#and you’re buzzing around the room like a toddler

[itspileofgoodthings]

you ever struggle with someone’s personality until you realize which Austen heroine they are and then it all makes sense

[ffsg0jo]

same universe as this post. you don't have to read it beforehand, but it helps 🤭

even when yuuji's much older and has his own room, he's still woken up by sukuna's old man noises™ in the bathroom at 7am.

the poor, almost adult just wants to sleep in for a little longer and rest his weary bones, but sukuna's snorting and coughing and hacking his life out in the bathroom down the hall.

yuuji doesn't know how you do it, to be honest. between the snoring and old man-isms, the way he seems to have a permanent frown on his face. you've been by his uncle's side for as long as he can remember, acting as a mother figure to yuuji. always patient and caring, standing your ground against sukuna who can be bull-headed sometimes (a lot of times), and ultimately doing everything you can for the little family they've created.

he truthfully doesn't remember life without you, and quite frankly, he doesn't want to remember. ever since he was a toddler, you were his sun, yuuji your sunflower, absorbing your warmth and love.

you stayed by their side throughout everything; the ups, the downs, the twisty turvies. never once have you tried to replace his biological mum or even referred to yourself as his mother. but yuuji sees the way your eyes shine with pride and joy when looking at him.

he can see it in your face now as he walks into the kitchen, yawning. you notice him immediately while plating up everyone’s breakfast and attempting to escape sukuna's embrace, who's clinging onto your back like the leech he is.

“dammit woman, just let me hold you,” he growls, tightening him arms around you and kissing up and down your neck.

“sukuna,” you gasp, “not in front of yuuji!”

the giant of a man slowly lifts his face up from your neck and turns to side-eye yuuji. he lets go of you and sighs, grabbing the plates you’ve prepared, setting them on the table.  

“mornin’ brat, sleep well?” he asks yuuji.

“not with all your snoring, he didn’t.” yuuji laughs at your response.

“i don’t snore woman.”

you and yuuji share a look, completely in disbelief at the man’s denial. he’s woken himself up with how loud he is, many, many times. neither of you can believe he has the audacity to stand there and lie with a straight face.

you both scoff and yuuji sits down at the table, in no mood to deal with his uncle’s nonsense this early in the morning. you move towards yuuji planting a soft kiss on his cheek and ruffling his hair.

“sorry he woke you up yuuji,” you say warmly, kissing him once more.

“if anything i should be apologising to you, you’re the one that has to put up with him for the rest of your life,” the boy responds, looking up at you solemnly, genuinely sorry for you.

“i can hear ya both,” sukuna rumbles, mouth full of egg. “anyways, finish eating and make sure you’re ready by 10”

yuuji turns to you in confusion, and sees your face light up, practically buzzing with excitement.  

“where we going?” yuuji asks

you wrap your arms around him tighter and press his cheek onto yours. he basks in your affection and leans impossibly closer towards you.

“it’s a surprise,” you giggle.

yuuji’s face twists in confusion as he stares at the shiny, brand-new motorbike in front of him. it was beautiful, and he’s always dreamed of having that exact model, but he was confused at to why they were there at the dealership. is this some cruel joke? he looks at you though, and shakes the thought out of his head. you would never do that to him.

“you like it, yuuji,” you ask, a broad smile on your face, eyes shining with glee.

 “s’ beautiful,” he nods in response.

his uncle pats his back and lifts his hand up, his own tattooed hand pressing something sharp and chunky into his palm. yuuji looks down and sees… keys?

“she’s all yours,” sukuna smirks, revelling in the disbelief on yuuji’s face. he seems to be frozen for a good 20 seconds, just processing what he’s heard. you and your husband share a smile. it suddenly hits yuuji that the motobike is all his, and his face splits into the widest grin.

“i love you both so much” he whispers, tearing up and throwing himself into sukuna’s arms and an arm around your neck.

the man steadies himself as you both tumble into him, heart suddenly panging at how big his nephew has gotten. it seemed like only yesterday when he was barely up to his shins, and now he was eye level?

sukuna hides his teary smile in yuuji’s hair, tightening one arm around you and softly rubbing his nephews back with his hand.

“yeah yeah, love ya too brat.”

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[amirasainz]

Could you please do reader is Pierre or Daniel girlfriend and he’s so soft for her but she’s Lando bestfriend’s and him and Lando always fight over her, fluffy please with Lando being dramatic little shit?

Yay, I love this idea.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo

The Brit and the Croissant

The paddock was buzzing with the usual chaos of a race weekend. Engineers hustled around the garages, drivers huddled with their teams, and fans filled the grandstands, eager to catch a glimpse of their favorite racers. Y/N stood at the entrance of the Alpine garage, her eyes scanning the scene for a familiar figure. The roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber filled the air, but all she cared about was finding him—Pierre Gasly, her boyfriend and the love of her life.

She spotted him adjusting his helmet, his usual confident smirk on display as he chatted with his race engineer. Pierre's eyes met hers, and his expression immediately softened. His cocky smile was replaced with a gentle one, reserved only for her.

“Mon amour!” Pierre called out, walking over and pulling her into his arms. He kissed her forehead, holding her close. “I missed you.”

Y/N laughed softly, running her fingers through his messy hair. “I saw you two hours ago, Pierre.”

“Two hours too long,” he mumbled into her hair, tightening his embrace.

Y/N loved how soft he was with her, how he let his guard down completely. On the track, he was fierce and competitive, but with her, he was a different person. She kissed him lightly on the lips, but before they could get lost in their little bubble, a familiar voice interrupted them.

“Ugh, get a room, you two,” Lando groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes as he sauntered over, wearing his bright McLaren suit and a pout that would rival a toddler. “You’re always hogging her, Gasly.”

Pierre glanced at Lando, a smirk forming. “Jealous, Norris?”

“No,” Lando scoffed, but his face said otherwise. He turned to Y/N, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, Y/N. You promised you’d hang out with me today, and someone”—he shot Pierre a pointed look—“keeps stealing you away.”

Y/N chuckled, enjoying their little rivalry. “I’m not an object, you know. I can hang out with both of you.”

Lando placed a hand over his heart, dramatically sighing as if he’d been wounded. “Wow, Y/N, my best friend, my number one supporter…betrayed.” He wiped an imaginary tear, causing Y/N to burst into laughter.

Pierre rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. “You’re such a drama queen, Lando.”

“Says the guy who throws a fit every time he doesn’t get his favorite croissants,” Lando shot back, making Y/N giggle. Pierre’s love for pastries was notorious in the paddock.

“Touché,” Y/N teased, nudging Pierre playfully. “I have to give him that one.”

Pierre feigned a wounded look, leaning against the wall dramatically. “Et tu, mon amour? You wound me.”

Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against his stubbled skin. “You know you’re my favorite French drama queen.”

Before Pierre could reply, Lando grabbed Y/N’s hand, pulling her towards the McLaren garage. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s go prank Oscar. I’ve got some rubber snakes that he’s definitely not going to like.”

Y/N shot Pierre an apologetic look, but he just waved them off, his expression soft. “Have fun. But remember, I get her back later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said dismissively, already plotting mischief. “We’ll return her in one piece.”

Pierre watched them walk away, his heart swelling as he saw Y/N’s bright smile. He loved her friendship with Lando, even if it meant sharing her attention more than he would have liked. Lando might be his rival on the track, but off it, the three of them had a bond that was rare and precious.

---

The day passed in a blur of laughter and chaos. Lando’s prank on Oscar had been a roaring success, ending with Oscar chasing Lando around the garage while Y/N tried—and failed—to stop laughing. They spent the afternoon joking around, watching practice sessions, and taking silly selfies, much to the amusement of the McLaren team.

But as evening approached, Y/N found herself missing Pierre. She loved Lando like a brother, but Pierre was her heart. She slipped away from the McLaren hospitality, making her way back to the Alpine motorhome.

Pierre was waiting for her, sitting on the steps with his phone in hand. When he saw her approaching, his face lit up, and he stood up to greet her.

“Back so soon?” he teased, though his eyes were full of warmth.

“I missed you,” Y/N admitted, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

Pierre kissed the top of her head, rubbing her back soothingly. “I missed you too, chérie. Did you and Lando have fun?”

“Yeah, but he’s such a handful,” Y/N said, pulling back to look up at him. “He’s like a hyperactive puppy.”

Pierre chuckled, nodding in agreement. “That’s why you’re good for him. You keep him grounded. But… I’m glad you’re back with me.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the familiar flutter in her chest whenever he looked at her like that. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Just as they were sharing a quiet moment, Lando’s voice broke through the calm. “Oi! Lovebirds! I’m still here, you know.”

Pierre sighed, turning to see Lando leaning against the wall, watching them with a fake pout. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Norris?”

“Yeah, with you two. This is quality third-wheeling right here,” Lando said, unabashed. He sidled up beside Y/N, looping an arm around her shoulders. “Seriously though, Y/N, we need to plan more best friend days. Pierre hogs you way too much.”

Y/N laughed, pulling both boys into a side hug. “I don’t know how I got stuck with the two of you, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Pierre kissed her temple, his voice soft. “We’re lucky to have you, Y/N.”

Lando rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “Yeah, yeah. But remember, Y/N, I was here first.”

Pierre glanced at Lando, raising an eyebrow. “And yet, she’s still with me, Norris.”

“Only because she pities you,” Lando shot back, sticking his tongue out like a child.

Y/N groaned, hiding her face in her hands as Pierre and Lando continued their playful bickering. It was ridiculous how they always fought over her, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Their banter was the heartbeat of her days, and no matter how much they squabbled, she knew deep down that they cared for each other in their own weird, competitive way.

---

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the three of them found themselves sitting on the grass, watching the track lights twinkle in the distance. Y/N sat between Pierre and Lando, her head resting on Pierre’s shoulder while Lando kept talking animatedly about his plans to prank Max next.

“You two are exhausting,” Y/N said, her voice laced with affection.

Pierre squeezed her hand, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. “But you love us.”

“Unfortunately,” Y/N joked, earning a laugh from both boys.

Lando bumped her shoulder with his, smiling softly. “You’re the best, Y/N. Thanks for putting up with us.”

Pierre nodded, his expression full of tenderness as he gazed at her. “Thank you for being the peace between us.”

Y/N looked between the two most important people in her life and grinned. “Always. You’re both stuck with me.”

And in that moment, with the night sky above them and the sounds of the track in the background, everything felt perfect. They were an unlikely trio, but they fit together in the best way possible, and no amount of bickering or teasing could change that.

They were family.

[rafedarling]

queen have u seen the new photos of Drew. 🤭🤭

dad!Drew x reader where like it’s the blue suit red carpet and the whole family is in italy together and reader thinks drew looks so yummy so it’s like smut where they get back to the hotel and they have to be quiet AF

yass girl and not gonna lie, he looks fucking hot !

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐤𝐲

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader summary: at the venice film festival 2024, drew and you, both acclaimed actors, make a stunning appearance on the red carpet for the premiere of the new movie, ‘queer’. your two-year-old twin daughters, ophelia and olympia, accompany you and drew, captivating everyone with their sweet presence. after the event, the starkey returns to their luxurious hotel suite, where, after putting the girls to bed, you and drew indulges in a passionate, intimate moment, trying to keep quiet as your daughters sleeping in the room next door. | word count: 2,8k warning(s): english is not my native language. 18+, smut, piv, creampie, cum play, sexual content, language, MINOR DNI!!

au: fill this form if you want to be tag. like, reblog & reply or much appreciated! tagging: @rafeyslamb

As the sun was setting over Venice, casting the city in a warm, golden glow as you and Drew Starkey arrived at the Venice Film Festival. The air buzzed with excitement as stars from around the world gathered to celebrate the premiere of QUEER, a film that had garnered significant attention for its bold storytelling and representation. Tonight, you and Drew were not just co-stars but partners, sharing the spotlight with your two-year-old twin daughters, Ophelia and Olympia.

As you stepped onto the red carpet, the cameras flashed, capturing the perfect image of a beautiful family. Drew looked stunning in a deep navy suit, the black lapels adding a sharp contrast that highlighted his chiseled features. His hair was styled just so, a little tousled, giving him an effortlessly handsome look. You wore a flowing, elegant gown that complemented Drew’s suit perfectly, the fabric shimmering under the lights as you walked hand in hand.

Ophelia and Olympia were dressed in matching white dresses, their blonde curls bouncing with every step as they clung to your hands, their little faces a mixture of awe and curiosity. They had been to events before, but nothing quite like this. The sheer scale of the festival, the grandeur of the venue, and the attention from the media were overwhelming for anyone, let alone two toddlers. Yet, they handled it with the grace of seasoned professionals, waving shyly at the cameras, their innocent smiles melting the hearts of everyone watching.

As you posed for photos, Drew leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You look incredible tonight,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, glancing at him from beneath your lashes. “But I think the girls are stealing the show.”

Drew chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at Ophelia and Olympia. “They are, aren’t they? Just like their mom—beautiful and captivating.”

The interviews followed, and as usual, Drew handled the press with charm and ease. The reporters were eager to hear about your experiences on set, the dynamics of working together as a couple, and of course, how you managed to balance your careers with raising your daughters. Drew’s answers were thoughtful and sincere, emphasizing how much he valued the time spent with his family, both on and off the set.

“They’re the reason I do this,” he said, glancing at you and the girls with a smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Having them here with me tonight makes it all the more special.”

The night continued with more photos, more interviews, and a palpable sense of anticipation for the premiere. But as much as you enjoyed the spotlight, the most important part of the evening was the shared experience with Drew and your daughters. You could see the pride in Drew’s eyes every time he looked at you or the girls, a silent acknowledgment of the journey you had been on together.

After the screening of QUEER, which was met with a standing ovation, the four of you were whisked back to your hotel in a sleek black car. The night air was cool and refreshing, a welcome contrast to the heat of the cameras and the lights of the red carpet. Ophelia and Olympia, who had been little stars all evening, were starting to show signs of fatigue. Their little eyes drooped, and they leaned heavily against you and Drew, their tiny bodies growing limp with exhaustion.

Back at the hotel, you and Drew worked together to get the girls ready for bed. The suite was spacious and luxurious, with a separate bedroom for the twins. After helping them out of their dresses and into their pajamas, you read them a story, your voice soft and soothing as they snuggled into their beds. Drew sat beside you, one arm draped around your shoulders, his other hand gently stroking Olympia’s hair as her eyes slowly closed.

Ophelia was the first to fall asleep, her hand clutching her favorite stuffed bunny. Olympia held out a little longer, her eyes fluttering open and closed until finally, she gave in to sleep. You and Drew sat there for a moment longer, watching your daughters’ peaceful faces, their soft breathing filling the room with a sense of calm.

Finally, you and Drew quietly left the room, closing the door behind you with a gentle click. The suite was silent, the only sounds the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint noise of the city outside. You leaned against the door, your eyes meeting Drew’s across the room.

“They were amazing tonight,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips.

Drew walked over to you, his gaze intense as he cupped your face in his hands. “They take after their mother,” he said softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You were incredible too. I’m so proud of you.”

You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks at his words. “Thank you,” you murmured, leaning into his touch. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Drew’s eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “We finally have some time to ourselves,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. “What do you want to do?”

A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine at the implication in his tone. You slid your hands up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. “I can think of a few things,” you replied, your voice breathless as you closed the distance between you, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

Drew responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing yours as he pressed you against the door. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the intense need that was building between you. His hands roamed your body, expertly undoing the zipper of your dress and letting it fall to the floor in a soft rustle of fabric.

You broke the kiss just long enough to help him out of his jacket and shirt, your fingers trembling slightly as you undid the buttons. Drew’s hands found your waist, pulling you close as he kissed you again, more urgently this time, his need for you growing with every passing second.

