#Old Flames Can’t Hold a Candle to You

[pucksandpower]

Little Star

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Summary: you’ve grown used to being overshadowed by your older brother, merely a distant star that seems dull in comparison to the sun of Maranello … and then Max happens

Based on this request

The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the paddock of the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. The air still buzzes with excitement from the day’s race, but behind the Ferrari hospitality unit, a different energy permeates the air.

You lean against the cool metal wall, sliding down until you’re sitting on the concrete, knees pulled to your chest. Tears stream silently down your face as you struggle to catch your breath between sobs. The sounds of celebration echo in the distance, a stark contrast to your solitude.

Footsteps approach, and you hastily wipe at your eyes, hoping to erase any evidence of your breakdown. A familiar figure rounds the corner, stopping short when he spots you.

“Hey,” Max Verstappen says, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you alright?”

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you insist, your voice wavering slightly. “Just ... needed some air.”

Max doesn’t buy it for a second. He crouches down beside you, his blue eyes searching your face. “You don’t look fine,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lip, debating whether to confide in him. After a moment, you sigh. “It’s stupid,” you mumble.

“If it’s making you cry, it’s not stupid,” Max counters. He settles down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Come on, talk to me.”

You take a shaky breath. “It’s my birthday,” you admit quietly.

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Today? Why aren’t you celebrating?”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Because everyone forgot,” you explain, fresh tears welling up. “Charles won the race, and ... I’m happy for him, I really am. But it’s like I don’t even exist when he’s around, you know?”

Max nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “That must be really tough,” he says softly.

You nod, sniffling. “I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, but today ... it just hit me harder, I guess. Even my mom forgot.”

“That’s not okay,” Max says firmly. “Your birthday should be special, no matter what else is happening.”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your jeans. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“No, it’s not fine,” Max insists. He stands up suddenly, determination etched on his face. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Before you can protest, he’s gone, jogging away towards the paddock. You’re left alone again, wondering what he’s up to.

True to his word, Max returns a few minutes later, slightly out of breath and holding something behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he instructs with a grin.

Curious, you comply. There’s a rustling sound, and then Max’s voice rings out, clear and slightly off-key: “Happy birthday to you ...”

Your eyes fly open in surprise. Max stands before you, holding a small cupcake with a single candle stuck in the frosting. His face is illuminated by the flickering flame as he continues to sing.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Y/N, happy birthday to you!”

Emotion wells up in your chest, a lump forming in your throat. “Max,” you whisper, overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He crouches down, carefully balancing the cupcake. “Of course I did,” he says softly. “Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. Now make a wish and blow out your candle.”

You close your eyes, thinking for a moment before leaning forward to extinguish the tiny flame. When you open them again, Max is beaming at you.

“What did you wish for?” He asks, settling back down beside you and offering you the cupcake.

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

Max laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Fair enough. So, twenty-two, huh? How does it feel to be so old?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help chuckling. “Says the guy who’s practically ancient at twenty-six.”

“Hey!” Max protests, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m in my prime.”

The banter feels natural, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time all day. You take a bite of the cupcake, savoring the sweetness. “This is really good,” you mumble around a mouthful of frosting. “Where did you even find it?”

Max grins mischievously. “I have my sources. Can’t reveal all my secrets, can I?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Thank you, Max. Really. This ... it means a lot.”

His expression softens. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry the rest of your family forgot. That’s not fair to you.”

You sigh, your momentary happiness fading slightly. “It’s not their fault. Charles had a big win today, and-”

“Stop,” Max interrupts gently. “You don’t have to make excuses for them. Your feelings are valid.”

You blink, surprised by his directness. “I ... I guess I’m just used to it,” you admit. “It’s always been about Charles. Even before he got into F1, he was the golden child. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes ...”

“Sometimes you want to be seen too,” Max finishes for you. You nod, grateful that he understands.

“Exactly. And it’s not just Charles. Arthur’s always been following in his footsteps, and Lorenzo ... well, he’s the oldest. I’m just ... there.”

Max frowns. “That’s not true. You’re your own person, with your own talents and dreams. Have you talked to them about how you feel?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to make them feel bad. Especially Charles. He works so hard, and he deserves his success.”

“His success doesn’t diminish your worth,” Max says firmly. “You deserve to be celebrated too.”

Tears prick at your eyes again, but for a different reason this time. “Thank you,” you whisper. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite like that before.”

Max smiles softly. “Well, it’s true. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks. “You barely know me,” you point out.

“I know enough,” Max counters. “I know you’re kind enough to put your family’s happiness before your own. I know you’re strong enough to handle being overlooked without becoming bitter. And I know you’ve got a great taste in cupcakes.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “Well, when you put it like that ...”

Max grins, clearly pleased to have made you smile. “So, birthday girl, what do you want to do now? The night is young, and I happen to know where they keep the good champagne around here.”

You hesitate, glancing towards the paddock where you can still hear the sounds of celebration. “I don’t know ... I should probably go find my family.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “On your birthday? Come on, live a little. They can wait.”

A spark of rebellion ignites in your chest. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it.”

Max jumps to his feet, offering you his hand. “That’s the spirit! First stop, champagne. Then, who knows? Maybe we’ll steal a golf cart and go joyriding around the track.”

You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Is that even allowed?”

Max’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Probably not. But it’s your birthday, so I think we can bend the rules a little.”

As you follow Max towards the paddock, a warmth spreads through your chest that has nothing to do with the lingering summer heat. For the first time in years, you feel seen. Appreciated. Special.

“Hey, Max?” You say, causing him to pause and look back at you.

“Yeah?”

You smile, genuine and bright. “Thank you. For everything.”

Max’s expression softens. “Anytime,” he says softly. “Now come on, birthday girl. Let’s make this a night to remember.”

As you walk side by side into the fading light, you can’t help but feel that this birthday might just be the start of something new. Something exciting. Something uniquely yours.

And for once, you’re not thinking about Charles, or Arthur, or anyone else. You’re just thinking about you, and the possibilities that stretch out before you like an open road.

Happy birthday indeed.

***

The Ferrari hospitality suite thrums with energy, laughter and music spilling out into the warm Italian night. Charles Leclerc stands at the center of it all, a wide grin plastered across his face as he basks in the glow of his hard-fought victory. Champagne flows freely, and the air is thick with the scent of celebration.

“To Charles!” Someone shouts, raising a glass. The room erupts in cheers, and Charles feels a swell of pride in his chest.

“Speech! Speech!” The crowd chants, and Charles laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, clearing his throat. “I just want to say thank you to everyone here. This win ... it’s not just mine. It’s ours. The team, the mechanics, the engineers, the strategists ... we did this together.”

More cheers erupt, and Charles feels a hand clap him on the back. He turns to see his teammate grinning broadly.

“Well said, amigo,” Carlos says, slinging an arm around Charles’ shoulders. “You drove like a champion today.”

Charles beams, the praise from his teammate adding to the euphoria of the moment. “Thanks, Carlos. Couldn’t have done it without you pushing me.”

Carlos laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “Always happy to provide motivation. Oh, hey, before I forget — can you pass on my birthday wishes to Y/N? I meant to find her earlier, but things got a bit crazy.”

The words hit Charles like a bucket of ice water. His smile freezes, his eyes widening in horror. “W-what?” He stammers, hoping he’s misheard.

Carlos frowns, noticing the sudden change in Charles’ demeanor. “Your sister? It’s her birthday today, right? Her 22nd?”

Charles feels the room spin around him. How could he have forgotten? His little sister’s birthday, on the same day as his big win. The realization crashes over him in waves of guilt and shame.

“Charles?” Carlos prompts, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, mate?”

Charles shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of shock. “I ... I forgot,” he whispers, more to himself than to Carlos. “How could I forget?”

Carlos’ eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, shit,” he mutters. “You didn’t remember?”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, panic rising in his chest. “I was so focused on the race, and then the win ... God, I’m such an idiot.”

He scans the room frantically, hoping against hope that he’ll spot you among the partygoers. But of course, you’re not there. Why would you be, when your own family forgot your birthday?

“I need to find her,” Charles says, already moving towards the exit. “I need to apologize.”

Carlos nods, squeezing Charles’ shoulder supportively. “Go. I’ll cover for you here if anyone asks.”

Charles barely hears him, his mind racing as he pushes through the crowd. He bursts out of the hospitality suite, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy interior.

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice echoing in the near-empty paddock. But there’s no response.

Panic rising, Charles pulls out his phone, fumbling with the screen as he opens his contacts. He hits your name, holding the phone to his ear as it rings.

Once. Twice. Three times. Then, your voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”

Charles swears under his breath, ending the call. He tries again, and again, but each time it goes straight to voicemail.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters, pacing back and forth. Where could you be? Who would you have gone to when your family let you down?

A thought strikes him, and he quickly dials another number.

“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.

“Arthur!” Charles practically shouts. “Is Y/N with you?”

There’s a pause, then confusion in Arthur’s tone. “No? Why would she be? Aren’t you guys celebrating?”

Charles feels his heart sink even further. “Arthur, it’s her birthday. We forgot.”

“Shit,” Arthur breathes. “How did we ... God, we’re terrible brothers.”

“I know, I know,” Charles says, the guilt eating away at him. “I’m trying to find her now. Can you call Maman and Lorenzo, see if they’ve heard from her?”

“Yeah, of course,” Arthur agrees quickly. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”

Charles ends the call, his mind whirling. Where else could you be? He tries to think back to earlier in the day, wondering if he’d seen you at all after the race. But everything is a blur of champagne and celebration, and he realizes with a sickening jolt that he can’t remember the last time he actually spoke to you.

He’s about to start knocking on motorhome doors when another idea strikes him. Quickly, he opens the Life360 app on his phone. The family had started using it a few years back, mainly to keep track of each other during race weekends.

Charles waits impatiently for the app to load, praying that it will show your location. But when the map finally appears, his heart sinks. Your icon is greyed out, with a message underneath: “Location permissions turned off.”

“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, refreshing the app desperately. But the result is the same. You’ve deliberately turned off your location tracking.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. You didn’t just disappear — you chose to be unfindable. And it’s all his fault.

Charles slumps against the nearest wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground. He puts his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his mistake.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers into the night. “I’m so, so sorry.”

As he sits there, memories flood his mind. Your proud smile when he won his first karting race. The way you’d curl up next to him during thunderstorms, seeking comfort. Your unwavering support through every step of his career, even when it meant less attention for you.

And how had he repaid that loyalty? By forgetting the one day that was supposed to be about you.

Charles’ phone buzzes, and he snatches it up eagerly. But it’s just a text from his mother:

Haven’t heard from Y/N. Is everything okay?

He stares at the message, unsure how to respond. How can he explain that he’s lost his little sister on her birthday?

Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:

No luck here either. What’s going on?

Charles takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He has to tell them the truth, no matter how much it hurts.

He creates a group chat with his mom, Lorenzo, and Arthur, his fingers shaking slightly as he types:

We forgot Y/N’s birthday. All of us. She’s not answering her phone and her location is turned off. I can’t find her anywhere.

The responses come in rapid succession:

Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?

Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?

Arthur: I’m on my way to the track now. We’ll find her.

Charles feels a mix of relief and shame. At least now everyone knows, and they can all work together to make things right. But the fact remains that they let you down in the first place.

He’s about to reply when he spots a familiar figure walking across the paddock. Max Verstappen, looking slightly disheveled and ... was that a touch of glitter on his cheek?

Without thinking, Charles jumps to his feet and runs over to his rival.

“Max!” He calls out, slightly out of breath. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Max turns, surprise evident on his face. Then, something else flickers in his eyes. Anger? Disappointment? It’s gone too quickly for Charles to be sure.

“Why?” Max asks, his tone cooler than usual. “Suddenly remembered she exists?”

The words sting, but Charles knows he deserves them. “Please, Max. I know I messed up. We all did. But I need to find her, to apologize.”

Max studies him for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he sighs. “She’s safe. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Relief washes over Charles, quickly followed by confusion. “You’ve seen her? Where is she?”

“I’m not telling you that,” Max says firmly. “She needed space, and after what happened, I don’t blame her.”

Charles feels a flare of frustration. “She’s my sister. I have a right to know where she is.”

“No,” Max counters, his blue eyes flashing. “You had a responsibility to remember her birthday. You didn’t. So now, you don’t get to demand anything.”

The words hit Charles like a slap. He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. Max is right, as much as it pains him to admit it.

“Is she ... is she okay?” Charles asks quietly, all fight leaving him.

Max’s expression softens slightly. “She will be. Eventually. But Charles, you really hurt her. All of you did.”

Charles nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I know. God, I know. I just want to make it right.”

“Then give her time,” Max advises. “And when she’s ready to talk, really listen to her. Don’t make excuses. Don’t try to justify it. Just listen.”

Charles nods again, feeling utterly defeated. “Will you ... will you tell her I’m sorry? That we’re all sorry?”

Max hesitates, then nods. “I will. But Charles? You need to do better. She deserves better.”

With that, Max turns and walks away, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and regrets.

Charles pulls out his phone again, looking at the group chat with his family. He types out a message, his heart heavy:

Y/N is safe. A friend is looking out for her. We need to give her space, but when she’s ready to talk, we all need to be there. Really be there. We’ve got a lot to make up for.

As he hits send, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll do better. He’ll be the brother you deserve. And somehow, someway, he’ll make this right.

But for now, all he can do is wait, and hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive them all.

***

The city lights twinkle below as Max leads you into his penthouse suite, the door clicking shut behind you. The space is modern and sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of Milan’s skyline.

“Make yourself at home,” Max says, gesturing around the room. “Are you hungry? I can order some room service if you want.”

You shake your head, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by the events of the day. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Max nods, studying your face with concern. “You sure? It’s been a long day.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that again.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Max clears his throat. “So, um, you can take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

“Oh, no,” you protest immediately. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Absolutely not. It’s your birthday. You get the bed.”

You bite your lip, an idea forming. “We could ... share? I mean, if that’s okay with you. The bed looks plenty big enough.”

Max’s eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure,” you say, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Unless it makes you uncomfortable?”

“No, no,” Max says quickly. “I’m fine with it if you are.”

You nod, and another silence falls. Max runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly unsure of himself.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he suggests. “Or we could just talk, if you prefer.”

“Talking sounds nice,” you admit. “I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”

Max nods, gesturing towards the bed. “Shall we?”

You both settle onto the massive king-size bed, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. It’s oddly intimate, and you feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“So,” Max begins, his blue eyes fixed on you. “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t related to racing or your family.”

You pause, caught off guard by the question. It’s been so long since someone asked about you, just you.

“Well,” you start hesitantly, “I’m actually studying to become an astrophysicist.”

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? That’s incredible! Why astrophysics?”

The enthusiasm in his voice makes you smile. “I’ve always been fascinated by space, you know? The idea that there’s so much out there we don’t understand ... it’s exciting.”

“That’s amazing,” Max says, genuinely impressed. “What kind of stuff are you studying right now?”

You laugh softly. “Are you sure you want to know? I might bore you with all the technical details.”

Max leans forward, his expression earnest. “Try me. I want to hear all about it.”

Encouraged by his interest, you begin to explain your current research project. As you talk, your hands move animatedly, your eyes lighting up with passion. Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.

“... and that’s why understanding dark matter is so crucial,” you finish, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I kind of went off on a tangent there.”

Max shakes his head, smiling warmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s fascinating. I had no idea you were into all this. Why haven’t I heard about it before?”

Your smile falters slightly. “Oh, well ... it doesn’t really come up much. Everyone’s usually more interested in talking about racing.”

Max frowns. “But this is incredible. You’re studying to unravel the mysteries of the universe. That’s way cooler than driving in circles.”

You laugh, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Try telling that to my family. I think they see it as more of a hobby than a career path.”

“What?” Max looks genuinely shocked. “How can they not be incredibly proud? This is huge!”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “I guess it’s just not as exciting as F1? It’s okay, though. I’m used to it.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No, it’s not okay. Y/N, you’re brilliant. Your family should be shouting it from the rooftops.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them back hastily. “Thanks, Max. That ... that means a lot.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over yours. “I mean it. And for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is incredible.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there, an understanding that makes your heart skip a beat. Without really thinking about it, you shift closer to him.

Max seems to take this as an invitation, because he moves closer too. Soon, you’re sitting side by side, your shoulders touching.

“So,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “What about you? Any secret passions outside of racing?”

Max chuckles. “Nothing as impressive as astrophysics, I’m afraid. But I do enjoy sim racing in my spare time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that just more racing?”

“Hey, it’s completely different,” Max protests with a grin. “In sim racing, I can drive any car on any track. Even ones that don’t exist in real life.”

“Okay, okay,” you concede, laughing. “Tell me more about it.”

As Max launches into an explanation of his favorite sim racing setups, you find yourself relaxing more and more. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and playful debates.

Without really noticing, you both shift positions throughout the night. Max leans back against the headboard, and you mirror him. Your shoulders are pressed together, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“... and that’s why I think pineapple absolutely belongs on pizza,” Max finishes, looking at you expectantly.

You shake your head, grinning. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a world champion. Your taste buds clearly can’t be trusted.”

“Oh, come on,” Max laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“I have tried it,” you insist. “It’s an abomination.”

Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Y/N. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

The word ‘friends’ sends an odd pang through your chest. Is that what this is? It feels like more, somehow.

As if reading your thoughts, Max’s expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so gentle, so intimate, that it takes your breath away.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing. “Me too,” you whisper.

There’s a moment of charged silence, and then Max is leaning in. You meet him halfway, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.

It’s brief, just a fleeting press of lips, but it sends sparks shooting through your entire body. When you pull back, Max is looking at you with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.

“Was that okay?” He asks, his voice husky.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Instead, you lean in again, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more assured. Max’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you melt into his touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he admits.

You laugh softly. “Even when I was insulting your pizza preferences?”

“Especially then,” Max grins. “You’re cute when you’re indignant.”

You swat at his arm playfully, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. For the first time all day, you feel truly happy.

As the night wears on, you and Max continue to talk, trading stories and stealing kisses. Gradually, your positions shift again. Max lies down, and you curl up against his side, your head resting on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you close.

“Y/N?” Max says softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

“Hmm?” you mumble, feeling drowsy and content.

“Happy birthday,” he says. “I know it didn’t start out great, but I hope it got better.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “It did,” you assure him. “Thanks to you.”

Max kisses your forehead gently. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We can figure everything else out in the morning.”

As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in Max’s arms, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this birthday wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, it might just be the start of something wonderful.

***

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you feel a strong arm wrapped around your waist. For a moment, confusion sets in before the events of the previous night come rushing back.

You’re in Max Verstappen’s bed. And Max Verstappen is currently spooning you.

A smile tugs at your lips as you nestle back into his warmth, not quite ready to face the day. But fate, it seems, has other plans.

A sharp knock at the door jolts both of you awake. Max groans, burying his face in your hair.

“Room service?” You mumble, still half-asleep.

Max shakes his head, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Didn’t order any.”

The knock comes again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, Max untangles himself from you and slides out of bed.

“I’ll get it,” he says, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You stay here.”

You nod, pulling the covers up to your chin and watching as Max pads to the door in his t-shirt and sweatpants. He opens it a crack, peering out.

“Can I help you?” He asks, confusion evident in his tone.

There’s a muffled response, and then Max is stepping back, opening the door wider. A hotel staff member enters, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses.

“Delivery for Y/N Leclerc,” the staff member announces, looking around the room.

You sit up in bed, eyes wide. “That’s ... that’s me.”

The staff member nods, moving to set the bouquet on a nearby table. “Sign here, please,” he says, holding out a clipboard.

Still bewildered, you climb out of bed and make your way over, scrawling your signature on the form. The staff member thanks you and exits, leaving you and Max staring at the ostentatious display of flowers.

“Well,” Max says after a moment, “I guess your brother remembered after all.”

You let out a rueful laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I guess he did.”

Max frowns, noting the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “Aren’t you happy about it?”

You sigh, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals. “It’s just ... I’ve told Charles a hundred times that I don’t like roses. They’re not my favorite flower. But every time he needs to apologize or wants to do something nice, it’s always roses.”

“Oh,” Max says softly, understanding dawning on his face. “So it’s less about you and more about what he thinks you should like.”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Exactly. It’s like he doesn’t really listen, you know? He just does what he thinks is right without considering what I actually want.”

Max moves closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. “That must be frustrating,” he says gently.

You lean into him, grateful for the support. “It is. And I know I should be grateful. It’s a beautiful bouquet, and he’s trying. But ...”

“But it’s not what you want,” Max finishes for you. “And that matters.”

