#and were still getting Birthday bloom

[lordly-fandom-haver]

You know seeing also the post about Jack and the Nightmare event and The Jamil Room Birthday Vignette as an en server player is gunna make me cry 🥲

[kitten4sannie]

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

pairing: dilf next door! yunho x fem! reader

genre: neighbor au, fluff, smut

summary: you try your next door neighbor on for size when your date cancels on you last minute.

w.c: 3.8k

warnings: yuyu is in his late 40s 🙂‍↕️, controversial spider-man takes LMAO, wine drinking (they are tipsy at most!), brief play fighting, (mostly) dom switch! yuyu but he also whimpers and whines 🙂‍↕️, subby switch! reader, big dick yuyu agenda ‼️, praise/pet names only, teasing (only a lil bit while he talks reader thru it uwu), brief spit kink, kissing, dry humping, fingering, face sitting, size kink >:))), bulge kink, creampie 💕

a/n: hihi i’m back! this fic is dedicated to my bestie tasha @ildangtaek ilyyy :(( and happy birthday againn i hope your special day was as lovely as you are <3 there really wasn’t much inspo for this i just ❤️ dilfs with my whole kitty esp when it’s yuyu uwu enjoy xx

p.s: thank you so very much for 7k followers! it’s still so unreal to me 🥹💕

song recs: new light — john mayer, boy is mine — ariana grande, plants — crumb

“So…you’re not coming…?” you asked your potential date through your speaker phone, slowly sitting back down in front of your vanity mirror, your puzzled reflection staring back at you. 

You listened to his vague explanation about how he wasn’t quite ready to take this next step with you, whatever that meant. All you were going to do was eat dinner and chat, not exchange marriage vows. He hung up before you had the chance to tell him how silly he sounded. Sulking, you shuffled into your bathroom to undo all the effort you put into looking like a five course meal for an undeserving stranger. 

Halfway through washing your face, you heard your oven timer go off. You completely forgot about the pizza you had made in a rush for you and your date to share. Pulling it out of the oven with a small sigh, you couldn’t help but stare at the unopened bottle of wine on the counter. It would’ve been entirely too easy for you to just get drunk, eat the entire pizza, and cry yourself to sleep afterwards, but a tiny voice inside the back of your mind told you to invite your cute neighbor over instead — even if he was a lot older than you. Would that be so bad? 

The phone only rang for a second before Yunho picked up. “Y/N, hey! What’s up?” Was it uncouth to answer right away or to let it ring for a while longer? He wasn’t sure what the younger crowd preferred nowadays, but he was sure that he wouldn’t let an opportunity to chat with his pretty neighbor slip away. 

“Hey, Yunho!” you began, rolling a metal slicer through the thick crust of your homemade pizza. Your neighbor always sounded so happy when you called him. You could practically hear his imaginary tail wagging. Was he like this with everyone? “What are you up to?”

Yunho’s voice sounded a bit farther away and somewhat strained when he spoke again. “Just fixing up my garden. Oh! My honeysuckles finally bloomed!”

“Already? That’s great!” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He was so cute. “So, uh, long story short, my date canceled on me after I made us pizza...There’s wine too.” You bit into your bottom lip, wondering just how desperate you were about to sound. 

“What a dickhead. Why would anyone cancel on you? I mean, you’re so–” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “Cool, you know…” Yunho set his gardening trowel down onto the bed of dirt below in favor of bonking himself lightly on the side of the head. 

“Thanks, Yun,” you giggled, curling a lock of hair around your finger. You swallowed down your doubt before it overtook you. “Did you wanna, like…hang out?”

Maybe Yunho didn’t fumble, after all. “I’d love to, Y/N.” He looked at the newly bloomed flowers sitting in front of him. It was fate. “I’ll be right over, okay? Wait for me~” 

“See you~” you replied, matching his tone. Once you hung up, you looked down at the comfy hoodie and sleep shorts you had slipped into. You only had a few seconds to wonder if you should change or not before your doorbell rang. 

Yunho’s honey brown eyes widened upon seeing you, his cheeks growing warm. “H-hey, Y/N!” He nervously shuffled his feet, his scuffed Converse squeaking against the rubber doormat. He moved his arm in an odd way; it was clear he was holding something behind his back. 

“I know it’s not technically a date, but I thought I should bring you something…” 

Yunho held out a bouquet of the freshly picked honeysuckles, except now they were delicately tied together with some pretty lace. You looked down at them in disbelief, gently taking them into your arms. Tears threatened to leave your eyes when you tilted your head back up to meet Yunho’s gentle gaze. “Thank you so much…I…Are you an angel?” 

A big cheesy smile spread across Yunho’s face. “Just your friendly neighborhood gardener.” 

And with that, you moved aside to let him in, mirroring Yunho’s infectious smile.

-

“Nice place,” Yunho approved in an oddly soft tone, looking around your cozy living room. Taking a sip of wine, he meandered over to your impressive media cabinet, scanning all the various movies that neatly lined the shelf. “I haven’t seen a DVD in ages…” He turned his head to look at you, his eyes crinkled with amusement. “I didn’t know you were old school.” 

You let out a small snicker, pulling out one of the DVDs to run a finger along the smooth edges. “I’ve always preferred physical copies. Digital just isn’t the same…” You met his wholehearted gaze, your heart skipping a beat. “You know…?” You were so close to him, you were able to notice his pronounced smile lines as soon as his lips curled up. 

“You’re speaking my language, kiddo.” Yunho took another sip from his glass, looking off to the side. He shook his head absentmindedly, reminiscing about something. “Everything was so much better in the early 90s…” 

You pouted, gently elbowing him through his shirt. “Hey, I wasn’t even born yet.” 

“Oh, that’s right.” He took in a sharp breath, holding it for a second. Once he let it out, he just about deflated like a balloon. “I’m old…aren’t I?” 

Scoffing, you mindlessly flipped the DVD around in your hands. “We’re all aging.” You hoped you weren’t looking too deeply into his eyes. “Why does it matter what step you’re at?” 

Yunho was captivated. He hadn’t felt this kind of acceptance in quite some time. “I’ll try to think of it like that,” he voiced softly, reaching up to pat the top of your head. “Thank you.” 

A simple head pat from your seasoned neighbor shouldn’t have affected you the way it did, heat creeping up on your cheeks, the DVD creaking in protest inside your tight grasp. “Y-you better.” 

“O-oh?” Yunho was caught off guard by your bold words, surprised by his body’s immediate response to it. He slowly lowered his glass, trying to casually hide his half-chub from view. “I will then…” 

You tapped your finger rhythmically against the DVD, delighted with the sheepish look on the older man’s face. You wanted to attribute your growing confidence to the alcohol settling inside your stomach, but you knew you would’ve tested the waters either way. And with that, you reached all the way up to pat the top of his head. “Good.” 

There was an electric current of sorts lighting up the edges of Yunho’s brain — one that would spark sooner rather than later. Before he could say anything that might scare you off, he finally took a look at the DVD you had been holding. “Is…is that the original Spider-man?” 

“Thought you would never notice,” you giggled, his long fingers overlapping yours when you handed it to him. “I have one and two. Three doesn’t exist in my mind.”

Yunho was sure he met his perfect match. “We’re watching them,” Yunho decided for the both of you, his eyes widening with excitement. “Right now.” 

You leaned in a bit closer to him. “What are you waiting for? Put it in.” 

He followed suit, being drawn in like a magnet.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

-

It took finishing the cheap bottle of wine and movies together for you both to finally let totally loose around one another, though your matching flushed cheeks and sweaty palms weren’t a result of being tipsy. It was simply a side effect of being around each other. You were so engrossed with one another, that you didn’t even bother turning the TV off, simply letting the DVD icon freely bounce into each corner of the screen for what seemed like hours. 

Yunho couldn’t quite finish chewing the crust of his slice of cold pizza before he explained with his mouth full, “Peter knowingly killed Harry’s father. Harry following in the footsteps of his dad and becoming the Green Goblin was inevitable.” 

“You having delusional takes was inevitable,” you shot back, getting so worked up over this nonsensical argument that you almost choked on your own frozen pizza. “I should’ve known that as soon as you said Spider-man 2 was mid.” 

Yunho pressed closer to you, gently reaching up to squish your cheeks together. “Aww, someone’s grumpy.” 

Your body was beginning to overheat. He was so close to you, and he smelled so good, fresh like cool eucalyptus, and warm like burning sage. You almost couldn’t focus on getting under your older neighbor’s skin, your words coming out a bit garbled when you provoked him, “Harry was a terrible Venom, by the way.” 

Yunho let out a sharp, offended gasp. “You take that back!” he demanded jokingly, pretending to lunge at you, his hands instead stopping short of touching your shoulders, his breath getting caught inside his throat when you decided to actually lunge back.

“Never!” It was surprisingly easy to take down someone who was almost twice the size of you, but you knew internally Yunho was letting it happen. You almost wished he would give you the same treatment. 

Yunho fell back against the couch cushion, his limbs sprawled out, except for one of his thighs, the one you were haphazardly sitting on. He began blocking your feeble attempts to tickle him, not putting a whole lot of effort into getting you off of his lap. “Admit it was peak cinema, will you?” He sounded out of breath, but not for the right reason. 

“Maybe if you admit I’m right,” you sighed out, not stopping your pursuit until you finally had his obnoxiously long body pinned underneath your significantly smaller one. Now straddling his hips, you closed your fingers around his wrists to keep him still. You were hunched over now, only a few inches away from Yunho’s reddened face, feeling him move against you, causing friction in between your thighs. You quickly bit into your bottom lip, your brows joining ever so slightly. Yunho wasn’t answering you, just looking up at you with his big glossy eyes. It was driving you crazy.

“Lemme hear you say it…” 

Yunho blew a few dyed dirty blond locks out of his view. Everything was moving so fast a second ago, and now, it felt like slow motion. He watched as your zip-up hoodie slipped down one of your shoulders, immediately distracted by your thighs once he readjusted his own. Your tiny shorts were riding up, leaving little to imagination. “You’re right,” your neighbor exhaled out, his soft breath hitting the bottom of your chin. 

Yunho sure had a big smile for someone who had just lost an argument, fake or not, and that’s when it hit you, or poked you, rather. You had been sitting directly on Yunho’s clothed cock, now feeling it throb against your exposed core through the thin material of your shorts. This sudden discovery could no longer go unnoticed. “That’s…what I thought,” you huffed, dragging your hips forward in a slow, methodical manner, drawing a long, airy moan out of your older neighbor. 

“I-if you do that, I’ll, nnngh–” Yunho tossed his head back into the couch, feeling your equally sweaty hands slipping off of his wrists, your palms pressing into his warm chest. His hands immediately moved to your hips like they belonged there, his fingers so long and slender that they touched at the small of your back. “This is what you wanted all along, huh? You should’ve said something, kiddo…” 

“Aren’t you the one who got hard five minutes into our date? Don’t think I didn’t notice,” you teased him back, trying to distract him from the fact that you were actively leaving a wet patch on Yunho’s tented pants. 

“So, it is a date,” the older man breathed out, squeezing the soft flesh of your hips in between his fingers from underneath your hoodie, purposely dragging you across his manhood, before staying still, like he was testing the waters. “Aren’t I a lucky man?” 

You just about melted from his sudden display of dominance over your body, now needing more, as though you were just introduced to a new drug. “Sh-show me…how lucky you are.” He waited silently below you, quirking his head to the side, before you realized. 

“Please.” 

“Good girl.” It seemed like his hips began to move without his permission, rolling them up into you, his movements disjointed and sloppy. Desperate. He was desperate for you, his lovely little neighbor, the one he had spent countless days and nights yearning for. “Fuck, is this okay…?” he still found himself asking you from underneath his breath, needing more confirmation, despite actively making you grind against him like it was going out of style. 

“Yeahh,” you gasped, just as you completely relinquished your feigned control, Yunho manually guiding your hips along his trapped, aching cock, the frantic pursuit of friction only fueling the already raging fires inside the both of you. “Need more, actually…” 

“More?” Each small sporadic moan he heard coming from above was like music to his ears, more and more arousal shooting through his heated body and straight into his cock. He truly couldn't take it much longer, unless he wanted to bust inside his jeans like a loser. “Tell me…Tell me what you need, baby…” 

Of course, your cute, seemingly innocent neighbor would be the type to make you ask for it. Your cheeks stung, especially now that he wouldn’t stop trying to catch your wandering gaze. “Touch me, Yun...”

“Touch you…? Touch you where?” 

Chewing at your bottom lip, you pulled your tiny shorts up by the waistband, your pussy on full display for him.  “Here, please…” 

“Fuckin’ hell…” One of Yunho’s hands left your hips, gingerly pulling said shorts to the side to reveal your glistening cunt. Yunho had dreamt of this moment for ages, and now that he was finally living it, he was absolutely ready to give his all for the angel sitting on his lap. “Jesus Christ...All of you is so pretty...so perfect.” 

“I’m all yours,” you whispered, running your hands down his warm chest.

Yunho felt his brain short-circuiting in real time. “Fuck, you have no idea how crazy that makes me.” 

The man’s cock pulsed from underneath you, leading you to bite back a moan. “Show me.” 

“Then, sit on my face, angel.” 

Once you were angled above him, Yunho pulled the shorts you soaked up by the inseam, emphasizing the shape of your pussy for his own amusement. He rubbed the pads of his index and middle finger along your clothed lips, knowing he found your clit with his thumb when you let out a sharp gasp. “Right there, hm? Did I find your cute little clit, baby? 

“Uh-huh…” 

He rolled your clit around in slow, teasing circles. “Want me to find your hole next?” Your sheepish, yet eager nods only fueled Yunho’s already raving arousal. 

The unmistakable sound of fabric being ripped was registered by your senses first, before you watched your tiny torn pair of shorts disappear into the depths of the fluffy carpet beside the couch. The cold air that had hit your bare cunt was quickly replaced by your eager neighbor’s warm tongue. “Oh…!” 

Yunho greedily lapped up your arousal into his mouth, mapping out the entirety of your cunt with his lips and tongue, the bottom half of his face already shining with your wetness. The man eventually spread you open with two slender fingers, watching your hole flutter around nothing. “Found it…” He was so overcome with lust, that he sent a wad of spit into your cunt, before plugging you up with his tongue. 

“Yunho, oh my god–” You reached down to hold onto the sides of his head, your fingers curling around his dirty blond locks. 

It was when your hazy eyes met that Yunho began to tongue-fuck you in a vigorous manner, each and every impossibly wet sound your slick cunt made only furthering your neighbor’s desire to make you fall apart. He only ceased his worship to groan, “Fuck, do you get this goddamn wet for everyone?” 

Your thighs were starting to shake. You were close. “Just you, Yunho…” Now that the man was looking back up at you with those big puppy dog eyes, you couldn’t help but tug at his hair. “You look like you wanna say something, baby.” The small, uncharacteristically whiny moan he let out encouraged you to take matters into your own hands, rubbing your cunt along Yunho’s spread-out tongue, your puffy clit routinely bumping into his curved nose. He let out another pretty-sounding moan. It made you smile. “C’mon…use your words…” 

“Cum on my face, please,” he voiced urgently, his lips still pressed to your wet cunt. 

“Fuck, yeah, okay,” you gasped in agreement, only able to grind yourself across Yunho’s tongue a few more times, before he cemented his hands around your waist, forcefully bringing you down onto his mouth. 

Yunho couldn’t make out any of the words coming out of your mouth, too focused on the heavy moans you were letting out in between them. Your clit throbbed against his hot tongue, and once he licked down to your spasming hole, he felt the warm spray of your release hit his tongue. Savoring the taste of you on his swollen lips, he gazed up at you with pride. “That’s my girl.” 

With your legs shaking and your heart pounding, you climbed off of him, watching him sit up and lean back against the couch, his aching cock still trapped inside the confines of his pants. You couldn’t help but lick at your own lips. “Take it out, Yunho…”

Yunho obliged, hastily undoing his leather belt. His sizable cock smacked heavily into his abdomen upon release, leaving a trail of pre-cum behind on his t-shirt. A prominent vein traveled up from the base of his cock to the thick tip where it was an eye-catching shade of pink. It matched the flush on his cheeks and ears. 

Despite being confident about his size, there was a nervous glint in his eyes. “What do you think…?” 

“Pretty…” You were sure you were drooling. 

Chuckling in relief, Yunho patted one of his spread thighs. “Come here, princess. See how pretty it is up close.” 

And you did just that, perching yourself on top of Yunho’s lap like you belonged there. Yunho still couldn’t believe his luck. Not only did he have the privilege of rewatching his favorite movies with his pretty neighbor, but he somehow ended up with you on his cock. He was determined to make it worth your while. “You like being on top, huh?” 

“I just didn’t want to put all the hard work on you,” you pouted, gently running your finger around his tip to collect his arousal, giggling at the way he jolted against your touch. 

“Oh, because I’m like 20 years your senior? Think I can’t handle all this?” he asked under his breath, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass from either side. 

Mewing from his touch, you aloofly licked his pre-cum from your finger, making the man whine in response. “I think you should prove it, Yun,” you whispered near his lips, leaving a chaste kiss against them.  

Yunho’s thick tip entered you first, your cunt slowly stretching open to accommodate his size. “I’ll show you, baby…” Feeling you tense up against him, Yunho made sure he took his time with you, pushing into you inch by inch, diligently studying your face for any sign of discomfort. He did all of this, only for your greedy cunt to swallow up his cock to the hilt. 

You didn’t even know you could feel this full. You were positive he was inside your guts. “Yunho, fuck– it’s so big,” you gasped into his neck. A small puff of air hit the side of your flushed face. 

“You’re just tiny, sweetheart. You can’t help it,” he whispered against your skin, rubbing your lower back in gentle circles. His teeth nipped at your earlobe. “But, you can take it, yeah?” 

You gave him a small nod, but that wasn’t good enough for the man. He pressed his forehead into yours, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “I want to hear you say it, Y/N.” 

When he let out a small breath, you took one in, clutching the sides of his face. “I can take it, Yunho.” 

Yunho began to move before you had the chance to properly ride him, holding your soft hips, using them like handlebars. “Y/N, baby, you’re so tight…” Each thrust he made was purposeful, deep, like he wanted to reach the innermost part of you, and leave his mark there. You were so warm, so hot inside, the man was sure he was going to melt if he continued, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “I’m going to make you mine…” 

You choked out a moan, tightening your grip around him. 

“Yeah?” His lips ghosted along your jaw. “That’s what you want?” 

“Please,” you begged Yunho, digging your nails into his back. “Make me yours.”

Yunho simply couldn’t hold himself back any longer, not while he had you like putty in his arms, your body limp, completely and utterly at his mercy. “There we go, baby…Don’t worry that pretty head about anything, just focus on this cock.” And he made sure you felt each and every inch of it, figuring he was hitting your cervix from the way you gasped for air like there was none left. 

“Fuck..!” you cried, delirious with pleasure. “I’ll cum, I’m gonna cum, Yunho, please, don’t stop–”

His hips matched the quick, wavered desperation of your voice, pounding himself in and out of your squelching cunt. “Fall apart for me, princess…Let me feel it…” He slipped his free hand between your heated bodies, giving your clit a few vigorous rubs with his calloused thumb. 

You couldn’t speak, simply opening your mouth to let out a soundless moan, your body jolting away from his touch. “That’s it…that’s it, my love, let go,” he sighed against your lips, his thumb still swiping over your sensitive clit, his throbbing length reaching places you never could without his help.

Just as your warmth spilled out of you, Yunho held you still within his firm grasp, his forehead resting against yours. He was almost completely out of breath, a few drops of sweat cascading along his temple. “Inside…?”

You nodded desperately. “Inside, please…” 

Yunho indulged in your mutual desire, pressing his hand down against your tummy to feel the space he took up inside you. He filled you to the brim with his hot white release, so much so that it spilled past your joined bodies and dripped out onto the couch. 

He managed to give you a small sheepish smile when your eyes met. “You’ll really be mine after this, won’t you, kiddo?” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, reaching up to caress his cheek. It was warm to the touch. “Good thing you live right next door.” 

© kitten4sannie, 2025.

[rafeslvbug]

rafe helping maybank!reader after an encounter with luke…

your sobbing into your brother’s shirt, burying your bloody face into him while his bruised arms hold you. he should’ve been there. should’ve come faster. should’ve helped you.

luke’s gone now, leaving behind the stench of alcohol and disappointment, jj scared him off. now, it was you two, and he needed help. he couldn’t do this alone, and as much as he hated it : he needed rafe.

his fingers dialled rafe’s number over the phone. it hung up. he tossed the phone onto the floor, grappling around for yours, the one rafe got you for your birthday, equipped with all that fancy face id stuff too. but that wouldn’t work while you were in this state. so he tapped in the passcode - rafe wouldn’t hang up on you.

and thankfully, he was right.

rafe picked up on the first ring. “hey baby?” his voice spoke through the phone, and jj held you tighter, holding the phone up to his ear.

“not her rafe, you need to come over,” he says, trying to keep his voice as steady as he can, ignoring every ache in his body.

“jj– why the fuck d’you have her phone?”

“not now asshole, get over here, she’s beaten, badly, if you care about her i– she needs your help,” he sighs, unsure if he’s annoyed or relieved that for once in his life, jj isn’t the person you need, or can solely rely on.

rafe hangs up after a firm, “coming.” the car that pulls up, looks incredibly out of place on the cut, but jj doesn’t question it. he knows it’s rafe.

getting up, he supports you against the couch, heading to the door and opening it for rafe who doesn’t even spare him a glance, pushing past to you. jj says nothing, looks back at you sorrowfully, knows rafe has got it handled and mutters, “i’ve gotta take care of somethin’, you okay with her?”

“always,” rafe nods, listening to the click of jj shutting the door.

then he’s knelt in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face to see the bruises blooming across your cheek, the blood running from the corner of your mouth and your red eyes. “holy..baby d’you need to get to a hospital?” he asks concerned, cupping your cheeks gently, trying not to press down on your injuries.

only managing a shake of your head, unable to speak through the sobs bubbling at your throat, rafe pulls you in, arms wrapping around your huddled form and tucking you under his chest. rafe softly rocks you, pressing kisses into your hair until you’ve settled and the sobs you unleashed have been subsided.

it’s safe, in his arms. a type of safety you’ve never felt unless with the pogues, but this is far more intimate. you could fall asleep here, live in the comfort of him, his gentle words and reassurances.

before you know it, he’s carefully lifting you into his arms, carrying you to the car and settling you in. he drives slow, careful even though he wants to speed and get to tannyhill as fast as he can. when he does get there, he makes a beeline for his bedroom, helping you to wash off after you feel better. his arms support you, fingers lingering over each and every bruise, across your stomach and arms, the blood running down you.

he helps you change into his hoodie and sweatpants, tucking you into his bed even if it’s broad daylight. you’re not going to move from there if he can say anything about it. having refrained from pushing you to speak this whole time, he now sat next to you, stroking back your hair and murmuring, “baby..you okay to talk?”

sniffling, you nod, “yeah.”

“how d’you feel? does it still hurt?”

“mhm,” you hum.

rafe’s brows pinch together, being able to do nothing other than you bring you into his arms again, delicately kissing the bruise across your cheek.

“don’t go back there again.”

he says it so simply. whispered into your hair, like an order over a suggestion. don’t go back, as if it was that easy.

“stay with me,” he murmurs, down heartened when you shake your head against him.

“i can’t.”

“why not?” he pulls back an inch to see your face properly, the tears already beginning to pool at your eyes which he quickly brushes away.

“i couldn’t leave jj an–“

“jj’s got john b. he stays there most the time, you said it yourself once. just stay with me, you’re safer here.”

you sink your teeth into your lip, holding back tears and trembles. “i’ll talk to jj first,” you whisper, and rafe nods, before pressing a kiss to your head and muttering something about leaving to get medicine and food.

when he was gone, you stared at the ceiling of his room, buried in his blankets and as much as you don’t want to leave jj, you don’t want to leave this bed either.

[graceful-ashes]

Hen and Chimney casually mentioned that Eddie doesn't get flustered. Buck who's sat nearby on his phone doesn't even look up when he offhandedly says 'Yeah, he does.' Hen and Chim look at him dubiously.

'When?' Chim asks.

Buck looks up, now. 'Like all the time.'

'Name one time' Chim challenges.

'I'm with Chim on this one. I've never really seen Eddie flustered.'

Now Buck is the one looking dubious. 'Um, like when...uh...' His mind suddenly goes blank.

'See. You can't even give an example.' Chim gloats.

'Hey, no that's not fair. You put me on the spot.' Buck argues. 'He...like yesterday! He made me a coffee and said he'd already put sugar in it, yeah? And I said that's so sweet of you. And he blushed!'

'Are you sure he was blushing.' Hen asks clearly not buying it.

'Yeah, maybe he was just warm.' Chim counters.

'I'm telling you, he blushed!' Buck exclaims.

Hen and Chimney continue to look at him sceptically.

'Prove it.' Chimney challenges

'What?'

'Prove. It.' Chimney grins.

Buck just stares in disbelief for a moment before he caves. 'Alright, fine. I'll prove it. I'll get him flustered and you can see for yourself.'

This is how Buck ends up making a fool of himself later in the day when they're just finishing up on a call and Eddie is just frowning at him, confused, not at all effected by Bucks lame attempt to get him flustered.

Buck walks back towards Hen and Chimney in defeat. 'We're out on a call, he probably just has his guard up.' Buck defends.

'Uh huh.' is Hen's response to that. Chimney just snaps his gum, grinning.

Buck attempts a cheesy one liner when they're back at the firehouse. This earns him a part way baffled and part way amused chuckle from Eddie when he responds with 'Alright.' looking to Chim and Hen with an ~Are you seeing this?~ expression. Hen and Chim just hide their amusement behind their mugs.

Buck tries a few more times before giving up.

'Fine. You guys were right. Eddie is unflappable. I clearly don't know what I was talking about.'

'Hey, at least it was fun to watch you try.' Chimney teases. Hen smiles in amusement.

And that was that until much later on when Buck is cooking dinner and Eddie is helping. Buck comes up behind Eddie to reach for something over his shoulder and without thinking says 'Man, you smell good!' He turns his head just shy of pressing his nose to Eddie's neck. 'What is that?'

The spatula in Eddie's hand clatters to the floor and in his panic to attempt to catch it he elbows over the salt shaker. A deep red creeps up his neck and settles in his cheeks as he rights the salt shaker. He clears his throat. 'Uh, it's, uh ,the cologne you...um got me for my birthday last year.' Eddie attempts to compose himself and bends down to pick up the spatula.

'Really?' Buck asks surprised and oblivious to Eddie's flustered state leans in for another whiff. There's a THWACK sound and Eddie winces as pain blooms in his knee from where he knocked it against the counter.

Hen and Chimney are staring slack jawed from the couch.

'You were right.' Chimney admits, shell shocked.

'Huh?' Buck lifts his head to look at Chimney and Hen. Eddie also snapping his attention in their direction.

'He does get flustered. So very flustered.' Chim says in a daze. 'Not unflappable. Not unflappable at all...'

Eddie frowns in complete bafflement, his face still beet red. 'What?'

