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pucksandpower · 19 days ago

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Little Star

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

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

Based on this request

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

Happy birthday indeed.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”

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

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

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

“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:

No luck here either. What’s going on?

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

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

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

The responses come in rapid succession:

Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?

Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You ask, your voice small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Max?” You say softly.

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N,

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

Love,

Charles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel better?” He asks gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”

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

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

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

“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen. “Max ...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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fastandcarlos · 1 month ago

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Clingy : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: how does it feel to have the clingiest partner in the world? well, max verstappen can tell you

A hum of surprise came from Max as he felt your weight land in his lap, eyes flickering down as he watched you carefully. Your head settled against his shoulder, feeling Max’s arms wrap around your body, with his hands still holding on tightly to his controller.

A murmur of comfort immediately came from you making Max chuckle, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. Since he returned home Max had been busy gaming in his room, and soon enough you found yourself bored of having to spend your evening alone in your living room.

Whilst you didn’t mind Max relaxing and playing a game to try and calm down after his days, you did mind a little that he was doing it in a different room to you. After waiting to see if he’d appear for a while, you decided in the end you needed to take matters into your own hands.

“Don’t stop just for me,” you whispered across to him.

Max continued to play on his game, waiting until his character was killed before placing the controller down, his hands landing on your back. Max wasn’t blind to the fact that your hold was tighter on him than usual, making sure that you were as close to him as possible.

“It’s unlike you to come and disturb me like this,” Max chuckled, moving his hands up to brush through your hair. “Something happened?” He then questioned, only for your head to shake back across at him.

Your head tilted back as your eyes landed on Max’s, “I’ve just been missing you a bit and thought I could come and keep you company whilst you played some games. You’re not streaming tonight, are you?”

“I think it’s a bit late to ask that question,” he laughed, “but no, no one can see your clinginess.”

You shot a glare up at him as Max shifted in his seat, allowing himself to have a better hold of you. Max’s smile turned up as he noticed how your eyes narrowed, poking his finger against the tip of your nose, encouraging you to lay back down and rest on him again.

“It’s not my fault that you’re such a good person to cuddle,” you told Max, jabbing your hand against his chest. “If you were less irresistible than there would be less of a chance of me clinging to you right now. You already spend enough time away from me as it is anyway.”

“I can’t help the fact that I’m just so undeniably attractive,” Max smugly responded, knowing that your eyes were rolling without even having to look down at you. “And if you asked me, I’d spend every second of every day with you without anything getting in the way.”

Your smile turned up as Max spoke, a rare moment of honesty from him, allowing his heart to open up to you that he so often kept guarded and all to himself.

“I like making the most of the time that I have at home with you,” you then whispered, finding your own self opening up once again. “The time is so rare most of the time, I don’t think I actually want to share you with Formula 1 anymore, I might put a ban on it.”

“I don’t know what’s happened to you, but I’ve never known you to be as clingy as this,” Max joked, “usually you tell me that I smell and to get away from you.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” you laughed, “I guess you’re actually alright.”

“Alright?” Max gasped, shaking his head. “I guess if I’m only alright I’ll drop you so that I can go back to my game and you can go and entertain yourself.”

Max teasingly went to let go of your frame, only for you to tighten yours around him, refusing to be let go by Max. He roared with laughter as a gasp came from you, catching you just in time as you began to drop, not quite sure if you were going to land with a thud or not.

Once you were secure in his lap, Max leaned down and pressed several kisses against your face leaving you squirming and wriggling in his hold. You had no room to breathe as Max smothered you with love and affection, unable to wipe the smile off of his face.

“You know, I can be just as needy as you sometimes,” Max whispered into your ear as he pulled away, “this is how I’d actually like to spend all of my days with you.”

“I’d love to show this side of you to other people,” you responded, “the lovable version of Max.”

“Nope, he’s only for you,” Max smiled, pulling you back into his chest. “No one can know that I’m actually as soppy for you as you are for me, it’s forbidden.”

It was one of your favourite things about being with Max, how he was a completely different person with you then he was around others. No one else got to see the part of him that made you feel so incredibly loved, that was for you to enjoy and nobody else.

“Shall we stay here forever?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you smiled, “that would be fun.”

“Don’t tell anyone and see how long it takes them to find us,” Max laughed, tucking you even closer against his chest. “If we cuddle up close enough, maybe no one will even be able to find the two of us.”

“I think you might get a bit fed up of me clinging to you,” you tried to argue, only for Max’s head to shake back at you, even if it might seem that way at times, he absolutely could never get sick and annoyed by you.

“I love how needy you are,” Max suddenly told you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Do you know how nice it feels to know that I’ve got a partner who always wants to be around me? I’d be more upset if you didn’t want anything to do with me and didn’t care.”

“I just can’t get enough of you Verstappen.”

It scared you at times how head over heels you were for the man who held you, never imagining you’d fall so deep. But the way Max held you, spoke to you and looked after you had you finding yourself losing control so often, even after so many years together.

“I don’t think I need to be on the console tonight anyway,” Max whispered, resting his head against your own. “I think I’d much rather just stay right here and give my needy girlfriend what she wants, all the cuddles in the world.”

“Needy girlfriend?” You gasped, hitting against his chest again. “It must be hard work for you having a partner who can’t help but just be so utterly obsessed with you.”

“Not going to lie, it makes me feel incredibly smug sometimes.”

Your head shook as you heard the attitude in Max’s voice, thriving on all the attention that he got from you. “Please don’t tell me you brag to all the guys at work about how much I cling to you sometimes?”

Max’s momentary silence spoke volumes. “Can you blame me? I love making them all jealous, it’s one of my favourite things to do.”

“I think you might be as annoying as I am sometimes.”

“It’s not my fault you make me so happy,” he defended.

“And it’s not mine that you do the same for me too.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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dewdropdinosaur · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 8: Cockwarming

Summary: You had no idea how you ended up in this position, slotted so prettily on your husband's aching cock as he left you to fend for yourself in the search for friction. Maybe you could convince him otherwise. Warnings: Cockwarming, the reader has a vagina, mentions of genitalia, pet names, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @redvexillum Their writing is so scrumptious, I can't believe I am honored enough to exist in the same world as their masterpieces.

You could hardly stand it anymore, the teasing. How his smug smirk, nonchalant attention made your skin crawl in delicious ways that you wouldn’t dare to admit aloud. But he knew, you didn’t have to tell him. Your fingers dug into the plush velvet of your husband’s seat, weeping cunt slotted perfectly on his hard and angry cock. Hair disheveled, lips puffy and red from how hard his teeth had assulated them mere minutes ago…you couldn’t stand him anymore.

The green light illuminated the office, allowing the soft pitter-patter of rain to take on an eerie glow through the oval window. Cascading streams of water glistened, letting the green street lights shake and shift across the floor with each passing droplet. When you had visited your husband late into the night, the Eye of Zaun hard at work scanning over various papers, you had no idea what would occur. With a steaming cup of tea in your hand, the whisps of steam wafting off it in a comforting air that could soothe even the worriest of worriers. You had crossed the hardwood floor, placed it gently on his desk as you propped yourself up on the corner.

“Silco…it’s been hours.”

The world swam in that window’s green light, the hard maroon cushion,and those bi-colored eyes that penetrated your soul when he looked up to observe your form. Neither eye displayed much emotion to the untrained eye but after so long you could nearly tell what your husband was thinking. The orange eye held depths of a fire unknown and the loving rage of a thousand comets hurling towards each other with a fire too hot to be extinguished until they met. The blue, however, the crystal blue one showed the most restraint surprisingly. You were wearing more casual clothes, a button up white shirt and a pair of maroon suit pants. Nothing you would have deemed anything worth the heated and lustful gaze you were receiving.

“I know, my dear. But Zaun waits for no man.”

Filting around his chair, you sat in his lap, running your nimble fingers through the locks of his slicked back hair. Cooing softly as his head craned back in relaxation, you thought you had finally won him over for the night.

“My dear, if you keep that up I will have no choice but to indulge myself in what else that heavenly body of yours can offer me.”

Choking back a surpirsed gasp, a frantic blush coating your cheeks, you halted your movements. You had no idea what had warranted such a bold reaction from the Industrailist, but here it seems that you had done something.

That is how you ended up now, pussy full of cock, drooling onto the shoulder lining of Silco’s vest as he did nothing. Sliding slightly, attempting to get more friction, to feel him deeper inside you, his rough fingers came to grip your hips in a bruising manner.

“Shhh now pet. You did this to yourself, looking so delicatable while I work.” His breath was hot against the shell of your ear, one hand returning to scribble some notes down on the paper he was viewing while the other stayed on your hip. You let out a desperate whimper, grinding your hips down once more in a plea. Your nails dug into the fabric of his chair, tearing the material slightly. Growling into your ear that the friction you had caused, your husband roughly bucks his hips up into you.

“Behave yourself. I’ll treat you well soon enough love…”

Guess you were here for a while then.

#silco imagine #silco arcane #silco x reader #silco fanfic #arcane smut #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #silco smut #silco x reader smut #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #hornyposting #bd/sm kink #help me this fandom has a hold on my soul #arcane season 2 #arcane

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stevieschrodinger · 3 months ago

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Part One Seventeen

TW for biological functions I guess? In a fantasy setting? And brief mention of blood.

“Stee,” something nudges Steve, rocking him a little, and then there’s another, whispered but urgent, “Stee.”

Steve blinks the rest of the way awake, squinting in the morning light, “you okay?”

“No. Ow.”

Steve’s all the way alert immediately, “where? What’s wrong?”

Eddie takes Steve’s hand, pressing it real low on his tummy, “ow.”

“Oh,” Steve says, leaning over and pressing a little bit.

Eddie immediately seems to panic, dragging Steve’s hand away and shoving one of his own right up between his legs, pressing hard. He looks uncomfortable as fuck.

“Oh! Baby, do you need to pee?”

“Called pee?”

“I-it’s when- you know what never mind, just come with me.” Eddie comes with Steve into the bathroom, and Steve shuffles him over to the toilet, “you need to pull your pants down.”

Eddie looks at him uncertainly.

“Here, these,” Steve gives Eddie’s sleep pants a tug, and Eddie soon joins in on pulling them down. “Uhm,” Steve says intelligently, faced again with that slit between Eddie’s legs, “I didn’t...I guess you should sit?”

Steve guides Eddie down, and he perches on the toilet.

“Now just, relax I guess? Let it happen?”

“Stee,” Eddie says, plaintive and confused and clearly fucking uncomfortable.

Steve squats in front of his knees, which is so new it takes Steve by surprise all over again, and he rests a hand on Eddie’s brand new bare knee, just because he can. Just to feel it under his palm, smooth and...maybe there's a little stubble growing on Eddie's thigh. He uses his free hand to gently press at Eddie’s lower stomach.

Eddie yelps, grabbing Steve’s hand away, “ow ow ow ow ow,” Eddie’s bloodshot eyes water, and then there’s a splash and very loud and insistent stream of urine that goes on for quite some time. Eddie’s breath is shuddering throughout, his eyes squeeze closed and he grips Steve’s hand and shoulder desperately.

It’s finally done, and Eddie's left panting, “many ow. Many.”

“Uhm...it doesn’t usually, maybe because it was the first one? No ow next time?”

“Next time?” Eddie repeats, sounding distraught.

“Yeah, sorry baby. Pee a few times a day.”

“Called few?”

“Few...not many.”

Eddie sighs through his nose, kind of relieved by the news, “not many.”

“Just wait until you gotta’ poop.”

“Called poop?”

“I-it’s- you know what, lets just cross that bridge when we get there.”

When Eddie stands, pulling his pants back up, still a little uncertain on his feet, the toilet bowl looks like it’s full of blood. Steve drops the lid and flushes it away, trying desperately not to worry that Eddie’s kidneys are like, failing, or something. “Yeah, hopefully the next one will be okay, like with what you coughed up...you should probably drink plenty of water today.” It’s not like they can get Eddie to a doctor.

“Water,” Eddie repeats, “brush teeth?”

“Yeah baby, we can brush our teeth.”

Eddie does, standing next to Steve. Steve watches them both in the mirror, but Eddie appears to, mostly, be frowning at himself. Once he rinses, he touches where his eyebrows were, then runs a hand over the top of his head. “Different. No hair. No Eddidie.”

“Oh baby,” Steve reaches out, touching gently, “hey, there’s a little bit of stubble, here, feel,” Steve guides Eddie’s hand. The first sign of hair is so minute as to be not visible yet, but Steve can definitely feel it, “your hair will come back.”

“Tomorrow?” Eddie asks, more hopeful.

“No baby...it’ll take some time,” Eddie pouts, “but it will.”

By the time they get back to the bedroom, Eddie is pulling a face, “wet,” he tells Steve, pulling at the crotch of the sleep pants.

“Oh...right. I guess we’d better wipe next time, hang on, I’ll get you a clean pair.”

“Clean pair,” Eddie parrots back, sitting on the bed, all long flailing limbs. He struggles a little, getting tangled, but he doesn’t ask for help, so Steve just waits and watches; he’s going to have to get the hang of this at some point. “Breakfast food?”

“Sure thing.”

Eddie stands, and his pants immediately fall down. Eddie looks down at them, pooled around his ankles on the floor, “pull pants down.” Steve can’t help but laugh.

Eddie’s pouting, but Steve can tell it’s good humored, a little smile hidden underneath. Eddie hasn’t changed at all; still just happy to be involved. Happy that he’s made Steve laugh.

“Okay, lesson one I guess,” Steve goes and stands next to Eddie, “come on, you can get them.”

He’s awkward in his movements, and Steve stands close to make sure he doesn’t like, fall over and face plant or anything, but Eddie manages to bend and grab them, and then pull them back up, clutching at the material.

Steve pulls the drawstring cords tight for him, tying it securely, “all my stuff it going to be way too big for you.”

“Too big.”

Eddie sits on the stairs, and Steve waits half way down. He sits for a second, looking at Steve, thoughtful. And then he stands back up, both hands awkwardly gripping the rail, “oh boy,” Steve sighs, “okay, but carefully.”

“Carefully,” Eddie hovers a bare foot out, wobbling. It takes him a second to coordinate bending his knee, and his foot lands on the next step with a thump. Steve never really thought about how much easier up is than down, but it definitely is.

Eddie gets a rhythm going, still white knuckling the rail, but they get there, and he’s much more confident by the time he gets to the bottom.

Steve looks at the sad contents of his fridge and sighs. He’s not giving Eddie a cold bowl of cereal, he’s not doing it.

“Wait there,” he heads into the garage, rummaging through the freezer. He comes up with a couple of frozen pizzas, and prays he’s not setting a bad precedent with pizza for breakfast...but then it occurs to him what day it is, and he thinks fuck it, it is Christmas.

Steve gets both pizzas in, dealing with the pot of peas they had abandoned on the stove top last night.

