cr: @ave661

Simon wasn't a stupid man. He always knew better, knew to look between the lines even when you tried your best to be deceiving. Even then, the pure rejection you showed to your newborn baby was something not even the best actress could hide. Refusing to hold her after she was born and fully shutting down on Simon, screaming at him whenever he tried to offer any sort of help and support, only getting worse if he ever tried to approach you while holding the baby.

Post-partum depression is no joke, Simon realized after doing his own research, only then realizing just how bad it can get after accidentally stumbling on article upon article of mothers getting to the point of harming their own child. You weren't like that— Simon liked to convince himself despite the growing pit of dread in his stomach, anxiety seeping out of every pore of his body when even months later you refused to hold or interact with the baby.

It all came crashing down after he came back from deployment, the nanny holding his daughter while soothing her with calm words, doing her best to console the crying infant despite the tears falling down her cheeks when she confessed to him that you're gone.

Gone without a trace, at first. Simon wasted no time using his connections to know where you were. Laswell was the most helpful, giving him all the details of the help center you were in, yet even then, Simon didn't reach out first in fear of messing up your progress, not wanting to add more stress to your situation when you were trying to get better.

Four years. For four years, Simon's life was divided in deployments and taking care of his daughter at home, never once thinking about moving on, always asking Laswell for updates— updates she was glad to give him using her own connections, wanting to give Simon some peace of mind even if it went against the rules.

“It's okay.” Simon reassured his daughter, his long sleeves wet with cola that she spilled from her little cup. His home was the complete opposite of the absolute hell he grew up in, not allowing himself to scream, hit, or take out his frustration on the little carbon copy of himself sitting on the couch.

“'M sorry, daddy.” Her sweet voice made the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head, taking off his sweater and putting it away, wasting no time on grabbing a towel to clean up the now sticky mess of coke on the table.

“It's okay, love. Jus' don't tip it, 's gonna spill.” She gave him a small salute in understanding, a cheeky grin on her lips when she saw him holding in his laughter, knowing fully well she's copying him— as usual.

The doorbell ringing got Simon's full attention, giving his daughter one last look before he went to answer. His eyes widened slightly the moment he saw your shorter figure waiting for him, purposely making yourself smaller like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, a small folder held in your hands. You're both quiet for what seems like forever, the only sounds coming from your daughter in the living room, the TV displaying a kid's show Simon put on.

“I'm so so—” You don't even have the chance to finish your sentence before you're being pulled into a tight hug, Simon's burly arms wrapping around your body, every single second spent missing you, secretly hoping you'd come back one day crashes down on him the moment he feels your arms wrap around his waist, holding him as tight as possible, as if he'd disappear if you don't hold onto him for dear life.

“I got better.” You whisper into his ear, rubbing his back soothingly when he doesn't let go of you. Not yet— not when the love of his life is finally back after years. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder before his face goes back to burying in the crook of your neck, taking in the familiar scent.

It takes minutes for Simon to finally let go, hesitation clear in his actions as he looked down at you, keeping one hand on your waist in silent fear of you seeping through his fingers. The folder in your hand gets his attention, giving you a questioning look before you offer it to him, managing to give him a small smile of reassurance despite all the anxiety and fear.

“My psychotherapist wrote it. It's... just a paper that shows the progress I've made from her perspective.” You stand awkwardly as he reads the document, taking in every single word written by the woman who has been helping your for four long years. You can hear your daughter giggling at the TV show, only making the anxiety in your stomach grow more by the second.

To your surprise, Simon steps out of the way to allow you into the home he created, his safe haven. Nothing changed from the last time you were here, other than toys scattered all over the place, likely from Simon being too busy bonding with his daughter to even clean.

You can see the little girl sitting on the couch as you walk closer, her brown eyes fully focused on the screen until she hears something from behind her. She's so much bigger now, looking like a tiny carbon copy of Simon, down to the little skull-patterned pajamas she was wearing.

She turns around after seeing you from the corner of her eye, her little face lighting up into a toothy grin as she jumps from the couch, sprinting towards you as fast as her little legs allow her to.

“Mommy!” You crouch down to her height out of pure instinct, almost being knocked off balance when she crashes into you, her tiny arms wrapping around your neck. The fact that Simon never stopped talking about you to her and kept your pictures warms your heart, being as delicate as possible as you hug her back.

“Y'look so pretty.” She has Simon's accent, making you let out a small laugh before looking down at her, cupping her cheek just to examine her features better.

“Thank you, sweet girl.” You're glad for the way she cuddles up to you again, not bothering to hide the tears falling down your cheeks at the sheer love displayed by the same girl you left four years ago. Your gaze drifts up to Simon, whose eyes are glossier than usual despite the fact that he's not shedding a tear. He gives you a small nod in acknowledgement, not daring to look away from the heartwarming scene in front of him.

“Daddy talks a lot about you.” She whispers into your ear, covering her mouth as if she's telling you the biggest secret ever. You giggle at the little gossiper, your warm hand running up and down the length of her hair.

“He does?” You whisper back, giving Simon a cheeky look at the admission, one of his thin eyebrows raising when he sees your daughter nod her head vigorously, giggling as she looks at Simon.

“Well, I'm sure he talks a lot about you too.” The pure forgiveness that comes from both of them drowns the guilt, if only for a short while.

“You're such a pretty princess.” Your arms wrap around her again, rocking her softly from side to side, allowing yourself to take in their love. It doesn't take long for Simon's resolve to falter, dropping to his knees and wrapping his burly arms around his girls protectively, planting a little kiss on your forehead.

Despite everything, there's no one else he'd rather spend the rest of his life with.

Dad!Ghost Masterlist

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chrisevansonly · 9 months

Text

𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: there is a new little norris in town, and lando is absolutely smitten

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of childbirth, fluffy dad lando!

𝐚/𝐧: once again i’m sorry for taking so long and for this being shitty and small, i hope you enjoy regardless lol <3

🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸

The house was quiet, the only sound that could be heard was suits playing softy on the tv, Lando had run out to grab a few things for dinner, of course picking up some home cooked meals for the two of you to enjoy over the next few weeks.

Sleeping soundly on your chest was 3 day old baby Poppy Norris, all 6 pounds of her, swaddled up in a quadrant blanket, a gift from Ria a few weeks ago, more of a gag of course but the blanket itself was so fuzzy: perfect for the newborn baby girl.

Your hands held her gently to your chest as you were propped up in the corner of the couch, last night Lando had done the night shift with Poppy which had allowed you to get an entire nights sleep, something you were so grateful for.

The birth experience for you had been pretty straight forward, but it had left you sore and exhausted, Lando doing his absolute best to help in any way he could, no matter what.

After a little while, the front door closed softly, your husband peaking into the living room, a smile on his face as he saw the two of you cuddled up together

“Hi my angels”

“Hi my love, how was your outing?” you responded softly, sending him a smile back

“It was good, mum and dad say hi, they’re gonna stop by tomorrow if that’s alright?”

You nodded, looking down when Poppy made a noise

“Oh did you hear your daddy’s voice? You wanna take her baby, i’ll put the food away?”

Lando’s eyes lit up, he was so enamoured with his little angel, the second he laid eyes on her he knew he would do anything and everything to keep her happy and protected as long as he’d be around.

She was his everything.

He was quick to come over, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips before gently lifting the little baby from your chest, cradling her head gently before settling her into his arms, grabbing the blanket from you to cover her when you got up.

“My pretty pretty girl..” He said softly, kissing her cheeks gently

“Aww so happy to be in daddy’s arms…” you cooed, watching as her eyes blinked up at Lando

She was his carbon copy, from his eyes to his nose, the two of them were twins and you knew she’d inherit his beautiful curls too.

“Will she need to be fed soon?”

After kissing her cheek softly you placed a hand on his back, rubbing up and down gently

“She might, I’ve made a bottle for her it’s in the fridge”

It made feedings easier when you’d decided to breastfeed and bottle feed, Lando loving having his skin on skin time with her when she ate, her fingers would grasp onto his hand tightly, eyes always watching his.

“Perfect, you know you could just leave the food and I’ll do it after?”

Quick to shake your head you kissed him gently

“I don’t mind my love, I feel nice and rested today, thank you for last night…go enjoy some cuddles”

Lando wouldn’t argue with that, doing exactly as he was told, only this time settling down in the rocking chair by the fireplace. Taking one last peak at the two of them you couldn’t help but take a few photos of them. Lando beginning to hum softly to her.

There was no better feeling than this right now, having your perfect little family and your beautiful home, life couldn’t get any better…

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scarlethexelove · 7 months

Note

I’d love to see a Wanda x Reader fic where Wanda is practicing a new duplication spell, and she asks reader to help spot any differences between her and her new “clone”. The game turns flirty and then cue a Wanda/Reader/Wanda threeway :)

Seeing Double

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3569

Warnings: Smut, Spell gone wrong (Or oh so right), Strap-on (R receiving), Oral on Strap-on (Wanda receiving), light bondage (Only a split second), Enchanted Straps, Cum filled Straps, Dom!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Two Wanda's, Anal, Double Penetration, Plugs, Anal fingering, Mommy Kink, Mistress Kink, Slight selfcest (Just making out), Squirting, A bit of Cock warming

A/n: I was so excited to write this. Hopefully it doesn't get too confusing with the double Wanda's. I tried my best to tell who was who when doing anything. Thank you for the request and I really hope you like it.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

“Wands?” You call out as you open the door to the study. Wanda likes to use it to practice her magic. You would normally never disturb her while doing so, but she has been in there awhile and you just wanted to make sure she was ok and to bring her something to eat and drink. She warns you that it is dangerous and she would never want to hurt you. So you normally stay away like she said but your nerves got the best of you so you made your way inside.

The tray clatters to the ground. The cup of tea shattering on impact. Your stunned, mouth hanging agape. There in front of you is your girlfriend and also your girlfriend. You rub your eyes thinking something is wrong with you but when you blink there are still two Wanda’s standing in front of you. “I- What? Why are there two of you?” You stammer out.

Both Wanda’s stare at you in a bit of shock. They never expect you to come in here and to see this. It’s like watching a mirror as both of them gain their composure at the same exact time. Their expressions are the same as they soften, seeing you and the fact that you had dropped what seems to be food and water for them, albeit there is only supposed to be one of them.

“Detka a spell didn’t go quite as planned.” One of them speaks. “I didn’t mean to copy myself; it was an unexpected result of a spell.” The other one finishes. Which causes a different confusion now. “Which one of you is the real Wanda?” You question looking between them. They share a look that you don’t quite understand until the first one speaks. “Well we both are real Milaya. But since you're here now why don’t you try and figure out which one of us cast the spell.” The second one purrs in your ear with the last part. Both of them circling you like prey. You gulp both women making you squirm with their intense gaze. It doesn’t take much for your girlfriend to make you squirm like this but now that there are two of them it’s even easier. You nod your head at their words when you grow confident enough to look up into their eyes.

The first thing you try doing is asking questions to both of them, but both of them answer all the questions correctly. You're getting frustrated with asking questions to the women. You feel as if you're a bad girlfriend for not being able to tell but the one is pretty much a carbon copy of your girlfriend. So you moved to a different tactic but you’re not so sure if it was the worst idea or the best idea you have ever had in your life. Both women are standing in front of you naked. You wanted to see if there were any differences such as marks or scars but both of them were the same. But now your mind is wondering.

You let out a noise of frustration and upset, almost sounding like a whine as you stand behind one of them. You haven’t noticed the swirl of red in their eyes as they have followed you. You're taken by surprise when the Wanda in front of you whirls around and grabs your waist tightly. You let out a gasp looking up at her. “Mommy.” You whimper. There is a proud smirk on her face. “Good girl.” She purrs, you can feel a gush of arousal at the praise. “But that pretty little head of yours has been very loud and very naughty. We have been listening to you for a while now. Do you want to be our pretty little slut? For Mommy and her duplicate to use you.” Her eyes darken as your eyes grow with surprise and need. You let out a whimper as you nod.

Another body presses against you from behind. You can feel her hardened nipples in your back as her lips meet your neck sucking harsh red and purple marks on your skin. “You're such a dirty girl. Wanting to be used by us.” The second one mumbles nipping at your skin. “Fuck Wanda you should have made two of us a long time ago if it was going to turn her on this much.” She lets out a hum continuing to attack your neck leaving marks behind. Another whine escaping your lips as your head drops back onto her shoulder giving her more access.

But as quickly as they started they both pulled away from you. “Whyyyy?” You whine, your mind already feeling fuzzy and needy for both the women from their touches. “Patience detka. I want you to go and sit on the couch.” Your Wanda demands. You obediently and quickly head over to the couch sitting down. “How about to keep things simple you can call me Mistress.” The other Wanda states. You nod. “Yes Mistress.” They both smile at how obedient you’re being. “Such a good girl we have. So pretty and obedient.” The second Wanda says. With a wave of her hand you feel the cold air on your skin. Your nipples are pebbling at the cool air now surrounding your body.

“Mommy? Mistress?” You want them so badly to touch you already. “Patience. Do you want a punishment?” Your Wanda speaks. “No Mommy.” You shake your head and look down. You don’t hear anything for a second so you look back up and that is when you see it. The other Wanda gripping your Wanda’s hips kissing her harshly. The two are making out holding onto one another which is turning you on even more. Wanting nothing more than to be touched by them but you don’t want a punishment so you swallow the whimper threatening to escape. Your body squirms as your thighs become coated in your arousal. You're rubbing your legs together in any hopes of relief. But that is ripped away from you quickly. Red tendrils wrap around your ankles forcing them apart. Biting your tongue not to make a noise. You catch both women's eyes glancing over at you as they continue their actions.

You're fighting everything inside of you that tells you to plead and beg for them to touch you. Your squirm in your seat as your arousal begins to soak the cushion under you. A small whimper that you weren’t able to hold back escapes your lips. Both women pull away and their eyes land on you. You quickly look down not wanting to meet their gaze. “I-I’m sorry.” You stutter out.

A finger hooks under your chin. You hadn’t even noticed that they had crossed the room joining you both standing looking down upon you. Gently she pulls you to look up at her. The green in her eyes is barely visible as the blacks of her eyes overtake them with desire. “Tell Mommy what you want detka.” Her voice low, sending another wave of arousal. You try so desperately to close your legs forgetting the binds keeping them apart. “Want Mommy and Mistress to touch me.” Your voice barely above a whisper as both women chuckle. “I am touching you Milaya” You let out a whine before a rush of words. “Please Mommy want you to fuck me. Want you and Mistress to fuck me till I can’t walk. Use me however you please. Just please fuck me.”

Your Wanda is leaning down, lips hovering just out of reach. “I love it when you beg.” Her lips crash into yours, as your hands move to her waist gripping onto her. She asserts her dominance quickly as you open your mouth to let her in. Her tongue is searching for yours. You can feel Wanda’s need in the hungry way that she is kissing you. Still gripping your chin, keeping you exactly how she wants you.

You're so caught up in the kiss you don’t even notice the magic swirling around until you feel a weight on your thigh and one that has slapped against your arm. You pull back quickly panting as you look down slightly. There around your Wanda’s hips is a red large strap with ample girth. A gasp leaving your lips at the sheer size of it. You quickly look beside you and see the other Wanda sitting there. You hadn’t noticed her even sitting at all. She is adorning an identical strap to your Wanda.

In your shocked state the other Wanda’s hand snakes between your thighs swiping through your wet folds. “Fuck you’re so wet Kotenok.” She groans. “M-Mistress.” You whimper. Your Wanda sits down next to you and turns your face back to her and attacks your lips. The other Wanda plunges two of her fingers into your heat. Your moaning in your Wanda’s mouth as the other fucks her fingers into you. Your Wanda’s hands moving to your breast pinching and twisting your hardened peaks. Swallowing all the noises that escape your pretty little mouth.

It doesn’t take long to have you on edge. Your walls clenching desperately around the other Wanda’s fingers, your hands gripping anywhere on your Wanda that you can, digging your nails in harshly to her skin. It all stops on a dime. Both women pull away from you causing you to let out another whine in frustration. Your wall quivering asking for their release.

“Hands and knees Kotenok.” The other Wanda says. They both move to give you room as you scramble to get on your hands and knees. Your Wanda is positioned in front of you sitting up on her knees, the strap mer inches from your lips. The other Wanda is behind you and you can already feel her shuffling closer to you. She swipes the tip through your folds causing you both to moan. As your mouth opens to moan you Wanda shoving her cock into your throat causing her to let out a moan. You know now that both straps are enchanted and can feel everything. You can’t help but let out a moan at that which causes your Wanda to moan again. Feeling the vibrations from your throat on her cock.