You look up at him, surprised by how well he understands. “Yeah, exactly.”

Max turns to face you fully, his blue eyes serious. “Y/N, listen to me. It’s okay to be upset about this. It’s okay to want your family to actually listen to you and consider your feelings.”

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill over. “But they’re trying now. Shouldn’t I just forgive them and move on?”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No. You don’t have to forgive them right away just because they made a grand gesture. It’s okay to make them work for your forgiveness.”

“Really?” You ask, your voice small.

“Really,” Max assures you. “They hurt you, Y/N. They forgot your birthday and made you feel invisible. One bouquet of flowers — flowers you don’t even like — doesn’t erase that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words. “So what do I do?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Well, what do you want to do? How do you feel?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not ready to see them yet. I know I’ll have to face them eventually, but right now ... I just can’t.”

“Then don’t,” Max says simply. “Take the time you need. They can wait.”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his words. “You don’t think that’s selfish?”

Max cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. “It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”

Tears spill over then, and Max pulls you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in his chest, letting out all the hurt and frustration you’ve been holding in.

“Shh,” Max soothes, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

After a few minutes, your sobs subside. You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I got your shirt all wet.”

Max chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think I’ll survive. Feel better?”

You nod, offering him a watery smile. “Yeah, actually. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Max says softly. Then, a mischievous glint enters his eye. “So, what should we do with the roses? I vote we throw them off the balcony and watch them scatter in the wind.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “As tempting as that is, I don’t think hotel management would appreciate it.”

Max shrugs, grinning. “Their loss. We could always donate them to a hospital or something. Brighten someone else’s day.”

“That’s ... actually a really good idea,” you say, impressed. “We could do that.”

Max beams, clearly pleased with himself. “See? I’m not just a pretty face and fast driver.”

You roll your eyes fondly, but can’t suppress your smile. “Careful, Verstappen. Your ego’s showing.”

“You love it,” he teases, pulling you close again.

As you stand there in his arms, surrounded by the cloying scent of roses you don’t even like, you’re struck by how safe you feel. How understood.

“Max?” You say softly.

“Hmm?”

You pull back slightly to meet his gaze. “Thank you. For everything. For making my birthday special, for listening to me, for ... just being here.”

Max’s expression softens, a tender smile playing at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I ... I care about you, Y/N. A lot.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I care about you too,” you admit.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Then, slowly, Max leans in. His lips meet yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your toes curl.

When you break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

“So,” he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What happens now?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not sure. This is all happening so fast, and with everything going on with my family ...”

Max nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow,” he assures you. “There’s no rush.”

Relief washes over you. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I do want this — us. I just need some time to figure everything out.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Max says, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “For now, how about we get some breakfast? I’m starving.”

You laugh, grateful for the shift in mood. “Breakfast sounds perfect. But maybe we should change first? I’m not sure I want to face the paparazzi in yesterday’s clothes.”

Max grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t know, I think you look pretty good in my t-shirt.”

You glance down, realizing for the first time that you’re indeed wearing one of Max’s shirts. A blush creeps up your cheeks. “When did that happen?”

“You got cold in the middle of the night,” Max explains, looking far too pleased with himself. “I offered you my shirt. You were very insistent that it was the most comfortable thing you’d ever worn.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god. Please tell me I didn’t say anything else embarrassing.”

Max laughs, gently prying your hands away from your face. “Nothing too bad. Though you did mention something about my waist being ‘unfairly perfect’. Your words, not mine.”

“Kill me now,” you mutter, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

Max pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Never. I’m rather fond of you, embarrassing sleep talk and all.”

As you stand there in Max’s arms, the morning sun warming your skin and the scent of roses filling the air, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope. Yes, there’s still a lot to figure out — with your family, with Max, with your future. But for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And that, you think, is the best birthday gift of all.

***

The private terminal of Milan Malpensa Airport buzzes with activity as the Leclerc family waits to board their chartered jet. Charles paces back and forth, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, eyes darting to the entrance every few seconds.

“Charles, honey, please sit down,” his mother, Pascale, says gently. “You’re making me nervous.”

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair for what must be the hundredth time. “I can’t, Maman. Where is she? She should be here by now.”

Lorenzo exchanges a worried glance with Arthur. “Maybe she got held up in traffic?” He suggests, though his tone lacks conviction.

“For three hours?” Charles snaps, immediately regretting his harsh tone. “Sorry, I just ... I’m worried.”

Arthur stands up, placing a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder. “We all are. But Y/N’s an adult. She can take care of herself.”

Charles lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know that. But after yesterday ... we really messed up.”

“We did,” Pascale agrees softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But we’ll make it right. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she ever shows up,” Charles mutters, resuming his pacing.

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow. Charles alternates between checking his phone and staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of you arriving. But the parking lot remains stubbornly devoid of your presence.

Finally, a staff member approaches the family. “Mr. Leclerc? The jet is ready for boarding. We need to depart soon to maintain our flight slot.”

Charles feels panic rising in his chest. “No, we can’t leave yet. My sister isn’t here.”

The staff member looks uncomfortable. “I understand, sir, but we have a schedule to keep. Perhaps your sister could take a commercial flight?”

“Absolutely not,” Charles says firmly. “We’re not leaving without her.”

Lorenzo steps in, ever the diplomat. “Is there any way we could delay for just a bit longer? It’s really important that we wait for our sister.”

The staff member hesitates, then nods. “I’ll see what I can do. But please understand, we can’t hold the slot indefinitely.”

As the employee walks away, Charles resumes his pacing with renewed vigor.

“This isn’t like her,” he mutters. “She wouldn’t just disappear without telling us.”

Arthur bites his lip, looking guilty. “Maybe ... maybe she’s still upset about yesterday?”

Charles stops in his tracks, turning to face his younger brother. “What do you mean?”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably. “Well, we did forget her birthday. And then when we remembered, we didn’t exactly handle it well. Those roses you sent? Y/N hates roses.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She ... what? No, she loves roses. I always get her roses.”

“Because you always get her roses,” Lorenzo chimes in, realization dawning on his face. “Not because she actually likes them.”

Charles slumps into a nearby chair, head in his hands. “How did I not know that? What kind of brother am I?”

Pascale moves to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve all made mistakes. But we can fix this. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she’ll even talk to us,” Charles mumbles.

Just then, his phone buzzes. Charles nearly drops it in his haste to check the notification, hope flaring in his chest. But it’s not from you.

“It’s Max,” he says, frowning in confusion.

“Verstappen?” Arthur asks, leaning over to peek at the screen. “What does he want?”

Charles opens the message, his eyes widening as he reads it aloud:

“Y/N is with me. She’s safe and we’re flying back to Monaco together. She needs some space right now. Give her time.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Charles reads and rereads the message, trying to process what it means.

“She’s with Max?” Lorenzo finally says, breaking the silence. “Since when are they even friends?”

Charles shakes his head, still staring at his phone. “I don’t know. I ... I saw him last night. He knew where she was, but I thought it was just a spontaneous thing.”

“Well, at least we know she’s safe,” Pascale says, always trying to find the silver lining. “That’s the most important thing.”

But Charles can’t shake the feeling of unease settling in his stomach. “Why didn’t she come to us? Why Max, of all people?”

Arthur places a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.

The words hit Charles like a physical blow. He knows Arthur is right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

“So what do we do now?” Lorenzo asks, looking around at his family.

Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. “We do what Max said. We give her time.”

“But for how long?” Pascale asks, worry evident in her voice. “She’s our little girl. We can’t just leave her alone.”

“She’s not alone, Maman,” Charles says, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “She’s with Max. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I think ... I think she might be better off with him right now.”

The family falls silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their collective mistake hangs heavy in the air.

Finally, Charles stands up, squaring his shoulders. “We should board the jet. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

As they gather their belongings and make their way to the plane, Charles can’t help but replay Max’s message in his head. You’re with Max. You’re safe. You need space.

He tries to imagine you and Max together, and finds that he can’t. What could have happened in the span of one day to bring you two together? And more importantly, what had driven you away from your own family?

As he settles into his seat on the jet, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll give you the space you need, but he won’t give up. He’ll find a way to make things right, to be the brother you deserve.

The jet takes off, carrying the Leclerc family back to Monaco. But for Charles, it feels like they’re leaving a piece of themselves behind in Milan. A piece that, he fears, might be harder to reclaim than he ever imagined.

Meanwhile, across the airport, you and Max are boarding his private jet. The contrast between the two scenes couldn’t be more stark.

“You okay?” Max asks softly as you settle into your seat.

You nod, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for ... well, everything.”

Max reaches over, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime. You know that.”

As the jet prepares for takeoff, you can’t help but think about your family. Are they worried? Angry? Do they even care?

“Max?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

You turn to look at him, vulnerability shining in your eyes. “Did I do the right thing? Leaving without talking to them?”

Max considers your question carefully before answering. “I think you did what you needed to do for yourself. And that’s never wrong.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension in your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “For understanding. For not pushing me to do what everyone else thinks I should do.”

Max smiles, a soft, genuine expression that makes your heart flutter. “That’s what ... friends are for, right?”

There’s a hesitation in his voice, a question in his eyes that makes you wonder if ‘friends’ is really the right word for what’s developing between you.

As the jet takes off, carrying you away from Milan and the chaos of the past day, you find yourself feeling something you haven’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for a future where you’re seen, heard, and valued for who you are.

And as you glance at Max, his profile illuminated by the setting sun streaming through the window, you can’t help but wonder if he might be a bigger part of that future than you ever imagined.

The jet climbs higher, leaving the ground and all its complications behind. For now, at least, you’re free. Free to breathe, to think, to feel without the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

You close your eyes, letting out a long breath. Whatever comes next, you know one thing for certain: things will never be the same again. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.

***

The sun is setting over Monaco, shining warmly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse apartment. You’re curled up on the plush sofa, a book in your lap, trying to lose yourself in the pages. But your mind keeps wandering, replaying the events of the past couple of days.

Max emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. “Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.

You smile gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma of hot chocolate. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, settling down beside you. “I wanted to. How’re you holding up?”

You’re about to answer when the doorbell rings. Max frowns, glancing at his watch. “I’m not expecting anyone. Are you?”

You shake your head, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. Could it be your family? Are they here to confront you?

Max squeezes your hand reassuringly before getting up to answer the door. You hear muffled voices, then the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

“Um, Y/N?” Max calls. “I think you might want to see this.”

Curiosity overcoming your apprehension, you make your way to the foyer. Your jaw drops at the sight that greets you.

The entire space is filled with bags. Not just any bags, but the kind that comes from the most exclusive boutiques in Monaco. Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel — the logos stare back at you from every direction.

“What ... what is all this?” You stammer, looking to Max for explanation.

He hands you a small envelope. “This came with it. It’s addressed to you.”

With trembling fingers, you open the envelope and unfold the note inside. You’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.

Y/N,

I know I messed up. We all did. I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday and for not being the brother you deserve. I hope these gifts can begin to make up for it. Please come home. We miss you.

Love,

Charles

You read the note twice, then a third time, disbelief turning to anger with each pass.

“He’s got to be kidding,” you mutter, crumpling the paper in your fist.

Max steps closer, concern etched on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “This,” you say, gesturing at the sea of designer bags, “is my brother’s idea of an apology. He thinks he can just ... buy me back with expensive gifts.”

Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “Ah. And I’m guessing that’s not going to work?”

“Not even close,” you say, shaking your head. “God, it’s like he doesn’t know me at all. I’m not one of his girlfriends who can be placated with a shopping spree.”

Max winces. “Ouch. Has he done this before?”

You nod, sinking down onto the nearest clear spot on the floor. “Every time he messes up with a girl, it’s the same routine. Flowers, jewelry, designer clothes. And it usually works, because the girls he dates ... well, they tend to be into that kind of thing.”

Max sits down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “But you’re not.”

“No,” you confirm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate nice things. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about him actually listening to me, actually seeing me as a person and not just ... his kid sister who can be bought off.”

Max is quiet for a moment, then says softly, “You know, it’s okay to be angry about this. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

His words break something open inside you. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. “I just ... I thought he knew me better than this. I thought they all did.”

Max wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You lean into him, letting the tears fall freely now.

“It’s like they don’t even see me,” you choke out between sobs. “They see this idea of who they think I should be, but not ... not who I actually am.”

Max rubs soothing circles on your back, letting you cry it out. When your sobs finally subside, he hands you a tissue.

“Feel better?” He asks gently.

You nod, wiping your eyes. “A little. Sorry for breaking down on you like that.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Don’t apologize. That’s what I’m here for.”

You offer him a watery smile, then turn back to survey the mountain of bags. “So ... what do I do with all this?”

Max considers for a moment. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You bite your lip, thinking. “Honestly? I want to send it all back. Show him that he can’t just throw money at the problem and expect it to go away.”

Max nods approvingly. “I think that’s a great idea. It sends a clear message.”

“You don’t think it’s too harsh?” You ask, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

“Not at all,” Max assures you. “You’re standing up for yourself, setting boundaries. That’s important.”

Emboldened by his support, you start rifling through the bags, curiosity getting the better of you. “I wonder what he even bought ... oh.”

You pull out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate tennis bracelet. The diamonds catch the light, sparkling brilliantly.

“Wow,” Max breathes, leaning in for a closer look. “That’s ... that’s something.”

You nod, mesmerized by the way the bracelet shimmers. “It’s beautiful,” you admit softly.

Max watches you carefully. “You like it,” he observes.

You sigh, closing the box with a snap. “It doesn’t matter. It’s going back with everything else.”

“Why?” Max asks, genuine curiosity in his voice. “If you like it, why not keep it?”

You look at him, surprised. “But ... I thought you said sending it all back was a good idea?”

Max shrugs. “It is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep one thing if it genuinely makes you happy. You’re allowed to like nice things, Y/N. That doesn’t invalidate your feelings about the situation.”

You turn the box over in your hands, considering. “I don’t know ... wouldn’t keeping anything send the wrong message?”

“I think,” Max says slowly, “that the message you send depends more on what you say than what you keep or don’t keep. If you like the bracelet, keep it. But make sure Charles understands that a pretty piece of jewelry doesn’t fix the underlying issues.”

You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”

As you start sorting through the bags, separating out what will be returned, you can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

You hold up the bracelet box. “I was just thinking ... it would be a shame to let something this pretty go to waste, right?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Absolutely. It’s practically your duty to keep it. For the sake of the bracelet, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree, giggling. “I’m being completely selfless here.”

As you continue to sort through the gifts, occasionally showing Max particularly outrageous items (“A fur coat? In Monaco?”), you feel a weight lifting from your shoulders. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, you feel like you’re taking control of the situation.

“You know,” you say, folding a designer dress back into its bag, “I think I need to have a real conversation with Charles. With all of them, really.”

Max nods encouragingly. “I think that’s a great idea. What do you want to say?”

You take a deep breath, organizing your thoughts. “I want them to understand that I’m my own person, with my own dreams and desires. That I need them to see me, really see me, not just as Charles Leclerc’s little sister or as an extension of the family name.”

“That sounds perfect,” Max says softly. “You deserve to be seen for who you are.”

You smile at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”

Max reaches out, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. But I’m glad I could help.”

As you sit there, surrounded by discarded luxury goods, your hand in Max’s, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. You know the road ahead won’t be easy — confronting your family, establishing new boundaries, figuring out exactly where you stand with Max — but for the first time in a long time, you feel ready to face it all.

You slip on the tennis bracelet, admiring the way it catches the light. It’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder that you’re worth more than grand gestures and expensive gifts. You’re worth being truly seen, truly heard, truly understood.

And as you look at Max, his blue eyes warm with understanding and something that might be more, you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.

***

The afternoon sun beats down on the streets of Monaco as Charles leans against his Ferrari, fidgeting nervously. He’s parked across from the International University of Monaco, his eyes fixed on the entrance. Students stream in and out, but none of them are the one he’s looking for.

He checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time. Your last class should be ending any minute now. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s rehearsed what he wants to say a thousand times, but now that the moment is approaching, all his carefully prepared words seem to evaporate.

A group of students emerges from the building, laughing and chatting. Charles straightens up, his eyes scanning the crowd. And then he sees you.

You’re walking with a couple of friends, your bag slung over your shoulder, a smile on your face. For a moment, Charles is struck by how ... normal you look. How at ease. It’s a stark contrast to the tense family dinners and stilted conversations of recent months.

Before he can second-guess himself, Charles pushes off from his car and starts walking towards you. He sees the exact moment you spot him — your smile falters, your steps slow.

“Y/N!” He calls out, waving awkwardly.

Your friends notice him too, their eyes widening in recognition. You say something to them that Charles can’t hear, and they nod, casting curious glances between you and your brother as they walk away.

Charles reaches you, stopping a few feet away, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Charles,” you reply, your voice carefully neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s never been able to shake. “I ... I wanted to talk to you. In person. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and I just ... I needed to see you.”

You sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I’ve been busy with classes. And I needed some space.”

“I know,” Charles says quickly. “I know, and I’m sorry for ambushing you like this. I just ... can we talk? Please?”

You glance around, noticing the curious stares from passing students. “Not here,” you say finally. “There’s a café around the corner. We can talk there.”

Charles nods eagerly, relief washing over him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

You lead the way to the café, a small, cozy place tucked away from the main streets. As you settle into a booth in the back, Charles can’t help but wonder how often you come here, how many parts of your life he knows nothing about.

A waitress approaches, and you order your usual — an iced latte with an extra shot. Charles fumbles with the menu before ordering a simple espresso.

An awkward silence falls over the table as you wait for your drinks. Charles fidgets with a napkin, trying to find the right words to begin.

“So,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”

Charles takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. For forgetting your birthday, for not being there for you, for ... for everything.”

You raise an eyebrow, your expression unreadable. “Is that it?”

Charles blinks, thrown off balance. “I ... what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “is that all you have to say? You’re sorry?”

Charles feels a flash of frustration. “What else do you want me to say? I messed up, I know that. I’m trying to make it right.”

The waitress returns with your drinks, and you take a long sip of your latte before responding. “Charles, this isn’t just about my birthday. This is about years of feeling invisible, of being overshadowed, of not being seen for who I am.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “What? Y/N, I ... I had no idea you felt that way.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s kind of the point, Charles. You didn’t know because you never asked. None of you did.”

Charles sits back, his mind reeling. “I ... I don’t understand. We’ve always been close. At least, I thought we were.”

“We were,” you agree softly. “When we were kids. But as you got more and more successful, it was like ... like I faded into the background. Everything became about you, about your career.”

Charles feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Y/N, I never meant for that to happen. I love you. You’re my little sister.”

“I know you love me,” you say, your voice gentler now. “But loving someone and seeing them are two different things.”

Charles nods slowly, realization dawning. “The gifts,” he says. “That’s why you sent them back. Because I was trying to fix things without actually understanding what was wrong.”

“Exactly,” you confirm. “Charles, I don’t need expensive clothes or jewelry. I need my brother. The one who used to listen to me ramble about constellations for hours, who’d sneak me extra dessert when Maman wasn’t looking.”

Charles reaches across the table, hesitating for a moment before taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “I want to be that brother again,” he says earnestly. “Tell me how. Please.”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Well, for starters, you could ask me about my life. My studies, my friends, my dreams. And actually listen to the answers.”

Charles nods eagerly. “Yes, of course. Tell me everything. What are you studying? How are your classes going?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m majoring in Astrophysics, remember? This semester I’m taking a course on Stellar Evolution that’s absolutely fascinating. We’re learning about the life cycles of stars, from their formation to their eventual death.”

As you continue talking, passion lighting up your eyes, Charles feels a mix of pride and shame wash over him. Pride in your intelligence and enthusiasm, shame that he’s missed out on so much of your life.

“That sounds incredible,” he says when you pause for breath. “I had no idea you were studying something so complex. You must be really good at it.”

You shrug, a hint of your old shyness creeping in. “I do okay. It’s challenging, but I love it.”

“I’m sure you do more than okay,” Charles insists. “You’ve always been the smartest one in the family.”

You laugh softly. “I don’t know about that. But ... thanks, Charles. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Charles squeezes your hand. “I mean it. And I want to hear more. About your classes, your friends, everything. I’ve missed so much, and I want to make up for it.”

You nod, a cautious hope in your eyes. “I’d like that. But Charles, it can’t just be today. This has to be a continuous thing. I need to know that you’re genuinely interested in my life, not just when you’re trying to make amends.”

“Absolutely,” Charles agrees immediately. “What if we set up a regular call? Once a week, we can catch up properly. No distractions, no racing talk unless you want to. Just us.”