He backed you towards the bed, his hands never leaving your body as he guided you onto the soft mattress. The cool sheets contrasted with the heat of his skin as he hovered above you, his gaze raking over your body with a look of pure adoration.

“You’re so beautiful,” Drew whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he kissed a trail down your neck, his lips leaving a burning path on your skin. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You arched into his touch, your fingers threading through his hair as he continued his descent, his mouth hot against your collarbone. “Drew...” you moaned softly, your voice trembling with need as you felt him reach for the clasp of your bra, expertly undoing it and tossing it aside.

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours as he gently cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, making you gasp. Drew smiled at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself as he dipped his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

Your back arched off the bed at the sensation, a moan escaping your lips as you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, every nerve in your body on high alert as Drew lavished attention on your breasts, his hands and mouth working in perfect harmony to drive you wild.

After what felt like an eternity of blissful torment, Drew continued his journey downward, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach, his hands guiding your hips as he slowly pulled your panties down, leaving you completely exposed to him. He paused for a moment, his eyes darkening with lust as he took in the sight of you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as he gently spread your legs, positioning himself between them.

You bit your lip, anticipation building as you felt the heat of his breath against your most sensitive area. “Drew, please...” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need.

He didn’t make you wait any longer. With a low growl of desire, he dipped his head, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you, your hips bucking involuntarily as you moaned his name. Drew’s hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to pleasure you, his tongue and lips working together to drive you closer and closer to the edge.

You clung to the sheets, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations as Drew brought you to the brink of ecstasy. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as he inserted a finger inside you, the sensation of his long, skilled fingers pushing you over the edge.

You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as Drew continued to work you through it, his fingers and mouth never stopping until you were completely spent, your body going limp with exhaustion.

Drew climbed back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss as he positioned himself at your entrance. You were still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but the feel of him so close, so ready, reignited the fire inside you.

You wrapped your legs around Drew’s waist, pulling him closer as he hovered above you, his breath warm and ragged against your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of love, desire, and admiration swirling within them. He held himself there, just at your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

You nodded, unable to find the words as anticipation coursed through your veins. The look in his eyes was enough to send another shiver of pleasure down your spine. You could feel him, hot and hard, pressing against you, and the need to have him inside you was almost unbearable.

“Please,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I need you, Drew.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. With a slow, deliberate movement, Drew pushed forward, filling you inch by inch. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and pressure as he stretched you, your bodies fitting together like they were made for each other. You both moaned as he entered you fully, the feeling of him deep inside you almost overwhelming.

Drew paused, his forehead resting against yours as he took a moment to savor the sensation, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“So do you,” you replied breathlessly, your hands gripping his shoulders as you adjusted to the feel of him inside you. The connection between you was palpable, an unspoken bond that had only deepened over time. Every touch, every movement felt like a promise, a testament to the love you shared.

Drew started to move, slow and steady at first, his thrusts deep and measured. Each movement sent ripples of pleasure through your body, building a delicious tension that made you gasp and cling to him even tighter. His hands roamed your body, one settling on your hip to guide your movements, the other brushing the hair away from your face as he kissed you deeply.

The kiss was passionate, filled with the kind of raw, unfiltered emotion that only came from years of love and trust. You could feel the intensity of his feelings in the way he kissed you, in the way he held you close as if you were the most precious thing in the world. It was more than just physical; it was a connection of souls, a merging of hearts.

As Drew’s thrusts became more urgent, the pace quickened, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of another orgasm. He seemed to sense it too, his movements becoming more purposeful, his hand slipping between your bodies to find that sensitive bundle of nerves that he knew would push you over the edge.

When he touched you there, the sensation was electric, your body responding instantly as pleasure exploded within you. You cried out his name in silece, your back arching off the bed as the orgasm ripped through you, your body trembling with the force of it. Drew didn’t stop, his movements relentless as he continued to drive into you, prolonging your pleasure until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

Finally, with a few more powerful thrusts, Drew followed you over the edge, his own release coming with a guttural groan as he buried himself deep inside you. You could feel the warmth of his release, the pulsing of his body against yours as he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving with exertion.

For a moment, the two of you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, both of you trying to catch your breath as the aftershocks of pleasure continued to ripple through your bodies. The room was filled with the sounds of your breathing, mingling together in the stillness of the night.

Drew finally lifted his head to look at you, his eyes soft and filled with love. He reached up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek as he smiled down at you. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with sincerity.

You smiled back at him, your heart swelling with love. “I love you, Drew” you replied, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. “I love you, Drew.”

“I love you too,” he whispered back, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. It was a kiss filled with all the love and affection he couldn’t put into words, a promise that he would always be there for you, no matter what.

He rolled over, pulling you with him so that you were lying on his chest, your legs still entwined. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that lulled you into a state of contentment. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

The two of you lay there in silence for a while, simply enjoying the closeness, the feel of each other’s bodies pressed together. The world outside might have been filled with the glitz and glamour of the festival, but in that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s love.

Eventually, Drew shifted slightly, his hand running up and down your back in a soothing motion. “We should probably get some sleep,” he murmured, though there was a note of reluctance in his voice. “The girls will be up early.”

You chuckled softly, knowing he was right. As much as you wanted to stay in this moment forever, the responsibilities of parenthood would call soon enough. “Yeah,” you agreed, though you made no move to get up just yet.

Drew smiled, tightening his hold on you. “We’ll have plenty of nights like this,” he promised, his voice filled with certainty. “Plenty of moments where it’s just you and me.”

You nodded, feeling a warm sense of contentment settle over you. “I’m looking forward to it,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest before finally, reluctantly, rolling off of him.

You both moved slowly, the exhaustion from the day and the intensity of your lovemaking catching up with you. Drew helped you pull the covers up over your bodies, his arm wrapping around you once more as you settled against his side. The bed was warm and comfortable, and you could feel yourself drifting off almost immediately, the events of the day a pleasant blur in your mind.

As you closed your eyes, you felt Drew press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Goodnight, my love,” he whispered, his voice the last thing you heard before sleep claimed you.

“Goodnight,” you murmured back, a smile on your lips as you finally surrendered to the peaceful darkness.

And with that, you both fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

[webslingingslasher]

Frat Peter and he's all cocky, but he gets really shy when you're around and his friends keep teasing him about his little crush and how he's putty in your hands and you don't even know?

god i love him so much

“Your girls here, parker.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, as much as he denies no one believes him. You’re not his girl, not by a long shot but god does he wish you were. The jab still couldn’t stop him from swiveling his neck, sure enough you were laughing with friends, your wide smile made him smile too. You looked so pretty, he’s never seen someone fill out clothes the way you do. 

He needs to find a way to talk to you, it started as group partners and he may have played a little dumb to get you to study with him, just for some one on one time. Since then you’ve gotten closer, and everyday he feels more and more like a lovesick puppy. He’d do anything you ask, just so he can prove he could make you happy. 

“Pong, let’s go, parker.” 

Peter wants to whine like a toddler, he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on you. Not that he needs to, and definitely not to scare off a potential suitor, he just wants to make sure you’re safe, that’s all. He looks you over again, you’re with friends and he thinks you’ll be alright. 

Right before he can turn back to his brothers your eyes flicker up, meeting his you send a grin. Peter’s been caught, he’s been looking over you for a minute and that smile said ‘caught you,’ it made his cheeks warm, a faint blush coats his cheeks and you can’t help but watch as his friends hoop and shake his shoulders, causing him to nearly run to the garage for a game of beer pong. 

Peter doesn’t know how long he’s been playing. He knows it’s been about three games, and he’s trying to act the perfect amount of buzzed. What he does know is that time stopped when you came looking for him, his ears picking up on your fluttery soft voice pushing for apologies.

“Do you know where peter is?” 

Wasted white girl looks appalled you asked, “who the fuck is peter?” 

“Oh. Um, parker?” 

Wasted white girl drags out an ‘oh,’ then points in his general direction, you raise on tiptoes, looking over the shoulders in the cramped room, catching sight of his snapback, turned backwards. You started to make your decent, politely excusing yourself and apologizing when you rub up against someone. 

You think about tapping his shoulder, but you’re a menace. You tug at his hat, pulling it off his head, before you can complete the task his hand grips your wrist, a dull tone comes from his mouth. 

“Don’t do that.” 

Your hand drops, you didn’t know there was a boundary there. 

“I’m sorry!” 

His head whips to yours, wide eyed and flushed. 

“I didn’t know it was you! You can do that, you have my permission.” 

His teammate, Ethan, if you remember correctly, coughed into his hand, one word slipping from his mouth made Peter jerk his shoulder into his. “Simp.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, “peter’s not a simp, that’s mean. You should say sorry.” 

Ethan is having fun, “oh trust me, if you knew what I know, you would call him a simp too.” Peter, in a panic, rips his hat off his head and throws it on yours, it falls over your eyes, you fix it with enough time to watch Peter mumble out “watch it,” before directing all his attention on you. 

“Looking good.” 

You do a spin for him, “think I can pledge next year?” 

“You have my vote.” 

Ethan had to bite back another simp comment. 

“Can you do me a favor?” 

Rushed, “anything.” 

Ethan can’t help his snort, he tries to hide it behind clearing his throat. 

Peter wants to kill his friend. 

“I’ve been ditched and I really have to pee, so would you mind watching my drink?” 

Peter holds out a hand to take it, his palm covering the open mouth. “It would be my honor.” 

You smile at him, “thanks, be right back.” 

“Five minutes and I come looking.” 

That was new, it was protective. It made you feel warm and safe inside, he was a really good friend. You promised you would be back, but the line was longer than you expected and you were unable to complete the task in just a few minutes. 

Peter kept count, and like he said, went looking. Ethan’s pissed that they’ve now lost the game to a forfeit, all because Peter was head over heels in a gushy crush. You bound down the steps in time to see Peter getting aggravated by his friend, you couldn’t help but overhear.

“You know this is super entertaining, right?” 

“Shut up, Ethan.” 

“It��s adorable. The way you run after her, bending to her will. Who knew parker had a bitch in him.” 

In one quick motion Peter had him pinned to the wall. 

“Don’t ruin this for me. I’m gonna make a move, alright? She makes me nervous and I’m not used to this, okay?” 

“Ask her on a fucking date, I’d put a thousand on the line she’d say yes.” 

You wonder who he’s talking about, you have more than an inkling it’s you but Peter’s never seemed interested, just a good friend. It must have been someone else. 

“I’m not betting on Y/N, I like her too much.” 

Oh fuck. He is talking about you, and it makes you warm and fuzzy all over. 

Ethan is right, you would say yes. 

You duck your head down, pressing against the bars on the stairway. 

“I’m okay with you betting on me, take the grand and then take me out on a nice date.” 

Peter’s eyes blew up, he wanted to punch Ethan. He also wanted to thank him. 

“It’s not like that!” Peter feels his brain melt, stop talking, why are you talking?  

You frown, “it’s not?” 

Ethan tries to push his head against the wall, his chin poking up high to get a view of you crouched down. “It is like that, you heard him.” He gags when Peter presses his forearm against his throat, it’s not meant to hurt, just silence. 

“Well, if it is like that, and I make you nervous, there really isn’t a need cause I would say yes.” 

Peter’s arm drops, “come here.” 

Ethan takes this as his moment to escape, you watch the stairs as you follow them down, narrowly missing a spilled beer. Peter meets you at the bottom of the staircase, he hands you over the drink he’d been watching. 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem.” 

You blinked at the boy, he stood there and looked at his hat on your head. You waited until it started to get awkward. 

“If you don’t ask, I will, then I’ll have ripped the rights from you. You’ll have to tell our grandkids you chickened out.” 

That doesn’t sound bad to him, but he thinks the least he can do is get the words out. 

“I would really, really like to take you out for dinner, is that okay?” 

You chew your cheek, “what’s your policy on kissing before the first date?” 

“It should be a thing.” 

You bite your lower lip to hide your smile, it didn’t work. 

“Wanna make it a thing?” 

[angel5ofp0rn]

idk, just a thought 😋

141 x Drunk!Reader / Jealous!Ghost x Drunk!Reader

TW: implied drunk sex

(idk what’s up with me and making the reader drunk all the time ???)

also idk i just like the idea of Soap being a perv and Ghost being a fuckin weirdo 🫣

You didn’t expect the guys to actually give a shit about your birthday... Maybe it was just the excuse to drink.

Still, you couldn't deny that you loved seeing the squad out of uniform and all dressed up for the night.

You even put on a little skirt and low-cut top, curled your hair and wore makeup for the first time in months.

Price bought you your first drink just as a 'happy birthday, kiddo', but it didn't stop there.

Soap got you a few shots and Gaz let you sip from his drinks throughout the night.

You were feeling pretty buzzed by the time you convinced some of the guys to move to the dance floor.

Ghost watched quietly from his spot at the bar across the room. You expected as much.

The two of you have been keeping your distance; you were basically still strangers, apart from the random glances you give each other during training.

Ghost thought of at least saying happy birthday to you, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it.

He wasn’t exactly an affectionate man. Wasn’t great at showing his feelings.

Feelings? The fuck was he thinking?

You’re just nice to look at, that’s all.

It was strange seeing you with your hair curled and your skin showing, almost like a real woman. He had a nagging thought that if the guys weren’t around, he would've gone over to you.

You and Soap are on the dance floor, you tipsy and swaying while he holds your waist, keeping you steady as he mumbled something close to your ear.

"I don't think so." You muse, looking up at Soap. He had asked if Price was watching the two of you, knowing Price has a tendency to act like a father towards you especially. "Why?"

Soap took a moment before he spoke again, the alcohol clearly getting to him. His words were becoming more and more slurred throughout the night, although he still had that Scottish accent mixed it that kept him sounding charming... though almost unintelligible.

"Y'know yer beautiful, aye? An' th' lads, they've been eyein' ya for the whole night. 'Course ol' Price, he's been' tryin' to keep us from gettin' yer attention… But even Ghost! Ghost thinks yer fuckin’ gorgeous.”

"Ghost thinks that?" You tried to focus your eyes on Soap’s, fighting the alcohol.

Soap leaned in even close now, his breath smelling like strong liquor. He even placed his hand on the small of your back, right above your skirt as he spoke again.

"Oh, aye. But we all do… I do."

You giggled at that. Soap's arm wrapped tightly around your waist now, pulling you chest to chest and murmuring more drunken ramblings into your ear.

You quickly forgot what Soap mentioned about Ghost.

But Ghost was still watching.

He watched the way Soap leaned in to whisper in your ear, the cocky smirk on his face, how dangerously close his hand was to your ass.

He watched you drape your arms around Soap’s neck, eyelids heavy. He watched how your eyes wouldn’t focus on Soap’s eyes; they kept darting down to his lips.

Ghost didn’t watch to watch anymore.

“The steamin’ hell’r you doin’, LT!” Soap calls after Ghost as the masked man grabs your arm and drags you off.

“Let me go!” You groan, trying to pull away from his grip. When that didn’t work, you tried to stomp his toes.

No use, he had those fucking steel toes on as usual. After more ignored pleas, you resorted into trying to drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes; like an unruly toddler.

Ghost didn’t miss a beat. He easily scooped you up and slung you over his shoulder as he head towards the bar’s exit.

The second he set you back to your feet outside on the pavement you tried to shove him.

Stupid idea, really. Fucker didn’t budge.

“What is your problem?” You glare at him.

“My problem?” Ghost’s voice was low. “You were about to let MacTavish feel you up in front of everyone in there.”

“Who cares if Soap and I have a bit of fun? What, are you jealous or something?” You groan.

“Of course I am!”

You froze. Your eyes locked in with his.

“You’re… jealous?” You ask again, softer this time.

You can see the subtle movement of Ghost’s jaw clenching beneath his balaclava.