Steve makes himself a coffee and Eddie another glass of water; Eddie looks at it mistrustfully, and Steve figures Eddie has already made the link between drinking and peeing, “you need to,” Steve tells him, pushing the glass closer.

Eddie sighs like a man going in front of the firing squad, but he does sip it.

“Pizza good good good,” Eddie says, licking his fingers clean of cheese grease.

“Yeah, I like it too. You done?”

“Done?”

“Finished?”

Eddie looks sad, “no yes,” and rubs his tummy.

“I get that,” Eddie has half his Pizza left, and Steve three slices of his, “but we can eat the rest later.”

Eddie perks up, “lunch?”

“Yeah, we can eat it at lunch time. You want to see what’s on TV?”

“TV.” Eddie stands up, determined. Steve watches; Eddie uses any furniture in reach, and then the wall, to make it to the kitchen doorway. He stands for a second, faced with the gulf between the doorway and the couch. Slowly, and a little uncertain, Eddie makes the trip.

He sits, and Steve watches it dawn on him that he needs to get back up again to turn on the TV. The sigh that comes out of Eddie is spectacular, but he gets up, and he does it.

Steve feels like he just watched Eddie sink a winning basket, or something.

Eddie’s fallen asleep again, Steve can feel it in how his breathing has evened, how his body is lax. They’d watched 'A Wonderful Life' this morning. Granted they missed the first little bit, and Steve is sure Eddie didn’t really follow the plot, but Steve just...couldn’t resist it.

Clarence earns his wings, Eddie got his legs.

Eddie had finished his pizza at lunch time, and had more water, but only because Steve bribed him with half a beer for afters. And then came Eddie’s second ever pee; almost clear this time, with maybe the faintest trace of pink. To say Steve was relieved is an understatement.

Steve figures he’s right, just like with the crap that came out of Eddie’s lungs, there must be some sort of trauma when it comes to using body parts that are brand spanking new.

Steve’s not really watching the TV any more; there’s another Christmas movie on, something about Prancer the reindeer. It makes nice background noise as Steve decides Eddie has the right idea and allows himself to doze.

He’s very nearly asleep when the phone rings, startling both Steve and Eddie awake.

Steve’s halfway up, Eddie flopping off him onto the couch when it hits Steve; he hasn’t told anyone. Shit.

He answers the phone, already half certain the it’s Robin, “Hello?”

“Hey,” it is Robin, “look, Steve, I know you said no and everything but I’m really worried about you, and it's Christmas so I really don’t think-”

Steve cuts her off, “Eddie’s fine. He’s here he-”

“What??!”

“Yeah, he, he came out of the pool last night. He’s like, completely fine.” Steve smiles as Eddie appears in the doorway, one hand resting on the wall.

“So he’s just- alright? Like, what happened then, why..?”

“Oh. Oh shit, no he has legs Rob!”

She squeaks down the phone, “legs!”

Eddie moves closer, careful steps that are already about a million times more confident than yesterdays, “called?”

“It’s Robin, you want to say hi?”

“Birdidie.”

Steve hands the phone over, watching as Eddie holds it to his ear, “hi Birdidie.”

Steve can hear the noise Robin makes, it’s so loud, Eddie completely startles, dropping and then fumbling the phone and nearly stumbling himself. Steve manages to grab Eddie by the tops on his arms to steady him, and then takes the phone back, he can vaguely hear Robin saying, “hello? Are you still there?”

“Sorry, Robs, you just scared him a little.”

“Okay, yeah, okay yeah that’s fair. Sorry. Can I come over? I should come over-” and Steve cannot blame her at all, but he does kind of wish their little bubble had lasted a tiny bit longer.

“Okay Robs, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yup yup Mom will drop me, I’ll bring left overs!”

Eddie sits with his legs pulled up, trying to tuck them under himself like he would his tail; it isn’t really working.

“Birdidie in?” He asks looking distinctly uncomfortable, plucking at the frayed edge at the bottom of his sweater.

“Yeah, Robin's coming to visit.” Eddie looks distinctly unhappy at the prospect. “What’s wrong? You don’t want Birdy?”

“Eddidie-” he starts and the stalls out, “Birdidie good bad.”

“Okay, can you tell me why?”

“No Eddidie,” he says, a hand going to the top of his head.

“Oh...you’re worried about you hair?” Eddie nods, “baby, no ones going to care.” Eddie just looks, if possible, even more downhearted, “but you care, don’t you?”

Eddie nods.

“Okay. Okay I can sort this, wait there.” Steve heads upstairs, raiding his mother’s wardrobe. It’s arranged by season and then occasion, so all of her ‘skiing’ – drinking too much in a lodge – outfits are all clumped together. Steve finds three hats, they’re all bobble hats and all distinctly feminine, but Steve takes them to show Eddie. On his way out, his eyes catch on the jewelry box.

All the rings in here are probably too small to fit Eddie properly, but Steve takes a plain silver band that might fit Eddie’s pinkie finger. He takes his haul back down stairs, kneeling in front of Eddie where he’s sitting on the couch.

Steve lays out the three hats across Eddie’s thighs, “okay, here we go, what do you think.”

“Called?”

“It’s a hat,” and then Steve commits a personal cardinal sin, he pulls one on to demonstrate.

Eddie seems to brighten as he understands, touching each one individually. He chooses the one Steve hoped he would, it’s the subtlest of all of them, black and white herringbone with a black edge and a grey faux fur pompom, which Eddie quite likes the softness of if his stroking is anything to go by. He pulls it on, smiling, “hat good.”

Steve reaches into his pocket, pulling out the little silver trinket he found, “and this.”

Eddie brightens again, touching the ring where it lays on Steve’s palm. He clearly wants to say something, his mouth opening and closing, but he doesn’t have the words. Eventually he points to the lights on the tree, opening and closing his hand to imitate the slow blinking of the lights.

“Those are lights...they're shiny,” Steve tilts his palm, the ring catching the light, “this is shiny.”

“Shiny...good.”

“Pretty”

“Called pretty?”

“Uhm...so if something looks...good. So if you like shiny lights,” Steve points, “or…” Steve struggles through Eddie’s known vocabulary, “trees, trees can be pretty.” He touches Eddie’s sweater, “blue, pretty blue.”

“Purple more good than blue,” Eddie informs him with some certainty, making Steve laugh.

“Okay, purple pretty,” Eddie nods, “so, you want this on,” Eddie gives his left hand over easily. His fingers are actually much slimmer than Steve had really anticipated, and the ring spins loosely on Eddie’s pinkie finger. Steve moves it to the one next door, where it fits well, snug against the last vestiges of Eddie’s webbing, “okay?”

Eddie leans forward to kiss Steve, “thank you Stee.”

Part Nineteen

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature

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l4ndonorizz · 2 months ago

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first date gone wrong / lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: videoclub - roi

summary: a chaotic first date with Lando Norris—from spilled wine to fire alarms—turns into an unforgettable night, proving that sometimes, disaster leads to the best moments

wc: 1.5k

You had been waiting for this night for what felt like forever. After months of playful banter, lingering looks, and not-so-subtle flirting, Lando had finally asked you out. When he suggested dinner at a trendy new restaurant in the heart of the city, your excitement had skyrocketed. You spent far too long getting ready, agonizing over what to wear, how to do your hair, and if your nerves were showing.

This was Lando Norris, after all. Charming, witty, and undeniably attractive—not to mention one of the most talented drivers in Formula 1. The thought of this date being a disaster hadn’t even crossed your mind.

But perfect was far from how things were turning out.

The first sign of disaster came when Lando texted you, telling you he was running late. Something about getting stuck in traffic after a last-minute sim session. Typical. Still, when he finally showed up, his sheepish grin and casual apology had you forgiving him instantly.

“Sorry, love. I swear, the city just conspires against me,” he said, pulling you into a quick hug before stepping back to give you a once-over. His eyes widened, clearly impressed. “You look...wow.”

Your cheeks heated at the compliment, but before you could respond, the maître d’ cleared his throat, reminding you both that you were, in fact, standing in the entrance of a fancy restaurant, blocking traffic.

Once seated, things seemed to fall into place. The restaurant was beautiful—dimly lit with a warm, inviting atmosphere. The soft glow of candlelight flickered between you, and the background noise of clinking glasses and murmured conversations created the perfect ambiance. Lando, dressed in a casual suit jacket and his signature charm, leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, clearly ready to dive into the night.

“So,” he said, flashing you a grin, “how have I managed to convince you to actually go out with me?”

You rolled your eyes, playing along. “Convince me? More like I was waiting for you to finally get a clue.”

Lando let out a bark of laughter, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Fair point. I guess I’m a bit slow off the line sometimes.”

The conversation flowed easily, as it always did with Lando. He made you laugh without even trying, and before you knew it, you were both swapping stories about your lives, joking about past experiences, and sharing little pieces of yourselves that you hadn’t before. It felt effortless—like you’d been doing this for ages.

That is, until the drinks arrived.

As the waiter set the glasses down, one of them tipped slightly, sending red wine spilling all over your lap. You gasped, pushing your chair back in shock as the cold liquid seeped into your clothes.

“Oh, no,” you muttered, trying to dab at your dress with a napkin.

Lando was instantly on his feet, grabbing napkins and doing his best to help. “I’m so sorry! I’ll—uh, I’ll get them to bring something else. Can we get some towels?” he called out to the waiter, who looked equally mortified.

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was a ridiculous situation—your carefully chosen outfit now stained with wine—but the way Lando was scrambling to fix things made it impossible to be upset. “Well, at least I didn’t wear white.”

Lando grinned, though his eyes were full of guilt. “I swear this never happens…except for that one time I spilled water all over my steering wheel during a stream.”

You chuckled. “You’re not exactly selling yourself here.”

“Stick around. I promise I get better,” he said with a wink, his teasing easing the tension.

Once the wine debacle was resolved, things seemed to settle again. The waiter brought fresh drinks, and you resumed your conversation, laughing about the incident. But as the evening continued, so did the mishaps.

Just as your food arrived, the fire alarm went off. You stared at each other in confusion, until one of the waiters rushed over, explaining that someone in the kitchen had overcooked a dish, and the smoke had set off the alarm. The entire restaurant had to be evacuated.

You and Lando found yourselves standing outside in the chilly night air, arms crossed as you waited for the chaos to die down. The sight of him, bundled up in his jacket with his hair slightly tousled from the wind, was somehow even more charming.

“Well,” Lando said with a wry smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is going well.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Is this part of your plan? To make this the most chaotic date ever?”

Lando grinned sheepishly. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

The restaurant staff eventually got the situation under control, and you were allowed back inside. Your food was still warm, surprisingly, and it looked delicious. For a few blissful moments, it seemed like things were back on track.

Until, of course, Lando knocked over his drink. Again.

The glass tumbled across the table, the contents spilling everywhere. You reached out instinctively, trying to catch it, but it was too late. The drink splashed onto the floor, and in a comedy of errors, the waiter—already flustered from the earlier fire alarm—slipped on the liquid, sending the rest of the meal crashing down with him.

You and Lando sat in stunned silence for a moment before both of you burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Well,” you managed between giggles, “at least the food didn’t end up in my lap this time.”

Lando leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m officially the worst date ever. Like, this is rock bottom.”

You wiped away a tear from laughing so hard and gave him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t know, I think this is pretty unforgettable.”

“Unforgettable in the worst possible way,” he groaned, though you could see the humor returning to his eyes. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you. How about a second date? One where we don’t destroy an entire restaurant?”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “Only if it ends with a McFlurry.”

Lando chuckled, nodding. “Deal.”

By the time you both finally finished the salvaged portions of your meal, the restaurant staff had given up on trying to maintain any semblance of order. You could feel the eyes of the other patrons on you, some clearly entertained by your evening’s chaos, while others just wanted you both out of there before another disaster struck.

When you left the restaurant, the air was cool and crisp, the city buzzing quietly around you. Lando reached for your hand as you walked down the street, his fingers lacing with yours as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“This is turning into the weirdest night,” you said with a laugh, glancing up at him.

He smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “I don’t know. I think it’s one of the best.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Even after everything that went wrong?”

Lando shrugged, his gaze softening. “Yeah. Because I’m with you.”

You rolled your eyes at the cheesiness of his comment, but your heart still skipped a beat. You had to admit—there was something charming about the whole mess of a night. It was chaotic, unpredictable, and far from perfect, but somehow, it felt like exactly what you both needed.

As you continued walking, the conversation turned light again, the easy rhythm between you returning as you joked about the disaster of a date. But there was an undercurrent now—something deeper that hadn’t been there before. The casual touches, the lingering glances—it all felt like more than just playful teasing now.

By the time you reached your car, the energy between you had shifted. Lando stopped, turning to face you, his hand still wrapped around yours.

“Thanks for not running away mid-date,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You smiled, stepping a little closer to him. “Hey, I like a bit of chaos. Keeps things interesting.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. The playful banter from earlier was gone, replaced by something heavier—something that made your heart race.

“I guess…chaos works for us,” Lando murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could respond, Lando closed the distance between you, his hand gently cupping the side of your face as he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But when you kissed him back, the hesitation disappeared, and the kiss deepened, warm and full of the unspoken feelings that had been building between you for months.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there, lost in the moment. His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily.

“Well,” Lando said with a breathless chuckle, “I’d say that was the best part of the night.”

You smiled, your heart still racing. “Yeah. I’d say it was worth all the chaos.”

#f1 fic #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris one shot #lando x reader

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0omillo0 · 17 days ago

Text

warnings: eating disorder, throwing up

angst ; comfort ;༊๋࣭

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You’d been quieter lately. Seungmin had noticed it first in small ways: the way you would lose yourself in thought during dinner, the lingering sadness in your eyes when you thought no one was looking, the way you seemed to avoid food altogether. He watched you tonight from across the table, his heart sinking as you pushed your meal around on your plate, barely touching it.

“Not hungry?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Your head snapped up, and you forced a small smile. “Oh, yeah… just not that hungry. It’s been a long day, I guess.”

He nodded, but a part of him didn’t believe you. You were always honest with him—except lately, there seemed to be something you couldn’t or wouldn’t say. He watched as you took a couple of bites, enough to satisfy his gaze before you put down your fork and excused yourself to your shared room.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean up,” Seungmin called after you, sighing when he heard the bedroom door close. As he collected the dishes, he glanced at yours: half-eaten, barely touched.

For the next few nights, it was the same pattern: you would pick at your food, make up an excuse, and disappear as soon as dinner was over. You’d come back with your eyes red-rimmed, like you’d been crying. Seungmin had so many questions swirling in his mind, but he was hesitant to push you.

One evening, after another half-eaten meal, he waited until you went to the bathroom before standing outside the door, listening. He hated himself for it, feeling like he was invading your privacy, but he was desperate. Then he heard it—the faint sound of you crying and the unmistakable sound of retching.