A genuine smile spreads across your face. “I’d really like that.”

Charles feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. It’s not fixed, not completely, but it’s a start. “There’s something else,” he says, suddenly remembering. “Max ... are you and Max ...”

You blush slightly, looking down at your latte. “We’re ... figuring things out. He’s been really supportive through all of this.”

Charles nods, pushing down the instinctive surge of protectiveness. “He’s a good guy. If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

You look up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Really? You’re not going to go all overprotective big brother on me?”

Charles chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have my moments. But Y/N, you’re an adult. You can make your own choices. I trust you.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you. That ... that means more than you know.”

As you both finish your drinks, the conversation flows more easily. Charles asks about your friends, your hobbies outside of studying. You tell him about the astronomy club you’ve joined, the research project you’re hoping to get involved with next semester.

When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”

You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.

“I love you, little sister,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I promise, I’m going to do better.”

You squeeze him back. “I love you too, big brother. And ... I’m willing to give you the chance to prove it.”

As you part ways outside the café, Charles heading back to his car and you towards your apartment, there’s a lightness in the air that wasn’t there before. It’s not perfect, not yet. There are still conversations to be had, bridges to be rebuilt. But for the first time in a long time, there’s hope.

Charles watches you walk away, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Pride in the amazing person you’ve become, regret for the time he’s missed, determination to be the brother you deserve.

He pulls out his phone, creating a new reminder: Call Y/N — every Sunday, 7 PM.

It’s a small step, but it’s a start. And as he drives home, Charles finds himself looking forward to getting to know his little sister all over again.

***

The auditorium of the International University of Monaco buzzes with excitement as proud families and friends gather to celebrate the graduating class. In the front row, an unusually high-profile group draws curious glances and whispered conversations.

Charles fidgets in his seat, craning his neck to scan the sea of graduates. “Do you see her?” He asks, nudging his older brother.

Lorenzo chuckles, placing a calming hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Relax. She’ll be here. Alphabetical order, remember?”

On Charles’ other side, Arthur rolls his eyes fondly. “You’d think he was the one graduating, the way he’s acting.”

“Can you blame him?” Max chimes in from the end of the row, a warm smile on his face. “It’s a big day.”

Pascale, seated between Lorenzo and Arthur, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “My baby girl, graduating university. I can hardly believe it.”

Max reaches across to pat her hand. “She’s amazing, Pascale. You should be very proud.”

Charles turns to Max, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at you, all calm and collected. I remember when you were a nervous wreck asking her out for the first time.”

Max blushes slightly, but grins. “Hey, your sister is intimidating. All that brainpower.”

“Shh!” Arthur hisses suddenly. “I think it’s starting!”

The auditorium falls silent as the ceremony begins. The family watches with rapt attention as the graduates file in, searching for that familiar face among the sea of caps and gowns.

And then, there you are. Your eyes scan the crowd until they land on your family, a bright smile spreading across your face as you wave discreetly.

“There she is!” Charles whisper-shouts, practically bouncing in his seat.

Lorenzo chuckles. “We see her. Try to contain yourself, yeah?”

The ceremony progresses, with speeches from the valedictorian and various dignitaries. Charles fidgets impatiently, earning amused glances from his family and Max.

Finally, the moment arrives. “Y/N Leclerc,” the announcer calls.

Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.

Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.

You walk across the stage, accepting your diploma with a graceful nod. As you turn to face the audience, your eyes lock with your family’s, and your composed expression breaks into a radiant smile.

Charles, caught up in the moment, continues cheering even after you’ve left the stage. “That’s right! Astrophysicist in the house! Watch out, universe!”

Max, noticing the irritated glances from other families, reaches over and claps a hand over Charles’ mouth. “Okay, Charlie, I think she heard you,” he says, laughter in his voice.

Max feels something wet against his palm and jerks his hand away.

“Ugh, gross!” Max yelps, wiping it on his pants. “What are you, five?”

Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”

Pascale sighs, shaking her head. “Boys, please. This is Y/N’s big day. Try to act like adults.”

“Sorry, Maman,” Charles mumbles, properly chastised.

As the ceremony concludes, the family makes their way outside, eagerly scanning the crowd for you.

“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.

You’re making your way towards them, diploma in hand, your face glowing with happiness. Max reaches you first, sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Congratulations, liefje,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

You beam up at him, about to respond when Charles practically tackles you both.

“My sister, the genius!” He crows, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. “I always knew you’d take over the world someday.”

You laugh, hugging him back just as fiercely. “Put me down, you goof! You’re making a scene.”

“Let him have his moment,” Lorenzo says, stepping in for his own hug once Charles releases you. “It’s not every day your little sister graduates top of her class in Astrophysics.”

Arthur’s turn comes next, his hug gentler but no less heartfelt. “Congrats. You’ve officially made the rest of us look like underachievers.”

Finally, you turn to your mother, who’s openly crying now. “Oh, my darling,” she says, cupping your face in her hands. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

You feel tears welling up in your own eyes as you embrace her. “Thanks, Maman. For everything.”

As you pull back, wiping at your eyes, Charles slings an arm around your shoulders. “So, what’s next? Going to discover a new planet? Name a star after your favorite man?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “First of all, I still have to get through graduate school. And second, bold of you to assume you’re my favorite.”

“Ouch,” Charles clutches his chest in mock pain. “After all we’ve been through?”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Face it, Leclerc. I’ve got you beat in the favorite department.”

Charles narrows his eyes playfully. “Is that a challenge, Verstappen?”

“Boys, boys,” you interject, laughing. “There’s plenty of me to go around. Now, how about we get out of here? I’m starving, and I believe someone promised me a celebration dinner.”

“Ah, yes!” Pascale says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve made reservations at La Maree. Your favorite, chérie.”

As the family starts to move towards the parking lot, Max hangs back, tugging gently on your hand. “Hold on a sec,” he says softly. “I want to give you something.”

Curious, you turn to face him. Max reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.

Your eyes widen. “Max ...”

He opens the box, revealing a delicate necklace. A small white gold star pendant hangs from the chain, a tiny diamond twinkling at its center.

“I know it’s not much compared to your usual study subjects,” Max says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “But I thought ... well, you’re my star, Y/N. My brilliant, beautiful star.”

Tears well up in your eyes again as Max fastens the necklace around your neck. “It’s perfect,” you whisper. “I love it. I love you.”

Max’s face breaks into a radiant smile. “I love you too,” he says, before leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your waist. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.

The spell is broken by an exaggerated gagging sound. You break apart to see Charles pretending to retch, while Lorenzo and Arthur laugh.

You break apart, laughing. “Real mature, Charles,” you call back.

Charles grins, unrepentant. “Hey, someone’s got to keep an eye on you crazy kids.”

Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Your brother, the chaperone,” he mutters.

You giggle, taking Max’s hand as you rejoin your family. “Don’t worry,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’ll ditch him at the restaurant.”

As you all pile into the waiting cars, the air buzzing with excitement and plans for the evening, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness. A year ago, you never would have imagined this scene — your family truly seeing and celebrating you, a wonderful man by your side who loves and supports you, and a bright future ahead in a field you’re passionate about.

The cars pull away from the university, carrying you towards your celebration dinner. As you watch the familiar streets of Monaco roll by, you find yourself filled with an incredible sense of anticipation. This isn’t just the end of your university journey — it’s the beginning of something new and exciting.

You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.

“Hey,” Max says softly, noticing your pensive expression. “You okay?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “More than okay. I’m perfect.”

And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.

[sigh-tofm]

when the power goes out one cold and rainy november evening…

… price

- goes full dad. pulls the grill up to the back veranda door and cooks up some mean steaks for you two. gets a fire going in the fireplace to keep the house heated. has half a mind to call the power company and tell them that they don’t need to hurry, he’s got everything covered here. actually, they don’t need to come at all, not for a few days. tells you his thoughts as he pulls the mattress off your bed and deposits it in the living room in front of the fireplace, so you both can keep warm tonight. you let him know in no uncertain terms that he will do no such thing. you’ll let him have is fun tonight, but you will need a hot shower and a working oven in 36 hours, no matter how much he wants to play boyscout. but as you sit in front of the roaring fireplace and your admittedly very rugged and handsome husband feeds you bits of grilled steak and holds a glass of red wine to your lips, a thick, warm blanket covering you both, you must admit that this isn’t bad either.

… kyle

- excitedly improvises. you know, it’s like this every day when we’re in the field, he beams as he brushes the dust off the firepit in the woodshed. doesn’t mean it has to be like this now though, does it, kyle. you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and watch as he finds the least rotten firewood in the shed and uses up eight matches before he can get a light. you almost tell him to leave it and come inside, that you’ll order in tonight, but he’s so engulfed in fanning the little flame to life that you can’t help but play along. you get an umbrella when the rain comes down harder and use it to shield both your boyfriend and his firepit from the weather. when you gently ask how he’s going to cook up the pizza you two were in the middle of preparing when the power went out, he wilts a little, but somehow manages to macgyver a cooking system for it that only leaves it slightly burnt. you know, he says while you two are standing under the awning, admiring your fire baby and nibbling on damp, blackened pizza, in the field we sometimes need to share sleeping bags too.

… johnny

- immediately relents. moans and groans about being off duty and that he shouldn’t be expected to fend for himself like this when he isn’t in an active war zone. you pull up the local takeaway menu on your phone and hand it to him. go get us some warm food, soldier, you prompt him and gather up some supplies while he’s away. the old scottish farmhouse you live in has a fireplace, of course, so you light a fire there and with some effort pull the couch up in front of it. blankets and pillows from the living room, old fair isle knit jumpers from the hallway closet, a sheepskin rug to warm your feet on. when he comes back with his arms full of steaming indian (best to get some extra, mo chridhe), his mood seems to have lightened a little too. especially when he sees you in thigh high knit stockings, wearing his jumper and laying on the sheepskin rug. okay, maybe this isn’t so bad. at least he’s not being shot at.

… simon

- is prepared. goes down to the basement and carries up box after box of emergency equipment. hands you a round little paraffin stove (which you have no idea how to work) and a matching aluminium pan, as well as a large variety of ready-made freeze dried stews and soups. just add water, he says unhelpfully, and continues pulling out equipment from his kit. amongst the various bags of tools and gadgets you can spot tent poles and emergency flares, and it’s obvious he’s been itching to use all this stuff for a while. you decide to entertain him and google your way around the stove, finally getting a light on it. you light candles and pull out your winter coats while the water boils, making it an overall cozy time. hav’ta be prepared, he mutters as he comes to sit with you when the food’s ready, the living room full of his unpacked catastrophe preparations. next time we’ll just go to a hotel, you gently request and serve him year-old mushroom stew, brought back to life with some warm water. he looks longingly at all his equipment. you yield. or camping.

[captainmalewriter]

Unconscious Desires

“Aha! I knew I had it lying around here somewhere!” 

Aiden joined his boyfriend Jasper on the bed with an old shoebox in hand. He opened it and pulled out a star-shaped birthday candle. The purple candle seemed to glisten in the light as Jasper held it with wide eyes. 

“Happy birthday, babe! This special birthday candle should have just enough magic to grant you anything your little heart desires.”

“This is incredible…” Jasper exclaimed. “But are you sure you’re okay with being transformed into a muscle bottom?”

“Of course!! It’s your special day, and I wanna do something extra special for the love of my life! And besides, I’ve been using magic for basically my entire life now. Trust me when I say that anything you can transform me into, I’ve probably already done to myself anyway. So? Are you ready?”

Jasper nodded with a smile as Aiden handed him a box of matches. He lit a match and held it over the candle wick until it caught. Then, holding it with both hands, Jasper raised the lit candle to his face. He closed his eyes and thought carefully about what he most wanted.

I wish for my boyfriend to transform into a himbo— I want him to become the man of my dreams!

With his wish in mind, Jasper blew out the birthday candle with a firm breath. The lights in the house momentarily turned off once the candle flame was extinguished. They came back mere seconds later. Aiden let out a low, purring sound as he laid back against his bed. 

“Alright! Get ready to watch magic unfold right before your very eyes!”

Surely enough, Aiden began to experience the effects of the birthday wish. Jasper watched in amazement as his once lanky boyfriend rapidly grew in body size. Aiden’s muscles swelled until the veins in his arms were clearly visible. His clothes were bursting at the seams as his muscle growth knew no bounds, leaving him naked while the transformation magic continued to wash over his body. The peach fuzz on his face thickened until he had a nice, burly beard to call his own. His legs spasmed as they stretched outward, adding several inches to his height, causing the bed frame underneath to creak and moan due to his growing weight. His feet swelled up like balloons as they became several shoe sizes bigger. 

As his body grew bigger and stronger, his mind became unintentionally affected by Jasper’s birthday wish too. His academic intelligence slowly but surely dwindled away, replaced by knowledge on all things bodybuilding and sex. By the end of it, Aiden had grown to a healthy 170 lbs with lean musculature to boot. Once he had finished transforming into Jasper’s perfect man, Aiden breathed a loud sigh of relief and spread his body like a starfish. All while Jasper was blushing and salivating at the sight of his wildest fantasy coming to life right before him. 

“Wow… I can’t believe it actually worked!!” Jasper exclaimed. His words caught Aiden’s attention. Aiden turned to look at him and grinned. “Hey, how do you feel?”

“Like a million dollars bro!! WHOO I feel FANTASTIC!!” Aiden flexed his biceps while letting out a hearty chuckle. His sudden shout caused Jasper to wince. 

“‘Bro?’ Since when do you talk like that?” 

“Ayy wassup dawg! Damnnn you lookin’ mad sexy right now… How ‘bout you get on your knees and show me what that tongue do?”

Aiden flashed a wide smirk at Jasper as he groped his growing member. Jasper took a deep breath. While it was true that Aiden was acting unusually, the current circumstances were more likely than not the culprit. It wouldn’t be the first time he got really into character when they roleplayed. Magic just happened to play a supporting role this time around. 

“Yo? We doin’ this or what!”

Jasper returned to the present moment and almost gasped when he saw Aiden’s junk standing at full mast. It seemed like the birthday magic left his boyfriend well-endowed! It was the last thing Jasper needed to convince him to just roll with it. He promptly got onto his knees, ready to service Aiden’s cock with his throat, but when he leaned in, Aiden stopped him.

“Woah woah woah. You and I both know that’s not what I meant.”

Jasper leaned back as Aiden made himself comfortable. Once he finished readjusting, his feet were right in Jasper’s face!

Jasper was shocked. He wasn’t expecting Aiden to shove his feet in his face, but even though it was a surprise, it was not an unwelcome one. He couldn’t help but admire how soft and smooth the soles of Aiden’s feet looked. Aiden smirked as he watched Jasper worship him with his eyes. 

“C’mon man… You know you want to,” Aiden wiggled his big toe as if to beckon him. Jasper hesitated but just couldn’t help himself. He had always wondered what it would be like to worship a jock's feet, but he could never bring himself to act on his desires. So he simply repressed. He was content never indulging in his secret desires, or so he told himself anyway. Now that the birthday candle had granted the one thing he had always wanted, Jasper knew he just had to seize the opportunity while he had the chance.

Jasper started by pressing his nose against the crevices of his toes. Aiden had clean feet for the most part, but Jasper could still pick up a slight trace of sweat through his nose. The smell of his boyfriend’s feet left him intoxicated and hungry to devour him whole. Jasper continued by licking the center of Aiden’s foot. He pressed his tongue into his soft sole and let it slide around in a swirling motion. Aiden groaned with delight as Jasper massaged and licked his feet, his hand wrapped firmly around his member as he began to slowly pump his cock while he was being worshiped. 

He worked his tongue up his foot and licked around and between Aiden’s toes like lollipops. Jasper sucked on his big toe. The feeling of his boyfriend’s warm, wet tongue made Aiden squirm with pleasure. He let out a strained “fuck..” as Jasper continued going down on his feet. The sound of his boyfriend’s moans filled his ears, motivating Jasper to give him everything he got, all while stroking his boner as it throbbed and pressed against his pants, just begging to be released and played with. Aiden noticed this and decided to take it to the next level. 

Aiden rolled off the bed and instructed Jasper to lie down, which he promptly did. Aiden then laid his lips against Jasper’s as he proceeded to take off his clothes piece by piece. His cock sprang to life once it was finally released from the blue denim that kept it trapped. Once he was naked, Aiden moved his lips down Jasper’s body, planting kisses along the way until he was at his crotch. He gave Jasper’s dick tip a quick suck, causing him to squirm from the pleasurable sensation, before laying down on the bed opposite to him. Once in position, Aiden grabbed the nearby lotion bottle and lathered his feet with a generous amount of lotion. He then placed his feet on Jasper’s cock and began massaging it with his feet. 

“Oghhhhh fuckkkkk…” Jasper moaned. The feeling of Aiden’s soft, smooth soles pressing against his cock was unlike anything he had ever experienced before!

Aiden had god-like control over his feet. Thanks to the lotion, his feet glided smoothly across Jasper’s dick as he jerked him with his feet. Aside from simply moving his feet up and down Jasper’s length, he knew how to control the speed and intensity of his touch. He’d speed up and slow down the pace of his stroking speed, he’d occasionally grip his cock with his toes, he could do it all! Every time Jasper moaned from something Aiden did, he made sure to do it again and again but made sure to ease up just before Jasper could finish. It was a devilish dance, but it was one that Jasper was happily ensnared in. 

Unfortunately, though, despite Aiden’s best efforts, Jasper could only last a few more pumps before he blasted his load all over himself. He was panting for breath as he finished leaking, and Aiden could feel his member pulsating in between his feet as he began to grow soft again. Some of Jasper’s spunk got on his toes. When he realized that, Aiden lifted his foot to Jasper’s mouth, who then gladly licked his toes clean. 

“Oh my God… That was fucking amazing…!”

“Yeah bro? You like that shit, huh?”

“Yeah! I do, but can you stop talking like that, Aiden? It was hot in the moment but I’m over it now.”

“Huh? Talking like what?”

“You know, the bro talk!”

“Huhhhhhh? What you mean by that?”

Growing irritated, Jasper flashed a mean look at Aiden. However, when he saw the innocent look of confusion in Aiden’s eyes, Jasper’s expression softened. He felt something hard drop inside his gut. Something was seriously wrong.

“Aiden? How do we reverse my birthday wish?”

“The what?”

“My birthday wish!! You gave me a magic candle that would grant me a wish for my birthday! Don’t you remember?”

“Oh shit! It’s your birthday!? Happy birthday brother!! I hope I was able to make it a good one!” 

Aiden laughed without a care in the world, while Jasper felt the consequences of his wish weigh down on him. He knew how powerful the magic candle was. He made sure to be careful about what he wished for if he was going to use it to bring his deepest desires to life. Yet, despite his precautions, it seemed like the candle caused changes in Aiden even Jasper didn’t know how much he wanted. Sitting in front of him was a dumb, horny jock who had no idea what magic was or how he came to be. Without Aiden’s magical know-how, there was no telling when or how he’d transform back to his original self.

As the reality of the situation sunk in, Jasper felt the bed shift as Aiden moved up to him.

“Hey man, I helped you get off, now it’s my turn! It’s only fair!”

Aiden then proceeded to lift Jasper’s foot and guided it into his mouth, where he proceeded to lick and suck on it. Jasper moaned as Aiden went to work servicing him. As it happened, he felt something long and hard started pressing against his butt as Aiden moved in closer. 

It was definitely not the time for round two— Jasper knew that, but after already getting a birthday footjob from his boyfriend, he figured he might as well finish the job before getting to work on finding a way to turn Aiden back. 

All of Aiden’s magic spells and items weren’t going anywhere after all. Might as well enjoy his birthday while he can and worry about finding a solution tomorrow.

[theonlyonesora]

Breaking Down

Synopsis. When he breaks something valuable of yours in a fight.

Pairings. (SEPARATE) Lando Norris x Reader, Charles Leclerc x Reader, Carlos Sainz x Reader, Pierre Gasly x Reader

Lando Norris

You’re at his house in Monaco. The late afternoon light casts long shadows through the open windows. You sit cross-legged on the bed, his sweatshirt draped over your body, trying to calm yourself.

“I can’t read you,” he says, his voice flat. “I don’t know if you’re here because you want to be or because you just don’t know where to go.”

The sentence hurts. Too close to the truth. Or maybe too far.

“Do you think I’m using you?” you ask, your jaw clenched.

He throws his arms up. “I don’t know! You don’t talk to me anymore!”

And then his hand knocks over the candle on your nightstand—the one you lit every night when you missed home. The glass shatters. The wax spills. The flame goes out.