“You’re drunk.” Ghost states. “You should get back to base and sleep it off.”

He’s right, of course. But you don’t listen.

You don’t fully realize you’re doing it, but you reach your hand up and touch his face.

Well, his mask.

Ghost’s breath hitches, and he thinks of swatting your hand away but he doesn’t. He lets your cup his face. Caress his jaw. Rub your thumb over the fabric covering his lips.

He even lets you pull him in closer, lets you get just an inch away from touching noses before he speaks again.

“I cant kiss you.”

You finally come back to earth, your drunken mind suddenly sobering.

“Oh.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, both silent. Both unsure of what happens now.

“Guess I’ll just go-”

“I want to.” Ghost speaks again. “I would like to.”

“Okay…”

“But I can’t.” His huge arms cross as he looks down at up. For something so genuine, he’s saying it as if it’s a threat.

“Right…” You nod slowly, your drunken brain trying its best to gauge what’s happening. “So..?”

“I can’t have you flirting with MacTavish.” He practically growls. “He doesn’t want more than a quick fuck.”

You frown at this, eyebrows lowering into a scowl.

“So you won’t kiss me, but I can’t flirt with anyone else?”

“Yes.” Ghost acts as if this was common sense.

“‘s’not fair.” You roll your eyes. “You can’t do that t’me.”

“Well, I am.”

“Are not.” You challenge. You push past him and re-enter the bar, leaving him outside and alone.

“Bonnie!” Soap calls you over as soon as he sees you.

He’s sat at a table with a bunch of other men that you don’t recognize. He pats his thigh, inviting you to have a sit on his lap.

Ghost’s warning still fresh in your head makes you hesitate.

But who is he to tell you who you can and can’t flirt with? He doesn’t even talk to you.

You try not to stumble as you make your way towards Soap, accepting the invite to sit on his lap. His arm instantly wraps around your waist, holding you in place.

“Didn’t know you had a barracks bunny.” One of the men snickers as he looks you over.

You frown, looking to Soap, waiting for him to correct them. To explain that you’re actually on the squad- no, the best sniper on the squad. An asset to the team, really.

Instead, Soap laughs along with the rest of them, giving your thigh a squeeze. “Nah, nah. ’m keepin’ this bunny all to m’self.”

You had to have heard him wrong, right? Maybe it was the alcohol affecting your hearing.

Before you could defend yourself, you felt Soap’s hand sliding up your thigh, slipping under your skirt.

Your face is burning. The guys all laugh. You feel sick.

Flirting and kissing is one thing… Soap treating you like a sex toy is another.

“Soap, stop.” You mumble, pushing his hand away.

Soap gives you a wink. He thinks you’re playing some sort of game here. His hand starts to creep up your bare thigh again. His lips press against your neck.

“I said stop!” You stand up and shove him by his chest, admittedly harder than you intended to.

Soap landed on his back on the dirty bar floor, his face a mix of pissed off and confused.

Price was by your side immediately, pulling you away from the table as Gaz helped Soap to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Price, I just-“

“I’ve got you a cab outside. Get your ass back to base and sleep it off.” Price barked.

Sober you could handle commands and threats like they were nothing.

Drunk you started tearing up immediately.

Price mumbled something that sounded like ‘for fuck’s sake, kid’ as you turned and walked outside.

Ghost was still outside, balaclava lifted so he could smoke a cigarette.

You didn’t notice him as you slid into the back seat of the cab, but he saw you.

Then he saw Soap and Price exiting the bar one your cab took off.

He watched calmly, smoking as normal while Price stood with his foot on the side of Soap’s head/face, Soap’s cheek pressed against the pavement.

He couldn’t hear what they were fighting about and frankly he didn’t care. He wondered if any of it had been the cause of your teary eyes.

•••

You lift your face off of your pillow and squint at the caller ID as your phone rang.

You’d only been back in your room for about an hour at this point and you’ve been trying to battle the spins.

You swipe to answer the call, smushing your face back into the pillow and closing your eyes again.

“H’llo?”

“Make it back to base okay, kiddo?” Price’s stern, gruff voice came through the speaker

“Mhm.” You mumble your response.

“Good. Sorry about MacTavish; drunken Scot can’t handle his alcohol…” Price sighs. “He’ll be dealt with in the morning.”

“s’okay.” You nod even though he can’t see it.

“You sure you’re alright then?”

“Mhm…”

Price exhaled a deep breath. “Get some shut eye. I'll be seeing you at 0530 sharp for PT."

"Yes sir. Love you."

You didn't fully realize that you told Price that you love him as if you were speaking to your dad.

Price was quiet for a second before his tone subtly shifted to sounding more gentle. "Love you too, kid. I'll see you at five-thirty."

You end the call and force yourself to sit up despite your still tipsy state. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep with everything on your mind.

Well… with Ghost on your mind.

You call him next, not really expecting him to answer at all. He kind of doesn’t; there’s no voice on the other end, but you could tell he was there.

“Ghost?”

“Yeah.”

“So- Why… why didn’t you kiss me?” You stand up off of the bed and pace your room. More like stumble around your room.

“Can’t.”

“But why?” You groan. “Is it because of Price?”

“We work together.”

“So?” You find a hoodie and pull it on over your going out clothes. “That didn’t stop Soap.”

Silence.

“And I… I really wanted you to, y’know? And… I think I said ‘love you’ to Price. Y’think he’ll be mad at me?” You start kicking your heels off.

“…you told Price that you love him?”

You kind of giggle at that, hearing it back. “No, I didn’t tell him I love him. I just said ‘love you’ to him.”

You think you hear Ghost snort at that. “Are we done here?”

“Well, no…”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to open your door.”

Ghost doesn’t speak. You look around the hall to make sure none of the guys would see you.

“Please?”

The call ends. Ghost slowly opens his door and peers at you from the small open space.

You look up at him, messy hair and mascara smudged under your eyes. Your hoodie covered most of your outfit and you were barefoot.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Can I come in?” You ignore his comment.

Ghost hesitates but he does step aside and let you into his room.

It was so dark in his room that you almost didn’t notice that he was maskless. Too bad you couldn’t see him better.

You didn’t really know what you planned on doing now that you were in his room… You honestly didn’t think he’d let you get this far.

Ghost’s hand touched your face. His thumb wiped under your eyes, attempting to fix your makeup.

The gesture was considerate though you knew he was just making the smudge bigger.

“I can’t kiss you.” Ghost repeated his words from earlier, but this time it was softer. More gentle.

You shook your head.

“We don’t have to kiss.”

[theonottsbxtch]

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER PT5 | MV1

an: AND WE'RE BACK!! WHO MISSED OUR FAVOURITE LITTLE FAMILY! can't wait to hear what you guys think of this part, i've loved being with them this week, this is a shorter chapter but i've got ideas for what might happen next! lmk if y'all wanna see anything in particular

wc: 3.2k

Theo was four when his parents welcomed his sister, and Max very nearly missed it, if not for Danny.

It had been a normal day at the garage, Max elbow-deep in an engine rebuild, grease staining his hands and his focus entirely on the task at hand. His phone, forgotten on the workbench, buzzed furiously with calls and messages. It wasn’t until Danny came barreling into the shop, panting like he’d just run a marathon, that Max looked up.

“Max! Man, what the hell are you doing?” Danny wheezed, clutching his knees.

Max straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. “Uh, working? What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re dying.”

Danny shot him a glare, pointing accusingly at the phone vibrating incessantly on the workbench. “Your wife is trying to call you! She’s in labour, man! She’s having the baby!”

Max froze, the rag slipping from his fingers. “What?”

“She’s at the hospital! Her aunt’s with her, but you need to move! Now!”

Max’s heart lurched into overdrive. Without a word, he sprinted to the workbench, grabbed his phone, and bolted out the door. “Danny, lock up!” he shouted over his shoulder as he jumped onto his bike.

Danny shook his head, muttering, “You owe me for this one, man.”

Max arrived at the hospital in record time, still in his grease-stained shirt and boots. His wife was mid-contraction when he burst into the room, panting, his face a mixture of guilt and relief.

“You’re here,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing slightly before softening at his frazzled appearance.

“I’m here,” he confirmed, rushing to her side and taking her hand. “I’m sorry, angel. My phone was on silent—”

“Save it,” she hissed, squeezing his hand so tightly he thought his bones might break. “You’re here now. Just don’t let go.”

Max didn’t. Not for a second. Hours later, they welcomed a healthy baby girl into the world. Max cried as he held her for the first time, the tiny bundle swaddled in pink resting against his chest. He looked at his wife, her hair damp and her face radiant despite her exhaustion.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re perfect.”

Their daughter, Mary-Ann, came home a few days later to a little house with a white picket fence that they had purchased not long before her birth. It was a modest place, but it was theirs, filled with laughter, love, and the chaos that only a toddler and a newborn could bring.

Theo was adjusting to his new role as a big brother with enthusiasm and curiosity. He followed his parents around, always asking to hold the baby or show her his toys. “She likes dinosaurs, right?” he would ask, clutching his favourite plastic stegosaurus.

“She loves dinosaurs,” Max assured him, grinning as he ruffled Theo’s hair.

Max had seamlessly embraced fatherhood, splitting his time between the garage and his family. He spent his evenings teaching Theo how to kick a football in the back garden and his nights rocking Mary-Ann to sleep.

The house, with its picket fence and flowerbeds lovingly tended by his wife, was the picture of the life Max had never imagined for himself. Yet, here he was, living it and loving every moment.

The day of Mary-Ann’s baptism dawned clear and bright, the kind of perfect day that made everything feel just a little more magical. Their little family was dressed in their Sunday best, Theo proudly wearing a bowtie that his mother had wrestled him into after much negotiation, and Mary-Ann bundled in a delicate white christening gown.

They arrived at the church to find her aunt, Danny, and a few close friends waiting for them, just as they had for Theo’s baptism years ago. Her aunt immediately swooped in to coo over Mary-Ann, her face soft with affection.

“She’s the spitting image of you at this age,” her aunt said warmly, brushing a soft curl away from Mary-Ann’s forehead.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t inherit my teenage rebellion,” she joked, glancing at Max, who chuckled.

The service itself was intimate and beautiful. As the pastor spoke, Theo sat on Max’s lap, squirming occasionally but staying quiet enough to earn whispered praise from both his parents. When it came time for the baptism, Max and his wife stood together at the front of the church, Theo holding onto his mother’s hand while Max held Mary-Ann close.

The pastor asked Theo if he wanted to say anything, and the boy puffed out his chest importantly, his tiny voice ringing out through the quiet chapel. “We’re all gonna be... um... part of Chris-tain-ity now!”

There was a soft chuckle from the congregation, but Theo frowned, frustrated by his own mispronunciation. His brows knitted together, and before anyone could stop him, he muttered under his breath, “Damn it.”

Max’s head snapped around, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at his son. “Where did you hear that, Theo?”

Without hesitation, Theo turned and pointed to Danny, who froze mid-grin. “Uncle Daddy says it all the time.”

The entire room dissolved into laughter, but Max’s expression darkened. “His name is Uncle Danny. Not Daddy,” he corrected firmly. He handed Mary-Ann to his wife with exaggerated care and then fixed Danny with a dangerous look. “Uncle Danny also has five seconds to run.”

Danny’s eyes widened as he stammered, “Now, hold on a second—”

“Five.”

Danny bolted toward the back of the church, nearly tripping over a pew. Max didn’t miss a beat, stepping around the altar and charging after him. Theo laughed hysterically as he watched his father chase Danny out the door, and his mother shook her head, trying to stifle her own giggles.

When Max returned a few minutes later, slightly winded but victorious, Danny trailing behind him with a sheepish grin, the ceremony continued. The pastor, who had been struggling to keep a straight face, resumed his blessing, and little Mary-Ann was baptised without further incident.

As they left the church, Theo clung to Max’s hand, his face lit with excitement. “Daddy, can I chase Uncle Danny next time?”

Max ruffled his hair, smirking. “Not until you’re faster than me, kid.”

The two of them loved the life they had built together and sometimes when Max woke up he had to pinch himself. Just under half a decade ago he was eating dry hotdogs and drinking stale beers in a rundown trailer. Now he was helping his wife. His wife. In the kitchen with his two kids. Not one, two. Max was a father and everyday he woke up he couldn’t really believe. it.

The smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafted through the house as she stood at the counter, carefully icing a tray of perfectly golden cupcakes. Mary-Ann was nestled in her baby chair nearby, happily chewing on a soft toy, and the kitchen felt like the warm, beating heart of their home.

Out in the garage, Max had Theo standing on a small step stool by the workbench, his tiny hands gripping a wrench that was far too big for him. Max crouched beside him, guiding his hands as they worked on an old oil pan together. Theo giggled every time Max made a joke, his high-pitched laughter filling the air.

She wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed a glass of iced tea, and wandered outside to watch her boys. Leaning against the doorframe, she crossed her arms and smiled. “Teaching him how to change oil already? He’s four, Max.”

Max turned, his grease-streaked face lighting up when he saw her. “Hey, never too early to learn the basics, right, buddy?”

Theo nodded enthusiastically, smearing a streak of oil across his cheek as he waved the wrench triumphantly. “Mama, I’m helping!”

“I can see that,” she laughed, walking over and kissing the top of his messy hair.

As her gaze wandered around the garage, it landed on their old motorbike, tucked into the corner, its polished chrome gleaming even in the dim light. Her smile turned into a smirk, and she gestured toward it with her glass. “You know, you’re going to have to sell that death trap.”

Max froze mid-laugh, a look of horror crossing his face. “What? No way. We’ve got so many memories with that bike.”

“We have two kids now, Max.”

He frowned, standing up and crossing his arms. “But what if Theo wants it when he grows up?”

She raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip. “He’s not stepping a foot on that thing.”

Max threw his hands up in exaggerated protest. “Oh, so when it’s us, it’s fine, but when it’s Theo, it’s a problem?”

She grinned, completely unbothered. “Yup.”

Before he could argue further, Danny strolled into the garage, a familiar plastic container in hand. “Alright, where’s the good stuff? I heard there’s baking going on in that kitchen, and you know the deal—Danny gets dibs.”

She laughed, pointing toward the house. “I’ll bring you some in a second. Just made a fresh batch.”

As Danny leaned against the workbench, Max glanced at him, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, Danny, you wanna buy that death trap over there?”

Danny raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bike. “How much are we talking?”

Max grinned. “Fifty bucks.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

Max smirked, holding out a hand. “You buy it, but I still get to use it whenever I want.”

Danny laughed, shaking his head but reaching out to shake Max’s hand anyway. “You got yourself a deal, man.”

Max turned to her with a triumphant grin, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans. “See? It’s sold. Problem solved.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but smiling as she headed back into the house. “You two are impossible.”

As she disappeared into the kitchen, Max knelt back down beside Theo, who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Daddy, what’s a death trap?”

Max chuckled, ruffling his hair. “It’s something fun that your mom doesn’t like.”

From the kitchen, she called out, “I heard that!”

While she packed up some of her baked goods for Danny she too thought of how lucky she was. How all her prayers had been listened to. How she finally made it out of that house. How she was going to witness all her own kid’s life milestones with joy and love, not hatred and jealousy. 

The morning of Theo’s first day of school, the sunlight streamed through the windows as the family bustled to get ready. Theo stood proudly in his brand-new school uniform, his backpack almost as big as he was. Mary-Ann, her curls tied up in tiny pigtails, was toddling around in her nursery outfit, clutching her stuffed bunny like it was her lifeline.

Their mother, however, was a whirlwind of emotions. She double-checked Theo’s lunchbox for the third time and nearly forgot to zip Mary-Ann’s coat, all while blinking back tears.

“I can’t believe they’re both going,” she murmured, her voice trembling as she fixed Theo’s collar for the tenth time.