“Mommy is going to use your throat while Mistress takes you from behind. You like that little whore?” You do your best to nod with her strap bobbing in and out of your mouth. “Fuck! This pussy is always so good.” The second Wanda says sinking further into you the stretch is slightly painful but oh so delicious. “Maybe Mistress will use this other pretty little hole back here.” Her hands spread your cheeks admiring as you clench. You try to speak but all that can be heard is gurgles as Wanda slowly fucks your mouth. The women don’t need to hear what you say and they don’t even need to read your mind, all they have to do is read your body's reactions. “By the way you're clenching I’m betting you want me to use this tight hole.” A finger presses against your ass and all you can do is whimper and press back.

“If I had known all it would take for me to be able to take that little ass of yours was to have two of me I would have done this a long time ago. I’ve been dying to sink my strap deep in your ass detka.” You look up at your Wanda tears in your eyes as she smiles down at you. But you’re caught off guard when she thrusts hard into your throat causing you to gag and for the tears to start spilling down your cheeks. Her hand cups your face as she wipes the tears. “So pretty when you cry for me. Such a good girl taking my strap down your throat.” She punctuates each word with a thrust of her hips. This sends your body back onto the other Wanda’s cock. Her lubed finger slipped into your ass, you don’t even remember her getting any lube but then you realize that she has magic just the same. Already feeling so full with just one finger you don’t know how you will take any more.

The women start on a brutal pace of fucking your throat and pussy. As the other Wanda fucks into your pussy it pushes your further onto your Wanda’s strap causing you to gag. As she thrusts forward it sends you back further on the other strap while the other Wanda is still slowly fingering your ass. All that can be hard in the room is the sounds of moans, your gaging, and the wet sounds of your pussy.

The finger in your ass is removed before feeling a cold metal pressing against your tight ring. The coldness makes your jumps slightly but neither of them seem to care as the other Wanda starts to press a metal plug into your ass. You let out a whine as it presses in stretching further than you have ever gone. The women taking pity on you and slowing down to take their time. The other Wanda uses her other hand to gently caress your hips. “Shhh it will feel so good when it’s all in.” She tells you as she slowly works it in. Your Wanda pulls back to give you a chance to breathe as it sinks in. You let out a groan when you feel it pop into place the slight fullness, a new and exciting feeling.

“You like that detka?” Your Wanda asks you. You look up at her and see a gentle smile on her face still having concern for your pleasure. “Y-Yes Mommy.” You give her a small smile back. Once they both know that you are ok they quickly flip the switch back. Your Wanda shoving you so far down on her cock making you gag as your nose pressed against her stomach. The other Wanda pressing on the plug as she jackhammers her hips into you. Your Wanda holds you there as you keep getting presses further into her. Their moans bouncing off the walls of the room. Tears are steadily streaming down your face as they fuck into you roughly.

Right now they are chasing their own pleasure you can feel their hips stuttering as they both fuck into you. The other Wanda has a harsh grip on your hips as she thrust hard and deep each time. Your Wanda has pulled you back slightly so she can fuck your throat enjoying as she watches the tears roll down your cheeks. Their moans turn you on, causing your thoughts to only be of giving them pleasure. Your walls are clenching tightly around the other Wanda signaling that you are all close to your impending orgasms. If it was even possible they seemed to have picked up their pace. The other Wanda hits your spongy wall perfectly with each thrust. You want to tell them you are close but they already know.

“Fuck. Cum with us Kotenok.” The other Wanda moans. “Got a nice surprise for you detka.” You Wanda adds. Her hips jerked as you felt a warm sticky liquid sliding down your throat. You moan around her doing your best to swallow. The other Wanda’s load fills your pussy as your walls clamp hard around her as you cum with her. Your cum coating her cock as she continues to thrust, riding you both through your highs. Your Wanda is still lightly thrusting, filling your throat with her white sticky substance. As all of you come down your Wanda pulls out of your mouth and gently kisses your lips. The other Wanda staying buried inside of you. “So good.” You mumble causing both women to smile. “You didn’t think we were done with you yet, did you detka?” Your Wanda says as the other pulls back and thrust hard into you again.

You have lost count of how many orgasms you have had now. They weren’t kidding about making sure you can’t walk. They have had you in all different positions as they fuck and fill you. Your body is weak and exhausted as you're now hovering over the other Wanda's cock. She is tugging on the plug as she removes it from your ass causing you to whimper. “One more detka. Hmm be a good girl for Mommy and Mistress.” Your Wanda smiles in front of you. Your brain is too fuzzy to fight it so you nod. “Okay Mommy.”

The other Wanda is laying back on the couch as they both help guide you onto her strap. She presses it against your ass as you start to sink down. Your eyes widened, your brain hadn’t put together that this is what they were going to do. “Mommy.” You whimper. “Shhh detka you can take. Be a good girl like we said.” She kisses you to distract you. Your body is being guided down on the strap as it slowly fills your ass up. Wanda swallows your sounds the further you sink down. She pulls away when you're fully seated on the other Wanda’s lap. “Fuck so fucking tight.” The other Wanda moans grinding into your ass which causes you to moan.

Your Wanda moves and positions herself in front of you. The other Wanda leaning you back presenting your leaky abused cunt to your Wanda. She groans as the cum leaks from you but as much as she wants to taste you it will have to wait for another time. She positions her cock at your entrance slamming her cock into you in one swift motion. “Ahhhh fuck Mommy.” You cry out. The other Wanda is kissing and whispering praises in your ear as you adjust to fullness. They both wait for you to adjust before they start. Your Wanda circling your clit lightly to help your body relax more.

Once they have given you time and they notice your hips grinding they start to slowly thrust into you. Your Wanda keeps her fingers on your clit as their paces pick up. They are now both pounding into you hard. With each thrust of their hips and filling you perfectly to the brim has you gasping for air. You're so full and the pleasure is becoming overwhelming as they stretch you to your max. They have both turned to praising you as they continue to fuck and fill you. Giving you gentle kisses all over your body helps to keep you grounded. “S-so full.” You’re able to mumble out. The women picked up their paces if that was even possible.

You're all so sensitive already that it doesn’t take long for your orgasms to build. You're already teetering on the edge as your Wanda starts to pinch your engorged bundle of nerves. All of your moans are bouncing off the walls. Your whole body is shaking with pleasure as more tears run down your face. All that can come out of your mouth is incoherent words along with moans. “Fuck I’m going to cum.” The other Wanda says under you. You nod along as they continue to use your body. “Cum then.” Your Wanda moans above both of you.

White hot sticky liquid fills both your holes as both Wanda’s cum hard. Your walls are able to clench around both of them as you cum harder than you ever have before. Squirting all over your Wanda’s lower abdomen while some gushes down onto the other Wanda below you. You see stars as your eyes roll back into your head. Your body goes rigid before relaxing completely between the women. They slowly fuck you through all of your orgasms before coming to a hault.

You're so thankful that Wanda had bought the larger couch as they both rotate you on your side staying inside of you. You nuzzle into your Wanda’s neck exhaustion taking over your body. They want to give your body a chance to recover a little before pulling out completely so they both stay inside you not wanting to hurt you. They both are whispering praises into your ear gently kissing you and making sure you know that they love you and you did so good in such a vulnerable state that you are in.

“You did so good for us, Milaya.” Your Wanda kisses your head. “Such a good girl” The other Wanda says, kissing your shoulder. Your eyes close as your body starts to get heavy between them. You want to ask questions like how long does the spell last and could it ever happen again? But your too exhausted and your throat is pretty raw from the throat fucking and all the moaning so you opt to ask later. Right now you will enjoy the comfort from the two women. They know they need to clean you up but they can see you need time to recover a bit before they can move you. So they give you some time to rest. Taking some time to admire all the marks that they left behind on your skin.

This isn’t what you expected today to come to when you stepped into that room but you are so glad that you did. Both Wanda’s thinking the same thing as they hold you closer to them. This was the best spell gone wrong that has ever happened and both of them communicating that it will happen again.

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wosofutbolfan · 13 days

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If You Need Me, Call Me

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R Pt.2 in the 'I Would Climb Every Mountain With You' Universe.

Hi Guys, Thank you for all the love on the first part in this series. This is part 2 that I didn't expect to write. I have an inability to not write angst. TW: Claustrophobia. Injury. Events are not based on any real life events. Part two of I Would Climb Every Mountain With You. I would recommend you read that first, for some context. But you can do what you want really ;-)

You and Alexia had been together, happily, for a year. And it was happily. Though. ‘Together’ is probably being quite liberal with the word. And. You suppose. ‘Happily’ is also being quite liberal with the word. You loved Alexia.

And Alexia loved you.

That was clear to both of you. You admitted it early, before she’d even left UK soil after she’d come back with you from your first meeting. She’d rolled her eyes at you and the nerves on your face as you lay in bed together in your pokey Cumbrian flat, and kissed the words from your lips; ‘well duh, of course you do. And I love you.’ which made you laugh and fall into her lips again. But it wasn’t even 12 hours later that you’d had to separate with her season starting again and her need to be in Spain. Her teammates had teased her relentlessly on her return. How she’d U-Hauled with the Jefa de montaña and ran away to the rainey island she so famously disliked just to spend another day together. She'd rolled her eyes and slapped the back of a few heads but it was true. That is what she had done. She’d been overjoyed when she spotted you in the crowd on the first home game of the season. You’d made the surprise trip to Barcelona at the last minute, employing Ingrid to get a ticket in the friends and family section for you. The smile on the Captain's face as she spotted you could be seen from space. You had winked at her and proudly gestured to your brand new Barcelona jersey, Alexias number proudly splayed across your back. As the game ended, with a convincing win for the home team, she’d made a beeline for you in the stands. Jumping over the barrier and embracing you like you hadn’t seen each other for months (oh how used to that feeling you would become), rather than a couple of weeks. “I thought that you preferred rugby?” she had teased you. “Ah, I do, but no one told me how hot the captain in blue and red was” you’d replied, with a wink. Enjoying the blush you’d created on her face, before it was your turn to blush as Alexias eyes darted to your right and greeted, “Mami! Hola!” and embraced a small women in a shirt matching yours who was definitely standing within hearing distance. Just over her shoulder a carbon-copy of Alexia was lurking, a childlike grin on her face and twinkle in her eyes. “Ah, and this is mi hermana Alba!” she had introduced you. ‘Well, nothing like diving in headfirst’ you thought to yourself, as you were introduced to your apparently-new girlfriend's family, as that's what you had just been introduced as, with a squeeze of your hand and a kiss to the side of your head. The Putellas family embraced you with all the enthusiasm in the world. Alba kept you entertained and asked you a million and one questions as you waited for Alexia to be finished with her media and captain duties. Before you knew it you were at an impromptu meet-the-new-english-girlfriend party at the Putellas residence, sharing food with seemingly everyone who had ever been related to Alexia as well as their next door neighbours. Sharing wine, food, and lots of baby Alexia pictures. So yes. You had both moved fast. Maybe it was the speed which you were going that would soon become your downfall. You were moving a million miles an hour and the warning signs were a blur that you couldn’t quite make out. Of those first 6 months, you were on an exhibition for 4. You had travelled to Patagonia to climb some of the last unclaimed peaks on the planet with the National Geographic Society. They were unreachable by road or even yak. You had to sail to the bottom of South America and then move your way up on foot. It was arduous, it was treacherous, but you found satisfaction and joy in the difficulty.

You become the first person and only woman to ever summit Orjos del Salado and, as you snapped a picture at the top, all you thought was how excited you were to share your achievement with Alexia. As you’d called her a week later from a dive-bar in a shanty town in central Argentina you could hear the pride and relief in her voice, even through the terrible connection. It was the first time you had been able to contact her in a month.

But you’d gone straight from there to leading some American businessmen through the Amazon on a 3 week river and hiking exploration. It paid handsomely, you’d explained to the disappointed blonde, you couldn’t turn it down.

You returned to Barcelona in time to spend a week together before Alexia left for a two week international camp. Which was then followed by a week long trip for her to Norway, as part of their group stage champions league campaign.

You’d joined her there, soaking as much time together as possible between her matches and training sessions. Maybe it was then that the cracks had begun to show. As you had woken early to pick her up from her hotel to go for an early morning walk and grab some coffee before her media duties. You had been walking hand in hand in the early morning sunshine. You had been half-way through a story from the day before, where you and Ingrid's mum had gone together to a lake outside of Oslo, when you felt her drop your hand suddenly and took a half step away from you. “Huh?” you looked at her and a look you hadn’t seen before took over her features, “What’s going on Ale?”. “Trust me” was all she’d replied, and then it had become apparent her problem as a swarm of fans suddenly engulfed her, asking for selfies and autographs, which she gave out, graciously. She skillfully extracted herself from the situation before you both continued on your way, but now, you noticed, you were at least a foot further apart and a weird atmosphere had taken over you both. It had been when you were both safely in the cafe that you’d addressed it, “are you ashamed of me?” you asked, unable to mask the hurt in your voice. Hands safely wrapped around your Tea. “No!” she’d replied, aghast, as she pulled your hands from your mug into her own. “mírame cariño” you did, and saw the heartbreaking look in her eyes. “I would never be ashamed of you. Do not think that for one moment.” she said it with such conviction that you couldn’t help but nod. “I am sorry, but it is easier. For you. The media. They will pry into your life. It’s happened before with… partners and… I don’t want that for you. For your family. I love you.” “I won’t hide Ale.” you replied. Firmly. You were a free spirit. It was not in your nature to hide yourself, any part of yourself, for anything or anyone. The thought of it made you claustrophobic. “I know you won’t.” she huffed out a laugh, “I do not want us to hide. I promise. But, maybe, if we do not make their job easy for them? Can we do that?”. The look of desperation on her face broke your heart. “Bueno Ale. Para ti. Yo también te amo.” You’d gone your separate ways from there, you had explorations to complete, she was busy with the team. She’d managed to visit England for a few days when her UCWL matches lined up, and you started to return to Barcelona, rather than Cumbria, as a home base between trips. And that's how it had gone for some time. Your birthday had passed, you’d spent it together in Barcelona, Ale having stolen your trusty-old boots and had them professionally repaired and re-waxed. As she presented them to you, on her balcony with a cute bow on top, your heart expanded in joy. She got you. She knew you didn’t want new-top of the range boots that she definitely could afford. This actually was harder, she’d had to research the dying-art of cobblers in the area. She had to sneak them out of your duffell bag, she must have distracted you every time you went for them as your go-to walking shoes in the week. With all her money and fame. She understood that wasn’t you. You loved what you had. And she got that. As you had turned the boots in your hands, taking in all of the familiarity in all their glory and feeling the waxy leather beneath your fingers she couldn’t read your face. “I hope you don’t mind” she’d taken them gently from your hands and she pulled back the tongue, which showed a piece of jersey sewn into the backing-fabric. Blue and red, with a white AP11 embroidered into it. “It's from my first champions league shirt. I cut a swatch off, and had them sew it in…” she whispered. The moment had been heavy. “I know we don’t get to spend time together like most couples, but this way, I’ll always be with you.” Your throat had burned with the effort to keep your tears at bay, you were unsuccessful when you felt her warm hand cup your face and wipe a tear away,

“I’m sorry, It’s probably way too intrusive and I shouldn’t have taken your stuff, I can ta…” You’d silenced her with a kiss. Intense and hungry. “This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever had. I love you Ale. I love you so much.” “Good.”... you both take a moment to look into each other's eyes, then you feel a movement as she reaches into her pocket and presents proudly what she’s pulled out, eyes shining with mirth “Then maybe you will consider these laces too, no?” and you burst out laughing whilst you take in the Blaugrana coloured hiking laces. You’ve not got it in you to not agree. But love sometimes isn’t enough. Time passed. You continued your work and she continued hers. Valentines days spent on opposite sides of the globe. You weren’t there when she won the Champions League, instead spending it watching it in a bar in Jordan. She wasn’t there as you returned from reaching an undiscovered island as part of a research crew in the South Pacific, instead being in Munich to film a new Nike ad. When you were together you couldn’t walk the streets of Barcelona hand in hand. You’d kept your promise and she kept hers. You weren’t hidden, but you weren’t showcasing your relationship. When she came to England you had more freedom, the people of Cumbia didn’t know who the Spanish superstar was, they just knew her as your girlfriend. Your fit girlfriend according to the teenage boy who lived next door to your mum. You made it work though, between you. You would send her snaps every time you saw children playing football. Pictures from south pacific islands to the mountain villages of the Himalayas, and every time you would receive the same response; “See, el deporte del mundo, I told you <3” It was a perfect storm. What happened. You’d spent a month in Barcelona, more time that you had been able to spend together in the year you’d been a couple. You’d fallen into a domesticity that you hadn’t experienced before.