You look at him like something sacred has ended.

Lando falls silent immediately. His eyes flick to yours, wide and sad.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he offers weakly.

But you just whisper, “You can’t replace everything that breaks, Lando.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Charles Leclerc

Rain beats against the windows of your Monte Carlo apartment. A storm is approaching the coast. The apartment feels colder than it should.

You never imagined Charles would raise his voice. Not to you. Not like this.

But there he is—hands in his hair, pacing back and forth like a man coming undone.

“You always do this,” he snaps, his voice as harsh as you’ve ever heard it. “You walk away and expect me to fix it.”

“I’ve never asked you to fix anything,” you snap, gripping the edge of the counter and trying not to cry.

He points to the table where the chipped porcelain music box sits—a gift from your mother when you moved to Monaco. The one he knows means more than you’ve ever said out loud.

Your hand flies away. The music box clatters to the floor. Silence fills the room.

The melody never plays again.

Don't scream. Just stare at the broken pieces.

Charles exhales shakily, regret already welling in his eyes. "My love… I didn't mean to…"

But you're already pulling away, and something in both of you breaks forever.

Pierre Gasly

our elegant Parisian apartment. Your perfume hangs in the air, as do the echoes of words spoken too quickly, too loudly.

“You never stop looking back,” Pierre growls. “As if you’re still waiting for someone else to show up!”

You’re crying now, tired of this endless argument.

“I’m here. I chose you.”

“Then why do I feel inadequate?” he asks sharply.

You open your arms. “I gave you everything, Pierre!”

He reaches for the crystal frame on the mantelpiece—the one that holds a photo of your first trip together, smiling with champagne on a snow-covered balcony.

He doesn’t mean to. He slips.

Glass and memories shatter on the marble floor.

Your breath leaves your lungs.

Pierre freezes, horror in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to… mon cœur, I didn't…"

You kneel beside the broken picture frame, your tears silenced now. "You don't fix things by breaking them anymore."

And this time, you're the one who walks away.

Carlos Sainz

A warm afternoon in Madrid. The scent of citrus and tension hangs in the air. You’re in the garage of his family’s summer home, surrounded by memories and old tools.

“You don’t trust me,” you say, barely above a whisper. “Not with your heart. No way.”

Carlos leans against the counter, his eyes dark and his voice hard. “Because you keep proving I shouldn’t.”

Your heart races. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s true.”

Your gaze falls on the miniature go-kart on the shelf—his first go-kart, a tiny replica he let you keep for good luck. You grab it, needing something to hold on to.

He sees the movement, misinterprets it, and slams his palm on the shelf in frustration. The go-kart flies.

It hits the concrete. It shatters.

Silence.

"Fuck…" he sighs, instantly regretful.

You crouch down, picking up the broken pieces with shaking hands.

Carlos kneels beside you, his voice low and shaky. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him. Or you."

You look up at him, your eyes brimming with tears. "But you did."

[sailorsoons]

Dark Gospel | Teaser (c.hs)

PAIRING: Vernon x afab reader

SUMMARY: After discovering Vernon experienced a violent possession on Halloween night, you try to help him get his old self back. Except Vernon is insisting he's not still possessed and this has always been what was lurking under his surface... and you're not totally convinced that you mind.  

WC: TBD

AU: Supernatural, Thriller, It’s Complicated Relationship

GENRE: Smut, A Little Angst

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

TEASER WARNINGS: Brief, non-descriptive mentions of murder, mentions of spiritual possession, light depictions of the start of a ritual, Vernon being a cocky little shit, references to sexual acts.

A/N: Blame the new teaser. I don't know how I ended up writing the part I swore I never would.

 MASTERLIST | ASK | TAG LIST | READ THE PREQUEL |

READ FULL FIC NOW

Vernon watches you with hungry eyes, leaning back on his palms. His legs are crossed casually, entirely at ease. The only part of him that appears dialed in is his eyes, tracking your every movement, a predator tuned in to its prey. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, turning to your backpack on the floor. 

“Like what?”

“You know like what.”

“Like I want to taste you again?” Your stomach flips and your grip tightens on the notebook you pull from your bag. “Fine, I will try not to look at you like that. Proceed with your little ritual.”

“You agreed to it, you know?”

“Like I said.” He sighs, rolling his head back so that he’s staring at the ceiling. “Your wish is my command. And it’s not going to work - I’m just me. Nothing to get rid of.”

“Well ‘just you’ can’t cross a line of salt, so that must not be true.”

“It’s my new salt allergy.” 

“Vernon.”

He’s grinning at you when you look at him, that ravenous gaze just as present on his face. “It’s a joke, Love. Feel free to laugh at your convenience.” 

Love. Not Lovecraft, like he used to call you, but something new and with weight to it, something intimate, said with a velvet purr that makes your hands sweat. Not darling like the spirit that had - and still might be - possessing him.

You think he is still possessing him, anyway. Vernon insists that it’s just him with a new edge, forever changed by that night on Halloween. You cannot imagine it’s just Vernon and not the spirit of the murderer Thomas inside of him. Why else would Vernon have killed those people? Why else would he not be able to cross salt? Why else would he look at you like he would set the world on fire for you? 

He’s looking at you like that right now, gaze half-lidded and heady. You ignore him in favor of scanning your scrawled script on the paper, memorizing the words you’re supposed to chant. You nod and toss the journal back onto your bag, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans before standing in front of the circle. 

Vernon looks up at you. He looks beautiful like this, his long, silky lashes framing his dark eyes. His face is flickering in shadow from the candles, equal parts demon and angel. Again, you fight the urge to shiver. Instead, you begin walking clockwise, careful not to break the line of salt.

Voice wavering, you whisper, “By salt of earth and flame of will, I break your hold, I bind, I still.”

[tteokdoroki]

Denji blushes when you hold his cock hand

☆༉ — DENJI. pretty boy.

about. let’s pretend this ask isn’t years old but yeah actually he does omg :( !! started writing this ages ago but finished for @miguelism mwah <3

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. characters aged up to 20s, smut, nsfw, handjobs, exhibitionism, praise kink, college!au, gn!reader, roommate!denji.

“denji…”

“uhuh— i mean, uh, yeah?”

“has anyone told you, you’ve got such a pretty cock?”

you feel the entirety of denji’s length twitch within your hold— his head full of sunshine blonde hair falling back on the wall you’ve caged him against. your fingers are soft, pillowy around his thick shaft and your thumb presses to his leaky slit curiously, watching his face for a reaction. “y-you’d be the first…ah—fuck!” denji whimpers, golden brown eyes falling away from the world as you give your wrist an experimental flick, testing the waters on what you can do to him. “that’s nice…that’s real nice.”

you giggle, his precum oozing into the seat of your palm the more you start to jerk him off in the right space of aki’s bathroom. “yeah? i want you to feel good, denji.” you doubt that your roommates would want to be woken up by slick sounds and whiny whistle tone moans, so you step forward and reach out into the dark— pressing your lips against your boyfriend’s in a slow, syrupy kiss.

it’s adorable how he chases the warmth of your mouth, like a moth drawn to a candle flame, when you pull away to check the door only briefly. “come back, baby…please,” he pleads while he feverishly fucks your hand as if he’ll never get the chance to do so again. “feels good when you’re close…when you kiss me ‘n you use…shit, y-your t-tongue on me!” pleading turns to soggy, pathetic whimpers that are muffled by your tongue as you push your way back into denji’s mouth to shut him up.

you make denji feel like he’s going fucking insane, desire ripping through is chest, lewd squelching noises from his cock bleeding arousal all over your hand overlaying his soundtrack of moans and tongue lapping over tongues. opaque white slings around your knuckles as it drips from his creamy tip, only serving to guide your fist up and down his throbbing a little easier — as if it were a makeshift flesh light.

he really is so cute like this — pliant and needy underneath you, his body seizing up at your sensual ministrations and his skin shiny with sweat under the moonlight. the chainsaw devil can’t help but hiccup loudly despite how you pacify him with sweet, loving smooches. tears slip down the apples of his cheeks and track salt along your tongue too where they land at the corner of denji’s mouth. “you look so pretty with your cock in my hand,” praise for denji comes easily to you — he deserves to be cherished, to know that he’s good and loved. squeezing the base of his length, you push your thumb through his seedy slit just to see him cry, circling his bright red and mushroomed cockhead in order to lube him up more.

a pink flush blossoms across the expanse of his milky skin with every pump of his dick and his his head falls back against the wall with a dull thud. you lick your lips at the sight of his adam’s apple bobbing and his body shuddering, revealing to the naked eye just how desperate denji truly is.

“do you think you could cum for me, denji?”

the stutter in his hips tells you the answer, but you want a verbal one anyways — so for a moment, you stop palming his dripping wet cock and wait for his response.

“well?”

“please, i can do it,” he pants, eager to please — his honey brown eyes crazed and delirious. “j-just call me pretty again. ‘nd i promise i’ll—“

even with his back pressed right up against the wall and his shoulders quivering in anticipation of his impending high — denji still towers over you. so you stand on your tippy toes, languidly flicking your wrist to get him off, in order to whisper your command into the shell of his ear. “make a mess for me, pretty boy.” you simper, mouth falling open to mock his moans like you’re right on the edge with him.

denji cums with a shout and his release spills into your spoiled palm like a stream of molten igneous rock, painting your knuckles a gooey white. you have to cover his mouth with your remaining hand, muffling any sounds that escape him since his brain quite literally short circuits, reducing the poor blonde to nothing but tears and brainless babbles.

you do your best to keep him quiet while he twitches through the aftershocks — after all, it would be a shame if some else got to see your pretty boy blushing with his cock out.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[bellarkeselection]

Hey could you write for Daemon targaryen like while he's being haunted in harnehal he finds his comfort in a prisoner and falls in love with her targaryen type of love and obsession and he married her like his second wife something he listens to her obeys her admires her while he fights war for rahaenya right guess she isn't happy with their marriage but have to accept as he's crucial for her but later on when they're leading she asks him her head so they both escaped with caraxes alive to anywhere you want

His Compass of Harrenhal

Tag list - @only4thefics @superintenseart @universallyrascaldreamercookie

This request will have a couple of parts to it so enjoy and if you want to be added send that below in the comments 😊

I could hear footsteps slowly coming through the castle that I was forced to be a prisoner in. Not physically but mentally inside my mind for years and years to come. Sneaking through the hallway near the kitchen I raised my sword until I jumped around the corner feeling the cold tip of a sword against my throat. “Show yourself you ghost!”

“Not before you reveal yourself first!” I heard a deep man’s voice shifting my gaze up to meet his purple eyes that could only belong to a Targaryen.

I gulped slightly nervous that I must still be having another nightmare. “What is your name, ghost?”

“I’m no ghost, strange woman. I am Daemon Targaryen. The future king of the Seven Kingdoms. Now who the hell are you!” He growled under his breath glaring his eyes deadly in my direction.

The tip of my sword was pointed up against the fabric of his tunic shirt while he had his sword end up against my throat. Both of us never lowered our weapons while we spoke to one another. “My name is Y/n, Y/n Tully. I was wed to the late lord of this castle until I started hearing and seeing things that didn’t make sense. I’ve been attempting to escape ever since he called me a witch.”

“He’s named you a prisoner then?” Daemon raised a brow at me.

Shaking my head, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. “I’m not quite sure anymore. I haven’t been able to trust my own mind to tell me what is real and what is fake for far too many years. Why are you here, if you’re truly here.”

“Have you known any of these ghosts you see to ever have a sword pressing against your throat.” He questioned me.

I replied, beginning to lower my blade off of his chest. “I can’t say that they ever have.”

“Then we may not be alone in whatever is going on inside this dreadful castle.” He placed his sword back in his belt, walking into the kitchen and I followed him knowing it was probably a better option then going back alone to my old chamber room. I couldn’t stand the idea of being a prisoner here anymore than I already had because I feared I wouldn’t make it through another night on my own. Not without Daemon by my side.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been staring into the burning flames of one of the candles I was holding in one hand and my sword tightly clenched in the other. The rain hadn’t stopped at all during the day and I didn’t believe it was going to stop throughout the night either. Hearing footsteps coming into the chambers I scrambled to my feet I spun around aiming my blade towards the shut window until someone put their hand over my mouth causing me to go into fight or flight mode. “Get your fucking hands off of me - gah!” I screamed attempting to cut the ghost with my blade.

“Gīda ilagon. Gīda ilagon, issa klios ābrazȳrys ( Calm down. Calm down, my fish wife ).” I sucked in a breath feeling the tension in my body beginning to fade recognizing the voice that spoke in my ear.

Closing my eyes I paused lowering my sword asking him a question. “Issi ao se vala nyke call issa zaldrīzes dārys? ( Are you the man I call my dragon king? ).”

Daemon’s voice whispered in my ear, hot breath framing on the side of my neck. “Kessa, issa byka ābrazȳrys ( Yes, my little wife ).”

“Daemon!” I squealed out in such a relief flinging my arms around his neck letting my sword clank to the floor without a care in the world knowing that he wasn’t in fact another ghost attempting to haunt my mind night after night.

He wrapped his arms around my waist clinging onto me like he needed me to physically breathe. He buried his nose into my hair barely letting some tears be shed from his eyes. “Y/n.”

Unaware of how long we had been there together we had come up with our own secret code system that we made sure no one else knew except for the two of us and us alone. He was fluent in high valyrian and very few people who weren’t a part of the Targaryen family could speak it. So he would teach me every chance he could when he wasn’t trying to raise an army for his queen and former wife Rhaenyra.

“Touch me, Daemon.” I muttered under my breath barely pulling away from his embrace. Needing just a tiny bit more proof that it was truly him.

He moved his hands up to cradle the sides of my face in his own hands , crashing his lips down onto mine in a very deep kiss leaving me breathless when he broke it. “I’m here, Y/n. Your dragon husband is right in front of you.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck I drew him in for another long kiss. He threaded one of his hands into my hair drawing out a moan from me. We remained attached to one another making our way back to the bed where I collapsed onto my back with him hovering above me.

Wrapping my arms around his neck I went to kiss him but a loud knock came from the other side of the door. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.”

“I’ll go tell the asshole to leave.” Daemon got up from the bed, flinging the door opened seeing the caretaker of Harrenhal. “What the hell do you want this late hour!”

The man extended his hand holding out a letter. “A letter from Dragonstone, my king.”

“Who’s it from?” I asked him sliding down off the bed walking over to him, taking it from his hands and tearing it open. I began reading it aloud since Daemon seemed to be in no mood for any company tonight except for me. “Dear Daemon, I have been wondering how the search for men for my army is going. It’s been quite a while since I’ve heard anything from you so this is me asking for an answer. I need more men to secure my throne and my birthright. Keep your word and loyalty to your queen and wife , Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

“You’re first wife. She’s the one the late king Viserys named his rightful heir right?” I asked him sitting the letter down on the nearest table.

Daemon lowered his purple eyes to meet my gaze. “She’s actually my second wife. My first died on her horse, then her until the night I met you in this castle. I need to give her an army to help her take the throne back.”

“You’ll need the support of the Riverlords. House Tully controls how loyal they are. I can speak to Lord Grover for you.” I draped my arms over his neck and he put his hands on my hips bringing me closer to his body.

Daemon smiled widely down at me, kissing me deeply a second time not caring the lord was here. “Brilliant and beautiful I certainly won with you Lady Y/n Tully.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[inklore]

if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.

fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!

i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!

★ — ONE WORD.

overboard 

runaway 

repercussions 

sledgehammer 

stargazing 

symmetry 

deathless 

honey 

retrograde 

stitches 

gravity 

helpline 

hollow 

suffer 

pushing 

warrant 

want 

wonder 

emotions 

nonchalant 

lavender 

daydream 

nosebleed 

jigsaw 

static 

float 

limbs 

hologram 

careless 

lush 

rotting 

phonograph 

hypnotic 

splinters 

magnetic 

wasted 

lithium 

dealer 

she

candles 

sabotage 

secrets

better

crescendo

deny

phenomenon

nights

guilty

move

criminal

blue

rise

thirsty

strangers

clockwork

closer

hectic

change

somebody

more

misery

like

sour

lowkey

peaches

she

nervous

sympathy

scars

disappear

melody

gemini

cruel

persona

supernatural

nectar

obsessed

casual

tryant

xo

dare

honestly

yummy

out

paradise

nuts

groin

heaven

lost

stardust

tangerine

monolith

lunch

pov

perfume

dealer

tough

arson

★ — TWO WORDS.

hush hush

night away

heart stop

stone heart

waiting for

black rose

sad kids

spine breaker

look here

autumn leaves

for you

spring day

love maze

bad decisions

take two

wild flower

blue side

rainy days

face off

slow dancing

polar night

like crazy

club heaven

deeper water

romantic devil

hold me

angel eyes

picture you

after midnight

twilight zone

drain me

sorry sorry

pretty please

how sweet

bubble gum

empty box

love therapy

play me

red velvet 

cherry bullet 

midnight guest 

cherry wish 

code words

ghost walk

bad intentions 

atlas hands 

broken crown 

crystallized words 

filthy pride 

fresh eyes 

heavy feet 

hungry ghosts 

imaginary paintings 

neon jungle 

perfect storm 

slow hands 

stop signs 

sad farewells 

untranslated stars 

after hours 

bad liar 

bonfire heart 

bruised lips 

cherry bomb 

damaged goods 

dead end 

fire away 

gunpowder hourglass 

lonely together 

lost language 

old moons 

one dance 

paper knees 

sleepy eyes 

stolen dance 

vice city 

artificial heart 

cry baby 

daylight fading 

dream awake 

empty bottle 

exit wounds 

ghost orchards 

moving stones 

paper walls 

oceans away 

playing fiction 

something wild 

wild thoughts 

everybody’s fool 

eyes closed 

storms incarnate 

writing tragedies 

stereo driver 

soul searching 

party’s over 

backseat driving 

fearful heart 

backwards directions 

nosebleed seats 

high hopes 

lovers rock

wet dream 

selfish soul 

washed away 

rose rogue 

midnight sun 

teenage fantasy 

wandering romance 

sure thing 

wildest dreams 

rock candy

losing momentum 

ruin you 

heart holiday 

sink her 

cut splinters 

hot mess 

frozen devotion 

little star 

blind faith 

favorite crime 

romantic homicide 

those eyes 

play pretend 

plot line 

pretty poison 

intimidate you 

pretty face 

strawberry kisses 

lovers rock 

worlds apart 

desperate/separate ways 

those eyes 

the blonde 

loving machine 

spill blood

someone’s someone

★ — THREE WORDS.

got my number

happy without me

not over you

crazy for you

back to you

flame of love

just one day

let me know

hold me tight

make it right

closer than this

love me again

still with you

out of love

never let go

love in space

ready to bleed 

bleed for love

between the bars 

can’t be still

cold morning mist 

in cold blood

matter of time 

piece by piece 

ship to wreck 

taut with love 

waste a moment 

can’t see straight 

down and out 

in a blackout 

just like fire 

notes on tenderness 

across the room

fire with fire 

going half-mad

loving to ruins 

rust to gold

send my love 

talking in code 

cradling a dream 

cut to black 

dear to me 

run me dry 

dancing with demons 

kiss and tell 

if you care 

the cry out 

steal this night 

just for now 

heart on fire 

hold my head 

nobody but you 

simple and plain

a familiar sound 

fool for you 

drown your memory 

falling into you 

just like heaven 

warm like beaches 

love that stings 

rotting in places 

moves on you 

save your tears 

a single tear 

light my cigarette 

long nights, daydreams 

boys like you 

love me forever 

hands on me 

like a phonograph 

taking over me 

dug so deep 

touch the ground 

heart shaped box 

where’s my love

tears of gold

lover of mine 

love me wrong

kiss or kill 

exes and why’s 

love is easy 

stupid in love 

easy to love

lost with you 

glimpse of us 

keep you safe 

death with dignity 

just like heaven 

heart of glass 

baby i’m yours 

pull my strings 

★ — FOUR+ WORDS.

love me a little

happy without me

you can't hold my heart

wishing on a star

give it to me

around the world in a day

waste it on me

this mess is yours

feeling like i do 

on a war path 

blood on the surface 

corner of the sky 

do the divine love 

drinking the corinthian sun 

everything is laced in (add word) 

lost in the moment 

in the nick of time 

mouth like a pomegranate 

the bones you’re made of 

when the mania speaks 

all desire & no thought 

blue in the face 

collapsing and relapsing 

middle of the night 

sail to the sun 

lay down your arms 

falling into the sky 

take me where your heart is 

she’s like the bad weather 

kill for your love 

the cigarette and the smoker 

the match and the fuse 

saint, i’m a sinner 

when the sky comes falling 

pretty little hand in mine 

even when the sun don’t shine

staring at the sun / sunset 

tangled up with you all night 

paper airplanes flying 

maybe i’m a fool 

tastes like rock candy 

blood in a lemon

(a) heart ready to die 

fate is losing its patience 

at least we feel alive 

death for your secrets 

someone’s gonna ruin you 

dancing in a crowded room 

smell you on my clothes 

always taste like you 

leave me wanting more 

hunger for (insert here) 

swim before you drown 

put your hands on me 

drink my (these) tears and cry 

i’d sleep all day just to dream of you 

so high we never stood a chance 

i’d break down anytime for you 

maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true 

i only breathe so that i breathe with you

a worn out cassette 

lips on my cold neck 

talking in my sleep 

make me feel like someone else 

locked inside your heart 

hooked on her flesh 

it’s bloody and raw 

the angel of small death 

just a couple sinners 

smiles cover your heart 

charmer and the snake 

stuck on your thumb 

if i killed someone for you 

dancing with your ghost 

i miss you, i’m sorry 

woman of the hour 

shut up and look pretty 

queen of the night 

devil in a dress 

the thought of you 

to be your lover 

falling over you 

just like a movie 

love on the line 

[maaneskin]

THE ANATOMY OF LOVING YOU. jack hughes x f!reader, 1.2k

note, repost from old blog also , rewritten. doll face am gna kms

summary, jack loves you a lot — especially when you have a beard made of bubbles

a soft smile was playing on jacks lips as he watched you, the light of his life, give herself a messy beard made from the bubbles that filled the bathtub. 