Max, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee, tried to hide his grin. “Sweetheart, they’re not moving out. It’s just school and nursery.”

She shot him a glare. “Don’t start with me today, Max.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Come here, buddy,” he said, crouching down to Theo’s level. “You ready for your big day?”

Theo nodded, his little chest puffed out. “I’m gonna make so many friends!”

Max ruffled his hair. “That’s my boy. And you,” he added, turning to Mary-Ann and lifting her into his arms. “You take care of those nursery teachers, alright? Show ‘em who’s boss.”

Mary-Ann giggled, planting a slobbery kiss on his cheek.

After a bittersweet drop-off that left her sniffling the entire car ride home, they returned to their now eerily quiet house. For the first time in years, it was just the two of them.

She walked into the living room, glanced at the toys still scattered around, and sighed heavily, sinking into the couch. “It’s too quiet.”

Max sat beside her, pulling her into his side. “I told you this morning was gonna hit you hard.”

She swatted his chest lightly. “It’s just… I’ve never been in the house without one of them here. It’s so empty.” She buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled. “What if they need me? What if Mary-Ann gets scared? Or Theo forgets his lunch?”

Max chuckled softly, rubbing her back. “Sweetheart, Theo’s got this. The kid’s practically running for class president. And Mary-Ann? She’s gonna have the nursery wrapped around her finger before lunch.”

She peeked at him from behind her hands, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “You think so?”

“I know so.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple.

For a moment, she leaned into him, letting the comfort of his presence soothe her. But the silence of the house pressed in again, making her sigh.

Max pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know, we’ve got the house all to ourselves now.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Max…”

He grinned, running his fingers lightly up her arm. “I’m just saying. We’ve got a whole empty house and a few hours of peace.”

Despite herself, she laughed, smacking his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m practical,” he countered, leaning closer. “We might never get this chance again, angel. Think about it.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes, but her cheeks flushed. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting this right now.”

“I’m just trying to make the most of the quiet,” he teased, his hand slipping around her waist. “And besides, you’re way too stressed. Let me help you relax.”

She laughed despite herself, the weight of the morning momentarily forgotten as he kissed her neck, his stubble tickling her skin.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured, tilting her head to meet his lips, her heart finally feeling a little lighter.

And if she counted the exact weeks, that day was how she ended up pregnant with her third and final child.

Nine months later, their family grew again with the arrival of a boy they named Daniel. It was a tribute to Danny, their ever-reliable friend who had, over the years, become less like a buddy and more like an honorary member of the family.

Daniel came into the world with a loud cry and a shock of dark hair, immediately staking his place in the chaos of their household. Mary-Ann, now three and brimming with sass, had proudly declared herself the "boss" of her new baby brother. She often toddled around after him, dragging her favourite stuffed bunny in one hand and fussing over Daniel like a miniature mother.

Theo, at five, took his role as the eldest sibling very seriously. He loved showing off to Mary-Ann and anyone who’d listen about how he could hold his baby brother “without dropping him” (a feat Max closely supervised with a hovering hand). Theo also began peppering Max with endless questions about how cars worked, proudly announcing that he’d take over the garage one day.

The house was louder now, bursting with life and love in every corner. Daniel’s cries, Theo’s endless chatter, and Mary-Ann’s theatrical storytelling meant there was never a dull moment.

Max had learned to juggle bottles, bedtime stories, and car repairs, often collapsing into bed with her at the end of the day, marvelling at the whirlwind their life had become.

On quieter days—though “quiet” was a stretch—she’d watch Max play with the kids in their backyard. Mary-Ann would climb all over him, Theo would ask a million questions about the engine of a toy car, and baby Daniel would sit in his lap, chewing on whatever he could grab.

Sunday mornings had become a cherished tradition for her. Dressing Theo in his little button-up shirts, coaxing Mary-Ann into tights and her favourite frilly dress, and cradling baby Daniel in his soft onesie all felt like sacred rituals. She loved sharing her faith with her children, teaching them the hymns, and watching their faces light up during Sunday school.

But as much as she loved church, there was always a weight to bear. Her parents still attended the same church, their presence lingering like a spectre of the past. While most of the congregation had embraced her family with warmth, her parents had not. They’d sit on the far side of the pews, casting disapproving glares, and every so often, there were whispers—cutting, cruel words spread by those who believed her parents' version of events.

Still, she focused on her children. Theo beamed when he memorised Bible verses, Mary-Ann proudly showed off her colouring pages, and baby Daniel giggled at the choir. Sharing this part of her life with them felt like reclaiming something pure.

That afternoon, the church hosted a children’s Bible study, and she stayed to help with crafts and snacks while Max wrangled the baby. Daniel was perfectly content napping on his dad’s chest while Max sat in the corner, earning approving glances from the other parents for his patience and attentiveness.

As they packed up to leave, her father appeared, stepping out of the shadows like a storm cloud. His eyes were cold, his expression a mask of disdain. He walked past her, close enough that she could feel the venom in his whispered word:

"Whore."

The word cut through her like a knife. She froze, her heart pounding, the air sucked out of the room. Before she could even react, Max’s voice broke the moment.

"Angel, hold Daniel."

She turned to him, startled, as he handed her the baby with a calmness that belied the fire in his eyes. Then, without hesitation, Max spun on his heel and marched toward her father.

The sound of Max’s fist connecting with her father’s jaw was thunderous in the quiet room. Her father staggered back, clutching his face, as gasps rippled through the remaining churchgoers.

Max stood tall, his voice steady but cold. “Don’t you ever call my wife that again. You lost any right to speak to her the day you hurt her and abused your power. She’s a better person than you’ll ever be.”

Her father glared up at Max, but he didn’t dare rise. The weight of his disgrace was palpable as the onlookers murmured, their judgement no longer directed at her but at the man who had insulted his own daughter in a house of worship.

She stood rooted to the spot, Daniel cradled in her arms, her cheeks flushed. She could feel every eye in the room on her, but the only one that mattered was Max’s. He turned back to her, his expression softening, and strode toward her.

Max placed a gentle hand on her back, his touch grounding her. “Let’s go, angel,” he said quietly, his voice carrying none of the anger from moments before.

She nodded, unable to form words, and followed him out, their children close by. As they left the church, she glanced down at Theo and Mary-Ann, both wide-eyed but clutching each other’s hands tightly.

When they got to the car, she took a deep, shaky breath. “Max—”

He cut her off with a kiss to her temple. “Don’t. You don’t owe him anything. Not even your anger.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she leaned into him, Daniel squirming lightly in her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Max tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. “You and these kids are my family. No one, not even him, gets to treat you like that.”

taglist: @sinofwriting @le-le-lea @vanicogh @iamred-iamyellow @rayaskoalaland @spookyanamurdock @iimplicitt @hellowgoodbye @maximuminfluencerstarlight @lottalove4evelyn @piceous21 @ladscarlett @leclerc13 @linnygirl09 @labelledejourr @cmleitora @fortunapre @felicityforyou @isagrace22 @bookishnerd1132 @formulaal @mastermindbaby @daddyslittlevillain @inmynotes63 @litllefox @hollstopia

[babygirl-riley]

Daddy’s Gonna Buy You a Mockingbird

When coming home Simon hears his daughter start to fuss.

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood trauma, fluff, swearing, Dad!Simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

Simon was fucking tired, the mission was long and difficult. It took them 4 months to plan the fucker just for the target to know their every move. He lost lots of men and women those nights, they had to camp somewhere in the middle of the desert cause transportation got fucked.

He unlocked the door of his home and walked in. Immediately he heard the whimpering. Simon heard you trying to lullaby both of your toddler. Simon was told that she has been sick for almost 4 days. It was teething that led to two ear infections. His poor angel was getting her ass jumped left and right with them infections.

He took his mask and boots off leaving them on the shelf near the door. He locked the door as he made his way through the hallway. When getting closer he heard you sniffling. “I don’t know what to do baby girl,” The toddler cried harder as you cried with her. “I am sorry. What do you need baby?”

Simon tapped the door making you jump. At first you thought you were going to fight but then relief came through. “Simon,” You started to sob. “Just take a shower and I will be there in minute.”

“I can take her.” He said walking fully in.

“No,” You wiped your tears quickly before shaking your head. “It’s fine you just got home. Please just take a shower love.”

Simon nodded, he didn’t want to but he could tell if he didn’t you would burst. He saw the dark circles under your eyes, how red your eyes were. You haven’t gotten any sleep. That tugged at his best strings, you have been dealing with this all by yourself so he wants to be able to help you.

Simon quickly got into the shower, washing all the paint, blood, sweat, and dirt from him. He waited for a moment before turning the faucet off and get out. He heard your sobs once more as he wrapped the towel around himself. Opening the door that showed you laying on your side curled up. Simon walked up to you and sat next to your body. He placed a hand on your hip rubbing circles.

“Not the best welcome home,” You sighed turning to face him. “Im sorry.”

“For what love? Taking care of our child? Don’t ever apologize for that.” He reassured, basically whispering.

“Just me crying and Im so fucking tried. She doesn’t sleep nothing longer than maybe 5 minutes before she is screaming. And I wanted to give you a warmer welcome and instead buzzed you off and…”

“Thats enough sweethear’ it has been a long week for you,” He got up to grab sweatpants and went around to his side to pull the blankets up and over him. You watched as he laid and scooted closer to you wrapping his arm around you. “Come ‘ere, get some sleep my dove.”

He doesn’t remember when you fell asleep or even him. Simon heard the soft whimpers start, you didn’t move and he was glad that you didn’t. He was also very happy that you moved out of his grasp while in your sleep. Simon carefully and quietly headed out of the room. Rubbing his tired eyes as he made it to his daughter’s room.

When he approached the room there she was. Standing up in her crib crying, once her eyes landed on his she cried harder. “Daddy.” She called a couple of times.

“Alright princess, you’re alright daddy’s here.” He said picking her up.

It took him a back of how hot she is, sweat gripping her pjs. Her crying increasing as she gripped onto his shoulder. “Shhh I know,” He said bouncing up and down. “I know baby.”

He felt her diaper and walked to the changing table, which to her was a sin. When he placed her down she screamed a bit, immediately he gently placed a palm on her chest. Putting small pressure. She stopped screaming as she still cried. His daughter loved when he did that when she wanted to be cuddled yet when he had to do certain things like this.

Because of how many times he has done this with her, he one handed did the diaper. He left her only in her diaper, get some air to her skin due to sweating and her being hot. As she still cried, he picked her up and lead out of the room walking to the kitchen. “Let’s try a warm bottle and me a tea yeah?” He said quietly, holding her close as she still cried.

While working on the bottle he rocked back and forth waiting for the teapot to heat up. He wrapped both of his arms around her holding her more close. “I’m ‘orry my birdie, teeth are arseholes. I know.”

She held around his neck placing her head down on his shoulder. Simon kept holding on until the smallest noise came from the pot. He didn’t want to wake you, he was even surprised you haven’t woke up yet. His daughter became more whimpering than crying.

He poured his mug first so the water could cool down just a bit more. Then poured water into her bottle. He made his tea before finish making her bottle. Afterward he walked to the living room and placed the tv on. Miss Rachel was her favorite to watch lately, that’s what you mentioned.

He placed her forward towards the tv as he placed his mug on the side table. Simon held her close to him as she drank her bottle. Rubbing her belly as he watched the show with her. He hated this woman, just found her annoying, you mentioned to him that it was her job to do that fake high pitch thing. To him it just made him want to mute it and never see it again.

His daughter leaned closer to him as he sipped his tea. She sniffled and hiccuped due to crying the whole time. He smoothed her thick blonde hair back, making her eyes roll. Another thing she gets from him. People massaging his scalp or play with his hair he would pass out from.

After three videos both Simon and her were laying on the couch. He had her on his chest with a blanket on both of them. “Shh I know,” He said as she started to whimper again. “Daddy is here, don’t worry. He will stay. I would do anythin’ for you not to be in this pain.”

She sucked on her binki her eyes rolling fighting sleep. Yet another thing she got from him. Fighting sleep. Simon remembered when you told him you were pregnant with her. He was terrified. Scared that he wouldn’t be good to her, that he would turn into his own father.

Simon actually left for hours from the house making you think that it was a bad idea to tell him. Until he came back in tears, first time you seen him break down. Telling you his fears and worries. You would comfort him and hold him that he has never been an ounce of his father. Never be like him.

Simon remembered when he asked for his dad to hold him. His dad told him to stop being a child, to grow up. Or even watch him cry in pain and laugh at the fact he was crying. He even remember Tommy being hit for even mentioning that his throat hurt. Telling him that is something to be crying about when he was hurt.

Because of those memories he was going on for months in his mind that he didn’t believed that, didn’t believe that he would be a good father, it wasn’t until she was born. When he held her in his big hands. He knew that this was the opportunity to not be his low life father. And yet here he was being not that, his father would have never been comforting him when he was sick. Holding him. Loving him. He was grateful to be able to be here for her. For you. To show the love and care that he wanted to.

Simon sighed as he felt her breathing slow down, falling into deep sleep. He settled more down into the couch as he closed his eyes, holding on to his princess.

You woke up with the sun beaming into the room. You groaned as you placed a hand to where Simon would have been. It was cold. You opened your eyes and frowned. Was a dream that he was home? You sighed getting up and heading to your daughter’s room. For it to be empty too.

You walked around the house figuring out where the hell was your daughter. Which when you heard Miss Rachel on the tv and two figures on the couch. It made your heart swell. You walked to around to face both your daughter clinging onto her father. Simon softly snoring and his daughter as well. You forget how similar they look.

The soft features of when they slept. Their hair. Their nose. You also noticed that she was just in her diaper and didn’t look sweaty. You inhaled deeply feeling a bit of relief. Hopefully that means that her temperature went down and back to normal.

You smiled thinking about the time where you were almost about to pop. Simon holding your tummy telling your daughter that he will protect her with every ounce of his being. Not matter where or what she is doing, he will be there. You would play with his hair as he rubbed your tummy, feeling her move every time he would place a hand on your tummy.

You grabbed both bottle and mug, walking back to the kitchen. “Definitely going to be a daddy’s girl.” You whispered, starting to make breakfast for your perfect family.

[ferg0s]

Nanase being infatuated by his pink lock partner not cuz he’s like weirdo but because he think she’s so fucking cool. You’re a little flustered by the compliments and praise he gives you for literally breathing. It feels like showing a toddler the most basic magic trick the way his eyes light up and the smile spreads across his face.

“I’m so buzzed!” He exclaims as the two of you make your way on the field. You promised you’d show him your direct shot, and teach him how to do it, and you were sure that he didn’t sleep all night due to the excitement. He was a breath of fresh air in the other wise bleak program. Bluelock was filled with people who would sell your soul for a grain of rice - if they had any respect for you, other wise it would be for free - so his general cheery attitude had you smiling for the first time in weeks.

“Okay-“ you sigh, using the helm of your shirt to wipe your sweat off. “Again.” You instruct as you two get ready to run through the drill again. Him trying to copy what you had showed him and you trying to block him. It was more beneficial to you than him, because explaining the moves to him made you understand the process better and then executing it made you perfect any mistakes.

When the spandex finally came in, you wouldn’t admit it, but you were nervous as fuck. Being surrounded by all the pretty and literal definition of peak female athletic physique has you second guessing yourself as you look at your self in the bathroom mirror. This was such a stupid thing to get hung up on, but with the overall anxiety and self doubt that lingered in bluelock, body dysmorphia wasn’t something unexpected. You convinced your self not to crawl back in the old frumpy uniform by remembering how much you sweat it in, and decided to prioritize not getting a heat stroke over your anxiety. You could cry about it later.

You hoped it wouldn’t be that much of a distraction, maybe if you acted like everything was fine it would-

“WOOOOW!”