Alexia would train, you would have dinner ready for her. She would wake you up with a cup of Tea from her new kettle she's bought especially for you. You would plan routes and give advice to your online contacts about expeditions they had planned. You would sleep wrapped in each other's arms, Alexia would even let you be the big spoon, very occasionally.

It felt perfect. Until one, simple comment.

“Ay, look at you, wifey!” Mapi had exclaimed from her place at the table as you brought in the dinner you had prepared for the group, you had invited her and Ingrid for a couples night, “who would have thought, “La jefa de la montaña. Tamed!” “Shut up Maria.” Ingrid nudged her girlfriend, with a kind smile she turned to you, “This looks delicious! Thank you” As the group tucked in though, you were distracted. Suddenly, the weight of Alexia's hand on your thigh felt heavy. The walls, too constricting. For you, the heat of Barcelona started to become oppressive. Too predictable. You missed England, you missed not knowing what the weather would be hour by hour. The contact blue skies felt like a false--happiness was being forced on you. The ground at your feet, sun dried, felt harsh compared to the muddy grass you had grown up stomping on. Soft, flexible. The routine started to bore you. You missed the weight of your backpack and the freedom of slinging up your hammock. Alexia hadn’t missed the way you had clammed up, the tenseness in your posture, the way your laugh did not reach your eyes for the rest of that evening. For the weeks following she felt like keeping you was like trying to catch smoke. Like trying to hold sand in her bare hands. She could feel you escape through her fingers for the next few weeks.

Which is why she wasn’t surprised when she returned from an away trip to Mallorca to see you on the couch. Hands nervously twisting and unable to meet her eye.

“You’re going again, aren't you?” she asked, as she dropped her bag at the door and settled next to you, taking your hands in hers. You nodded.

“I’m sorry Ale. It's just. It's not me.” you’d explained then, how you had been feeling. And she listened. Even though she knew. Of course she already knew.

“It’s okay, carino.” you’d assured you. You’d look up then, “it is?”

“Si, Mi Vida. I would never ask you to change. And only you would be bored of the life of a professional footballer, and you must be the only English person to ever complain about the weather in Barcelona” she’d lightened the mood with her joke, and rolled her eyes good naturedly.

“Where are you going this time?” she’d continued, and she should have known from your pause that this wasn’t the usual goodbye.

“Everest.”

“Everest.” She’d reperated. Joy in her voice, she knew it was your life’s ambition to climb the world's highest summit. “...and Denali, and Elbrus...” you had continued to name the 7 highest summits on each continent that you would spend the next 18 months climbing, without oxygen, as part of an international exploration. Silence filled the apartment. “I….” “No.” “No?” you asked, shock in your voice. “No, what?” “No, you can’t do that. It's too dangerous.” “But Ale…” “No. No ‘but Ale’. I get it. I have been your partner now for long enough. I understand. But this is too much. No oxygen, so many climbs… there is too much danger. No.” her tone firm. Final. Her Captain's voice. And that had made the walls feel like they were closing in for you. And you responded like a wild animal, backed into a corner, defensive. “I wasn’t asking.” She let out a frustrated groan, hands covering her face. “Carino, please no. Listen to me. Being with you…” a huff again… “it is hard.” “Oh well, I am sorry Alexia, if being with me is such a chore…” you started. “No, stop, you are not letting me speak…” but you had started at that point. “You are not the one who is hidden away, you aren’t one who has had to move countries, to miss her family, your life hasn’t changed! You’ve given up nothing for this relationship.” you hiss out at her, hardly recognising your own voice. You're speaking just to hurt her. To make this easier for both of you. And that final sentence, seems to be what breaks the usually cool and calm exterior of your girlfriend and she stands and points her finger at you. “Nothing! ¡nada! ¿Cómo te atreves?” she spits out at you, the anger in her tone surprises you, you have never heard her speak like this, “I have sat here and waited. For months I have waited. For anything from you. Being with you is not like a long-distance relationship. You go, for months at a time, you go. And you expect me to sit here and wait. And I do. You do not text, you do not call. I understand that you cannot but do not say I have made no sacrifice for this relationship. When you got lost in the Gobi desert for weeks, what do you think I was doing? Sitting here! Jumping out of my skin every time the phone rang in case it was your Mami telling me you had been found dead. I did not play in The Copa De La Reinga final because I was so sick with worry. He hecho sacrificio. mi equipo, mi familia ha hecho sacrificio and I will not let you disrespect me or them and let you say otherwise.”

Alexia doesn’t lose any of her anger in her tirade. And the silence that settles over the apartment is heavy. She seems to have surprised herself, as her eyes go wide and she opens her mouth again… but you interrupt her. “No Ale. Do not apologise.” you hold your hand up. “I didn’t think. I'm sorry. You are right. I am not good for you.” This is why you didn’t do relationships. You were a bad partner. You needed to be free, outside, exploring. You lived for adventure. It wasn’t fair.

“No! No Carino, that is not what I said!” tears are in her eyes now, and you knew this would be hard, but you didn’t know it would be this hard. “I love you...” “I love you too,” she quickly replies. Neither of you had even been shy with your affirmations to each other. “I love you so much Ale. But I have to go and do this. I have too. It is who I am. It is my dream. It.. It is my world cup.” She huffs out a laugh as she gently nudges herself into your arms, your attempt at speaking in a way she would understand humouring her. “I know.” she replies, sadly, “but I cannot go through that for 18 months mi amor. I cannot.” “And I won’t ask you to, love.” You move a strand of hair from her face as you kiss her lips, gently, there's a finality in it, you open your mouth again but she cuts in. “I can’t say anything that will stop you, can i?” she asks, as you shake your head, sadly. “When do you leave?” You cringe as you confirm her worst thoughts, “tomorrow.” She takes a deep breath and presses her face into your neck. “Can we do one thing before you go?” she asks you.

Anything. You would give this woman in your arms anything she asked for at that moment. Apart from stay. And that's how you found yourself swinging on your old lightweight hammock.

Strung up securely in the Putellas back yard. As you lay on your (ex?) girlfriend's chest, as you both looked up at the stars. You chatted into the night, you laughed and you cried. You fumbled under the blankets like horny teenagers. She asked you to promise to contact when you could. And you asked her to not worry, to concentrate on the Olympics and move on from you. You kept it to yourself that there was no way you were moving on from her. You didn't know she was keeping the same thing to herself as she promised you she would try.

It was the weirdest break up anyone had ever had.

And, 17 months later, as you lay, trapped, entombed in your own coffin of ice, you were sure that you could still feel the sway of that hammock, feel the heat of that Barcelona evening and hear the cicadas chirping. As the ice pressed all around you, all you could dream of was being back in that back yard in Barcelona, in the arms of Alexia.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Denali. Done. Vinson. Done.

Aconcagua, Kilimanjaro, Elbrus, Puncak Jaya . Done, Done, Done and Done. You’d faced the heat of Africa, the remoteness of Antarctica, the desolation of Russia. And here you were, finally, on your final summit. Everest. It was somewhat of a dichotomy between the mountaineering community. Everest had become a commercial hub. Have-a-go mountaineers paying big bucks to get a free ride to the highest mountain in the world. But to you, it had always been sacred. You had imagined it, as you climbed hills in the English lakes as a teenager, of one day scaling the iconic mountain. So, why? As you stood on the highest point of earth. After 3 months of acclimatisation. Were you thinking of your ex-girlfriend? Who were you kidding? You knew why.

Alexia hadn’t been far from your thoughts on any of your summits. Her face popping into your mind at each peak. As you pocketed some rock as had become your tradition you would imagine her face as your hand touched the earth. The same earth she was on, thousands of miles away, probably in lush, manicured grass, kicking a ball around and entertaining thousands. Your group had become your family, and you had grown as close as one. Arguing when tensions got high but snuggling together to share warmth when in survival mode. Joking in bars across the globe and playing so many games of gin rummy that you sure a record had been broken. They teased you relentlessly for the old boots with silly laces you wore on the lower reaches of each summit, before you reached heights that you all had to wear mountaineering boots. Alexia, unknowingly, with you every step of the way. They had even made a game in each country you entered, to help you pick the rudest or funniest postcard to send to Barcelona, snippets of your time you sent to Alexia, keeping the promise you made over a year ago. You could have rang, you know you could. But you didn’t know if you heard her voice you wouldn’t high-tail it to Barcelona. So you sent postcards. It felt old-fashioned. It felt romantic. And you think that really, you liked that she couldn’t reply. It felt anonymous. You took off your snow goggles as you stood at the peak. You had 3 minutes on the highest point on earth without your goggles before you would become snow blind. The sun being about 60% stronger at this elevation. You could see the curvature of the earth. It reminded you of the curvature of Alexia's shoulders as you held her from behind.

You took in a deep breath of thin air.

Your lung capacity feels like it has doubled since you left Europe.

You have done it. Without oxygen. 7 summits. Your life goal. Complete.

And now. You wanted to go home.

“Congratulations English Sherpa! You have done it!” Arjan, clamps a heavily gloved hand on your shoulder, his wide smile visible even beneath his snood. Ice hanging from his moustache. He had to shout for you to hear him over the wind. He was a sherpa, he had travelled all around the world with you being one of the experts in the group, he’d affectionately nicknamed you the English Sherpa after he had seen your climbing prowess on your first summit. “We have done nothing yet, my friend. You know you’ve only climbed Everest once you get back down safely” you reply, glee in your voice, fixing your goggles back to your face. “Spoken like a true Sherpa.” he replied, and you both embraced at the top of the world. You didn’t hang around for long. Your entire expedition made it to the top of your final summit and you quickly pictured the moment before making your way down. The biggest risk on Everest is getting stuck in a crowd. It is not as technically difficult as other summits you have done. But without oxygen, a minute can feel like an hour on the highest point on earth. You heard once, it is easier to be saved from the surface of the moon than it is to be saved from the surface of Everest. Luck, however, seemed to be on your side. You had made good progress up, and were making even better progress down. With each step you became more and more gleeful, past 8,000 metres you started to finally feel safer. 7,000 metres, you let the excitement of your achievement settle into your bones. 6,000 metres you let your mind wander to finally going home but why was home seeming more like a sundrenched balcony in Barcelona rather than a green field of England? 5,000 metres, you promised yourself that you would use the satellite phone in your pocket to ring Alexia once you got back to base camp. Tell her you’d done it. Maybe even beg her forgiveness. You were alone on the mountain, ahead of most of your group and low enough now to be unattached to any guidelines, it was a usual affair. Until it wasn’t.

You felt the ground rumble beneath you. It was barely noticeable. It felt more like the feeling you get when you’re lying in bed and a large truck drives past your house.

But it was enough to instil fear in you as you looked up and saw a wall of moving snow hurtling towards you. It was a slab avalanche, probably caused by the movement of the climbers above, and paired with the lateness of the day, the snow that had fallen and compacted overnight had melted enough to loosen into a wall of ice that was directed your way.

You had about 30 seconds.

You knew to go sideways, do not outrun an avalanche. It's like trying to outrun a cheetah. But this wall of ice looked wide, you ran to your side, moving slowly in the deep snow. As you ran you pulled your goggles back onto your face.

You could feel the earth beneath you falling away as the snow you trod on was unearthed by the vibrations of the snow above.

You ran. You ran for your life, but you knew this wasn’t good. Your training kicked in.

You saw a boulder in front of you and you threw yourself behind it, you created a ball with your body, making sure that you created a hole around your face you would be able to use to breathe. You pulled your ice pole from your back and stuck it into the ground next to you, that would help when you were covered by snow and you didn't know which way was up. Which way you would need to dig. You put one hand in your pocket and pulled the satellite phone in front of your face.

A thunderous rumble.

And then.

Silence. Darkness. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexia didn’t have her phone on at half time. She never paid it any attention - playing or not she was too focussed on the game.

Today, though, she didn’t know why. But she did.

She felt her phone vibrate in the bag at her feet.

And something compelled her to actually make the effort to dig into her bag and pull it out.

The number looked weird. Not a Spanish number, or an English one, she had gotten used to all the +44’s that had rang her over the year spent with you.

She stepped out of the unfamiliar changing room into the impressive corridors of Old Trafford. A post-season friendly. Barcelona Vs Manchester United. The game didn’t mean anything but it was always exciting to check another famous stadium off the list. A sold out crowd and an evening game. Can’t get much better.

She found a disused office room and managed to press accept on the call.

“Hola?”

At first she thought she’d missed it. Nothing on the line responded to her, as she pulled the phone away to check she saw the call had connected… ‘Scammers’ she cursed in her mind, moving to hang up. But just before she did…

“Hola, Ale.” She couldn’t believe it. Your voice. She dropped her weight onto the table behind her and held a hand to her chest that suddenly felt like it was torn in two. Heart beating faster than any 45 minutes of running could cause.

“¿eres realmente tú?”

“Yes, It’s me Ale.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and even after everything she felt just the same as she did when she stepped out of that minibus nearly 3 years ago and first set eyes on you.

“Are you okay carino? Did you do it?” she asked, breathlessly. “I did it, love.” was the response. In her pride at your accomplishment she missed how you hadn’t addressed her first question.

“Nunca tuve ninguna duda, I am so relieved to hear from you. The line is so quiet, are you still there?”

“Si…” a pause which Alexia attributes to the poor connection, “It must be the signal.” she notices you move on, quickly, “Can… can you just talk to me?”. Alexia smiles despite herself, you used to always ask her to talk you to sleep when your mind was whirring, completing your greatest accomplishment must be in that category and she can imagine you fidgeting in pent up adrenaline.

“I can amor, I have a few minutes. I am in Manchester. We are at half time at Old Trafford.”

“Old Trafford, hey?” she hears you laugh, “Finally, a football ground I’ve heard of.” She's missed your teasing lilt.

“Si, even you. It is raining. Why is it always raining here? I imagine you have better weather even at your camp.” Alexia jokes, innocently. The laugh you let out feels a little… forced? But she lets it go.

“I had lunch with your Mami today. We are only an hour or so away from yours, why did you never tell me we were so close?” Again, that laugh that she loves so much, but it felt more tired that she’d heard it before, more muffled. Though. She supposed, you must be exhausted.

“Because then, my love, you would have made us go and watch football matches and I much preferred to spend our time together in my bed.”

“Ah, Si, I remember, you did.” she responds, blushing and not missing a beat.

“Your Mami is doing well. She is in the stands….” “Tell her I love her, Ale.” you cut in. There's a desperate edge to your voice that sends shivers down Alexia's spine. She stands, “I will. Of course I will. Carino, are you okay?” she realises now, you never answered her first question. “I stood on the top of Everest today, Ale.” you reply. You haven’t answered her question. She opens her mouth to ask it again but you continue, “I stood on the top of Everest and all I could think of was you.” Your words force her to sit again, her spare hand to her mouth, keeping in a muffled sob. “Don’t you think that's insane? That today, Ale. You were in Manchester and someone. On top of the world. The highest point on this Earth. The highest person on this planet. Only about 4 spacemen floating around above me. Had only you in their mind? I think that means you’ve been to the top of the world, Ale. En la cima del mundo conmigo. You were there with me, every step.” You sound drunk, she wouldn’t blame you, thin air for months it wouldn’t take more than half a pint to see you off, the thought of your ramblings makes her smile despite herself, she knows she shouldn’t, but she leans into it. “Everyone here talks like you….” she pauses, “In Manchester. Only me and Ona can understand them. With your flat vowels. It made me think of you more today. Miss you more than normal today. And now you call.” There's a knock on the office door, “Ale, Vamos!” half time has ended. She has never wanted to play football less than right now. “Because we’re soulmates” your voice definitely had a slur to it now, “and I miss you too. I’ll always miss you, my Ale.” you always got soppier when you drank. “You won’t miss me for long, Carino. You will be home soon. I don’t care if you decide that it's England or Spain. Whichever. I will be there. Si?... We will be together soon. We can sort all this out.” “Hopefully, n..to..oo soon.” she struggles to hear you, the connection starting to fail. “Pardon? Amor?” another knock at the door. She feels like she's being pulled in half as she presses the phone closer to her ear. “Amor. I have to go. Well done, Estoy tan orgullosa de ti. Call me when you can.” “I love you, Ale…” “I lo…” beep beep beep. The call drops before she has a chance to respond. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You feel pain all over your body. You had never felt pain like it. It was like every sinew in your body was screaming out in pain. You opened your eyes and immediately closed them again. Blinding white. You heard voices. Alarmed voices.