[becertainlust]

BIRTHDAY SUIT | Bakugo Katsuki

synopsis: Bakugo never made a big deal about birthdays—just another day in his book. But you're not letting this one slide. As his partner, you know better than anyone that under that explosive exterior lies a man who deserves to be worshipped. And tonight, that’s exactly what you plan to do. Dressed in nothing but a gift-wrapped surprise, you give him a present no one else ever could—you.

content: smut, shameless smut, established relationship, lingerie sex, birthday sex, reader takes the reins, blowjob, sloppy, cowgirl , orgasm,

Bakugo never cared about birthdays. For once, he'd let you celebrate him.

No grumbles, no sarcastic muttering under his breath about “dumb-ass traditions” or “waste of time.” No disappearing off to train. No flinching when his friends shouted “Happy Birthday, Katsuki!”

He actually stayed. Enjoyed it.

The apartment had been buzzing earlier with close friends, laughter, drinks, and too many snacks. But now, it was just you and him. The glow of warm lights filled the room, soft music playing low from the speaker. The scent of buttercream and spiced candles lingered in the air.

“Sit,” you said, nudging him down onto the couch.

He dropped onto it with a tired, satisfied huff, one arm slung over the backrest as he watched you crouch beside the small stack of gifts left on the coffee table.

“Ya didn’t have to do all this, y’know,” he muttered. “Just havin’ you around is—”

“Shut up,” you smirked, passing him the first box. “You can get sappy after we’re done with presents.”

He rolled his eyes, but the blush on his ears gave him away.

One by one, he opened them. A couple of gag gifts from Kaminari, a surprisingly thoughtful book from Todoroki, custom gloves from Kirishima. A shirt from you he’d side-eyed in a store window a few weeks ago but pretended not to like. He’d mumbled, “Not bad,” when he saw it then—but the way he smiled when he saw it again tonight? That soft, flickering look in his eyes?

Yeah. He remembered.

But the last gift made him still.

He turned the box in his hand like he didn’t quite recognize it, even though you knew he did. You watched his fingers move slower—more careful. He lifted the lid and saw it:

A first edition, limited-run All Might training journal.

Something he’d mentioned in passing once during a midnight walk months ago. Something he said he always wanted but could never find. He stared at it in silence, thumb brushing over the embossed edges.

“…You remembered that?” he asked, voice suddenly quieter. His eyes lifted to yours.

You smiled gently. “Of course I did.”

Bakugo swallowed hard, cheeks warming up in a way that had your heart blooming in your chest. “You’re insane,” he muttered. “You know that?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “A little.”

He blinked hard, then cleared his throat.

“Alright, alright—cake. Let’s get this over with before I start feelin’ like a damn Hallmark card.”

You brought over the cake, candles already lit, your face glowing in the soft flicker as you sang the most off-key, dramatic “Happy Birthday” you could manage. He groaned, but he didn’t stop you.

He blew out the candles.

You sliced two pieces, handed him a fork… then stole it right back.

“Say ah.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You really gonna hand feed me right now?”

“Our wedding reenactment,” you smiled, lifting a bite to his mouth.

He opened it, still scowling—but barely—as you fed him a chunk of cake. He chewed, crimson eyes on you the whole time.

“Good?” you asked.

He gave a slow, appreciative nod. “Yeah. sweet.”

"that so..."

You leaned in, swiped a little frosting from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. His lips looked so soft, gilding your frosted coated thumb onto them, then kissed it off his lips, pressing your own into the softness of his. It started soft.

But when your lips brushed his again—slow, and achingly warm, and just a little longer—his hands naturally found your waist, pulling you closer until you were nearly in his lap. He kissed back, gentle but hungry, lips parting to taste more of you.

You murmured between kisses, breath hot against his mouth: “Birthday kiss.”

He blinked slowly, his lips still parted from the kiss, eyes dazed and focused only on you. His hands anchored warm on your waist, thumbs stroking slow, thoughtless circles into your skin through the thin fabric. His gaze trailed over your face—your lips, your flushed cheeks, your eyes so full of mischief and adoration.

“You’re everything,” he murmured, almost like it slipped out without permission.

You kissed the tip of his nose, giggling softly. “Thank you.”

And then?

His hold tightened. Just slightly. And he pulled you into his lap.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, voice thick and low, “I’m gonna forget we were takin’ things slow tonight.”

You leaned in, straddling him without hesitation, your thighs hugging his hips as you settled against him. His body welcomed you instantly, his hands sliding up your sides, fingertips dragging the fabric of your top slightly—like he wanted less of it between you.

“I was never planning to go slow, birthday boy” you whispered, brushing your lips just barely against his jaw. “especially tonight.”

His breath caught—sharp, audible. You felt it in his chest, the way it stuttered under your palms. His reaction was subtle, but every part of him twitched with anticipation: his hands, his legs beneath you, the slight lift of his hips like he was already imagining how this night would end.

“Got one more present for you,” you murmured into his ear. “The real one.”

Bakugo’s brows lifted, suspicious. “Thought that damn journal was the real one.”

You grinned, climbing off his lap for just a moment—enough to walk toward the bedroom with that sway you knew drove him wild.

He watched, chin propped on his hand, eyes darkening the second your fingers dipped beneath the hem of your top as you disappeared down the hall.

“Oi,” he called. “What kinda present needs you to change for it?”

You didn’t answer.

But when you reappeared in the doorway—lingerie clinging to your curves like a second skin, chosen with him in mind—Bakugo sat up so fast he nearly knocked the fork off the coffee table.

Your name left his mouth like a groan.

“Holy shit…”

You were wrapped in delicate black lace, the kind of thing he never thought he’d see outside a magazine, and even then—never on you. Never just for him.

His mind blanked.

No words, no witty comeback. Just the shape of you silhouetted in the soft golden light. The way the sheer material clung to your curves, catching every dip and swell like it had been tailored with him in mind. The way your thighs moved when you walked, slow and sure, like you knew what that sight alone was doing to him.

His mouth had gone dry.

And still, he sat back—frozen on the couch, like his body had been rooted to the spot. Only his eyes moved, dragging over you with almost painful reverence.

Your presence wasn't just seen. It was felt. In the sudden hush of the room. In the way the air itself seemed to shift as you crossed it. There was a softness to it—like watching a flame flicker behind glass. Dangerous, but so goddamn beautiful.

Something in his chest ached.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw you like this—wanting him like this. That wide-eyed, breath-stolen reaction always snuck up on him.

His gaze caught on your collarbones, then drifted lower—hesitating on the swell of your breasts barely veiled by lace, down the soft line of your stomach, until it settled between your legs, where the thin strip of fabric left far too little to the imagination.

The sight knocked the wind out of him.

One of his hands, resting uselessly on his thigh, curled into a fist. The other—he didn’t even realize—had wiped itself discreetly on his jeans, sweat clinging to his palm.

Not from nerves. No. Never that.

Except maybe this time, it was.

Because you were walking toward him now, hips rolling, eyes locked onto his, and he could feel his body respond before his brain had even caught up. His mouth parted. Breath shallowed.

God, the way you moved. Like you were pouring yourself into every step. Like you weren’t just walking to him—you were offering yourself.

It made his pulse stutter.

And when you climbed back into his lap, warm skin settling over the growing heat in his jeans, he couldn’t think. All he could do was feel. Your nails dragging against the nape of his neck in ghost trails feather-light, his body withered under the touch. Your perfume mingling with his senses what scent was that? and why cant he stop sniffing you.

"You smell really good baby...really good" his nose ghosted your neck, hips pulling you closer. Your thighs oh so soft to him, bracket him so warmly.

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

He just looked.

Admiration wasn’t something Bakugo handed out easily—not to friends, not to strangers, and definitely not out loud.

But he was looking at you now like you were everything. Like you were a dream made real. Like he didn’t know whether to kiss you, worship you, or fall to his knees for you.

He couldn’t stop drinking you in.

How had he gotten this lucky?

You kissed him again. Slowly, reverently. The kind of kiss that curled toes and short-circuited nerves. You would use a hand to pull him by the shirt, and when you pulled back just enough to murmur, “Happy birthday, Katsuki,” his lashes fluttered low, heat gathering in his face as he let the words sink in.

His breath hitched when your hands found his chest.

Just fingertips at first, dragging over the fabric of his shirt like you were memorizing him all over again. You didn’t rush—just let your palms glide across solid muscle, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as your thumbs brushed the edge of his ribs.

He was already warm under your touch. And you hadn’t even done anything yet.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss just beneath his jaw.

Then another—lower, slower. Your lips parted against his throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses in a trail that dipped down the curve of his neck. His skin twitched under each one, the breath in his lungs turning shallow, rough.

“who knew you’d do something like this,” he murmured, but the strain in his voice made it sound more like a will to give in than a tease.

You didn’t answer. Just smiled against his skin, your teeth grazing lightly before you sucked. Gently—just enough to make him feel it. And then again, lower. His hands tensed at your waist.

You tilted your head to kiss along the other side of his neck, scattering another series of soft hickies—like you were branding him in lace and affection.

A groan vibrated in his chest.

Your fingers slipped to the hem of his shirt. He didn’t resist. Didn’t even move.

He just watched you. Quiet. Obedient in a way only you got to see.

You peeled his shirt up, inch by inch, revealing the planes of his stomach—warm, lightly flushed, his abs tightening beneath your gaze. You kissed his chest slowly as you exposed it, lips brushing across firm muscle, leaving kisses that lingered just a little too long.

You didn’t break eye contact.

Not once.

Even as you sank further down, mouth worshipping the path beneath his sternum. Even as your nails lightly scratched up his sides, drawing out a low hiss from between his clenched teeth.

His body was buzzing now—caught between restraint and surrender.

And it was beautiful to watch him come undone like this. Strong and scarred and still, somehow, soft for you.

His head tipped back slightly, jaw clenched, one hand gripping your hip while the other fisted into the couch cushion. His thighs flexed beneath your hands.

“Fuck,” he muttered, the word half breath, half plea.

You hummed softly, letting your lips hover just above his waistband.

“You’re warm,” you whispered, voice sultry and low, like you were letting him in on a secret. “All over.”

And he was.

Buzzing. Flushed. Waiting.

With his chest bare, his breathing ragged, and his eyes glassy with anticipation—he looked up at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Your lips hovered just above the waistband of his sweats, breath brushing against the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath the fabric. The muscles in his abdomen tensed again.

And still—you didn’t touch him where he wanted you to. Not yet. Instead, you lifted your gaze, locking eyes with him as your mouth curved in the faintest, knowing smirk. There was power in the way he was watching you. Tension in the way his thighs shifted restlessly beneath yours. Every inch of him buzzed. For you.

“Can I take these off Kats?” you asked, voice honey-slow.

Bakugo grunted, half-dazed. “… yeah.”

I mean what the hell were you asking him. If anything he just wanted on him immediately but it was all for you to watch him be a completely different person He sounded so obedient watching every moment like a patient puppy. His beautiful crimson eyes shimmering under the soft glow of the room.

Your fingers dipped under the waistband and dragged it down slow. The fabric caught on the hardened outline of him, and he hissed through his teeth as you freed him from the restraint.

His cock sprang up, flushed and heavy, already leaking at the tip. His hips twitched upward involuntarily, like his body was pleading before his mouth could catch up.

You made a sound of appreciation in the back of your throat—soft, reverent—before leaning in to press another kiss, just above the base. Your tongue flicked out, tasting the warm skin there. "You want me this much suki"

His whole body shuddered.

“Y-you're really gonna take your time with this, huh?” he muttered, voice rough, but low with awe.

You didn’t answer.

You just looked up again, lips parted, pupils blown, hands pressing to his thighs to steady him—before licking a slow, flat stripe from the base to the tip.

Bakugo cursed under his breath, his hand flying to the back of your head on instinct—but it never pushed, never forced. Just tangled in your hair, holding on for dear life.

Your mouth closed around him, warm and wet and unforgiving.

And he melted.

His head tipped back, jaw slack, a ragged moan slipping past his lips. You sucked him down slow—sloppy and deep—letting your tongue trace every sensitive vein, letting your spit drip down over your hand as you worked the base.

He was a mess.

Every time you hollowed your cheeks and sank lower, his thighs tensed. His breath hitched. His hips jerked upward before he caught himself, groaning through clenched teeth.

"Fuck... baby… you—goddamn."

You pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, then sank down again, deeper this time.

And he twitched in your mouth, body locking up as you moaned around him.

The sound went straight to his spine—he was pulsing now, barely holding on.

When you pulled off with a wet pop, spit connecting your lips to him in a string, you wiped your mouth slowly with the back of your hand, lips swollen, eyes hooded.

“Wanna ride you,” you whispered, climbing back up into his lap. “Can I?”

Bakugo was panting. Eyes glassy. Completely undone.

He swallowed hard, leaning into your chest to whisper "Please.”

You hovered over him, your hair framing your face so bewitchingly. You lined him up with your entrance, already soaked and pulsing for him. And as you sank down, inch by inch, his eyes rolled back and his hands grabbed your hips like he needed something to anchor him to this earth.

You moaned low as he stretched you open.

“Shit—so full,” you breathed, resting your palms on his chest.

“Look at me,” he rasped, voice trembling. “Wanna see your face.”

You did. And when your eyes met his—when he saw the way you looked at him, like he was the only one you ever wanted—his whole expression softened.

His hands caressed up your waist, slow, reverent.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he whispered, voice shaking.

You didn’t move right away.

Not really.

Instead, you hovered just above him, your entrance brushing the slick, sensitive head of his cock—barely letting him in, just enough to tease. Just enough to let him feel the heat of you. Your thighs flexed slightly, hips rolling in slow, agonizing circles that dragged your soaked folds over the tip again and again.

A soft, wet sound filled the space between you. Your juices clung to him, thick and sticky, smearing across his shaft with every grind.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head thunking back against the couch. “You’re—fuckin’ killin’ me.”

You smirked, gaze flicking up to watch him.

And god… the way he looked right now? His chest rising with every ragged breath, his lip bitten raw, his knuckles white where he clutched your hips. Every muscle in his thighs was trembling beneath you. Twitching with the restraint it took not to thrust up and bury himself in you.

You leaned forward, your chest brushing his while your hips stayed in motion—rocking slowly, teasing him with slick, hot friction.

“I thought this was your birthday,” you purred into his ear. “Shouldn’t I be giving you what you want?”

Bakugo grit his teeth, his jaw tight with tension.

“I do want this,” he growled. “You drivin’ me fuckin’ insane like this—teasin’ me—makin’ me feel like I’m gonna explode just from the tip—shit…”

You giggled, soft and wicked, and sat back just enough for him to watch.

One of your hands reached between you, guiding him so the head rested right at your entrance again. You gave a few slow bounces—just the tip sliding in and out, each time making him curse louder.

“S-shit! Baby—fuck—fuck, just let me in—” His voice cracked, his fingers digging into your skin like he was about to lose it.

You finally pressed your hips down a little more, letting him sink in halfway.

His mouth fell open, a deep, guttural curse ripping out of him. His head snapped forward to look at where you were taking him in, flushed and wide-eyed.

And you just smiled at the desperation in his gaze.

“are you feeling good baby,” you whispered, dragging your nails lightly down his chest.

“God—yes—fuck yes,” he hissed, eyes fluttering as you dropped down another inch. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. You always do. Always…”

You leaned in again, letting your breasts press to his chest as you kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Then you better hold on,” you whispered, breath hot, “because I’m not gonna stop until you’re a mess for me.”

And with that, you finally sank down fully. All the way. His entire body jerked like he’d been electrocuted.

He let out a strangled sound—somewhere between a moan and a gasp—his head rolling back, hands gripping your ass like he was holding onto sanity itself.

You didn’t move for a moment.

Just stayed there, so full of him, clenching around him until he twitched helplessly inside you. And then—slowly, sinfully—you started to ride.

Your hips began to move again—slow, like honey melting in warm sun, like a wave building over time until it crashes. You circled them, let your walls flutter around him just to feel the way he shuddered beneath you. His eyes opened halfway, heavy-lidded and glazed, following every sensual sway of your body like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

And to him—it was.

“Katsuki…” you whispered, your palms gliding up his abdomen. “You’re so deep.”

A sharp breath hissed between his teeth. He looked like he was trying to hold something back, but his hips bucked once—shallow, needy. You kept your pace measured, deliberate, grinding down into him with that same velvet friction that made his head roll back again.

“Shit,” he groaned, the sound low and desperate. His hands were clutching at your waist now, not to guide, but to ground himself. “You’re squeezin’ me so good, mmm"

You leaned down slowly, dragging your lips across his collarbone. Then lower—pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest, his nipple. As you moved, your body rolled into his, your rhythm never faltering, hips undulating in a steady, torturous rhythm.

Every time you sank down, he twitched inside you, groaning louder.

“I love the way you sound baby,” you whispered, licking the salt from his skin. “All desperate and sweet. My perfect birthday boy.”

He looked at you like he’d melt.

One of his hands slipped up your back, tangled into your hair, tugging lightly as you nuzzled his neck. You licked a stripe just beneath his ear, then suckled gently at his skin, your teeth dragging slightly—leaving soft, loving hickeys along his neck and collar.

And every one had him groaning, his cock jerking inside you.

“Gonna mark you up tonight,” you murmured. “So everyone knows who you belong to.”

“I already do,” he rasped, voice nearly broken, “fuckin’ been yours.”

You smiled into his skin and sat back again, palms braced against his chest as you began to bounce now—slow, deep, full bounces that had him clenching his jaw and moaning through his teeth. His abs flexed beneath your hands. His hands gripped your hips tighter.

Your name left his lips like a prayer.

Your hips found a rhythm—delicious, sticky, sinful—and the way he filled you, the way he responded to every little grind, made your legs start to tremble.

He felt it. His hands slid down to cup your ass again, helping support your movements as he watched you from beneath heavy lashes.

“Baby,” he breathed. “You’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me come—just like this?”

You leaned forward again, kissed him deep, then pulled back just enough to whisper:

“Yes. Inside. Don’t hold back. I want you to come just like this.”

He let out a wrecked moan, his hips finally thrusting up to meet yours, matching your rhythm.

Faster now.

Deeper.

You clung to his shoulders, your mouth falling open as the coil inside you tightened and tightened—

And then he gasped—eyes rolling to close, mouth open and his cock twitching violently inside you as he spilled, deep and thick and hot, fingers bruising your hips while he cursed your name like a confession.

You didn’t stop.

Not even then.

Still slow. Still steady. Still riding out every aftershock as he moaned beneath you, overstimulated and undone. His eyes fluttered open, glassy and soft as they met yours. His hair stuck to his forehead. His chest heaved. His hands slid up your spine, arms curling around you as he held you close.

Your chest heaved against his, his heart pounding against your ribcage like a war drum. He was still buried deep, twitching, oversensitive—but you didn’t move. You just cradled his face, tilted it up so he had no choice but to look at you.

“Listen to you,” you whispered, voice sultry and sweet as sin. “Mouth full of curses… all because I couldn’t help creamin’ all over this fat cock.”

Bakugo groaned through clenched teeth, face flushed and jaw tight like he was holding onto the last thread of sanity.

“You heard it, didn’t you?” you murmured, grinding just enough to make him jolt, to let another wet, obscene squelch fill the space between you. “God, the noise we made—bet our neighbors think I was drowning in it.”

He groaned louder, head falling back against the couch.

You leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth, slow and lingering, then whispered, “Soaked you, Katsuki. You feel how messy I made you? Look at your lap—look at what you did to me.”

He peeked down—eyes glassy—and let out another hoarse, broken curse when he saw the slick still glistening between your thighs, watching how you both were still connected before you lift your hips to show him, with such a sly smile it did something to him, watching his cum dripping slowly out of you onto him.

You guided yourself back in, rocking your hips again, so delicately, and he twitched inside you, helpless. His whole body shivered with a groan, his head collapsing on your shoulder "fuck enough"

You grinned. “You liked it when I sat there and shook my ass on it, didn’t you? Teasin’ you right on the tip ‘til you were cussin’ like you were about to lose your damn mind, yeah?” you grind.

“You’re—fuckin’ evil,” he gasped, fingers twitching against your waist.

You kissed his jawline this time, biting lightly just below his ear. His hands gripped you tighter again, like he was about to flip the script—but he was still spent, still weak from how you dropped your ass on him, He just held you there instead, breathing ragged, letting you purr filth against his skin.

"A little"

[sweetiechenle]

reading between the lines ✦ jeno

pairing: collegestudent!literatureprodigy!jeno x afab!collegestudent!scienceandmathgenius!reader

summary: jeno was the biggest problem you've ever had to solve, but for him you weren't quite an open book either.

w.c: 9.4k

warnings: mdni 18+, MATH, i did so much research i feel like i need to cite my sources, thank you quizlet, angst, hurt and comfort, frenemies to lovers, fluff, jeno and y/n argue a lot and yell at each other, teasing, misunderstandings, YEARNING, kissing, make-ups and confessions, plot WITH porn, love making very intimate, hard with feelings and refuse to listen to each other, unprotected sex (i better not catch y'all doing this), praising, crying, begging, groveling, pet names (baby), oral (f receiving), creampie (YUM), softdomtop!jeno (just as god intended), crack/humor, scientific talk because smart (i never took bio in college), if i forgot anything pls lmk. reblogs and feedback appreciated ♡ fiction ≠ reality. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JENO!!!

‘WHAT’ you gasped, not noticing you had barked it out until everyone turned around and glared at you.

‘i’m sorry?...’ your professor had stopped everyone to bring attention back, she gave you a quizzical look, ‘is there a problem?’

you shook your head, still surprised by your sudden outburst, ‘n-no, i apologize’ you hung your head in shame, red blooming on your cheeks from embarrassment. you had been dreading today, your world literature 1 professor had told you all a week ago that you would be paired up with a partner for your first project. your major in biology and minor in actuarial mathematics required some literature classes to help with ‘scientific writing and understanding’ as your advisor put it. so you figured world literature 1 was the easiest choice, it turned out to actually be hell on earth. your weakest subject was english and literature, you were never a reader growing up unless it was about different sciences, but you always opted for documentaries and videos than reading. growing up, you’d always dread english class, anxiously waiting for whatever science and math class you could have next.

when you tell people that your favorite subject is math and then science they would laugh and usually end it with an ‘i wish’, that was your english and history, you wish you could understand it better, but it always seemed impossible. what you were least expecting was getting paired with the best literature student you knew, jeno. he annoyed you at times, acting like a pretentious asshole going around and quoting shakespeare and some other century-dead author. when you went and quoted pythagroas near him it was now apparently a problem, you two bickered back and forth in class during group introductions about greek philosophers for almost an hour, debating if aristotle was more of a math genius or a linguistics expert.

after the heated discussion, jeno told you ‘i love a good debate, you have some crazy opinions though’ he ended up giving you his phone number. it was only the first week of classes, your first ‘friend’(?), you texted him that night, but no response came. the next week you were struggling with questions your professor had given you all to go with a reading.

you texted jeno:

‘hey is this correct? *PICTURE ATTACHED*

his response chimed on your phone five minutes later:

‘no’

and that was the only response you got, no help, no explanation, you didn’t even know what was wrong with your answer to begin with. fuck this, you ended up calling him, to your surprise he answered with a ‘what?’

you didn’t mean to blow up on him, but it just came out, ‘why can’t you be nice to me for one second and help me with this student homework?’

he sighed, making your ear vibrate with the sound, ‘take back what you said and i’ll help you’

you grumbled but obliged, ‘this homework and reading is not stupid, now please help me’

you guys ended up talking on the phone for almost two hours, discussing different themes from the reading, mostly arguing about who was right, but in the end jeno helped you get answers that were good enough. he talked you through the questions and the actual themes of the reading, the elements, and showed you how to better analysis pieces of literature. you were eternally grateful but absolutely mortified at the same time.

after that phone call, you were psyched, finally finding someone that could help you pass. you were always the person in math classes that everyone went to, you didn’t have to be that person for others anymore. although you remember all the emotional baggage and difficulty when trying to help others study and understand formulas, you wouldn’t ask much of jeno, only when you really needed it.

two weeks ago you found him in the library, doing homework with books scattered around him. the first thing you noticed were glasses that he had never worn before, big frames making his eyes look much bigger in such a cute way. you figured if you asked he wouldn’t mind if you joined him, and you figured that if you asked in an even nicer way, he could help you with the literature homework.

‘hey jeno!’ you greeted him, walking up to his table, he looked up, pink lips still in a straight line, ‘would you mind if i joined you?’

‘i guess not’ he shrugged and moved some of his books out of the way for you, now sitting across from him you smiled slightly and got out your own homework. abstract algebra was your favorite class so far this semester, you never thought getting homework would make you so giddy. you couldn’t believe some people found it excruciating, while it was just a ‘fun activity’ for you. you and jeno continue work in silence, you would steal glances every once in a while, his eyes scanning over the paper as he scribbled down notes and highlight sentences. eyebrows knitting together and whispering out words in order to analyze everything perfectly. you thought it was cute, his lips would curl up into a smile after every question got answered. sitting in front of him, you could see the perfect slope of his nose, his broad shoulders slouched as he leaned into the desk, his large hand brushing his black hair back sporadically. the golden ratio had nothing on him.

not long after the trance jeno left you in, you finished your math homework and now it was time for your enemy: literature. you looked up and glanced at jeno who was writing notes down, ‘hey’ he lifted his head, ‘do you think you could help me with this?’ you motioned down to the paper in front of you, he followed and noticed your blank page compared to his one that was filled.

‘did you even try?’ he questioned, ‘it looks like you haven’t even started’

‘well’ you started with a sheepish smile, ‘i did do the reading, but i could barely understand any of it’

he sighed, his hands reaching under his glasses so he could rub his eyes, ‘okay, and what part did you not understand?’

you grabbed your packet of papers and flipped until you found the sentence, reading out loud, ‘his sense of her inferiority—of its being a degradation—of the family obstacles which judgment had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit’, you looked up at him, offering the best pleading eyes you could muster.

he slightly rolled his eyes, ‘so, basically darcy should put away his pride of being in a higher ranking than elizabeth, but he cares more about her status than love. even while he is proposing, he still looks down on elizabeth and wants her to feel grateful that he is even considering her as a wife’

‘oh, i never thought of it that way’ you mumbled, looking down at your paper again.

‘don’t they teach you stuff like this in high school? god, i fear for your grade when we actually have to read and analyze a whole book and not just passages for exercises’

the sentence was a stab to the heart, taken aback you said nothing as shame burned through your body. growing up you’d have teachers, friends, and your parents comment on your lack of understanding for english and literature, but you’ve never heard a remark like this. it cut deep, you opened and closed your mouth, unable to give an actual response, incapable of making any snide comeback, you gathered your things, got up and walked away from him. before he started to see the tears that made its way down your face.

you avoided jeno as much as you could, you sat nowhere near him in your shared class, never looked in his direction in the courtyard and started taking different routes to other classes. it was working out great for the most part, that was until he had transferred into your biology ‘unity of life’ class three weeks into the semester, at the very last minute of course. rumors were going around that a lot of students had transferred out of his previous one due to it ‘being too hard’ and that the professor ‘was a nightmare’ and he needed a natural science requirement for his major, secondary education if you could remember correctly.

seeing him walk through the door of one of your favorite classes was a different type of personal hell, and you were having a great day so far. you softly groaned, trying to resist the urge to roll your eyes in annoyance. your desk partner seemed to catch on, jaemin turned to you, ‘whats wrong? forgot to do last nights homework?’

you turned towards him, ‘never, i was so excited for this assignment, i finished all the questions as soon as i got home… it’s just… that guy, the one who just walked in’ you glanced back to his lab table, jaemin followed with his eyes, ‘i’m in his literature class and he’s nothing but an egomaniac, basically called me dumb for not understand some passage from a book’

the blond haired boy frowned, ‘he might know some books, but wait until he gets a taste of a real challenge, he transferred too late into the semester, he’s fucked’. your lips twitched up into a smile. you met jaemin the first day of class, introducing himself as a veterinarian science major with a minor in biology. you two became quick friends after you got him coffee one morning, you ended up with two cups after the cafe got your first order wrong. he was nothing but thankful, long discussions in class that lead to topics that never related to science. you got to know him pretty well, often texting and meeting up for study groups with other students from class, you both always paired up in class whenever prompted.