You cringed at the sound of Nanase as he walked up behind you. “I didn’t know you had so much muscle-“ he said cheerfully. It was so stupid. Such a small compliment - coming from a man who had more muscle than you could ever have- ogling at your biceps and asking you to flex. You came to hate how he could turn your mood around.

“You look like a Micheal Angeles statue!”

“It’s Michelangelo , Nanase.”

“Oh.”

That stupid himbo had your heart.

When it came time for selection for the U-20 team, the men went first. You crossed your fingers and hoped that Nanases name would be mentioned, glancing over at him with a smile before it began. Looking over in concern when his name didn’t come up. He looked dejected, rightfully so. But when it came turn for the woman’s U-20, and your name was one of the first to be called - you froze. Oh my god, this was your dream.

You seemed to freeze up, only coming to when you felt someone wrap their arms around you and pull you into a hug.

“Oh my god!” Nanase exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you!” He pulled away from you and smiled looking down at you. It took you a minute to realize what was happening. Had he walked across the room to come congratulate you? You could see the remnants of tears in his eyes - no doubt from the crushing news he’d just received, but despite that he has a smile on his face, looking down at you with no joy. No malice, no jealousy. Just… pure happiness.

You felt your eyes tear up, it had been so long since you had heard that. It broke your heart to see that he didn’t get selected, you had seen first hand how capable he was, but regardless, he seemed to focus on your victories rather this his failure.

As he began to blabber about how ‘buzzed’ he was that he’d get to see you play on the big screen, you just looked up at him with a smile on your face. Wondering how your kids would look like, because goddamn… you’re head over heels for this guy.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Just us

a/n: This is purely self indulgent because I saw Matt’s story and I’m so tired I will self comfort myself with this. Enjoy!

summery: You’re living with the boys and come back home after the longest day to find Matt in the studio. Watching him work had always been your favorite way to decompress. Being friends for years means it comes with extra perks, ones that make you question if you both are just friends after all.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were barely standing on your feet as you finally dragged yourself home. The day you had had been excruciatingly long and screw day, the past couple of weeks you had has been insane. It felt as if you had been up on your legs, doing something at every given moment. There was little sleep too and now you had reached the level of tiredness where even if you were exhausted at the end of the day you still couldn’t fall asleep.

The familiar buzzing of the house managed to pull a smile from you as you kicked off your shoes. There were perks of not living alone. Especially on these long days like this. You knew that you at least wouldn’t have to worry about feeding yourself. And some chores that you just couldn’t push yourself to do, someone else might handle. Plus, you got to come back to a place that didn’t suffocate you with loneliness. That was one of the reasons Noah had offered you a place in the house. You had been friends with them for years so you all were pretty good at reading each other without words. So when handling studies, apparent, and part-time jobs with Bad Omens got hard, they jumped in offering you a lifeline.

“Look who is back”, Jolly nodded your way with a smile. “Got you your kombucha so you can get out of my hair now”, you lowered the grocery bag onto the counter. Three sets of hands instantly move to rummage through it. “You are all toddlers”, you snorted. “You usually bring cool shit back”, Noah shrugged, turning over a yogurt box. “Yeah, snacks for my children”, you shook your head, hand running over your shoulders. “Pasta for dinner”, Jolly moved his hand to rub your back, you turned to him knowing that it was his way of asking if everything was fine. So you gave him the best smile you could master, “All in, extras cheese for all my troubles”, you bowed dramatically before moving towards the stairs.

With a deep sigh, you made your way up. Stopping to drop off your blazer and jeans in your room. Frowning slightly at the lack of hoodies in your drawers. Well, there were plenty of them just… not the ones that called your name. So with only an oversized shirt on your body, you once again ventured into the hallway. You knew that not many people understood that but the sound of heavy music blasting from the end of a hallway instantly made you feel better.

You knew that it had to be Matt there considering that you haven’t seen him downstairs. He hated being interrupted when he worked. It was called Matt Sound Kingdom for a reason. You knew that you shouldn’t bother him, especially now that they had been working so hard on creating new music and how easily an interruption could defuse inspiration, yet you still carefully pushed down onto the door handle, pushing the door ajar just slightly.

And here he sat, cap on his head. All windows shut only the mood lights he preferred on, even if you fussed about it not being good for his eyes. Leaning your head on the frame you let your gaze just linger there. You loved watching all of them fully submerged in their element but it was always something about Matt doing his thing, getting all bossy that got you the most. Some people thought he was standoffish or cold at times but you knew better. He was passionate and that sometimes came with the price.

“I made it into your daydream”, his voice startled you, making you bang your head onto the door slightly. “Jesus, Matt”, you hissed, pressing your palm onto the sore spot. “It wasn’t me snooping around”, he threw you a look before pushing his chair back slightly as he turned to you. With an eye roll, you stepped inside, closing the door behind you. Not missing the way Matt’s eyes lingered on your bare legs. His jaw flexed as he licked his lips.

“So, you haven’t seen my shirt, have you”, he mused, making you look down as well. “Well, it was out of service for you”, you shoot him an innocent smile, turning to pull a chair out for yourself. “Don’t need that, come here”, Matt patted his thigh but something about sitting down on his lap with just a shirt and thong made you halt. You two were close. Fuck that, you shared beds on multiple occasions and it was never awkward. He was a total black cat. Not too big on physical touch, only when he was overstated for it did he slip into your room for a cuddle.

“Matt”, you muttered in a warning tone. “Y/n”, he shot back instantly, “Come here, I can tell that it was a shit day”. That completely threw you for the loops and you instantly felt the burning sensation in your eyes. “It was fine”, you tried to make it sound truthful enough. But Matt just shook his head, leaning forward. One hand grabbed the back of your thigh as he pulled you closer to him. Leaving you no choice but to straddle him. Now buried deep in the crook of your neck, with his scent all over you, you couldn’t help but let out the deepest sigh. One that had been pressing on you all day long.

“That sounded rough, do you want to talk about it or nah”, Matt asked, kissing the side of your head. You simply shook your head, not mustering enough energy to give him a proper answer. “Fine, but we are talking about it at some point”, he pointed out, pulling your legs tighter around himself before scooting the chair closer to his sound tech. “You mind if I continue this for a bit?”, it was sweet that he asked, considering that you were the one interrupting him. So you shook your head again, letting the heavy sound slowly drown out all the thoughts in your head.

That’s how you both stayed. Completely losing sense of time. With you lazily twirling the ends of his hair while he worked. And Matt whose hand slipped up and down your thighs, as he nodded along to the sound. Or drumming his fingers over your lower back as he searched for the right beat. You pulled back slightly after a while, wanting that up-close privilege of watching him once again.

“What?”, he muttered, catching your gaze. You just smiled at him, “I love seeing you like this”, you mussed, reaching to put his cap backward, so it wasn’t so much over his face. “Like what?”, his fingers reached out to carefully brush away the loose strands of hair away from your eyes. “Just being you”, you shrugged, “I know not many people step their foot here. I know I have a free pass”. Matt chuckled slightly, “Who told you that?”, “This guy called Matt, he’s really sweet”, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Is that so, you like him?”, your heart skipped a beat because you doubted that he knew just how much you liked him. “Yeah, I do”, you muttered, watching him watch you. “He likes you too”, Matt hummed. “How would you know?”, you shook your head. “He told me too, we had a conversation about you”, his eyes slowly crept onto your lips before he pulled his gaze back up to meet your eyes.

“Matt”, you muttered, you two had tiptoed the line multiple times. But both of you had always put the band first. You knew that the rest of the boys wouldn’t mind but work and love in one mix nearly always ended in tragedy. “Can I do something stupid?”, he asked, fingers slipping to hold onto your hips, slowly reaching beneath the hem of your shirt. “Not if I do it first”, you breathed, cupping the back of his neck as you leaned forward, brushing your lips over his. He chased the kiss almost instantly, pushing deeper into you. It was equally slow and passionate as it was messy. You felt a shiver run down your back as the realization slowly hit you, making you pull back.

“Shit, sorry”, you grunted, trying to wriggle out of his hands only to have him firmly holding you down. “And where do you think you’re running now?”, Matt mussed, licking his lips. “Don’t do that”, you huffed, pushing his face further away from you. “Do what?”, he churched, “Look so fucking kissable”, you whined, making Matt let out a full deep laugh. “I’ve been dreaming about kissing you ever since that New Year’s kiss”, he admitted, making your shoulders droop slightly, “No, you have not”.

He shot you a look, “Love, I practically sleep in your bed every night after that, how else do you want me to show it to you”, while that was true you never took it as a sign of anything more than him wanting a cuddle. “Start by taking me on a date”, you pointed at his chest. “That can be arranged”, Matt mussed, leaning in to kiss your lips once more. “And others?”, you pulled back watching him. “Considering that you are here in my shirt with only a thong…”, he stared but you quickly hit his chest playfully, “They already know, I think we were the last ones to catch up. We don’t have to tell anyone anything, though”, he reassured you, hosing you high onto his thighs. “Just us”, you muttered. “That’s all that matters for now, baby - just us”, Matt kissed your temple before reaching to pull your head back, a smirk forming onto his face as his lips met your neck.

[mactavishsgfandwife]

141 and Their Embarrassing Childhood Haircuts (HC)

just a silly idea i had about what funny haircuts the 141 boys would have been given as children (that they would definitely find embarrassing) and how they’d react to you seeing it simon’s is a little sad (☹️) but mostly just silly fluff not proofread because it’s wayy too long (oops)

his aunt leaves the both of you alone in the sitting room, on her way to procure some tea for you all. on your own in the room with him, you begin to wander around and inspect the mementos that line the walls. your fingers trace a trail along the top of the bookshelf and over the filing cabinet, before you turn your attention to the collection of little family photos on the mantelpiece.

mostly, they’re photos of relatives you don’t recognise - wedding photos, holiday snaps, the compulsory photo of a toddler in a bubble bath - but right in the middle is a small blue picture frame, with little angels painted around it and, well, the photo inside…

you burst into a fit of giggles and his head turns from the random bowl he was closely inspecting, on the side table next to his seat, to you.

"what is it?" he grins as he looks up at you, amused.

but when you turn the picture frame to him so that he can see, that entertained chuckle turns into an audible groan…

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

i feel like simon was definitely that kid in class when you were about 6 who had a shaved head

like, a little boy with a buzzcut that was never allowed to be grown out

si probably got some judgement as a little kid for looking a bit ‘rough’ :( when in reality he was just a normal, sweet kid who liked batman and angel delight (this cheap pudding from the 70s that we have in england which you mix with milk to make a mousse kind of thing, it’s lowkey so good and it’s random but i swear simon would have loved angel delight as a kid)

i reckon his dad buzzed his hair and probably wasn’t very gentle about it

a photo of simon as a little kid, in his blue primary school uniform. he’s got no hair - well, as close to no hair as you can get without actually razoring it off. gappy teeth, a big smile and the beginnings of adult si’s strong nose. he’s pretty cute, and the photo is a little yellowed from age, with a little tear in the corner.

"oh, god…" he groans, finding the photo a little humorous, "don’t remind me."

"you look so cute!" you laugh softly, "how old were you here..?"

"pfft… probably about 6 or 7," he shrugs, seeming a little dismissive.

"have you ever not had a buzzcut?"

"you’re not seeing those photos, love," he laughs out loud, and stands up to take the photograph from you.

he goes to put the photo back, to bring the focus of the conversation to something else, but for a second you think you almost catch his thumb gently stroke the cheek of the little boy in the photo, a momentary sadness in his eyes. but that’s only for a moment, and as he places the frame back into its proper place, he grins and turns to you.

"what, y’think it’s a good look? reckon it’d suit you, we could match."

Captain John Price

bowl cut.

i just imagine price’s mum placing a literal bowl on his head and just cutting around it, as he sits on a stool in the kitchen

and he would have turned up to school the next day feeling like such a handsome little boy because his mum had told him how smart he looked 😭 bless

a photo of price, wearing his scouts uniform with pride, turned slightly to the side to display the ‘merseyside scouts’ patch on his sleeve and the union jack on his chest - but the star of the show was that ungodly bowl cut on his head. it was like something out of an old yearbook photo, and he looked very pleased with himself and all his scouts badges, despite the medieval squire-esque trim. it was funny, but he was also a really cute kid.

"ah," he chuckled, standing up to get a better look, "blimey, what a haircut…"

"i like it! i think you should go back to this, honey. it’s a good look."

"i’m not so sure about that," he teases, "but if you really want me to…"

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish

johnny is pretty energetic, i feel like he would definitely have cut his own hair as a kid - terrible fringes and very wonky moptops galore. and he definitely did it more than once.

imagine his mum is just making tea, having left him playing with some arts and crafts supplies. but when he runs in giggling, a pair of paper scissors in his hand, she screams and almost drops the saucepan. much to his amusement

"JOHNNY, DÈ RINN THU?!" (johnny, what have you done?!) as she chases him down the hallway to take the scissors away before he can do any more damage

it’s a photo of johnny, aged 5 or 6, beaming as he poses with the glasgow rangers goalkeeper allan mcgregor. you only know who he is because johnny’s mentioned once or twice before meeting the goalkeeper of some random scottish football team in 2002, as if he met brad pitt or the king of england.

at first, it looks like his hair was ruffled by the football player, but then you realise… it’s just cut like that? as johnny peeks over your shoulder, he laughs, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"oh, i remember! best day of my life at the time. until I met you, that is," he grins.

"i like the haircut," you tease, pointing to his uneven fringe in the photo, with random patches of long and short hair scattered throughout.

"oh, aye, i was a little hairdresser!"

"don’t quit your day job," you smirk, gently placing the photo frame back down on the mantlepiece. he laughs at the cheeky grin appearing on your face, and shakes his head,

"aww, y’don’t like it? thought girlfriends were supposed to be supportive, y’know."

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

honestly i wasn’t sure what to write for gaz, given i don’t think he would be rocking the literal bowl cut or walking around bald at 5 years old

but like every victim of curly hair ever (i can relate) i bet he got something stuck in his hair 😭 whether that was comb, or gum, or something really random (once i genuinely got a live snake stuck in my hair lmfao)

"kyle, look!" you laugh, beckoning him over to look at the photo you found. when he sees it, he lets out a groan…

"god, my scalp still hurts from that…" he laughs softly, rubbing his head as he looks at the photo of himself at 8 or so years old. with a superman action figure stuck in his hair. how did that happen? honestly, who knows. his eyes are a little red, and his cheeks are shiny from tears, but it seems like he’d cheered up by the time the photo was taken, giggling at himself with a big smile on his face, as his mum desperately tried to untangle the mess he’d gotten himself into.

"how do you even do that?" you grin, feeling his hand resting on your back, his thumb gently rubbing up and down your spine. he shrugs, with a laugh.

"i really don’t know. had to embrace baldness for a bit, but i think i was more upset that superman got thrown in the bin. that was the real tragedy."

"aww… i’ll buy you a new one, if you like," you tease, just as his aunt returns with the tea.

this. took. YEARS. to write. 😭 and it’s miles long. thanks for reading!

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hiiii! Happy spooky season. I have a request for wade Wilson with choosing couples costumes!!!!! 👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃 I'd love to see what u come up with!!

The Spirit of Wade

You sat at your desk, buried beneath a mountain of work. Papers, emails, spreadsheets—all of it had piled up over the last few weeks, and it felt like you were drowning. On top of that, Blind Al’s Halloween party was just around the corner, and you didn’t even have the time to think about costumes.

Your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a text from Wade.

Wadeykins:Babycakes, what’re we wearin’ to Al’s spooky bash?

You groaned, rubbing your temples. The last thing you had time for was a costume shopping spree.

You:I’m swamped with work, Wade. Can you go to Spirit Halloween and grab us something? I trust you.