His heart clenched, and he forced himself to wait. When you emerged, looking drained and pale, he was there, standing in the hallway. You jumped, clearly surprised to see him.

“Seungmin? I—what are you doing?”

His expression was soft, his voice barely a whisper. “Are you… okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, looking away. “I… just needed some air.”

“Air?” He took a step closer, his voice laced with concern. “I heard you. I know you’ve been throwing up, and I don’t understand why. Can you please talk to me?”

The gentle plea in his voice broke you, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. You tried to wipe them away, embarrassed, but Seungmin caught your hands in his, pulling you close.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed your back soothingly, his other hand gently cradling the back of your head. “Hey, you don’t need to apologize. Just… help me understand. Please.”

You hesitated, pulling back slightly, but Seungmin’s gaze was so full of love and concern that it gave you the courage to speak.

“I just… I feel like I’m not enough,” you whispered, barely meeting his eyes. “I look at all these perfect girls on Instagram—models, influencers, all of them, and I just… I don’t look like that. I hate the way I look. I hate that I’m not…” Your voice trailed off, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over.

Seungmin’s face twisted in pain, his hands tightening around yours. “You think you’re not enough for me? Do you really believe that?”

“I just… I look at you, and you’re so perfect. You’re beautiful and talented, and I don’t know why you would even want someone like me,” you said, voice barely a whisper. “Every time I see those pictures, I just… I feel like I’m failing you. Like you deserve better.”

Seungmin’s face softened, and he pulled you closer, letting you rest your head on his chest. His voice was quiet but steady, filled with a kind of strength that you hadn’t realized you needed.

“I love you,” he whispered, his words firm. “I love you exactly as you are. You don’t have to look like anyone else or be anyone else for me. You’re already everything to me.”

You tried to respond, but the words were lost in a sob. He held you tightly, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you cried, his presence a balm to the raw wound of your insecurities.

After a few moments, he gently tilted your face up, looking into your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “I would have been here for you. I would have helped you.”

“I didn’t want to burden you,” you mumbled. “I thought… maybe I could fix it on my own.”

Seungmin sighed, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “You don’t have to do that alone. I’m here with you. We’re in this together, remember? I need you to let me in.”

You took a shaky breath, nodding. “I’m sorry… I know it sounds silly.”

“It doesn’t,” he said quickly, his tone fierce. “Nothing you feel is silly. Your feelings matter to me.”

You searched his eyes, finding only warmth and compassion. A new wave of emotion washed over you, but this time it was one of relief—a relief so profound it almost took your breath away.

“You mean that?” you whispered.

“Of course I do.” He took your hand, his fingers entwining with yours. “We’re a team, right? Whatever you’re going through, whatever you feel… I want to know about it. I want to be there for you.”

For the first time in weeks, a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I don’t deserve you.”

He let out a soft laugh, bringing your hand to his lips. “You deserve the world. And if you can’t see it, then I’ll just have to remind you every day until you do.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart swell, and you felt a warmth spread through you, like a light piercing through the dark cloud that had settled over you for so long. You squeezed his hand, a silent promise that you’d try—that you’d let him help you heal.

Over the next few days, Seungmin kept his promise. He was there for you every step of the way, watching you with that same gentle, steady love. He encouraged you, reminding you of all the things he adored about you, and slowly, you found yourself believing him.

It wasn’t an instant change; you still struggled. Some days were better than others, but Seungmin never wavered. And every time you started to doubt yourself, every time the old insecurities crept back, he was there, holding you, grounding you, reminding you of his love.

One evening, after a long day, you both sat on the couch, his arms wrapped around you as you leaned into his warmth. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“For what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“For… for being here. For understanding.”

He hugged you tighter, his voice soft and comforting. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. And I’ll keep reminding you every day, as many times as you need, how much I love you.”

You looked up at him, your heart full, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of peace—a peace that came from knowing you were truly loved, just as you were.

tag list : @intartaruginha @hannamoon143

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krirebr · 5 months ago

Text

More Than This 7

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~3.9k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, fighting, my own rampant abuse of italics and em dashes, non-stop continuous action (not the car chase kind, but like, the no section breaks kind), the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: There's no going back now.

Permanent thanks, as always, to @paperweight91 who lets me talk her ear off about this and always has the best input.

I cannot wait to talk to you all about this one, so please leave me a comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think! And if you need to come scream at me, that's even better!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You woke up to the sun streaming in through the windows. You rolled over and checked the time. It was after nine. You’d slept hard—the exhaustion of everything catching up with you. And yet you still hadn’t woken up feeling rested. You couldn’t remember the last time you did.

You grabbed your phone and groaned when you saw all the notifications. Texts, missed calls, two voicemails. All from Steve. He was freaking out.

Are you ok?

Did something happen?

Please call me

And a few more just like them. You were too tired to answer. You didn’t know how. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t ignored your messages before. You grimaced at your own pettiness. You would answer him when you knew what to say.

As soon as Lola noticed you were awake, she hopped off your makeshift bed and ran to the door, scratching at it to be let out. You sighed. Of course, the safety of your isolation couldn’t last forever. The good news was that it was late enough that Ransom must be gone. You could put that off at least until the evening.

When you opened the door, Lola at your heels, you heard someone moving around downstairs. You hadn’t thought it was a Carol day, but you must’ve lost track. It wasn’t until you were halfway down the stairs that you saw Ransom puttering around in the kitchen, his back to you. Your stomach dropped. Shit shit shit. Why was he here? You contemplated running back into the gym, but as soon as she saw him, Lola darted out ahead of you and raced down the stairs so she could dance around at his feet. He crouched down to greet her. “Morning, Lola,” he rumbled, his voice still full of sleep. “D’you have a good night?” She hopped up and down, pawing at his leg.

You took a deep breath and gathered all of your courage. “She wants breakfast,” you said from your place on the stairs.

His head whipped up to you. He stood up awkwardly. “Oh, uh, where’s her food?”

You came down the rest of the stairs and passed in front of him into the kitchen. “I’ll do it,” you said as you went straight to the cabinet where you kept Lola’s meal supplies.

Once you had her fed and briefly let her out the back door, you noticed multiple bags of take-out on the island. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, uh,” Ransom rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at you. “I thought we should probably have breakfast. Together. And I didn’t really know what you like, so…” he shrugged.

You quickly took stock of the food. There were diner waffles, pastries from a bakery, eggs benedict from a fancy brunch place. “Thank you,” you said. “That’s nice.” You grabbed a danish from the pastry bag and sat down at the island. “I, uh–” you started then stopped, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I freaked out last night. I, uh– I don’t know what happened. I– I was scared, I guess, by the–” you gestured to your stomach. “But um, I shouldn’t’ve– It won’t happen again, you know? I’m fine now. Everything’s fine.”

Ransom leaned against the counter, facing you, and closed his eyes. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then looked you straight in the eyes and said, “I’m so fucking tired of that word.”

You set down your pastry and looked at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re always so fucking fine, aren’t you? I ask how your day was, it was fine. I ask how you feel about something, it’s fine. I ask what’s wrong when you’re clearly upset, and you say, ‘Oh nothing, everything’s fine.’ It’s fine! It’s fine! It’s fine! I can’t hear it one more time.”

All you could do was sputter for a moment. “What– What are you talking about?! I’ve just been doing what you wanted!”

“How is this what I wanted?” he asked, his frustration shocking you..

But then, your mind started to catch up a bit and you were suddenly filled with indignation. “You told me to pack light! You– You– You made it clear! I know you don’t want me here so I’m just– I’m just trying to do what you want! I'm staying out of your way!”

He laughed and the hollow sound was so startling. “This is you staying out of my way? You’re just this presence that’s always here! That makes me feel unwelcome in my own home!”

That had you standing up so quickly that it sent the stool you’d been on tumbling to the floor behind you. A frightened Lola scampered up the stairs, her collar tinkling sharply, but neither of you noticed.

“What?!” you shouted, “How could– I– This is your house! How could you ever feel unwelcome here? I’ve never felt welcome here for even a moment! I’m not even a guest here, I’m just this, this– I don’t know! I’m just this pest that you wish you could exterminate but you can’t. You don’t want me here and I feel it every single day.”

“Well, you’ve never told me that, have you?” He almost growled out. “I’m just supposed to know! I see you making this list in your head of everything I’m doing wrong, all the ways I’m disappointing you but you never say anything about any of it. But then when I don’t know how to fix any of it, because I don’t actually know what’s wrong, you resent me for it!” You started to open your mouth and he slammed a hand down on the island between you. “Don’t deny it. I can see it whenever you look at me. You’ve decided that I’m the villain here, right? I’m the bad guy in this story. And I don’t–” He moved his hands to his hips and looked away from you, shaking his head. “I have no idea who you are,” he said, quieter now but no less forceful. “You don’t want me to. You have me just grasping at straws and– But you’ve just decided, huh? That you know exactly who I am.”

All you could do for a full fifteen seconds was just gape at him. He looked tired suddenly. Sad, as if that made any sense at all with anything that had happened. But then you remembered everything that had happened and your anger came flooding back. “Yes, I know who you are. Of course, I do! Because you showed me! It’s like you’ve completely forgotten how we met. Or our wedding!” A tear fell down your cheek and you knew more were about to follow, ready to tip over your lashes. You wanted to wipe them away, but you also just couldn’t take the time to stop right now. “You were awful! Really fucking awful. Right from the beginning you were so cruel and– and now– No! I– How can you expect me to come to you with anything when you all but told me not to during that first dinner?! When you told me you didn’t want me taking up any space here? Or that you would get rid of Lola?! Of course I don’t talk to you! What am I supposed to talk to you about when you terrify me? When everything I have comes from you and you don’t give me anything? When you hold all of the power?!”

“What fucking power?” Ransom shouted, throwing his arms wide. “If I had any power at all, neither of us would be in this mess!”

“It’s still more than I have! I have nothing! You’re the heir. You matter to people. I’ve only ever been a bargaining chip. And now that they’ve made the deal, no one gives a shit what happens to me. You could do anything to me, and they wouldn’t care! Even my mom–” You cut yourself off, tears choking your voice.

There was a beat of silence, and then, “Even your mom what?” Ransom asked, his voice rough. He was staring at you like the next words out of your mouth would be the most important ever spoken.

And it was only because you felt it too, everything riding on this, that you managed to say, your voice so small and your eyes downcast, “She only ever asks if I’m making you happy.”

When he didn’t say anything to that, you looked back up to find him staring at you, his eyes incredibly serious. But not angry, something– something else. Finally, he sighed and, putting both elbows on the island, said, “I’m really fucking miserable. How ‘bout you?”

You would try to examine it later, the way your instinct in that moment was to apologize or try to downplay your own feelings, your mom’s voice in your head no matter how much you hated it, but instead you took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, I’m– I’ve been so unhappy.”

He nodded then scrubbed a hand over his face. “I think,” he said slowly. “I think we’ve both been acting like if we just ignore this hard enough we’ll wake up one day and this will be over and our lives will go back to normal. But now with the–,” he gestured to you. “We can’t keep doing that. We gotta– We have to figure out a way to live with this.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, wrapping one arm around your stomach. You couldn’t help but look at him a little warily. Was this real? Did he mean it? “How do we do that?”

He chuckled ruefully. “I don’t know.”

You just looked at him for a moment before you were interrupted by your stomach growling loudly. “Sorry,” you said, awkwardly. “I didn’t eat much last night.”

“Right,” he said with a decisive nod, “breakfast.”

You each served yourselves from all the food he’d ordered. He righted the stool you knocked over and you both sat down to eat. You didn’t say anything, neither of you did. You figured he had just as much to think about as you did.

You couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d said he had no idea who you were. It’d been easy, maybe, to forget that this was something that had happened to both of you, when you were in his house, facing his family, working your way into his life. It’d never occurred to you, after that first meeting, that he might want to get to know you, might want to see past all the walls you’d put up to protect yourself. But you felt like they were fortified now. You weren’t sure how to take them down.

Even though you kept your focus on your food, you could tell he kept glancing at you. You felt his eyes on you every few minutes. Finally, as you both finished up your food, he cleared his throat. “I’m an asshole,” he said quietly. “I just am. I always have been. But uh, you didn’t– You didn’t deserve that at dinner. Or the wedding. Or when I yelled at you last night. It didn’t– I don’t think it occurred to me that you’d take me, what I said, seriously. I’m not used to people listening to me, not like that.”

You stared at your plate for a moment and tried to keep breathing. “I– Of course, I took you seriously. What else would I do? I didn’t know you and I was already so scared and– How was I supposed to know you didn’t mean it?” You could feel yourself starting to cry again and wiped furiously at your eyes.

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, I– I didn’t do a good job of understanding how hard this was for you. And I– I’ll try not to do that again.”

All you could do with that was nod.

“But uh– I need you to talk to me, tell me when something’s wrong. I can’t– I need you to talk to me. I’ll, uh, I won’t be mad or– I feel like the few times you’ve let yourself be upset, those are the only times I felt like I could actually see you. I want to be able to see you.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m uh,” you started, trying to find your words. “I’m used to having to put on a mask. It’s really hard for me to not do that.”

He nodded slowly. “How ‘bout,” he said, “I’ll try to be less of an asshole if you try to let yourself be more of one?”

You laughed. You couldn’t help it, it just bubbled out of you, to your own surprise. “Sure,” you smiled, “yeah. Deal.” You met his eyes and he looked proud of himself. There was something about the way he was looking at you that made you have to look away. You put all your attention into taking a last bite of your food.

“So,” he said, and he sounded serious again. “I think we should talk about last night.”

It took everything in you to not shrink down. You wanted to do anything else, but he was right. You needed to. So you nodded and waited for him to start.

“You said– Well. You said a lot of things. But let’s start with– You said I keep you trapped here.”

Your brow furrowed a little bit. “Well, yeah, you only have one car and you don’t have a driver. How am I supposed to go anywhere?”

The dawning realization on his face would have almost been comical if it had been about something that hadn’t caused you so much pain. “Oh my god,” he said. “I– Why didn’t you– No, right. Yeah.” He took out his phone and started typing. “I’ll figure something out. Do you drive?”

“Steve taught me, a little, when I was a teenager. But I’m not– I’m not super comfortable,” you shrugged.

“Ok,” he said typing a few more words, then put his phone down. He looked at you very seriously and said, “Now I need you to tell me exactly what you meant about siccing my mom on you.”

“Oh, well, just that she came over, you know, the next day after I told you I wanted to find a job.”

Ransom’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Here? She came here?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, not entirely sure what was happening. “She let herself in and said you’d talked to her about how I wanted to work and that you wanted me to focus on giving you a family. That that was my job now.”