‘that’s fair, would be satisfying to watch him struggle’ you whispered.

he giggled, ‘god you sound like such a sadist’

the professor pulled up his notes as he prepared for the beginning of class, ‘takes one to know one’

you opened your notebook to the current lesson: the cytoskeleton. the professor went through the slideshow while you happily took notes on cells and its structure and stabilities within the cytoplasm. once the professor was done with the lecture, he started asking students questions, seeing if they were paying attention.

‘okay, now what is a delicate coil held together by hydrogen bonding between every fourth amino acid?’ he looks over his roster of students, ‘jeno! why don’t you answer this for us’

on cue, everyone turned to watch him, his head shot up from his notebook in surprise. he obviously looked unprepared, hands nervously pushing his bangs back. ‘oh… um, i don’t know i’m sorry professor, i transferred late into this class and still need to catch up’ his hair looked wild as the tips of his ears shone a bright red.

the poor professor sighed, ‘does anyone want to help jeno out?’

you immediately shot up your hand, ‘y/n?’

you smiled dramaticly, before another breathe you answered, ‘alpha helix’

‘yes, thats correct! great job y/n… now you all need to pay attention, this will be on our first exam coming up in two weeks’ he went on about amino acids and different elements. jaemin leaned into you, ‘nice’ he whispered, a smile on his face. yeah, that would show jeno what you could do.

you peeked back at jeno who whispered ‘two weeks!?’ to himself looking distressed, you felt a pang in your heart. perhaps it wasn’t fair, stuff like this was never taught in secondary school science classes, obviously he was going to struggle. you weren’t going to seek him out and offer help though, he knew science and arithmetic were your strong suits, it was his turn to come running, beg for forgiveness and ask for help.

speak of the asshole, and it shall fart, jeno texted you later that night.

‘hey…’ you scoffed, the audacity of this guy, you resisted the urge to text him back a ‘you should know this already right?’

you texted back a simple ‘what?’

he immediately answered, ‘do you think you could help me with this bio homework and maybe study together for the exam ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡’. shameless.

giving him the benefit of the doubt, you relented. maybe it was an off day for him, ‘i guess, meet me in the library tomorrow, and we’ll start’ he hearted the message and that was the end of the conversation.

you woke up early the next day, grabbing every notebook you had kept over the years that could help jeno. you texted him right after noon, ‘this is an all day affair, meet me in an hour and bring me a caramel macchiato. don’t be late, pride & prejudice wasn’t written in a day’ he liked the message as a response. you left your dorm and headed to the library, setting up a space for a long study session. jeno comes right on time, with two coffees in his hand.

he places the bigger cup down in front of you, ‘large caramel macchiato, with extra caramel, extra vanilla, and extra drizzle’

you look up at him and give him a modest smile, grabbing the drink and taking a sip from the straw and swirling the ice around the cup, ‘thank you, lets get started’ he nodded and pulled out the chair next to you and sat down.

you got out all your notebooks, his eyes widened making you giggle, ‘jesus christ dude, how many notebooks do you have for this class?’

‘well, not all of them are from this class, i brought some from previous classes that i think could help you’ you handed over a stack of notes, which he begrudgingly took. ‘okay, now lets get started…’

you two had spent hours discussing carbohydrates, cellulose, and enzymes. sometimes arguing back and forth about answers, ‘okay so, a system of membranes that modifies and packages proteins for export by the cell?’ you asked jeno as he flipped through his notes.

‘um… integrins?’ he answered, totally unsure of himself in the process.

you smiled, ‘not quite, its the golgi apparatus, integrins are cell-surface receptor proteins… crazy how you don’t remember this from basic biology classes…’ you mumbled the last part.

but of course he still caught it, ‘what was that?’

you shrugged your shoulders, ‘i mean we learn about cells and stuff in secondary school… everyone knows that the golgi apparatus is the packaging and distribution center of the cells, i mean everyone talks about how the mitochondria is the power house of the cell, is that the only thing you remember from biology?’

his eyebrows shot up in surprise, ‘oh? so that's what this is about?’ he smirked, ‘you’re still upset about what i said last week aren’t you?’

your gaze diverted from his line of sight, thankful you wore your hair down this morning so he wouldn’t see the pink burning on the tips of your ears. ‘no… i’m just saying’

‘...saying almost the same exact thing i said?’ jeno smiled, and his eyes turned into crescent moons, happy that he caught you in the act, ‘understandable… well, uh, if you help me, i’ll help you’

you crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at him, ‘not until you apologize, not everyone can be as good as you in literature’

‘okay, i’m sorry, you are a genius in math and science, now please agree’ jeno pleaded.

‘fine’ you answered.

another week passed and jeno finally felt comfortable taking the exam, on the other hand your literature professor started talking about a project for that class. jeno reassured you that he would help you in the best way he could, he helped you with literary analysis, notations, and rhetoric. you ended up getting an 85% percent on the most recent homework, excited to show jeno you made your way to the classroom.

‘so, jeno, i’ve been seeing you hanging out with that y/n person in our class’ you stopped before the entrance to the classroom, ‘they literally know nothing about literature and refuse to learn, how could you put yourself through that?’

‘oh, well, um, i don’t know, i’m just helping them with some stuff’ jeno answered. you peeked inside, he was with two other students, a girl and a boy, sitting together in a group.

‘must be pretty frustrating, i don’t know why they are even in this class, fucking moron, am i right?’ the girl responded and you could hear the others, but jeno, laugh.

you could feel your heart break as your mind begin to buzz. eyes watered, and you thought back to your discussion with jaemin, of course you guys were poking fun at jeno too, but nothing this extreme. ‘i mean, i guess one could think that, but everything about th-’ you couldn’t listen anymore, turned your heels and stormed off. stopping at the end of the hallway to through your graded paper away in anger and humiliation. after everything you both did for each other, it made your blood boil in anger and betrayal, you had to get back home. you paced to your dorm, keeping your head down so no one would notice you and your state of mind right now. skipping one literature class wouldn’t hurt.

so it did, and now here you are, sitting in your literature class with the professor reading out the pairings for the first project. for the rest of the week and over the weekend, you had ignored jeno’s texts and calls, you decided you were finally done with his games. ‘y/n and jeno’ the professor read out to the class.

‘WHAT’ you gasped, not noticing you had barked it out until everyone turned around and glared at you.

‘i’m sorry?...’ your professor had stopped everyone to bring attention back, she gave you a quizzical look, ‘is there a problem?’

you shook your head, still surprised by your sudden outburst, ‘n-no, i apologize’ you hung your head in shame, red blooming on your cheeks from embarrassment.

your professor nodded and resumed her list of partners, after she announced to the class, ‘now sit with your partners and discuss what you all want to do for your projects for the rest of class’

you groaned, you weren’t ready to face jeno yet, you probably never would be. you never wanted to see or speak to him ever again, you shuffled to his seat, taking your time to get over to him and sit down.

‘hey’ he said, ‘you’ve been ignoring me this whole week, whats up?’

fake ass bitch, you thought, he didn’t care, ‘nothing, just not a good week i guess’

he frowned, ‘damn, well, if it makes you feel better, i got a 90% on my first bio exam!’ he beamed, ‘so at least now you know your hard work is paying off’

‘that’s great, glad you’ve been getting at least something out of this’ you deadpanned.

he gave you a quizzical look, but decided to drop the subject, ‘so, for the project i was thinking about covering the tenant of wildfell hall’

you literally didn’t care and let him pick whatever, ‘yeah that’s fine’

his eyes narrowed, giving you a weird look again, ‘okay… so, the book has themes of double standards, religion, morality, and love. i can send you passages that we can cover for our project…’. jeno went on for the next thirty minutes with only little nods and comments from you, agreeing to anything he had to suggest. all you wanted to do was leave, once the professor dismissed class that's what you did, picking up your backpack and storming off with jeno still talking.

you rushed down the hallway, ignoring the calls coming from jeno behind you. with his crazy athletic built he eventually caught up to you, grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. you gazed up at him, he stared down at you, looking for any answer he could find. ‘what is your problem? i thought you’d be happy we were paired up?’ he started interrogating you.

you sighed, almost giving up, ‘jeno, can we just meet up later and talk about it? i’m exhausted right now’

he sighed and his hands fell from your shoulders, ‘i’ll text you’ he nodded, and you turned around and left. once at your dorm you threw your backpack to the side and climbed into your bed, taking a well needed nap. a few hours later, your phone vibrating next to you pulled you out of dream land.

3 missed texts from jeno:

‘y/n, are you able to come over to my apartment soon?’

‘plz stop being so stubborn its annoying plz just talk to me’

‘here’s the address lmk when ur on the way’

you texted him back:

‘sorry i was taking a nap’

‘i can be there in a bit’

you got up and got ready, grabbed your backpack and left for jeno’s. once you got there it took you a good five minutes to have the courage to knock on his door. hesitant you tenderly knocked on the door, after a second he opened up the door and let you inside without another word. he was in shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt and smelled immaculate, you gulped, raking your eyes over his body, strong arms and long legs, a face without imperfections. your heart burned in anger and panic, angry that he was so gorgeous it pissed you off, panic because all you could think was what the fuck am i doing right now? ‘do you want to sit down? i saw you brought your backpack, we can work on some stuff if you want?’

you nodded, walked over to the couch and plopped down, grabbing your backpack you opened it and got your laptop out, pulling up the notes from your calculus 2 class. jeno joined you on the couch, sitting a little bit to close for comfort, but you said nothing. his bare leg brushed against your clothed one, sending a buzzing sensation all throughout your body, trying your best to ignore him you stayed focused on your screen.

question 1: x³ + 2x² - 6z = 4 - 2y²

without a second thought you typed in the answer:

r³cos³0 + 2r² - 6z = 4

submitting it you smiled as the green checkmark popped up, correct on the first try. ‘damn, that’s crazy’ jeno broke the silence, you glanced over at him.

‘what?’ you said turned back to your laptop.

‘i literally understood none of that and you got it on the first try!? that’s literally fucking insane’

you laughed at his outburst, ‘it’s nothing really, it was kind of easy, just plug in the following x and y polar conversion formulas into the equation where possible, then you just rewrite everything and use the formulas to convert the equation into cylindrical coordinates’

jeno howled in laughter, which was contagious enough to make you laugh, ‘that’s insane, you’re amazing’

you cocked your head to the side, intrigued by his word choice, ‘oh? am i?’

his demeanor changed, the air felt heavy as he calmed down and moved closer to you. he leaned in, and you panicked, he glanced down at your lips and back up to your eyes. his long eyelashes met his cheeks, you followed suit and closed your eyes, ignoring the way your mind is screaming at you not to do this. heart says otherwise, as you could hear it beat in your ears, whole body buzzing as his pink, soft lips brushed against yours.

jeno moved in deeper, teeth clinking together as you ravaged your mouth, he was a starved man, and you were the last meal he would ever receive. it was warm and sensual, he reached around your waist and roughly pulled your torso into his. his nose bumped into yours as he moved his head slightly for better access, laptop completely abandoned to the side your arms lifted to his biceps, squeezing hard as you let out a soft moan. you broke the kiss as you pressed against his arms, your forehead leaned on his as you both caught your breath, between pants he smiled and laughed, you did not. anxiety ran your blood cold as now all you could think of was what he had said in the classroom about you. was this all a joke?

‘jeno…’ you started, and his smile faltered, ‘i can’t do this’ you stood up and grabbed your laptop and shoved it haphazardly into your backpack, heatedly rushing out of his apartment and down the hall to the entrance. again you ignored jeno as he called after you, his footsteps echoing behind you. you pushed the heavy door open and the air hit you with the wind flying through your hair. continuing down the lamp-lighted street, the boy was still trying to catch up to you.

‘y/n please, we forgot to talk about it’ he addressed your almost non-existent figure fading into the darkness.

he was hopeless by now, but still refused to give up, he moved again, ‘y/n!’

you stopped and turned around, walking up to him his build now growing hazy as water pooled in your eyes. ‘you wanna talk about it? you WANT to talk about it? FINE, you are such a stuck-up asshole, thinking i’m so stupid because i don’t have the best grade in our lit class. laughing about it with your friends when they call me a moron! you think you’re so great you didn’t even know what the chemical symbol was for sulfur, FUCKING SULFUR JENO’ you were yelling at this point, jabbing your finger into his chest with every emphasis in your anger. ‘you think you can play me in some fucked up game you have going on in your head, keeping me around so you can feel better about yourself and use me for help so you could pass an exam, i know i’ve asked you for help before, but at the end of it, all i wanted to do was be your friend, you could’ve said no, but i couldn’t. you gave me no choice but to give in with the deal that you’d help me in return, and you know what? i needed the help, badly. and you knew that and used it in a discussion with your friends that laughed at me because of it, you know how that made me feel? like absolute shit, i wanted to be your friend but all you have ever done was use me and hurt me, and guess what? you don’t have to fear for’ fingers motioning air quotations, ‘my grade because i got a good grade on my homework thanks to you, so thank you jeno! i really appreciate the help, i hope it really boosted your ego, maybe you can go fucking write a book about it or something, i don’t know and i don’t care, but i’m done’ your face was probably beet red at this point, while angry tear's avalanche down your face, you hastily whipped your face and snot that escaped during your outburst. his face focused into view, he was so pretty, and that made you tear up all over again, he could have been different.

he looked defeated, frustrated as his fists clenched into balls and relax over and over, ‘y/n, please let me explain, i di-’ you stopped him, placing your hand in front of his face.

‘do the math jeno, the probability that i would ever hear you out is slim…’ you turned and started walking away, briefly glancing back, he was still in the same spot. ‘it’s S by the way, the symbol for sulfur, maybe now you’ll remember it when you think back on this night… not so proud after all’ your voice cracked at the last sentence as your heart wrenched and stomach mangled, tears breaking through yet again.

you left him there.

you decided not to tell jaemin about what happened, but jeno’s absence was evident. you couldn’t sleep, all that replayed in your nightmare was his soft lips brushing against yours, and you swore you could still feel his strong arms pulling you forward, into him. the feeling that gave you clawed at your heart, beating you down every single time you closed your eyes and pictured his face smiling at you, laughing at you, annoyed at you. anything he gave you, you would take, no matter how much it broke you down. you liked him, no, you like him. even after everything he’s done, you still held a soft spot for him in your fractured heart. all the phone calls that turned into facetime when he would ask for help with math, and you had to show him the steps of a problem. laughing every time you would shake trying to hold your phone steady as he jokingly squawked, ‘keep still!’ when he would read passages to you over the phone late at night, and you’d have fallen asleep to his tender voice before he could even explain the motif. it had only been 5 weeks of class, but it felt like you had known him longer, despite your differences in subjects you both eventually subsided the arguments with long discussions and debates on why one answer was right and how the other was wrong. revelations that came to light after hours of going back and forth.

you stood in the shower, blankly staring at the white ceramic wall in front of you as droplets rained down. you thought about the day you and jeno were studying in the library, renting a study room within because you figured the discussion would be heated. it ended up in a feverish battle between the differences of cell adhesion and cell migration. by the end of it you were standing up, hands pulling at your roots in irritation trying to explain it to the boy sat down in front of you with a shit-eating grin adorning his face. ‘y/n, y/n, stop, stop, please, i can’t take it anymore’ he laughed, clutching his stomach, ‘i got it, while they are tightly associated, cell adhesion provides structural support and stability to tissues, while cell migration is the directed movement of cells from one location to another’

your arms dramatically dropped to your sides, ‘YOU KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME’ pointing, you accused him.

he laughed again at your reaction, ‘i just love seeing you like that, it’s cute, you know i just love a challenge’ he exclaimed going back to his notes.

you laughed to yourself, recalling the moment of the playful banter and subtle flirting that slipped out on occasion. you giggled, howled, and snorted a little too much at the memory, which silently followed into your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach, the shower masking the uncontrollable sobs that carried through every limb, appendage, and bone.

jaemin went on and on about some story about his roommates, you paid barely any attention, eyes glued to the door as you waited to see if he would show up. the blond boy slurred his words, leaning into you now, trying to get you to look at him. you turned your body, he was giving you a pouty face with big, shining eyes, ‘i asked you a question y/nnie. were you even listening to me?’ he tugged on the sleeve of your hoodie, his strength made you feel like a rag doll.

‘i was… and the answer is yes?’ you said, unsure about whatever he was yapping about.

he beamed and clapped playfully, ‘yippie! i knew you could use a pick-me-up, i promise it’ll be fun, the party is saturday so clear your schedule, i’ll pick you up’

your shoulder shook as you lightly laughed at his theatrics, rubbing your temple in exasperation as to what you just got yourself into, ‘sounds like fun’. you barely noticed jeno walking in out of the corner of your eye. he looked worse than you did, a hoodie with a stain, sweats that looked they were able to fall apart, mis-matched socks and unkempt hair. he kept pushing his glasses up his nose and rubbing his tired eyes. your heart skipped a beat when you noticed his dark circles that almost matched yours, his being a little worse for wear. before he could catch you staring, you quickly focused your attention to the professor starting class, going through the roaster and continuing the lecture on cells.

‘can anyone tell me the variations in cell types? jeno, got an answer?’ the professor smiled at him, everyone turned to spectate and wait for him to answer, except you.

‘um, prokaryotic and eukaryotic’ he dragged, sounding uninterested despite getting the question right.

‘yes! very good jeno’ the professor praised, moving on to the next question. you started to sweat, angry that he got it right and yet you were now holding on your high c- in literature class. how come he could now catch onto science but yet, you were still unable to grapple with the concepts of a victorian classic novel? or maybe it was the fact you had skipped every class this week, refusing to work with jeno on anything, you noticed the text and calls from him were dwindling three days after the confrontation, however everyday he sent pictures of his notes and analysis on the reading and how the project was going. as pathetic as it was, you continue to lay awake in bed nearly every night rereading his text from that night:

i know you are angry and probably hate me right now and that’s understandable, but i don’t want to give up on you, on us. do you think newton gave up on the laws of motion after he failed on the first or second try? you aren’t getting the whole picture, plz give me a chance to explain, i don’t even know if you are reading this, but if you are, plz hear me out you got it all wrong about that day in the classroom, and if it felt like i was using you, i’m sorry. that was never my intention, i just like being around you, you are always quick-witted and i was just trying to taunt you so you’d pay attention to me because i really like you, ig that backfired badly lol. anyway, i hope this will change your mind, and you’ll reach out, i’ll give you time.

followed by a very unserious message that you couldn’t help but smile at:

oh, i almost forgot, don’t worry about the project, but you could come to class, i’m starting to fear for your grade again (,,>﹏<,,) (only kidding!)

another biology class and 2 skipped lit classes pass and the weekend was finally brought upon the world. you held the pleasure of assisting jaemin to a party hosted by someone he knew from one of his health classes. it took forever for you to pick out a cute outfit, but opted for a sleeveless shirt and basic jean shorts and a pair of white sneakers you found buried in the back of your small closet. you carefully did your makeup, usually not taking it too far, but this was special, and you needed to feel like a bad bitch tonight.

jaemin showed up an hour later, deciding to walk to the house 4 blocks down, saying he wanted ‘to get turnt with you’ and that he refused to drink and drive. you agreed, walking sounded better than looking for a driver or someone having to stay sober throughout the night. you exited your building and found jaemin’s car in the lot, he climbed out to greet you and whistled, eyes eating up your form, ‘damn, you look hot’

you smiled bashfully, ‘thanks jaemin, even nerds can be hot you know?’

he turned to lock his car, ‘i mean, yes, but like, you always look cute, but this is like the freaky side of you, it’s different… it’s nice’

you cackled, ‘please never call me freaky ever again, i’m going to revoke your brain rot privileges’

he admitted defeat and dropped the conversation, you both now walked down the sidewalk in perfect silence with the sun now set, surveying the rows of houses in different stages of life in the moon glow. ‘it’s this one’ jaemin nudged you, stopping, he pointed to the house on the corner, you nodded and wrapped your arm around his, linking together so you immediately wouldn’t get lost in the sea of a potential crowd. he opened the old, green door, and you followed, as expected there was a good amount of people attending and as the night worn on you figured more would pile in.

jaemin turned to you, ‘do you wanna go find some drinks?’

‘yes, please’ you quickly nodded as he pulled you through the throng of people, trying to find the kitchen.

once you were there, the host of the party seemed to also be there, ‘jaemin! glad you could make it man’ they dabbed each other up and touched shoulders embracing in a ‘bro hug’.

‘hell yeah, no way i’d not come for the first party of the semester, i brought my friend along with me!’ he pulled you closer to him, now giving you the floor as all attention was pulled towards you, wincing as jaemin jabbed at your side, urging you to get closer to his friend.

‘hi, i’m y/n’ you said giving him a genuine smile, holding out your hand.

‘oh my, you are gorgeous, and you came with this sleaze bag’ he nodded towards jaemin who just playfully hit his friends shoulder, ‘i’m donghyuck, but everyone calls me haechan, its a pleasure to meet you’ he softly took a hold of your hand and bent down to give it a little peck, you giggled at the eccentric greeting.

jaemin tore haechan away, ‘alright, not too much now’ he joked, ‘it’s time for shots’ haechan clapped and guided you both to the kitchen island that was filled with different alcohol, he picked out a clear liquid and poured them into plastic shot cups he grabbed from a neat stack. jaemin lifted up his cup, ‘fuck pharmacology’ you snickered at his comment and raised your cup along with haechan who nodded in agreement. on cue, you threw back the cup and shuddered as the sweet nectar burned your throat. ‘hell yeah! another! at the end of the night i want to be able to forget about fucking blood urea nitrogen and blood glucose’ haechan laughed and poured another in all 3 cups. after that it was another, and then another, and after about 6 shots you tapped out and opted for a gin and coke that haechan was more than happy to make for you.

more time had passed than you thought as more people flooded the kitchen, wrecking havoc on the choices of liquor, haechan handed you your cup and jaemin motioned for you both to move to the living room. people were dancing, some were playing beer pong off in the corner, and others were chatting on various furniture. ‘want to dance a bit?’ he whispered in your ear because of the loud music that made the floor vibrate under your seat, you could feel it rattling your brain. giving him a silent nod he grabbed your hand and led you through the crowd, finding a spot and finding the rhythm of the song. you bobbed your head to the beat and moved back and forth with jaemin in front of you, you always thought he was attractive, but you saw him nothing more than a friend, you felt comfortable around him. you nursed your drink slowly, already somewhat tipsy from the shots, you didn’t want to get drunk too fast or blackout. jaemin grabbed your free hand and twirled you around, dramatically moved your joined hands with fever. you laughed along with him, indulging him in an embarrassing, yet fun dance that probably made you both look wasted to others.

his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close much to your surprise, pleasanton’tkissmepleasedon’tkissmepleasedon’tkissme ran rampant in your mind as he leaned towards your ear ‘don’t look now, but a certain someone is staring at you from across the room, you let out a strangled breath.

‘do you know who it is?’ you whispered back.

‘jeno’ he mused and your lively spirited fell.

‘whats up? something go down with him?’ he pestered.

‘um, kinda, its a long story’ you faltered and jaemin frowned.

‘damn, that serious? his loss, he can look all he wants’ jaemin wanted to be lighthearted, make you smile again and keep jeno out of your mind. you were grateful as he pulled you into another whimsical dance, the joyful nature of his was infectious.

after a couple more songs had passed, you had downed your whole drink and let go of jaemin’s hand, ‘i’m gonna go find haechan and have him make me another drink, it was surprisingly superb’ jaemin nodded and said he would stay in the same spot for your return.

you hastily made your way to the kitchen, apologizing to others you had to push through. the small room was almost empty, haechan was nowhere in sight so you looked for a different drink. ‘having fun with jaemin?’ a voice boomed from behind you, one that you knew all too well. you slowly turned to find jeno smirking at you, leaning against the fridge adorned in a tight white shirt and ripped jeans, oh fuck this stupid earth, he just had to follow you here looking like that.

‘yes i am, actually’ you stated matter-of-factly.

his lips twitched up in amusement, ‘is that so?’ he moved in closer, eventually trapping you between him and the liquor table. jeno’s soft brown eyes met yours, searching for something inside, however, his eyes told you everything, hope, they screamed. his hand lifted towards your face, slowly brushed against the skin lighter than a feather, taking a piece of your hair and pushing it behind your ear, ‘so he wouldn’t mind this?’. his eyes fluttered closed as he bowed towards you.

before he could seal the deal, ‘jeno’ you stopped him.

he sighed, defeated, ‘just please talk to me, you said the probability was slim, but not zero, let me explain’ jeno begged, his large hands caressed your cheeks tenderly, they were soft and warm.

you could blame the alcohol as you finally let him speak his case, ‘fine, we can find somewhere private’

he smiled, eyes disappearing in relief. he grabbed your hand, leading upstairs and into an empty room, he closed the door behind him as you took a seat on the bed, ‘alright, grovel and explain’ you lifted your phone up to check the time ‘you have 10 minutes’

he gave you a smug smile, ‘that’s all i need baby, you know i love a challenge’ you rolled your eyes at his attempt to uplift the tension fogging the air. ‘that day in the classroom, you obviously didn’t stay long enough to hear what i had to say about you, at first i didn’t know how to respond being put into that position was hard, you didn’t ‘put me through anything’ though, i had nothing but fun with you, even if it was frustrating at times. we always figured it out. but when i heard what she said after i wasn’t just going to allow it, i said ‘yeah i guess one could say that’ because these people literally do not know you like i do, i finished with ‘but everything about that is completely untrue, they are willing to learn, but it's just taking longer than some of us who take a bunch of english and literature classes. if you got to actually know her you’d see how bright they actually are. a literal math genius and a real mastermind of science, could answer any question from the top of their head, it’s insane. so while we are strong in this subject, they are just stronger in other fields’ he explained, watching you intently. you wiggled under his gaze, making you feel same, but itched for him to go on, ‘i then told her that she should not speak on things she knows nothing about and left because i will not associate myself with someone who talks like that about people i care about’ he emphasized the last words carefully, grabbing hold of your hand and lifting you from the bed, ‘y/n, i’m so sorry, it was never my intention to hurt you, ever. i care about you so deeply, you show up in every romance novel i read, every poem i skim, the stories i write… it’s all you’ jeno gazed down at you, his eyes now searching for an answer, hope, and panic could only be found in his as you studied his features in the warm glow of the moon peaking through the window.

‘you really said that? you defended me?’ you questioned him quietly.