Shouting voices. “HERE, HERE!!!” You felt yourself being moved. It made the pain worse. You tried to tell them to stop.

Your throat couldn't make a sound. And then all you knew was black.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- More darkness. You felt something covering your face. Your body being stripped. Water. Boiling water. It burned. You were submerged. “No no no no no no…” was all you could try to vocalise. A calming hand in your hair. “It is lukewarm water, we are trying to bring your body temperature up…”

No, no. They were lying. The voice was lying. You thrashed. A pain in your arm. A needle? Darkness took you again. —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “There is no chance, Arjan.” “Bu….” “No. You are an experienced Sherpa. You are letting yourself get lost. There is no chance. She is too far gone. Air evac is the only way. No Nepalese pilot will fly at this altitude. We need to make her comfortable…” —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You felt yourself being moved.

Less painful this time.

You felt wind on your face.

This wasn’t natural wind.

The sound of blades. Air moving unnaturally. Choppily.

Your face is covered again.

The wind gets louder. More mechanical. You feel yourself being lifted up. “You’ve some friends in high places, English Sherpa.” you hear whispered to you, a hand on your forehead. Arjan? Your friend is speaking to you. You feel less alone. You try to open your eyes but the effort feels herculean. And then nothingness. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This time, when you wake up. You stay awake. You’re in an unfamiliar room. It’s obvious it's a hospital room. But you’re alone. You look around and see yourself wired up to all sorts of machines. But that's it. You try to move to sit up but your shoulder screams in protest. You take stock of your body. You feel a bandage wrapped around your head. Your head is banging now you think about it. Your right arm is completely immobile. Your arm wrapped across your chest and hand completely covered by bandages. You try to wiggle your fingers but. Nothing. God. You hope they’re still there. Before you had too long to spiral the door burst open and you were faced with a smiling, familiar face. “Arjan!” you try to exclaim, voice rough from underuse. “She’s awake. My friend!” his sun-soaked face suits his smile. His bushy eyebrows make his eyes almost invisible as he crinkles them in joy. Arjan settles next to you and fills you in on everything you were present for, but missed out on account of being buried alive or completely unconscious. Your choice to hide behind the boulder had been the first thing to save your life. It had protected you from being swept away by the avalanche and was easier to locate. Before you had called Alexia you had contacted base camp. But your GPS had been knocked off so all they knew was that you were alive. And where you told them you had last been. You’d lost consciousness fairley quickly. Brain starved of oxygen in the small air pocket you had created. Hypothermia had set in slowly.

Your hand had been left exposed after using the phone, and you remember wiggling your fingers, seeing them slowly turn black as they succumbed to frostbite. It had taken 3 days to find you. Luckily, you had been the only person caught up in the snow. You remember, now, coming in and out of consciousness. You even recall a bad spell of seeing Alexias face in the boulder your head rested against and talking to it. Maybe you’d keep that you yourself. Bit embarrassing really. Your legs were pinned down by snow. You had used your last piece of strength to thrust your ice pole upwards. You'd chosen the direction based on the way your tears fell. That was the second thing that had saved your life. Arjan had spotted the pole in the ice field. Days after everyone else had given up on ever finding you. You’d been dragged to base camp and they started to treat hypothermia. You were more than halfway to dead. You resembled a corpse. Arjan had told you he'd never seen anyone literally blue. “Pulled it off tho, my friend” he’d tried to joke. “Of course, always” you’d winked back in reply. You'd have no chance of survival whilst still on the mountain. The air was still too thin and your were suffering from hypoxia. Problem was, the air was too thin for an air evacuation and. Well. As you knew. It was easier to be saved from the surface of the moon than it was to be saved from the surface of Everest. The third thing that had saved you. Was Alexia. “You have someone who’s gone to the moon and back for you, my friend.” Once she’d found out you had gone missing she had gone to the UK embassy in London to start a search and rescue campaign. When they hadn’t moved quickly enough she had involved the Spanish government. She’d used her resources and status to launch a media campaign which had pressured both governments. She’d flown to Kathmandu herself and was trying to hire a plane to Lukla when you’d been found. Then her attention turned to locating a pilot crazy enough to fly at such an altitude. Turns out anyone was crazy enough for the right price. And many, many euros later, the highest ever search flight took off from the surface of Everest, with you on board. “She’s a force to be reckoned with, your girl.”

He told you, as he reached to the ground below you, “...and you’ll be happy to hear, I saved your precious boots” he dumped your familiar old tattered boots at the bottom of your bed.

“And some stuff from your tent. But I had to hike it out so I left some of the smellier clothes.” he joked, as you thanked him, he really was a good man. “... Wait… hike it out? How long have I been here?” “You’ve been unconscious for a week my friend. I always told you you were lazy.” You took a moment to take stock. A week. Well. That meant that even if Alexia had been in Kathmandu, she was a million miles away now. The door opens again and you’re too lost in your own thoughts to give any care to the nurse whos been coming in every now and again checking charts whilst you and Arjan chatted. “Ah here she is. La Reina herself!” You turned your head quickly and took in the face that had been the last image in your mind every night, and the first every morning, since the day you had parted. “Ale…” you breathed. Here. She was here. In Kathmandu. In the same room as you.

She looked as beautiful as ever, hair flowing over her shoulders, blonder than the last time you had seen her. She had gained muscle and her features had sharpened. But everything else was the same. Her smell invaded your senses. That smell that mosquitoes loved so much. You got it. Her eyes were sharp, and directed firmly at you. They looked tired. She held a sense of exhaustion. You wanted her to fall into your arms, but she stood at the door, and you couldn't open them to welcome her in. The moment was heavy and Arjan broke the silence and stood… “I’ll leave you both to it. See you around English Sherpa.” and with a squeeze of your foot he was gone. Leaving you both in a heavy silence. “Thank You Ale.” you said, breaking the silence.

After all Arjan told you, you owed her your life. She didn't respond. But her eyes had moved from your face and were now directed at the boots still on your bed. As battered as ever, Blaugrana laces snapped and re-tied in several places, swatch still visible on the tongue. Maybe you thought that your meeting would be a bit more romantic, not as…tense? She stroked one of the boots gently with her finger, seemingly lost in a trance. “Ale…?” “You have a habit of not telling me important things.” Whatever you expected it wasnt that. “Qué?” “That you speak Spanish, how you feel, I don’t know… that your trapped in a fucking avalanche.” you’d seen her angry before, you’d seen that anger directed at you, but this felt worse. It was directed through you. She kept her distance when all you wanted to do was hold her close. “How could you do that? How could you let us speak knowing that you were about to freeze to death and just chat to me, like it was a normal Sunday afternoon?” “I…I didn’t want to worry you…” you croaked out, you felt like a school child who was being told off by the head teacher. And you deserved it, you supposed. “I will always worry about you, por el amor de dios!!” She started to pace around the bottom of your bed, your eyes moving like they were taking in a tennis match watching her wear the ground down. “...and to think I finished that game. I slept that night at your flat. Happy, finally feeling like I almost had you back. Your mami took me home. And then, the next morning, I walked into the kitchen. And there she was, crying at the table. She could hardly tell me what had happened. And then it all fell into place. You’d called me when you thought you were already in your grave, didn’t you?” All you could do was nod, arms desperate to dry the tears tracking down her face. “I’m glad to see you.” you let out. Unsure of what else to say. “You won’t be. I am so, so angry at you.” “I know you are bu…”

“No, you did your speaking on that Mountain. Now you listen” Her tears are dry now and the anger is back in her face. “I have sorted a medical flight. We leave tonight. We’re going back to Barcelona. I don’t care if you want to go back to that rainey island or not. It’s not your choice, it's mine. You almost froze to death, you need the sun. The warm. You will come with me every day to the doctors at the club. They will monitor you. Your family will come to visit. You will go to a therapist. You will take your medication. You will not ignore your medication because you think its better to treat yourself with whatever crushed bug or mashed-up leaves you think is better….” She stops for breath. “That was one time…” you mumbled, referring back to the time you insisted that a crushed cucumber was better than antiseptic cream to treat a bee sting. “Nope. You are still listening.” She stopped you, firmly again, but you felt her eyes softening as she took you in, “... and when we get home and you get better, we will talk. We will decide where we are building our life together, but that is one non-negotiable. It will be together. Okay?” She seems to be finished. And she's moved closer to you, close enough for you to reach out and grab her hand with your good one. You nod, and pull her hand to cup your face. “I just have one question.” you ask, seeking permission to speak. She nods as she strokes your face, tired and burnt from over-exposure. “Are these fingers still attached?” you ask, shaking your injured arm at her, “they’re kind of important for my plans, if you know what I mean” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively. Her laugh makes you think maybe you did die on that mountain, because surely, here, with her, you’re in heaven. “Te amo, idiota” —-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You awoke surrounded by soft sheets and sleep-warm pillows. Your once-injured arm tweaked in pain slightly as you stretched out. You had physio later this afternoon, you thought to yourself, you had better mention it. You rolled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, still covered in blankets, bed hair resembling a yeti. You almost tripped up over your rucksack which was laying in the hall. Where it had been since your return to Barcelona, months ago. You hadn’t been ready to unpack it quite yet. You could hear Alexia on the phone out on the balcony, and you gestured the international, ‘want a drink’ sign to her, which she shook her head at. You shrugged. God, sometimes she was so Spanish. A good Brit would never let a hot kettle go to waste. It had been months of reconnection, Alexia finally letting go of her anger as soon as you entered the flat. She broke down in your arms that first night, simultaneously telling you how angry she was at you and how much she loved you at the same time. How she had never been as scared in her life. You just dealt with it by pressing kisses into her hairline.

She'd made you sit in the sun of the balcony every chance she got. Morning, Noon and Night. Moving you around to chase the rays. Insisting that you needed the warmth and vitamins of the sun to recover. The image of you pale, cold and frozen in the hospital in Nepal seared into her mind. When Mapi and Ingrid visited Mapi teased you, and had taken to calling you Bagheera. She said you resembled her cat, chasing the sun to lounge in at every occasion. She quickly stopped when Alexia slapped the back of her head. You no longer had to hide your relationship. Alexia had blown the doors off that as she went to the media in order to get the resources to save you. The feeling of claustrophobia that had made you flee from Barcelona had gone. You knew what being trapped really felt like now. And how you ever thought the love of your life and a shared life in this sun-drenched city was suffocating. Well. That was a different person to who you were now. Yeah, you would always love the outdoors. But you had an anchor now. Something that made you maybe not scale that next peak, and instead be excited to share a recipe with. Maybe not stay on the trail for an extra week, and instead pick out a good film to settle down to. Your mum was over the moon. She’d been a regular visitor. You thought she’d be upset, when you decided to stay in Spain instead of going back to England but she seemed offended by the idea. “That girl saved your life you stupid woman, of course will stay here with her.” Alexia didn’t accept it so easily. She was worried you would feel trapped again, that she wasn’t compromising. She would rather move with you than lose you. “Ale. Barna is your life.” you had replied, simply, “...and you are mine.” “It is not!” she had refused, aghast at the suggestion until you said, “United will have me, so will City, my agent has checked, I would even go to the Championship and play for Newcastle, I look great in black!” “Ale, you literally have a floor tile tattooed on your back. We’re staying here.” you said, deadpan. And she couldn’t say much to that. So, much to the despair of every football fan in England. She signed a new contract with Barcelona not two weeks ago. Maybe it was how settled you felt this morning, as the kettle boiled. The soreness in your muscles after the night you spent together in bed, which must be why your shoulder was straining now. Maybe you'd keep that away from the physio. Though, maybe he’d be happy to hear that your fingers were definitely fully recovered. Not as happy as Alexia was though, you'd bet. But something about this morning made you brave enough to finally open that rucksack in the hallway. As you zipped it open your fingers caught on a single piece of cardboard. A postcard. You flipped it over as arms encircled your waist and gentle lips kissed your shoulder. “Carino?” she asked, looking at the postcard in your hands. “I never got to give you this.” you whispered, as you held the postcard over your shoulder, she let you go as she turned it in her hands. She let out a barking laugh as she moved towards the fridge where 6 other postcards sat proudly, waiting for their 7th to complete the set. A woman in a bikini, sat on a yak wearing a cowboy hat, the imposing structure of Everest in the background. A speech bubble coming out of her mouth ‘I’ve seen bigger’. Alexia rolled her eyes at you as she stuck it to the fridge with a magnet showing the message you wrote all those months ago.

“Ale, I’m here.

One more summit and I’ll be on my way back to you. For good. How can I say it in your language? ‘It’s coming home’.

fin.

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso community

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harrysfolklore · 8 months

Note

hi bestie,, idk if u take requests buttt have u seen kieran culkin speech after he won his emmy & then him asking his wife for another baby on stage 😁🤭🤭 idk i thought that would a cute h blurb

that kieran speech was SO CUTE i just had to take this request !!! happy one year of grammy winner Harry for those who celebrate! i hope you like this as much as I do

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The night had been one for the books.

Harry became a Grammy winner for the second time within the first 30 minutes of the ceremony, getting the award for Best Pop Vocal Album, and your heart bursted with joy and pride and you watched him collect it.

He also delivered an amazing performance even though he had a stage malfunction that was out of his control, and after a few minutes of pep talk backstage, you convinced him that he should be proud of what he did no matter what.

Nights like tonight made you look back at your journey with Harry, from getting frustrated each year when the Grammys refused to give One Direction a nomination, to consoling him when his debut single Sign of the Times got overlooked and celebrating when they finally ave him his long overdue nomination for Fine Line. And now, being one of the most nominated artists of the night and a winner already.

Harry was not an artist that let awards or numbers define his career at all, but you knew that deep down he appreciated getting a nod and recognition for the hard work he puts into his music.

"What's on your mind, honey?" Harry asked and he noticed that you had been quiet for a few minutes, the show was on a commercial break so you could talk freely.

"Just thinking about how am I getting a picture with Beyoncé before the night ends," you joked, making him laugh along, "I'm also thinking about the bub, do you think she's okay?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at the mention of your daughter. Little baby Styles had been welcomed into the world a year and a half ago, looking like an exact carbon copy of Harry with curls, dimples and charming green eyes.

It's safe to say that she became Harry's entire world from the moment he saw her for the first time.

"I bet she's fast asleep by now after snuggling with mum for hours," you smiled at the thought, "You know she's obsessed with mum."

"She just loves her nana," you almost cooed, "And her Grammy winner daddy, even tho she doesn't have any idea what that means."

"You know," Harry began, and by the look on his face you knew he was up to no good, "She could become obsessed with her bay brother or sister too, if we decided to give her one."

The smirk on Harry's face after his statement was almost devilish, making you look him with wide eyes and a grin on your own.

"Are you asking me for another baby in the middle of the Grammys?" Harry shrugged, the smirk not leaving his face, "You're a menace. But, maybe if you win, I'll think about it."

Before Harry could reply, the lights dimmed signaling that commercial break was over and it was time for more awards, more specifically, the most important award of the night: Album of the Year.

Trevor Noah, the host, talked about the importance and meaning of the award, the fans the production had invited to support the nominees stood beside him in a line.

You could barely focus on what was being said because your eyes were fixed on Harry's hand gripping yours tightly, and you felt like throwing up from nerves if you looked at the stage.

And the Grammy goes to…” Trevor spoke into the mic, making a dramatic pause that felt way too long and made you finally look up no the stage, noticing that he was standing in front of Reina, Harry's fan.

And that was the moment you knew, the Album of the Year was Harry's House.

“It’s you!” both you ans Jeff whisper-yelled in unison, looking at each other with shocked faces and making Harry give you a confused look.

“What do you-” and before he could even finish his sentence his name was being called out and the trumpets from Music for a Sushi Restaurant filled the place.

Harry immediately covered his face in disbelief, shaking his head and taking in in the moment. You couldn't help but stand up and jump in your place, adrenaline and excitement, but mostly pride, running through your veins.

"My love, you won! Harry's House won!" you said into his ear when he finally wrapped his arms around you, pecking the side of yiur head repeatedly before kissing your lips quickly.

"I love you," was all he said before getting rushed into the stage along with his collaborators and friends.

"Shit!" was the first thing that came out of his mouth once he had his Grammy in hand, making everyone laugh, “I mean,shit! I’ve been so, so inspired by every artist in this category with me. At a lot of different times in my life I listen to everyone in this category when I’m alone,” he took a breath,"I think on nights like tonight, it’s obviously so important for us to remember that there is no such thing as best in music. I don’t think any of us sit in the studio thinking, making decisions based on what is gonna get us one of these.”