Ransom’s face darkened in a way you’d never seen before. “Fucking–” he growled. “Goddamnit.” You watched him warily and when he made eye contact, you saw the way he worked to soften his expression. He shook his head. “I never said that. I just, I brought it up to her because she has connections, you know, in surprising places. I should have known. I was stupid. And when you didn’t bring it up again, I just, I assumed it hadn’t worked out and you didn’t want to talk about it.” He took a deep breath, clearly trying to make himself calm down. “Did she say anything else?”

You looked at him carefully. It was almost like he looked different today, something about him. It really did seem like he was trying. So you took a breath and decided to trust him. “She wasn’t very nice to me. She never is. She’s– She’s only ever been awful to me.”

“Yeah,” he said grimly, “that’s fucking Linda. Alright, she comes here again, I want you to tell me. Don’t even talk to her, just call me right away. She tries to call you, you tell me. She ever says anything to you, you tell me, ok?”

“Yeah,” you said, and you didn’t know how to guard yourself from the warmth that spread through you. “I’ll tell you.”

He nodded. “Good. And if you still want to get a job, I’ll help you, ok? I want to do that.”

“Yeah, I,” you sighed, “I don’t know. Everything’s really overwhelming right now.”

“I get that,” he said, “but if you change your mind, let me know.”

“I will,” you promised. Then, when he didn’t immediately bring up another topic from the night before, you raised one of your own. “Um, you never use your gym.” He looked at you, confused, and you shook your head at yourself. “Sorry, it’s just, you have all those rooms upstairs that you never use, and well, you and I,” you rested a hand on your belly, “we did what we needed to do, right? So, uh, I’m having my bedroom furniture shipped here and if it’s alright, I’d like to, uh, turn that room into my room.”

There was a long pause, long enough for you to get uncomfortable, start to worry that you’d messed up. His face was blank, you couldn’t find any clues there. Then, finally, he seemed to shake himself and said, “Yeah, sure, of course. I’ll, uh, I’ll have it cleared out for you.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Great! Thank you! I’m sure you’ll be happy to have your own space back.”

“Right, yeah,” he said and nodded several times. “Yeah.”

You both got quiet again after that, but it didn’t feel as oppressive as it often had before. Eventually, you began cleaning up breakfast together. As you moved around him in the kitchen to load the dishwasher, you paused. “Hey, uh, what’d you tell your parents? About last night, dinner?”

“Oh,” he said, turning to you from the fridge. “Just that I was suddenly violently ill and we couldn’t make it.”

That stopped you completely. You’d been bent over as you loaded plates, but now you stood up, giving him all of your attention. “Really? You didn’t– didn’t blame me? Or uh, tell them about–”

He finished what he was doing and closed the fridge, then closed some of the space between you. “What? No, fuck that. Listen, any excuse to not have to deal with Richard and Linda is welcome. I’m serious. Fuck them.”

That was when everything really hit you, just how badly you'd misread so much of what had happened. Of all the pain you’d suffered over the past months, how much of it had been self-inflicted? Would everything have been so much easier, for both of you, if you’d just been willing to talk to him? For what felt like the thousandth time that morning, you felt your eyes beginning to well. You tried to turn your head away, but Ransom noticed before you could.

“Hey,” Ransom said quietly as he approached you cautiously, stopping right in front of you, his hands hovering in the air between you both. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know,” you said, your voice tight. “I don’t know. I just– Everything’s just been so hard.”

Ransom sighed, heavily. “Yeah. I know.”

“Um,” you let out a defeated, embarrassed little laugh as the tears began to fall down your face. “Do you think it’s too early to blame pregnancy hormones?” you asked, as you tried to make yourself stop crying.

Instead of dismissing it as a joke, Ransom looked at you very seriously. “I think that you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

There was something about that, the way it felt like acceptance, that made the tears come even harder.

It was then, of course, that your phone started vibrating on the counter, Steve’s ID flashing on the screen. “Oh,” you said, “um, shit.” You just stared at it, not quite able to pick it up. “I, uh, texted him last night. During everything. I’m sure he’s freaking out now.”

“Right,” Ransom nodded. “Well, I’ll give you some privacy.”

You were suddenly filled with the ridiculous need to not be alone right now. “Uh, yeah, thanks. But, uh, maybe, maybe don’t go far.” Your voice dropped out a little at the end of the sentence, embarrassed.

He looked at you carefully and you couldn’t imagine what he saw. A mess, probably. “Yeah,” he said, “of course. I’ll be just upstairs. Shout if you need me.”

Then he left and you took a deep breath. The call had gone to voicemail while you’d dithered, so you called Steve back, sure he’d try again anyway if you delayed any further.

He picked up immediately. “Oh thank god,” he breathed. “What’s going on? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just–” you began, trying to keep your voice strong. But of course, you couldn’t hide from Steve.

“Are you crying?” he asked gruffly. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not, Steve,” you lied.

“Chipmunk,” he said, sadly, knowing how hard the childhood nickname would hit you. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You closed your eyes as tightly as you could. “Nothing. It’s just–” You knew you had to tell him something but you had no idea where to start. You could tell him, you supposed, about– about the baby, but it felt impossible to say out loud. And you had no idea how he’d react. Or, rather you had a very good idea, and it was very, very bad. You didn’t have the energy for that. Or the strength and courage. Not now. Maybe not ever. But you couldn’t talk about what happened the night before and this morning without mentioning that part, so really, you couldn’t talk about anything. And you knew your brother. You knew how that would go over. “I’m tired. And I miss you.”

He was silent for several moments. When he finally spoke, all he said was, “I know something happened.”

“It didn’t Steve. Everything’s fine.”

“I know you’re lying to me. Why are you lying?” He was pleading now and you were too tired and hormonal for this.

“Steve,” you pleaded right back, your voice breaking just a little. “Can you please just believe me? Just this once?”

There was another long pause, and then, “Goddammit, I hate this. I can’t– I worry about you all the time. Every time I see a missed call or text from you, my stomach drops. But now you won’t talk to me. And I can’t help you. I don’t know what to do about any of it.”

“Steve,” you sighed. “I know you think you should always be able to fix everything, but there’s just nothing for you to fix this time, ok? Please?”

He just sighed and you both quietly sat on the phone together. You didn’t know what to say to him but couldn’t hang up. Finally, he broke the silence with “I really fucking miss you.”

You smiled just a little, even as you wiped the tears from your face. “I fucking miss you too. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said quietly. He sighed again. “Ok, I should go. But we’ll talk again soon. Take care of yourself.”

“Ok,” you said softly. “Bye.” You hung up and set your phone down then put your head in your hands and let yourself cry without trying to stop it. You didn’t notice anything happening around you until you felt a weight settle onto the couch beside you and suddenly your lap was full of Lola. Then a hand gingerly touched your back. When you didn’t move away, it started gently moving up and down. You couldn’t help but lean into it.

The strangest sensation came over you. You couldn’t explain it, but as you sat there on the couch, crying while Ransom rubbed your back, you somehow felt the best you had in months.

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @citronbun @rebeccapineapple @alexakeyloveloki @dancer3205 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @thecrandle @lokislady82 @thedazzlingburglar @23skidoosteven @she-wolf09231982 @arbesa-mind @samfreakingwinchester @blackhawkfanatic @emerald-writes @identity2212 @have-another-doughnut @patzammit @blackhawkfanatic @mooievis @dontbescaredtosingalong @curiousandjoyous @helensdrafts @cricket66 @vyctorya @disgruntled-cat @heyyitsreign @reader2003 @zaqnette @kmc1989 @steviebbboi @itsteambartowski @mrsstuckyboo

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #arranged marriage au #more than this #kris wrote something

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sunny44 · 8 months ago

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I can stay

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!reader

Warnings: none I guess

Summary: Y/n, feeling hurt and insecure after seeing photos of Lando with another girl, assumed that he moved on but he unexpectedly shows up at her door, leading to a heartfelt conversation about their feelings.

Previous Part

Several months have passed since Lando decided to leave, leaving behind what we had. I had already grown accustomed to his absence, trying to move on with my life. Tonight, I planned to go out with my friends to a local bar, hoping to distract my mind from the thoughts that haunt me.

We were having fun, laughing and chatting animatedly, until I decided to take a look at Instagram. And there they were - photos of Lando with a girl, smiling and looking completely in love. My heart sank as I read the caption confirming my worst fears: she was his new girlfriend.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the bar felt heavy and suffocating. I could no longer concentrate on my friends' conversation, my mind spinning around the image of Lando with that girl. And then my insecurities started to creep into my mind, of how that girl was everything I was not, and that led me to a conclusion.

And apparently the problem was me.

Without a word, I abruptly stood up from the table and ran out of the bar.

Back in the comfort of my apartment, tears began to stream down my face, smudging my makeup. I sank into the couch, trying to process the flood of emotions flooding my heart. How could I be so naive as to think he would come back to me or that I would be enough for Lando Norris.

After I finished cleaning my makeup, I put on my pajamas and as I was finishing tying my hair into a bun, I heard knocks on the door.

My heart skipped a beat with the startle I got from the loud knocks, but I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope and at the same time I was full of anger and hurt. Reluctantly, I went to the door and opened it.

And there he was, standing in the hallway, with a look of regret on his face.

"Y/n, please, let me explain," he began, his voice full of urgency.

I looked at him incredulously, my mind spinning with a mixture of emotions.

"What is there to explain, Lando? I saw the photos. You have a new girlfriend, so if you came here to rub that in my face you can leave, you wasted your time.”

I went to close the door but he held it.

"No, Y/n, you're misunderstanding. She's not my girlfriend.” He said with some despair. “And I would never do something like that.”

I rolled my eyes, unable to believe a word of what he was saying.

"Oh, sure. And the romantic photos are just a coincidence, is that it? Or the fact that you show up at my door after months right after the photos went viral on the internet?”

"I know it looks bad, but please, give me a chance to explain."

“And why do you care to explain to me? We are nothing to each other and you made that very clear when you walked out that door leaving me alone that night.”

“Please.” He begs.

I hesitated for a moment, fighting the urge to slam the door in his face. Finally, I took a step back and let him in.

"All right, Lando.” I muttered, my voice full of resignation. "But I can’t promise that I’ll believe you."

He nodded, silently thanking me for the opportunity. We sat on the couch and stayed silent for a few minutes, me waiting for him to speak and him thinking about what he would say.

“She's not my girlfriend.”

“You've already said that, but those photos show otherwise.”

“They were taken out of context, you know how it is.” I sighed because I knew how his world worked. “Max dragged me to that party and she was a friend of his who yes, hit on me and tried something but I pushed her away.”

“That doesn't change the fact that you broke my heart. That I begged you to stay that night and you simply turned your back on me and ended everything we had or didn't have.” He tried to wipe the tear that fell from my face but I dodged his hand. “And then I open Instagram and see a photo of you with a girl much prettier than me, and then with the writings “Lando Norris and his new girlfriend”, and then I felt like garbage because you wanted a girlfriend, just didn't want it to be me.”

“Don't say that, never say that again.” He holds my face. “You're perfect for me and it's all I want, but I'm an idiot who doesn't deserve your love let alone that you cry over me.”

“If you really think that, why did you leave me?”

“Because I'm a coward, I was afraid of my feelings for you.” He dries my tears. “I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you, and that scared me so I thought it was easier to leave than to say out loud that I love you.”

“What did you say?”

“That I love you and that I'm an idiot for leaving and even more idiotic for leaving it for months until I had the courage to come here.” He sighs. “I admit that the photos were what encouraged me to come, because I didn't want you to think I was with someone after saying I didn't want a relationship with you, even if it was a lie.”

“All right.”

“Do you forgive me?”

“I forgive you, but it still hurts to know that you preferred to run away than to talk to me.”

“I know and I'm sorry for that and I promise to make it up to you.”

“Can you stay? Please?” I asked and he smiled.

“I can stay.” He kisses me and for the first time he really stayed.

Taglist: @sltwins @hiireadstuff @lunaetxc @ssararuffoni @lansmclaren @ushygushybaby @daemyratwst @alymariec @mahhi7 @kaa212 @halaxxxx @ryanandshanearemydads @kapsylia

Guys, the names that have a line on top is because I couldn’t tag

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thesassypadawan · 4 months ago

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Tempo (A.J. x GFReader)

Summary: You don’t know how you let Jay talk you into this, warming him all through last call and close. But here you are… Being split open, not allowed to move… Until everyone is finally gone for the night.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut. Cockwarming, riding, slight hat abuse, and… A.J.’s big, fat dick.

Notes: I would love to hear what all you, lovelies, think! If you would like to see more of A.J.! If so...I already have so many other ideas in mind! ❤️

- A small whine escapes you and you wiggle impatiently on his lap, “Jaaay.” That is until you’re pressed against the keybed, hard enough to make you settle again… at least for the moment.

- It seems like you’ve been sitting here for hours. Listening to him play the piano, while he nurses drink after drink and splits you open with his massive cock. “Sssh, it’s all right…just feel the tempo, doll.”

- You don’t know how you let him talk you into this, warming him all through last call and close. But here you were… Not allowed to move or soothe the burning ache… Waiting for everyone to be gone for the night… So you can be rewarded.

- Huffing and pouting, sinking back into him. You’re all ready to complain some more, when a familiar voice calls from across the bar. “Sounds tight! Don’t forget to lock up this time!”

- Walls flutter, breath hitches. Frantically you readjust your skirt, concealing anything that may be showing. “Relax,” he whispers in your ear, a note of laughter in his voice. “Jake can’t see us.”

- Hands never pause once as he rocks gently to the music. Using it to cover up the way he begins to slowly buck upwards, somehow thrusting even further into your pussy. Acting like he doesn’t hear you biting back a moan, replying nonchalantly. “Thanks, man! I’ll drop the keys off in the mornin’!”

- When the sound of the side door shutting echoes throughout, you think A.J. is going to ‘finish the job’. Instead he stops playing, stills his hips abruptly. Reaches for his cigarette, taking a long drag. “Told ya, nothin’ to worry about.”

- Strangled whimpers fly from your throat, fingers grip at the dark wood. Clit throbbing more than ever. Slick seeping out of your cunt, drenching the base of his cock…your thighs. “You…you promised!”

- “I did, didn’t I?” Snuffing it out, you watch a smirk spread across his face. Big hands run up and down your sides. “Guess ya want me to fuck ya, huh?”

- Nodding, mewling softly. You squeeze around him, earning a low hiss in your ear. Gaze up with big, pleading eyes; trying desperately to coax him. ““Please…pretty please. Can’t take it any longer.”

- “Mmmh, ya have been such a good girl for me.” Long fingers trail, slip under the folds of you skirt. Finding your neglected nub; skillfully rubbing small circles on, rolling it. “Go ahead, have some fun.”