‘yes y/n, i would never let anyone hurt you, even if you aren’t in the room, because in that case, they hurt me too’

you hummed, the haze of your brain clouded any judgment you held, he was something different, the greatest math problem that needed to be solved. ‘thank you jeno, i guess it’s now my turn to apologize’

he chuckled at you, ‘no need baby’ you laughed softly, ‘now, can we pick up where we left off? you know, someone once told me that pride and prejudice wasn’t written in a day’ he wagged his eyebrows at you, moving you into an embrace as he kissed the top of your head. you held on tightly, holding him as you buried your face into his chest swallowing his scent so you could save it for later.

the hug ended, but he still held you close in his arms, ‘i guess i could pick up another chapter or two’ he laughed at your poor pun and drooped down, so his lips could meet yours. it was messier than the first kissed you shared with him, wet and heated as you could taste the soju on his tongue. he moved at a faster pace, devouring you like an animal, jeno walked you towards the bed, you gave in falling down with him, with him climbing on top of you, never breaking away. teeth on teeth echoed throughout the room as you moaned, his hands exploring every part of your body, making your core burn more and more.

jeno dipped down to attack your neck in kisses and sucking at the exposed skin, hands finding a way to his hair and tugging slightly at the intimate feeling of him being closer than ever. ‘please, tell me you’re mine, please want me’ he breathed out, the air softly hitting your ear, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. he was desperate, kissing you anywhere he could and waited for you to answer.

‘y-yes jeno, i’m yours’ you choked out, ‘i want you in every way’ satisfied with your response he growled and his mouth met yours once more, ‘p-please touch me’ you begged frantically, needing anything to ease the sensation that pooled in the pits of your stomach.

jeno hummed, fingers brushing up and down your exposed stomach, ‘where baby? use your words, remember what i taught you?’ it was your turn to make demands now, wasting no time you grabbed his hand and brought it down between your legs, he cupped your vagina. you groaned, you needed more. jeno grabbed the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down and threw them behind him, the cool air hit your core making you rub your thighs together in order to find little warmth.

he carefully pulled your underwear down, wanting to savor the moment of finally seeing you bare, he gulped, ‘god, you have such a pretty pussy’ he took his hand and rubbed the sensitive skin, ‘so wet. just for me, right? all for me baby’ you cried out at his words. he inserted a finger into your weeping hole, making you gasp out in surprise at the feeling of just one finger filling you up dangerously. as he pushed back and forth your legs trembled, he added another finger and brought his head down to your core, ‘i bet you taste amazing’ was all he said before he dove in deep, his tongue against your clit as he drank up your juices and sucked on the flesh.

‘f-fuck’ you mewled, grabbed a hold of his soft, black hair in order to keep you grounded, with every thrust he made as he fucked with his mouth you tugged on his hair, pulling when you would feel the band about to snap, jeno groaned, loving the way you’d use him for stability.

he stopped and removed his face, you whined from the loss of contact as his fingers also found their way outside of you, he smiled ‘don’t worry, my pretty baby, i’ll take care of you’. he threw off his shirt nearly getting drunker with the way you were taking him in, he loved being adored by you, in such a calculated way that made sense in every story. you followed suit and removed your top and bra, baring naked in front of him and laid back on the bed as he admired you from afar, ‘you’re so beautiful’ he breathed, discarding his pants and underwear he crawled back on top of you, whispering sweet nothing's as he peppered your collarbone and breasts with kisses.

‘are you sure you want this? it might hurt a little at first, but i promise i’ll go slow until you tell me otherwise’ he towered over you.

your glassy eyes met his in reassurance, ‘yes, jeno i want this’ you confirmed everything for him. he quickly lined up his cock with your cunt and gently pushed inside, his eyes never leaving yours. your hands grasped around his muscled biceps, digging your nails into them when the pain was strong. once he bottomed out he stopped to let you get used to his size, you shared sensual kisses and sweet touches, jeno doing everything in his power to make you feel loved and safe at that moment going forward, that’s all he ever wanted to do. for weeks, he had been beating himself up for taking the teasing comments way too far at times, poking fun at something you were obviously insecure about, but you did the same, he figured it was kind of the thing you two had. in reality, he wanted to push you to do better, making comments like that so you’d work harder and prove everyone wrong. no one could work with you better than him, so he had gone out of his way to ask the pressor to pair you up on the project, also making the forced proximity making you talk to him after you stopped answering his calls and messages. he should have gone a better way about motivating you, but now that he had your forgiveness, he could work on better strategies.

‘jeno, you can move now’ you rasped out, still holding on his arms like an anchor with a boat. he pulled out and pushed back in, taking it slow as you moaned at the feeling of him filling you up to the brim, jeno picked up the pace, setting a steady rhythm as skin clapping together filled the room, ‘oh fuck, just like that’ your chest heaving up and down.

he slammed into with vigor, bitting your bottom lip as you opened your mouth to let out a breathless moan, ‘yeah? you like that? fuck, you’re so tight, literally sucking me in, i never want to leave this pretty fucking pussy’ he husked, he licked your lips and kissed your jaw as he grunted, setting a faster pace, making you cry out in pleasure. he grabbed your legs and opened them wider, giving him better access to go deeper into your abused cunt. you cried as the flame in your belly raged with a thousand fires, ‘keep your eyes on me baby’ jeno demanded, automatically making you swallow as you moved your eyes to meet his, blown out pupils filled with lust as your vision of him became blurry as blissful tears threaten to fall with every snap on his hips digging into you. you’ve had flings and hook-ups before, but nothing as profound as this, the eye contact, togetherness of him never backing too far away from your hold, you were being wholly consumed by jeno. everything right down to your core, he was all you could feel, taste, see, and think about.

‘o-oh my god’ you sobbed, hips jerking up at the feeling of the ripples burning through you, the coil in your stomach tightening, craving to break open, ‘m gonna cum’ you clenched around him, making jeno hiss above you at the feeling of tightness around his throbbing dick.

‘go on baby, cum for me,’ he whimpered as the feeling for him also grew intense, the way your cunt hugged his dick was making his mind spin. jeno mumbled incoherently ‘i’m so close baby, let go, you can let go, i got you’ from his words and the way he pounded into you made you snap, legs trembling as liquid gushed from your core and past his cock and dripped onto the sheets. light-headed and dizzy you cried out for jeno as your orgasm burst over you.

you clenched again, feeling overwhelmed by the euphoric feeling, ‘oh, fuck’ jeno cursed as he stilled inside of you, painting your insides with his seed, he groaned at the sensation of finally filling you up and properly claiming you as his and his alone. he stayed there for a couple of minutes inside of you. savoring the static of the overstimulation and pleasure of release. you winced as the hot liquid poured out of you when he pulled out, the emptiness of it all. jeno watched as his cum slide down your hole and onto the sheet, he scooped up the remaining liquid that rushed out of you and shoved it back into your clit with two fingers, making you cry at the sensitivity. ‘fuck that was… one of the best experiences of my life’ he caught his breath and plopped down facing you, he gently caressed your chin, bringing your head to his as he softly left kisses on your lips, ‘let me get you cleaned up baby’

‘m tired’ you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open.

‘i know, but let me take care of you and get you dressed, i know theres extra clothes somewhere around here’ he started rummaging around the wardrobes, digging into them in order to find anything adequate. ‘aha!’ he put on a clean pair of underwear and sweats, ‘i’ll be right back baby’ he left the room and came back after for what felt like an eternity with a warm wash cloth and clean clothes, ‘these are mark’s girlfriends pj’s i’m sure she won’t mind,’ he hummed, wiping you clean, and dressing you in the soft, clean clothes. he picked you up so he could throw the covers back, tucking you in with a kiss on the nose, ‘you’re so cute’

you lazily smiled at him, settling into the sheets as you clung onto his warm frame, ‘who’s room is this by the way?’ you whispered as jeno shut his eyes.

‘mark’s. doesn’t matter. you’re my girlfriend now right?’ he leaned his head on yours.

‘mmm girlfriend yes. mark who?’ words fell from your mouth as you yawned, sleeping coming to find you soon.

‘mark, shark.’ he dismissed you, ‘just be ready for a stern talk when we wake up from the man himself.’ he kissed your head as you drifted off to sleep, the morning was the least of your worries now, you finally figured out the solution, the obvious answer being: jeno.

[foxy-eva]

Seven Minutes

Summary: Seven minutes stuck in a closet with Spencer really feel like heaven

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Fluff, Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) alcohol consumption (responsibly), Reader is a little tipsy, flirting, truth or dare, suggestiveness, forced proximity, playing seven minutes in heaven, heavy kissing, grinding, allusions to sex

Word count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Stuck Together Writing Challenge

Masterlist

The alcohol was buzzing in your veins when you let your sight wander over the room. It was to be expected that Penelope's birthday party would be a blast but you hadn't quite expected how much a certain someone would catch your attention. 

Any remaining inhibitions were suppressed by the two glasses of wine you just had. It was not enough to make you lose control, but enough to become more blatant with the object of your desire. 

And damn, Spencer really looked desirable tonight. 

Relaxed against the cushions of Penelope's couch and deep in a conversation with Luke, he had never looked more handsome. A smile was blooming on his face, obviously excited to share whatever random fact had just come to his mind. 

You watched him from a few feet away before you decided it had been long enough. Craving his attention, you walked over to the couch. He looked up at you and you noticed a slight rosy shade spreading over his cheeks. 

All the seats around the coffee table were taken by party guests. That didn’t stop your plan to finally close the distance between you and your favorite coworker, though. 

You pointed at his lap and chirped, “I'm sorry, is this seat taken?” 

Spencer looked up at you wide-eyed, making the confusion your question caused apparent. 

“Uh, I can get up if you want to sit here,” he offered as he attempted to stand up. 

You were quick to place your hands on his shoulders to push him down again. “No need,” you snickered right before you plopped down in his lap. 

Spencer froze underneath you while the people around you gasped and laughed and playfully sang ‘ooooh’. Your boldness surprised not just him but yourself too. 

His face was mere inches away when you turned your head to look at him and quipped, “I hope you're comfortable.” 

“I bet he is,” Luke chuckled and playfully hit Spencer’s shoulder. 

“I uh…,” he muttered, still looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights. 

It was then that you noticed how his arms were hovering over you and he seemed incredibly tense. You felt bad for just invading his space like that, a knot forming in your stomach at the thought that your proximity might be unwanted. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you tried to get up again.

To your surprise, Spencer’s hands flew around your waist, hindering you from moving away from him. 

“No, please stay,” he finally managed to say. 

Your heart began beating so loud you were sure Spencer could hear it. The way his palms were placed on your body, his fingers burying into you ever so slightly, let your head spin. 

Spencer leaned back against the backrest of the couch, relaxing his body so you could comfortably lean against him, one arm resting on his shoulder and your side pressed into his chest. 

Your eyes fell to the coffee table at Spencer’s drink, expecting to find an alcoholic beverage. That would at least explain the way he reciprocated your action. But unless he had spiked his tea, you were certain he must have been sober.

You turned back to look at him. “Is this really okay?” 

He nodded as a smile spread over his face. “Yeah, I like having you close.” 

You could feel how your cheeks began burning, if from the alcohol or his words was unclear, though.

Luke suddenly got up from his spot beside Spencer, chuckling, “I think I'm gonna give you two some space.”

With the seat beside Spencer now vacant, it felt odd to stay in his lap, so you slowly slid off his thighs to sit beside him instead. In an instant your heart protested, yearning for his touch again. 

By the way a quiet sigh fell from Spencer’s lips, you hoped he might already miss your nearness too. He was quick to shift in his seat until the side of his thigh touched yours, creating a connection that would soothe your longing for now. 

Before you could overthink whether or not that had been intentional, Penelope approached the group of people sitting around the coffee table and loudly sang, “Time for truth or dare! And nobody gets to say no because it's my birthday!”

She sat down opposite from you and placed her tablet on the table. “I already put everyone's names in,” she announced when she pressed the start button of some colorful app. 

Your heart began racing as you watched the display, relief washing over you when the name Tara appeared. 

“Truth,” she said while pressing the button on the display. 

Penelope read the question out loud, “From all the people here, who would you like to kiss?” 

Tara began laughing, “What, is this a special matchmaker version of Truth or Dare?” 

Penelope glanced over you and Spencer and snickered, “Perhaps.” 

Her reaction made you a little suspicious but you decided to let it slide for now. Instead you took another sip of your wine while curiously waiting for Tara's answer. 

“Emily,” she finally said and even you had to chime in when the others reacted with a playful ‘oooh’. 

Two more rounds and you learned that Penelope's neighbour fantasized about his librarian and laughed while Rossi presented his worst pick-up line. 

Then Spencer’s name lit up on the screen. To your surprise he picked dare and froze in place once the words appeared on the screen. Penelope began giggling uncontrollably, unable to read it out loud. You leaned forward to see what the dare was. 

Seven minutes in heaven with-  

You gasped once you saw your name. It became very obvious very quickly that Penelope must have messed with the algorithm somehow (or maybe she had programmed the app altogether).

“Come on, you two lovebirds,” she laughed. “My closet is waiting for you!” 

Your heart sank when you saw Spencer shake his head and shoot her an angry glance. “Come on, Garcia. That's not funny,” he scolded her. 

“We're just following the rules,” she protested. “Come on, don't be a killjoy.”

“Yeah, Reid. You loved having her in your lap earlier,” Tara quipped, very obviously already tipsy as well. 

Spencer found your eyes, an apologetic look in his eyes. “Are you okay with this?” 

It felt like the room was spinning when all eyes were suddenly on you. The bravery you displayed earlier was long gone but the thought of being alone with Spencer excited you more than you could bring to words. 

Tentatively, you nodded as you got up from the couch. Everyone began squealing and gasping when the two of you followed Penelope to her bedroom closet. Before you realized what was happening, she shoved the two of you in and closed the door while exclaiming, “See you in seven minutes!” 

You leaned against the wall and Spencer stood right in front of you, a few inches away. The light inside the closet was dim. It felt too awkward to look at him, so you decided to let your sight wander over Penelope's colorful dress collection while mumbling, “Seven minutes, huh? So what do you want to talk about?” 

“I'm not in the mood to talk,” Spencer grumbled, his tone shocking you. Your eyes found his to scan his face. What you initially interpreted as anger was actually something else. 

Something even more dangerous. 

The heat his body radiated was overwhelming and you noticed how his lips parted. His eyes were dark and filled with desire. The way he looked at you let shockwaves run through your body. 

Despite already suspecting the answer, you still whispered, “What do you want to do then?” 

Instead of answering you, his hands flew to your face, gently cupping your cheeks before he leaned in. 

“This,” he breathed right before his lips met yours. 

The kiss was soft and timid at first, almost as if he wanted to give you a chance to back down. That was the last thing you wanted, though. Without hesitation you reciprocated the kiss, your arms grabbing his shirt to pull him closer. 

Kissing him felt like tasting the first droplets of water after a lifelong drought. Soft lips brushed over one another while gentle hands didn’t dare to let go. When a silent sigh escaped your throat, the atmosphere shifted. Spencer tongue begged for entrance and you granted it, melting into him with a vigor that knocked the air out of his lungs. 

Spencer pressed his body into you, a soft hum vibrating against your lips. It was mesmerizing to be kissed like that, a sensation so phenomenal it made your head spin and your heart flutter. 

Spencer leaned back just enough to groan, “Seven minutes with you is not enough” 

A breathy laugh fell from your lips. “Depends on your skills,” you quipped.

He chuckled before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Then, he whispered,  “Are you challenging me?”

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you pressed your body flush against his and snickered, “Why don’t you find out” 

Spencer sighed when he felt you press your hips against his. His nose tenderly brushed over yours when he cooed, “I'd much rather take my time with you.” 

You expected him to capture your lips once more but instead his mouth found your neck. He kissed and nipped on sensitive skin until you whined so desperately it made him smile against you. 

“To learn all about you,” he whispered into your ear.

As if your knees hadn't already felt wobbly enough, one of Spencer’s hands brushed down your waist and over your hip before hoisting one of your legs up, making space for him to press his body even harder into you.

Heat rushed through your body and down between your legs when you sensed his desire burning for you. Even through several layers of clothing you could feel how his hardness pressed against your center. 

His lips found yours again, but just for a second. Then, he murmured, “To find out what makes you sing my name.” 

The way he ground his hips against your sensitive core let a moan rip right through you, immediately followed by his name.

“Spencer…” 

“Hm exactly like that,” he hummed before getting lost in another deep kiss. 

Time stood still as you got lost in this sinful embrace, rocking your hips against him ever so slightly, creating enough friction to sooth your desperation for now. 

This really felt like heaven.

Until Spencer suddenly and without a warning broke the kiss, having you whimper in protest. He let go of your thigh, gently placing your foot back on the floor before taking one step back to look at you. Your arms reached out immediately to pull him closer but he shook his head and took your hands in his, placing an innocent kiss on each of them. 

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “Only two minutes left and I need to uhm… cool down.” 

His sight dropped down to his crotch for a split second to make clear what he meant. Then, he found your eyes again. Spencer had never looked more beautiful with his lips plump from kissing and cheeks blooming pink. 

You looked up at him with widened eyes as you bit your own lip, struggling hard not to rip off your clothes and jump him right then and there.  

“Please stop that, you're making this impossible,” he chuckled as he averted his eyes to the wall behind you.

You took pity in him, aware how embarrassed he'd be if Penelope saw how riled up he'd gotten. Taking a deep breath, you tried to ground yourself.

“Do you want to talk about baseball?” You joked. 

Spencer laughed at your words, “Not really, no.” 

His smile was soft and so, so cute when he looked at you. “You’re very beautiful,” he said. 

His words let your heart flutter. “So are you.” 

Comfortable silence filled the confined space until your attention was captured by high-heeled footsteps approaching.

“You good?” You asked Spencer who took a deep breath and adjusted his pants before nodding.

Penelope swung the door open, a wide grin spread over her face. “Oh boy!” She squealed. “You two look like things got a little heated!” 

“Not really, no,” Spencer lied. 

“I hope you used protection,” she giggled as she stepped aside to let you walk out of the closet.

In a warning tone, Spencer grumbled, “Garcia…”

“Oh! Oh! You know what would be even better! Cute little curly-haired baby geniuses! Giving me another godchild would be the perfect birthday present!” She continued babbling, making the both of you laugh.

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings @spensreid @silversprings-mp3 @person-005 @kittyisick @siriuslyval03 @sleepysongbirdsings @brownbunnyb @thegoodwitchs-blog

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 30: September 2024 - Part 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Text Message: Belle Verstappen & Charles Leclerc

Belle:

I know we’re still figuring things out. But I didn’t want to let this moment pass.

You drove a perfect race today. Monza, Ferrari, the pressure — you carried all of it and made it look easy. That final stint? Surgical.

You earned every bit of that podium. And I hope, for once, you believe it too.

I’m proud of you, Charles. Really. Congratulations.

Charles:

…thank you. That means more than I know how to say.

I kept waiting for something to go wrong. For the strategy to fall apart or the engine to give up. But it didn’t. It just worked.

And hearing that from you — It kind of made it real.

Belle:

Let it be real. You deserve to keep the joy this time. Not just the pressure. And for what it’s worth — I was cheering. Loudly. The baby might be a Ferrari fan now. 

***

Instagram Stories: @/belleverstappen

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/f1girlmath:

Max lives on the grid.

Charles gets 24 hours in stories.

There’s a thesis in this. 📝

@/softforbelle:

She still posted.

Even after the birthday. After the years of silence.

She still showed up for his win.

Belle Leclerc is made of grace and titanium.

@/emotionalslipstream:

Belle Verstappen wrote a better Monza caption than Ferrari PR

and somehow still made it about him

not the noise

not the team

just Charles

@/wifemodeactivated:

Belle posting for Charles proves she’ll always be better than them.

But the feed belongs to the one who chose her first.

@/leclercfanclub:

idc what anyone says, Belle didn’t owe him a damn thing

but she still acknowledged his win

and did it in her voice

respect.

@/verstappenverse:

Charles in stories = “I’m proud of you”

Max on the grid and feed = “You’re home” 🧡

@/burnerforbelle:

“She put him in her stories, not the feed” is my new way of classifying emotional boundaries

***

The fall didn’t feel real until the pain started to bloom.

Belle hit the tile hard — first her knees, then her elbow, then her wrist. The breath fled her lungs like someone had pressed the air out of her, and for a second, she couldn’t even register the sound of the water still running above her.

She didn’t scream.

She didn’t have it in her.

Only a sharp gasp, her body curling instinctively, her left hand cradling her right wrist where it throbbed in quick, hot pulses. Her knees scraped against the tile as she tried to shift, but the ache there made her suck in another sharp breath.

It wasn’t catastrophic. It wasn’t broken. But it hurt.

The baby jumbled under her skin, like he wanted to check on her, and she reached out with her good hand, pressing it against the place where her son had just kicked her. 

Max wasn’t home. Max wasn’t even reachable. He was off somewhere in southern France, testing GT3 cars, in a no-signal zone, blissfully unaware that she was sitting alone and soaked on the bathroom floor, towel out of reach, shaking with adrenaline and trying not to cry.

Emilie was in Lisbon. 

Lando and Oscar were both in England, simulator work for McLaren. Lily was in England too, visiting family. 

Everyone she normally leaned on — gone.

Her phone had landed just outside the shower door. She crawled to it with her good hand, knees burning with every inch of movement, and once she finally grasped it, she just sat there for a moment, dripping and shivering, and stared at her contacts.

She didn't want to call anyone. She hated asking for help. Especially now, when Max wasn’t here to shield her from the vulnerability of it.

But she couldn’t drive herself.

So she texted Arthur.

Belle:

Hey. Sorry to bother you. I slipped in the shower. I think I sprained my wrist. My knees are really bruised and I can’t get up without pain. I need someone to drive me to the hospital. Are you in town?

Three dots appeared. Then vanished. Then came back.

Arthur:

Merde. Belle I’m so sorry. I’m not even in the country — I’m in Maranello. Can you call an ambulance?

Belle:

I don’t think it’s that serious. I just need help driving. It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.

Arthur:

Don’t do that. Don’t say it’s fine.

I’ll call Charles. He’s in the city. He can be there in ten. Just sit tight.

Belle stared at the screen.

Her heart sank before she could stop it.

Belle:

Please don’t. I’m fine. I’ll call a driver. Really, Arthur. It’s okay.

Arthur:

It’s not okay. You’re hurt and alone. He wants to help. Just let him. Please.

She didn’t respond right away.

She didn’t want it to be Charles. Not when she was this vulnerable. Not when the bruises hadn’t even started forming yet, but the emotional ones already ached.

But her hand was starting to shake from holding the phone too long, and her knees throbbed with every shift in position.

She closed her eyes.

Fine.

Fine.

Belle:

Okay. Just… don’t make it a big thing.

Arthur’s reply was instant.

Arthur:

Promise. He’s already on the way.

Belle let the phone drop onto the towel beside her and sat perfectly still, wrapped in silence, her wet hair clinging to her back, her wrist pulsing with each heartbeat.

It was just a fall.

Just a ride to the hospital.

But the lump in her throat said otherwise.

***

Text Messages: Arthur Leclerc & Charles Leclerc

Arthur: You in Monaco?

Charles: Yeah, why? Everything okay?

Arthur: Belle slipped in the shower. She hurt her wrist and can’t drive. I’m in Italy. She needs someone to take her to the hospital.

Charles: Wait—what?? Is she okay?? How bad?

Arthur: Sprained wrist, maybe worse. Bruised knees. She texted me because she didn’t know who else to ask.

Charles: Of course. I’ll go. Where is she?

Arthur: At their apartment. She didn’t want me to text you. I told her I would.

Charles:…Why didn’t she want me to know?

Arthur: That’s not the point right now. Just go. Be there. Don’t make it about you. Just show up.

Charles: I’m already in the car. Send me the address

Arthur: Thank you.

***

Charles didn’t know what he expected when Arthur said go to her, but it wasn’t this.

Not Belle opening the door with her wrist wrapped in gauze and her knees bruised like she’d gone twelve rounds with concrete, her bump just visible beneath the loose fall of her dress. Not the way she moved—carefully, like everything hurt. Not the way she didn’t flinch, didn’t cry, didn’t ask.

She looked pale. Shaken. Her hair still wet from the shower, curling around her cheeks. She didn’t smile when she saw him. She didn’t frown either. She just opened the door, like he was a delivery, not her brother.

And Charles… froze.

He didn’t know what he expected. Gratitude? Relief? The way she used to light up when he came home from a race? Instead, she barely looked at him.

“I’m okay,” she said, preemptively. “We’re taking my car.”

She was giving him the honor of witnessing her pain, and only under her terms.

He blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me. You drive a Ferrari. I’m not climbing into a low-slung performance ego machine with two busted knees and a baby inside me.”

There was a sharp edge in her voice, and it made something twist deep in his stomach. But he didn’t argue. He just followed her down to the parking garage in stunned silence.

And then he saw it.

 A green Volvo.

Modest. Safe. The kind of car that said I care more about surviving than arriving fast. He hadn’t even known she had a Volvo. Not really. Just memories of her mentioning needing a new car after her old one had broken down. 

“This is yours?” he asked, stupidly.

Belle didn’t even look up as she unlocked it. “Second one. GP picked it.”

Charles didn’t even know where to start with that sentence. That Max Verstappen’s race engineer had apparently picked out his sister’s car or that it was the second one. 

Charles frowned. “What happened to the first?”

“It got totaled,” she said. “In the wreck earlier this year.”

She climbed into the car, leaving him standing in silence.

He swallowed. A fender-bender. That’s what he had thought it had been.

Until Lewis of all people had told him that it hadn’t been that at all. A drunk driver had ran a redlight and Belle’s car had wrapped itself around a lamppost. Still…to hear her say it like this…so simply…

He hadn’t asked if she’d been scared. Or hurt. Or alone.

She winced as she buckled her seatbelt over her belly, shifting like every motion hurt. And suddenly, all Charles could see were the bruises.

The deep purple marks on her knees. The rigid tension in her jaw. The way she wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“You could’ve hit your head,” he said, too fast. “You could’ve blacked out. You’re pregnant, Belle. What if no one had picked up? What if you couldn’t get up? What if—”

“I did get up,” she said tightly, still not looking at him.

His fingers curled harder around the steering wheel. “You didn’t call me.”

“You haven’t exactly been first on my call list for a while.”

The words hit like a punch. Not cruel. Just… true. It landed heavier because she wasn’t even angry. Just tired.

“I would’ve come,” he said, his voice breaking. “If I’d known. I would’ve run.”

“I know.”

She said it so simply it wrecked him. No accusation. No pity. Just resignation.

His throat burned. He looked at her again — really looked at her. At the bump under her dress. At the bruise just visible above the knee. At the way her hand instinctively rested over her stomach, protective and automatic.

That was his little sister. Pregnant. Hurt. Alone. Because she hadn’t thought of him.

And he couldn’t even be angry about that — because he understood why.

“Your knees,” he said, voice hoarse. “They’re really bad.”

She snorted softly. “The tiles were wet. I slipped. It happens.”

But it wasn’t nothing. And Charles knew it.

“You’re pregnant, Belle.”

“Well spotted,” she said, dry as ever.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m handling it.”

She said it like she always did — like it wasn’t remarkable. Like handling it was a reflex now.

And that’s when it hit him — harder than the sight of the bruises or the bandage on her wrist. The way she sat there, composed and still, like she didn’t expect anyone to help. Like she’d stopped expecting anything at all.

“I should’ve been the one you called,” he whispered.

Belle didn’t say anything for a long time. And when she finally did, it was soft — not bitter, not sharp.

“You’ve had years to answer,” she said. “But I stopped asking.”

Charles turned his head, blinking hard, the weight of that sentence crashing down on him.

How had it gotten this bad?