You stood with your hands clutched to your chest, your eyes filled with happy tears and nothing but love and admiration for him.

"I'd like to thank my mom and my sister for being my biggest supporters and giving me a great childhood, I would be nowhere without you," he paused to look directly at you from the stage, his eyes immediately watering again, "And of course my beautiful wife, YN. Thank you for sharing your beautiful life with me and giving me an amazing daughter who is the reason I do what I do everyday,"

You were unaware of the camera focusing on your and catching the moment you mouthed an 'I love you' to him from your place.

"I love you both so much, you mean the world to me. And YN," he paused, the devilish look from earlier making his way to his face again, along with a teasing raised eyebrow that told you that he was about to do something major, "I want another one."

The entire arena erupted into laughs and cheers, Jeff clapped and whistled from beside you and you couldn't help but cover your face in shock and embarrassment, astonished by Harry's anctics.

"You said, maybe if I won, and I did!" the crowd laughed even more, "I love you, so much. Thank you for this, I'll never forget it."

Harry got off the stage and you met him backstage to congratulate him properly, after a final performance the night came to an end and everyone headed outside the arena to celebrate.

"Do you feel like partying tonight? The label is throwing a celebration but if you feel tired we can skip it," Harry said as you both sat on the back of his Range Rover.

"Honestly, I just want to go home, kiss our baby goodnight and celebrate with my Grammy winner husband in private," you smiled at him teasingly, "Maybe get started on that second baby making."

The smile that appeared on Harry's face after hearing your words was bigger than the one from winning a Grammy.

"Home it is, then."

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles fake social media #harry styles story #harrysfolklore #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles grammy #1k

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velvetcrimsonkisses · 1 month

Text

PAPA GOJO

Note: scenario based on this smau

Masterlist Discord

Satoru crouches down to his daughter's height, flashing her a warm smile, “Okay, girlie,” he says softly, voice full of love for his little girl. “Worms or bears?” he asks her, a bit of mischief laced in his words.

“Hmm…” The little girl, no more than five years old, thinks deeply about the question her father asked her. She brings her tiny finger to her lips, tapping thoughtfully, contemplating which candy she should pick. “I take the worms, papa!” Her small joyful giggles fill the room as Satoru hands over the candy with a pout.

“I wanted the worms…” he laments, flashing her a frown. The little girl giggles at her father’s antics. She shakes her head with a toothy smile, clutching the candy closer to her chest. “Papa no, you can have the bears,” She reaches her little hand out, pointing at the bag of gummy bears that rests in her father’s palm.

“Okay…” Satoru coincides with a dramatic huff. He flashes his daughter a wink letting her know he was serious, at least not completely. He stands back at his full height, taking her small hand in his, both of them making their way over to the couch. Satoru plops himself down first, the cushions sinking under his weight. His daughter climbs up beside him, nestling into the crook of his arm.

“Papa open, please?” She raises the bag of treats up to her father’s face. Satoru’s heart melted at the sight in front of him. Something about helping his daughter out with anything she needs always made him feel useful. He gently takes the bag from her small hands, “Of course,” he says with a smile, his voice filled with affection as he begins to open the bag.

“There you go,” He says, handing the bag back to her. “Thank you, Papa!” she exclaims, her voice bubbling with happiness. Without any hesitation, her little hand reaches into the bag and pulls out the first piece of candy. She pops it into her mouth, savoring the fruity taste of the gummies.

She really was a carbon copy of her father, both with a raging sweet tooth. That you curse Satoru everyday for, so much so you had to limit the amount of candy in the house. But for Satoru the look of delight on her face as she chews is priceless, and the way her little feet swing happily back and forth as she enjoys her treat. It was definitely worth disobeying his wife’s rules for once in a while.

Satoru watches her with a smile, feeling a wave of contentment take over him. It was moments like these, the simple moments, that made him feel at peace with life. “Papa… want one?” The sounds of his little girl snaps him back to reality. He sees his daughter holding up a gummy worm.

He smiles again, nodding his head. “Of course,” and with that Satoru opened his mouth, leaning down slightly, moving closer to her hand. With great care, he takes the candy into his mouth, chewing on it with exaggerated satisfaction. “Mmm, delicious,” He chuckles, his daughter following with a fit of laughter at the faces her father makes.

Both of them sit in the comfortable silence while finishing their snacks. “Now if your mother asks what you ate for lunch… what are you going to say?” Satoru grins, his eyes twinkle with mischief. Your daughter looks up at him, her eyes fill with awareness. She knows her father and she knows this tone, the one that means they’re in on something together. A little secret just between the two of them.

Her lips curl into a smile. “Ramen!” she yells out, looking up at her father again, confident with her response.

“That’s my girl,” Satoru smiles warmly, reaching out to ruffle her hair. She knew the perfect answer.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jjk satoru #satoru gojo x reader #papa gojo #dad gojo #jjk fluff #jjk

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hellodropbear · 17 days

Text

chosen.

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter

isabel is finally adopted

new chapter!!!

as always, hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think (good or bad lol) and anything else you want to see :)

~~~~~~

It was something Isabel had been nagging Mapi about for months. Maybe even longer.

Isabel wasn't stupid anymore, she knew that Mapi had not planned to be her mother. There were other people, and half of her was made of who was supposed to be her father, the man that Mapi spoke so highly of despite getting choked up every time he was brought up in conversation.

She knew they had died right before she was born and she knew that Mapi was left with a baby that she hadn't actually asked for.

Isabel knew Mapi stopped playing football until she was older, taking a long chunk out of what would have likely been the peak of her career.

She knew Ingrid came along later, which is why she had grown up calling her Ingrid.

She didn't call her Mami, she didn't call her Mama. She called her Ingrid which just seemed so wrong.

Because Ingrid was her mother, as much as Mapi.

Mapi had given birth to her, she was a single mother for the first two years probably, until her relationship with Ingrid started getting more serious and both Isabel and Mapi became more and more reliant on the brunette Norwegian that they had fallen in love with so quickly.

Isabel looked like Mapi, and she carried a few of her personality traits around with her. Outgoing, funny, chatty.

But Ingrid also raised her, which meant she carried around the Norwegian's calmness, her kindness and her emotional nature.

She was practically a carbon copy of Mapi on the outside, but anyone who knew her on the inside would say she was the perfect blend of both women.

So how come she only called one of them Mami?

Why was it that if she was seriously injured, only Mapi would be called up?

And Isabel wasn't stupid, she knew that Ingrid wished she had been there from the beginning, that her name was written on all of the important documents. She knew that Ingrid wished she was called Mama.

Not Ingrid.

When she was younger, Isabel would call Ingrid Mama when she was tired or sad, if she wanted a hug or if she was just feeling emotional.

It would be in those tender moments and Ingrid's heart would melt every time. It was always in the apartment, hidden away from the rest of the world and just the three of them there together.

But it never really stuck, and Isabel continued to call her by her first name everywhere else. Her teachers would ask about Mami and they'd ask about Ingrid, her friends would get confused because who is Ingrid?

They all just had a Mami and a Papi.

Ingrid always thought that Mami and Mama would make more sense.

So when Mapi knocked on her bedroom door, an official looking document held securely in her hand, Isabel had a very large suspicion that she knew exactly what was in that plastic slip.

Mapi could tell she knew, the way her eyes lit up and she immediately placed her guitar to the side, sitting up as Mapi moved to sit beside her.

"Is it them?"

Mapi smiled, tears in her eyes.

"Yeah, it is."

"Mami!" Isabel practically jumped on her trying to hug her, tears springing from her eyes as well. "Thank you so much!"

Mapi just shrugged.

"She's your Mama and has been for your whole life, this just makes it official."

"We have to plan something so special! Mami, I can't wait to tell her!"

Mapi laughed softly, planting a kiss on Isabel's head and hugging her in close.

"We'll just have to make sure she says yes! She might not want to be officially related to a little rodent like you."

Isabel laughed, whacking her mother's side in mock offence and rolling her eyes.

They both knew that it wasn't true, that Ingrid loved Isabel more than anything else.

"She loves me more than you, Mami, you're just jealous."

Mapi laughed, silently agreeing.

She would never admit that though.

"You wish."

~~~~~~

Isabel spent every minute of the next two weeks planning what would be the perfect surprise for Ingrid, only requesting advice from Mapi a few times.

It was a photo album that she was creating, filled with just pictures of them as Isabel got older, Mapi only featuring at times that Isabel deemed it absolutely necessary.

Birthdays, christmases, family barbecues, trips to Norway. Summer holidays on the beach.

Skating competitions, Isabel stood there proudly with the gold medal hanging round her neck, a giddy smile on her face as Ingrid had picked her up despite her rapidly growing figure.

She had scrolled through all of Mapi's old photos, printing out the good ones and sticking them in the page with stickers and little notes until it was completely full.

She wrote a letter, enlisting Caro to help her perfect her Norwegian, making her swear to secrecy - the contents of the note were strictly confidential.

She came up with a plan, something she knew Ingrid would love. A walk to their park was nothing worth being suspicious of, not even when the 10 year old pulled out Bagheera’s carrier.

It was a family affair, she told Mapi. It would be mean to leave the cat out of it just because she didn’t usually go on their walks.

It was a nice walk and a nice picnic, planned out to the T by Isabel, down to what colour lined the paper plates and how the fruits on the fruit platter would be cut.

Everything she did was for Ingrid and if the Norwegian had asked her, she would have been able to explain every single decision in a way that related back to how much she loved Ingrid.

Perhaps, for that reason, it was best that the papers were forgotten at home, because Ingrid would have been inconsolable if she saw the papers, the photo album and then was explained every single little decision made by her little girl.

Isabel was disappointed, but Mapi reassured her that the Norwegian would not mind, that her reaction wouldn't change whether she was given those papers on the top of the eiffel tower or in a dump in the middle of the city.

So the 10 year old waited until they got home and finished eating dinner, only heading up to her room to collect the file once Mapi and Ingrid were sat on the sofa, waiting for their child to return and choose something to watch.

She couldn't help the nerves that filled up her stomach, the anxieties that began to attack her as soon as the file was in her shaking hand. She almost felt sick as she walked downstairs, spying the back of Ingrid's head, hearing their voices chatting and laughing.

It took one last push of confidence to walk and stand in front of them, the file held tightly in her hands as she anxiously rocked back and forth on her heels.

She took a deep breath, realising that everything she had planned to say was long forgotten, instead just brandishing the file towards Ingrid, who took it with an air of confusion as she glanced between Isabel and Mapi.

"What's this, Is?"

Isabel cowered under her glance, suddenly full of insecurity and self doubt. Would Ingrid even want to be her mother?

She had spent so much time thinking about how much she wanted Ingrid to be her mother, that she sort of ignored the possibility that the Norwegian didn't want that.

And that would completely break the 10 year old.

"Just open it." Mapi smiled reassuringly at Isabel, noticing her nerves, before looking over at Ingrid who had completely frozen as soon as she read the first few words on the top of the first page.

She immediately broke down in tears, her body racking with sobs as she realised what she had just been given.

~~~~~~

"Isabel Leon! We're going and we're going now!" Ingrid was beyond frustrated, the 8 year old not listening to a word she said. Mapi was out of town for the week so they had been left alone together and the child was experiencing a severe case of 'I miss my mum' and it was materialising as disobedience and ignorance of Ingrid.

"No!" She slammed her door closed for effect, throwing herself on her bed and willing herself not to cry.

"Isabel, this is important and I can't leave you here. We have to go, you can sulk in the car."

The Norwegian was stood right outside the door, her hands massaging her head in frustration at the girl.

"No! I'm not coming."

Ingrid huffed, shoving open the bedroom door and picking the ever-growing child up from her bed.

"Ingrid!" She screeched loudly, almost deafening the brunette. "NO! Put me down, Ingrid, NOW!"

Her words dissolved into sobs as Ingrid continued to carry her until they had exited the apartment, the door locked behind them, Isabel left with no way to get back in.

"I want Mami, Ingrid, I miss Mami!"

She shook her head, using her hand to guide the child into the lift.

"Well Mami's gone, so you're stuck with me for now. You're just going to have to make do."

The child lashed out at the words and the contact, flipping around and facing Ingrid as the elevator doors closed.

"There's a reason you're not my Mami!"

Her vision was blurred by her tears so she couldn't see the hurt that flashed over the woman's face. She only realised later that night that what she said was wrong, that she had been horrible to someone she loved so much for no reason.

And Ingrid would never admit the reason that she was in tears as Mapi called her that night, alone and wrapped up in bed.

As she put down the phone, tears still dripping down her face. It wasn’t often that her insecurities returned, but when they did it was like wildfire, quickly spreading and destroying everything good in it’s path.

Because Isabel was right, Ingrid wasn’t her Mami. She wasn’t her Mama either, she was just Ingrid.

She was Isabel’s Mami’s girlfriend.

But if she asked either of the Spaniard’s, they would assure her that she is so much more than that.

It was with desperation that she tried to wipe her tears away as her bedroom door creaked open, Isabel creeping through the door and silently climbing up onto Mapi’s side of the bed, curling herself up in Ingrid’s side.

The Norwegian didn’t realise she was crying until she heard the sniffle, her shoulders shuddering subtly.

“Is.” Ingrid’s voice was a whisper and Isabel turned around to face her, eyes puffy and her cheeks stained with tears. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Ingrid.”

She took a deep, shuddery breath and nestled her head into Ingrid’s chest.

“Please don’t leave me and Mami.”

Ingrid frowned, wrapping her arms tighter around the girl.

“Why would you think I was leaving you and your Mami?”

Isabel shrugged, her voice breaking as she replied.

“I said that you’re not my Mami, but you are. I was naughty and you were angry and I don’t want you to leave me, Ingrid, because I love you.”

The Norwegian’s heart broke but she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and responding.

“I will never leave you and your Mami. Never ever worry about that because I will always be here. And you were just upset today, you missed Mami and you were angry and sad and said stuff to me that you didn’t mean but it’s ok, Is, because you know it was naughty and you’ve apologised. But please, never ever worry about me leaving. I love you way too much to not see you every single day.”

~~~~~~

“Where is Ingrid, Mami?”

She had woken up confused, her head sore and her arm in a cast.

All she could remember was dragging Pina and Patri to the skatepark, showing off her new tricks. They were impressive, for a 9 year old and Mapi worried every day about her little girl flying around the skatepark with little to no concern about her own safety.

When Pina and Patri had offered to babysit, she specifically told them that if they went to the skatepark, Isabel had to wear all the protective equipment that Mapi had purchased.

Which she did, the two women making sure everything was on tight, equally as nervous as Mapi tended to be whenever she had to accompany Isabel to the skatepark.

But whenever Pina or Patri turned their back, she would discreetly shed another protective item, embarrassed and humiliated in front of all the local skaters who wore nothing but their normal clothes and a helmet.

They noticed, of course they did, but Isabel was too quick on her board for them to catch her and put them back on.

“Pequena!” Patri had yelled, her voice stressed and somewhat angry. “Come back here right now and put this all back on!”

It was rare Patri yelled at her, so the harsh words came as a shock to Isabel, who tried to pull off a spin at the top of the bowl so she could turn around.

Except it was a trick she hadn’t quite mastered yet, and instead of landing it on two feet, she plummeted to the base of the bowl with a sickening crunch, immediately bursting into tears.

Pina swore as Patri jumped down to her, scooping her up in her arms and giving her a quick once over.

Her heart sank when she saw the wonky arm. Broken, easily.

Pina grabbed the board and followed quickly, jumping into the drivers seat as Patri carefully slid into the back, nursing Isabel’s arm as the 9 year old sobbed in pain.

“Please, Patri!” She had sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t tell Mami, she will be so mad at me.”

Patri sighed quietly, knowing that Mapi’s anger would be directed entirely at Pina and herself.

She didn’t tell Isabel that, instead kissing her head and soothing her, whispering quiet Spanish in her ear until her cries weakened and she fell asleep.

The doctors in the hospital had confirmed the broken arm, as well as a very minor concussion that required monitoring for 24 hours.

But she woke up, her mother’s familiar tattooed hand resting on her leg, her eyes full of worry and stress as she stared down at her daughter.

Ingrid, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

Mapi had been so caught up in her daughter’s injuries that she hadn’t even considered where Ingrid was having not seen her since that very morning.

“I’m so glad you’re ok, my lion cub.”

The discipline about her gear would come later. Even if Patri and Pina had disregarded it, she had told Isabel time and time again about it’s importance. Today, unfortunately, Mapi had been proven right.