- Needing no extra encouragement, you lift off Jay’s length…to only drop back onto it. Pace already steady, an endless stream of moans falling from your lips. Lovely squelching sounds mixing with them. “Good…feels sooo good…”

- Spurred on by those words, both his hands come to rest on your waist. “Feels good?” Hold on you tight as he helps guide you, pick up speed. Sliding you quickly, hastily. “Why not make it better? Touch yourself. Wanna hear those pretty little noises ya make.”

- Happily obeying, one hand glides across your bust. Plucking at, tweaking your pert nipples through the thin fabric. The other twirls, pinches your clit. Teasing them in a way that has your pussy spasming, legs nearly giving out. Squeaking and squealing from the raw pleasure.

- With a stifled groan, his hips start moving opposite of yours. Every time you sink, he drives up. Shoving his cock deeper, forcing you to take every thick inch. “Just like that, sweetheart… Just like that…”

- Climax fast approaching. A.J. continues to fuck into you, bouncing you easily on his lap. Fat tip slamming, hitting your cervix. Making you babble and stutter; the heat rising, mind growing hazy. “G-gonna… Oh fuck, I’m g-gonna…”

- “Yeah?” He growls, tone gravelly and breathy. Fingers digging into your soft, pillowy flesh. “I will too.”

- Tugging you down hard, the coil snaps and you cry out. Body clamping, trembling. Creaming all over him…him pumping you with all that hot, sticky seed.

- “That was…incredible,” you pant, head flopping back against his broad shoulder. Once again, you’re back where you started. Sitting on Jay’s cock…stuffed in the best way possible.

- Strong arms envelope, face nuzzles into the side of your neck. Puffs of hot air tickling your skin when he sweetly mutters. “Ya look so pretty like this, all filled up by me. Think I might keep ya this way for another drink or song.”

- “All right, Mr. Big Shot, you got yourself a deal.” Reaching behind, your fingers barely graze the brim of his hat… “But you got to lose this first.” …before tipping and sending it tumbling to the floor.

- “I get it, not a fan,” he chuckles. Nipping tenderly at your collarbone, gently stroking your poor overstimed bud. “Fine, anything for ya, gorgeous. Anything to have cummin’ all over me again.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @lotte08, @rafeswifeyy2, @exsamlockwood-kate, @sythethecarrot, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @fuckmyskywalker, @everydaydreamer

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oreolemur · 7 months ago

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Streamer's Worst Nightmare

Working as a streamer, you never showed your face. It was easy to make money having a cute virtual character impersonate you, but after losing a couple of fans, money became tight. “Guess what guys?”, you asked your audience through the stream. “I’m starting an Onlyfans!”. In the chat section you had a mixture of comments complimenting and some shaming you. “I know this may be a bad idea…but at least I’ll let you guys see my face”. Looking at the chat you began to get more supportive replies. “It’ll only be for a short time until I work something out for extra cash. I hope you all subscribe and see more of my personal interests”. Waving goodbye to your fans, you immediately shut off your webcam. “I can’t believe I’m doing this”, you sighed.

Meanwhile, there was one fan of yours who wasn’t too happy about your decision. “An Onlyfans, huh?”, the man titled his head. “I’m not too happy to hear about that y/n”. He sat in front of his computer, lurking through your socials as he scarfed down a bunch of sweets. “I should pay a visit to her soon”. Crouching at his desk, L took drastic measures to find your location. “I will have you sooner or later, my sweet doll”.

Over the next few days, you began to feel more and more comfortable with your new line of work. “I’m making more than what I do streaming”, you beamed, staring at your financial statistics. “Maybe I should keep this up. Just for a little”. Posting pic after pic and video after video, you decided to open up your messages to give your subscribers a paid one on one chat with you. “Cum to my dm’s and have a little fun with me in private, my loves”, you say, making a vid of yourself in a pink robe. “I’ll be waiting”.

After making your final post for the day, you spent the entire night trying to reply back to the hundreds of customers who hit your dm’s. “I didn’t know I’d get this much”. Without opening the last few that came in, you got bored. “Nothing new?”, you scoffed. “It’s all the same suggestions”. Before closing your laptop, you received another message. “This one better be good”. Opening it, your eyes widened. “Hello”, it read. “At least this one has a normal greeting”, you smiled.

Messaging the person back, you enjoyed talking to them. “Wow, it’s been 30 minutes and they haven’t asked for anything special yet”. Texting them back, you asked them this. “Are you not interested in seeing anything special tonight?”. Waiting for their reply, you suddenly hear a noise in your living room. “That must be the cat again”, you sighed. Getting up from your bed, you headed that way. “Come here baby”, you signaled your pet. Picking up the furry animal, you walked back towards your room. Seeing the notification come through, you gently put down your cat. As you read the reply, your heart skipped a beat. “W-what?”. Reading the message again, you wanted to make sure that your eyes were working correctly. “Something special? Like your cute fuzzy slippers in the front doorway”, the message read. “This can’t be happening”, you begin to panic. Texting the person back, “What fuzzy slippers? I don’t have any”. Biting his nails, L stood in front of your bedroom door, “These ones”, he said.

Feeling a chill go down your spine, your heart beats fast as you froze. “You do have quite an interesting taste in style, doll”. Seeing the man from the corner of your eye, you turned around slowly. “H-How did you get in?”, you asked. He approached you slowly, bending down to your level as you sat on the bed. “Don’t worry about that”, he said. L’s big eyes stared at you, taking note of all of your beautiful facial features. “You know…”, he paused. “You’re more pretty in person…and short too”. He then tried to reach for your face, but you smacked his hand away. “D-don’t touch me”, you said, scooting back. L grabbed your leg, pulling you back towards him. “I’m stronger than I look. I would hate it if you made me get physical with you, my love”, he said.

“What do you want?”, you asked. “You”, L replied. "M-me? Why me?", you questioned. "If you're some creepy fan that has a crush on me...I won't date you". L tilts his head. "Why you? You're interesting. You interest me in ways no other human has. I want to peel you open. Analyze every inch of your brain until I know everything about you”, he chuckles. Hearing him say that creeped you out even more. L leans forward with each word. As he does so, his long black hair falls around his face, shrouding his eyes from view. "I want to get inside you”. L leans forward even more, until his face is mere inches from yours. His hair, now a tangled mess, conceals his face, but you can see the glint of curiosity and hunger in his eyes. "I want... to devour you." L whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

He tried to grab you, but you dodged it. You fell on the floor, getting up quickly to run away. The man smirked. He liked to watch people try and escape him. He always caught his prey in the end. L follows you, moving surprisingly quickly for somebody as lanky as him. "Where are you going, dear? The game was just getting interesting”. You ran into the living room, tripping over your cat's litter box. "Shit!", you yelled. You got up, heading towards the front door. L chuckled again. He really liked how you were trying to escape. It was so amusing and cute to watch you try and get away from him. L continued his pursuit, closing the ever-shrinking distance between you. "Don't you know that running away only makes me want you more, my dear? The more you resist, the more I crave to devour you”.

You tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge. L was suddenly directly behind you, his lips next to your ear. "It doesn't matter. There is no escaping me at this point, darling. I'm faster. I'm stronger. I'm smarter. You will be mine." L's words send shivers down your spine. He wrapped his arm around your neck, pulling towards you to the bedroom. "Let me go!", you shouted. "Oh, you are so adorable. Trying to act so tough even though you're shaking like a leaf in my grasp. I can feel how tense you are. You know you can't get away from me, but still, you persist. It's so cute!" L continues to drag you to the bedroom, a smug smirk on his face.

Once inside, he throws you onto the bed as he proceeds to take off his shirt. L tosses his shirt to the side, revealing his pale, lean chest. His eyes glint wickedly as he looks down at you. "Are you feeling vulnerable, my dear?”. You begin to cry, seeing him get closer and closer to you. "Please go away!", you begged. "Oh, but my darling, we're just getting started." L climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. As he does so, his long black hair falls forward, framing his face again. "You can't run from me. You can't hide from me. I will always find you." He leans down and whispers in your ear. "You're my obsession now”. He rubbed his hands through your hair, pulling on it as he brought your face close to his. "Shhh... let me hear those pretty cries," L says, placing his finger on your lips. "I want to savor every sound that comes out of you. You're so enticing when you're scared. It's like I'm feasting on a delicious meal”.

He kissed your lips passionately, pushing his tongue past the barrier of your lips. He explored the inside of your mouth, slightly moaning. A trail of spit connected both of your lips and he pulled away. “Now…”, he said. “I want to see more of you”. His hand opened the slit of your robe, exposing your breasts. “Perfect”, L said. He pinned your arms above your head as he moved his way down to your tits. He stuck out his tongue, licking your sensitive nipples. “S-stop”, you said, letting out a small whimper. His hand traveled down to your waist, rubbing your bare cunt. “You have such soft skin”, he said, making a pop suction noise as his mouth latched on and off your tit. Your legs shook, feeling him massage your clit. “No”, you said, closing them, trapping his hand in between your thighs. “I don’t like uncooperative people, my dear”, he said, forcing your legs open.

L’s cock hardened inside his pants, making him blush. “My god”, he said, moving his hand away from your pussy, he had your arms pinned with one hand as the other moved to unbutton his pants. “I didn’t think I would get this excited”, he said. You laid there crying, wishing this situation was over with. You saw his dick poke out of his boxers. “Stay still”, he said, unpinning you. He pulled them down just enough so he can fuck you. With your legs still spread, L positioned himself comfortably between them. He placed his cock on your cunt, spitting on it. He rubbed himself on you, attempting to lube your dry pussy. “If you scream I will hurt you”, he said, shoving cock inside you. The size caught you off guard, making you cry even louder. “Take it out!”, you yelled. He covered your mouth, leaning into your ear. “I can tell it’s your first time, my love”, he slightly smirked. “I felt your hymen break”. His thrusts were slow as he placed kisses onto your neck. His teeth sunk into your skin, leaving bruises.

Your body started to like his touch as your cunt became used to his cock. You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t like it, but you liked how fucked up the situation was. “Your body is starting to relax. You don’t feel tense anymore”, L grunted. He let go of your mouth, kissing your soft lips. He bit your lower lip, drawing blood. “If you keep up this good behavior…I might just let you go”. His thrusts quickened as he felt your walls tighten around him. You moaned as his pace went faster, feeling your orgasm arriving. L rested his head beside yours, moaning into your ear. “After I’m done, I’ll make sure no one else sees your body but me”.

#tw noncon #dark writing #death note #l lawliet #l death note #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet smut #death note smut #yandere x reader #yandere l lawliet

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anjelicawrites · 1 month ago

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Written as part of the Fan Frankentober event organized by @fandomeventcenter. Read the other works in the masterlist here!

Pairing: werewolf!Osferh x human!reader x vampire!Aemond Targaryen.

Synopsis: you just wanted to go the bookstore and buy some Halloween reads to celebrate Halloween. Now you’re running for you life, hunted down by two creatures that should only exists in stories

Warnings: DDDNE, Consensual noncon, oral (m & f receiving), facefucking, p in v sex, manhandling, mind control to force your partner to have sex, monsterfucking, biting, body horror, blood drinking, double v. penetration, squirting, slapping, dachryphilia, fighting overstimulation, demeaning language, multiple orgasms, creampie, tummy inflation.

Your breath burns in your lungs, you have been running for how long? It can’t be hours, can it?

A slim branch slaps your face as you try to power through the thick forest surrounding your home: where are you? You’ve never reached so deeply, not during a moonless night and without your dogs to guide you back on the beaten path.

Your foot catches a raised root, your body falls on the soft underbrush, your hands barely cushioning your weight as you scream in surprise.

It is a mistake. Now he knows where you are.

In this story thee people consensually decide to play out a non con fantasy. Read at your own risks. Be responsible for the fiction you consume!

NSFW and 18+ only please.

Crying you manage to stand up again, you don’t wait until your back is fully extended to start running again, half blinded by your own tears of terror now that you can hear his dark laugh reverberate through the black forest.

“I’ll find you little lamb, wherever you are. And when I do, I will bleed you dry!”

A desperate no slips from your lips, choked by your broken breathing.

You keep running, trying to look behind you in the desperate attempt to locate your assailant, feeling his cold breath down your neck.

“What do we have here?”

You feel big hands on your arms, a sturdy chest blocking your body.

You didn’t realize you have reached a clearing, too focused on running for your life to notice the tall man in front of you.

For a split second you let your mind believe you’ve found help, when the stranger smiles gently at the panicked way you try to explain yourself.

“He’s coming!” You scream, twisting your body in his hold. “He’s dangerous!”

He looks young, younger than he probably is, and far too calm for the situation.

“Please! We need to go!” You beg.

His smile turns darker at your words, only now your eyes pick the strange yellow of the irises and the vertical pupils: you could swear his eyes were baby blue, framed by the undercut of his blond hair. Through the stream of adrenaline coursing through your veins, you feel pinpricks on your arms. You gasp when you see his long nails and claw like hands around the red cotton of your hoodie.

“Little red riding hood all alone and lost in the woods. I guess you met the big, bad wolf.”

Your legs give under your weight when you see the way his face has switched: gone the elegant nose and sharp chin, now replaced by wolf-like elongated features and sharp teeth.

You’re so paralyzed with fear you can’t even scream.

“You smell delicious. I can’t wait to eat you up.” He growls, pulling your body closed to his, now, hairier one.

His scratchy tongue licks the side of your neck and smacks against his palate when he can taste you fully: your cunt must be delicious, he plans to eat it before and after he’s fucked you full of his cum.

Before he can tear your clothes to shreds, a dark shadow flies from the threes towards him, fangs ready to slice his neck apart, forcing him to throw you away like a rag doll, to defend himself.

Your body slams painfully against the trunk of an oak. For precious seconds you remain crumpled against the ancient tree, the pain cutting through you when you try to take a deeper breath, your eyes peeled open to look at the two monster fighting under the pallid light of the stars, one silver haired and armed with dangerously sharp fangs, the other more lupine than human in his rage and hunger.

Before your brain can make a plan, your body decides to escape them both, hoping they’d be too focused on killing one another, to notice you slipping away, back into the dense forest.

Snuffing moans of pain as you roll on your fours, you start crawling towards the edge of the forest, ignoring the squelching sounds of ripped flesh and animalistic groans as your hands plunge in the wet underbrush.

You’ve almost made to where the threes start to thicken, that a big hand grabs your hair, pulling you backwards with a painful tug.

“Where do you think you’re going, little red riding hood?”

The man wolf turns your head until you can meet his monstrous face, his body is a wall of muscles and fur behind you.

To your front, the other man, the one who had charmed you so easily during your monthly run to your local bookstore, who truly is something your mind refuses to name, smiles, showing fully his long fangs. How did you not notice those? How did you manage to find yourself in one of the books you usually read during the days before Halloween?

He hums, the one who had so charmingly introduced himself as Aemond, one eyebrow slightly raised to chide your silently.