“How did we get here?” he asked quietly.

Belle stared out the windshield. Then: “It didn’t get bad. You just stopped noticing when it wasn’t good anymore.”

He couldn’t breathe.

He thought about Christmases. Birthdays. The texts she’d sent during lockdown that he never answered. The way she always showed up, always made it easier, always did the work — until she didn’t.

Until she got tired of being invisible.

And now she was in pain. Carrying a child. And he hadn’t known she’d fallen until someone else told him.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

But he knew what he could do, right now.

“Let me go in with you,” he said as the hospital came into view, his voice barely steady. “Please.”

Belle looked over at him — finally. Her eyes were exhausted, but not closed off.

“…Yeah,” she said. “Okay.”

And it wasn’t forgiveness. But it was something.

Charles nodded, already unclipping his seatbelt, adrenaline flooding his veins like he was pulling into the pit lane on the final lap.

He didn’t say I’m sorry. Didn’t say I’ll do better.

Not yet. Not until she believed it.

But as he got out and walked around to open her door, he said, “I’m not letting you walk into that hospital alone.”

And right now, that was all she let him give. And all he had to offer.

***

The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and old coffee.

Belle sat gingerly on the edge of the hospital chair, her knees throbbing beneath the hem of her dress, Charles’ hoodie draped over her shoulders. She wasn’t sure when he’d taken it off — only that one moment she was shivering under the air conditioning and the next, it had been gently draped around her shoulders without a word.

She didn’t thank him. He didn’t ask her to.

Charles sat next to her, one leg bouncing, hands clasped tightly between his knees. He hadn’t stopped watching her — in that quiet, wide-eyed way that made it clear he was trying not to freak out but was, in fact, absolutely freaking out.

“Does it hurt?” he asked suddenly, for the fourth time in twenty minutes.

“Yes,” Belle said dryly, “still.”

He winced. “Right. Sorry.”

She sighed, resting her head back against the wall. “I think I broke it.”

Charles looked at her wrist, wrapped in one of those temporary velcro splints the nurse had given her after triage. “I thought you said sprain?”

“I said I hoped sprain. I also said I was standing on one foot in a wet shower with a basketball where my balance used to be.” She rubbed at her forehead. “The math isn’t in my favor.”

A nurse poked her head in. “Isabelle Verstappen?”

Belle stood carefully, Charles immediately at her side.

“You can come back now. We’ll do X-rays on the wrist and an abdominal check, just to be safe.”

Charles started to follow, but hesitated at the threshold. “Should I—?”

Belle looked at him. “You’re already here. Might as well carry my purse while you’re at it.”

His shoulders dropped half an inch with relief, and he fell into step beside her like he didn’t know how to do anything else.

The X-ray was quick. The fetal monitoring took longer.

“Any dizziness? Cramping?” the nurse asked gently. 

“No,” Belle said. “Lots of movement. He kicked all the way here.”

“A boy?” Charles said suddenly, his voice hoarse. Bell turned her head towards her brother to see he him look…gutted. 

She nodded. “Your nephew.”

He blinked fast. “I didn’t think I’d find out like this.”

Belle shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d tell you in a hospital gown, but here we are.”

Charles let out a breath that sounded like it hurt. “You’re going to be such a good mom.”

She looked at him, unsure how to respond to that — the sincerity in it, the quiet awe. The grief.

So instead, she offered a small smile.

“Thanks,” she said. “I hope so. He’ll be here in before christmas. Another 15 weeks or so.”

“You’re already 25 weeks?” he asked softly.

Belle shrugged. “He’s the size of a cauliflower this week. Or a soccer ball, depending on which app you ask. Very on brand, considering the kicking.

***

Charles sat stiffly in the chair tucked into the corner of the exam room, hands clenched in his lap, elbows digging into his thighs. He hadn’t spoken much since they checked in. Not since the nurse helped Belle up onto the bed, her movements slower than usual, guarded.

And now…

Now, he couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. Or the rise and fall of Belle’s belly. Or the sound.

The sound.

It was like a bird’s wings beating in his ears. Too fast, too strong, too real.

“Is that—?” he started, but his voice cracked halfway through.

Belle nodded, eyes on the monitor. “That’s him.”

Him.

A boy.

His nephew.

There was a long, stunned silence. The doppler monitor beeped steadily in the background, like it was keeping time for a life Charles didn’t even know he’d been missing.

The nurse smiled gently as she removed the probe, wiping the slick gel from Belle’s stomach. “Heartbeat looks excellent,” she said. “Very strong. And stubborn — he kept kicking the monitor.”

Belle exhaled, half under her breath. “Gets that from his father.”

Charles looked at her then.

Really looked.

Her hair was tied back in a messy braid, frizz escaping around her temples. Her wrist was wrapped in a brace. Her knees were bruised beneath the hem of her dress. She looked tired in a way he hadn’t noticed before — not just from the fall, but from everything.

And still, she was here.

Still calm. Still composed. Still doing this alone.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I didn’t know it was a boy,” he said quietly.

Belle didn’t look at him right away. She adjusted her dress back down and sat up slowly, careful with the wrist, wincing a little as she moved.

“Well,” she said eventually, still not meeting his eyes, “now you do.”

The nurse excused herself with a warm nod, the door clicking shut behind her, and Charles was left sitting in the echo of a moment he didn’t know how to carry.

“What’s his name?�� he asked, hesitating.

Belle glanced at him then — not sharply. Not warmly either. Just watching him.

“We haven’t decided yet,” she said. “There’s a list.”

He nodded. Then, after a beat:

“Can I… hear the list someday?”

Belle didn’t answer right away.

She just stared at him, unreadable, like she was trying to decide if the question cost him something or bought him something back.

And finally — finally — she said, “Maybe.”

It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t forgiveness.

But to Charles, it felt like the first green shoot breaking through a scorched field.

Hope. Tentative. Small. But there.

And for now, that was more than he’d earned.

And everything he wanted.

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles and Lorenzo)

Charles: She’s okay. The baby’s okay too.

Arthur: God. Okay. Okay. Thanks for going with her.

Lorenzo: How bad is it?

Charles: Sprained wrist. Bruised knees. Nothing broken. They ran every test. Baby’s heartbeat is strong. Stubborn, apparently. A boy.

Arthur: Wait— She’s having a boy?

Lorenzo: ...She didn’t tell us.

Charles: No. She didn’t.

Charles: She let me come in with her. Let me hear the heartbeat. Said I could maybe see the name list.

Arthur: Maybe?

Charles: I’ll take a maybe. It’s more than I deserve.

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Raymond Vermeulen

Belle:

Hi Raymond. I know Max is in the middle of testing today and I don’t want to interrupt. Please don’t panic — everything is fine now. I slipped in the shower this morning and sprained my wrist. Got checked out at the hospital, no fracture, just bruises and a wrap. The baby is okay. He’s been kicking non-stop. We’re both fine. I know Max is testing today — no need to interrupt. Just let him know when he’s finished.

Raymond:

Belle. You fell. You’re pregnant. And you think “ We’re both fine.” is going to keep him from panicking?

Belle:

He’s testing.

He needs focus, not panic. I didn’t want to worry him while he’s working.

Raymond:

Respectfully — no. You are his wife. You are carrying his child. He would fire me if I didn’t tell him the moment I knew something happened.

You are his wife. You are carrying his child. You slipped. You got hurt. You went to the hospital. He will want to know everything.

Belle: I know.

Raymond: So when I tell him — and I will, because if I don’t, he’ll fire me— do you want me to soften it, or give it straight?

Belle:

…Softly. But honestly. Lead with “Belle and baby are okay.” Then maybe “She didn’t want to distract you mid-session, but wanted you to know.” Then the wrist.

Raymond:

Noted. He’s going to freak out anyway.

Belle:

Yeah. I know. Let me know when he’s free. I’ll call.

Raymond: He’ll be free now. Testing can wait. You don’t.

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Emilie:

Just found the cutest little shop in Lisbon Don’t yell at me but I may have bought a tiny linen romper with embroidered lions (I blacked out, Belle, it was so small it looked like a pocket)

Belle:

Okay well now I’m crying a little so thanks for that

Emilie:

WAIT are you crying because hormones or crying because something’s wrong?? Belle?

Belle:

Don’t freak out I’m okay Just… slipped in the shower this morning

Belle:

Landed on my knees and wrist Baby kicked a few minutes after so I didn’t totally lose it I was at the hospital. Everything is fine.   Charles is with me

Emilie:

BELLE. WHAT. You slipped?! Why didn’t you call me?? Why is Charles there?? IS MAX WITH YOU?

Belle:

Max is testing GT3s today, he didn’t see my message I didn’t want to distract him while he was driving I texted Raymond — he’s going to tell him when he can And you weren’t even in the country, Em. 

Emilie:

You absolute menace I leave the country for ONE DAY and you go full final girl in your own bathroom??

Belle:

😂 That’s a dramatic way of putting it Just bruised. Wrist is sprained. Baby is fine. I promise. No bleeding. No cramps. Monitors look good.

Emilie:

Okay but also: I hate you a little right now I’m sitting in a café full of people eating pastel de nata and I just made a distressed noise loud enough to scare a baby Also I’m Googling flights Say the word and I will come home immediately

Belle:

Please don’t I’m okay I just didn’t want you to find out hours later and go full protective rage goblin on the entire continent

Emilie:

TOO LATE Also I’m keeping the lion romper Emotional compensation

Belle: Fair

Emilie: I love you. Next time you so much as trip I want a facetime. Do you understand me?

Belle:

Understood Love you too Now go eat your pastry and pretend I didn’t give you a heart attack before 10am

***

The GT3 session had been going well. Max was focused. Controlled. The way he always got once the helmet came down and the rest of the world went quiet.

The track was smooth beneath him, the car responding exactly how he wanted it to — until the pit radio crackled and Raymond’s voice came through, clipped and deliberate.

“Box this lap.”

Max blinked.

“Everything okay?” he asked, already backing off the throttle.

There was a pause.

Then: “Yeah. Just box, Max. Please.”

That please was new.

Max frowned, eased into the pit lane, and pulled into the garage with a practiced precision that didn’t match the sudden weight in his chest. The second he unbuckled and stepped out of the car, Raymond was already there — not panicked, not smiling. Still.

“Something happened,” Max said immediately.

Raymond didn’t waste time.

“Belle slipped this morning,” he said calmly. “In the shower. She’s okay. The baby’s okay. But she hurt her wrist — maybe fractured — and she bruised both her knees. She went to the hospital. She’s getting checked out now.”

Max stared at him, brain short-circuiting.

“No—what?”

“She’s fine,” Raymond said quickly, hands half-up like he was trying to keep Max from bolting. “She texted me. She didn’t want to interrupt the session. She didn’t want you to panic.”

Max didn’t move. Couldn’t.

She fell. She fell. She was alone. She got hurt and didn’t call him.

Max didn’t hear anything after “Belle slipped in the shower.”

He didn’t wait for Raymond to finish. He didn’t ask for more details. He just pulled his phone from his pocket with fingers that suddenly felt too cold, too tight, too slow.

He barely registered Raymond saying, “Max, she’s fine — they’re fine,” because his thumb was already hitting her name.

The line rang once.

Twice.

Then: “Max?”

Her voice was quiet. Soft. Tired.

“What happened?” he asked. No greeting. No preamble. Just the question that had sunk claws into his chest.

There was a beat of silence.

“Raymond told you.”

“Belle.”

“I’m okay,” she said, gentle but firm. “I slipped in the shower this morning. Bruised knees, probably sprained my wrist — maybe fractured. The baby’s fine. We got checked. Everything’s fine now.”

He sat down hard on the nearest concrete ledge, head in one hand. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were in the car. I didn’t want to worry you for something that wasn’t… dramatic.”

Max let out a sound — not quite a laugh, not quite a sob. “You falling while you’re pregnant is dramatic, Belle.”

“I got up. I handled it.”

“That’s not the point.”

She didn’t answer for a moment. Then: “I didn’t want you driving off a track at 200 kilometers an hour because I bruised my knees and got scared.”

He closed his eyes. “You got scared?”

Her voice cracked, just slightly. “A little. But I’m okay now. I’m home. Charles drove me back. He’s… still here.”

Max didn’t reply immediately. His hand curled tighter around the phone.

“I should have been there,” he said.

“I know,” she replied. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

He didn’t respond. Just breathed — hard and shallow — because that image was stuck in his head now. Belle, alone. Wet hair. Bruised knees. A hand clutched to her wrist. Their son, safe inside her. And Max — miles away.

“I’m coming home,” he said finally. “Now.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I need to.”

A pause. Then her voice, soft again. “Okay.”

He swallowed. “Are you in bed?”

“Couch. With ice. And a cat.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Charles’s voice drifted faintly in the background — a low murmur, asking something — and Belle answered without pulling the phone away: “He’s on his way.”

Max stood again, the world narrowing to a single point: her.

“I love you,” he said, fierce and quiet.

“I know,” she whispered. “I love you too.”

“Give the phone to Charles.”

Belle hesitated.

“Max—”

“I’m not mad,” he said, though his voice was already fraying at the edges. “But I need to speak to him. Now.”

There was a soft shuffle, a rustle, and a reluctant, “He wants to talk to you,” followed by silence, then:

“Hello?” Charles' voice was low. Careful.

Max didn’t waste time.

“You’re still with her?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Because you’re not leaving.”

Charles blinked on the other end of the line. “I wasn’t planning to—”

“No,” Max cut in, sharper now. “I mean it, Charles. You don’t leave her side until I walk through that door.”

“I—of course. I wasn’t going to���”

“You don’t let her carry groceries. You don’t let her reach for anything above shoulder height. You keep an eye on her knees, and you make sure she drinks water and eats something that’s not toast.”

Charles was silent.

“She’s going to say she’s fine,” Max said, breath catching. “She always does. She minimizes things because she’s used to being the last priority. But she’s not. Not anymore.”

Charles swallowed. “I know that now.”

“No. You start to know it now. So until I’m home — until I see her with my own eyes — you’re staying.”

“…Okay.”

Max’s voice dropped, low and fierce. “Because that’s my wife. And our son. And they’re the most important thing in the world to me. I missed the fall. I won’t miss what comes after.”

There was a long pause.

And then, quietly, Charles said, “I’ll stay. You have my word.”

Max nodded, even though no one could see him. His hand was shaking as he brought it to his face.

“Thank you.”

***

The couch was soft, and her wrist was elevated the way the doctor had told her to keep it. Ice on and off in ten-minute intervals. Max was on his way — she could feel the momentum of it like thunder approaching. He hadn’t said how far out he was. He hadn’t needed to.

Charles hovered in the kitchen, pretending to tidy up the one mug Belle had let herself leave on the counter. His movements were twitchy, like he wanted to be useful but didn’t know how to occupy the silence.

Belle lay back with a soft huff, her knees aching with every shift in position. The bump was rounded now — her belly stretching the soft cotton of the old Red Bull hoodie she was wearing. Max’s, of course.

The front door buzzed.

Charles jumped like she’d slapped him.

“It’s open,” she called.

A second later, Lorenzo appeared, windblown and pink from the autumn. Arthur followed, clutching two paper bags.

“I heard,” Lorenzo said, without preamble. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Belle said. “I just fell. That’s all. Aren’t you supposed to be in Italy, Arthur?!”

“You fell,” Arthur echoed, exasperated. “While pregnant. That’s not just anything.”

She sighed. “Please don’t turn this into a family summit.”

“You scared us,” Lorenzo added, setting one of the bags on the counter. “So we’re allowed to overreact for an afternoon.”

He pulled out a small box and held it out. “Brought cinnamon rolls. Your favorite, right?”

Belle blinked at them. Then shook her head slowly.

“I… can’t eat those. I’m allergic to cinnamon.”

The room stilled.

Arthur blinked. “Since when?”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Since always.”

Lorenzo’s brows furrowed. “But at Christmas—every year, you made cinnamon cookies. Three. Every time. One each for me, Arthur, and Charles.”

Belle smiled faintly. “I never said I ate them.”

Charles, who had been leaning against the kitchen island, suddenly looked like the floor had tilted beneath him.

“You made them every year,” he said slowly, like he was repeating a math equation he’d never properly solved. “Individually. You decorated them. You even remembered that I didn’t like the ones with the icing glaze.”

She nodded.

“But you couldn’t eat them?”

“Nope.”

“And you still made them?” His voice cracked slightly.

Belle met his eyes. Calm. Steady. “I liked the tradition. And it made you smile. That felt like enough.”

None of them spoke.

Arthur sat down heavily in the chair beside her. Lorenzo hovered near the edge of the couch, cinnamon rolls forgotten.

Charles just… stared. His mouth opened, then closed again.

Because she’d never missed a year. Not once. Every December 24th, like clockwork — cinnamon cookies. Warm from the oven. Plated and placed on the edge of the counter.

And she had never taken a bite.

“I didn’t know,” he said softly.

“I know,” Belle replied. “That’s the point.”

Belle shifted on the couch, adjusting the ice pack on her wrist as carefully as she could with one hand. Arthur had stolen the armchair like it belonged to him. Charles sat at the edge of the coffee table, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on her like she might break again if he looked away. Lorenzo had busied himself in the kitchen — not baking, not fussing, just being there. It was more than she was used to.

The box of cinnamon rolls sat unopened on the counter.

Arthur cleared his throat. “So… are we telling Maman?”

Belle didn’t even blink. “Absolutely not.”

Lorenzo let out a low, exhausted laugh from the sink. “Agreed.”

Charles looked startled. “Wait, really?”

Belle turned her head slowly. “Do you want to be responsible for the spiral?”

“She’ll call her entire prayer group,” Arthur muttered.

“She’ll show up with a duffel bag full of vitamin supplements and five volumes of prenatal food myths she found online.” Belle raised a brow. “And then she’ll refuse to leave.”

Charles leaned back slightly, frowning. “But she’d want to know.”

“Oh, she’d want to,” Belle said gently. “But we’re not talking about normal maternal concern, Charles. We’re talking DEFCON one emotional meltdown. And the second she sees a bruise, I become a cautionary tale in every conversation for the next decade.”

Arthur stretched out his legs with a sigh. “She’s been like that since Papa died. The moment one of us gets sick, she acts like it’s a prelude to a funeral.”

“It’s fear,” Lorenzo added quietly. “But it’s weaponized. Like if she controls enough of the environment, nothing bad will happen again.”

“We love her,” Belle said, softer now. “But the only thing worse than being hurt… is watching her panic about it.”

Arthur reached over and gently nudged her uninjured foot with his.

“So we’re agreed,” he said. “This doesn’t leave this room.”

“Not until the bruises fade,” Belle said.

“And Max calms down,” Lorenzo added.

Arthur looked at Charles. “You’re unusually quiet.”

Charles looked down at the floor, then back up at Belle. “I just… didn’t realize how many things you didn’t say. Because you were protecting the rest of us.”

Belle didn’t answer for a moment.

Then: “Now you do.”

And to her surprise — maybe to his too — Charles nodded.

“I won’t forget.”

***

The elevator doors opened, and Max didn’t wait for them to finish sliding apart before stepping out.

His keys were already in hand. The moment he reached the door, he didn’t bother knocking. He let himself in like it was a matter of oxygen.

The apartment was quiet — not silent, but soft with the kind of stillness that said people were there, speaking gently, keeping their voices level.

He stepped inside, heart hammering in his chest.

He saw her first.

She was curled into the corner of the couch, legs folded beneath her, one wrist wrapped and resting on a pillow, her bump rising softly under his old hoodie. Her hair was loose now, a little tangled, and she looked exhausted — but not pale. Not shaking. Just… there.

Breathing.

Safe.

His lungs unclenched for the first time in hours.

Then his eyes registered the rest of the room.

Arthur in the armchair, leaning back with his hands laced over his stomach. Lorenzo standing at the counter, cinnamon rolls on a plate he clearly hadn’t touched. And Charles — sitting on the coffee table, just a little too close to Belle, watching her with that stunned, protective expression Max hadn’t seen from him in years.

All three of them looked up the moment Max stepped inside.

The tension in the air shifted like a current.

No one said a word.

Max crossed the room in three strides and dropped to his knees in front of Belle — hands hovering, unsure for the first time in a long time. His voice was barely a whisper.

“Can I touch you?”

Belle nodded.

His hands moved gently, reverently — one over her knee, the other over the swell of her bump. Then, with visible relief, he pressed his forehead to her stomach and let out a breath like it had been held since morning.

“You’re really okay?” he asked, not looking up.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “He’s okay. Just bruises.”

His hands moved up to her waist, and then he leaned in, finally cupping her face and kissing her temple — long and careful and completely unrushed.

Only then did he glance over his shoulder at her brothers.

His voice didn’t rise, but it carried.

“Thank you,” he said. “For being here.”

Arthur gave a quiet nod. Lorenzo offered a small, surprised smile.

Charles looked like he wasn’t sure whether to stay seated or stand. Max didn’t make him decide.

Instead, Max looked back at Belle.

“You should’ve called me.”

“I didn’t want you to crash a GT3 car over a bruised knee,” she murmured.

He exhaled sharply, a laugh made of panic and adoration. “You think that’s the part I care about?”

“You’re here now,” she said.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ll always be here.”

The brothers gave them space after that — drifting toward the kitchen, murmuring about tea and leftovers and whether or not Arthur remembered how to use Belle’s espresso machine.

Max didn’t move from the floor.

He just held her hand, his thumb brushing the edge of the wrap on her wrist. He hated the bandage. Hated that it was real. That she had needed anyone but him.

But she was okay.

And the baby was okay.

And for now, that was enough.

***

The apartment was quiet again.

Arthur had grumbled something about work. Lorenzo had packed the untouched cinnamon rolls with a guilty look. Charles had lingered, awkward and earnest, before Belle kissed his cheek and told him to stop looking like she was made of glass.

Now it was just her and Max.

She was back on the couch, propped up with pillows and a blanket across her lap. Max sat beside her, one leg bent on the cushion, his body angled toward hers like he was trying to physically shield her from the memory of the morning.

Neither of them had spoken much since the door clicked shut behind Charles.

Now that it was over — the hospital, the retelling, the waiting — she was finally tired. Really, truly tired in the way that settled deep into her bones. The adrenaline had faded, and with it went her deflection, her careful calm.

Max reached for her hand — her uninjured one — and pulled it gently into his lap, rubbing slow circles over her knuckles.

“You scared me,” he said, voice low and rough around the edges.

“I scared myself,” Belle admitted quietly.

He looked down at her knees, still bruised and swollen beneath the blanket. Then his eyes drifted to the wrist brace. “You’re sure nothing’s broken?”

“The scan said no fractures. Just a bad sprain. Some inflammation. The doctor said I should be good as new in a couple weeks if I rest.”

Max nodded, then tilted his head slightly. “And you’re going to rest, right? Not sneak off to your office and Studio B to ‘just review a sketch’ or organize the linen closet or…”

Belle gave him a half-smile. “You say that like I’ve ever been good at resting.”

“I’m saying it like I will hide your laptop, your phone, and maybe your entire bag if I have to.”

She laughed softly — but it faded quickly.

Max’s voice gentled. “What happened, schatje?”

Belle exhaled. “I slipped. That’s it. I wasn’t even rushing. I just… lost my balance. And it wasn’t like a movie fall, you know? It was quiet. Fast. My knees hit first. Then my wrist when I tried to catch myself.”

Max swallowed hard, his jaw twitching.

“I laid there for a while,” she added, voice barely above a whisper. “Not because I was hurt badly — but because I didn’t know who to call.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “You call me.”

“You were on track. Testing. No signal.”

“You still call me.”

Belle didn’t reply right away.

Then, softer: “I didn’t want to be the reason you lost focus. Or got hurt. Or crashed.”

Max shifted closer, cupping her face gently with one hand.

“Listen to me,” he said. “You will never be the reason I fall apart. But if you don’t tell me you’re hurting—if you ever think you have to go through something like this alone—that is what will wreck me.”

She blinked fast. “I wasn’t alone.”

“I know,” he said, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “But it should’ve been me.”

Belle leaned into his touch. “It is now.”

He kissed her forehead. Then her temple. Then the tip of her nose.

“Next time,” he murmured, “we’re putting a non-slip mat in that shower. And rubber ducks with grip soles.”

Belle let out a soft laugh, eyes fluttering closed. “So romantic.”

“Only the best for you.”

His hand slid down to her bump, and Belle covered it with her own.

“He kicked after,” she said quietly. “Right there in the hospital. Like he was saying, ‘Don’t worry, Mama, I’m still here.’”

Max didn’t speak — just rested his forehead against hers, holding their son between them with the reverence of someone who’d nearly lost everything in a heartbeat.

And in that quiet, with the fading sunlight spilling across the floor and the ache slowly retreating from her bones, Belle finally let herself feel safe again.

Because Max was here.

And he wasn’t going anywhere.

***

Text Messages: Jos Verstappen & Max Verstappen

Jos: Raymond told me what happened. Is she alright?

Max: She’s okay now. Sprained wrist. Bruised knees. Baby’s fine. I’m with her.

Jos: Good. That kind of fall could have been worse. You must have been out of your mind.

Max: Still am.

Jos: I’m glad you’re there. I know what it feels like—when they get hurt and you’re not there.

Max: I didn’t know who she’d called. It wasn’t me. That was the worst part.

Jos: She didn’t want to scare you. Women do that. Try to be strong for us even when they’re the ones bleeding.

Max: She shouldn’t have to. She’s not just strong. She’s mine.

Jos: Then protect her. Not with fists or anger. With patience. With time. With the parts of yourself I didn’t teach you how to use.

Max: I’m trying.

Jos: You’re already doing better than I ever did. Tell her I’m glad she’s okay.

Max: I will.

***

They didn’t go home right away.

After leaving Belle’s apartment, the three brothers ended up walking without saying much. First toward the marina. Then past the café Charles used to swear had the best espresso in Monaco — even though none of them had gone there in over a year.

Eventually they sat on a low bench near the water, the kind that always seemed slightly too cold, facing out toward a sky smeared in gold and soft grey.

Lorenzo leaned back, arms stretched over the back of the bench like he needed more room to think. Arthur sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees. Charles stared straight ahead.

No one said anything for a while.

Then Arthur cleared his throat. “She looked small today.”

Charles didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to.

“Not weak,” Arthur added quickly. “Just… I forgot she could get hurt like that. I forgot she was carrying someone else too now.”

Lorenzo exhaled slowly. “It’s not that I forgot. It’s that I didn’t let myself think about it.”

Charles nodded once, almost absently.

“I didn’t even remember she had a cinnamon allergy,” Lorenzo said after a pause. “And she’s been baking those cookies since we were teenagers.”

“I thought she liked doing it,” Charles said. “I thought it made her happy.”

“She made us happy,” Arthur murmured.

Silence again. Heavier this time.

“I keep thinking about the cookies,” Arthur said suddenly. “She didn’t think she was part of the tradition. She thought she was serving it.”

That landed like a rock in Charles’ chest.

He thought of the hospital earlier that day. The bruises on Belle’s knees. The way she’d looked at him when he asked why she hadn’t called. Calm. Not cold — just used to it.

He thought of Max — dropping to his knees beside her, hands trembling, forehead pressed to her stomach like it was sacred ground.

“I don’t want to be the kind of brother she has to survive around,” Charles said.

Lorenzo gave a slow nod. “Then let’s stop being that.”

“And start noticing,” Arthur added.

Charles looked out toward the water, letting the silence sit for a beat before saying, “Do you think she’ll ever trust us again?”