She had yelled that to the two younger Spaniards as they waited in the hallway, sending them home with their heads bowed and tears in their eyes.

For some reason, they didn’t tell her that they had been extra careful all day, Isabel only getting hurt after they had told her to come back to replace all her knee pads. Mapi was so angry, which they had understood.

They were just upset because she had told them they would never see the little girl again, mapi couldn’t trust two people so irresponsible.

It was dramatic, of course, but Pina and Patri had never seen Mapi so angry before.

“Where’s Ingrid?”

Mapi sighed quietly, stroking Isabel’s hair back.

“I’ll call Ingrid, she can come in.”

She did just that, easily dialling the Norwegian on her phone, only having to wait through two rings before she picked up.

“Is has been asking for you, Ingrid, do you want to come over to the hospital?”

Mapi hadn’t really known where Ingrid was, but her concern about why her girlfriend wasn’t there was sort of pushed to the side as she worried about her daughter’s wellbeing.

She didn’t expect Ingrid to sound so frustrated, so upset.

“I’ve been here this whole time, Mapi! They won’t let me up because I’m not on her documents. You’re her mother, not me.”

The Spaniard’s heart dropped, immediately filling with guilt.

“I’ll be right there.”

She was practically flying down the stairs, grabbing Ingrid by the arm and pulling her into the lift.

“I’m sorry, Ingrid. I’m so sorry.”

It was hard for the Spaniard to keep her tears at bay, the emotions of her day catching up with her. But Ingrid broke down in her arms, silently crying.

“She’s my kid too, Mapi. She’s my kid too.”

Isabel didn’t know why both Ingrid and Mapi were crying when they entered her room again, but she did finally feel at ease with them both on either side of her, swiftly falling asleep as their hands rested on her smaller form.

~~~~~~

Her first day of school had gone well. Better than well, really, she had loved everything about it.

Her teacher, her friends, the food, her new pencil case and backpack.

Everything had been perfect. It was still perfect as she spied her mother standing by the gate, Baloo’s leash in her hand as the young golden retriever stood steady by her side.

“Mamiii!”

Her backpack was dropped on the floor as she raced towards Mapi, throwing herself into her open arms and sighing contentedly as she was picked up, her head fitting easily on Mapi’s shoulders.

“Oh hello there!”

Mapi smiled, walking over to the abandoned school bag and skillfully bending down to pick it up with one hand, her daughter and the dog’s leash being held securely in the other.

“How was your day, Is?”

Her question caused the girl to burst into excited chatter, eating Mapi’s ear off with her words as she recounted every possible story from the moment she was dropped off the the moment she was reunited, her words so quick that she was all finished by the time they arrived back to the apartment.

“I made a friend, Mami!”

She skipped beside her mother as they walked towards the lift, a grin settled on her face.

Mapi was impressed, but not remotely surprised. It seemed that her daughter had inherited her own chattiness and confidence, but she was also an inherently happy kid who practically radiated sunshine.

Mapi never had to worry about the girl making friends.

So she listened as Isabel told her all about her new friend Sofie, about how she wasn’t even from Spain.

“She’s from the same place as Esmee, Mami!”

Dutch, Mapi thought. She wondered what a Dutch family was doing in Barcelona.

She continued to talk about Sofie’s older brother, her mother and father. Her grandparents and her cousins.

But a small frown settled upon her face, as she looked up at Mapi with an inquisitive gaze.

“I told her that I have a Mami, but no Papi. She asked who else looks after me because her Mami needs her Papi’s help all the time, so I told her I have an Ingrid, but she didn’t really get it. Because Ingrid isn’t a Papi.”

Mapi sighed, unclipping Baloo from his leash and moving to unpack Isabel’s backpack.

“Come up here, Is.” She patted the kitchen bench in front of her and the girl raced over, pulling herself up onto the bench with a practised ease.

“You don’t have a Papi, no. But you have a Mami, don’t you?” Isabel nodded her head eagerly, wriggling slightly in her spot. “And who else do you have?”

“I have an Ingrid!”

Mapi nodded, but gave her a look that prompted her to continue.

“And an Ale, a Frido, Esmee! Pina, Patri. Leila, even though she lives all the way in England.”

“Who else?”

“Abuela and Abuelo! And tio and tia!”

Mapi nodded proudly, placing her hands on Isabel’s shoulders.

“You don’t have a Papi, Is, but you do have so many people here that love you, Ingrid more than anyone. We can’t even remember life without Ingrid, can we?”

Isabel shook her head, frowning.

“I miss her when she’s away.”

“So do I.”

It was true, the house always seemed so much more quiet whenever the Norwegian had to return to Norway, even though she made by far the least noise out of all of them. She was a popular presence and one that made life so much more enjoyable for the two of them.

Of course on the other side, Ingrid missed them equally as much and she was absolutely devastated that her national team duties were pulling her away from Isabel as she started school, one of the biggest days yet in her short life.

But she had missed yet another milestone, just as she was cementing her place as a mother in Isabel’s life.

“But Is, she’s your Mami too. You know this, she’s Mama.”

Isabel nodded.

“I don’t think Sofie knew that it was ok to have no Papi because she looked sad when I told her.”

“Well, tomorrow you can tell Sofie that you’re ok! You don’t need a Papi because you have a Mama instead. Tell Sofie that families always look different but that doesn’t mean we love each other any less.”

She grinned, her head bobbing up and down happily.

“I love you Mami!”

Mapi smiled, reciprocating her words without hesitation.

“Do you want to call Ingrid and tell her the same thing?”

“Let’s call Mama!”

Mapi smiled with pride, scooping Isabel up in her arms and walking them over to the sofa as she dialled Ingrid.

And that is where they sat for the next couple of hours, on the phone to their Ingrid, cuddled up in each others arms.

It was Mapi’s favourite place, only made better when the Norwegian was right there too, her soft skin providing that extra love and warmth that both Spaniards desired so deeply.

Ingrid was family now. Irreplaceable and incomparable.

But if you asked Mapi, she would say that Ingrid had been family from the moment she first held Isabel in her arms.

~~~~~~

Isabel watched as Ingrid broke down, tears streaming down her face and landing with big splats on her legs.

The Norwegian was always going to be emotional, that was expected. Both Spaniards knew how insecure she was about her place in Isabel’s life, her role in this family. The insecurities were thick, stubborn. They never went away, despite how much Isabel and Mapi tried to cut them out, to push them away.

The truth was enough for them to withstand any pushing that the mother daughter duo attempted, the facts were all there.

Mapi was Isabel’s mother, she was the one on the documents, the one who was called if anything happened. She was allowed in Isabel’s hospital room when she got sick and she was the one that Isabel called Mami.

Ingrid knew she was important, she knew she was loved.

But she had always been Ingrid, excluding those few treasured times where Isabel had tiredly reached out for Mama. She found everything out through Mapi, she wasn’t even on the email list for her school.

But these documents changed everything.

For Ingrid, they changed everything.

For Isabel and Mapi they changed nothing at all.

Ingrid’s tears were expected, they were justified. But all she needed to do was look up at Isabel for her to run into her arms, almost toppling her over from her seated position on the sofa with the shear force of her body ramming into Ingrid’s, her arms easily wrapping around her.

The Norwegian reciprocated the hug, her tears saturating the shoulder of Isabel’s shirt.

“Do you want to be my Mama?”

Ingrid’s sobs became more audible as she tried to respond, words failing her as she nodded. The tears continued, Baloo looking up in confusion as the Norwegian cried, as Mapi did nothing to console her, instead watching on with a wet smile, tears dripping down her face.

She was grateful to Ingrid because without her, life would be completely different. Without Ingrid, she would likely be a single mother. She and Isabel would live alone, Bagheera there too but Baloo wouldn’t have been an option if there wasn’t another adult there.

Ingrid was the first time Mapi ever felt true love, the first time she ever felt like she was loved completely and romantically. The Norwegian made her happy, she made Isabel happy too.

She had changed their lives for the better.

Mapi would never be able to thank her enough.

She watched as Ingrid’s cries softened, as she leant back and grabbed Isabel’s shoulders, looking at her straight in the eyes.

“I would love nothing more, Isabel.”

It wasn’t long before Isabel disappeared, racing up to her room to grab her gift. As she left, Mapi easily retook her spot beside the Norwegian, kissing away the tears that still fell from her eyes.

“You didn’t have to do this, Maria. I can’t believe it.”

The brunette just shrugged.

“This is what’s right. You’ve raised her with me, you’re her mother, Ingrid. I didn’t think it was necessary for such a long time but last year at the hospital… it’s important to me that you know it only took me so long because it won’t change anything for me. You have always been her mother, ever since you walked into my life.”

Ingrid nodded, ready to reply before she heard the feet thundering back down the stairs, telling Mapi that they would have this conversation later.

Shyly, Isabel handed over a neatly folded piece of paper and the photo book, sitting down on the other side of Ingrid as they flipped through it.

It was how they spent the rest of the night, snuggled up together on the sofa, lots of tears shed as they flipped through the book of photos.

Isabel fell asleep once they were done, the TV turned on as all three of them were emotionally exhausted, eyes puffy and faces red. Ingrid could only smile, her hand tangling up in Isabel’s head of hair as she slept peacefully on her mother’s lap.