“Trying to run away when we were fighting for you.” He growls. “Youth these days.”

In a vain attempt to free yourself, your hands go for the paw in your hair, your too small fingers try to pry the vice that keeps you on your knees, against his healing body.

“Please.” You cry. “Please just let me go.”

Tears stream down your cheeks: you don’t want to die.

The one named Aemond shush you gently, as if you were a child. He kneels in front of you to dry your tears with fingers as cold as death; the more he tries to calm you, the harder you cry.

“What should we do with this sweet little thing here?” The one behind you asks. “We can fight for the rest of the night and go home dissatisfied.”

You try to squirm in his hold and he simply pulls your hair harder, making you yelp in pain.

“What do you propose, wolf?” Aemond asks, eyeing the two of you with masked interest.

“We can reach an agreement that would leave us all satisfied.”

The thing that was supposed to be a man hums, his one eye roams your ruined clothes as if he’s trying to imagine the shape of your naked body.

“Do you want to go home, little lamb?” He asks you, the fake gentleness of his voice opens a new abyss of fear in your heart.

“Yes. Just let me go.” You manage to respond with a broken voice.

“You have to give us something in return, red riding hood.” The monster behind you interjects. “A little quid pro quo, I’d say.”

You try to squirm away again, your hands useless against the thick fingers curling painfully in your hair.

“Service us both, and we’ll let you go unscathed.”

You spit in Aemond’s face, angry and foolish, he backhands you, your head turning painfully, blood pouring from your split lip.

“Or as unscathed as you deserve.” The monster behind you murmurs in your ear. “The name’s Osferth, you’re going to scream it a lot.”

You’re thrown face first on the wet grass of the clearing, before you can even imagine to escape, their hands find your ruined clothes, tearing at your hoodie and leggings, until you’re left in your pretty underwear.

“Playing so hard to get.” The one named Osferth grabs the ornate silk of your panties and rips it apart. “Wearing these!”

You want to say that use pretty underwear because it makes you feel good, not because you want to be fucked, they don’t give you the time, nor do they care.

They manhandle you, uncaring of your whines of pain and your tears of absolute terror at their strength that can tear you apart in a second of carelessness.

You’re sitting on Osferth’s face, his big paws keep you keeled with your legs framing his head, he’s fucking your hole with his abnormally long tongue, moaning at your taste, his claws biting at your skin when you try to move away, too overstimulated.

Your hands are tied behind your back, since you don’t need them now; they used your pretty bra to secure them, the knot painfully tight and impossible to loosen.

Aemond is fucking your skull with abandon. His thick erection lodged in your throat pulsates with every contraction of your walls, his hips grind against your face; dizzy you try to move away, needing the oxygen he’s depriving you of. He grunts like an animal, your desperate moans arouse him even more, your trashing in his hold spurs him on in keeping your face plastered against his groin as he grinds and grinds, in tandem with Osferth’s fucking of your hole.

You want to scream, you want to get away from the pleasure possessing your body, enhanced by the lack of oxygen. Your clit fires and fires with every movement of Osferth’s nose, his paws force you to grind against him again and again, until the knot in your stomach breaks, and you come.

Aemond’s cum sprouts in your mouth at the same time, uncoordinated you choke on it, feeling the seed leaking from your lips and nose as he keeps fucking you face, despite your coughing and trashing, until he pushes you backwards and sideways, letting your spent body fall on the grass.

You try to catch your breathe, pulling oxygen in with desperate gulps, hoping they’re sated.

They’re not.

Aemond cuts your bindings and roughly turns you on your back, his hands grab your legs before you can close them. Osferth’s paws grabs your wrists to pin them over your head, stilling your body.

“Please.” You cry, receiving a fast slap on your cunt.

“You’re a liar, little red riding hood. You came all over my face.” Osferth leers from your side. “You should try their cunt. It tastes delicious.”

Aemond has you legs already over his shoulders, opening the lower part of your body to his hunger; his fingers pry your lower lips apart, freeing your clit and hole.

“Little lamb, why pretend? I can see how much honey you gave Osferth. Wouldn’t it be better to enjoy yourself?”

You close your eyes, turning your head to the side in the vain attempt to ignore the pleasure still coursing through your body.

Aemond is ravenous between your legs, kissing and sucking your tender clit until you arch under him, desperate, coming when he bites the inside of your tight to pull ravenously at your blood. He alternates between playing with your bud and drinking your blood in greedy gulps, moaning at the combined taste.

Osferth is at your chest, sucking and pinching your breasts, enhancing the pleasure exploding throughout your body, keeping your still when you try to squirm away, praising the taste of your skin and the smell of your arousal.

You can feel pleasure grow again, a tight knot in your belly ready to break soon, so soon…

Aemond abandons your cunt abruptly, grinning cruelly when you whine in displeasure.

“Those first two orgasms were free. Now you have to work for them.”

He grabs his thick erection, so big you start begging him to stop, that it will not fit, please!

“We’ll make it fit.” Osferth growls, curling his paw even tighter around your trapped wrist.

“We never said you’ll go home in pristine condition.” Aemond adds, stroking his cock.

You arch when he enters you and doesn’t stop to let you adjust to his size; he simply grabs your tights and pushes in with long strokes, uncaring of your whines, drunk already on the way he has to mold your walls around his cock.

He bottoms out with a groan; because he can, he grinds against your pearl, forcing a pained moan from your lips.

“Stop lying.” Osferth’s fingers pinch your clit cruelly. “You’re dripping around Aemond’s cock.”

“Please.” You beg, desperate. “It hurts.”

“Then why do I have a ring of your come around my base? I can feel your muscles trying to pull me in even more.”

You feel so full, fuller than any other lover, or toy, had ever made you feel. As deep as he is, Aemond’s cockhead is kissing your cervix painfully, Osferth’s fingers keep pinching and slapping your clit, the sensations working havoc on your poor brain, pleasure and pain fighting as you arch and beg.

You squirt all over Aemond’s cock, and he almost comes inside of you.

“Tell us again you hate this. That you don’t want to be fucked full of our seeds until sunrise.” He groans.

He fucks you with abandon, short and fast pushes against your cervix that make you scream in pain and kick with your feet against his back. Uselessly you try to free you wrist, earning a slap that reopens the cut on your lower lip.

At the sight of your blood, Aemond folds your body under his to fuck you deeper, his cock head battering your g spot repeatedly, his pubic bone torture against your puffy clit. He sucks your blood and bites you again, hungry for you, drunk on your taste and on the way your cunt strangles his cock and doesn’t let it go, keeps him in the warmth of your hole, greedily works him for his seed.

“Going to pump you full, give you all of it.”

You squirt again with a desperate scream, and then come, the vice of your hole so tight Aemond can’t control himself and comes inside of you; he keeps fucking you, milking himself using your hole, until it hurts too much to continue.

You lay on your back, legs splayed and tummy inflated by Aemond’s seed; under you the grass is wet, the humidity makes you shiver as your unfocused eyes try to look at the vague shapes of the stars above you, your body trying to come down to the incredible high you’ve just, unwillingly, experienced.

A scared whine escapes your lips when Osferth crawls between your legs, his face an elongated muzzle not completely the one of a wolf, hovers over you, an almost kind sparkle illuminates his yellow eyes and the alien, vertical pupils.

“Shh, don’t be afraid, you were so good for Aemond. Are you going to be good for me as well?”

A small part of you wants to beg him not to take you, to simply let you go; you know perfectly he will not, you have to give him what he thinks it’s due.

Tears fall freely from your tears as you let him turn you on your front like a rag doll, your arse up in the air.

You feel the pinprick of his claws on the soft skin of your hips, the warm palms grab your arse to pull you towards his erection, his big head opening your abused cunt to yet another brutal round of fucking.

With your face on the wet grass, you scream when he pounds inside of you, Aemond’s leftover seed and your own wetness helping him in bottoming out with an animalistic grunt, the pain of it forcing a whined sob out of your lips.

Osferth’s warmth envelopes you when he lays with his front on your back to kiss your nape.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. It makes me want to never stop fucking you.” He growls in your ear.

Fear fills your senses and his nostrils. Your natural scent takes a tantalizing turn for the predator living inside of him, and for the one in Aemond, who is naked on the grass, his one eye focused on your bodies as he slowly caresses his own growing erection.

“Keep smelling like this and I will never be able to leave your holes be.”

His hands curl tighter on your skin, his talons cut deeper, long lines of blood already dripping down your skin as he prepares to take what your body is offering him.

Despite being fucked open by Aemond, your cunt envelopes his thick cock and pulls him in, your hips kick back in his hold, forcing him deeper and deeper with every movement, his cock agony and pleasure against your screaming nerves.

Your mind can’t comprehend what’s happening, torn between the part of you that still refuses this, and your body that craves every push, every scratch down your back: you let go and stop fighting, letting your instincts take control and follow Osferth wherever he wants to take you.

You come on his cock, the pleasure a backlash that courses through your body and takes even more control away from you as he fucks your cervix hard and fast, reveling in the screams pouring from your bleeding lips, only to shift and focus on your G spot with brutal efficiency.

Your strength abandons you as you feel another orgasm surge through your battered body; you can’t match his fast pushes and let yourself be moved on his cock, like a living, breathing fleshlight for his use.

He fucks you through your orgasm, grinding against your body when you squirm and cry with overstimulation, one big paw pushing on your lower belly and you’re too far gone to understand what he wants from you: all you can feel is the stretch in your cunt and how the pressure grows and grows in your lower tummy, until you squirt for him, who comes immediately, filling you with his thick cum, inflating your abdomen with it when he doesn’t slip out but stays to feel even the smallest contraction of your battered muscles.

You’re laying on him, his bigger body shielding yours from the cold earth and wet grass of the clearing; deprived as you are of any form of strength, you don’t have the willpower to stop his big hands from caressing your breasts, or move your head when he kisses your neck, almost apologetic after fucking you within an inch of your life.

Between your legs, Aemond is drinking from your again, his long canines opening the bite on your tight to pull at your essence; he’s not ravenous now, the sucking motions almost lazy, as if he needs the contact with your skin more than he does your blood.

Over the sensual and horrific tableau of your bodies entwined the silent stars shine against the dark backdrop of the night.

You whine again, in fear, when Aemond’s bloodstained face hovers over yours, the red of your essence a blotchy splash against the white of his skin and hair; your mind almost formulates the thought, that Aemond answers you with a calm voice.

“Why would we kill you? You’re servicing us so well.”

You become even more agitated at the thought he can read your mind, that you don’t have a safe space even within yourself; they try to ease you with long kisses and even slower caresses on your abused body, but you can feel how hard they still are, the hunger hiding under the gentleness they’re showing you.

You will not survive another round, you’re too sore! The mere idea of your body being at the receiving end of such brutal, violent energy makes your heart lose a beat.

Under you Osferth nuzzles your neck and licks it as a dog would: he can smell your fear, now a rancid smell that kills his desire. He wants to give you pleasure again, so much of it you’ll forget all about the way he’s met you and that will ruin you for any other male, of any other specie, you’ll ever encounter in your life.

“One last encore, little red, riding hood.” He murmurs in your ear, trying to ease you. “We were both charged by the hunt and the fighting. There’s no need for that anymore.”

Aemond kisses your lips, his tongue seeking yours to share your heady taste with you; you whine at the ferrous taste of your own blood, yet your hands grab his sides, your nails scratching his ivory skin.

When your lips part, his one lilac eye burns with hunger, and something else foreign to you. The slash of the scar cutting brutally the perfection of his face, seems to burn redder now that he’s drank from you.

Aemond’s big palm presses on your still inflated belly, forcing a moan out of your lips when their combines seeds seep out of your puffy lips.

“I wish it would take inside of you.” Aemond growls. “I would keep you filled and plugged with it until your body swells with it.”

You whine, your body already in overdrive in their combined embrace.

“It can’t happen.” Osferth nuzzles his words against your neck. “Neither of us can plant our seeds in your fertile womb.”

“Please.” You hiccup, unsure why you’re begging: the heat in both their voices scare and excite you.

“What is the phrase you mortals use? One last rodeo?” Aemond says. “Have us again and then you’ll free to go.”

“I’m so sore! Please not my cunt again!”

“Shh. Shh.” Aemond lays his forehead against yours.

In horror you feel his mind linking with yours to force you to relax; you’re a passenger in your own body who is watching in horror as your muscles follow the will of another.

You feel Osferth open your legs with his to push his cock inside of you, your cunt’s nerves protest, but it’s so far away it might as well be someone else’s hole that’s being ravaged again.

No! No! No! Screams your mind when Aemond grabs his own erection and breaches you as well. I’m going to tear! You want to scream, yet only a litany of moans spill as the two monsters fill you until they can’t push inside of you anymore.

You come back to your lungs breathing furiously, to so much pressure in your lower belly you don’t understand how your body is managing.

“See?” Aemond smiles over you, showing his long fangs. “All is good.”

He kicks his head back and moans when your muscles clench around their cocks reflexively.

“You’re so good.” Osferth whines under you, his control ready to snap.

“So full.” You whine.

“Such a perfect scabbard you are, little lamb.” Aemond adds.

If you thought you were full before, when they start moving you feel so stuffed your mind blanks at the signals your body is firing.

They try to go slow, to open you up even more, pushing and pulling in tandem, to never leave your hole empty; the more your cunt squelches with their seed and your own honey, the faster they go, fucking you like mindless beasts.

You scream in pleasure, the pressure overwhelming, yet your cunt seems to be insatiable for their cocks, your muscles desperately try to pull the two monsters in, until they fuck you at the same time, hitting all the spots that take your sanity away from you.

You lose count of your orgasms, lost in the sea of pleasure your body doesn’t belong to you anymore, it’s their plaything, their refuge. It’s theirs to fuck and pummel, spurred by the sweet honey coating both their cocks.

You whine in displeasure when they both desert your hole to manhandle you in a kneeling position, only to breach you again at the same time; you’re so lost it’s their bodies that keep yours from folding, your head lolled back on Osferth’s shoulder, your mouth agape to let animalistic sounds spill as you bounce on their erections, the pressure building inside of you like a tide that explodes when you squirt violently around them, their fingers finding your clit to prolong your pleasure, and it’s never too much, the thin line of overstimulation long gone behind you three.

“One last orgasm.” Aemond commands you.

“Come with us!” Osferth moans under you.

You whine and cry at the sky as they redouble their efforts, fucking you wildly, scratching and kissing your tired body with increased hunger, until you clench around them, forcing them to follow you into the precipice, both their cocks unloading inside your battered walls, their seeds leaking out as soon as they exit your hole and fall on the grass with you.

“Was it too much, issa mēre drēje jorrāelagon, my one true love?” Aemond asks concerned.