The moment you hit send, you instantly regretted it. Trusting Wade with anything remotely important usually ended in chaos. But before you could follow up with any kind of instruction, a new text popped up.

Wadeykins:OMW to Spirit. Gonna make us the hottest couple at that party, babe.

You stared at the message for a long moment, then let out a resigned sigh. There was no going back now. Wade was on a mission, and you had work to finish. You figured you'd cross the "what did Wade do?" bridge when you got home.

By the time you got back to your apartment later that evening, your body was exhausted, and your brain felt like it had turned into mush from the day’s grind. All you wanted to do was change into something comfortable and forget about everything for a while. But the moment you opened the door, your heart sank as you were greeted by a sight that was equal parts adorable and terrifying.

Spread out across the living room floor were not one, not two, but ten matching couple costumes. Wade was in the center of it all, beaming like a proud toddler who’d just shown his parents his first macaroni art masterpiece.

“Welcome home, pumpkin muffin!” Wade greeted, jumping up from where he’d been sitting. His eyes twinkled mischievously beneath his mask. “I know you’re busy and all, so I took the liberty of providing options.”

You blinked, staring at the sea of costumes that now dominated your living room. “Wade… what… what is this?”

He clapped his hands together, rubbing them like a mad scientist about to unveil his latest invention. “Okay, okay, so check it out. Blind Al’s party is a big deal, right? We gotta be the it couple there. So I went ahead and got us ten different matching costumes. I know, I know, I’m basically a relationship genius.”

You were torn between exasperation and amusement, but the exhaustion from work melted away as Wade’s enthusiasm radiated through the room. With a sigh, you dropped your bag by the door and walked over to inspect his selections.

“Alright, what do we have here, then?” you asked, folding your arms.

Wade excitedly began showcasing each option, holding them up like a game show host showing off prizes.

“Couple number one!” Wade started, holding up two banana suits. “Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwich!” He held up a jar of peanut butter with a wide grin. “Get it? You’ll be the sweet banana, and I’ll be the chunky peanut butter. It’s a classic combo, like us! Everyone loves PB and B.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not bad, but let’s keep going.”

“Couple number two!” Wade swept his arm dramatically toward the next option. A pair of hospital gowns—complete with matching IV drips. “Doctor and Sexy Patient! Except... we’re both patients because it’s sexier that way. Plus, I already have practice wearing hospital gowns, thanks to the whole ‘mutated cancer mess.’”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “I think I’m gonna veto that one.”

“Fair, fair.” Wade shrugged. “Couple number three!” He held up a pair of inflatable T-rex costumes. “Dinosaur Power Couple! Imagine us stomping into the party in these bad boys. We’ll be unstoppable!”

“That sounds... sweaty.”

“Yeah, but think of the dramatic entrance!”

You chuckled. “Next.”

Wade dramatically threw his hands into the air and skipped to the next set. “Couple number four:Bob Ross and Happy Little Tree!” He waved around a giant paintbrush and an afro wig. “I’ll be Bob, you’ll be my masterpiece! I can paint you with compliments all night.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sweet, but no.”

Wade was undeterred. He spun toward another option, holding up matching black-and-white striped shirts. “Thieves in Love! We could go around the party, stealing snacks and hearts.”

You laughed. “Okay, that’s pretty cute.”

“Right? But wait, there’s more!” Wade dashed to the next set. “Ketchup and Mustard! Or Salt and Pepper! Or Burger and Fries!” Each matching pair was more ridiculous than the last, and each idea more absurd. You couldn’t stop laughing as Wade enthusiastically presented each costume, making over-the-top sales pitches for all of them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of couples costumes, Wade stopped in front of the last pair and turned to you with a grin that could only mean trouble.

“For the grand finale,” he said with a flourish, holding up a pair of cheesy superhero costumes that were definitely not part of any known franchise. “Super Wade and Super You! Capes included. We fight crime and bad party snacks.”

You rubbed your face, unable to stop smiling. “Wade… this is insane.”

He stepped closer, his eyes softening beneath the mask. “I know, but I wanted to give you choices. I know you’ve been working hard and you’ve been stressed. Figured I’d take some of the load off by going overboard with options. Plus, it gave me an excuse to flirt with you in a million different ways. Win-win.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Wade. Really.”

He cocked his head, a hint of shyness peeking through his bravado. “So… which one? Or should we go with my favorite?”

“And which one is that?”

Wade’s grin turned mischievous again. “I’m voting for Super Wade and Super You. ‘Cause let’s face it, babe, we’re already super together.”

You shook your head, but your smile never wavered. “Alright, fine. Super Wade and Super You it is.”

Wade let out an excited cheer, pumping his fist in the air before pulling you into a tight embrace. “We’re gonna be the sexiest, crime-fighting couple at that party, babe. Al won’t know what hit her.”

You laughed, leaning into him as he twirled you around. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible or impossibly charming?” Wade teased, dipping you dramatically.

“Maybe a bit of both.”

As you settled into the costume that night, you realized that, once again, Wade had managed to turn what could have been a stressful situation into something fun and ridiculous. And as you both headed out to Blind Al’s Halloween party, arms linked and capes trailing behind, you couldn’t help but think that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[littleadaline]

Once Upon A Time [P.G6]

Warnings: NOOOOONE [just fluff] Uncle!Gavi

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Took me 3 miserable days to figure out the ending but here she is! Enjoy 😽

———————————————————-

The house was awfully quiet. Putting your bag down in the entryway, you made your way to the living room. To your surprise, the tv was on, an unfinished game of FIFA left on pause. Your boyfriend’s slippers were next to the couch, a sign that he wasn’t far away.

“Gavi? I’m home!”, you called out but no response. Your heartbeat quickened, fearing the worst. Unsure, you made your way upstairs as silently as possibly. If Gavi felt like fooling around, you wanted to catch him in the act and save yourself the lame excuses. Entering your shared bedroom, you took notice of the mess that had replaced the neat room you had left in the morning. “What the fuck is going on?”, you said to yourself as an expression of confusion replace that of fury on your face. Perplexed by the events, but exhausted from your day, you began to undress, peeling off your work attire for a pair of Gavi’s sweater and a pair of worn-out sweatpants. A shuffle coming from the hallways made you stop halfway. 

“Gavi? Is that you?”. No sound was heard, aside from the buzzing of the AC, working overtime to keep up with the Barcelona weather. 

Having had enough of the mess, you grabbed your clothes and headed down to the laundry room, simply wanting to put away the eyesores that were the scattered clothes. Turning on the light in the laundry room, a small giggle came out of the hamper. Concerned, you grabbed the first item you could get your hands on, fearfully approaching the laundry basket. Peeling away the layers of clothes, your hand came in a contact with something soft… hair? 

“Joder! What the fuck!”, you yelled out in shock. As quickly as your hand retracted, the small figure of a child jumped out. The brunette-haired child stared at you; a grin as wide as the world highlighting her missing front tooth. “Beatriz! ¿Qué haces aquí?”, you asked the toddler, your heartbeat slowly getting back to normal. 

“Tia Y/N! You’re home! Uncle Gavi and I are playing hide and seek…. Shhh.”, she said, placing her chubby finger on your lips in an attempt to shut you up. 

“¿Beatriz? Where are you?” a man’s worried voice rang through the house. Soon enough, Gavi was running down the stairs to the laundry room, where he found the toddler in your arms. 

“Playing hide and seek, huh?”, you teased your boyfriend. 

“I… I euh, can explain!” He said, embarrassingly rubbing his head. 

“It’s because tío Gavi kept beating me at FIFA. He’s a bully.” Beatriz ratted out your boyfriend. 

“Alright missy, enough mischief for today. How about a quick nap before supper?” Gavi didn’t wait for Beatriz to answer, swiftly whisking her away upstairs for her afternoon nap. After untying her pigtails for maximum comfort while she slept, he quickly kissed her on the forehead before closing the door of your shared bedroom. Jogging back downstairs, he found you cleaning the remnants of their afternoon. 

“How was work?” He said kissing your temple. 

“Not bad! We met our new project leader today. She seems very… energetic, to say the least,” you said, sighing. “She’s invited the team for an introductory supper, next week or so. Please be my plus one! You know how I feel about work dinners.” You whined into his arms. Gavi chuckled. 

“Vale princesa, I will be your plus one. By the way, sorry I didn’t tell you that Beatriz was staying over. Aurora and Javi had a work emergency out of town, and Bee was already at daycare. I picked her up and brought her here.” Gavi said, snaking his arms around your waist and planting a kiss on your neck. 

With Beatriz napping, you and Gavi got started on supper. Pulling the final touches of the dish, you heard Gavi’s footsteps followed by the tiny patters of Beatriz. 

“Look who’s up! How did you sleep, princess?” You asked the toddler while placing her in her highchair. 

“Muy bien!” Her face still bared pillow marks, an indication of excellent sleep. Her hair, while still short, was fusing in any and all directions, making it resemble the mane of a lion. Pushing away the brown locks, you handed her her plate. 

“Blow on the food, Bee. Like this.” You showed the toddler before handing her the spoon. 

Supper went down smoothly, with the light chatter of Beatriz filling the room. Chuckling, you got off your chair to pick up the leftover dishes. 

“Let me.” Gavi stopped you, taking away the plates from you. “Bee needs help brushing her teeth. Can you please help her out? Aurora and Javi won’t make it for tonight. Traffic is too intense, so she’s sleeping here. “I’ll make you a cup of tea once you’re done.” He said, quickly kissing your lips. 

“Come on Beatriz, let’s go brush our teeth!” You grabbed your niece by her hand, slowly leading her upstairs. Kneeling down in front of the bathroom cabinet, you pulled out the basked you kept in the case Beatriz slept over. Shampoo, hairbrush, hair ties, toothbrush-. Content, you grabbed her Spider Man toothbrush before handing it to her. 

Downstairs, Gavi had finished cleaning up the dinner table, slowly putting away the now clean dishes. The cup of tea he had promised you was cooling off on the coffee table. 

Back in the bathroom, Beatriz engaged in chatter, something the entire family was used to. After she was done, you led her to the guest bedroom, where you handed her some pj’s you had kept from her last visit. Admiring Olaf on her robe, Beatriz rubbed her eyes, defeated by her need to sleep. 

“Come on Bee, we have time for a bedtime story. Why one would you like me to read?” You said shuffling through her books. 

“How did you and tío Gavi meet?” 

Taken aback, you put down the books on the nightstand and snuggled in. 

“Well, my oh my, let’s see if I remember correctly….” You giggled. “Vale, it was 5 years ago, we were both 19.” 

“This many?” Beatriz interrupted, showing you the numbers with her fingers. 

“Correct, Bee! Where was I? So, 5 years ago, I met your uncle through your mamá. We had a similar class during university, and one day, my bus was late. We had a presentation that morning, and your mom was so so stressed. Obviously, she didn’t take it well when told her I was gonna be late. So, she sent your tío to pick me up-“ 

“And it was love at first sight,” a man’s voice interrupted your tale. Gavi joined you on the bed, his arms around your shoulders. 

“No, it wasn’t,” you giggled. “We didn’t like each other at first, your uncle was a bit cold.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say cold, per say… more like, intimidated.” He reiterated. 

“Anyways, I forgot my phone in his car and Aurora gave him my address. He knocked while I was making dinner, and I ended up inviting him in. During dinner, a thunderstorm came over the city, and he spent the night at my place. We watched movies, had a mini party with music and my mini projector. Long story short, he asked me out a few weeks later after hanging out together during all our possible free time.” 

“Been in love with my nena since day one”, Gavi said, kissing you tenderly. 

“Ewwww” 

“Vale princesa, you’ve got daycare tomorrow and I’m driving you on my way to practice. So, it’s lights out and away we go.” Gavi said, kissing his niece’s head, followed by you. “Buenas noches princesa”. 

“Buenas noches.” Beatriz answered sleepily. 

[severalforraelee]

The Girls Part 11: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to si.com

Word count: 3,091

Written by raelee / Posted July 22

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

The Girls Masterlist

“Good job, Ada,” I compliment as she kicks the ball across the room, we watch as it bounces against the kitchen cabinet. “Nice job, Lucy.”

The blonde girl is the one to kick the ball this time, but it only rolls a few feet away. She huffs, tiny arms crossed over her chest as tears begin to fill her eyes.

“Okay, come here. Can you feel? What emotions can you feel?” I open my arms and she collapses into them, tiny sobs shaking her body as I rub her back comfortingly. “I thought I had at least two months until the terrible twos hit.”

A knock sounds at the door and I rise to my feet, Lucy still clutched in my arms.

“No,” Ada shouts, arms winding around my leg as she drops to her bottom.

“Really? How am I supposed to get to the door, you guys?” I whine. Ada giggles and Lucy sniffles.

I make it to the door in twice the amount of time that it would normally take, swinging it open to reveal Charles on the other side.

“Dada,” Ada hollers, hopping up to reach her hands up towards him.

He grins at her, pulling her up and into his arms as Lucy raises her head at her sister’s words, face lighting up at the sight of the familiar man. She reaches out for him as well and he pulls her into the crook of his other arm, stepping over the threshold into the apartment as I close the door behind him.

“You should really just give me a key to your apartment at this point,” Charles tells me, lightly throwing the two girls on the couch and sending them into a fit of giggles.

“What, you want a drawer, too?” I motion towards his backpack.

“Well, if you’re offering.”

I roll my eyes, throwing a few stray toys into the toy box.

“Why the red eyes, Lucy?” He traces the toddler’s puffy eyes with a frown.

“A little sisterly jealousy,” I explain. After glancing at the clock I add, “And tiredness.”

“Did you stay up after your bedtime just to see me?” Charles questions enthusiastically, tickling the two girls' bellies. They’re full of laughter tonight, because they think that was the funniest thing. “I think it’s time for bed now, then.”

“No,” Ada whines.

“You’re already up past your bedtime-”Lucy erupts into another set of tears, interrupting her dad.

He pauses, glancing at me to see my reaction. I raise my eyebrows at him. He knows what the action says.

If you’re the one responsible for having them stay up even later than they already are, you’re dealing with the bedtime routine and cranky tantrums tomorrow.

But, as always, he cracks.

“Okay, fine, one episode of Bluey wouldn’t hurt.”

~

“One episode of Bluey won’t hurt,” I mock Charles’ words.

He doesn’t respond, reaching forward to place the giraffe pacifier back inside Lucy’s mouth and the penguin pacifier back inside Ada’s mouth to soothe their cries. I can still see him roll his eyes out of the corner of my eye.

I even warned him this morning that we should have a lowkey day because of how late he let them stay up, but once I returned home from class he announced that he placed a reservation at a nearby ball pit so the girls could have a fun activity to do.

Charles checks us in for our reservation once we arrive, and as soon as we place Ada and Lucy in the ball pit, it’s like the tantrums that occurred not even an hour ago never occurred at all.

“Are you going to answer that?” Charles questions after my smart watch buzzes for the third time in a row, altering me to a text.

I already know that it’s Lando. We had that conversation last week in hopes of repairing our relationship, but it’s still a bit tense. I guess it hurts more than I care to admit that my family just cast me aside once I got pregnant, and that Lando remained oblivious to it all this entire time.

Sure, I didn’t tell him at the time, but I think it was noticeable by me missing from photos that they sent of weekly family dinners or texts in the group chat. It’s just difficult to move past the resurgence of bad memories.

“No,” I shake my head, watching as Lucy throws a red ball a foot away from her with a wide grin.

Now it’s Charles' watch that buzzes.

“Are you going to answer that?” I repeat his question.

“No,” he answers. “I want to enjoy this time with my three girls.”

I roll my eyes at his response, but look down to hide my blush.

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly because of how late they stayed up, the girls are tired out and fall asleep as soon as we put them in their stroller to head back to my apartment.