Lorenzo didn’t look at him. Just said quietly, “She let us in the apartment, didn’t she?”

Arthur stood first. “That’s a start.”

And Charles — baby brother turned golden son turned witness to everything he missed — stood too.

He didn’t know how to fix it yet.

But for the first time in years, he wasn’t pretending it didn’t need fixing.

***

Text Messages: Charles Leclerc & Lewis Hamilton

Charles: I just wanted to say thank you. For being there that night. With Belle. When she had the car accident. 

Lewis:

I wasn’t going to leave her. She looked like she’d been through hell. And that car was a complete wreck. She didn’t want me to call you. When it happened. 

Charles: …what?

Lewis:

When I said I was going to call your phone, she grabbed my arm. Begged me not to.

Charles:

I didn’t… I didn’t know it was like that.

Lewis:

No. You didn’t. And I get it — families are complicated. But she didn’t trust you to see her hurt.

She didn’t believe she’d be safe if you saw her vulnerable.

Charles:

That’s not how I meant to make her feel.

Lewis:

Then change it. She didn’t need someone to fix the crash. She needed someone who wouldn’t look away from the wreckage.

Charles:

Do you think she still sees me like that?

Lewis:

I think she wants to see something else. But that’s on you. Not her.

Charles:

I’m going to fix it. I’m not going to be the person she’s scared of anymore.

Lewis:

Good. Then show up. Not just when she’s bleeding. But when she’s quiet.

That’s when she needs someone most.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hülkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sargeant, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll, Valtteri Bottas, Pierre Gasly and Yuki Tsunoda)

Lewis: I think Charles might actually be learning. Like… real emotional growth. Apologizing. Listening. Not centering himself.

Daniel: 👏 Character 👏 Development 👏 😮‍💨 Took him fucking long enough.

Sebastian: Growth. Late, but welcome.

George: Did he cry? That’s when you know it’s real. I want misty eyes and a cracking voice.

Carlos: Crying is the bare minimum at this point. He let Belle plan his birthdays for a decade and forgot hers.

Lando: okay WHO is this Charles and what did you do with the emotionally constipated one?

Alex: Honestly though… Good for him.

Fernando: Took him long enough.

Oscar: Should we make a certificate? “Congratulations, you’re no longer a liability to your sister’s mental health.”

Logan: We should throw him a party. One he doesn’t make Belle organize.

Valtteri: I’ll bring the emotional support coffee.

David: Someone check if Charles is running a fever.

Mark: I’m just glad someone else is parenting the grid’s feelings for once.

Daniel: Progress, boys. It’s happening. Everyone hydrate and emotionally prepare.

Lewis:

He’s trying. For once, I believe him. Let’s see if he follows through.

Oscar: If he doesn’t, I vote Belle gets to slap him. On camera. For science.

Lando: I’ll bring popcorn.

[kitty384]

The Day You Forgot

Summary: Bucky forgets their wedding anniversary. Y/N tries to play it cool—but old wounds from a life of being unseen come back with a vengeance. When Bucky realizes what he’s done, he does everything in his power to make it right.

Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, emotional neglect (accidental), trauma references (implied past emotional abandonment), self-worth issues, mild crying, soft apology, romantic fluff, married couple dynamic

It wasn’t the missed dinner reservation that stung.

Or the fact that Y/N had spent the whole afternoon curling her hair, soft makeup dusted across her cheeks, slipping into a dress that still had the boutique tag on it from six months ago.

It wasn’t even the fact that she had reminded him.

Twice.

No—what hurt most was the silence. The way he walked into their shared apartment like it was any other day. Tossed his jacket on the hook. Pulled his boots off with a tired sigh. Didn’t even look her way before muttering something about “another long day at the compound” and disappearing into the kitchen.

No kiss.

No smile.

No “Happy anniversary, doll.”

Y/N stood there like an idiot, one hand lightly brushing the necklace she wore—his wedding gift to her last year. A single gold charm in the shape of a star, for the one he always said guided him home.

Tonight, he hadn’t even noticed it.

She told herself it was fine. That he was tired. That maybe Steve had needed him or Sam got on his nerves again or there was another mission briefing he couldn’t get out of. Maybe he'd planned something but was waiting until later. Midnight surprise. A private dinner in the park. Anything.

But when she padded quietly to the kitchen and found him elbows-deep in leftover pizza from the fridge, her heart sank.

There was no secret plan.

No gift tucked away in a drawer.

Not even a flicker of recognition when she softly said, “Hey, um… do you know what today is?”

Bucky looked up with a mouth full of pepperoni and blinked.

“Uh… Thursday?”

Her throat closed.

She gave him a tight smile. “Yeah. Thursday.”

And then she turned before he could see her eyes water and walked straight to the bathroom, locking the door with shaking hands.

She sat on the edge of the tub, trying to breathe through it.

It wasn’t about the anniversary, not really. It was the feeling that always followed her like a shadow, no matter how many years had passed since Hydra or how much healing she thought she’d done. The feeling of being forgettable.

Unseen.

As if she was only important when someone needed her. A tool, not a person.

Her past was paved with broken promises and missed birthdays. Foster homes that “forgot” to pick her up from school. Scientists who treated her like a number. People who never looked twice.

And tonight—he had forgotten.

The one person who always saw her. The man who’d held her in the middle of the night when she couldn’t stop shaking. Who traced her scars like they were constellations. Who married her with a trembling voice and a look in his eyes that promised forever.

He forgot.

She wiped her eyes quickly and stood. No breakdown. No spiral. Just—quiet. She opened the cabinet, pulled out a pack of makeup wipes, and began erasing the hours she spent trying to look like someone worth remembering.

Bucky noticed too late.

Way too late.

It wasn’t until he heard the sink running that he glanced at the clock on the microwave—and froze.

April 3rd.

His chest went cold.

“Shit.”

He dropped the half-eaten slice of pizza, heart racing. Panic bloomed in his throat as he ran through every second of the day—had she said something? Had he missed the signs?

Of course he had. Because he was tired and distracted and so sure he’d set a reminder but hadn’t. His phone was on silent all day. He hadn’t even looked at the date.

He sprinted down the hall, knocking lightly on the bathroom door.

“Doll?”

No answer.

His gut twisted.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I—can I come in?”

Still nothing.

He pressed his forehead against the door. “Please.”

There was a pause. Then the lock clicked softly.

The door cracked open a sliver.

She stood in the doorway, in her pajamas now. Her hair pinned up, makeup gone, eyes rimmed pink. The star necklace was gone.

His heart broke in real time.

“I forgot,” he said immediately, voice raw. “I forgot, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stared at him with the saddest smile he’d ever seen.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

“No. It’s not.” He reached for her, hesitating just before his hands touched her arms. “Please, baby. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t—dammit, I was gonna plan something, I swear. I just…”

She looked down.

He finally touched her—soft hands sliding to her waist, pulling her close. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s not just the date, Bucky.”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Her voice cracked. “Because when you forgot, it felt like I wasn’t important. Like I was just another thing that didn’t matter unless someone needed me. And I know that’s not true. I know you love me. But my brain still goes there. It still whispers all those awful things I grew up hearing.”

He hugged her tighter. “You do matter. More than anything. I don’t deserve you, but I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. And I will spend every single day proving that to you. Even on the days I fuck it up.”

Her arms curled around his waist, and she buried her face in his chest.

He kissed her hair, voice muffled against her. “I’ll make it right.”

“You already are,” she murmured.

That night, Bucky dragged the couch cushions to the floor and made a makeshift fort in their living room with twinkly fairy lights and every blanket they owned. He heated up hot cocoa. Made her sit on a pile of pillows while he massaged her feet and read her poetry from one of the books he’d gotten her last Christmas.

And when she fell asleep curled into his side, his heart aching from the guilt, he whispered into her hair:

“I’ll never forget again. You’re unforgettable, doll. Even when I’m an idiot.”

She stirred slightly, her fingers clutching his shirt.

And for the first time that night, she smiled.

Masterlist

Request

[sakkiichi]

COVER ME IN SUNSHINE.

Ways in which your kid calls his dad. Will he get to hear a ‘papa’?

ft. Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Neuvillette x gn! reader.

cw/genre: pure fluff. Reader is referred to as ‘mama’, you and the character have a child. They’re all girl dads.

a birthday present for my dearest @bunny-rambles 🩵 i’m wishing you the best day today and always, hun ! ilysm, thank you for always being by my side. I hope we can celebrate many many more birthdays together, mwah <3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ note: about this fic… i struggled quite a little with it, and i’m sorry it’s not my best piece… this was a totally new concept to write for me, but i still hope you can enjoy, bunbun, dear ♡

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

Wide indigo orbs meet his furrowed gaze.

Scaramouche is not amused.

Or at least that’s what he wants whoever sees him right now to believe. Namely, you.

Tiny hands cup the Wanderer’s cheeks, big eyes, so similar to his, staring up at him in wonder. The little girl in his arms squeezes his face, a pout forming on her father’s lips. Giggles erupt from her smiling lips, the corners of Scaramouche’s mouth unconsciously tilting upwards.

“You’re amused, huh?” Your husband asks, rocking the baby in his hold. She stares at him, her little arms flailing upward, giggling happily.

“Moochie!” She babbles, trying to stand on the wanderer’s knees, her hands reaching for his hat.

“Hey, hey, now!” Kunikuzushi pouts, securing his hat. “That is not a toy and I’m not Moochie…”

“Moochie!” His daughter repeats, poking his cheek.

He sighs.

“Not Moochie…” Scaramouche’s ears take on a rather rosy tone, especially when your giggles are not exactly inconspicuous, your attempt at keeping hidden just outside the living room, obviously half-assed.

“Pa-pa. Not Moochie.” He repeats, bopping his little one’s nose. “And here, play with this.” He offers, handing his baby a doll curiously identical to himself.

Your eyes soften from your spot when you observe the fond smile on your lover’s face. He might feign annoyance, but when it came to your baby, all the facade was scattered to the winds. Storm clouds and lightning seemed so far away when he was surrounded by the blue skies and birdsong that dawned with your daughter’s hand grabbing his finger.

“Pa..” The little one begins, lifting the doll, as if indicating that it indeed represents her father.

“Pa…” Your wanderer prompts, as he points to the cloth mini version of himself.

Then, the girl’s eyes focus somewhere beyond her dad, tiny hands wiggling and waving, the plush doll still in her grasp.

“Mama!” She exclaims, making to reach for you, trying to climb over the sofa’s backrest, where it not for your partner’s protective hold.

Finally stepping out from your hideout, you walk towards them.

Familiar warm arms wrap around the no longer broken puppet, as your precious baby rests between your two heartbeats. Yours, steady, undeniably human. His, bloomed anew, thanks to you; with a newfound tune, sweeter, gentler, thanks to his little one.

Scaramouche closes his eyes, lashes of now starlit midnights resting on his perfect cheekbones. His head leans on your shoulder, your lips feather-light on his dusky hair, as your hands gently lift his hat a bit.

Your girl grabs one of her father’s fingers once more, the handmade mini wanderer kept close to her chest.

Yes, storms were definitely over for days to come.

✧ ALBEDO

A tug on the leg of his pants and familiar unintelligible noises pull the alchemist out of his task.

Albedo’s features soften when he spots the cause of his distraction.

Putting the notebook he was currently scribbling on aside, he crouches down.

“And who do we have here?” The chalk prince asks, smoothing the golden locks on his baby’s small head.

“Mama?” She replies, her tiny hand pulling on her dad’s clothes.

The gesture is followed by one of Albedo’s gentle chuckles, eyes like northern stars on clear nights bright at the sight of his daughter.

“Mama’s not here now, little princess.” He explains, as he picks the baby up. “They will get home soon, though.” Your child stares at him as if unsatisfied with the answer, head slightly tilted to the side. “How about we have some fun in the meantime?”

Giggles that always reminded Albedo of sunshine days at dragonspine are the answer that follows.

Taking his little one’s two hands in his, the chief alchemist helps his daughter take a few trembling steps, the baby happily padding on the wooden floor.

“There we go, princess!” Your lover chuckles, sitting the girl securely on the beige couch. Teal eyes flecked in emerald follow your partner’s movements, as he rummages through your living room’s drawers.

A few seconds later, more incomprehensible joyful babbles follow, when he sits by your daughter’s side, his hands expertely setting the supplies he retrieved on the low table. She stares at him intently, her gaze drawn to the vibrant crayons cluttering the tabletop’s surface.

“What should we draw today, my princess?” Are Albedo’s words, as he hands his child a light blue pencil, its tip dulled so she can’t hurt herself.

“Snow!” She exclaims, her tiny feet kicking back and forth in excitement, eliciting chuckles from her dad.

“You want to paint snow, my little cecilia?” He asks, combing through her blonde strands. “Alright, how about we paint you, mama and papa building a snowman?”

“Yay!” Your baby reaches for the blank paper, wonder and excitement written all over her rounded features, her tongue sticking out the corner of her small mouth. She always loved to draw and paint, especially when it was with Albedo. And even if her pictures often ended up turning out as just criss-crossing lines or messy splotches, you and your husband always kept every single one of them, displayed as priceless masterpieces on the fridge’s door, the living room walls or your study.

After a few minutes of focused work, three figures start taking form over a background of messily drawn blue snowflakes.

“Look, dearie.” Albedo calls. “Who are these?”

His girl looks up at him, a huge smile on her face as she bites the pencil.

“Mama! Me! And Papa!” She answers proudly, pointing at each of the figures.

Albedo’s eyes widen, gilded sparks reflected in the cloudless skies of his irises at his daughter’s words.

Those last two syllables.

His own pencil falls out of his grasp, clattering to the carpeted floor. In this moment, nothing else exists, save for the jingling echo of his daughter’s angelic tone.

“Papa?” She asks, tugging on his sleeve.

Albedo picks the little girl up, rising her as she laughs, unaware.

“Can you say it again, little princess? ‘Papa’.”

“Papa! Papa!” Giggles leave her throat.

Softly, Albedo places a kiss on her kid’s forehead, hugging her as the both of them lay down on the sofa.

When you got home, silence greets you, broken only by even breaths. Smiling to yourself, you brush a kiss against your husband’s and your daughter’s hair, a new painting adorning the walls after you gently throw a blanket over the sleeping figures of your two treasures.

✧ XIAO

“Do you want to hold her, Xiao? She’s been looking at you for a while.” You chuckle, your gaze softened when it sets upon your yaksha.

Golden eyes, not unlike the child’s currently on your arms, shadow in fear and shame for a moment.

What if he hurts the baby? What if his karma taints her somehow? What if-

“Xiao.” Your hand finds his gloved one, centuries of bloodshed written in the concealed scars. “She’ll be okay.” You reassure, a gentle squeeze, as your fingers slot between his.

The adeptus glances in his daughter’s direction, her round amber eyes curiously observing him.

Your husband’s jaw sets, his lips drawn in a taut line. If someone were to look at him now, they may think he’s sulking, the furrow of his brow apparently an indication to steer clear.

You, however, know better.

“Here, I’m with you, love.” You softly utter, placing your daughter in her father’s arms.

The baby stares up at her dad in awe, her little hands fiddling with the necklace he always wears.

She’s so small… such a pure and precious being… will she be safe with him?

Just as these thoughts plague his mind, the girl curls up in his embrace, nuzzling against his toned torso.

“See? She adores you, Xiao…” You tell him, knuckles brushing against your baby’s soft full cheek. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?” She turns around, a smile drawing on her lips, as she buries herself further into Xiao, whose cheeks have gone as red as the carmine lining his eyes.

“H-hello, little qingxin…” Xiao greets her, awkwardly rubbing her back.

In response, his baby tilts her head slightly backwards, the molten suns in her stare illuminating her father’s rusted gold gaze.

“Papa!” She goes, a little clumsy, it sounding more like ‘dada’.

The vigilant yaksha’s eyes widen, his heart feeling like a million bright lanterns floating towards a starry sky.

“Xiao! She said ‘papa’! See? She loves you!” You excitedly chant, hugging your husband’s waist, as you pepper kisses all over his face. “You are her first word, dear, our baby adores her dad so much. I knew she would!” A smile tugs at your lips, lids fluttering closed as you rest your cheek on Xiao’s shoulder.

His hands hover around his daughter, his hold on her delicate, as if she was a newly bloomed flower whose petals could vanish if the wind blew too strongly.

“Papa…” The girl repeats, her chubby cheek squished against’s Xiao’s form. Her eyes are droopy, a little yawn escaping her as she settles more comfortably in her father’s embrace.

Your adeptus heaves out a sigh of relief, the warmth of a familiar fireplace swarming all around him, as if candid candle flames were running through his veins when the soft snores of his daughter reach his ears.

The conqueror of demons’ mask would be shed for tonight.

✧ CHILDE

Small hands are glued to the window’s glass panes, a pair of bright blue eyes staring awestruck at the image currently taking place in your garden.

Flashes of crystalline cyan flit across the air as Childe wields his double blades, merging them into a spear, his muscles taut at the effort.

The little girl’s tiny hands curl into fists, as she leans forward in anticipation, marine gaze following her father’s movements.

He reminds her of the illustrations she’s seen in the picture books Teucer has shown her before.

She must get closer.

Looking over her shoulder, your daughter makes sure you’re busy with something in the kitchen.

Her plan can be put into action now.

Crawling towards the door on all fours, she realizes she’s nowhere near tall enough to reach the handle.

Oh, but she takes after you, and will not be deterred by something like this.

Silently, the baby makes her way towards the dog you took in. He’s big and fluffy and very peaceful, often keeping company to the little girl. With a gentle pat to his side, she looks up at him with those big blue eyes and, despite his instinct to keep her safe, the puppy obliges to her demand.

Folding his paws, the animal lowers himself to the ground, allowing your daugher to climb. A vivid spark flashes through her ocean eyes, tiny hands securing on her companion’s fur.

And just as she was about to reach the door opening to the garden, a familiar voice that’s lulled her to sleep many a night stops her in her tracks.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, little lady.” You stand a couple feet away from her, hands on your hips, your concern masked with masterfully feigned anger.

Your baby stares up at you, that oceanic gaze puppy-like, much like her father did when you were mad at him.

“Mama…” She mumbles, her little hands signaling to where Childe is training outside, sounds you can’t understand leaving her pouty lips.

You sigh, kneeling to pick her up, rubbing your dog’s chin gently.

“So you want to see papa training, don’t you, little troublemaker?” You prompt, smiling as you tickle her belly. She giggles, wiggling her legs in your hold. “Alright, just this once, and because he’s almost finished with his routine.” You warn, softly pinching her cheek.

Once outside, you both stare at the harbinger, you, with heating cheeks; your daughter, in admiration and wonder.

Then:

“Papa!” She calls, energetically waving to her father, as you have to struggle so she doesn’t fall out of your grasp.

Suddenly, Ajax’s hydro blades vanish, a rare glow present in the eyes that are so like his daughter’s. A wide grin spreads across his sun-kissed features, arms opening as he runs towards you and his baby.

“Papa! Papa!” His daughter repeats, as your husband hugs the both of you.

No matter how cold Snezhnaya’s blizzards blew, Ajax would always have his personal patch of sunshine in you two.

✧ KAEYA

Calla lilies surround the scene, their russet-hued petals aglow in the blue shimmer of the statue of the seven standing amidst the lake.

Dusk approaches, the sky still dyed in shades of tangerine and cherry blossom, the sun, a glimmering halo right above the horizon.

Over frondous grass spotted in sun and shadow, a blanket lies, its baby blue pattern fading into the multiple colors of the snacks scattered above it: portions of cake you baked the afternoon prior; sandwitches carefully cut in triangle shapes; handpicked apples and sunsettias, cut and placed into plates by your lover.

But perhaps the most vivid color of them all was that of the couple sitting atop it.

A couple and their daughter.

“You really liked this pie, didn’t you, little lily?” Kaeya coos at his baby, her chubby cheeks littered with crumbs of the soft cake she’s been devouring all afternoon. Two pairs of ice blue eyes meet each other beneath the setting sun, the girl’s giggles eliciting a chuckle from her father’s lips as he carefully wipes her face. “Mama will be mad if you stain your dress, little princess.” The cavalry captain points out, in mock scolding.

His reprimand is met with a bashful smile and his kid cuddling into him, her tiny hands clutching his clothes.

“Kaeya, don’t tease her!” You swat at his arm playfully, soft laughter leaving the both of you as your husband smooths over your girl’s hair, placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Don’t pay any mind to papa, now.” You reassure her, tenderly brushing over her chubby hands. “He’s a little silly sometimes.”

The girl looks up at you, those iceberg toned eyes wide in wonder at the world that she still has to discover around her.

You ruffle her hair, as she turns around in Kaeya’s embrace, settling on top of his legs, staring up at him.

“Papa!” She announces, taking ahold of Kaeya’s long braid, playing with it. “Papa… prince!” She points out, as she grabs one of the dolls she brought: a boy wearing a crown.

With a knowing grin, you shift closer to your lover, leaning against his side.

“Yes, little sweetheart, you’re right, papa is a prince.” Kaeya’s hand locks with yours over his shoulder, fingers laced together, the warmth of his touch so paradoxical, given the freeze he commands.

“And that is why you’re our little princess.” The knight tells your baby, as he places a stray calla lily on her hair.

“Princess!” She happily babbles, rising her arms.

Instances like this… they truly stoked gentle flames around the captain’s heart, oftentimes concealed behind apparently crystalline walls of frost. As long as he had the two of you, at least during brief moments like this, there would be no need for practiced facades.

Across the distant horizon, even dusk seemed to delay, allowing a few more seconds of luminous skies for the family sitting below it, a flickering smile crossing the anemo archon’s face of stone.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

Slate skies expand above him, his opal eyes restless oceans in the tears they contain, painted lashes dripping in midnight droplets.

Rainbow roses seem to weep too, their petals downcast, the sunrise shades of their blossoms muted in the downpour.

Neuvillette stands alone, the garden of your shared home melancholy; the trees too bare, the grass ashen, the flowers wilting.

Save for the pitter-patter of rusted silver droplets, silence reigns the scene.

The hydro dragon’s mood had a tendency to be mirrored in the heavens over Fontaine, after all.

Sighing, the Chief Justice takes a sit by a bush of lumidouce bells. Fitting, for someone whose shoulders slump not unlike the petals of the periwinkle hued blooms.

“Neuvi, love.” A familiar voice calls him, gently. “What are you doing out there in this weather, dear?”

Long argent locks of hair shift, like seafoam by moonlight, when he turns around, water, from the rain, or his tears, or both, running down his cheeks.

“Someone has come to see you, my love.” You softly utter, beckoning your husband towards the porch, the impending cacophony of his racing mind and falling downpour partially silencing.

Neuvillette’s features warm up a bit the moment he realizes who you’re talking about.

A little girl placidly rests between your arms, eyes of crystalline dusk looking up at her father. Unlike his, hers are rounded, lacking the dark circles frequently etched under your lover’s.

“Look who’s here, little rainbow.” You coo at your daughter, who tries chasing after your wiggling fingers, right as you playfully poke her belly. “Papa is here, do you perhaps want to play with him?”

The baby looks at you, one of her tiny fists on her mouth, as her eyes crinkle up in crescents. Then, she turns towards her dad, arms reaching out.

“Papa! Papa!” She laughs, inclining her flexible small torso towards him.

Neuvillette’s gaze widens, placing his hands around his little girl, protectively cradling her in his embrace.

“Papa is here, sunshine.” Your lover assures her, as he leans down to kiss her nose.

In the distance, a familiar arch shoots across the heavens, the violet of goodbyes and separations shifting into rosy affection.

Golden replaces dull steel, flecks of it dotting the grass, remnants of rain clinging like emeralds to the verdant stems.

The sun is out. The hydro dragon cries no more.

[ldrfanatic]

Oh Bella

Italian!Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

synopsis - 3 times the reader teases Theo’s Italian roots + 1 time she celebrates them

cute, lazy fluff, no angst just happy vibes for a happy christmas :)

slytherin boys masterlist works

warning - internet translated Italian

(got these ideas from Ben and Fabio on instagram they’re so funny)

It wasn’t easy to date Theodore Nott. It was always rewarding but it wasn’t always easy.

For starters, Theo grew up in Italy and has one of the thickest Italian accents you’ve ever heard. There were a few times over the course of your relationship that you had to ask him to repeat himself a few times. Like when he was trying to tell you that Draco had invited you out on a double date with himself and Hermione.

You had just woken up from a nap when Theo walked into the Slytherin common room after quidditch practice. He flashed you a breath taking smile and all but skipped up to you as you rubbed your tired eyes. You felt your heart melting in your chest at the sight of your adorable boyfriend.

“Buongiorno Bella.” (good morning beautiful) Theo swooped down and delivered a soft kiss to the side of your face before plopping down next to you on the couch. “Guess what?” You hummed in response as you snuggled deep into his side.

“What’s up Theo?”

“At quidditch practice today, Draco says that you and I, we can go out double with them.”

In your tired brain, Theo’s words made even less sense. You sat up from his side and stared at him with your brows furrowed. “Huh?” Theo stared blankly back at you. He brushed a piece of your hair away from your face.

“Still asleep, Bella?”

You shook your head lightly but it didn’t convince either of you entirely. A chuckle rumbled through Theo and his chest vibrated in laughter.

“Draco says we can go double out with Herminone.”

Now it was your turn to laugh at the way Theo pronounced Hermione’s name. You’d all been friends for about two years now since she and Draco had started dating, but he still couldn’t quite pronounce her name correctly.

Finally deciphering his thick accent and slightly broken, but still cute English, realization dawned upon you. You tried to smother a smile as you stared at your boyfriend in pure adoration. “You mean he invited us to double date with them?”

Theo looked at you for a few seconds before standing up and sighing a little dramatically.

“Mio dio Bella, that’s what I said”

“Mmm of course, Theo.”

So, dating Theodore Nott was not without its challenges. But it also wasn’t without its fun.

1.

It was Mattheo’s birthday so of course the Slytherin common room was filled to the brim with drugs, alcohol, and probably the sluttiest girls in all of Hogwarts. Theo was sitting at a table off in the corner with both of your guys’ drinks and was noticeably uncomfortable in such an environment.

You’d gone to get ice for your sex on the beach when you had a mischevious idea. You scooped a little more ice into the cup and started making your way back to Theo.

You caught sight of Mattheo what was sitting on one of the large couches dead center in the room. He had three girls all over him right now and Lorenzo was giggling uncontrollably as he passed him a joint. Mattheo caught your eye and winked playfully. He liked to flirt with you to rile Theo up a little bit every once in a while.

You finally made it back to your table where Theo was swirling a deep red wine in a glass. His lips quirked up in a small smile as you took your seat next to him. Without speaking, he reached out and pulled your chair impossibly closer to his before throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Ciao Bella.”

Your entire body bloomed at the sound of his thick accent over his husky voice. Warmth settled over you like a fluffy blanket on a snowy morning.

“Ciao Theo.”

The surprise on Theo’s face was more than enough to make you happy that you’d taken up Italian recently. You practiced with Lorenzo in some of your free time and he was a pretty good teacher. You made eye contact with Theo and winked before settling into his side.

Theo immediately became suspicious as you were known for your antics.

“What are you up to Il mio piccolo piantagrane, hm?” (my little troublemaker)

“Nothing Theo, relax.”

He stared at you suspiciously for a few seconds before his body finally loosened.

The opportunity was too great to miss.