He knows you’re safe and warm, since Osferth is shielding you again from the rough terrain with his naked body; almost on instinct he has turned fully into his wolf man form, so that between the fur and the heighten body heath, you will not feel the bite of the cold while you come back to them.

“Nouh.” You slur, so very tired now.

You lift your hand as if to touch Aemond, and leave it hovering next to his cheek: despite the fact that he has fed fully multiple times in the past few days, in preparation for this scene, and that he has drunk from you, when you’re coming down from your high, you can’t stand how cold his undead body is. You know he needs the physical contact to be sure you’re all right, but that’s all you can offer him.

“You were perfect.” Osferth’s face is now a full wolf muzzle, his wet snout familiar and calming against your burning skin. “Did I throw you too hard against the tree trunk?” He asks, concerned of his own brutish strength against your frail body.

Tiredly you turn your head and kiss the side of his muzzle, butterfly kisses that tickle him.

“I… I don’t think so.” You answer, but you know you’ll need Ibuprofen in the next few days.

Aemond’s ivory body seems to glisten with sweat and all your combined fluids under the placid light of the stars. Slowly he unfolds his long body and heads to the tree where the backpack housing the warmest, thickest blanket of the house is hidden.

With care and love he helps Osferth bundle you in, until he can see only the small oval of your face.

“Can we do this again? Soon?” You ask, nuzzling Osferth’s neck.

“You need to recuperate, first.” He tells you. “Tonight was taxing on your body.”

“And you need to be good for us.” Aemond interjects. “Taking your time to build back your strength.”

You preen, feeling their love for you: they might not be human anymore, yet their feelings are stronger than the ones of any other person you’ve ever met in your entire life.

“It’s not a ‘no, though.” You giggle. “I really want to play the idea that you two never let me go home, and decided to keep me as your human plaything. Your shared chew toy.”

Through the mental link Aemond provides, you can feel how excited they both are by the idea of locking you in the play room until you use your safeword.

“And you have to hunt for me again.” You add. “Because I managed to escape and you want to punish me.”

Reflexively, Osferth’s paws curl around your body: you can’t say things like that when he’s still covered in your combined scents.

“You need to be extra good, if you want that little idea to pan out.” He says, trying to control the excitement in his voice.

“Or very, very naughty.” You giggle.

“I can assure you that is the best way to never live that little fantasy.” Aemond tries to warn you.

Who is he even trying to convince? One word from you and he folds like a deck chair. You know that, Osferth does as well that he lives to serve you.

“We need a nice, long bath.” He tells you. “Followed by a long napping session.”

Osferth looks at the sky.

“Sunrise is approaching.” He tells Aemond.

“I know. Take your time, I’m starting the fire and the water.” He answers.

Faster than any human ever could, he collects the shreds of all your clothes and pushes them in the old backpack. He cups your face, fancying he can feel your skin over the thick blanket, before he rushes home.

“Can we have a horror movie play as we nap? Please?”

“You can have anything you want. Do you want to hot cocoa and cinnamon cookies when you wake up?”

You don’t respond, already asleep, safe in his embrace.

#fan frankentober #fan frankentober 2024 #aemond targaryen x reader x osferth #aemond targaryen x y/n x osferth #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen #osferth x reader #osferth x y/n #osferth

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samandcolbyownme · 20 days ago

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Could you please please do a reader x johnnie, we're johnnie was ending his stream and he accidentally doesn't, and reader comes into the room for whatever reason and everyone in the stream is like 'WHAT' 'WHAT IS READER DOING HERE???'

Warnings: none, swearing, kissing, fluff

Word Count: 701

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You cracked open the door, peaking in to see Johnnie strumming his guitar softly as he talks back and forth with the viewers.

“Yeah, yeah, I have a new song coming out soon.” He nods, looking up at the screen, “Were actually filming the music video for it over the next few days, which I’m excited about, um..”

He looks over, giving you a smile when he sees you looking in.

He looks back to the screen, “This video will be.. I don’t even know how to explain it, honestly, it’s cool, I’ll tell you that.”

You push the door open more, slowly and as quiet as you possibly can, sneak over to sit on the floor by his desk.

He leans forward, reaching out to grab your hand before sitting back up, “I’ll give you a little preview of the song, the acoustic version if you will.”

He clears his throat and you rest your chin on your knees, watching up at him as you listen to his voice fill the room.

You swayed back and forth, closing your eyes as you know he’s really serenading you in secret.

He hums a little before picking up with the words and you smile up at him, giving him a thumbs up when he glances down at you.

He smirks, shaking his head before looking back up at the screen, “Why am I all of a sudden so smiley? Well I- I’ll put it this way, until you have a work of art in progress that you’re exited to get out, you wouldn’t understand.”

Johnnie tilts his head, “That sounded absolutely dickish, my apologies. I’m just so happy to get this out for you guys.”

You reach over, secretly laying your hand on his leg under the desk and he leans back, “Alright guys, I think I’m going to call it a night, I’ll get back on tomorrow and fill you in on the first day of the music video shoot.”

Johnnie sets his guitar down and leans forward, “Thank you all so much, I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He clicks off and turns the chair towards you as he takes off his head set. You stand up, “Good stream, J?”

“Yeah, it was good.” He nods with a smile, biting down on his lip rings, “How was dinner with Tara?”

You nod, walking over to stand between his knees, “Actually really good, I brought you something back.”

“Oh no way! I’m actually starving.” He slides his hands up your thighs and lays them on your hips, “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” You run your hand through his hair and look over at the computer screen. Your heart skips a beat as you see the chat still filling with messages.

USER.ONE: UMMM HELLO

USER.TWO: WAIT Y/N!?!?!? Am I seeing this correctly???

USER.THREE: WHAT IS Y/N DOING THERE!?

USER.FOUR: is that Y/N Y/L/N?????

USER.FIVE: Y/N and JOHNNIE OH OH OH

USER.SIX: I HAVE NO ONE TO TALK TO ABOUT THIS!!!!!

“Uh, Johnnie.” You tap his shoulder and he looks over, “What- oh fuck. I’m sorry. I thought I-“ he laughs slightly, “I thought I logged off.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “It’s fine.”

“Sorry guys.” Johnnie puts his headset back on and sighs, “I guess this wasn’t goodbye.” He laughs, “So I guess, um..” he looks up at you, “I guess the cat is out of the bag, huh?”

You nod, sitting down on his lap, “I guess so.” You smile as you wave to the camera, “It’s me, Hi.”

USER.SEVEN: so it’s TRUE!?

USER.EIGHT: ohhhh this is so goooood!!!

USER.NINE: WHAT THE HELL I CALLED THIS SHIT!!!

USER.TEN: STOP IT THIS IS PERFECT

“I’m glad to see that they’re responding well.” You smile and look at Johnnie. He looks up at you and gives you a smile, “If they didn’t, then that’s on them.”

He leans in, pecking your lips, “I love this girl.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thank you so much for reading! I love you all so much! 🖤 catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #Johnnie Guilbert #Johnnie Guilbert fluff #Johnnie Guilbert x reader #Johnnie Guilbert fluff one shot #Johnnie Guilbert fluff blurb #Johnnie Guilbert fluff snippet #blurb #snippet #fluff blurb #Johnnie Guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert one shots #johnnie guilbert blurb #johnnie guilbert fanfiction #johnnie guilbert one shot #johnnie guilbert fanfic

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toxic3mmy · 7 months ago

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being like all bratty ( i think that’s the word) and all to Quackity and he ends up fucking the shit out of you?

ummm yes??? this sounds sooooo hot teehee, thx for the request!!

[it turned out a little more loving than rough sex.. oops??]

prompt: you and alex have a project due and he keeps slacking off until he’s had enough of your bratty attitude

warnings: nsfw! smut smutty smuttt!

it was finally 7:30 pm. alex said he would meet you at the college library to finish up your project after work and you had been waiting on him there for almost an hour now. the good thing was that you were alone and had time to focus on your part of the slideshow.

you had about two slides left when you heard a huge thud on the table you were sat at. you looked up and saw alex smiling sheepishly at you.

“sup nerd, you almost done with our project?” he said as he sat back in his chair and kicked his feet up to rest on the table

you rolled your eyes and said with an annoyed face,

“yeah right, come on let’s get this over with already” you grumbled

“actually, shit… i forgot my laptop” alex said while looking through his backpack. he looked up at you and asked

“mind if i go get it? i’m pretty sure i left it at my house and it’s not far from here” he didn’t even wait for me to respond, already collecting his things to go

“wait, maybe we should just do the project at yours… they close the library in thirty minutes anyways” you said, feeling even more annoyed than before because now you were going to be forced to be alone with alex

“cool, let’s go” he walked out of the school and to his car in the parking lot

you felt a bit uncomfortable and nervous as you got into his passenger seat. you weren’t sure why but his very existence got so deep under your skin that it really pissed you off. maybe it was his arrogant personality or maybe it was the way every girl at your college drooled over him, or maybe it was both. the truth is, you also felt an attraction for alex but you refused to be like every other brainless bimbo at school. you liked to think that you actually had taste when it came to guys.

your thoughts were interrupted by alex parking his car and getting out, having you follow him. he unlocked the door to his house and let you in. he got comfortable and led you into an office like room where you assumed he did his homework and probably his streaming. he had a huge desk with a pc setup as well as note taking materials next to the pc. there was also a small couch and that’s where you decided to put your backpack.

“here, i’ll go get a chair for you to sit next to me” alex broke the silence between you too. you nodded silently and took all your notes out to finally finish this project.

“sit” he said as he placed another office chair next to his fancy gamer chair

you chuckled to yourself

“what?” he asked, genuinely confused

“oh nothing… just realized you have a gamer chair.. it’s so uwu of you” you teased him and laughed even louder

“says the one that dresses like an e girl with all those fishnets and eyeliner” he said mockingly

“don’t even! i know you’re not judging my clothing choices when you legit always look like adam sandler plus that stupid beanie you never take off”

“can you shut up? we have a project to work on” alex said in a sarcastic manner

you didn’t say anything in response to him. instead, you went over what you had finished with your part of the project. you then kept talking about some ways for alex to tie his part into yours so that it would all flow seamlessly. you were pointing out certain topics in your textbook when you look up to see alex typing away on his phone.

“dude… are you serious? i was over here talking to the fucking wall i guess! were you seriously not listening to me?”

he simply put a finger up as if telling you to wait for him to finish texting. you waited impatiently and after a few minutes, he finally put down his phone.

“my bad, i have this thing i’ve been working on with team members for our twitch.. but uh yeah of course i heard everything you said.” he lied and it made anger begin to boil up inside of you.

“how much do you even have done?” you asked, trying to calm yourself down

“oh uh.. i have all my pictures set up in the powerpoint” he said as if it were something to be proud about

you grit your teeth together as you realized what he meant by that

“you haven’t even started on your section?? i cannot believe you…” you groaned really annoyed now

“yes i have started! it’s not my fault that i need to do work stuff in my free time” he said as he messed with a pen on his desk

“ohhh, you have a twitch event that you’ve been working on for weeks? aw thats so cool, yeah i seriously don’t give a fuck. you had all semester and you don’t even care! it’s our senior year and uni is something that we need to take seriously i mean this counts towards our final! i don’t want to have to fucking repeat this class just because you’re a careless arrogant selfish piece of shit!”

“woah woah, what the fuck is your issue?!” he began to lose his cool, sitting up and facing towards you as he raised his voice

“you’re my problem! like dude i get that you play your little video games on stream and that seems to be what you worry about most but i actually want to get a good career and i actually care about my grades! unlike you! you think that just because everyone likes you, you’ll get everything handed to you. well sorry to burst your bubble but clicking and clacking on your keyboard all day long isn’t going to prepare you for the real world!”

“who the fuck do you think you are? you have no right to say any of this to me, are you kidding?” alex was now standing up and towering over you

“look… i just had a bad day okay? i worked really early this morning and i honestly would much rather be in bed right now than arguing with you i mean, we’re not even getting any work done! god this is pointless..” you sighed, running your hands through your hair as you felt afraid to look alex in his eyes

“i worked today too, ya know. but you don’t see me being so prissy and uptight about a damn project that won’t even matter in a year.”

“yeah well im sure my work was way more productive and hard than you playing dumb computer games all day”

“listen you little brat, you have no right to tell me anything about my career choices. and for the record, my dumb little twitch job is making me more money each month than youd ever see after years of whatever boring fucking corporate job you get into” alex said, holding you tightly by your t shirt

“yeah fucking right. you’re just a lazy idiot! all you had to do was finish a few slides and we’d be through here and you can’t even do that. i’m leaving, thanks for nothing” you spit out angrily as you hastily began to pack your things to leave

alex was silently in deep thought. as you reached the door, he tugged your backpack back and off of your shoulder. he grabbed you rather harshly and your back was pushed up against his bedroom door.

“you’re not going anywhere. you think you can just walk out of here after insulting me and being a shitty little brat?!”

“what?..” you asked quietly

“you heard me y/n, you’re being a fucking brat.. and brats should be treated the way they deserve” he spoke hotly against your lips before leaning forward and kissing you

you weren’t prepared for him to kiss you so sweetly. you practically melted against his lips. you kissed back until he whimpered and brought you back to reality.

“ugh! get off of me, asshole!” you pushed his chest roughly but before you could make any other move, he caught your arm

“i know you want me y/n, i see the way you look at me. you and every other girl at school are just so thirsty for me huh? look at these tiny skirts you always wear.. you’re just asking for it” he smirked as his fingers danced up your thigh and touched your skirt

“ha! i don’t want you. unlike the girls at school, i have a brain and i sure as fuck would never touch you” you lied to his face

you gasped and felt your face go red as his hand was now touching the fabric of your panties

“then why are you soaking wet for me?” he chuckled as he pulled your panties aside and played with your wet folds

he walked you towards his bed, sitting you down as he hovered over you.

“i fucking hate you!” you angrily smashed your lips to his.

your tongue slid across his lips, asking for entrance. alex greedily let your tongue slide against his. your hands tangled in his hair and tugged harshly as he continued to touch you.

“i hate you too, you fucking brat. now be a good girl and taked this top off for me” his lips connected with yours as you shakily unbuttoned your school top and threw it aside.

you reached out and began to unzip his pants just enough to release his hardened cock. he moaned at the contact and continued to play with your slick heat as you started to move your hands up and down his dick.

he pulled away from the kiss and pulled your hair in a ponytail with one hand and held your palm upwards with his other.

“spit” he demanded and you did what he asked

he then moved your wet hand to his cock and let go of your hair. he went back to rubbing your throbbing clit. you moved your hand and he was practically thrusting into your touch.

“alex… please” you whispered and tried to lead his leaking dick to your pussy but alex stopped you

“aw come on y/n, you can do better than that. you just love to yap and insult me, don’t you, you little brat? why don’t you put that pretty little mouth of yours to good use and beg for me. beg me to fuck you”

at this point, you needed him so badly and you didn’t care how desperate you looked as you complied with his demands.