“Charles,” I pause on the sidewalk, watching as he pushes the stroller towards a looming apartment building. “What are you doing?”

“I have a friend that lives here,” he answers.

“But the girls are sleeping, we need to get them home before they wake up,” I remind him. They’re not the best sleepers in their stroller.

“It won’t take long, I promise,” he responds. I reluctantly follow him. It’s not like I have much choice, he does have our kids with him.

He smiles at the doorhop as we pass him, then the receptionist behind the front desk as we make our way towards the elevator. Of course he has a friend that lives in this building- it has amenities like a doorhop, receptionist, gym, spa, and pool by the signs plastered in the elevator, along with elegant chandeliers and marble floors.

To put it bluntly, it’s in the rich part of town, the area that Charles is familiar and comfortable with.

I, on the other hand, am completely uncomfortable by this. Although I was raised in a wealthy family, we were never taught to flaunt our wealth in such a public manner, like in the things that we own. We lived in a nice house in rural England and the thing that probably showed our money the most was the fact that Lando was karting.

Besides, family money is something that I haven’t experienced for years. Even before becoming pregnant with the girls and distancing myself from my family, I rarely let my family pay for my things. Of course, I let Lando pay for my tickets to the grand prixs, but that was mainly because I was working for him. And being away from Formula 1 for so many years, I sometimes forget how these guys are so used to a luxurious lifestyle.

The elevator doors open on one of the top floors and he pushes the stroller out and down the hall with confidence. I follow after him closely, not wanting to get caught in the hallway by anyone who might see us.

“Your friend gave you his key?” I question, confused as he presses the fob to the lock.

“Yeah,” he grins back at me, pushing the door open.

He steps inside the apartment and I follow close behind. We enter a small entryway, intricate detailing on the doorway welcoming us into a larger space. There’s an area straight ahead with big glass windows and doors that lead to a balcony, clearly meant for a living area. Between that area and the entryway is an empty space, for what I assume is a dining table. Off to the left is a decent sized kitchen with white cabinets and white marble countertops, a small island in front of stainless steel appliances.

“Did your friend just move in?” I ask, taking note of the obvious lack of furniture.

“Yeah. Why don’t you take a look around?”

“Take a look around your friend’s new apartment?” I raise my eyebrows at him skeptically.

“Yeah,” he shrugs.

I give him another look, trying to understand where this is coming from. Why would I want to look around his friend’s apartment? Of course I want to- it’s always fascinating to see how the other half lives, but why would Charles encourage me to?

I don’t argue with him on it, though, not wanting to start another fight.

I start on the right side of the apartment, finding a nice sized bedroom, full bathroom, and laundry room. Then I head to the left side of the apartment, finding two more nice sized bedrooms and another bathroom.

“It’s nice,” I comment once I rejoin Charles and the girls, looking around the main space of the apartment once again.

“Yeah, you think so?”

“Could do with more color,” I suggest.

“Well, you can add the color.”

I turn back to him in confusion, resting one hand on the handle of the stroller casually. “What do you mean?”

“You’re my friend!”

I pause, staring at him. “What?”

He stutters. “I mean, I bought this flat for you.”

My mouth gapes open a bit in surprise as I gaze at him. “Why did you do that?”

“Your apartment now is so small, and it’s not on the safe side of town,” he explains.

“I like it being so small,” I defend, “It makes it easier to hear and see Ada and Lucy, and I can get to them quickly. And, I don’t know why you and Lando keep saying that, I feel safe where I live.”

“There was just a murder in your neighborhood last week!”

“On the other side of the neighborhood!”

“You’re going to put your ego over the safety of you and our daughters?”

I stare at him in shock. “I’m putting our daughters’ well-being in front of my ego, if anything. Don’t you think I would love to stay in this apartment and show it off?”

Charles can’t help but crack a grin, knowing that’s incredibly unlike me.

“The girls love saying hello to our neighbors every day, they love walking down the street to the park, hell, they love sharing a room, Charles,” I motion to the three bedroom doors.

“And they can share a room here,” he responds.

“Then what is the third- oh.” I stare at him in confusion until my face blanks.

“Why ‘oh?’” He questions.

“Charles, we just talked about this,” I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest before looking off to the side.

“Talked about what?”

“We’re not having another baby.”

It’s quiet- which is understandable, I’m sure it’s hard for him to really get it through his head that I don’t want another baby right now- and it’s not just with him, it’s with anyone. Currently, the girls are more than enough for me to handle.

Although, I do think it’s weird that he is still pushing for another baby since that pregnancy scare caused an argument and more tension between us.

It remains quiet. Too quiet.

I look back over at him, expecting a shattered expression, just to see a smug smirk on his face. My annoyed expression deflates at the look on his face but I quickly put it back on, not wanting him to think he has the upperhand in this scenario.

I feel like I’m missing something.

“What?” I ask him.

“The third bedroom isn’t so that the girls can have separate rooms, or so that we can have another baby. The third bedroom is so that we can all live together. That way we can have separate rooms, so I can be with the girls all of the time while in London and have somewhere to keep my stuff,” he explains.

I feel all the blood in my face drain at his explanation, and embarrassment creeps throughout my body.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows at me suggestively.

I stare out the wall of windows at the bustling London street below, avoiding eye contact with Charles while feeling his gaze on the side of my face. I don’t respond, just wanting to get out of this humiliating situation.

“You want another baby?”

“No,” I whip my head towards him, narrowing my eyes. “You want another baby.”

“You’re the one who just brought it up,” he responds defensively.

“Yeah, because you just bought an apartment with three bedrooms after we had a pregnancy scare,” I roll my eyes.

“You know I’d have another baby whenever you’re ready,” he offers.

I don’t respond, instead rolling the stroller to the front door of the apartment.

“So I contacted a moving company and they can move you in as early as next week, they told me since you have such a small amount of stuff we can be moved in within a day and we can shop for the rest of the furniture together,” he says, following after me.

My feet stop in the hallway, causing Charles to almost run into my back. I turn around slowly to face him.

“What?”

“What about that did you not understand?” He wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion.

“What about what I said did you not understand?”

“Oh, I understood you alright,” he smirks at me.

I take a deep breath, fighting back the eyeroll. “I’m not moving into this apartment, Charles.”

“Why not?”

“Do we need to go through this again?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Clearly we do.”

“The girls are happy where they are now,” I assert.

“The girls are not even two years old, they don’t even know where they are half of the time.

“Charles,” I stare at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“You’re not even with them half of the time, how would you know that?”

I know that it’s a low blow, but my blood is boiling. I understand that he’s not here because of his job, one that he’s really passionate about, but it feels like when Charles wants something, he does whatever he wants to make it possible.

It used to be a character trait that I really admired about him. I loved watching him overtake on the track and advocate for certain strategies with his team, admiring all of the passion that he puts into everything he does.

But when you have kids, that personality trait has to be thrown out the window.

It’s no longer about what you want and what you think is best- it’s what’s best for the kids. And I know my kids, and although someday I’d like to move into a bigger place, while I’m in school and working and the girls are still young, it’s best to stay where we are.

“I could be with them more if we moved into this apartment,” he waves his arm, as if to make his point.

I can’t hide my eyeroll this time, turning around to push the stroller back to the elevator.

“No response?” Smugness sneaks into his tone.

“It’s not even worth a response,” I tell him, pressing the button to go down. “Tell your realtor that you changed your mind.”

“After hiding the existence of my daughters for almost two years, you can’t do this one thing for me?”

My feet whip me around to face him before I can control my movements, and I begin to speak before I can stop myself. “Are you serious?”

His jaw drops open, as if he can’t believe he said those words himself.

“We had this whole conversation before, Charles, and I thought we figured out how to get over it. And, you’re not going to try to guilt me into doing something that I don’t think is the best option for our daughters, that’s not how cooperating between us is going to work,” I protest. “I will put our daughters' well-being in front of your emotions, and my own, time and time again because that’s what you do as a parent. And I’ll do everything that I can to get along with you because of them as well, as difficult as that may be.”

I step inside the elevator, pulling the stroller with me. Charles just stands in the hallway, staring back at me with a blank expression.

“Are you coming? I need to press the button.”

~

Ada and Lucy begin to squeal at the familiar sight of Ms. Berry, the elderly neighbor who always gives them lollipops whenever she sees them.

“Oh, you sweet darlings, it’s been too long since I last saw you,” the woman coos, pulling a strawberry flavored lollipop and cotton candy flavored lollipop out of her purse. Like clockwork, Ada reaches for the strawberry one and Lucy reaches for the cotton candy one.

“And who is this young man?” Ms. Berry smiles at Charles who stands holding Lucy’s hand.

“This is Charles, the girls’ dad,” I inform her.

“I hope that means that I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

“Say thank you to Ms. Berry,” I instruct the girls, who say the words around a mouthful of sucker.

“Anytime, girls. You’re the highlight of my week.” “Who was that woman that we ran into in the hallway earlier?” Charles asks later at dinner.

“Oh, Ms. Berry?” I reach over to wipe the ketchup off of Ada’s face. “She lives a couple doors down. She loves to see Ada and Lucy.”

“I’ve just never seen her before.”

“It’s because you’re usually gone on the weekend when she returns from her daughter’s house in the country. She stays there during the week to take care of her grandchildren, that’s why she loves the girls so much.”

Charles is quiet after that.

I know that he’s thinking about the apartment that he bought for us to share without my permission. It’s been a couple of days since we visited and fought about it. From the way his gaze lingers on me and flits around the apartment, I can tell that he wants to apologize for making such a rash decision without me and expecting me to go along with it, then guilting me when I refused.

But for some reason, he refuses to apologize.

Whether it’s pride, still partially believing that he’s correct, or something else, I don’t know.

All I know is that I’m sick of fighting with him.

Despite the fact that we fight about literally everything, I’m ready to move on and get along with him for the sake of our daughters. But it seems like everytime we take a step forward, we take two steps back.

And I’m just wondering how much of this back and forth we can both take.

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[lifeofpriya]

from the youre blushing list ““You’re blushing.” “So are you.”” For jannik weekend. pls! Ur writing is so good and im so excited for a jan weekend bc i am lacking in content 😭

i had an itch to write a cute fic that involved a bookstore and i gave in 😩 ughhh, when can this happen to me too 😭

A Fumbling Confession

wc: 3.4k

You're standing in line at the local coffee shop, the aroma of freshly ground beans wrapping around you like a warm blanket. The barista calls out a name you don't recognize. You check your watch. Five minutes until your shift starts at the nearby bookstore. You're about to leave when the door swings open, letting in a gust of cold air and a familiar figure—Jannik Sinner.

Jannik is a regular, always ordering the same drink: a double shot of espresso with a splash of almond milk. His curly ginger hair is tucked under a blue beanie, and he's wearing a vintage sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to reveal lean but muscular forearms.

You feel a jolt of excitement and nerves in your stomach. You've had a crush on him for months, but the opportunity to talk beyond exchanging pleasantries has never arisen. You consider saying hello, but the words stick to the roof of your mouth like sugar to a toddler's fingers.

As Jannik approaches the counter, his eyes scan the room, landing on you for a brief moment. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a gesture so subtle it's almost imperceptible. Is it possible he recognizes you? The thought sends a wave of heat up your neck. You quickly look down, pretending to rummage through your bag for something to avoid eye contact, your heart hammering against your ribs.

The barista calls out your order, snapping you out of your trance. You step forward, reaching for your wallet, when you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turn to find Jannik holding out a steaming cup of coffee. "I got this," he says, his voice deep and comforting, the Italian accent rolling off his tongue like a melody.

Surprise lights up your eyes as you take the cup from him. "Thank you," you murmur, feeling the warmth of the ceramic mug seep into your palms. He nods, his smile widening. "It's the least I could do. You always seem to be in a rush when I come in here."

The barista glances between you both, a knowing look in their eyes. "You two are adorable," they say, winking before turning to prepare Jannik's drink.

You blush furiously, heat prickling across your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I just… I've never had anyone buy me anything before," you admit, taking a tentative sip of your preferred hot beverage.

Jannik chuckles, the sound resonating through the small space. "Well, I figured you could use a little pick-me-up before work." He leans against the counter, his gaze lingering on you. "So, what do you do?"

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I work at the bookstore down the street. I've seen you there a few times," you reply, hoping he doesn't notice the tremor in your voice.

Jannik's eyes widen slightly. "Really? I guess I should pay more attention to the people around me." He takes a sip of his espresso, the sound of the liquid hitting the porcelain cup echoing in the otherwise quiet shop. "I usually just get lost in the sports section."

The conversation flows naturally from there, a tapestry of shared interests and laughter. You learn that Jannik's love for books is just as intense as his passion for tennis. He talks about his favorite authors and the way specific stories have inspired him on and off the court. You share your favorite genres and the feeling of escaping into a good book after a long day.

As you both sip your drinks, you notice the time slipping away. The nerves in your stomach have transformed into a comforting buzz of excitement. You glance at the clock, realizing you're about to be late for your shift. "Thank you so much for the drink, but I really need to go," you say, the regret clear in your tone.

Jannik nods, his expression understanding. "No problem. Maybe we can do this again sometime?" His question hangs in the air, hopeful.

You feel your heart skip a beat. "Yeah, I'd like that," you reply, trying to sound casual despite the rush of emotions. He nods again, and you take a deep breath, mustering the courage to ask. "Do you want to come by the bookstore later? Maybe we can talk more?"

Jannik's smile reaches his eyes. "I'd love to," he says. "How about after my training session?" He glances at the clock behind the counter. "That's in a few hours. Does that work for you?"

You nod, trying to keep your cool. "Yeah, that's perfect."

The barista sets Jannik's drink on the counter, and he takes it with a grateful nod. "See you later," he says, and with a wave, he's out the door, leaving you with a coffee and a racing heart.

You down the rest of your drink, the warmth of the drink jolting you into action. You arrive at the bookstore just in time, the bell chiming as you enter. Your manager, Mrs. Higgins, gives you a knowing look. She's seen you like this before—flustered and a bit love-struck. She winks at you before turning her attention to a customer.

The hours tick by as you organize the shelves, your thoughts a whirlwind of anticipation. The bookstore is a second home to you, filled with the quiet whispers of pages turning and the occasional chime of the door. But today, it feels like a stage, every book a silent audience to the drama of your unspoken love.

As the clock approaches the time Jannik said he'd come by, you straighten your shirt, smoothing out any wrinkles. You pretend to be busy, but you can't help glancing at the door every few minutes. The bell jingles, and your heart skips a beat. But it's just a regular customer looking for the latest mystery novel.

Finally, the moment arrives. The door swings open, and there he is, his ginger curls peeking out from under the same blue beanie, his sweatshirt replaced with a fitted polo shirt that accentuates his athletic build. He looks around, and when his eyes meet yours, they light up with the same warmth as earlier. You feel a smile spread across your face, unbidden.

"Hey," Jannik says, approaching the counter. His cheeks are flushed from the cold outside, and his hands are slightly trembling from the chill. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

You shake your head, the books you were pretending to organize momentarily forgotten. "No, not at all. What can I help you with?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jannik steps closer, his gaze dropping to the name tag pinned to your shirt. "Just looking for some company," he says, a hint of mischief in his voice. "But I do need a book recommendation. Something to read on my off days, when I'm not breaking a sweat on the court."

You feel your cheeks warm at his words, and you try to play it cool. "Ah, I've got just the thing." You lead him through the aisles, discussing different authors and their works as you go. His eyes light up with every new title you suggest, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride in sharing your literary world with him.

As you reach the back of the store, you notice Mrs. Higgins watching you from the corner, a knowing smile on her face. She's always had a knack for spotting budding romances. You roll your eyes playfully and turn your attention back to Jannik, who's now engrossed in a novel you've been meaning to read.

"What's this one about?" he asks, holding up a book with a mysterious cover.