You leaned over both of your drinks and dumped ice into your sex on the beach before then dropping a few ice cubes into Theo’s wine.

His reaction was nearly instantaneous.

“Oh! Bella, no! No, no, no!” His lips turned up in disgust and multiple muted expressions left his mouth in what you assumed were Italian swears.

“Che diavolo? Ghiaccio nel vino? No! Il vino è sacro.”

(what the hell? ice in wine? no! wine is sacred.)

A large hand came and ran through his messy curls and the laugh you’d been surprising burst suddenly from your chest. Theo’s eyes snapped to yours and you recognized the mischievous glint.

A squeal left your mouth as you leapt up from your seat and took off around the common room with him hot on your tail.

2.

The second time that you decided to make your poor sweet Italian boyfriend question all decisions to be with you was at dinner one night. You weren’t intentionally teasing him at first as you stared down at your empty plate trying to think of what you wanted.

You glanced over to Theo’s plate next to you and saw a mouthwatering pasta that he’d conjured. You tugged gently on the sleeve of his green sweater and his attention found yours immediately.

“What’s wrong, bellissima?”

“Can you get me some of that, please Theo?”

“Of course.”

He took your plate in his hands and after a few seconds his dish was sitting in front of you. You noted how he made sure there were no tomatoes in yours like there were in his. Theo knew you hated tomatoes. It was so sweet it almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do to his little Italian heart.

Almost.

Theo picked up his fork and started to dig into his food before he stopped abruptly. Lorenzo too stopped eating his own food and the pair stared at you incredulously as you shoveled the pasta into your mouth.

“Oh Bella.”

He seemed more horrified than anything else. You loaded more food into your mouth being careful to eat as much as a lady as you could.

“No.” You stared at him blankly with a sheepish look before resuming your meal. “Bella, no. Twirl. Like this,” Theo picked up his fork and expertly swirled the noodles around before bringing it up to his mouth.

You offered him a gentle grin before promptly resuming what you were doing before. From across the table Lorenzo started whisper screaming at Theo in Italian.

“Theo, Cosa c'è che non va nella tua ragazza? Lei mangia la pasta come una bambina!” (what’s wrong with your girlfriend? she eats pasta like a child!)

Theo stared at you astounded as redness crept up his face. Then it finally dawned on him that you were teasing.

“Bella per favoreee.” He dragged out his words with a small smile on his face at your teasing. You both knew that you knew the proper way to eat pasta.

“No more teasing love.” You nodded through your giggles and Theo wrapped a thick arm around your waist and pulled you into his side.

3.

So, you knew that you promised Theo no more teasing last week but when you overheard him and Lorenzo complaining earlier in the most adorable stuttered English you couldn’t help yourself. You were walking down towards the common room to get lunch with the boys.

Theo, Lorenzo, and Mattheo were sitting in the common room all having a discussion. Suddenly you heard your boyfriend’s sweet Italian symphony of a voice shift into one of astonishment. You peeked around the corner and saw both him and Lorenzo staring at Mattheo like he’d just said the most offensive thing ever.

“What do you mean you have the cappuccino in the afternoon, huh?” His fingers came to rub at his temples and you had to stifle your laugh behind your hand. “Puah! cappuccino è solo per la mattina.” (Cappuccino is only for the morning).

Mattheo stared blankly at the two. Finally you decided to step in before the vein in Theo’s forehead burst.

“Theo? I’m ready.”

By the time that you made it to the Great Hall, the boys seemed to have forgotten about their earlier conversation. Mattheo walked quietly in step next to you while Theo and Lorenzo conversed in Italian so quickly your head was spinning.

“Psst. Y/n I have an idea on how to make that little Italian boy of yours blow a fuse.”

(“Maledizione Lorenzo, non credi che se sapessi cosa regalarle non andrei fuori di testa?”)

You cursed yourself that you couldn’t understand what they were saying. After staring at the side of Theo’s handsome face for a few moments longer you let out a disgruntled noise and turned to Mattheo.

“Fine! What?”

And that was how you found yourself in this situation.

Trying your absolute hardest to keep a straight face without looking at Theo at all while you sipped on your cappuccino that you’d conjured in your cup.

“Oh Bella.”

Theo’s familiar distressed tone rang out from next to you. “You cannot be series, amore mio.”

“Do you mean serious, Theo?” Mattheo chimed in with an amused smirk.

Theo made a dismissive Italian noise and waved Mattheo off. He swore under his breath before grabbing the side of your face and turning it to him. “Bellissima, it is too late for a cappuccino!”

You smirked up at your distraught boyfriend and pressed a quick kiss to the softness of his cheek. “I know, amore.”

Theo stared at you before throwing his hands up in the air and turning back towards his lunch. Mattheo’s deep laugh burst out and you couldn’t help yourself but to laugh along with him.

You were so busy laughing you hadn’t noticed that Theo was staring at you with a smile. He was so very in love with you.

+ one time you celebrated Theo’s Italian roots

April 25th was meant to be celebratory. La Festa della Resistenza. And Theodore Nott was stuck at quidditch practice.

Meanwhile, you were scurrying around the common room with Lorenzo trying to set up the perfect surprise for Theo. With Italy’s Liberation Day approaching, you’d noticed Theo had been a little down lately. You knew that it was because he was missing his family.

Normally, his mother would prepare a big feast and the family would sing the song of the resistance, Bella Ciao. You’d taken a floo to his home in Italy and gotten some recipes from his mother directly, all his favorites. And now, you were trying desperately to teach a group of first year Slytherins how to sing the song that you’d been practicing for weeks.

You sighed deeply as you realized the little buggers you bribed with a few galleons each were not at all going to get the song down in time. You conjured your purse and shelled out a few galleons to each child before shooing them out of the common room.

By the time Theo got back from quidditch practice, everything was perfect. You were standing in the center of the room in a deep red dress that you knew was his favorite. When he saw the spread, Theo thought his heart might stop. You looked nothing short of stunning.

“Oh Bella.”

It didn’t hold any of the distress that it normally did. This time his tone was thick with adoration. Theo felt a lump moving up his throat that caught tears behind his eyes. His heart clenched in his chest. This was one of the most thoughtful things that anyone had ever done for him.

Just when he was certain you couldn’t get anymore perfect, your sweet voice rang out in an impossibly beautiful symphony that rivaled Pavarotti.

“Una mattina mi sono alzato

O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao

Una mattina mi sono alzato

E ho trovato l'invasor.”

Theo held you closer to his chest and pressed his forehead against yours as he joined for the next verse.

“O partigiano, portami via

O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao

O partigiano, portami via

Che mi sento di morir.”

The two of you swayed as Lorenzo joined and the three of you sang the rest of the song together. When you finished, you all made plates and sat down in the common room.

“When did you learn all of this, Bella?”

You smiled gently at Theo while he stared at you like you were the most perfect being in the world.

“I took a trip to Italy to see your mother a little bit ago. She told me about La Festa della Resistenza the Celebration of the Resistance. She talked about how important it was to Italy’s history and that it marked the Resistance victory in the Italian Civil War. Then when I saw how sad you were to be away from home at this time I knew I had to do something.”

In that moment, Theo knew that there wasn’t anybody he’d ever loved as much as he loved you. He took your face in both of his hands and pressed a deep kiss to your lips.

“This is perfect, bellissima, thank you so much.”

[theonottsbxtch]

OSCAR PIASTRI MASTERLIST

codes: ✦ angst

ONE SHOTS

✦ amnesia - ex!reader summary: it has been a while since oscar and his girlfriend broke up, but some days he wishes he could wake up with amnesia. he misses her, he misses them, he loves her, but she doesn't love him.

million dollar woman - millionaire!reader summary: she knew he was an f1 driver, he knew she did something in an office. money was never talked about, it just existed - what oscar didn't know was that she was arguably much richer than he is

forgotten birthday | gf!reader summary: she knew oscar had a busy schedule, but her boyfriend of so many years forgetting her birthday still hurt more than she cared to admit. unless, had he?

✦ courage | best friend!reader summary: in their small beat up town you had two options. get out or stay stuck in the same vicious cycle fell into - drugs, alcohol and partying. oscar knew what he wanted to do, her however, he wasn't too sure.

✦ haunted | catholic!oscar summary: ever since he left for univeristy, he stopped going to church. but when things got shit there is only one place you can go to. the pretty cathedral in the town centre called his name, or did it? was it the cathedral or was it the voice?

high school sweethearts | uni!oscar summary: step one, you must accept that i'm a little out my mind. she was the weird girl, insane even - no body liked her, but oscar did.

new years dream | uni!oscar x singer!reader summary: oscar couldn't count how long he'd spent loving his best friend, but she was her and he was him. there was no way she could love him. on a night out on new years he finds her, he sees her and he wishes the words didn't dry up on his tongue.

sports car | zak's daughter!reader summary: she wants him. she wants him and his sports car, and she doesn't care how scandlous it gets if she'll get a ride on him and the car

✦ silver spoon | gf!reader summary: she was raised in fear, never knowing whether the next words spewed at her would be words of love or hatred. he was raised with the light left on and words of praise. they say opposites attract, but not in every scenario.

✦ kiss of death | uni!oscar summary: each valentine's day she gets her heart broken, each valentines all oscar can do is watch. until this year, this year he swears he'll tell her.

✦ good luck babe | ex bestfriend!reader summary: he told her that her life would end up this way, he told her she wouldn't be happy and now all he can do is sit there and say i told you so.

timezone | ex!reader summary: oscar fucked up, he let the love of his life slip out of his hands and enough is enough. he needs her back.

a loyal heart | redcoat!oscar summary: following lando's story in redcoat, this follows oscar, a former soldier adrift in the quiet after war. burdened by loss and shaken faith, he finds unexpected solace in a sharp-tongued widow with wounds of her own. through rainstorms, shared silences, and slow-blooming trust, they learn that even the most weathered hearts can find home again.

something like love | driver!reader summary: she’s f1’s rising star. fierce, fast, and convinced she’s not made for love. oscar is the sarcastic softie who's been falling for her since day one. when one press conference cracks her walls, he makes it his mission to prove her wrong.

back to friends | childhood friend!reader summary: she'd always find a place in his bed, it was a fact. oscar was too weak of a man to confess, to tell her how much she shredded his heart everytime she left. but there was only so much he could do.

a sunday kind of love | wife!reader synopsis: sundays were race day, but not all of them were. some of them were time for oscar to enjoy time with his little family.

when the city falls | spidey!osc (featuring ls2) summary: three close friends drift apart when one disappears for two years and returns with wealth, ambition, and a dangerous invention. as his creation spirals out of control, the city teeters on the edge of destruction. in the chaos, hidden truths emerge, and one of them may be the only hope left to stop it.

falling into you | gf!reader summary: nothing is better than silent sundays, where all you want to do is cuddle your boyfriend.

SMAU

professor piastri? - teacher!reader summary: oscar has a partner? she's a teacher? how did that even happen

home race - trilangual!reader summary: oscar has a habit of claiming every race of his as his own, now that his girlfriend speaks so many languages and she's teaching him, surely he can add more right?

SERIES

secret sister smau - norris!reader summary: lando never wanted the world to know about his sister, for her safety and also because he knows how much of a menace she is. on her 21st birthday he makes a birthday post for her letting the world know she exists - what he doesn't prepare for is his teammate catching feelings.

part one | part two | part three - completed

✦ chicago | single mum!reader summary: he fell in love with chicago, she told him she was all alone, but she wasn't - that was the problem

part one | part two | part three | part four - completed

skyfall | spy!reader summary: the two of them work for two different associations, they run into eachother more times than they would like to, what happens when tensions start to clash

part one | part two | part three - completed

no time to die | spy!reader - sequel to skyfall

part one | part two | part three - completed

✦ free now | author!reader summary: she was an author with no inspiration and a deadline. he was a formula one driver looking for a break. when those two hearts cross, you'd think it would make a fairytale story

part one | part two - completed

[em1i2a3]

I Do Love You

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob go to the mall to find a gift for Bucky’s birthday party, only to get sidetracked with a different goal by the end of the trip. (This is a continuation of ‘The Air That I Breathe’)

Warnings: None, just pure fluff, and the established relationship between Bob and the reader, but that’s already known lol.

Author’s Note: I really wanted to do a little continuation of this, just a little fluff for a Friday. Just to ease back and relax a bit. I also enjoyed writing the first part so I really wanted to add to it :) (Literally running out of Bob gifs lol, I’m grasping at straws!)

Word Count: 3,802

The mall was unusually quiet for a Saturday.

Not completely empty–just…Hushed. There were still groups of people drifting in and out of shops, with fingers skimming over fabric racks, and occasionally you would hear voices rising near the escalators–but the usual chaos that weekends brought to a standalone mall was missing. No screeching kids tugging at their parents arms, no lines trailing outside of the newest pop up stores, no teenagers crowding the food court in packs. It was just a soft, steady rhythm of footsteps over tile, the low hum of dimmed overhead lights, and the familiar hiss of the air conditions kicking on in long pulses.

It wasn’t what you expected. Youhad braced yourself for the crush of bodies and the wail of pop music blasting from every storefront. Instead, it was all muted colors and diffused light, like someone had dimmed the saturation of the world. The skylights overhead stretched long and pale, casting thin streaks of daylight across polished floors that gleamed from fresh wax. The indoor trees–fake, but convincing if you just glanced at them–were strung with twinkle lights that hadn’t been removed since the holidays. A janitor pushed a cart quietly past the fountain, which was still running strong despite the chipped tile at its base.

You and Bob walked in step with one another, hands clasped in the space between you, fingers laced with the kind of casual intimacy that had become second nature over time. Your free hands were occupied with your respective drinks–yours a black iced Americano in a clear plastic cup that you sipped absently, letting the bitterness bloom on your tongue like an anchor to the cool quiet of the day. Bob’s was a frozen vanilla cappuccino, already half-melted and turning to slush at the bottom. He’d chosen it after much deliberation, mumbling something about wanting to try something “f-fun and different,” and then proceeded to complain that it was “a l-lot sweeter than expected,” though he hadn’t stopped drinking it since.

The two of you rounded the corner past a perfume store, the sharp floral scent bleeding out into the walkway. Bob wrinkled his nose subtly, and you glanced sideways, noticing how his eyes scanned the stores as you passed–not with the sharp focus of a man on a mission, but the distracted softness of someone enjoying the moment too much to rush through it.

You hadn’t forgotten why you were here though because the original plan was still the same: find something for Bucky’s birthday that didn’t suck.

You and Bob had spent the last few nights curled up together on his bed, bathed in the dim glow of your phone screens and the quiet static hum of the compound’s late-night silence, clicking through endless websites. Etsy, Amazon, specialty gift sites, forums you weren’t entirely sure were even safe to be browsing–if it could be searched, you’d searched it. Bob would type every keyword you could think of, while you suggested ideas.

It wasn’t that Bucky was difficult to shop for–he wasn’t. Not in the way that, say, Alexei was, where the safest bet was to just get something oversized and vaguely related to food. Or Yelena, who just flat out told you what she wanted. No, Bucky was simple, but he refused to give any ideas because he didn’t even want a party in the first place.

You wanted something he could actually use. Something he wouldn’t just tuck onto the far right of his bookshelf next to the unopened shaving kit and that random bonsai tree John gave him as a joke. You’d considered knives, obviously, but he already had too many–and frankly, so did everyone else on the team. A leather jacket? Too obvious. A watch? He didn’t wear the one he had. Something from his past? That was even harder. You had an entire tab open dedicated to ‘gifts for men from 40s,’ and most of it felt either too kitschy or like it belonged in a nursing home catalogue–or it gave you an ad for a nursing home even.

Eventually, you had sighed dramatically and turned to Bob, who had a chip between his teeth and a frown carved into his forehead like the pressure of picking the perfect gift might take him out permanently.

“We’re going to the mall,” You surrendered. “It’s the last resort.”

So here you were. On a reconnaissance mission. Tired, slightly over caffeinated, and hoping divine inspiration would strike between the candle shop and whatever kiosk was now selling bedazzled phone grips.

Bob hadn’t complained though. Not once.

In fact, he’d seemed almost grateful for the excuse to get out with you, his hand warm and steady in yours, his thumb brushing lazy lines over your knuckles while you wandered past storefront after storefront.

“Y-You sure he’d want s-something practical?” Bob asked as the two of you paused outside a camping supply store, where a full-sized mannequin in camouflage held a cooler in its hand with a fishing rod hanging behind it.

”I think he would use something practical,” You replied, taking a sip of your drink, “He just wouldn’t admit to liking it, but at least he would be using the thing, and that would be proof he liked it.” Bob hummed thoughtfully, glancing between you and the window.

”So…M-Maybe something like a weighted blanket m-might do? He’s g-got sleep issues.” You tilted your head, eyeing the mannequin like it might come alive and offer you unsolicited advice. Bob was still looking at you, one eyebrow raised with that quiet kind of curiosity he reserved just for you.

“It sounds like a good idea,” You admitted, “But summer’s coming up…” You took another sip of your Americano, letting the ice clink against your teeth. “He’s gonna be sweating bullets if we get him something with that much insulation. And we both know he already sleeps like he’s one nightmare away from flipping the mattress.” Bob nodded slowly, brows furrowed in thought as he sipped the last of his cappuccino slush through the straw. The sound was loud and final.

“I’m p-pretty sure they have cooling o-ones. We c-can go look in o-one of those ‘A-As Seen On TV’ stores…I-If they have one in there.” You sighed and gave Bob’s hand a light squeeze.

“You know I can’t say no to you…” You muttered, though the corners of your lips twitched into a fond smile. “Alright. We’ll check. Worst case scenario, we get a knockoff Snuggie and a weird back massager we can pretend is from Alexei.” Bob chuckled, pleased with himself, and then you perked up slightly with a new idea.

“Wait–what if we did, like, a gift basket? Not one big thing, but a bunch of little things. Stuff that’s useful or fun. Like a tactical care package.” Bob’s eyes lit up.

“Th-That actually…K-Kinda sounds perfect.” You nodded, a little more energized now that you actually had somewhat of a plan coming together.

” A cooling blanket, maybe a multi-tool thing, some weird little gadgets that’ll make him roll his eyes but secretly love.” You gestured down the corridor. “C’mon. Let’s hit that ‘As Seen On TV’ store. Bet we’ll find all the gifts in there.” As you turned down the next wing of the mall, you passed a jewelry store.

You didn’t mean to glance.

But you did.

Just a flicker of a look—enough to catch the glint of warm light over polished silver, gold, and rose gold. A neat little display of rings rested front and center. Not gaudy or flashy. Just elegant. Meaningful.

Your eyes lingered on one in particular. Something small. Subtle. A band that glinted in the light with a barely-there pattern etched around its edges.

And that’s when Bob noticed.

You didn’t see him looking at you, but he did. Just for a second. His gaze shifted from the display window to your face, catching the soft change in your expression. That quiet, contemplative breath you took. The way your fingers curled gently around his. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

He just kept walking.

But his hand didn’t let go of yours.

The “As Seen On TV” store was tucked into a corner of the second level, sandwiched between a sunglasses outlet and a place that exclusively sold oversized hoodies with cartoon frogs on them. Inside, it was a chaotic collage of flashing signs, colorful boxes, and product demos looping on grainy monitors.

Within ten minutes you and Bob had collected a whole array of things in your arms. A compact ‘6-in-1 tactical pen’ that could break glass, shine a light, open bottles, and also had a hidden knife on the end of it. A cooling weighted blanket made with ‘NASA-Developed temperature control gel,’ Bob mentioned he was probably going to look into it when they got back to the compound, but you both knew Bucky would like it. You added a hand-held muscle massager because he complained a lot about shoulder pain, and you also got him a little fidget ring, as you noticed he would wring his hands a lot when he was focused.

By the time you got to the register, you were confident you had the makings of a half-sincere, half-affectionate care package that Bucky would grumble about, but use .

Afterward, you wandered to the food court, the late afternoon light softening as it filtered in through the high windows above. It was quieter than you expected. Most of the tables were empty. The two of you grabbed hot pretzels and a bottle of water to split, settling into one of the corner booths overlooking the fountain below. Bob tore a piece of pretzel and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“S-So we have t-to put in the cake order still, right?” You raised your eyebrows.

”Shit. Right. We need to do that.” He nodded, licking salt off his thumb.

”Yelena m-mentioned it needed to be a s-sheet cake…D-Do you know how many people a-are showing up to this thing?” You bit the inside of your lip as you tore off a piece of the steaming pretzel, popping it into your mouth quickly and chewing.

“They say it’s going to be around fifty people, apparently,” You said around a mouthful of buttery salt. “I don’t know where they got the idea Bucky would want a fifty-person birthday party, but…You know Yelena and Ava.”Bob winced in agreement.

“O-Oh, I know them…”He said, eyes wide in mock horror. “I c-can tell they want this to be a b-big thing for him…” You snorted.

”If they ever find out when my birthday is, please, for the love of God, attempt to prevent them from doing this to me.” Bob smirked and reached across the table, taking your free hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like a slow, secret comfort.

“I-I’ll do my very best…” He said softly, “But…N-No promises.” You groaned, head thunking lightly back against the seat.

“Who am I kidding…You’ll fold like a lawn chair because of Yelena.”

“She has a convincing tone,” Bob admitted sheepishly, then took another bite of his pretzel and chewed in thoughtful silence.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The hum of the fountain nearby filled the quiet space between you, soft and steady. You could see a small kid tossing coins into it from afar, his mother half-distracted by her phone. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon sugar and frying oil, the kind of comforting scent that belonged to places like this–transient and nostalgic.

Then Bob shifted slightly in his seat, and the movement pulled your attention back to him.

“B-Before we go to the bakery to p-put in that cake order…” He began, carefully, like he was choosing each word with precision. “W-We need to make one more stop.” You tilted your head and raised your brows.

“Yeah?” Where?” Bob’s smile twitched slightly at your question, shy but steady.

“J-Just finish your pretzel,” He said, nudging your foot under the table. “I-I’ll take you there.” You arched a brow, tearing another piece of buttery dough and popping it into your mouth.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to surprise me,” You replied with a teasing glance, chewing slowly, “You always get too nervous and end up telling me halfway through your plan.” Bob snorted through a crooked smile, eyes dipping to his lap for a second before glancing back at you.

“I-I can be sneaky s-sometimes.” He commented, with the smallest bit of pride in his voice. You both laughed–soft and easy. That kind of shared laughter that came with knowing each other’s rhythms, with time and trust and more late nights than you could count. It filled the little corner of your booth like a secret, golden thing. For a moment, the stress of the party, the people waiting for you back at the compound–none of it mattered. There was only the sound of the fountain, the warmth of your joined hands, and the last few salty, satisfying bites of a hot pretzel.

When you were both finished and had tossed the wrappers, Bob stood, pulling you gently to your feet. His hand stayed in yours, thumb brushing against your skin like a grounding line. Then he stopped a few steps from the table and turned to you.

“O-Okay…” He said, a little breathlessly now. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck. “C-Close your eyes?”

You tilted your head, curious now. “Really?”

“R-Really.”

You studied his expression for a beat–soft, a little nervous, but sure–and then gave in with a tiny smile, dropping your gaze and shutting your eyes.

“Alright. I’m trusting you not to walk me into a mall fountain.”

“N-No promises,” He muttered under his breath, just loud enough to make you snort. The next few steps were slow, careful. His hand was firm in yours, guiding you through the open concourse. The hum of the escalator faded behind you, and you could feel the shift in light–how it brightened a little with each step as you neared one of the storefronts with big windows and carefully positioned spotlights.

You felt him pause.

Then, just barely above a whisper: “O-Okay…Open your eyes.”

You blinked.

And found yourself standing in front of the jewelry store. The same one you passed on the way to the ‘As Seen on TV’ store. The one with soft gold lighting and velvet-ringed displays. The one you’d dared to glance at for too long. The one he hadn’t said a word about–until now. You looked at the store, and then at him. Your brows lifted slowly, your mouth parting just slightly.

“Bob…” His cheeks were flushed, but his eyes–those impossibly open, sea-glass blue eyes–were steady. There was a tremble in his hand, but not in his voice when he finally spoke.

“S-Since we have time…” He said, quiet but certain, “I thought maybe we c-could…Ring shop.” You didn’t answer right away, because the lump forming in your throat made it hard to breathe. But then your hand squeezed his, your smile softened, and you nodded once.

“Yeah,” You whispered, heart thudding somewhere beneath your ribs. “Let’s do it.”

And just like that, he stepped forward with you, into the golden light.

The store smelled faintly of polished wood and something floral–freesia or lavender, maybe–soft and expensive in that way that made everything inside feel just a little quieter. The lights were warm but diffused, and the cases gleamed beneath them like little glass temples, each one home to tiny artifacts of love and promises.

You stood beside Bob just inside the entrance, hands still laced, the silence between you held like a thread made of gold.

It was the kind of store you’d walked past a thousand times but never stepped into. You suddenly became very aware of your shoes, your breathing, the fact that you were holding half of Bucky Barnes’ birthday present in a tote bag. Bob gave your hand a little squeeze, and you looked up at him,

”You o-okay?” He asked, voice low. You smiled, a little stunned.

“Yeah. Just… I’ve never done this before.”

He leaned a little closer. “M-Me neither.”

That made you both laugh–nervous, but soft. It broke the tension just enough that you both stepped forward.

The glass counters curved around the perimeter of the room, broken up by matte black display stands that held small, velvet-lined trays of rings. Some with diamonds. Some without. Some that looked like they belonged in a royal family’s vault, others so simple they almost looked like silver wire bent into a promise.

Before either of you could make a move toward any of them, a store associate appeared–young, sharply dressed, and carrying an air of practiced calm. She smiled gently, eyes warm as they glanced between you and Bob.

“Welcome in,” She chirped. “Looking for anything specific today?” You hesitated. Bob, however, cleared his throat and took a small step forward.

“W-We’re just…Uh, l-looking,” He replied, shifting his weight slightly. “I-I mean–we’re here for rings of course. B-But not like–well…We’re g-getting ideas.” The associate didn’t blink.

“That’s a perfect place to start,” she said. “Anniversary? Promise? Something custom?” You opened your mouth, but Bob beat you to it.

“I-I want something that…That’ll represent our relationship,” he said, his voice gaining confidence the longer he spoke. “We m-may not have time to get married for a while–but…” He trailed off, causing the associate to smile and gently cut in.

”You wanted to make it official.”

“Y-Yeah. Exactly.” Something fluttered in your chest at how easily she understood. And how quickly Bob had agreed. She gestured to one of the nearby trays.

“Alright then,” She started, “Let’s look at a few options. Something durable but meaningful, right? Not too flashy?” You nodded.

”Sounds about right.”

“Great. We’ll focus on comfort-fit bands–platinum, white gold, titanium, something simple that could last through…Well, anything.” Her gaze flicked knowingly to Bob’s frame. “You two strike me as people who live a little out of the ordinary.” Bob laughed, soft and sheepish.

“Y-You don’t know the half of it.” She began laying out a few bands in a neat row–some with subtle etchings, others smooth and classic. She slid one tray forward toward you, and another toward Bob, encouraging you both to take your time. You picked one up between your fingers, the metal cool and slightly heavier than expected.

“Is this weird?” You asked quietly, glancing up at Bob. “To do this now?” He looked at you like you’d asked if the sky was real.

“No,” He said. “I-It’s…It’s us. That means it’s not weird.”