“how do i look?”

he grinned, “sexy,” 

you stifled a giggle, throwing him a wink, “what if i made eyebrows as well? would that look good?” you gathered more bubbles and brought them to your face when jack grabbed your hand, halting your movement, “what? you don’t think it would suit me?” 

jack laughed, his hand holding yours, “on no, honey, i think you would look sexy as fuck but it would likely get in your eyes,”

“yeah,” you sighed sadly, removing your hands from his and dipping them back under the water. you began blowing at the bubbles, moving them around the small bathtub, not noticing the way jack was looking at you.

jacks breathing slowed as he watched you play with the bubbles — bubble beard still in place. he felt utterly calm sitting in the small bathtub with you, in your newly bought, first shared, apartment. the small window was open, letting him hear all the people outside going about their day. he could hear the radio standing in the living room playing another overplayed song everyone under the age of 25 hated. he could smell the freshly baked cake that was cooling in the kitchen; the two of you had baked it together before getting in the tub, or rather, you baked it while jack stood behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, placing soft kisses everywhere his lips could reach. he could smell the scented candle standing on the bathroom counter luke had given as a housewarming gift. the flame adding to the ambiance of the moment.

but none of that mattered as he watched you play around with the bubbles, effectively, making more of them until both your upper bodies were covered completely. jack hadn’t noticed he was in a deep daze until you splashed him with water. he gasped overdramatically, loving how your smile grew wide, “now you’ve done it!” he threw himself across the tub and onto you, water and bubbled spilling onto the tiled floor. jacks heart sped up at the familiar sound of your laugh echoing throughout the apartment. he let go of your naked body to cup his hand underwater. 

“j, don’t, don’t do it!” you managed through laughter, eyes on jacks water-filled hands above your head, “jack, it’s gonna spill everywhere-!” the water from his hands spilled down onto your head and the floor, “jack!” you removed the water from your eyes, “that’s gonna take forever to clean,” you whined, a smile still on your face.

“you started it, doll face,” jack grinned brightly, placing a kiss on your forehead, “we should get out of here, the water’s cold,” he reached over to the toilet where you had laid out 2 towels. he grabbed one for himself and got out. you got up after him, standing naked as you reached for the second towel. jack wolf whistled, making you laugh and tell him to shut up.

“you’re hot, baby, i can’t help it,” he smirked, leaning in for a kiss.

you were the first to pull away, eyes closed — kissing him was bliss, “i love you,” you muttered.

“i love you, too, doll face,” jack pressed a kiss to your forehead and another on the side of your head, sighing in content, “let’t get dry, we have a cake to eat,”

“we also have a floor to dry,” 

jack sighed, suddenly feeling the water on his feet, “yeah, i forgot about that,”

after getting dry and changing into comfortable clothes (jack wearing one of your oversized hoodies), you got to soaking up the water with your towels.

jack stared down at you from his place on the toilet, getting lost in thought. god, he loved you. never before in his life had he loved someone the way he loved you. everything you did made him feel something. everyday he went to bed excited to exist with you the next day. the day he met you was ingrained into his mind; your cute concentrated face as you wrote something down, your laptop with cute stickers, your socks with cute cats on them. (your socks were his conversation starter — luckily you thought it was funny). it had been 6 years since then, since you agreed to go on a date with him. your first date to the zoo was one of his favorite days. the way your eyes had sparkled as you held his arm, dragging him around to see the different animals. the way his heart had sped up when you smiled at him after seeing the penguins up close had made it clear you would be special to him. 

“jack,” you threw one of the towels at him, hitting him in the face and getting him out of his daydream. you giggled at his confused face, “help me,”

he slid off the toilet, gently swatting you with the wet towels. when the water was gone, he moved closer to you, pulling you into his arms, “are we eating the cake when we’re done here?” he leaned closer to your neck.

“no, it’s for desert; after dinner,”

“but you’re my desert,” he placed a few kisses on your neck before pulling away. he smiled at the deadpan you wore, though he could see you were flustered. he was more than aware of how much you loved it when he kissed your neck and he always used it to his full advantage. 

you gave him a gentle shove, “stop it,”

“never,” jack leaned back in and blew raspberry kisses on your neck, making you laugh. he couldn't hide his smile at the sound. he loved your laugh — it was his favorite sound (your moans being a close second), and he hoped to hear for the rest of his life. 

he placed a final kiss on your neck before pulling away, “i know we said it like an hour ago, but i love you… like a lot. more than i’ve ever loved anyone before. i wanna spend my entire life with you” he looked into your eyes, “you’re the light of my life and i-” his swallowed the lump in his throat, clearing it after, “i love you,”

you blinked away tears. his declaration had your heart racing. jack was never verbal with his love, but when he was it never failed to make you emotional. your eyes ran over his face. meeting his beautiful, bright eyes. you could tell he was getting more and more nervous as you remained silent. 

“say something,” he pleaded, feeling like he might explode.

you gulped, “i- i love you. i love you, too. you- i-”

jack’s eyes softened and he could tell you were getting overwhelmed. with closed eyes he kissed your forehead, pulling you in for a hug, “i love you, doll face,” he whispered, before falling silent knowing you needed a moment to collect yourself. his hand went up and down you back, placing the occasional kiss to the side of your head, “you okay?”

you nodded, face still pressed against his neck. arms wrapping around his body, returning his hug.

“dinner?” he asked, getting up from the floor before helping you. he kissed your lips, each cheek, and forehead before pulling away. he grabbed your hand and dragged you to the kitchen, just like how you dragged him to see the lions on your very first date.

[littlemissmiller]

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: you’ve been billy’s best friend since he came to Santa Fe. You two always got into trouble together, but lately he’s been distant. one night, billy gets into a fight after a poker game gets out of hand. he comes to you, hoping you’ll bandage him up without giving him anymore trouble than he’s already been in. as you help fix him up, you can’t help but notice how truly handsome he is and then, one thing leads to another…

Warning: 21+ (drinking), heavy fluff, smut, p in v , oral (f reviving) slight dirty talk

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: hello hello hello! i’m back with another lil spicy read. this one is so cute and fluffy and took me forever to write but here we are and i hope to get more out with the show being back. unfortunately I haven’t had time to watch the new episodes but i plan on it tonight. also i do take requests (i mainly write for pedro pascal and tom blyth, but I do a lot of other fandoms too so just ask.) so yeah…it’s a hot fan fiction summer y’all so get ready for the heat 🔥🥵 enjoy loves ♡︎

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

It is a warm night. The kinda night that smells fresh and ready for adventure. Billy’s favorite kind of nights. The kind of nights that Billy just loves to make memories getting into trouble. When you and him were kids, there was nothing better than sneaking out with Billy. Going out into town, sneaking into bars mainly, but occasionally the two of you would ride out into the hills, just to get a better view of the stars. Sharing a bottle of stolen liquor from the local boarding house, the two of you would gaze up, trying to count them all and connecting the dots into your own pictures and making up your own stories. You always had a soft spot in your heart for him, and truly felt as if that feeling only extended to a friendship. That’s what you told yourself anyways.

So tonight reminded him of one of those many nights he had shared with you. As he enters the saloon, he feels lucky and optimistic. But as he exits, he stumbles into the dirt pavement as he’s pushed back onto the ground by another patron.

“You’re a damn cheat kid!” A burly man yelled down at Billy

He spits the blood out of his mouth and glances his eyes back onto the man who hit him. He stands over Billy, his angry scowl growing on his face.

“I play fair. Can’t help you, can't take it on the chin like a real man.” Billy spits at him

With that the man moves in, running up to kick him in the stomach. Billy, quick as ever, turns over and runs back up on his feet. He holds his hand over his holster, ready to defend himself if need be, even though he was still practicing his quick draw in his mirror, he wasn’t a bad shot. The man strode forward, snarling at him, drunkenly raising his right hook. Billy easily avoided him, but suddenly another man grabbed his shoulder and he tried to wrangle himself free. The drunk man launches forward, aiming for his face, missing, but still landing a nasty punch to his stomach. He spits out more blood, but holds his head up. The man swings again, this time landing him square in the jaw. Billy could feel the cold metal of his ring as it grazes against his chin.

Billy grunts, the man holding him from behind knees him hard under his thighs and Billy decides he has had enough. In a moment of quick thinking, Billy kicks in the kneecaps of the man holding him, and he falls back. Billy whips out his pistol, and points it at the drunk man. The drunk man, seemingly not aware or afraid of the gun in his face lunges toward him, but in his drunken state, he falls down. Billy spits on him, kicking the dirt up in his face as he runs off, heading in the direction of your house.

Meanwhile, you’re still awake, deeply immersed in an old copy of Romeo and Juliet. The flame from your candle was slowly lulling you into sleep and just as you’re about to blow it out, you hear a rapid knocking on your door. You have a feeling you know who it is, but nonetheless you call out asking “who is it?”while opening the door.

Billy stands at your doorway, holding his stomach, bent over slightly. His lip is beat and bloody. His eyes look up at your own briefly as he whines in pain. You usher him inside and he limps in.

“Christ Billy, what happened?”

“Man couldn’t handle a poker loss.” He explains, reaching into his back pocket and lays down a wad of cash, about $10 worth.

“You won that?”

“Yeah. Gotta keep some money safe for my Ma. Those assholes were so drunk they forgot how to count chips” he groans, stumbling into your kitchen chair. He continues to hold his stomach in pain.

“They think you tried to cheat them?” You ask

He nods, wincing, his face scrunching up in pain. You rush over to him, kneeling at his side.

“Well, your ma is going to be in a fit if she sees you like this.” You say, fingers dancing across his jaw. You move his chin to get a better look at his swollen lip. Whoever had fought him, had given him.

“Yeah. Plan is to be out all day tomorrow. Let the swelling die down. But for now, can you help patch me up?” He groans

“Oh” you scoff jokingly

You stand up, smiling at him, and heading into your bedroom to grab a first aid kit. You were no nurse, but you knew how to help bandage him up enough so that you can make him look pretty again. It was hard to deny that your best friend is unbearably handsome. It wasn’t something you had noticed before, especially growing up, but this summer he had changed. His face had lost all its round baby fat, and his sharp features showed just how handsome he really was. You think it’s his eyes. They are a deep blue, and stand out from the rest of his features. They capture you and draw you into him.

Nowadays, every time you look into them you nearly drown. Your thoughts get carried away with the thought of him bare on top of you, those same eyes trailing down your body, admiring your beauty. You have to frequently remind yourself to think of other things.

You scurry back into your kitchen. You run over to your liquor cabinet, grabbing the highest proof whisky you have. You turn and kneel back beside him. You open the kit, and get out some bandages. You unscrew the cap to the whiskey and pour some of it on a cloth.

“I’d much rather just drink it.” He smirks

“Fine, but I still need to clean your wound.” You explain, dapping the cloth on his split open mouth. He winces at the sting of the alcohol. He pulls back in pain, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig.

“Fuck” he grits

“I know I know I’m sorry…just let me…” you apologize, dabbing under his lip and on his jaw where a fresh cut had been sitting on his chin.

“This cut? Did one of them have a ring.”

“I guess so.”

You sigh. He sounds so reckless. So careless in his demeanor. Yet, as you clean him off you can’t help but admire how smooth his skin is, how this closeness felt strangely intimate. The overwhelming feeling to kiss his perfect jawline was a temptation like no other. The way his beautiful eyes occasionally glances at you makes your heart melt, and your breath feels shaky. You calm yourself and refocus your attention back on his bloody face.

“Oh Billy…” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Ain’t my fault I’m a good card player. Ain’t my fault I’m young and better enough to beat them old men at their own game.”

“You just need to be more careful Billy. One of these days you’re gonna get really hurt.” You warn

“I can handle myself.” He quips

“Yeah apparently enough to go on adventures all by yourself now huh?” You raise an eyebrow at him

He scoffs and hangs his head, turning away from you.

“You know one of these days Billy you’re gonna get too ahead of yourself and get into real trouble. Real trouble you ain’t gonna get yourself out of. Then what?” You ask, cleaning up the last of the blood.

At this point, Billy was on the brink of losing it. Why are you giving him so much grief over this? A bar fight nonetheless? Something as naturally occurring as the desert heat in Santa Fe. Angry, you force him to look at you, turning his chin toward you.

He huffs, his breathing heavy.

“Do you really want your poor Ma to visit you in a jail cell?”

You take it too far. Even you know it. The moment the sentence spills for your lips it hits Billy’s ears like a ton of bricks.

“I just- I’m sorry I just…”

Billy grabs your hand, forcing it away from his chin and into your lap.

“No. You’ve said enough. I thought you were my friend. Why you talking down on me like you raised me?” He sneers

“Because I don’t want to see you hanging from a tree!” You shout

Billy’s eyes widen and yours fill up with tears.

“And one of these days I’m afraid that that’s the last I’ll ever see of ya! Since you like to run on your own now. I guess I ain’t good enough to tag along with you anymore either?”

“Is this what you’re mad about? I don’t understand you’re worried I’m gonna get myself into trouble, but you also want to seem to tag along. So which one is it?” He asks, shaking his head.

“Maybe I want to tag along to make sure you stay out of trouble.” You whisper harshly, holding back your sobs.

He hangs his head, sighing your name.

“Maybe I don’t take you anywhere no more to keep you safe. You know I ain’t nothing but trouble these days.”

“You say that like it’s written in stone somewhere. Like it’s meant to be. Why Billy? Why do you think you have to be no good?

“I don’t think I have to be, but if I wanna protect my family then I may have to do things I ain’t proud of…especially if I have to protect you…” he breathes

“What do you mean?”

“Ain’t it obvious, darling?”

You shake your head in confusion and raise an eyebrow

“No?”

He sighs and leans in.

“Because you mean everything to me.” He gasps and not being able to control himself any longer, he swiftly cups your face, dragging your face to his own and kisses you deeply. You moan in surprise, letting his soft lips consume your own. He pulls back all too quickly though, feeling guilty for being so bold. What if you didn’t like him like that? Then you nod and he smiles. His lips look so soft and inviting and you lean back in. You firmly press your lips against his, your hand clutching the back of his head, pushing him towards you. You run your fingers through his brown soft locks. You’re kissing him back, and seem to want more, which Billy didn’t expect.

“See you what I mean?” He mumbles against your lips, smiling.

You nod in response.

“Billy…” you whisper

“Yes, darling?”

You stand up and slide onto his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that.”

“Me too, I thought maybe you’d reject me.” He smiles, gently rubbing your thigh, hiking your dress up slightly.

“Why do you think I was so upset with you? You smile and with his other hand, he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I was so distant, but now you know why I’ve been acting like you’re nothing to me. I’ve been a complete ass I know. Let me make it up to you?”

He leans in again as you nod. Now that your collective previously unspoken feelings have come to light, there is no holding back. For both of you. Billy moves more quickly, his mouth becoming more needy for you, and you love it. He pokes his tongue through, exploring your mouth. You let him in, wanting more of whatever he gives you. You can’t help but moan against his mouth and he holds your face tighter. You can barely keep up with him, it’s so apparent that he wants you based on the way he practically consumes you. Every kiss feels like a flame that burns your lips, seering the very memory of his lip on your own. You could do this for hours. Kissing Billy was one thing, but completely losing yourself in this messy, raw passion was another. He pulls back to look at you, capturing the moment and image of you to memory. You can tell he wants to say something, but you already know.

“I know Billy, me too…”

He smirks and places a quick kiss on your lips. He smiles, giving you the most goofy, boyish look. He rubs your cheeks in his hands, feeling ever so loved by him. He moved them to your neck and continues to kiss you. He moves his mouth slowly to your chin, down to your jawline and onto your neck. You move your head to the side to give him more space and he practically attacks you. You gasp as he moves his hands down under your dress and up your thighs.

“Can I?” He breathes

“You can…take me to my room first” you whisper, batting your eyes at him. He nods enthusiastically, waiting no time to swoop you up into his arms. Your legs dangle from the crook of his elbow and you hang onto him. He kisses your neck and jaw and he carries you into your bedroom. Once there, he sets you down on the bed and slips his suspenders off his shoulders. He starts to unbutton his shirt, then falls onto you, catching himself and caging you with his arms. He just can’t help himself. He wants to kiss you now that he has you all to himself. He unbuttons the rest of his shirt, tossing it aside and dancing his fingers up to the strings of your dress. You admire his lean figure, his body so toned and handsome.

“Now can I?” He smirks

You nod and he starts to untie the front of your dress. His eyes meet your own, and you start to feel lost in the ocean of his irises. Once he loosens your dress he pulls it past your shoulders, his fingers dancing over your collar bone, following the delicate fabric as it falls down your body. He leans down, kissing the crook of your neck, shoulder and just along your cleavage. You grasp the back of his head, close your eyes and let yourself go under the touch of his lips. You start to slowly and quietly chant his name, fingers running up and down his neck as the sensation of his touch sends you into bliss. He smiles as he presses his mouth against your skin, soaking in the way you melt under him.

“Is this ok?” He asks

“Of course, Billy. Please, don’t stop…” you plea

He slips your dress down more, revealing your chest to him. He gaps in awe, starting to cup and knead your breast. He pinches the nipple before diving down and sucking. You arch your back in response, moaning and biting down on your lip. He swirls it around his mouth, before moving his lips to give the other breast the same attention. His other hand moves down to hike up your dress and he finds the lining of your panties. He looks at you again for approval and you mouth “yes” to him.

With that, he pulls them down and tosses them aside. He trails his fingers to your core, finding your heat and rubbing your clit. He is slow and you love it. He wants to take his time with you, show you how much he loves you and wants to please you. You spread your legs, knees drawing closer to your chest. He shuffles his body more in-between them. He starts to move his hips against you, excited at the idea of seeing you fully bare before him. You simultaneously shift out of your dress, Billy helping to pull the rest down. Once you are fully naked, he takes time to take you in.

“Christ darling, you’re a beauty.”

He rubs your hips, running his hands up to your waist and gripping tight. He pulls you forward as he slides down the bed onto his knees.

“Billy you don’t have to…” you breath

He kisses your thigh and smiles greedily.

“Believe me I want to. Let me?” He practically begs, doe eyes glimmering with desire.

You push your hips forward, readjusting to get closer to his face. You nod wordlessly and he kisses up your thigh. Once he reaches your core, he cautiously presses a kiss to your clit. You gasp, resting on your elbows as you start to feel your body relax on his tongue. He licks a curious broad stripe up your entire slit, before giving it small, precise kitten licks. Then, he wraps his mouth around it, sucking and pulling at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Meanwhile, you let your moans and whines stumble from your lips. He loves it, your sounds of pleasure showing him just how much you wanted him.

At this point Billy feels drunker than whiskey off the taste of you, your juices a delicious, exotic, elixir to him. Like water in the desert, he drinks you up. He holds your thighs in his arms, massaging them while he moves his face as he also moves his tongue. You grab his hair, his soft brown lock tangling in your fingers. You also grab onto one of the hands grabbing your thigh. He glances up at you, pulling back for a moment to smile at you and appreciating your affectionate attention. You love the way he makes you feel and he can tell.