You lean over the counter, your hands resting on the cool surface. "It's a psychological thriller," you explain, "about a woman who discovers her entire life is a lie."

Jannik nods thoughtfully, his thumb tracing the spine of the book. "Sounds intense." He looks up, his eyes meeting yours. "But I like a good challenge."

You smile, feeling your heart race as you hand him the book. "I think you'll love it," you say, your voice slightly breathless. You can't help but wonder if he's referring to the book or the connection between you.

Jannik takes the book, his fingertips brushing against yours for a brief moment, sending an electric current up your arm. "Thank you," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll have to read it and let you know what I think."

The tension in the air is palpable, and you're acutely aware of every inch that separates you. You both stand there, unsure of what to say next, when a loud thud echoes through the store. You jump, startled, and Jannik laughs. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he says, holding up the book that slipped from his grasp.

You look down to see the book lying open on the floor, pages fluttering as if trying to tell a secret. You both lean down to pick it up, your hands colliding in a clumsy dance. You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within you, a sound you haven't heard in a while.

As you stand, the book still between your fingers, your eyes meet Jannik's. For a moment, the world seems to hold its breath.

"You're blushing." Jannik's voice is soft, teasing. You can feel the heat in your cheeks, and you know you're blushing harder than ever before. You look down, avoiding his gaze, your eyes catching the title of the book you're both holding.

"So are you." You reply, trying to sound nonchalant as you realize the truth in his words. You look up to find him studying you, his gaze intense. The silence stretches out between you, filled with the unspoken words you both want to say.

"I have to admit," Jannik says, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've had a bit of a crush on you for a while." The confession sends a rush of excitement through you, like a wildfire spreading from your chest to your fingertips. You look up at him, your eyes searching for any sign of insincerity. But all you find is honesty and vulnerability.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you just nod, unable to form coherent sentences. The book, now forgotten, lies between your palms, a silent witness to the moment unfolding.

Jannik's hand covers yours, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin. "I know this is probably a bad time and place, but I couldn't hold it in anymore," he says, his voice earnest. "I see the way you look at me, and I just had to tell you."

You nod again, your throat tight with a mix of emotions. "I…I've had a crush on you too," you finally manage to say. The words hang in the air, weightless yet heavy with meaning. Jannik's smile widens, and you feel your heart soar.

He gently takes the book from your grasp and sets it aside. "I've been hoping you felt the same way," he admits, his eyes searching yours. You can see the hope in them, the anticipation. "Every time I come into this store, I think about talking to you, getting to know you better."

You bite your bottom lip, trying to contain the smile threatening to split your face in two. "Really?"

Jannik nods, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. "Really."

The silence between you is now filled with the sweet anticipation of confessions long held back. You take a deep breath, feeling as though you're about to dive into the deep end of a pool. "Well, now that we've got that out of the way," you begin, "what do we do now?"

Jannik's smile turns into a grin. "How about dinner?" he suggests, his thumb still lightly caressing your hand. "I know a great place nearby that serves the best lasagna you've ever had."

The idea of dinner with Jannik sends a thrill through your body. "I'd love that," you say, trying to keep the excitement from overwhelming you.

He squeezes your hand gently, his eyes filled with relief and excitement. "Great," he says, the warmth of his palm sending shivers up your spine. "How about tomorrow night?"

You nod eagerly, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. "Tomorrow night is perfect," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jannik's grip on your hand tightens slightly. "It's a date, then," he says, his eyes sparkling. "I'll pick you up after your shift. Does that work for you?"

You nod, your stomach flipping at the thought of an actual date with the person you've been secretly pining for. "Yes, that's perfect." The rest of the afternoon at the bookstore feels like it's moving in slow motion as you both try to contain your excitement. The customers come and go, but your eyes keep straying back to Jannik, who's lost in a book a few aisles over, occasionally glancing up to catch your gaze.

Mrs. Higgins clears her throat, breaking the spell. "You know, you two could just go on your date now if you want," she says with a knowing smile. "I can manage the store for the last hour."

You glance at the clock. It's already closing time. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You've been so lost in your conversation with Jannik that you didn't even notice. "Really?" you ask, hopeful.

Mrs. Higgins nods, her eyes twinkling. "Go on. Have fun. I'll handle the closing."

Jannik looks up from his book, his expression a mix of surprise and delight. "Are you sure?" he asks, his gaze flicking between you and Mrs. Higgins.

"Yes, go," she insists, waving you off with a laugh. "You've earned it, and I'd love to see that smile on your face more often."

You exchange a look with Jannik, and in that moment, the unspoken tension between you snaps like a tightly drawn bow. Without another word, you both grab your coats and step out into the crisp evening air, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the cobblestone street.

Walking side by side, you feel a buzz of excitement that's been missing for so long. You can't help but steal glances at him, his profile sharp and defined in the fading light. You've imagined this moment countless times, but the reality is so much more than you ever dared to hope for.

Jannik notices your gaze and looks over at you, his cheeks flushing slightly. "What is it?" he asks, a smile playing on his lips.

You look away, feeling your own cheeks warm. "Nothing," you reply, a little too quickly. "I just… I'm happy, I guess."

Jannik laughs, a sound that sends your heart into a delightful flutter. "Me too," he says, his eyes shining. "I've been thinking about asking you out for ages, but I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same way."

You look up at him, feeling a rush of affection. "I've had the same fear," you admit. "But I'm so glad you did."

Jannik slides his hand into yours, and the simple gesture feels like the most natural thing in the world. Your heart skips a beat as your fingers interlock, his hand warm and strong. The cool evening air is a stark contrast to the warmth that spreads through you.

You walk down the cobblestone street, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the ancient buildings that line the way. The town is quiet, almost as if it's holding its breath, giving you two the space to share this moment in peace. You feel a giddiness bubbling up inside you, a feeling you thought was reserved for characters in the romance novels you secretly devour.

As you turn the corner, Jannik points out a small Italian restaurant, its windows steaming with the scent of garlic and tomato sauce. "This is the place," he says, his voice filled with excitement. The anticipation of the evening ahead has made you both hungry, and the thought of sharing a meal with him fills you with a warmth that has nothing to do with the food.

Inside, the restaurant is cozy, the walls adorned with family photos and vintage tennis memorabilia. The owner, a plump man with a thick mustache, greets Jannik like an old friend. "Jannik! Bene, bene!" he exclaims, enveloping him in a bear hug.

You stand aside, watching the interaction with a smile, feeling a swell of affection for this place that clearly holds a special place in Jannik's heart. The owner releases him and turns to you, his eyes twinkling. "And who is this lucky person you've brought with you?" he asks, his Italian accent thick and welcoming.

Jannik slides his hand around your waist, pulling you closer. "This is…" He pauses, looking at you for permission to reveal your relationship status. You nod, your cheeks still flushed from the confession at the bookstore. "This is my date," he says, pride and happiness resonating in his voice.

The owner's eyes widen in surprise before a broad smile stretches across his face. "Ah, a date!" He winks at you. "I'll give you the best table in the house." He leads you to a cozy corner booth, the candlelight flickering across the red-and-white checkered tablecloth. You sit down, your hands shaking slightly as you try to process the reality of what's happening.

The menu is a delightful assault on your senses, filled with dishes that sound like poetry and smell like home. You look up to find Jannik watching you, his gaze warm and affectionate. "I know it's a lot to choose from, but I promise, everything here is amazing," he says, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand.

You can't help but feel self-conscious under his scrutiny. "How do you decide?" you ask, your voice a little too high.

Jannik chuckles, the sound rich and deep. "It's easy," he says, leaning in closer. "You just have to trust your gut." He pauses, his eyes searching yours.

Your stomach flips, and you nod, trying to focus on the menu instead of the heat of his hand on yours. You decide on the lasagna, unable to resist the allure of the homemade pasta and the promise of a secret family recipe. Jannik orders the same, and the owner nods approvingly before disappearing into the kitchen.

The restaurant is a whirlwind of activity around you, but you're in a bubble; the only things that matter are the flicker of the candle between you and the sound of Jannik's voice. You talk about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing as easily as the wine he ordered. You learn about his love for the mountains, where he grew up, and how he finds peace there when the world of professional tennis gets too hectic.

As the plates of lasagna are set before you, you realize how much you've missed this: the simple act of sharing a meal with someone who gets you, who makes you feel seen. You take a bite, the cheese stretching like a warm embrace, the sauce a symphony of flavors that dance on your tongue. "This is incredible," you murmur, your eyes meeting Jannik's.

He smiles, pleased. "It's his nonna's recipe," he says, nodding to the owner. "A family secret."

You laugh, the sound light and airy. "It's definitely worth keeping," you say, taking another bite. The conversation ebbs and flows, the silence between you now a comfortable one filled with the promise of more to come.

As you both clean your plates, Jannik reaches across the table, taking your hand again. "There's something I need to tell you," he says, his voice serious. You look up, your heart racing. "I've never felt this way about someone before. It's like…like I've been playing on easy mode, and now the game has changed."

You swallow the last bite, the warmth of the lasagna forgotten. "What do you mean?"

Jannik takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I mean, you're…you're different. You make me feel things I've never felt before, and it's a bit overwhelming." He squeezes your hand gently. "But in the best way possible."

You smile, feeling your cheeks warm. "I know what you mean," you admit. "It's like I've been reading the same book over and over, and suddenly there's this new one that's got me hooked, you know?"

Jannik's eyes light up, understanding dawning on his face. "Exactly," he says, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "It's like finding a new author whose words just…resonate."

You nod, feeling a thrill run through you at his metaphor. "Yeah, like their words are just for you."

Jannik's smile turns into a grin. "Exactly." He takes a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving yours. "So, what do you say we write our own story together?"

[osirian-rises]

Jerome Centric House of Anubis Part One

Jerome was thirty pounds richer by science class, three more underclassman about to learn why they shouldn't have made deals with a Clarke. Alfie was busying himself with a vial of fake blood and a wadded up tissue while their teacher Mrs. Andrews droned on about their upcoming practice exam. His phone buzzed in his bag and he kicked it as if that would silence it. The only one who could be texting him right now was Poppy. Her last year at her current school had her all out of sorts, and they were only two weeks into their terms. She’d be going to Amun next year, unfortunately for him.

“Mrs. A?” Alfie raised his hand, placing the tissue up to his nose. Jerome pointed at it to draw her attention down. “Got a nosebleed. It's a gusher!”

“Infirmary quickly!” Mrs. Andrews beckoned, Alfie standing and racing for the door. The Principal Mr. Sweet cut him off with a warning, Alfie disappearing into the hallway before Mrs. Andrews or Mr. Sweet could notice his nose wasn’t actually bleeding.

“Joy, there’s someone in my office to see you.” Mr. Sweet said, holding open the door as she reluctantly got her stuff. Jerome watched her leave, eyes sharp. There was never anyone to see him in Mr. Sweets’ office.

Maybe he could pay someone to pretend to be a grieving Uncle or something, to get him out of an exam. He snickered at the idea. Alfie would go nuts for that.

Joy never came back from the office.

Patricia had asked around about her, but according to her ranting in the living room, Joy’s parents had removed her from the school. Alfie had immediately come up with some dumb conspiracy he was trying to sell Jerome on, that she’d actually been abducted by aliens or contracted a dark curse.

“So they’ve already got someone else in her bed?” Fabian spoke up, for a singular second looking up from his book. The new girl Patricia had been ranting about too. That was odd. What were the chances an open spot at the school would be filled on the same day? Especially by an American student as Patricia had described.

Alfie started going off about aliens again, Jerome playing alone to appease him.

“We were planning a Rom-Com box set marathon tonight.” Patricia insisted. “You know Joy’s obsession with Rom-Coms. How can she have gone just like that?”

“Patricia, you’ve disappeared more than enough times.” Jerome reminded cooly.

“She would have called me though!” Patricia repeated.

“Yeah, I know she would have.” Jerome agreed. Sometimes talking to Patricia felt like arguing with a brick wall, even if he wasn’t arguing. “But she hasn’t got her phone on and-”

All the overlapping conversation screeched to a halt as said new girl entered the living room. She had wavy light brown hair, and blue eyes. Nothing about her seemed malicious, or alien. Just poor timing then. Jerome rolled his eyes. Unfortunate for her. Not for anyone ready to watch another one of Patricia’s meltdowns.

“Hi! I’m Nina, I’m from America.” She said with an excited wave. Jerome’s eyes flickered over to Fabian who waved back with a quietly repeated hello. He stared at him, studying him suspiciously. Fabian had that stupid look on his face Alfie had when looking at Amber.

“Welcome space girl!” Alfie jumped up from the couch, continuing his bit from earlier while Nina stared in confusion. Jerome snickered as Trudy called for dinner. Patricia continued to interrogate Nina at the table, Amber disappearing to do who knows what. Likely looking for Mick. 

Alfie ate his pasta like a toddler, using two forks to shovel it into his mouth.

“Stop it Alfie, that’s disgusting!” Mara demanded, Jerome laughing at him. “And you’re probably going to choke on it.”

“But it’s delicious this way!” Alfie defended.

“Alfie, don’t play with your food.” Jerome scolded teasingly. He used his fork to launch some pasta at Alfie, who immediately retaliated. The two continued throwing food, Alfie getting thoroughly covered in sauce and noodles while all of his attempted throws at Jerome splattered on Nina, Patricia, and Fabian. Some even landed on Amber as she was walking back into the dining room, quick to back away in disgust.

Patricia grabbed the pitcher of water and poured it all into Nina’s lap. “Oops, sorry!” She said mockingly. Jerome laughed more as he was hit with a handful of salad. He’d predicted that would happen for sure, but on the first night was incredible.

Fabian immediately got up to play the hero, helping wipe the mess off Nina with napkins. Victor entered the dining room and shut down the continuing argument, Nina following him out as Jerome threw a singular noodle at Alfie.

After dinner Jerome and Alfie went back to their room, Alfie doing his best to bother Jerome while he finished up his homework. Jerome’s phone buzzed and he grabbed it. Another text from Poppy glowed on the screen.

“Alfie.” He said as he looked over at his roommate. “Can I have some privacy for a minute?”

“Why?” Alfie asked.

“Need to call…someone.” Jerome settled on. “Come on, surely you’ve thought up some scheme to drive someone crazy. What happened to replacing all Mara’s pens with exploding ones?”

“Haven’t shipped yet.” Alfie pursed his lips, then brightened. “Actually, I do have an idea! Thanks Jerome!” He raced out of the room, Jerome reluctantly dialing his sister.

“What is such a big emergency?” Jerome said tiredly. “If this is about mom-I told you to give it up with her-”

“No.” Poppy cut her brother off. “It’s not mom, it’s Janelle Garner.”

Jerome rolled his eyes. “Didn’t want to play dolls with you? Suck it up Pops, stop texting me when I’m in school.”

“She said-Oh forget it, I don’t know why I bother with you, Gerbil.” Poppy complained. “You’re useless, you know that?”

“Said what?” There was a pause. “Said what, Poppy?” Jerome demanded. “Spit it out.” 

“She said that dad left because I was an accident, and he wanted nothing to do with me.” Poppy admitted. “It’s not true, is it?”

“What are you talking about?” Jerome exclaimed, voice sharp. “Of course it’s not true.”

“Then why did he leave then?” Poppy asked. “Everyone in my school has both their parents and if they don’t, they know why one left. Parents don’t just disappear.”

“Yeah well, ours did.” Jerome said offhandedly. “Just drop it Pops, seriously. Neither of them are worth your time, and neither is Janelle…Do you remember how I told you how to use the printer in the library?”

“...Yeah?” Poppy said slowly. “Why?”

Jerome looked over at the door. He could hear Victor calling for lights out. “I have to go. Here’s what you do…”

Words: 1,131