You smiled, ducking your head to hide how hard your heart was thudding. Bob’s fingers hovered over the tray for a long moment, eyes scanning the rings with a kind of reverent attention–like they were artifacts he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch.

Then, he reached out and gently picked one up.

It was a rose gold band–slender, but not dainty–with a single oval-cut tourmaline set into the center. The stone caught the warm lights above like it had been waiting for them all along. It shimmered with shades that shifted each time it tilted: black at its base, deep amber at the edges, and flecks of deep sapphire swimming just beneath the surface. Like a nebula sealed in glass. Like light and shadow arguing quietly.

Bob held it between his thumb and forefinger for a long moment, studying the way it shimmered. Then he turned to you and, with a shy tilt of his head, extended it in your direction.

“C-Can you try it on?” he asked, voice just above a whisper. “J-Just so I can see what it…what it’d look like on you.”

Your heart skipped.

He didn’t say it was an engagement ring, but he didn’t need to. You could feel the weight of what he meant in his gaze–how tender it was, how full of things that hadn’t been spoken yet. You smirked a little, but your fingers were steady as you took the ring and slipped it onto your finger.

It slid over your knuckle with a soft resistance and settled at the base like it belonged there. The stone shimmered in the warm light, casting rose gold tones into your skin and splintering them into color. Bob stared for a second longer than he probably meant to. Then his lips curved into a soft smile.

“It s-suits you,” He said, breathless. “The colours do t-too.”

You tilted your hand, watching the way the light shifted through the gem–deep shadows at the base, that strange gold glow, and a flicker of blue right at the center. Your head tilted, a thoughtful smile curling at your lips.

“It’s the colours of you, Sentry and the Void.” You pointed out softly, Bob’s eyebrows drew together slightly.

”I-I’m not blue though…” He replied, almost in a mock defence. You turned to him, with your brows raised. A smirk appears on your lips.

”Yeah, but your eyes are, you little Bozo.” That got him. He huffed a short laugh, eyes crinkling as he tried to suppress a bigger grin, but failed.

“O-Okay. That’s fair.” You both laughed then–soft and unguarded, laughter that cracked open the nervous stillness of the moment like sun breaking through clouds. The associate across the counter smiled faintly but stepped back a respectful distance, letting you both have it.

The moment.

The breath between laughter and everything it meant.

Bob glanced down again at the ring, then up at you, the glow of the store lights catching in his eyes. Something in him shifted–a soft settling, like he’d made some quiet decision in his heart even if he hadn’t said the words aloud yet.

“D-Don’t get too attached,” He teased gently, tapping the edge of the ring with a fingertip.”M-Might have to wait for the day where…You know…I m-make it official.” You blinked once. Then smiled, slow and wide, heart full and fluttering.

“Guess I’ll just have to wait and see then,” You murmured, voice low and full of something golden, as you continued to stare at the ring in absolute awe.

[nehi-soda]

Bound in Bloom -

Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: Joel Miller never thought he’d find peace, not after all the years of running, fighting, and surviving. But here you were, standing in the kitchen of your farmhouse, your belly swollen beneath his favorite sundress on his birthday.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, farmhouse!joel, dad-to-be!joel, Jackson!joel, stablished relationship, pregnancy, talk about your body changing, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), mention of unprotected P in V sex, creampie, smut, fluff, soft!joel, pet names (baby, darlin'). No use of Y/N. Mood board is for aesthetics only; the reader's features aren't specified. Basically just sickly sweet love!

A/N: I just know this would be Joel's DREAM, so I wanted to gift it to him for his birthday (and you cannot tell me this man does not have a breeding kink). Yes, Joel, you can keep me barefoot and pregnant, sweetie.

for @justagalwhowrites' joel miller birthday celebration (I chose Jackson Joel and breeding kink).

The soft morning light filtered through the kitchen window, painting everything with a golden haze. The sweet smell of cake filled the room as you stood at the sink, hands submerged in warm, soapy water, humming to yourself as you scrubbed the last of the cake mix off the various utensils. The worn farmhouse floor creaked beneath your bare feet, familiar and comforting. The air outside was still and quiet, except for the occasional rustle of the wind through the tall grass surrounding the house.

It was peaceful out here. Away from the chaos, from Jackson, from all of it. Joel had finally given in to the idea of a quieter life. After years of running, fighting, and surviving, he got what he'd wanted— a simple life. And you, you were part of that dream, tethered to him in ways you’d never been able to escape since the moment you met him.

Your little floral sundress clung to you a little differently now, tighter around your hips and shorter than it used to be, the fabric barely grazing mid-thigh. The hem lifted just slightly as you shifted, the soft cotton pulling tighter across the swell of your belly. You absently brushed your hand over the curve and smiled softly.

You didn’t expect to outgrow your clothes so quickly, but the last few weeks had caught you off guard. It seemed like overnight; your belly had swelled, pushing at the seams of your favourite dresses and making your jeans a distant memory. Lately, you’d been relying more and more on Joel’s t-shirts and flannels, the worn fabric soft against your skin, offering that extra room you needed. You liked the way they smelled like him—like woodsmoke and fresh pine, wrapping you in his presence even when he wasn’t there.

You could see it in his eyes every time he caught you wearing something of his —how much it did something to him. How the sight of you in his clothes, with your belly rounding beneath the fabric, lit something deep inside him.

But you didn’t try to get pregnant.

There wasn’t some grand plan, no careful conversations or conscious decisions about what you were doing. It had been the way he groaned when you begged for it, the way his breath hitched and his grip on your hips tightened like he was holding on for dear life. You loved the power it gave you, how those simple words could unravel him completely.

“Put a baby in me, Joel.”

You’d whisper it in his ear in those moments when he was deep inside you, moving slow and steady, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, sweat beading on his brow as he tried to keep control. Sometimes, you’d say it soft, barely a murmur against his lips. Other times, it came out all breathless, a plea mixed in with the sound of your moans. Sometimes it would be a loud scream.

And every time, it hit him like a goddamn freight train.

You felt it in the way his body would react—his hips driving harder, deeper, as if your words unlocked something in him, something primal. He couldn’t hold back when you said it. The way his voice would break, that low, guttural groan spilling from his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, his grip almost bruising, made you want him more.

“Please cum inside me, please, please, please…”

“You want that, huh? Want me to fill you up?”

And you did. You wanted it so badly in those moments; the idea of being swollen with his child, of him claiming you in the most permanent way, made your entire body burn with need.

His movements would become more purposeful as if he was consumed by the thought of it too.

But you weren’t trying to get pregnant. Not really. 

You just loved the way it made him lose himself, how he’d bury himself so deep inside you, hips flush against yours, as he came with a broken moan, spilling himself into you over and over again, filling you up as you’d asked.

You could hear him behind you, the sound of his heavy footsteps announcing his presence before his hands did. You smiled to yourself, letting the warmth of the sun match the warmth that spread through your chest. There was something so comforting about his presence—solid, dependable.

“Morning, darlin’,” his voice was rough from sleep, but there was something softer there, too, the edge he used to carry dulled by the peacefulness of this new life. His hands found your hips easily, warm and firm as they slid over the fabric of your dress, fingers grazing the swell of your belly like it was second nature to him now.

“Morning,” you murmured, smiling as he leaned in closer, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

“How’s my girls?” he asked, his hand resting protectively on your stomach, thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you.

From the moment you’d found out, Joel had been convinced you were carrying a girl. His baby girl.

“They’re just fine,” you teased, leaning back into him, letting the warmth of his body sink into yours. “She’s still baking.”

Joel chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter.

"You look real pretty today," he murmured, voice gravelly and thick with that Southern drawl. You felt his hands slide across you in a slow, deliberate grip, the curve of your waist sliding down to rest on your widening hips. His breath was warm against your neck, the thick scrape of his beard sending shivers down your spine as he planted soft kisses along the sensitive skin there. His touch was slow, tender, not rushed—like he had all the time in the world; like you were something precious.

“Gonna need to get you some new dresses soon,” he murmured. “Can’t have you walkin’ around in this one when it’s barely coverin’ ya.”

"You used to love this dress. Couldn't take your hands off me when I wore it, remember? Are you saying I'm getting too big for it?" you laughed softly.

“Nah,” he whispered, “Just sayin’ you’re growin’ right where I want you to.”

"Well, I wore it especially for you. Happy birthday, old man." you teased, raising your hand to dab bubbles on his cheek before giving him a soft kiss. You bit your lip and focused back on the dishes, the feel of the soap between your fingers suddenly became more acute. But it was hard to stay focused when his hands were moving like that. His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, teasing, lifting it ever so slightly.

"Joel, I’m almost done—" you giggled, but the words caught in your throat the moment his lips pressed against that sweet spot just below your ear. His hand slid higher, bunching the fabric, exposing more of your thighs, the cool air brushing against them.

“Good, 'cause I want my birthday present now." he growled softly between kisses, his voice low and rumbling. His fingers danced over your thighs as his mouth continued its slow, deliberate assault on your neck.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, your body already responding to him, the ache growing with every passing second. He knew it too—the way you shifted slightly, pressing back against him, craving more even as you tried to stay focused.

“So damn beautiful.” he whispered, his voice full of affection, his lips brushing your ear. A hand slid higher again, teasing along the edge of your underwear now, and you could feel your breath hitch, your whole body tensing.

You tried to protest again, half-hearted, knowing it was useless. His fingers slid beneath the thin fabric of your panties, brushing over your folds, finding you already wet with need making him groan softly.

“Always fuckin’ ready for it, huh?” he muttered, his fingers moving with a slow, torturous rhythm that had your knees trembling. “You were made for me, made for this, to carry my babies.…”.

All you could do was hum in agreement and let out a breathless moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as the pads of his rough fingers traced hypnotic circles against your swollen clit, the sensation overwhelming. His breath was hot against your ear, his free hand cradling your belly with a kind of possessive tenderness.

“God, you drive me crazy.”

He kissed your neck again, harder this time, nipping and sucking, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. You could feel him growing harder against your back, the heat of his body pressed flush against yours.

“You want me to stop?” he whispered, his fingers still moving in slow, agonising strokes. He knew the answer before you even said it, his voice thick with a kind of smug satisfaction that only made the heat between your legs burn hotter, your pussy fluttering around nothing.

“No…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, dizzy with need.

“Didn’t think so,” his voice deep, and then his fingers dipped lower, slipping two fingers inside you, pulling a soft moan from your lips, filling that ache you always seemed to have inside you that only Joel could satisfy.

"That’s it, mama, let me take care of you.”

You could hear the soft squelch of your pussy, accepting his fingers over and over as Joel gently swayed you in his arms.

Just when you were getting lost in his heavenly touch, he pulled them out making you whimper, your pussy clenching at the sudden loss. A firm hand between your shoulder blades pushed you forward, your pulse thrumming with anticipation.

Your palms braced against the cool surface of the sink as your body instinctively arched for him.

You felt him sink to his knees behind you, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against the wood floor.

You could barely catch your breath, the feel of his hand sliding down the curve of your ass, his fingers gripping the fabric of your soaked panties, tugging them down your thighs. You gasped as the cool air hit you, your legs spreading automatically.

He pressed his lips to the back of your legs, kissing his way up slowly, reverently, as if he were worshipping you.

“Goddamn, baby,” he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

His mouth was on you before you could even register the heat of his breath, his tongue slipping between your folds, lapping up the wetness. You let out a moan, loud and breathless, your body jolting forward as the first wave of pleasure hit you like a lightning bolt. His hands were firm but loving on your hips, pulling you back just enough so he could fit his mouth where you needed him most.

He groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your entire being as his tongue slid over your sex, slow and demanding. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t devouring you like a man starved. No, you were a luxury that had to be savoured.

His tongue dragged a long deliberate stroke from your clit to your entrance. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you steady as he began to devour you, his mouth relentless, his tongue dipping and circling with a precision that left you shaking.

“Joel.”

His name was all you could manage, and it came out in a desperate moan.

He fucking loved how his name sounded when you moaned it.

He pressed a kiss to your swollen clit, soft and tender, before sucking it gently between his lips.

Your head dropped forward, your body trembling as the pleasure built inside you, hotter and hotter, until it felt like you were going to explode.

“Oh, fuck…” you whimpered, your fingers digging into the edge of the sink till your knuckles turned white, the pressure inside you building faster than you could handle.

Each lick was thorough and purposeful, his tongue exploring every inch of you like he was committing it to memory.

“God… Joel… feels so fucking good.” You could barely speak, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as his mouth worked you over.

You rocked your hips back, settling his tounge further into your cunt.

“Mhm, mhm,” Joel hummed against you, his hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling you down harder onto his face, his words vibrating against the overstimulated bundle of nerves. “Atta girl, just like that, let go, baby.”

You could feel the orgasm building inside you, the heat coiling tighter and tighter. You were right there, teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he pushed you closer and closer.

“Joel… I’m gonna—" you tried to warn him, but it was too late. The orgasm ripped through you like wildfire, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out and came hard on his tongue. But he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, drinking every drop of your sweet ambrosia release until you were spent, legs giving way, chest heaving.

When he finally pulled away, you were a quivering mess and could barely stand. You felt your juices dripping down the inside of your thighs and shivered.  

Joel wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he rose behind you with a groan. “Jesus, I'm gettin’ too old for this.” His hands slid up your thighs pulling your panties back up with him. His large arms settled around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

"Don’t be too worn out," you teased, your voice soft, still giddy with the afterglow. “Ellie and everyone are coming over, remember? And we’re having cake.”

“Baby, you know…I'm feelin’ a little full, actually.” He joked.

Your jaw dropped incredulously at his vulgarity before he planted kisses all over your flushed face.

Each year, when he blew out the candles on a small cake you’d make from whatever ingredients were available, he’d always wish for the same damn thing: To keep loving you.

 And if he were extra good, maybe he’d be given another shot at fatherhood. 

Joel knew that this year, even if he never let himself fully believe he deserved it, you had already given him his greatest wish.

divider credit to @mikeykuns

[thinkinonsense]

VELVET ELVIS ❤︎

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fluff! domesticity! soft!logan pregnancy

author's note: this was inspired by the kacey musgraves song! just wanted to write some fluff :)

masterlist

divider credit: @/roseraris

within these cabin walls, time stood still. logan liked his life and the time machine he's built himself. you and him live in a 60's dream home.

during the weekdays, logan went to work at the lumberyard while you stayed at home and worked on your paintings. when the two of you moved in together years ago, logan got you to agree to quit your job and prioritize your talents since he could do triple the amount of work for a normal man, money would never be an issue.

on saturday's, the two of you would go into town and you would bring your art pieces to a shop downtown for them to sell. whatever money you made, you put back towards the supplies you needed because logan covered everything else.

"well, don't 'cha look like a dream" logan compliments as he watches you get ready in the mirror.

"thank you, sugar." you smile as he leans down to kiss your temple then down to your cheek.

"prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen." he mutters against your skin. "is this new?"

both your eyes fall to the satin powder blue slip dress that adorned your frame. he loved how it looked with your pretty white mary jane boots and the small bump blooming underneath the soft material of your dress.

"yeah, picked it up earlier this week." you reply, removing the curlers in your hair and teasing the hair pieces up high.

"love it." logan says, nibbling at your earlobe.

"logan..." you giggle, lightly shoving him away. "go get dressed so we can leave."

"yes, ma'am."

reluctantly, logan gets up and grabs the nice outfit you put together for him earlier. a fresh pair of denim jeans, a white shirt, and his brown leather jacket. as an anniversary present one year, you got logan a silver star-shaped belt buckle that matched the necklace he got for your birthday when you two first met. in the mirror, you watched him put it on.

"whatcha thinkin' about over there, sweetheart?" he smirks, looking up to find your eyes.

"dippin' you in honey."

"dirty. i like it."

"not like that, perv." you giggle. "just wanna be stuck to you forever."

"that's sweet," he says, walking over, bending down, and gently grabbing your chin to kiss you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

once the two of you make it inside the tiny shop, logan brings in your painting while you greet the older ladies who own the building. all of them fawn over logan and your round tummy; telling you how lucky you are. something you never let yourself forget.

"you'll never believe what we picked up at the gala last weekend." one of the grey-haired women tells you.

"what did you two find?" you asked, always curious to their treasures.

"the hell kinda painting is this?" logan asks, looking sideways at one of the paintings on the wall.

the sight makes you laugh. no matter how long you two have been together, logan still struggles to see some of the beauty that you do in certain art pieces.

"i think the handsome lumberjack found it." the other lady winked as they guide you over to where logan stood. hanging upon the wall sat a velvet elvis painting.

"oh my!" you gasp.

ever since you were a little girl, you adored the painting that some would call 'tacky'.

"you like that, sweets?" he questions but you ignore it, stepping closer, running a finger along the golden frame.

"my grandma used to have one in her living room, it was her most prized possession –well, next to my grandpa."

behind you, logan could see the couple smiling to each other. too busy amazed by the painting to notice anything else around you.

“what a lucky find!” you marvel, turning around to face them.

“which is why we want you to have it.” one of them says while the other takes it down from the wall.

in shock, you shake your head insisting that you couldn’t allow them to give it away. they insist on you two taking it home, telling you to hang it somewhere nice. logan wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the painting in the home but he knew you adored it so he would never say a word out loud.

on the way home that night, you raved about the piece. logan loved hearing you talk about the things you were passionate about. he could listen to you explain color theory for hours. his own personal, prettier version of bob ross. when he brought in the painting, you told him exactly where you wanted to hang it in the living room.

“right there, baby.” you instruct him. “be careful.”

the man couldn’t be hurt if he tried but he found your warning cute. once it was hung up, you both step back to admire it. the art work did at least match the aesthetic of the house, logan could admit.

“i mean, its no mona lisa but i don’t mind it.” logan says, pulling you in to kiss your forehead.

“you know, i don’t really care for the mona lisa.” you admit with a shrug.

“really?”

“mhm, don’t like that everyone fawns over it. i want character, creativity, and something unique."

"hm.." he hums, swaying you gently.

"this painting reminds me of you." your voice meek and muffled against his shirt.

"is that so?" he asks, looking down at you.

you nod. "i want something no one else has and something no one else will ever understand the way that i do. you're my favorite work of art, lo."

"i'm only a work of art because you carved and molded me with your beautiful mind." he says, trying to allow a tear to fall down his face.

logan couldn't believe the life he'd been gifted after all the shit he's dealt with in his lifetime. he didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve you. your kindness, your warmth, your talent, your body that carries the only other human he will ever love as much as you. he would never be able to repay you for this little life and slice of peace that you've gifted him.

[szarina]

Idea: You give birth to your children and play the perfect wife until they’re old enough to go to school. When Zayne picked up the kids they couldn’t find you so Zayne added you were in your bedroom, but when he got there he found your dead body instead

Years later your children have a faint memory of you, and every time they asked their dad if he’ll Rr-marry he says no. One day as they went through their old things they found a journal or notes signed by you, in it were your true feelings of the marriage, how it came to be and how you were sorry for being a coward but you couldn’t take it anymore

❆ ₊⋆ content warnings. heavy angst + major character death + suicide + implied noncon + implied forced pregnancy.

❆ ₊⋆ notes. i was hoping for dark fluff with this series but you all keep sending me angsts. i ain't complaining though.

At the tender age of seven, Yue and Aurora lost their mother.

Too young to lose a mother and too old to understand what really happened. They only remember the blue and red of siren lights in the ambulance dancing at their front gate. Their father taking them to their own room — looking at them with eyes like he just failed them. He couldn't keep the mother of his children alive.

The funeral was silent as it can be. People passed out their condolences and grievances. Pity for the two children you left so early. Aurora was cradled at his father's arm. Aurora who looks exactly like you. Her mother's sorrow and joy. Yue stands besides his father. Holding his tiny little hand. They always say he looks like his father too.

Two halves of a soul carved from the flesh and blood of their parents.

You lost your life from a sudden illness. That's what they say but only the household of the Li residence knew what really happened. Yue has always been smarter and Aurora knew it too but they kept it silent cause no one bears the guilt of losing their mother more than their father.

He drove you to your own death.

You would rather take your life than spend another day with him despite the two reasons why you stayed alive for that short amount of time.

Seven. Seven is the perfect age for a child to lose their mother. They will remember you but as soon as you they grow older they will forget you. Too young for their little minds to grasp what made you die and every adults like your husband would say, “Mommy's in a better place.” and “She's watching over you.”

White lies. It didn't hurt anyone and keep the truth more bearable. You made sure of that. No one is to blame for your death but your own and even you planned it for a long time. A premeditated suicide. You made sure that at the last moments, your last days. Your children is loved even it breaks your heart you have to leave them.

You kissed them more. Hugged them tighter. Said I love you more than a thousand times in every chance you can get. Watch them sleep, admiring their innocent faces that even they were born out of unwanted circumstances — you loved them so much.

Choosing a date that won't make an impact in the day of your death. It wasn't also far from their birthdays. A normal day to passed away. It won't make a scratch or a dent. You made sure you'll die in a room where no one of the twins will look for you and you made it clean like you simply passed away. You wouldn't taint a day because of your selfishness and cowardice.

Your love wasn't enough for your children to keep you alive while you resented the man you used to love.

The years came in a blur. Your twins weren't children anymore. Teenagers they are but still grieving for their dead mother who haunts them with her presence in the halls and walls of the house. The garden whereas you tended is still alive. The flowers came into bloom again after a long bitter winter.

Their father was still their father without you. He knows he can't replace you and remained single and a widowed father in his days even the ghost of a former flame lingered. Waiting and wanting. But he extinguished that flame a long time ago.

They were whispers, masked as concern that he should take a wife again. If it wasn't for him, for the children. The twins would want a mother but he refused. He won't stain your memory and there will no be another woman for him. A wife. The mother to his children. He raised them as a single father.

Women swooned cause there's no more rather appealing than a handsome doctor who's singlehandedly raising his children after the death of their mother. Many wanted to replace you but they can't. The twins don't want it too, for they cry for their deceased mother in their sleep. Where your lullabies lingered in their dreams. Touch that still present. The kisses that they will always remember. You think they forgot but it stayed.

Seven years had passed and Yue comes home after finishing his applications for the university with Aurora tailing behind him. Aurora's older than him for a mere minutes but his sister possess the curiousity and wonder that even she's still sophomore on high school she couldn't care that her younger twin is already starting medical school at the age of fourteen. Aurora was still exploring what she wanted for herself.

Just like his dad, Yue cannot count how many times people have told him that. It was written on the stars they say. The second he came in the world looking like his father. Mannerisms and appearances alike. He wished he got your eyes. His mother's eyes but her older sister got the best of your features.

The house was silent. Zayne, their father was still at the hospital. Another overtime. They were used to it. Since you died, their father buried himself more in surgeries but not enough he's going to neglect his two children with you. They still deserved a father.

He was enough and that's fine. He didn't need more of him, Yue needed you more and Aurora too.

They visited their old room. The nursery untouched. The two cradle was still there with a addition of a new one. They were expecting a sibling too but it died with you too. A younger sister or a brother they will have if it wasn't for you leaving the world too soon. Leaving them together with their father that until this day still mourn for you.

Aurora was pulling the drawers one by one. Wanting to reminisce or a piece of their mother. Yue can see it that Aurora was the one who was the most shaken up when you died. When she understands that her mommy won't be coming back. Yue felt it too for he was alive with your touch. He lost a mother too.

His sister was rummaging their old stuff until she hit something hard beneath their baby clothes. A hidden compartment. Pulling the small handle, it revealed journals belonging to their late mother.

“Look, Yue. Mommy's journals.” His twin reaches for the journals olden with age but still intact. She gave him the other journal. Looking from the texture and the smell, it was a decade older, maybe before they were born.

Aurora got your much older journals. Starting when you were a teenager. A photograph was hidden in the pages. It was them from a stranger's first glance but it was not. It was you and their father. It was like looking at yourself but you know it's not you.

Yue caressed the leather cover of your journal. It was engraved with flowers and puppies. Your name written in cursive and Yue felt your touch at the cover, it feels like you were in the room again, hugging him. He missed you very much but it doesn't prepare for the secrets the pages are about to reveal.

The earliest entry were about your recovery from an accident that you miraculously survived. It contained how your emotionally distant fiancé, their father started to be more closer to you. Constantly hovering but you paid it no mind. He was a doctor and was doing his job.

As Yue flipped the pages, the pages contained the horror of being not able to breath. “I was going to leave him.” Then the details of not should be named and the inappropriateness that a fourteen year old should not see reveals in the ink of your words.

“I'm pregnant. With twins. I should hate it but they were living inside me. I cannot hate these two innocent souls that were born out of love from what their father understands. I'm afraid. What if I won't be a good mom? Zayne says he's going to be with me every step of my pregnancy but I'm terrified.”

His sister and him weren't born out of love. They were a result of a night where their mother was terrified and begging. They couldn't tell. Know it because you loved them very much. You didn't hold hatred in your eyes or resentment for him and his sister. You loved them very much the same you would have loved them if you wanted them.

Another page was flipped and Yue could tell you were crying while you wrote this. There are splotches of your tears staining the pages.

“I'm a mother now. I got two little angels. I named my eldest twin Aurora like the northern lights in The Arctic were Zayne once took me while I was recovering. Seeing the lights there made me think that Aurora deserves her name.”

Yue smiles at your handwriting. The softness in his face were visible but the truth of the reason they were here in the first place breaks his heart.

“I named my youngest, Yue. It means the moon. It was storming outside and after my little Yue was born, the moon was shining brightly. Yue who gave me the scare of my life. Yue didn't cry until he was in my arms like he was waiting for my permission to live. I cried that night, why would my baby want for my permission to live when I was waiting for him and his sister for me to love them both.”

He hears his older sister sniffling besides him. Your other journal was abandoned and he didn't realize she was beside him also reading the entries of their birth.

The final pages reveals the truth and they understand it now. You didn't die of illness. Their father made you kill yourself. There's the regrets and what ifs but you still took your own life.

“I'm a coward and a selfish mother. Who is in there right mind to leave their own children but it's not me. I'm too tired. I cannot live anymore. I tried to. Aurora and Yue was my reason to live but it's not enough. They're going to hate me and resent me for leaving them but I think it's better. I cannot breath and it's better for me to die early. They will understand and they will forget me.”

“I didn't regret killing myself. I have hugged and kissed Yue and Aurora many times more than I can count. I hope it's enough to last a lifetime. I only wished for them to be the best , no matter what path they'll take. I hope they won't be like me too.”

“Aurora, Yue. Mommy's sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.......”

The journal ended there. They look at the date. It was the day you died. The day where their father looked at them like the world ended. The world he created forced upon you, destroyed.

Yue closes the journal. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The same hazel green eyes, the dark hair and he was the younger version of his father. Yue thinks of you, his mother. You could have hated him but you didn't. Your heart was bigger and understanding. Forgiving too but you don't have the capacity to forgive yourself and you took your life as a punishment.

Aurora leans on his shoulder, silently crying. Clutching a photograph of you. Seven years. Seven years you waited. Yue felt numb. He doesn't know what to feel for his father for what he did to you.

He tucks the journal on his side. His only piece of you. Painful the pages are and he feels the anguish on them but there was still love on them.

His sister had fallen into exhaustion. He let her sleep before going outside, he sees his father.

“You didn't deserve her.”

Zayne looks at him. His face remains impassive as his old man.

“I know. You will understand it someday, Yue.”

They didn't need to speak another word to each other. Yue couldn't hate him more for he was starting to be like him too.