“Feels so good, fuck keep going…”

“So vulgar.” He smirks

“Are you kidding me, my best friend is eating me out and he’s doing a god damn spectacular job of it. How could I not let my tongue get the better of me.” You smirk, lips sliding into a satisfied grin.

“I’m still just your best friend…”

“Maybe a little bit more than a friend after tonight. Is that what you want?” You ask, dreamily

“Yes, darling, more than anything.”

He dives back in, lapping you up and greedily drinking your juices again. He’s almost animalistic as he moves his month, hands moving to grope your ass. You lift your hips to allow him. He moans against your core, needing more and more of you. He gives your clit a few soft kisses, then pulls back and climbs back on top of you.

As he does, he loosens his belt and starts to pull down his pants. He slides out of them, showing you the growing bulge in between his legs. He takes himself in his hand, stroking and you gawk at him. You had always heard that taller, leaner men had the real tools to satisfy a woman and it seems Billy was living proof. His cock was so long and thick, tip red and ready. He wipes the pre-cum along it, moving it down his shaft, slightly lubing himself. You love that you and him are bare like this and you readjust your hips in anticipation. He licks his hand then places it on your pussy, swirling his fingers.

You clutch his biceps, mouth agape as he rubs your entrance with his tip.

“Please…” you beg

He slides in, stretching you out perfectly.

“Mmmm oh fuck, you’re so perfect wrapped around me.”

He sinks in deeper and deeper until he hits your cervix. You let out a loud groan, adjusting to his size. He cups your face, going back and forth in between your beautiful eyes and the place where his cock meets your entrance. He moves his hips slowly, afraid that he might hurt you. After a few thrusts you start to feel your pleasure return, and you ride your new wave of ecstasy. He feels so incredible, his length filling you up so perfectly and as he speeds up, you feel overwhelmed. The rhythm of his cock so relaxing and mesmerizing, it almost lulls you to sleep. He notices and kisses you.

“Fuck Billy, I wanted you like this so bad.”

“Me too, so fucking bad.”

He quickens his pace, giving you more of him and you smile against his lips. You let out a few breathy laughs and he rocks you on the bed. He keeps going like this for a while, kissing you and admiring your beauty.

“Maybe we should withhold our feelings from each other more often, because I don’t know about you but admitting your love for me like this feels incredible.” You mumble

“Mmm I could be in you all night.” He responds

“I have no quarrel with that.”

Billy and you both share a small, quaint laugh and he rolls you over. He starts to sit up and his lips lock with your own. He starts to move your hips and in return you pick them up and bounce. He pulls back, gasping and watches you as you move on him. He utterly transfixed on how your waist and hips move smoothly, how your tits bounce, and how elegant you are. You’re made for him. He moves his hand up and down your stomach and you steady yourself, placing your hands around his neck. Tempted by the way you move on him, he pops one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking at your flesh. He pulls your nipple into his mouth, making you groan and clutch his head.

“My god how did you get to be so perfect?” He questions

“Am I perfect?” You snicker

“More than that, if even possible.”

“Now you’re just being nice” you huff

“Not true darling, not true at all.”

Before you can protest, his lips silence you. Billy pumps into you, lips refusing to leave yours as he feels you clench down on him. You’re close and you cling to him as he sends you over the edge.

“Oh Billy, Billy, you’re gonna make me…you’re gonna make me cum…1fuck!”

He nods into the crook of your neck and you feel yourself becoming undone. You writhe on top of him, arching your back and letting the euphoria overtake you. You reach a peak then slowly come down, catching your breath as you do. He flips you over, eager to satisfy his own needs. He pumps his length into you, messily, his actions becoming more and more sloppy. You can feel he’s close.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum on your stomach okay?” He informs and you nod.

A few more pumps and then, he pulls out. Strings a warm, white cum spill onto your stomach and even up to the valley of your breasts. He rubs himself as the last few drops spill from his tip. He catches his breath, looking around for something to clean you off with. He reaches over on the night stand and takes the towel from inside the wash basin. He cleans you up, then kisses you softly.

“I love you. I always have.” He whispers

“Me too Billy. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

꧁✩★✩꧂

[transboyswitchytales]

'I Am Like a Small Creature Swallowed Whole By a Monster'

Agatha Harkness x Reader Harkness (witch/familiar) x Rio Vidal

18+ MDNI

Mommy Kink/ Daddy Kink/Mind Reading/ Witches Familiar/ Soul Bonds/Married/ ouija is not a verb/ Gore/ Hurt/ Comfort

Previous chapters on A03

Chapter 10: “Hold my hand in yours, and we will not fear what hands like ours can do.” ― Danny P. Jackson, The Epic of Gilgamesh

My Masterlist

“Should you open it?” Jen asked, looking at you, and you reached for the note and sniffed it. Rio grabbed her jagged dagger and sliced the box open to show a blast from the past. 

Putting it down on the sofa, the box read. 

Ouija

You’d gotten an Ouija board in the mail with your name written on it. By the smell of it, someone had written your first and last name in blood. Harkness was written in janky script with drops of dark red splattered on the ‘s’s.  

“Does that mean you have to play?” Billy asked and

“She’s not touching that board,” Agatha says as you move to bring down candles. Rio shakes her head at Agatha, the two are in total agreement. 

The coven all tries to talk at once as you put the candles in a circle and start to light them. 

“Agatha..” Alice says, but you knew this would happen. 

“It was sent for her,” Jen says, holding up the note you’d dropped on the sofa, the one written in blood. 

“I have to.” You whisper, finishing the circle of candles, looking down at the board.

“No way, that’s not happening. You witches can play with the board game. My wife isn’t touching it. Neither of them are.” Rio chimes in, and Agatha turns to look at her amazing Rio. Their eyes meet, and they’re prepared to burn the house down before you touch the board.

“On the road-“ Billy says to explain to you, but you nod.

“I’m aware.” 

“You are?” He says, confused. 

“They have a soul bond link as she’s their familiar. So, of course, she knows.” Lilia says, and Agatha doesn’t chastise her for commenting about the bond. She’s too busy having a silent conversation with Rio. 

“It was written for me in animal blood. Someone wants to talk to me.” You say sitting cross-legged in the circle. 

“ No ,” Agatha answers angrily. 

“How do you know it’s animal blood?” Jen asks, looking at the note. Her fingers held the edges like they might be able to dust for fingerprints. 

“She's part green witch, part divination witch, part Zooloatric. I think she may even be Tempestarius. You’ve got a lot of talent, kiddo.” Lilia says, and you don’t look at her. 

“What is all of that?” Billy whispered to Jen, who waved her hand to shush him. 

“Let’s stay on topic. I’ll shred that thing before I let my girls touch another Ouija board.” Rio says as both she and Agatha weren’t liking them discussing your magic, again.

“I can do necromancy too.” You say letting your finger touch the flame of the candle. You don’t look at them when you admit it. Shocking both your wives by sharing such a thing to them.

“You can?” Teen says, looking a little scared. You feel the rest of the coven grow uneasy at your admission. It wasn’t something normalized in the witch community. It was demonic and closer to the edge of what's allowed in pagan practices. 

“There’s a natural balance, Billy. It’s not just bringing someone back. Something or someone always pays a price. I think someone wants something from me. Why else the animal blood?”You pull at the knots in your hair as you say it anxiously.

“To scare you?” Alice tried lamely, and you shook your head.

“That’s not just any animal's blood either. It’s a wild boar's blood. And an old one by the smell of it. A lot of pagan culture around the boar stems from the bringing of war. Someone threw the gauntlet down. Someone wants to fight.” You say, looking up at the last sentence to Agatha and then Rio. 

“Then a fight they’ll get,” Agatha said so cold Teen's hair stood on his arms. 

“Can’t Death just track down the person?” Jen says and Alice arches an eyebrow at your wife. 

“It’s not going to be traceable.” You whisper, but Rio holds out her hand for the note.

“My wife is right. It probably won’t be. But let’s see what I can do.” Rio said, and the note was given to Death. Jen took a step back like she didn’t want to actually touch Rio. 

Your partner didn’t mind as she studied the paper, sniffed it like you had, than licked it. 

“An ‘A’ for my favorite witch, an old wild boar. Obviously not in Boston, It was killed not too from here, not of this forest, that’s for sure. Paper is cheap, tastes like gravel, and lumber…gunpowder? But she’s right; whoever wrote it was mad. And they gutted the boar in a violent way. More of a ritualistic thing not a normal mortal hunter.” Rio says before she blindly hands the paper to Agatha, who takes it.

“So, we put our hands on the board. You tell us what you want us to ask.” Lilia supplies, and you look shocked.

“I’m in,” Jen says strongly. Surprise was clear on Agatha’s face. Jen wasn’t the type to stick her neck out for anyone. It spoke volumes how much these witches already thought of you. And you really didn’t understand why. 

“I mean it wasn’t boring last time, so” Billy shrugs and sits next to Alice, who moves a pillow for his butt. 

“You don’t need to do this. Not for me-“ You start to feel panic rise in you. 

“Blessing and burdens, Kiddo. Besides, I’m starting to like you.” Lilia winks at you and moves a blanket to the floor, and sits next to you. 

“Move over,” Rio says, and you turn in horror.

“Rio, no! No one should be doing this but me!” You liked the coven, you didn’t want anything bad to happen to them. But Rio was a different story, she couldn’t get involved in this. Not just for her safety but it was meddling with magic she shouldn’t. As death there were rules. 

“Daddy’s got it,” Rio says, and you want to fight her on it. No one says anything about the nickname. Figuring Death was probably a little kinky and not wanting the visual. 

Rio steps forward, and Agatha grabs her arm. Her sharp nails biting into her wife's skin. 

“You promise me..you won’t be stupid? We can’t-” Agatha says, and Rio leans in and kisses her cheek. Agatha lets her, before Rio moves back over to the board. She sits to your right. 

Jen moves to sit next to Rio, and Agatha comes behind you. Grabbing your waist, she pulls you back. Keeping you in the circle but not next to the board.

“Agatha-“ You say about to move back into your spot. 

“Don’t fight us, you don’t put your hands on any of us. And you don’t touch the board. No matter what happens.” Rio says to you for both herself and Agatha. Aggie's hands go across your torso, and she holds tight. 

You know it’s so you won’t move.

“The message didn’t say you guys.” You try one last time.

“We’ve never really been a conventional coven anyway. Why would we follow the rules now?” Alice says, and she places her hand on the planchette.

Everyone follows, and you gulp.

“Remember, no taunting, no talking over each other, and keep your hands on the board.” Billy remembers from the Road. He says it with false confidence in the hopes he seems sure of what’s about to happen.  

“Who’s going to ask?” Jen says, but Rio starts speaking.

“Maiden, Mother, Crone- Spirits be known.” She recites, and Agatha is thrown back to the Road. The piece moves across the board slowly.

“Is there someone who wants to do harm to this coven? To my family?” Rio asks, her face cold and closed off. 

It moves to the corner at the ‘YES’

“Who are they?” Rio asks wanting names so she could have her pound of flesh. 

‘H-A-R-K-N-E-S-S’

It spells out, and you feel yourself growing colder. 

“That doesn’t make sense?” Billy says but he’s shushed by Lilia and Jen. 

“You cunt.” Rio says, and you feel Aggies hold squeeze you harder. Your legs feel like led. 

“Don’t patronize the spirits.” Lilia reminds your wife. But Rio shakes her head. 

“Evanora, you old cow, is that you again?” Rio speaks to your mother in law like she’s the actual embodiment of satan. 

‘YES,’ the piece moves to the word again.

“Who’s your puppet? Who delivered the note and cut the pig?” Rio snarled, and it moves quickly now. It’s stronger and the connection is more sure. 

‘F-A-M-I-L-I-A-R.  M-U-S-T.   D-I-E’

“Oh crap,” Jen says, and Alice shushes her. 

“Yeah, you aren’t being original after all these years. Now answer my question, you decrepit bag of worms.” Rio had not had the pleasure of meeting Agatha’s mother. But she knew you had, and you both still suffered from nightmares from the rotting corpse. That sad excuse for a mother was still causing problems in Rio’s home. 

“Rio, patronizing isn’t going to help.” Lilia said sternly, not wanting this to escalate. 

“Shut it divinations.” Agatha said, defending Rio. Only she was allowed to chastise her wife. She certainly wasn’t about to let another witch do it. Your hand went to her knee and squeezed. Communicating that she wasn’t helping either. 

“That seemed patronizing,” Billy whispered, and Alice rolled her eyes. The candles flickered, and your chin pointed to the windows. Sometimes when spirits entered a given space they fucked with it, and Evanora loved to mess with Agatha. You were definitely going to be her toy. Just like all those centuries ago, Evanora knew you were Agatha’s weakness. 

‘R-U-N. W-H-I-L-E. Y-O-U. C-A-N’ The dead witch taunted the coven. 

“Answer me!” Rio snarled, and Jen flinched at her scary face. 

Billy jumped too, and his fingers moved off of the planchette just enough. 

“Billy, stop, no!” Alice said, but it was too late. 

Your ankle was grabbed, and you felt nails digging into your muscle.. Blood starting to pool out of razor-sharp cuts. With a diabolic strength, you were starting to be dragged. 

The candles fell as the circle was broken and all hell broke lose. It didn’t matter that the house was warded, you’d all let her spirit into the given space.

And now that the circle was broken you all saw bits of white ghost’s whirling around the room like balloons full of helium being let loose. They all shriekd and moaned there were maybe thirty around the room.  

Agatha, to her credit did not let go of you for a second. The witch held on tight, but both of you were being moved quickly. Her legs unfolded, and she moved her feet on either side of you, dug into the carpet in the living room. But the whole carpet crinkled under the weight, it didn’t stop and  the coven and Ouija board moved too. The candles went out now, and darkness fell in the house. The only light was the dim fire in the fireplace. But it was enough to see you being drug across the house. The coven stood quickly, and people grabbed at you and Agatha to stop the tug of war. 

Rio was smarter; she took the Ouija board and threw it into the fireplace. It burned, and there was a high-pitched wine. 

The spirts flew into the fireplace at lightning speed. 

“Be gone ghosts,” Rio said and stood with her knife. 

Evanora did not leave with the rest of the ghouls. 

Lilia had your left arm and was holding on with all her might. Billy had his arms around Agatha’s middle to hold you both. His sneakers squeaked as you were dragged still. His butt moving with yours and Agatha’s. Jen had your right leg, and Alice had Agatha’s right leg. They were all pulling, trying to stop the invisible force that was trying to snatch you. 

Your left ankle had indents from a hand. 

Rio took her jagged, powerful dagger. She was chanting something in Greek now. She started to trace a circle around you and the coven. 

“What the fuck?” Billy said when he looked down and saw your ankle becoming even more bloody. You screamed as you felt your ankle dislocate. Evanora was trying to take the whole foot.  

“Bunny, stay with me, stay with me love, don’t close your eyes,” Agatha said, afraid you’d lose consciousness if the ankle was ripped off of you. You’d endured worse pain, you had a high pain tolerance. But this was pretty intense. 

You realized the irony now, Evanora wanted to take her daughter's lucky rabbit’s foot. You were to be an example for her wayward child. Your mother-in-law wanted to take Agatha’s prized possession. She didn’t go for Rio, she’d gone for Agatha’s Achilles heel, you .

“Aggie, don’t let go.” You whimpered lamely. 

“ Never .” She growled her hold on you tight and never wavered. “RIO GO FASTER!” She screamed at her wife. 

“No one’s letting go,” Lilia said to you, and she was compelled to kiss your hand to comfort you. Just as the thought was there, you screamed. 

Evanora was going about bending your foot now too. 

“Alice, do something!” Jen said in horror as your foot moved. Alice looked around, unsure of what she could do. Rio was writing into the hardwood and it started to sizzle. Giving Alice an idea. She released Agatha and went to the fire. She reached in and grabbed a half on fire log. She blew on it as it burned her fingers. But it started to just smoke, no longer red from the ambers. 

Alice came back over to you. 

“I’m so sorry for this. You don’t deserve this.” She said, but leaned down and burned your ankle. You had a moment of shock where you weren’t in your body. Smelling your flesh melt slow motion. 

“ STOP THAT !” Rio yelled at the witch as you screamed out in agony. 

At first, Evanora’s handprint went away. Alice moved the hot piece of wood off of your ankle. Thinking maybe it had worked.  

But then Evanora came back with a vengeance, and you were all the way on your back. Agatha was holding you around your chest now. She wasn’t going to let you slip further. 

“WHAT THE HELL!” Jen said to Alice, like that was not helpful. 

“SMUDGE THE ROOM!” Lilia yelled at the protection witch with the black piece of wood. Alice nodded and started to go to the windows. The charcoal-like piece was easy to write with. 

The room was warded but if she smudged it maybe it would get rid of the angry spirit. 

“Aggie- I’m I-” You were trying to pick your words before you fell unconscious. Wanting her to know how much you were sorry and how much you adored her. 

“Shh, don’t start that.” Agatha whispered into your ear. Pulling you closer to her chest. Evanora moved up to your calf, and it was like a knife was cutting into your muscle once more; blood started to run out. 

“STOP IT MOTHER! TAKE ME! Stop-Don’t do this! YOU WANT ME! Punish me!” Agatha begged but the evil spirit knew this was far more painful for her daughter. 

You cringed at your wife begging for pain. You’d rather it happen to you than her. 

Rio closed the circle and the runes around the coven. And it stopped, you sagged against your wife. Billy let go of Agatha slowly. Jen released you, and so did Lilia. You had tears running down your red-hot cheeks from the pain. 

“Help me. Rio help me, oh my-” Agatha looked at Rio and begged. Rio didn’t need to be asked, she was already over your leg. She licked the open wound on your ankle. 

“I’m- oh shit, It’s gonna hurt, my baby, this won’t feel pleasant,” Rio said looking in your eyes. Lilia had to look away, afraid to see your face in more pain. But Jen was shaking and unable to tare herself away from the scene. 

You nodded for her to continue and Agath’s face grew dark, the circles under her eyes were deep greys. Billy put a hand on her shoulder. He felt like he couldn’t not touch one of you; this was too sad. 

You closed your eyes, and Rio fixed your broken foot and ankle. It made wet popping noises as it snapped back into place. You all could hear the ligaments attach. The last thing Rio did was lick the burn mark Alice had made. 

When it was done, your head fell to the side. As you panted through the pain. 

“You are one tough witch, Doll,” Lilia said under her breath, but everyone heard it. She was amazed at you. 

“I didn’t do anything. I was powerless to stop it.” You answered full of shame, but Jen shook her head. Wanting to argue with you. 

Agatha couldn’t speak so she kissed your head over and over. Not caring that her coven was watching her affection towards you. She’d needed to tell you how sorry she was for inflicting such a curse as her mother on you. She’d wanted to tell you how strong you’d been. She wanted to kiss every inch of you to make sure as your Mommy there were no more scrapes, no boo-boo’s to find. 

Aggie was unable to let you go but Rio’s mind turned more sinister.

Death got up slowly and turned to Alice, who’d finished smudging the house. She took her knife once more and pointed it at the witch. 

“What the fuck did you think you were doing? You stupid child! You thought burning her would work? What your mommy never taught you about the witch trials? Did that work for the other witches?”

Jen, surprisingly, was the one who went over and stood between the two. Rio’s dagger was still menacingly pointed at the protection witch. 

“I thought-” She stammered. 

“She made a mistake, she was trying to help!” Jen shouted, and you winced at the noise. Agatha’s hand moved to pull your hair out of your face, she wiped the sweat off of your brow. Not letting you go, her arms wrapped around your middle and your weight completely on her. Your hearts returned to that of a witch and familiar, back on the same rhythm. While your wife, Death continued to berate the protection witch. 

“I should skin you, you fucking bitch. You burned my wife!” Rio snapped back, not caring that Jen spoke to her. She stepped forward, and Jen put her arms out to stop her. Alice stepped back, feeling guilty at hurting you. 

“There are times and places that would have worked, and you know it!” Jen said again, but Rio had put a hand over her face, and the skull mask appeared. 

You saw it and tried to get up, but Agatha wouldn’t let you. 

“We have to stop her.” You said, and Agatha was torn between not wanting to and not wanting you to get up and get involved. 

Rio stalked forward and Jen shrank from the sight of the mask. You grabbed Agatha’s hand and squeezed. 

“Rio, don’t .” Agatha’s voice was hard, and your wife stopped. Turning to look at the two of you on the floor. It took a moment of the three of you using your minds to communicate, but eventually Rio waved her hand on her face, and the mask was gone. 