“My daughter. She’s my daughter, Maria.”

~~~~~~

It was a week of happiness in the Engen-Leon household, the Norwegian radiating positivity as she adjusted to her new role in Isabel’s life.

Nothing changed, really, except for Ingrid’s security.

It wasn’t even something you could see from the outside, but Mapi knew her well enough to understand how much happier she was, like she had finally been relieved from a weight that she’d been carrying around for so long. It was a relief for all of them.

The letter that Isabel wrote, however, had been left unread on her bedside table.

It was in Norwegian, that much she knew. Apparently, the 10 year old had called up Caro to ask for some help with the language, making sure it was perfect before she gave it to her mother.

It was a bit more than a week later, her and Mapi laying in bed one evening, Isabel fast asleep in her room down the hall. The Spaniard was scrolling through her phone, her spare hand lazily carding through Ingrid’s thick locks.

The Norwegian was holding that folded piece of paper, staring at it like it held the secrets to the world.

“Just open it.”

Mapi chuckled as soon as she store what her Norwegian was looking at, the familiar lined paper forever etched into her brain after such a big deal had been made about it.

“It’s in Norwegian!” Ingrid smiled, looking over at Mapi. “Caro said I should prepare my tissues, Maria!”

“You would have cried if she said ‘I hate you Ingrid I wish you weren’t my Mama’ if it was written in Norwegian.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes at Mapi chuckled at her own joke, her phone dropping into her lap.

“It won’t say that though. It will probably be heart wrenching because our girl is smart and has a unique way with words.”

Ingrid flopped backwards onto her pillow, sighing dramatically.

“I’m going to be sobbing, Mapi.”

The Spaniard could only shrug.

“Probably.”

It took a few more sighs and a couple more minutes for her to open the letter, unfolding the piece of paper at a painfully slow speed, Mapi just rolling her eyes at Ingrid’s dramatics.

But the brunette’s eyes glazed over as soon as she saw the first line, neat Norwegian printed onto the page.

Dear Mama.

And so the waterworks began.

I haven’t called you Mama my whole life, but I don’t really know why. You’re my Mama, you always have been. When I talk to my friends, I’ll call you Ingrid, but I will always question why, I’ll question why I call you that.

I know that Mami was the one who had me, that she didn’t mean to have me and was only left with me because the people who I was named after, Isabel and Luis, died.

She always tells me not to say that she was left with me because it makes it sound like she didn’t want me, which isn’t true.

But Mami never had the choice, even if she didn’t want me. She was left with me, a baby. I would have been a lot of work. But she loves me and I love her so it worked and I don’t have any memories of being sad.

I don’t have any memories of that time at all, really. No memories of anything that happened before you came.

You had the choice, Mama. You didn’t have to choose to be my Mama. You love Mami and she loves you of course, but she had a baby. You didn’t have to take me into your arms and immediately love me as much as you do.

You could have chosen that you wanted nothing to do with me, you could have chosen to just be Mami’s girlfriend - a step mother who doesn’t really love her step-daughter.

But you didn’t choose that. You chose to love me and I chose to love you.

Somehow, it seems so much more special that way.

You’ve been there for me my whole life. You took me to Norway with you, the first time I left the country without Mami. You would look after me when she was sad, take me to the park and distract me with toys and Baloo. You were the one who convinced Mami to let me on a skateboard and you were the one who realised that I didn’t like football, taking the pressure off me to succeed at the sport you both love.

You have been to every school awards night, concert, play. You are always there and I always spot you because you always have such a big smile on your face, one that I like to think is reserved just for me and Mami.

And I love you so much. You make me so happy and you always have.

I can’t believe how lucky I am that you chose to love me like you do.

Lots of love,

Your daughter Is.

The tears that had been pouring down her face were hitting her legs as she finished reading, Mapi’s arms pulling her close as she carefully folded the paper back up, putting it in the top drawer of her nightstand.

“My daughter Is.” She whispered softly and if Mapi wasn’t right in her space, she wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“Your daughter Is.” She confirmed, using her finger to gently wipe away her tears. “She loves you so much.”

Ingrid could only nod, words once again failing her.

“We both love you so very much. We are both so grateful for you and everything you do to make our lives so much better.”

“I love you too, Maria.”

~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed! please let me know what you thought and send in anything you want to see :)

have a good day!

#mapi leon #ingrid engen #mapi leon x ingrid engen #mapi leon x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #ingrid engen x reader

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parfaitblogs · 2 months

Note

you know what would be cool? A blurb about Spencer and girly!reader who's a total nerd and loves ribbons, dresses and jewels. I HATE the stereotype of nerdy people who don't care much about how they look and dress in a ""weird"" way

spencer reid x girly!reader. fluff. 0.6k words. fem reader. reader likes harry potter (it's briefly mentioned. fuck jkr!)

a/n: so u mean penelope garcia?? kidding! idk how good i feel about this but i really wanted to get this request up sorry it’s so late :( thank you for the request ♡

spencer reid who did not expect to feel anything other than fleeting attraction for the pretty girl he had bumped into at the coffee shop closest to the quantico building. or to actually see you again other than that one moment in the midst of his running-late-to-work panic. only to have found out that the brand new member that aaron hotchner was introducing that day was none other than that same pretty girl.

who had stammered out another apology — the stack of them were growing quite high for a man you had only met that morning — and introduced himself to you, properly. spencer reid who you could hear telling morgan to shut up, because "she might hear you!" because he was teasing spencer about the way he was looking at you and he feared the absolute worst when it came to girls like you.

spencer reid who's nerves melted away the first time you contributed something to the team during a briefing — something about the statistics of the child abduction you all were currently investigating, that he was able to bounce off of and agree with. you both had to dumb down the words you had used and explain it to the rest of the team again. which he was used to. he didn't think he'd ever find someone who had to do that as well.

who listened to you when you began to ramble about this book series you were reading and how cool it is because "it spans like three different continents and there's so many different sub-series but they all connect somehow!" and nobody else was listening. but he was.

spencer reid who began to accept your rides home after you had learned he usually catches the train, because you had discovered he lived only a block away from you. rides home that eventually turned into going over to each other's apartments after that one time he said he wanted to show you the hogwarts lego set because you mentioned liking the series.

he stopped coming up with excuses to have you over the fourth time, and had simply said "i just want you to come over". that was the day you had discovered you think you might like him.

spencer reid who let you sleep on his bed despite your own insistence when it hit two in the morning and you both had work the next morning and you were still at his apartment watching doctor who together (he was flabbergasted to learn you had never seen it).

and he had woken you up the next morning and he was so cute and his hair was sticking up everywhere and he was kind of smiling at you and you confirmed with yourself that yes, you liked him.

spencer reid who had properly asked you on a date after a long three months of you flirting with him because morgan had been seeing it and was getting sick of him doing nothing about it. who picked you up this time, and had laughed when you wound the windows of his car back up because "my hair will fly everywhere!" and "if i lose this bow, you're paying for a new one spencer reid!"

but he had also kind of forgotten how to talk, when he sat across from you at the kind of dingy italian restaurant (he didn't know where else to take you, okay?). because while he had fallen for a girl who shared so many interests with him he was sure she might be his carbon copy, he was also violently reminded (as he was every time he looked at you) how pretty you were.

and spencer reid wishes he could describe you with any other word, because he's sure there's bigger and harder to say words out there that could describe you. but none of them made sense the way pretty did.

you had questioned his silence and he had stammered as much as he did the day you met, and you smiled because if all it took was you dressing up to fluster him, you decided you'd do it a lot more often.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

#lia’s blurbs ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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caesium-55 · 6 months

Text

—seven days [ epilogue ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

warnings: mentions of death and suicide.

author's note: here's the epilogue and the end end of the seven days series. thank you everyone for showing love to this fic! i was honestly so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of all of you. also, i apologize for all the broken hearts i caused after posting chapters 4-7. stay safe yall! i'll rest my fingers for real now. my doctor wasn't very happy with me. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal @landorris @onecojg @leclercdream @vicurious28 @c-losur3 @spookystitchery @0710khj @strollnstroll @justab-eautifulmess @ssrcsm @seasonswinter @kravitzwhore @mycure156 i hope i didn't forget anyone

masterlist.

Julio [Name] was not an ambitious person. He didn't have dreams or concrete plans in life. But in 1985, his first dream was born. He wanted to be an F1 racer after reading about the Portuguese Grand Prix in a local newspaper where he saw a Brazilian racer even younger than him participate in it and winning it. Ayrton Senna was the racer’s name, twenty-five years old. At that time, Julio [Name] was the same age.

He immediately searched for the nearest karting track. He brought his then girlfriend, Sally Kingston, a dental student in USC, to the kart zone for their date. It was safe to say that driving was not exactly his forte. He crashed his rental kart and had to pay the damages. He was afraid that he made himself a loser in front of the Sally Kingston, the richest, prettiest, and nicest girl from L.A., and that she wouldn't wanna go out with a bumpkin like him anymore, but she had only laughed at him—her eyes turning into little crescents, showing too much teeth and gums—and from then and there, he knows he’s going to marry Sally Kingston one day. He might not have become a F1 driver, but he ended up marrying the girl of his dreams.

Him and Sally welcomed a son in 1991. They named him Damiano and he turned out to be a carbon copy of his beloved wife, not that Julio was complaining. When Damiano turned five, Julio brought him in the kart zone and let him try driving the kart. Damiano adored it so Julio signed him up for racing school. Three weekends later, Damiano got sick of driving around in circles so he stopped. Sally gave birth to a daughter in the same year—1996.

Five years later, he brings [Name], his mija, into the kart zone. He expected that you’ll be like Damiano, too, getting sick of the thing after three weekends or so. You didn't. You loved karting and going fast, almost dangerously so. You lasted five weekends so Julio signed you up for the kart zone’s junior racing school and you were their first female member. You won your first race when you were six, only seven months after you officially joined.

“She was born to race,” the team head told Julio. Julio then decided that he’d do whatever it takes so you could become a F1 driver.

Like his initial dream, his dream for you couldn't be brought to reality. When you were nine, you had to stop karting for financial reasons. Damiano was in high school, Rafael had leukemia, and Dominic had just been born. When Julio told you the news, you were sad but you understood why the decision was made so you never complained. You learned how to play billiards instead and your Abuelo was the one who taught you. It's cheaper than karting so Sally and Julio gave you their full support.

Julio [Name] was pleasantly surprised when you told him that you got accepted in USC’s engineering department years later. He half expected that you’d be like Damiano, who took an interest in dentistry, and was attending dental school. He was going to be a dentist like his mother. He was a perfect copy of Sally.

“If I can't be a racer, I’ll become a mechanical engineer,” you declared, head held high. Julio couldn't be anymore proud. You were living his dream.

If you asked Julio [Name] if he had lived a happy life despite not reaching his dreams, he would say yes without hesitation. He married the love of his life, Sally Kingston, now Sally [Last Name]. His first son, Damiano, had topped dental school and followed in his mother’s footsteps. His daughter, [Name], graduated with flying colors, a mechanical engineering degree under her belt and entered the motorsports industry, the first in the family to do so. (You even got him Fernando Alonso’s autograph! That's his second favorite driver!) Not only that, she volunteered at the LAFD during her college years and competed in a billiards tournament in Vegas, Australia, and the UK. You had the potential to be an international-level pool player but you didn't pursue the sport because you wanted to be an engineer. Rafael didn't let leukemia beat him and now, he’s finishing up his last year in CalTech, pursuing mechanical engineering like his older sister. A research team in Sweden had been eyeing him for a while now. Dominic, on the other hand, is steadily building a career for himself in volleyball. He was offered a sports scholarship in Harvard so, despite the fact that he’s going even farther than his siblings with no relatives near him like in L.A., Julio pushed him to pursue what he wanted. His children are his pride and joy. He spent every single day bragging about his children to his colleagues. The others had expressed their envy to him. Did Julio save a country in his last life to have such great children?

Furthermore, he’d been promoted to be the captain of Station 131 in Austin. Julio may not have driven an F1 car but he wouldn't even trade this family over anything in this world, not even the life of luxury and thrill of a Formula One Driver.

(What Julio didn't know was that Damiano had serious depression in dental school that he carried even after graduating, that you weren't accepted as an engineer in F1 and was stuck in a managerial position for the last five years, that Sweden found a better researcher than Rafael so he’s stuck suffering physically and mentally in a degree with his future unclear and cloudy, and Dominic was slowly losing passion in volleyball but it's the only thing putting him through college right now so he grits his teeth and put himself on court. No one told Julio. Julio got enough of his dreams broken already.)

Truthfully, despite working for Red Bull for half a decade, you never liked its taste. You were always the Monster Energy type of girl. It's the one drink that kept you functioning through all the all-nighters you pulled in engineering school. However, you kind of lost the palate for Monster Energy so now, here you are, standing outside a gas station mini mart in the middle of the dusty highway that leads to El Paso. You hold the chilled can of Red Bull against the side of your neck, satisfied with the feeling of something cool pressing against your skin. The temperature in Texas is going absolutely crazy this time of the year. In your other hand, two cigarette sticks balance in between your fingers. You crave the deadly nicotine. Desperately. But you're not stupid enough to smoke at a gas station because of your cravings.

Your phone vibrates and you pull it out of your pocket to see who messaged you. You snicker when you view the barrage of pictures from the Austin Grand Prix that Leo sent. A stolen shot of Logan, meme faces of Alex, the air show, a selfie with THE Fernando Alonso, and a Tiktok video with the other Williams mechanics.

You watched the race from the stands today and truthfully, you prefer watching the race in the garage than on the stands. It's unbelievably boring to be there. People pay thousands of dollars to sit under the excruciating heat of the sun and catch a glimpse of very fast cars for a nanosecond. You wouldn't even catch sight of if you blink. Nevertheless, you're happy that Leo is having the time of his life. You wish you share the same shoes.

leo: so so sad that u have to go

you: id be flattered if u actually mean it

leo: *rolling eyes emoji*

leo: i hope you choke on your beer

you: i hope you choke on the celebratory champagne

you: and i dont drink and drive

leo: good to know ur not stupid

leo: on a serious note make sure to drive to el paso safely

you: aight aight

leo: u know i have something to confess

you: if it's something stupid, don't bother

leo: ur stupid

you: fuck u

leo: shut up

leo: just wanna say i didn't break up with u bc u gave max too much attention

leo: i know that's what i said but i only said that bc i knew that u needed max to achieve ur dreams

leo: and idk i just thought max wouldn't give it to u not when im still dating u

you: that's stupid

you: max isn't like that

leo: hes in love with u

Your heart stutters. You ignore it.

you: liar

leo: i could tell u lil shit

leo: idk he looked like someone who’d hold a grudge

you: he does hold grudges

leo: and i cant allow myself to stand in between you and the one person who can give you your dream you know?

leo: i loved you enough to let you go to him

You choke on your saliva. You don't love Leo romantically anymore and you are sure that the feelings are mutual but his abrupt confession is enough to bring back the pain of loving him and letting him go all over again.

leo: u sure u won’t stay to see him?

leo: he’s the one who wants to see you the most

you: his ig messages makes me think otherwise

You're a fucking coward. A pussy.

leo: you didn't see the man [name]

leo: you don't know how empty he looks now

A shadow of guilt darkens your eyes. You quickly shove your phone into the pocket of your jacket. You open the Red Bull and take a large swig, almost draining the entire can. You exhale loudly after drinking, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You stare at the vast expanse of the dry earth before you, starting to understand the appeal of aimless road trips in the southern roads.

The world seems to be turning in slow motion now.

Ever since your father died, time feels like it was moving too fast. You arrived at the hospital half an hour after Julio was officially pronounced dead. At that time, you felt like the world was ending. Your knees gave out in the middle of the hospital hallway. Your mother’s wail echoed in your ears. Damiano and Dominic were trying to console her, both of whom were crying terribly. You stare at them, face empty despite the hurricane brewing within you. Rafael wrapped his arms around you and you held onto him as he cried uncontrollably.

Your mother possessed a weak heart. She’d grown weaker and weaker day by day after your father passed. Your father’s station held a ceremony for him to pay tribute to their fallen captain. You were the one who carried his helmet all throughout the ceremony because the entire station knew you were his most prized child. When you flipped the helmet, there was a photo taped on it. A photo of the entire family at your graduation ceremony in USC. You maintained that tired and empty stare during the entire procession. In the middle of the ceremony, your mother collapsed.

Your father’s death was the first domino to be tipped. Your mother’s collapse during the funeral was the second. From then on, everything turned to shit. Your mother had always been frail and prone to sickness so it didn’t surprise you when she had grown so weak in a matter of days. She couldn't sleep. She didn't want to eat. She lost her will to do anything else. You took her to the hospital after a week because you were afraid she was beginning to become malnourished. Damiano suggested moving your mother to El Paso, to your Abuelo and Abuela’s farm, so your mother could recuperate there, and you agreed. The entire family moved to El Paso quickly, leaving the house in Vista Del Pueblo empty and celebrated the New Year there.

You opened your phone for the first time since you landed in ATX on the 30th and a barrage of messages had been sent to you. From Daniel, Logan, Leo, Kendall, Julia. You freeze when you see Max’s name. Your finger hovers above it, hesitating. Your mind trailed back to the five years you spent in Red Bull, to all the memories with Max in it, to what happened inside his penthouse in Monaco, the jet, the night you spent in his sheets, the shoes and—

Fuck.

“Kelly,” you mumbled to yourself, typing her username in the search box. You began typing up a message. You're not mentally equipped to write a long message of apology. Your mental dictionary was not ready to use so you decided to half ass the entire message and hope for the best.

you: sorry about the breakup

you: i didn't know about the shoes

you: i didn't take it

you: im so sorry

you: i hope you're not too hurt

In truth, you loved Kelly for Max. You never had problems with her. At first, you were concerned about the great age gap between her and Max as she was even older than Danny but then you figured that you did not have a say because Leo was also younger than you, born in the same year as Max. Then, you saw how she was so caring to Max, so patient in dealing with his misplaced anger, so supportive. You saw how Max transformed into a better version of himself, something you are not even capable of doing, because of Penelope and Kelly. How he became the world's most massive girl dad without trying. You ignored every bitter feeling that sprouted on your chest because you saw Max was happy and his happiness always came first. And now, you’re here, apologizing to Kelly for taking Max away from her.

kelly: i think i’m the one who’s been taking him from you

kelly: take care of him for me

you: thank you for loving him

You can't imagine how hurt Kelly was. Imagine dating and preparing a man so he could be perfect for another girl.

you: but i can’t do what you're asking

you: not anymore

“Not anymore,” you whisper to yourself, as if uttering it to the wind would cement it as the truth.

Not anymore, Max. I’m sorry.

Rafael and Dominic told you that they want to drop out of college to help you out with Mama a few days after New Year’s. You quickly told them no, to finish college and that you could handle taking care of two senior citizens and your sickly mother and help out on the farm since you’re essentially jobless at the moment.

The third domino is Damiano. You were always aware he’d been clinically depressed, taking medications to help him get better. Whatever he went through in dental school, he carried it with him until he was working. You believed he was getting better. He was seeing a therapist for years now and you were checking up on him every day. Then, like Mama, he just…. became worse. Rafael found him submerged in the bathtub in his apartment, red painting his wrists. Had Rafael not been there at the right time, Damiano would have followed Papa Julio.