Turning once more with the knife at Alice.

“You are one lucky witch. Not many can be that close to Death and take another breath. My sweet little witch just saved your life. The one you burned, yeah, she’s the reason you get to see dawn.” Rio moved the knife back into the holster at her ankle. 

Alice releases the breath she was holding.

Rio moved back to you and your healed leg. Her fingers traveled over the skin as she ground her fingers hard against your bones. She wanted to make sure the blood was flowing correctly and the bones were completely mended. Rio moved like a surgeon, before her hand found the bottom of your foot. She massaged the pad of your foot. Moving expertly to your heel and using pressure points to relieve the tension. To everyone else, she might look like she was checking you still, but you knew she’d used her power to ease all the hurt. And now she wanted to touch you, but needed an excuse to do it. Feeling like everyone was watching you three. 

Agatha kissed your temple and closed her eyes. 

The coven watched silently. 

“You let go.” Lilia said looking up at Billy. You cringed as another round of blame game started up. 

“It was an accident. I never meant to hurt her. I wouldn’t-”

Your wives didn’t comment keeping their hands on you. You felt that neither of them was forgiving him and it made you upset. 

“You even said the rules out loud Billy.” Jennifer said now pointing the blame at the boy. You took a ragged breath as you felt phantom pains up your leg. 

“You could have killed her.” Alice whispered and Billy had one tear roll down his cheek. 

“Stop it.” You finally say unable to take one more moment. 

“Thought you were all grown up and could play with witches. It’s time to really grow up Billy.” Lilia says colder than you thought she could be. You knew it came from fear. 

“Stop it.” You repeat and Lilia looks at you again. Her eyes hold so much pain, her curls are out of place. And she looks raw.

“We never should have let them in.” Agatha says to Rio who’s teeth are grinding together in anger. Billy looks like he is ready to beg for forgiveness. 

The coven grows quiet at her declaration and you take another steadying breath. 

“Everyone did the best they could in the moment. It’s no one’s fault but Evanora who has always been a bitch. Now I’m tired, and I can’t do this right now. So please don’t throw blame around the room. I forgive you, all of you.” You say looking at Billy, Alice and then Agatha. 

Who you knew wished she could kill her mother a second time. 

“We are so sorry.” Alice whispered to your family. Neither wife said another word, you knew they couldn’t yet. Forgiveness was not something they handed out often. And they despised cheap apologies. The word sorry was a sign of weakness ot them. 

Finally, when you couldn’t take the silence another moment. You tapped Aggies hand and the three of you stood up. Both of their hands helped pull you and you gently put weight on the healed leg. It felt like pins and needles, because it was still healed with magic. But you didn’t feel the same pain as before. 

“Nothing left to see here folks.” Agatha said feeling you growing tense from everyone staring at you. 

 “What now?” Jen asked looking at Agatha and then Lilia. 

“We have extra blankets?” You say weakly and your wives don’t like the idea of this coven staying under their roof. 

“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” Jen says, like the princess she can be.

“I’m staying. You three can go to the motel we passed.” Alice says and takes out her keys, handing them to Jen. Jen is a little taken back that Alice wants to stay in the house after what Rio just did. But it was clear that if Rio was going to kill her she would have done it by now. Instead her wives had called her off like a circus performer does a wild lion. 

 Lilia looks at you, feeling torn. She didn’t know if leaving you was a great idea. 

“I’m gonna stay too,” Billy says with more confidence than you thought he’d have. 

“You guys don’t have to stay. Rio doesn’t actually need sleep, she just likes it. She will keep watch.” You tell them. Rios' hand falls to your lower back. A confirmation to you and a statement to them that you were her responsibility. 

“I will be up. But you are all welcome to stay downstairs.” Rio says, and Agatha looks at Rio. Wondering what she’s up to. 

“Safety in numbers, Agatha.” Rio reminds the witch, who doesn’t say anything.

“If you guys could maybe not make sex noises, that would be great. It’s not that big of a house.” Alice's face scrunches, and you laugh for the first time since the Ouija nightmare.

“Oh god, yeah, please don’t.” Billy says, then looks at Alice, “You can take the couch.” 

“Nah, kid-” she feels, like the rest of the coven a paternal sense for him. 

“I haven’t been able to sleep on anything soft since the road.” He admits and the whole coven’s faces darken at his obvious pain. 

You move from Rio and Agatha’s safe embrace and hug him. His arms wind around you fast holding you close against his skinny body. 

“Hard pillows, they’ll help.” You whisper, and he smiles sadly. Before pulling back and giving him a warm look. 

“I think we may have burnt through the wood, so I’ll go cut some. So you guys will have enough for the night.” Rio says and you walk away from Billy to follow Rio. Agatha to your surprise doesn’t follow. She wants a word with her so called ‘coven.’

Read the full story here!

[mango-bango-bby]

Platonic dabi gives me something I never had 😭🙏 How do you think he would be with baby reader like right after he took them?

♡ Bonding ♡

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, platonic yandere, big brother!Dabi, sibling!reader, baby!reader, mentions of kidnapping, fire, Dabi calls you a brat, NOT PROOFREAD

Summary: Your big brother, Dabi, has absolutely no idea how to calm your crying (Platonic!Yan!Dabi x GN!Baby!reader)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Dabi had no idea what to do with you. He had no idea how to care for you. He knew he shouldn’t have taken you, he had no clue how to care for a baby, nor could he. He was completely broke and just started out his new life as a villain! He couldn’t care for you! But he also couldn’t leave you with Enji, he could let you be a back up Shoto.

“What do you want?” Dabi asked with a frustrated groan. Yet your cries still echoed through the abandoned apartment you two had been living in.

He had tried everything he could think of to calm you down. Yet you still cried, standing at the edge of the old crib that he found at a junkyard. Your little hands holding onto the top on the crib as you cried and pouted at him.

He had tried feeding you, changing you, trying to get you to sleep. Everything and anything to get you to calm down you’re crying. He even tried rattling toys in front of you and even changing you into a different onesie in hopes that it was what you wanted. But nothing worked.

Dabi sighed, sitting on the ground in front of your crib with his hands on his head. He looks up at you for a moment, you’re still crying, tears running down your chubby cheeks and snot on your face. “You’re a brat, you know that?” He mumbles at you, knowing you can’t understand him.

He sighs, using his quirk to shot a flame at a few nearby candles. The apartment was abandoned so the only sources of light were a few candles. Your crying stop for a moment when he shots the flames to light the candles, the candles now light with small blue flames.

You use the crib for support, as you shuffle your way over to look at the candles. Your large eyes looking over as your crying has slightly calmed. You almost seem entranced by the small flames.

Dabi immediately looked over at you, seeing how you reacted to his quirk. Your crying had calmed, your cries now only small sniffles and hiccups. “You like that?” Dabi asked, his voice a bit softer than before. He lifts his hand, igniting a small flame at his finger tips. You stare at the flame, your large eyes wide as you coo curiously.

Dabi twirls his finger, making the small flame move in small circles. This causes you to coo happily, giggling lightly as you watch. You lean over the crib, reaching out your chubby arm. You reach for the flame, making grabby hands at it to signal that you wanted it.

“Ah, ah. You don’t touch. You don’t wanna end up lookin’ like your big brother, do you?” Dabi snickers, using his other hand to gently push you back, causing you to fall in the crib so you now sit on the mattress.

Yes, you were a brat. And you cried and cried, no matter what he did. But he would be lying if he said he hadn’t grown fond of you while taking care of you. He could raise you to be different than his siblings.

You were the only person he loved in that idiotic family.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

(A/N: RAHHHHH I’m back to writing!! I’ve been having such trouble getting inspiration lately. I’m sorry I haven’t been writing much but I’m doing it when I feel like I can 🫶🫶 And I totally agree with you, platonic yans are 💗💗)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

[starshideurfics]

Make a Wish

a follow up to these breeding kink ficlets

steddie, mpreg, wish pussy, wish baby, mdni🔞

Steve knows it’s stupid, that birthday wishes don’t come true. Not when he wished for a puppy on his 8th birthday so he would always have someone to hug, not when he wished for his dad to make it to one basketball game his freshman year, and definitely not now with this impossible wish.

But Robin said he should wish for what he really wants, that all the near-death experiences mean the universe owes them, like karmically. And Dustin made him a cake, counted out the candles, promised they weren’t going to reignite and ruin his wish.

His life is a mess, so different from where he thought he’s be, but he’s happier, too. There’s just one thing that would make him even happier. One insane, impossible, incredible thing that his newly 19-year-old heart wants more than anything.

Steve stares down the candles, flickering yellow flames and drips of pastel blue wax. He takes a deep breath, filling his swimmer’s lung capacity until his chest aches, and blows. He makes sure he gets every single candle as he thinks:

I wish I could have Eddie Munson’s baby.

Watching the smoke rise from the wicks, Steve smiles as Robin says, “I hope it comes true.”

“Yeah!” Dustin agrees, already picking the candles from the cake, before completely changing gears. “You’re still able to pick me up after Hellfire tomorrow?”

“What else would I be doing?” Steve answers with a roll of his eyes. Of course Dustin idolizes Eddie, is friends with Eddie, and being Dustin’s ride has put him more in Eddie Munson’s orbit than he ever was at Hawkins High. Steve has a whole routine now: work his dayshift at Family Video, take his fifteen during the last 30 minutes in the staff bathroom, jerk off to fantasies of Eddie eating him out, then drive to pick up Dustin all loose-limbed, waiting for his chance to catch Eddie’s eye.

He never does anything more than nod, a tiny gesture of thanks for looking out for the boy who has become his brother, and Eddie will nod back, that shared understanding. One time Dustin even said he should talk to him, that they were both so cool and should be friends. Steve brushed him off, too afraid of it backfiring… Of Eddie deciding Steve was a normie loser and telling him to fuck off.

It’s easier to dream of what he wants, to have his little fantasies. That’s all the wish really was anyway.

🎂🎂🎂

That night, Steve has one of his usual pregnancy dreams, the kind where he’s just got a bit of a bump and Eddie makes love to him with a hand cradling his belly, holding their baby. He wakes up sticky, underwear full of cum, still half-hard with an ache at his taint. Steve wishes he had time to finger himself, to relieve a bit of his need to be full, but he can’t.

Instead, he showers and dresses, tosses his work vest in the passenger seat, and drives in for his lonely, dull dayshift. It isn’t a deal day, so he’ll be surprised if anyone comes in before noon.

So, he obviously startles when the bell over the door jingles at 10:30.

Then his heart just about stops as Eddie Munson swaggers in and says, “Hey, Harrington,” like it isn’t the first time he’s ever directly spoken to Steve.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Steve says, losing control of his mouth.

Eddie tilts his head to the side, like a confused puppy, even though his eyes say he’s very sure of himself. “I’m skipping Trig, can ya blame me?”

“No,” Steve says with a nod of understanding. “But why are you here? I can think of about a hundred better places to be while cutting cl-”

“I’m here for you, Steve.”

“What? Why?”

Eddie shrugs, lazy smile on his lips. “Henderson said it was your birthday-”

“Yesterday.”

“And I figure you deserve a little something special to celebrate,” he says, pulling a zip top bag from his pocket to show off the pair pre-rolls inside and waving it in front of Steve’s face.

“Can’t, man. Not while I’m at work. Keith will just… Know.”

“Keith needs to get over himself.” Eddie returns the baggie of joints to his pocket, and leans across the counter. “But I getcha. You could swing by my place for them after you drop Dustin at home. Maybe hang out a bit.” He grins up at Steve, a glint in his eye that feels like flirting.

Steve swallows, feels that tightness in his balls, clenches his asshole. Their faces are so close together; it would be so easy to lean in and press their mouths together. To finally taste the plush lips that live 24/7 in his brain.

He doesn’t. But he nods and says, “Okay. Yeah, tonight.”

“See you then, hot stuff.” Eddie pushes himself back to standing and leaves with a salute.

Steve watches him through the windows, until Eddie climbs into his van and drives away. Then he switches the sign to closed and takes his 15, needing to jerk off right that minute.

🎂🎂🎂

Steve can’t believe he’s knocking on Eddie’s door all these hours later.

He’d floated through the rest of the day in a daze, Robin throwing multiple crumpled up receipts at his head once her shift started, as Steve was spending more time in his daydreams than in the real world. Driving was enough of a thing to focus on to keep him present, and then the anticipation as he parked.

He’s of half a mind to turn around, even after rapping his knuckles against the door, because what even is this? Steve’s been pining for YEARS and he makes a stupid wish on his birthday candles and suddenly the object of all his secret desires wants to hang? It makes no sense.

But if this is the thing that gets him closer to Eddie, he has to take it.

And he’s still pretty sure Eddie was flirting with him this morning…

“Hey, come on in,” Eddie says, a little breathless as he opens the door. He’s got a different shirt on now than he had when Steve saw him in the parking lot twenty minutes ago, like he needed to freshen up for him. Eddie touches Steve’s shoulder, guides him inside, and Steve is pretty sure every one of his nerve endings is on high alert. He wants so badly to lean into the touch, and after a second’s hesitation, he does.

Eddie takes that as permission to squeeze before releasing Steve and sending him to sit on the couch. “Make yourself at home.” The joints are already waiting on the little coffee table.

“Thanks,” Steve says with his most charming smile, as he plucks up one of the joints and places it between his lips. He’s about to dig his own lighter from his pocket when Eddie takes a handful of steps to cross the room, offering a light. “Thanks,” Steve says again, softer this time as he leans forward and waits for the tip to catch.

He leans back to take a drag, dares to glance up as he exhales the smoke from his lungs. Eddie’s mouth is hanging open as he stares down at Steve. “What?” Steve asks, holding to joint out to him. “Something on my face?”

Eddie shakes his head emphatically and takes the joint, inhaling deeply, talking through his exhale, a grumbled, “I was gonna be cool,” only to choke on the smoke. Decidedly uncool of him.

Not that Steve cares in the slightest. “I’m not worth being cool for,” he murmurs.

“Don’t say that.” Eddie rubs at his watering eyes. “Henderson basically worships the ground you walk on, you always make time for him and Sinclair, and Buckley is-” He cuts himself short, like he has more to say—more he knows—but he knows he shouldn’t. “I’m just saying, you’re a good dude, and you’re so-”

“What?” Steve stands, taking the joint back and leaning into Eddie’s space, hoping beyond hope that he’s reading the situation right.

“Beautiful,” Eddie breathes, eyes darting between Steve’s eyes and his lips before squeezing them shut, like he’s preparing for a punch.

Lifting a hand, Steve cups Eddie’s cheek, feels the stubble beneath his palm, and closes his eyes as he brings their mouths together.

The kiss is slow to start, but soon enough Eddie is kissing him back with abandon. Both his hands cradle Steve’s face, guiding him to sit, the joint carefully abandoned in an ashtray. Once Eddie has joined him on the couch, Steve takes charge again, climbing into his lap and grinding down against him.

They’re both hard, Eddie moaning into Steve’s mouth, a whining sound, pleading without words. Eddie is the one to break first, taking huge, gasping breaths as he stares up at Steve in awe. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Steve whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What else do you want, Steve?”

“Just you,” he says, leaning down for another greedy kiss and rutting their clothed dicks together. “God, Eddie, want you to fuck me.”

“I’m dreaming. This can’t be real. You can’t be real.” Eddie traces a thumb over Steve’s cheek and down to his lips.

“I’m real, and I really want you.” Steve catches Eddie’s hand, and brings it down to press against his crotch. “I’m hard for you. Only for you.”

“Steve…” He sounds unsure, but Eddie’s fingers are on Steve’s fly, popping the button, pulling down the zipper.

“Touch me, Eddie.”

“Steve…” This time he says his name like a prayer, his fingers slipping inside Steve’s jeans, under the waistband of his underwear. His knuckles brush against Steve’s dick and they both shiver. “Something about you speaks to my- to my soul. Something in the back of my mind.” He swallows hard, and Steve guides his hand to grip his shaft.

Neither of them needs much to climax now, but it isn’t what Steve wants. “Take me to bed, Eddie,” he murmurs. “Strip me down and fill me up. I want you to fuck me, make me feel you everywhere.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be asked again. Together, they fumble and stumble, awkward as they rush down the hall to Eddie’s room. They continue to rush, helping each other from their clothes, two young men panting for air as hungry eyes rove over naked bodies. Steve plops down on the bed, putting himself eye to eye with Eddie’s leaking cock.

He looks up, asking for permission with a glance, and when Eddie gives it, he delicately kisses the head and takes it into his mouth. Just the warmth of his mouth, the wetness, is enough to make Eddie jerk forward, but Steve is careful and moves with him, hand around the shaft. “Too much?” he asks when he pulls off.

“If you’re serious about me fucking you,” Eddie says, his dark eyes nearly black with wanting.

Steve is quick to nod, knows it will be easier on his stomach so Eddie has better access, and he turns, leaning heavily onto the mattress, feet on the floor.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, “Beautiful like this, too.” Then he laughs when Steve wiggles his ass as seductively as he can manage, and pets a hand over his flank. “I’m coming, sweetheart, just gotta grab a rubber.”

“No, don’t.”

“Steve?”

“I want to feel everything. Please.” Steve can feel hot tears clinging to his lashes, and hopes Eddie doesn’t notice. “Want you to come inside me.”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees, voice small. “Still need lube, okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve answers shakily. He needs to be wet for Eddie, wants it to feel good for them both, and the ache in his taint is back. The need makes him clench, feels like his entire crotch is squeezing—

A hand caresses his right asscheck. “You sure about this?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve unclenches. “Yes. Want you so bad it hurts.”

The hand moves, thumb sliding between his cheeks and moving one to the side, exposing his hole and—

Eddie’s breath catches, thumb sliding lower, skirting past his asshole and down to press on Steve’s taint.

It gives.

New wetness is exposed to the air as Eddie’s thumb pushes into him. “Steve?”

“Oh my god…”

“Steve… You’ve got a pussy behind your balls.”

“What?” he gasps, clenching again, feeling the muscles grip Eddie’s thumb. “No, I…” He shifts, takes more of Eddie’s thumb inside him. “It came true.”

This time, it’s Eddie’s turn to ask, “What?” all breathy and light.

“I wished for this.���

“You wished for a pussy?”

Steve nods, strains to look over his shoulder, to meet Eddie’s eyes. “So you could fuck me the way I want.”

Something flashes between them, a frisson making the air thick as Eddie withdraws from the warm clutch of Steve’s inexplicable new pussy. He helps Steve to stand, turns him in his arms, and kisses him so gently, like he’s made of porcelain. “Tell me what you really want, Steve.”

“A baby. Your baby.” Eddie kisses him again, nips at his lower lip before letting Steve continue. “I want you to fill me with your cum, want it to catch. I want to hold your hand over my belly so you can feel her kick.”

“Her?”

“Or him. As long as it’s yours and you hold me and lo-” Steve chokes on the last words, tears streaming down his face that Eddie is trying to kiss away.

“Why me?” Eddie asks softly.

“It’s like you said, something in you speaks to my soul, too. You’re handsome and you care so much about everything. You look out for the little guy.” He raises his head, looks directly into Eddie’s eyes as he finishes, “You have a big heart; I hope it can handle me when I’m too much.”

“No such thing as too much of you, sweetheart.”

The kiss after that is slow and sweet, and wet from too many tears. Eventually, it grows heated again, and Eddie lays Steve down on his back, fingers sinking into his pussy and stretching him open. Steve uses one hand to lift his balls out of the way, the other slides into Eddie’s curls, holding him as Eddie’s cock breaches his entrance.

After that it all moves so fast, Eddie comings with a grunt, filling Steve with waves of heat on his final thrusts. Steve wraps his long legs around Eddie’s waist, keeping him inside as long as possible, long enough for Eddie to get hard again, to come again. They fall asleep tangled up in one another, saving their further confessions for the morning.

🎂🎂🎂

Steve and Eddie talk—after Steve calls Robin to report that the most amazing thing happened, but that he’s going to need her help figuring some things out—both a little embarrassed, but pleased to know they both want the same things. It doesn’t take long to decide they’re in this together, and they celebrate with a little cunnilingus, Steve coming and squirting at the same time.

With how much sex they have after that, it comes as no surprise when Steve is suddenly nauseated most days. He’s not sure the at-home test will work for him, but they still try, using the little beakers and double checking the positive result.

Steve cries in Eddie’s arms.

Their wish came true.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Paradise Hypnotized

LUCIFER X M READER X LILLITH (POLY) Summary: As the extermination wages outside, lost and new lovers find themselves with the opportunity to discover each other Warnings: NSFW, 18+, MDNI Oral sex, p in a sex, mentions of a strap, poly sex, sexual themes, use of pet names, and probaby a lot of other things I am forgetting

The night was thick with the smog of the city’s underbelly. Outside, an extermination was underway, a chaotic dance of flames and death lead by an angelic chorus of war cries and screams. Inside the dimly lit royal mansion, however, the world was serene. The clinking of glasses and the soft hum of jazz set the mood for an unexpected dinner with two of Hell's most infamous residents. Y/N were seated at a corner table, a single candle flickering between him and his companions. Lilith and Lucifer, both radiating a magnetic charm, were seated across from him, their expressions a mixture of amusement and intrigue. While Y/N had long not seen the two of his old friends since the Fall, there last request the angel before departing back to Heaven.

Y/N glanced nervously out the window of the posh, candle-lit dining room. Outside, Hell’s tumultuous nightlife was in full swing, with the unmistakable sounds of chaos punctuating the night—demonic roars, explosions, and the occasional shriek. But inside, the mood was decidedly more refined. The grand mahogany table was laden with an exquisite spread: rare delicacies from the underworld, exotic fruits, and an assortment of infernal spirits that bubbled and crackled in crystal decanters. Lillith and Lucifer, sitting on either side of Y/N, exuded a sophisticated air despite the pandemonium just beyond the walls.

“Quite the contrast, isn’t it?” Lillith mused, her eyes twinkling as she sipped a glass of shimmering wine. Her gaze never left Y/N, and a playful smirk danced on her lips.

“Ah, yes,” Y/N replied, managing a smile as he watched her with an appreciative eye. “This world below is a bit more… lively than I expected.”

Lucifer, draped in his opulent attire, leaned closer with a languid grace. “You know, it’s not every day we get to enjoy a meal with an old friend while the city’s being purged. Quite the rare opportunity.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling the tension of the outside world begin to dissipate in the warmth of their company. “It’s certainly a memorable experience. Thank you for agreeing to my request.”

“Oh of course. How could we say no to such an old friend? After all, you truly helped us out before it all.” 

“Well how couldn’t I. I may not agree with what you stand for but I certainly wont stand for anyone, even you two, being shamed and cast down. You are deserving of respect.”

“Tch, how sweet. So…saint-like.”

“And how are you finding it so far?” Lucifer’s voice was smooth, each word dripping with a charm that made Y/N’s heart race. “Hell, I mean.”

“Well, like I said…it’s certainly lively. Can hardly even smell the brimstone.”

“You’re not feeling overwhelmed, I hope? Cause if so, I would be happy to find a remedy.”

Lillith laughed softly, a sound as rich and captivating as the finest wine. “Oh, Lucifer, you know how to flatter. But really, Y/N, we’re just glad you could join us tonight. It’s not often we get to enjoy such delightful company amidst the madness.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed slightly as he met her gaze. “Well, I must say, having dinner with the two of you makes the chaos outside feel distant

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with mischief. "Perhaps we should make a habit of this—dinner amidst the destruction. It adds a certain… flair, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lillith reached over and lightly touched Y/N’s arm, her fingers lingering. “I must admit, it does make for an intriguing atmosphere. And who knows, maybe we’ll even find a way to make it a bit more… memorable~.”

Y/N felt a shiver run down his spine at her touch, her gaze holding his with an intensity that left him breathless. “I can’t argue with that.”

Lucifer, noticing the growing tension, decided to stir the pot a little more. “It’s clear that the evening’s chaos is not the only thing heating up. Perhaps we should address this growing… chemistry.”

Lillith’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, Lucifer, always so….humorous. I think Y/N might just be here for dinner.”

Y/N smirked, it tugging at his the corners of his lips. “Is that so? Well, I must say, I’m intrigued.”

—————NSFW BELOW CUT

Lucifer smirked, sliding his short stature over to Y/N. “It’s been nearly two centuries since I’ve seen you and I will admit…the thought has intruiged me—“

Y/N rose his eyebrow, arching it in both confusion and as a display of asking the short king(hehe author joke) to continue. 

“Wouldn’t you agree Lillith?”

“Oh Lucifer, I would have no idea what you are talking out.”

Y/N slowly rose from his seat, sauntering over to Lucifer. “Oh but I would.” Smirking and leaning down to whisper in the king’s ear, “You would just love it wouldn’t you? How dirty it is, how shameful that you are doing this right in front of your beautiful wife.” 

Lillith’s eyes widen in recognition but settling into a lustful stare at the pair. Y/N continued “But you’re greedy aren’t you darling. You would want her there, both of us. Doing all those naughty little things running around in your head.” 

Lillith started to get up but was quickly stopped by Y/N, who wagged his finger in disappointment. “Tch, tch, tch. No my little poisonberry; you stay right there.” Moving over to Lillith, Y/N dragged his chair along with him; settling next to the queen. With darkened eyes and finally seated, Y/N grabbed Lillith’s chin gently. 

“Why don’t you come over here and sit in my lap mhm? They don’t have things as pretty as you in Heaven.” Lillith, nodding obendiently, crawled over into Y/N’s lap, wrapping her arms around his slender frame. Turning his head back to Lucifer, who sat no so quitely palming his trousers, gained his attention with a snap. “Pay attention now darling, my eyes are up here.” Taking his queue once Lucifer looked up, Y/N dove into kiss Lillith. A clash of tongue and teeth, nothing but a mess of pure erotica and a sense of want. A total and primal consumption of self to satiate the burnig desire within. Breaking from the kiss, both parties panting, Y/N motions with his finger for Lucifer to come over. Crawling on his knees, the king humbled whimpers as Y/N then cups his cheek and kiss him with the same passion and fevor as Lillith. Seeing an opening, Lillith starts to suck on Y/N’s neck, bright red and soon to be bruises forming in a path of affection and lust. 

After some stumbling and a few apologies to the butler, all three parties ended up in the master bedroom. With a quick snap of his fingers, both Lillith and Lucifer were left shirtless; toned and slender bodies on full display. Eyes darkened with hunger at the sight of their bare forms, a silent understanding among them of what was about to happen. 

Y/N leaned down and took one of Lillith’s hardened nipples in his mouth, the warmth of his tongue teasing the aroused bud. Dragging his hands across her torso, he slowly marked her skin with every passing touch. Lucifer, instead dipped down and spread her thighs, enjoying the way they felt in his hands. Slowly kissing up her thighs, just barely ghosting over where she needed him most, Lillith let out a soft moan. 

“Sweetheart, see what you do to me? You are absolutely breathtaking.”

Finally giving into her whimpers, Lucifer licked one long stripe up her dripping slit only for his head to be pulled back; moaning at the impact with his hair. 

“Did I say you could taste her, mhmm? No, but you had to go a be a greedy little thing huh darling?” Tossing Lucifer on the bed, Y/N towered over him. 

“Now you’re going to be good and make me feel good yeah? Yeah, that’s right.” Snapping his fingers, Lucifer ended up behind Y/N. Understanding his job, Lucifer lined up his aching member to the angel’s hole and slid in slowly. Y/N gasped at the stretch, gripping the sheets with each small thrust. Lillith whimpered at the sight, both aroused but feeling neglected as her weeping cunt was slick and cold. 

“Poor thing, don’t worry—ahh fuck—I’ll take care of you sweetheart.” Diving into Lillith’s pussy, despite the, while timid, assualt from behind, Y/N relentessly sucked and licked on that sweet spot like a man starved, sucking on her clit and slurping her jucies tin a way that made it seem like it was better than heavenly ambrosia. It was only a matter of time before that familiar band became taut in her stomach. 

“Fuck, Y/N…..sir, please.”

“Let go my poisonberry, let sweetheart cum all over my face.” 

That’s what did it, Lillith felt the coil in her stomach snap as she cried Y/N’s name. Cum now coated his face and the bedsheets below as her high overtook her senses/ Lifting his head up slowly, slick shone and glinted. Licking his lips, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips and both moaned at the salty taste. Pulling back, Y/N halted Lucifer’s movements, who whimpered at the loss of friction. 

With another snap, Lucifer and Lillith has switched positions, Lillith now adoring a vibrant purple strap. “Do me a favor and do better than ducky here okay Lilly?  So senstive couldn’t even fuck right.” 

With a flash of her teeth, Lillith snapped her hips foward, allowing Y/N but a moment to enjoy the new intrusion. “Shit—ahh…just like that.....don’t think I forgot about you yet Luci~”. 

And that’s how the night continued. Despite the waging war and death outside the windows, some semblance of love could prevail. They say love and hope are fragil things, soft as a feather. But in reality, they are both fighters, wiping the blood from their brows and rising again for the next round to defend the things they hold dear. And so in the darkness, bodies strewn together in a hopeful loving haze of lust and adoration; each person in their own right rose and fought for each other simply by allowing themselves the vulerabiluty of an intimacy forbidden by even God. 

[nixandtonic]

Therebefore

Dr. Michael Robinavitch & named female OC (platonic?)

This is 100% self indulgence because I heard Rachel Zegler's accapella version of "The Old Therebefore" and thought, damn that is fitting.

This will probably never happen again so go easy on me please.

Also I pictured Rachelle Lefevre while writing this - not sure why, but to me it just fit. Tried to steer clear of actual physical descriptors though...

The trauma bay had quieted the way battlefields sometimes do - after the final shot, after the final scream, when there’s nothing left to do but stand still in the wreckage. The alarms had gone silent. The monitor was a set of straight lines. Dr. Rowan Corvin stood by the bed, one gloved hand still resting on the ventilator tubing, the other clenched at her side.

The body on the gurney was still warm. Former Marine Staff Sergeant Jeffrey Cardell, age sixty-six. Three gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen. Pericardial effusion. Hypovolemic shock. Flaccid paralysis from spinal trauma. He’d held on longer than anyone expected - long enough to whisper “make it count” to his wife in the ambulance bay and squeeze Rowan’s hand with his remaining strength before the sedation took hold.

Now, the man who’d survived Fallujah but not a mugging outside a Rite Aid lay beneath a thin white sheet.

His wife, Rhea, was curled beside him, her fingers combing through the gray at his temple, her voice breaking like glass.

“…our granddaughter… took us to see that new movie, the one with the kids and the… the bow and arrow girl, the… Hungry Games, I think - and Jeffrey, he leaned over to me right in the theater, straight face, and said, ‘That’s the song you play when I die.’” A watery chuckle, then a sob. “Not at his funeral. 'When I die, Rhea,' he said. 'A promise to yourself'… and now I… I can’t even sing and my phone… oh God… I…”

She collapsed into her own arms; the kind of grief that sucks all the air from your lungs, folds you in half and makes you feel like you'll never be whole again.

Across the room, Princess stood stiff, hands hovering over the tray of unused syringes. Her wide brown eyes flicked to Dr. Corvin, silently asking if she should do something - anything.

Rowan’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her voice, when it came, was steady but soft. “Princess,” she said, “can you get me the LED candle thingy we used for Langdon’s birthday cake?”

Princess blinked, nodded once, and hurried out.

Dr. Michael Robinavitch had drifted closer during the final minutes - he always did, when things got heavy. Now he lingered just behind Rowan, sleeves rolled, stethoscope hanging like a noose around his neck, jaw tight as he watched the scene unfold.

When Princess returned with the tiny plastic candle in hand, Rowan took it gently and flicked it on. The flame flickered an artificial amber, but it glowed like memory.

She placed it on Jeffrey’s chest, just above the line of the white sheet, where his heart had once labored valiantly against the inevitable.

Then she inhaled, deep and shaking, and began to sing.

Her voice floated like a benediction, weather-worn but lovely - an old Appalachian cadence that belonged more to mountain hollows and church pews than hospital rooms.

You're headed for heaven, the sweet old hereafter And I've got one foot in the door But before I can fly up, I've loose ends to tie up Right here, in the old therebefore

A tech dropped a tray in an adjacent bay and no one flinched. A call light buzzed in the far hall, unanswered. Time halted, or forgot itself. Nurses leaned against doorframes. Security guards stilled. Even the new intern, the one with the jitters and sad mousy eyes, stood slack-jawed beside the crash cart.

And I'll be along when I've finished my song When I've shut down the band When I've played out my hand When I've paid all my debts When I have no regrets Right here, in the old therebefore When nothing is left anymore…

Rhea lifted her head, eyes rimmed with red, breath caught in her chest like she was afraid to disturb the air.

And I'll catch you up When I've emptied my cup When I've worn-out my friends When I've burned out both ends When I've cried all my tears When I've conquered my fears Right here, in the old therebefore When nothing is left anymore

Rowan closed her eyes, she couldn't break. Not yet. Her voice was full of iron, of debt and sacrifice and every loss she’d tallied in this place.

And I'll bring the news When I've danced off my shoes When my body's closed down When my boat's run aground When I've tallied the score And I'm flat on the floor Right here, in the old therebefore When nothing is left anymore

The artificial candle on Jeffrey’s chest flickered.

When I'm pure like a dove When I've learned how to love Right here, in the old therebefore When nothing is left anymore...

The last note faded like breath on glass. Then - silence. Thick. Reverent. The kind of silence that doesn’t ask for applause.

Rhea Cardell’s face crumpled, but her hands were steady as she reached for Rowan, rising with a quiet urgency from the side of the bed. The grief hadn’t left her, far from it, but something in her spine had straightened. A sacred kind of resolve.

She wrapped her arms around Rowan before she younger woman could retreat. Held her in that tight, grandmotherly way - no performance, no pageantry. Just warmth and sorrow and something ancient. Rowan stood stiff for half a breath, then let herself be held.

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough,” Rhea whispered against her shoulder. “That song… you gave him what he asked for. You heard him.”

Rowan’s throat clenched.

She wanted to say don’t thank me. Wanted to rip her own voice box out. She shouldn’t be thanked for singing to a dead man.

I should have saved him.

I should have saved him.

I should have-

The words looped like a siren inside her skull.

He was still warm. His hands had callouses. His chest still smelled like gunpowder and iodine. Her hands had been inside his chest cavity - she’d massaged that heart, screamed for another epi, pushed forward with every ounce of her strength and it still hadn’t been enough.

Saved him… saved him…

Her lungs felt thick. Rubberized. The air in the trauma bay tasted wrong; too much blood and bleach and hot plastic from the defibrillator pads.

“Thank you,” Rhea murmured again, and it hit Rowan like a train.

She couldn’t breathe.

She turned, nodded stiffly, and murmured something - a prayer, a lie, an excuse - before she fled the trauma bay, the hallway, the judgment of overhead fluorescents and the stares of coworkers.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Dr. Corvin pressed her back to the shelf of saline bags, breathing hard through her nose. Her fists were still clenched, nails half-mooned into her palms. She’d stripped off the gown and gloves, but not the guilt. That clung tighter.

She didn’t hear the door open - didn’t see the warm shadow until Michael stepped in and pulled it shut behind him.

“Rowan.”

She blinked up at him. Her eyes were wet. Not the surface tears she let people see when appropriate - death protocol tears, dignified and manageable. No, these were guttering, real.

“I—” her voice cracked. “It was the last thing I could offer him.”

Michael stepped closer, but didn’t reach for her yet.

“I tried so hard to… I did everything, Michael. I threw every fucking thing in my arsenal at him, I cracked his damn chest open and I kept him alive with my hands and adrenaline and sheer stubborn will and - he should be alive. He saved that woman from... and now…”

She shuddered, finally falling forward into his chest. He caught her easily. His arms wrapped tight around her frame, one hand stroking the back of her head like a lullaby.

“This is… this…” she choked, voice buried against him.

Michael pressed his lips to her hair, murmuring, “Let it out, Ro. Just let it out.”

And she did.

Sobs shook her - short, sharp, wrenching things that sounded like they’d been waiting years to escape.

“It’s normal to feel this way,” he said, when she quieted some - minutes or hours later. “You know that. But also…”

She sniffled.

“We can’t save everyone,” he whispered, his voice tight with his own grief. “And that is bullshit. It is. But we have to deal with it. We have to hold on to the ones we can save. Or we’ll never get out of this closet.”

Rowan let out a laugh-sob that sounded like a cracked bell.

He smiled into her hair. “And don’t get me wrong, I’m totally fine with hiding in here for the rest of the day. But Princess and Perlah are probably outside with some chismis to get your mind off things.”

That earned him a snort.

“Come on, warrior,” he said, nudging her gently upright. “Let’s go help someone else make it home tonight.”

She nodded, swiping at her face with the sleeve of her scrub jacket.

As they stepped out into the hallway, the hospital lights hummed overhead. A new trauma was being paged.

And somewhere, in the old therebefore, a candle still flickered.

[hwasdvlly]

Happy Hollow-ween | c.san

↠ summary: a classic yet fun activity for the season is to carve a pumpkin.

↠ pairing: san x fem!reader

↠ genres: family, fluff, and slice of life

↠ word count: 0.6k words

↠ warnings/tags: none. established relationship, idol!san, non-idol!reader, married couple, sannie is husband/father material

↠ a/n: yesss!! another of the choi family which is personally one of my fav writings

“Appa! I want this one!”

“Isn’t that a bit huge? It’s bigger than your head, Mimi.”

The beloved Choi Family are at the pumpkin patch, where they’ll find the perfect ones to carve. It’s the autumn season, too. The weather has cooled down, and everyone dressed in cozy outfits. 

San picks up a pumpkin that his baby is pointing at. He grunts and uses his strength from those gym workouts because it is heavy. “Y/N! What do you think?!” He calls over his wife, who is busy taking pictures of the lovely area. You turn your attention to your husband and see him struggling with the object. You let a giggle, “It’s almost the same size as The Great Pumpkin from Charlie Brown.” You walk up to the love of your life and your little angel. You assumed it was Sangmi’s choice. 

“Okay, I guess we’re taking it.” San tries to look strong, but, for real, his arms are about to break. You know your hubby by heart that he’ll act differently to impress you and Sangmi. 

“Do you need help, Sannie?” You snickered. San didn’t hesitate to deny it. “Nope! Nope! I got this!” The man waddles his way to the parking lot. Sangmi holds your hand. “Appa looks funny.” She laughs at her penguin dad. “You know how appa is, aegi (baby).” You tell your little girl. San will do anything for his angel. 

Once they arrived home, the Choi Family layered old newspapers on the balcony. San and Sangmi are wearing matching Halloween shirts and plaid sweats. You came out of the kitchen after unboxing the utensils to check on your family. 

“Gotta scrape all of the guts out. Like how you pick your nose.” San makes an absurd comparison. 

“Ew! Appa! I don’t pick my nose.” Sangmi rebutted and giggled heartily. 

The man smirks, “Oh, you don’t? Then what’s this?” He reaches over to tap Sangmi’s button nose. She continues to laugh her head off. You melted by the sound of her angelic voice. Maybe she will become a singer like her dad. You joined the duo by helping them scrape the pumpkin guys. 

San sighed tiredly, “Why did she choose this one? It’s going to take ages to carve.” He spoke in a low voice to prevent Sangmi from hearing his complaint. You replied, “Well, you did make a promise to her the moment she was born.” You looked at him with a knowing look. “Promises can’t be broken, I guess.” San meets your gaze, and he shows his cute pout. 

No matter what age or how long you’ve known this man, he is forever a sulky child. 

“Alright! We are done!” San cheers because it did take ages. 

You went to sit with Sangmi and wipe her messy hands clean. “How do you want to carve the pumpkin, Mimi?” You asked. 

“Can we do Kuromi?” She looks at her parents with the prettiest cat-like eyes. How can anyone say no to that? 

San nods his head with a wide smile. “Yes! I like that idea.” He agrees with his daughter. 

When it comes to arts & crafts, San will do it as if it’s a major task. Even though Sangmi wouldn’t mind if it came out ugly, her appa doesn’t accept imperfections. 

The hours went by, and the day was now night. 

You grabbed a small candle to light up. “Here, sweetheart. Our masterpiece won’t be complete without this.” You handed it to Sangmi. She holds the candle and uses her tiny arms to reach inside the top of the carved pumpkin. She places it in the middle before San grabs the lighter.

“Watch baby. This is a magical moment.” He turns it on, and the flame burns the wick. 

Sangmi’s face brightens like the Kuromi pumpkin. “It’s pretty!” She claps her hands. 

San shifts his body to the masterpiece in front of him. “Appa did good, right?” He gives you and Sangmi a smug expression.

You rolled your eyes yet smiled at your self-righteous husband. Sangmi just happily nodded to indicate that her appa did a beautiful job.