The fourth domino is Dominic. He ruined his hand in March. The doctor told him it was dangerous for him to continue playing volleyball competitively. It was either he learned how to set with only his non-dominant hand because his dominant hand is partially crippled or he stopped playing all together. He’d choose the second option with no hesitation as he had lost his passion for the sport but if he’s not playing for Harvard anymore, no one would be able to pay his fees until graduation. Not when Julio died, not when Sally was too sick to continue working, not when Damiano was currently unstable, not when you’re the only one who had been supporting the entire family through your entire savings account. Red Bull must have paid you a lot of money because you’ve been keeping the entire family afloat for months now.

The fifth domino is Rafael, who got his entire thesis overhauled so now, his graduation was out of the picture. It sucked. He’d always been expected to follow his older siblings’ footsteps, both of whom are academically excelling individuals and Rafael had been studying and studying and studying. So why was this happening to him? Why was this happening to his family?

The sixth domino was yet to be tipped over.

You refuse to fall.

You blink, suddenly back in reality when you hear a loud caw of a bird flying above your head. You shake your head, tossing the Red Bull in a nearby trash can and returning inside the mini mart. The amount of caffeine in a Red Bull isn’t enough. You need more. You need fucking coffee.

Gas station coffee sucks but you’re never the type who complains. El Paso is still eight hours away and you’re sure you're going to be driving your motorcycle the entire night just to reach the farm the next morning.

You walked towards the Yamaha XSR 155 parked in front of the mini-mart, a styro cup of coffee that’s as black as your soul and as bitter as your life in your hand. Hypnotizing swirls of steam rise from the cup. In each step you take, the key that is attached to your hip jingles.

It's a little past four in the afternoon but the darkness of the sky makes you think it's around six PM. You pocket your cigarettes and stand beside your motorcycle, hand on your hip while the other brings the cup of coffee to your mouth. A car suddenly arrives, coming to a screeching halt in front of you. You flinch in surprise, almost spilling your coffee in your hands. You hiss loudly, brows furrowing, a curse sitting on the tip of your tongue. You hear the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut and when you look up—

“Max.”

He’s still in his Red Bull overalls, drenched in sweat as if he ran to the gas station instead of driving. His hair is windswept, sticking out in multiple directions almost attractively so. He looks simultaneously distraught and relieved when your eyes met. The longing in his eyes. God. You unconsciously take a step back and turn around—a flight response—when he charges in your direction.

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, stopping you from your tracks and causing your coffee to spill and fall down pathetically on the floor. You avoided the puddle, hands reaching behind you to guide Max away from the steaming liquid. But it’s too late. You saw the hot coffee touch his skin.

“Max!” you exclaim, eyes going wide. Your hand wraps around his forearm, pulling it but his grip on you tightens so you resort to tapping his arm in hopes that he’ll let go and you can inspect his injured hand and make a quick run for the mini mart for first-aid supplies.

“Max, let go,” you say, panicking. “Your hand—”

“Don’t leave,” his voice cracks.

“I won't go, okay? Let go and I’ll—”

“No,” the hug tightens and you suck in a breath. “You’ll leave again. I know you’ll leave again.”

“I’ll fix your hand. You can’t burn your hand—”

“I can endure it. Let me have this please,” he pleads. You pull his hand but Max remains stubborn. Resigned, you sigh. It turns out that you’re still the same, giving whatever Max wanted.

“I’m sorry for getting angry,” he begins. “I’m sorry for stopping you from going to Renault. I’m sorry for promising that I’d talk to Christian. I’m sorry that I didn't. I’m sorry that you had to break up with Leo because of me. I’m sorry that I realized that I fell in love with you while dating Kelly. I’m sorry for the shoes. I’m sorry for getting drunk. I’m sorry for being so selfish. I’m sorry for not considering you. I’m sorry for loving you. I’m so, so sorry, [Name]. For everything.”

His words come rapidly and frankly, you don't want to hear Max like this. Max rarely apologizes. You're not used to hearing him apologize.

“Max—”

“I called, [Name].”

You freeze.

“I called so many times. Not once have you answered. Not once—” a loud sob erupts from his mouth, interrupting him. “You always come when I call.”

You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

“I sent you a message,” he continues. “To wait for me. I know I’m selfish but can I have five minutes please? Just….five?”

A pause.

“Okay,” you whisper. Max’s body trembles against yours and you stand still for a few minutes,

“Hey,” you say gently, suddenly reminded that you're standing in an open space and Max is still in his Red Bull overalls and he doesn't even have his usual cap on and this compromising situation you're both in was going to be bad for Max’s online reputation once the wrong pair of eyes manage to catch sight of you. You can already imagine what the headlines would be.

MAX VERSTAPPEN AND HIS FORMER MANAGER CAUGHT HUGGING IN A GASOLINE STATION AFTER AUSTIN GP.

MAX VERSTAPPEN AND FORMER RED BULL MANAGER IN A RELATIONSHIP?

FORMER RED BULL MANAGER POTENTIAL REASON FOR BREAKUP BETWEEN KELLY PIQUET AND MAX VERSTAPPEN?

MAX VERSTAPPEN CHEATED ON KELLY PIQUET WITH FORMER MANAGER?

MAX VERSTAPPEN, FULL-TIME WORLD TIME CHAMPION, PART-TIME CHEATING ASSHOLE.

God. You can already imagine the headache splitting the entire PR team’s skulls. The world already hates Max because of how good he was at his sport. You can’t allow people to shit on him more because of you.

“Max,” you try again, tapping his forearm so he can loosen his hold on you and you can turn around. “Max, baby, cooperate with me for a bit, yeah?”

You tug on his wrist and you can't help but sigh in relief when his arms loosen a little. He’s beginning to choke you a little bit. With his arms still around you, you pivot on your heels so you’re face-to-face with his broad chest.

When you look up to Max’s face, your heart shatters into a million pieces. His tears continue to flow and violent sobs wrack his entire body, robbing him of the ability to speak and barely allowing a breath to be drawn. He’s going to hyperventilate. Fucking dammit.

“Max,” how many times have you said his name in the last few minutes? “Hey, breathe with me.”

Your hand cradles his jaw and your eyes focused on his blue ones and fuck, they’re as insanely beautiful as you remembered.

“Breathe.”

You perform exaggerated inhales and exhales so Max can match your breaths, his hands settling on your shoulders. His palms feel heavy against your shoulders and his fingers dig deep into your skin.

“I’m here, Champ. I’m here,” you assure him. “I’m here now.”

You wait until he calms down a little and when he does, your right hand searches for his, intertwining your fingers together to assure him that you’re not going anywhere just yet. Your other hand comes up to hold the area below his neck and you slowly guide him back to his car. It’s a little difficult, Max obviously has no intention to let you go, but you know how to make things work.

Max sits on the driver's seat with you standing outside of the car. He's still clinging onto your hand and you use the other hand to hold the roof of the car for support. Max stopped crying now, staring blankly at you with a sad pout on his face. His tears are now dry, staining his cheeks.

“You okay now, Champ?” you ask, never failing to sound gentle. That's what Max needs now. Gentleness. God forbid you pull a Jos Verstappen.

Max shakes his hand, making you sigh deeply. Your eyes trail to the hands, the pale skin now an angry red.

“Max,” you call his attention. He looks up at you and you have to avoid his gaze because if you look at his face, your heart hurts. “I’ll get something from the mini-mart for your burn, aight?”

He shakes his head and his grip on your hand impossibly tightens. If he keeps this up, he’s going to break your bones.

“No.”

If you were the same person that you were in 2023, you would have let Max do what he wanted. What Max wanted, what Max shall get—that’s the philosophy you lived by. But things are different now. Leo told you that you’re allowing Max to take too much from you and Max needs to learn to actually listen to you.

You’ve been taught to treat even the most minor of burns as if it’s a major burn. That's what you are planning to do right now.

“Max,” you say, a little firmer now. “Gonna grab somethin’ in the mart real quick, you stay here, aight?”

“No—”

“Not askin’, Champ,” you interrupt him. “I'm not leavin’ yet, not goin’ anywhere until I make sure you’re okay. So stay here and wait.”

You swiftly remove the key attached to your belt and force it into his palm, “Here are my keys. I’m not goin’ to drive off and leave you here, aight? Do you trust me?”

You have a feeling that this anxiety of his might have stemmed from that one incident in his childhood where Jos left him at a gas station. Fucking son of a bitch that man was.

Hesitantly, Max says, “I do.”

“Good,” you ruffle his hair, dampening your palm.

You can see he does not like what you're doing now but he does not have any choice so he sits in the car, looking as pitiful as ever. You jog up to the mini-mart, immediately going to the beverage section to grab a bottle of water and passing by the hygiene shelf to snatch a handkerchief. You go to the counter and the middle aged guy manning the register obviously does not look impressed that you’re in his shop for the third time in the same hour, which is stupid because he should be glad that he has a customer. You put everything on the counter, pulling out some bills from your back pocket.

“You happen to have neosporin?” you ask.

“Do we look like a drug store?” he retorts. You roll your eyes, toss the bills to the cashier, and grab your items without even waiting for the guy to wrap them all up in a paper bag. You jog back to Max’s car.

“Excuse me,” you lean inside the car, opening the compartment to search for a burn cream you left inside there last year. Your eyes land on his keys, stiffening when you notice that Max kept every single gift you gave him. The bead keychain from 2020, the bottle opener keychain from 2021, the clay figure keychain from 2022, and the bracelet from 2023 sway slightly, staring back at you. You shake your head and resume doing your original mission. You find the burn cream and you immediately search for the expiration date. January 2025; it’s still good to use.

You straighten, take hold of Max’s wrist gently, and roll up his long sleeves up to his elbows. You open the water bottle and tug Max’s hand towards you so he won't get water on his car as you pour water on his burn. Once the bottle is nearly empty, you apply the cream on the reddened area of his skin. Then, you use the handkerchief, which you dampen using the leftover water, to dress it.

Max is silent the entire ordeal, watching you work your way meticulously and carefully around his hand. The same meticulousness one can expect from a former firefighter paramedic volunteer.

You step back to inspect your work, but Max’s hand stretches out towards you, grabbing the hem of your jacket.

“Sorry,” he says and yet you see his knuckles slowly turning white, which makes you unsure if he truly is apologetic or not. “Just…yeah, sorry. Can you stay for a while please?”

“Have to leave soon,” you say. “El Paso’s still hours away. I have to be there by morning.”

He nods, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, “Okay.”

“Thirty minutes, Max,” you decide. “Thirty minutes.”

You pull out your phone from your pocket to check the time and see the multiple notification bars. You type the password and direct to the message app to see the flurry of messages Max sent earlier. You have not noticed them.

max: i heard you came

max: where are you

max: please

max: can you give me ten minutes

max: just

max: please

max: wait for me

max: i’m not angry anymore

max: im begging you

max: or five minutes [name] im okay with just five

max: or even less

max: i just need to see you

“Who told you I was here?” you question, brows knitting together. There are currently two names in your head. They both start with the letter L and they both work at Williams.

“Leo called me and told me you were here.”

“Of course he did,” you roll your eyes. Logan will never dare betray you like this. You made Leo promise not to tell Max where you were in El Paso and the bitch told him where you were the moment you stepped out of El Paso. He didn't break his promise technically, but it's still a very bitch move for him to pull. You're going to have a lengthy conversation with him later.

“So you’ve been in El Paso?” he asks.

You nod.

“My grandparents’ place.”

He nods.

“Sorry about Julio, by the way.”

You sigh. God, you want to cry.

It's truly unfair how God decided to take away Julio [Last Name]. Death should happen to assholes and shitty people. To people who abuse their children every day. To people who waste years of their lifespan on nicotine and alcohol. To people who kill people. Death shouldn't happen to heroes, who risk every single day of their lives to save other people. Death shouldn't happen to Julio [Last Name], a firefighter who died saving a kid in a burning building. At least, not this early. Not until you fulfilled his dream for him.

(His last words: I don't regret doing what I did. I have kids, too. I want someone to save them the same way I did that kid if they ever get stuck in a situation like this.)

“Did Leo tell you that, too?” you hope that he didn't notice that your voice slightly wobbled.

“No,” Max shakes his head. “We—Logan and I came to Vista Del Pueblo in December. Your neighbor told us that…”

He doesn't need to finish his sentence for you to know what he’s trying to say.

You nod, “So that's why there was an article that day…”

You remember Damiano showing you the news article in his phone—AN UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP: MAX VERSTAPPEN OF RED BULL RACING AND LOGAN SARGEANT OF WILLIAMS RACING SPOTTED DRIVING AROUND AUSTIN. You shrugged it off at that time.

“How are you?”

You turn to Max, raising a brow at his question.

“How am I?” you echo, sounding a little bewildered.

You see, Max has never asked this question. You're used to “Are you okay?” but not this. Not this question. You can easily lie to an are-you-okay. You can say yes even if you’re not, and you won't give yourself away because you only uttered one word. But with how-are-you, it’s different. It's not a question that is not answerable by yes or no. You actually have to explain how you feel. That's why Papa Julio only asked, “How are you, mija?” rather than “Are you okay, mija?” Papa Julio wants to know how your day went even if you're okay or not.

Yeah. You're definitely going to cry at this rate.

“How have you been after Julio?”

“You really wanna know?”

“I wanted to be there for you at that time,” Max confesses. “When I learned that Julio was gone, I wanted to go to you. But Leo stopped me. He said I was not what you needed at that time and I agree. I was too angry at you for leaving me. I’m glad he didn't tell me where you are, despite how painful it was. I was selfish and immature that I cared about my grief and forgot to consider yours. I reflected on my actions a lot. I am not sure how different I am now from that version of me but I think I changed a bit. So yes, [Name], I want to know, because I want to know how you felt and help you in any way I can.”

You stand there, stunned at what Max has said. And perhaps it was his sincerity or the way his determined blue eyes stare into your soul that caused the sixth domino to tip. You break into tears, a raw cry escaping your mouth. You are so fucking tired of carrying everything on your shoulders.

Max is quick to engulf you in a hug and you don't hesitate to pull him into you, pressing your face against his shoulders as you let everything out. You claw his back as if you're trying to mold himself into you. Your nose turns red, snot drips out of your nose. You sob too loud and too heavily that you can hardly draw a breath. You don't cry pretty and this is the first time you allowed yourself to cry with another person bearing witness to your fragility.

When you calmed down, you found yourself sitting beside Max, shoulder to shoulder, in the backseat of his car, playing with the drawstrings of your jacket.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“Sorry, I was just so tired,” you tip your head upwards. You can feel Max’s eyes on you. “Things have been hard since Papa died.”

“Do you want to talk? I’ll listen.”

You chuckle humorlessly.

Jesus, what did Leo feed this guy?

It feels like the roles are reversed now.

“Everybody's been takin’ it pretty hard so I'm trynna to be strong for them, you know? But I’m not that strong,” you begin. “I’m just as lost as everyone else and it's hard pretendin’ like I’m not. I’m not really sure what will happen with my life now so I wander around and do car repairs for a few folks in El Paso.”

“What happened to your dream? The job?”

“Well, it's gone,” you say, making Max’s eyes widen. “Not my time yet, I suppose. Or rather, I’m never supposed to have time. I guess I’m just not meant to be an engineer.”

“No,” Max turns to you, clasping your hands in desperation. “No, no, no. You always wanted to become an engineer. You can't just—I’ll think of something. I’ll ask Christian. I’ll ask the other teams. Renault isn't in Formula One right now but I can—”

“Max,” you smile sadly. “Let it go.”

“But—”

“Do you know what my Papa’s dream was?” you interrupt. “It’s to be a Formula One racer.”

You smile, remembering all the times you’ve seen your father watch the races on the television since you were younger. He’d wake up even in the ass crack of dawn just to watch them live. He’d be so tired after a 24-hour shift at the fire station but he’d refuse to even catch a wink of sleep until the Grand Prix broadcast is done. He always received a beating from your Mama because of it.

“He saw Senna in the newspaper and decided that he wanted to be like him, too. Sadly, Papa never vibed with a steering wheel so there was no future in that industry. He's always so disappointed in himself, sayin’ he can do the most unhinge shit at work but can't even drive a car. When Damiano and I turned five, he brought us karting. I could tell he was disappointed that Damiano didn't share his love for racing and I hated seein’ him sad so I learned to love karting. He signed me up and I did my best to win. I think I was good. Good enough to make him proud of me. Papa looked so happy when I won my first trophy. He cleaned it every week.”

You smile fondly at the memory.

“Then, shit happened and I have to stop. Papa looked even more disappointed than me that I had to stop. It hurts. Disappointment from your parents, I mean, even if I know that it's somethin’ beyond my control. I figured that if I can't be a racer, I’ll work in a pit stop. That's close enough. When I told him that I got accepted into USC and how I wanted to be an engineer, it was the proudest I have ever seen him since I won my trophy. I was livin’ his dream. I applied for Red Bull and Renault because those are Papa’s favorite teams and the rest is history.”

You pause.

“He’s never got to see me become an engineer,” you choke out, wiping the stray tear that fell from your eye with the back of your hand. “It was his dream. He always had his dreams broken and I was gonna reach his dreams for him but he’s gone before I can do so. Now, I’m so lost because I realized that I was shapin’ myself to become an extension of Papa and now that he's gone, I am an extension of no one. I was reaching for dreams that I don't own. I’m so tired and I’m so lost, Max.”

Max stares at you sadly.

“I should have talked to Christian sooner. Fuck, I hate myself for not talking to Christian. Fuck, why was I so selfish?” he presses the ball of his palms against his eyes in frustration. You chuckle, shaking your head.

“That’s okay,” you say. “I’ll find my way.”

You look at the scenery outside of the window. Night has fallen. You should have left for El Paso by now.

“I need to go,” you say, heart heavy.

“So soon?”

Max is panicking again.

“Jesus, Champ, calm down,” you pat his shoulders.

“Will I see you again?” Desperation laces his question.

“Dunno really,” you shrug.

“Can you wait for me?”

Your brows furrow.

“I’ll retire by 2028. No, that's still long. 2027. Ah no—2026? Can you wait for me? I—” Max’s hand trembles. “I love you. I love you, [Name]. I—I love you even before Kelly. I can’t. I can't lose you.”

The world stops.

“I am stupid, I am selfish, and I think I’m asking too much. If you can just wait for me, I’ll—I can even retire next year if you think it's too long—”

“Hold up right there, Champ,” you stop him. “You're not retirin’ early.”

“If you want me to, I will.”

You sigh in exasperation.

“Max,” your voice is low. “That’s your career. I’m not gonna—Jesus, Max don’t retire, okay? Not even for me. Retire only when you want to.”

This man is just…

You don't know if you want to choke him or kiss him.

“I want you to have me, [Name]. I… I want to be with you, to love you, and if retiring is the only way I can do that then I will,” he says. “I love you.”

You purse your lips.

“I love you, too, Max,” you confess and now, your chest feels lighter now that you've said it out loud. “But not now, I can't love you like this. I’m too… I can't pursue a relationship with you right now. Not when…”

“It's not our time,” Max nods. “I understand.”

He really did change.

“I want to find my way through life first," you tell him.

Max smiles and he pulls you again in a hug. He has tears in his eyes again and he sniffles, chuckling at himself for crying again. He pulls away from the hug slowly and hands you your keys.

“See you around?"

“See you around.”

You exit the car and you notice that your heart feels lighter now compared to the time you left Monaco even though you are doing the same exact thing—leaving Max to go home.

At the end of 2023, you grace the paddock with your presence—your signature YSL heels is back on the tracks. You wear pants now, instead of the corporate pencil skirts, matched with a Prema Racing polo shirt. The label at the back indicates: AERODYNAMIC ENGINEER. By the end of 2024, you are promoted to the strategy team. By 2025, you become a race engineer of an up-and-coming racing superstar and you kept the job position until now.

The world didn't end just because your Dad died. It took you a while to realize that your Papa didn't own your dreams. It was always yours to begin with. He just played a part in inspiring them.

Max Verstappen became the 2024, 2025, 2026, 2027, and 2028 WDC, marking history as an eight-time consecutive champion. He retired after the 2028 season and disappeared from the face of the Earth. He had stopped going home to his penthouse in Monaco, had put his private jet on sale, and had cut ties to his father, Jos, who was very disappointed that his son had retired too early in the sport. Max retired willingly—he had achieved more awards than most of his seniors and it's time to give room to the younger ones. Rumors say that he had established a racing program somewhere in Belgium. Charles Leclerc, Max's friend, refuses to update the media regarding Max's whereabouts and only says: "He's happy. Don't worry."

Years later, a thirteen-almost-fourteen year-old girl named Emiliana Julia Verstappen, racing under the American flag, become the youngest driver in history to join the ranks of the F1 academy and later, she becomes the youngest driver to ever drive a Formula One car, racing for Scuderia Ferrari as second driver, at only seventeen and a hundred and fifty days old, overthrowing Max Emilian Verstappen, retired eight-time F1 WDC, whom the world has not seen since his retirement, from the list.

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