“please alex, i need you so badly. please just fuck me and i promise to be nicer to you. im so wet for you..” you moaned out as his fingers finally stopped teasing you and entered your quivering hole

“tell me you want me.. tell me y/n” he said in a lustful voice, his fingers curling deeper into you. his lips attached to one of your hard nipples, deliciously tracing circles with the tip of his tongue

“oh fuck.. i n-need you, i want you alex! i’ve wanted you since i first saw you! i hate you so much but i want you to fuck me, please!” you were rutting against his hand needing more

he laughed as he was amused and feeling very satisfied with your response. he stopped touching you completely and undressed himself. he then reached out and stripped you of your shirt and panties, leaving the two of you completely naked.

“you’re so fucking sexy” he said, looking at you hungrily

“get on your hands and knees, show me that pretty ass”

you did what he asked needing him inside of you now. he groaned at the sight of your round ass on view for him. as he pushed himself inside of you, you arched your back from pleasure. he began to move slowly as you adjusted to the stretch. the second you started moaning, he grabbed your hips and mercilessly pounded into you.

“fuck! you’re so tight y/n” his hand made harsh contact with a loud smack on your ass

you fucked back onto his cock, feeling so overcome with pleasure

“a-alex, ‘m so close” you whimpered

he stopped fucking into you and sat up in his bed. he gently tugged you towards him, motioning to sit on his lap

“come ride me, sweetheart” he said huskily and of course, you obliged

you sat on his dick, feeling every inch of him fill you up. you were in complete bliss as you began to ride him slowly. alex leaned forward and hugged you to his body as he kissed your lips. you fought his tongue with yours for dominance as the two of you rocked together in a sweet rhythm.

“you feel so good… so so good alexis” you whispered in broken sobs

“yeah, baby girl? aw just look at you. you’re so needy for me aren’t you?”

you rocked your hips, grinding his cock into you. he was so deep inside of you and you couldn’t help but want more. he hit just the right spot inside of your needy cunt and you moaned loudly. your back arched as you threw your head back in pure bliss. alex kissed up your neck as he had full access. he pulled you closer to him, tucking your hair behind your ear gently

“you’re so beautiful y/n, i could do this forever. would you like that? would you like to be my fuck toy? i could use you whenever i please, yeah? tell me how good i feel, hermosa” he said as he looked into your eyes.

“you feel incredible.. you’re making me feel things i’ve never felt before.. please use me whenever” you said breathlessly

“such a good girl” alex praised, kissing you ever so gently as you continued to move at the same pace together

“a-alex, i’m so close”

“cum with me y/n, cum with me” he whimpered, letting out the sweetest whines and speeding his hips to meet yours

he held your hips still as he fucked into you faster and faster, chasing both of your highs

with loud gasps and moan, you both climax together.

alex slows his pace to a stop and you both catch your breath.

“y/n…?”

“yeah?” you breathe out, finally getting off of alex and laying down next to him

“i finished my part of the project yesterday, i just wanted to mess with you” he grinned and you smacked him playfully

“alex! you ass!”

“hey.. it worked out well for us didn’t it?” he smiled innocently

“come on, let’s shower. im all sweaty” alex says, pulling you up and towards his shower

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #quackity fanfic #quackity smut

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swaps55 · 28 days ago

Note

Please I have to know! Do you have any other ‘what we choose’ multiverse first kiss scenes in-progress/in your mind/etc? I just reread the moment between them when Kaidan’s putting on Sam’s N chain and sjsksjsjsk

Apologies for making you wait, but since I didn't have the heart to tell you that I didn't have one cooking, I just wrote one. <3

This may start out looking familiar to you. Until it doesn't. :D

In Your Universe

02 December, 2182, Arcturus Stream, Arcturus, Arcturus Station

A steady crowd of people mill through the observation deck on the Callisto section of Arcturus’ torus ring. This time Kaidan knows where he’s going, but even though he’s a few minutes early, the buzz of Shepard’s biotic field slips under his skin before he spies the small opening in the wall just below the ceiling. The only difference between now and that morning almost four years ago is the souvenir shop where the empty storefront used to be.

Shepard pokes his head out of the alcove and holds out his hand for Kaidan to grab. No biotic energy to pull him up this time – Kaidan brings his own momentum. But Shepard’s pull is still stronger, and for half a heartbeat Kaidan winds up in his arms. He clears his throat as they disentangle, and settles beside him in this strange little architectural oddity that’s a perfect fit for two people to sit and watch the stars.

“Still beautiful,” Kaidan murmurs, looking out the window. He mostly means the view.

“Never lets me down, I’ll give it that,” Shepard admits. He pushes a datapad out of the way and stuffs a stylus in his pocket.

“Been here long?” Kaidan asks. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Nah. Needed some time to do a little thinking. Been a hell of a day, and it’s not over yet.”

Kaidan sticks one foot out in front of him, so it hangs just off the ledge. “Yeah. New rank, new ship, new crew. What did you think?”

Shepard ducks his head, hiding a smile behind a fist. When had Kaidan first seen him smile like that? It should stand out in his memory, but it doesn’t. Sometimes it feels like there have never been any firsts with Shepard. They’ve just always been.

“The ship’s pretty incredible. You’d have a field day. She’s got stealth tech.”

“Stealth? Really?”

He nods. “Get this. It’s a cross-species effort with the turians.”

“Huh.”

“The chief engineer threw a lot of jargon at me, but the long and short of it is, she’s got an internal emissions sink system that stores waste heat. She can run silent for close to three hours before the crew is in danger of cooking.”

“Damn. I’m guessing wherever they plan on sending you won’t be lacking for action.”

“Not from what I gather. Crew is hand-picked. She’s small, fast, top of the line, and you would hate the pilot.”

Kaidan snorts and leans back on his elbows. “Why would I hate the pilot?”

“Just trust me.”

“Okay,” Kaidan says with a wry smile. “Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

There must be a little more misery in his tone than he intends, because Shepard’s expression sobers, and the gravity well flips.

“Anderson’s the CO,” Shepard says, right before the quiet that settles between them starts to get heavy.

Kaidan’s eyes widen. “Oh, that’s great, Shepard. Really great.”

“Should make things interesting, that’s for sure. I sure can drive him batshit. Wonder how long before he wants to put me out the airlock.”

“He thinks the world of you, Shepard. You know that right?”

Shepard shrugs a shoulder and pulls the stylus out of his pocket, twirling it in his fingers. “Lot to live up to, still.”

“Hey. You’ve worked so hard for this. And you’re going to get to do it with the person who means the most to you. Enjoy it, okay? At least for a minute. This is everything you wanted.”

Shepard looks at him, right at him, eyes so clear and sharp there can’t possibly be anything Kaidan can hide.

“Yeah. Guess it is.”

Maybe the hint of regret in his voice isn’t real, just Kaidan hearing what he wants to hear. Just like the hand on his shoulder at the café didn’t mean anything, the damn crooked pin at the ceremony had just been harmless banter, and the way Shepard’s looking at him right now is just Shepard.

That’s what he always tells himself.

What if it is something? His stomach churns with a rush of exhilaration and anxiety. What would you do if I told you the truth? If I kissed you, would you push me away, or put your arms around me and tell me not to stop?

But then Shepard drops his eyes and the moment’s gone. He shoves the stylus back in his pocket, scowls, and digs something else out and holds it up to examine. It’s a chain, for a dress uniform, but black instead of the regulation gold. Just like the one Shepard already has on, linking the top button of his jacket with the gold trim of the shoulder pad. The chain worn by anyone who’s achieved N status – the only adornment allowed by anyone who isn’t N7.

Kaidan raises a curious eyebrow as Shepard rolls it between his fingers, the gaze that moments ago had only been for Kaidan now bent elsewhere.

“Did you bring an extra this time?” Kaidan asks, trying not to smile. The last time Shepard had taken that dress coat off, after the N7 ceremony, he’d forgotten to undo the chain first and snapped it in half.

He shakes his head. “My mom gave it to me today. It…was my dad’s.”

Oh.

“Why today?” Kaidan asks. “Why not when you made N1?”

His laugh is bitter. “She didn’t know she had it. She never went through his things.”

“Oh,” Kaidan says softly. “I’m sorry, Shepard.”

“It’s just a chain,” he says with a shake of his head, and starts to shove it back in his pocket. “Never been the sentimental type, anyway.”

Kaidan stops him, leaning in close enough the sharp hum of their mingled fields leaves him a little lightheaded. Shepard’s lips hover close, too close while Kaidan detaches the chain on his uniform. When he drops it in Shepard’s open palm and takes the one that belonged to his father, an electric shock passes through their fingers. Kaidan swallows, makes the mistake of glancing up at those eyes that may as well hold the depth of the stars inside, then fastens the chain carefully in place. Throughout, Shepard watches him in silence that feels like it means something.

“Thanks,” Shepard says softly.

Kaidan traces the chain with a finger, lump growing in his throat, all the times Shepard had nearly killed himself chasing N7, carving the path that’s now leading him away from the ‘Yang to Anderson and the Normandy flashing in front of his eyes.

They’re sending you somewhere I can’t protect you.

Like a reflex, he splays his hand against Shepard’s chest. There’s still an undershirt, dress jacket and dress uniform between them. Sometimes it seems like there’s so much standing between them, even when they’re side by side, and that space is about to become so vast.

But he can still feel Shepard’s heartbeat. Not a number in his HUD. Just a steady rhythm under his palm. He draws in a ragged breath.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

The words are out before he can stop them.

He curls his fingers against the fabric of Shepard’s uniform, trying to break the spell, trying to pull away while he still can, but instead Shepard cups his knuckles, trapping them in place.

He’s always been trapped in Shepard’s gravitational pull. There’s never been any other star he’s wanted to orbit.

“Hey,” Shepard says. “Kaidan, I…”

Without giving himself time to think about what it could cost them, he hooks Shepard’s neck with his other hand and erases the space between them.

Kaidan does little more than brush their lips together, so quick and reckless he almost misses. It’s nothing like what he's imagined in the rare moments where he let himself imagine anything at all. But when they part it’s only by inches. He can’t bring himself to move farther away.

But Shepard doesn’t move either.

They hover nose to nose. Shepard sits still as a stone, breath warm against Kaidan’s cheek, gaze unfocused, like the galaxy has just reordered itself around him. When he finally manages to speak, it's with a voice Kaidan's never heard before.

"Oh."

Kaidan inhales, the reality of what he’s just done setting in hard. “I’m sorry,” he says hastily, trying to scramble away, trying to think of a way to fix it, but Shepard tightens his grip on Kaidan’s hand, keeping it pressed against his chest. His eyes glitter like the stars in front of them, though reading his expression is like being on the wrong side of a two-way mirror. For agonizing seconds, he doesn’t say a word.

“Oh,” he repeats, softer this time, eyes dropping to Kaidan’s mouth. The gap between them narrows until it doesn’t exist.

The kiss starts awkward, hesitant, like they’re a flickering candle that can’t get enough oxygen to catch. But then Shepard’s head tilts to the left ever so slightly, and suddenly…it does.

Shepard’s lips part wider, drawing Kaidan in, before returning to something chaste, like he’s testing what it means, how it feels. Kaidan goes with it, he’ll go anywhere Shepard leads, so long as they go there together.

The gravity well swirls with a gentle hiss of static. Shepard’s fingers curl around the hand Kaidan still splays against his chest, like an anchor locking them together. Kaidan traces the back of Shepard’s neck with a thumb, catching the stubble of freshly shaved hairs at the base of his hairline.

In the space of heartbeat, kissing Shepard is as effortless as breathing. Soft, slow, with only the stars as a witness. They take their time, letting it grow around them, taking its own shape, until it feels familiar. Theirs. Callisto buzzes with the sounds of conversations, life, and laughter taking place below them. But here, in this little pocket of time and space Shepard has carved out for them, there is only the warmth of his mouth, the hum of his biotic field, the beat of his racing heart.

It’s racing for me.

Kaidan grips the front of Shepard’s uniform, black chain tangling in his fingers, still trapped under Shepard’s hand.

I was made for you, Kaidan thinks as Shepard slips an arm around him.

But that isn’t true, is it? There is nothing predestined about it. Nothing written in the stars.

Only what they’d spent four years writing themselves.

When they finally part they rest their foreheads together, breathless. Shepard’s eyes flick to Kaidan’s. He reaches a hand up, hesitates, then gently runs his fingers through Kaidan’s hair. Kaidan closes his eyes and breathes deep.

“That felt…like something we should have done a long time ago.”

A laugh slips out of Kaidan. Not quite the reaction he’d planned, not that he’d had anything planned. But at the sound of it, Shepard’s face lights up like the sunrise.

“When, um. When the hell were you gonna tell me you could kiss like that?”

A flush builds at the back of Kaidan’s neck. “Didn’t, uh. Didn’t think it was relevant to your, uh, interests.”

“My fucking interests.” Shepard’s turn to laugh. “You dick.” He wraps Kaidan up in a tight embrace. Kaidan hooks an arm around his neck, the way they’ve done so many times for helmet checks, always with armor in the way.

No armor now.

“I’m sorry,” Kaidan says, head buzzing with a mix of euphoria, elation, and dread. In a matter of hours, Shepard is supposed to report to a new ship. “My timing for this is really terrible.”

“Epically terrible, are you kidding me?”

Kaidan huffs. “Well, I planned to take it to my grave, but it turns out going back to the ‘Yang without you wasn’t…something I could do.”

Shepard pulls away from him, expression turning solemn. Kaidan tries to look away, but Shepard catches his chin in his fingers and holds his gaze.

“You weren’t going to tell me. You were just gonna let me walk onto another ship and not say anything. Why? You’re—” His face scrunches up as several different emotions pass across it at once. “Why.”

“And risk losing you, because I wanted something you didn’t?” Kaidan scoffs. “No. You’re the best thing I’ve ever had in my life. I just wanted to…be in your universe, I guess. Whatever that looked like. Whatever that meant…to you. If it didn’t mean, well—”

“Making out with me.”

Kaidan rolls his eyes. “Fine, if it didn’t mean making out with you…so be it. We part ways here, and I hope like hell you call me every now and then so I can still hear your voice.”

Shepard waggles an eyebrow. “So you’re into my voice, too, huh?”

“You know what, never mind,” Kaidan says, stifling a grin. “Forget it. I’m finding another hiding spot where I can spill my guts to someone who isn’t the actual worst.”

Shepard seizes hold of him with a laugh that’s light as a bell and pulls him in close until his back is pressed against Shepard’s chest, and presses his nose to Kaidan’s ear.

“You idiot. You are my universe.”

A shiver runs down his spine. Shepard might have a point about the voice thing. The low resonance of it in his ear is…well, it’s fucking exhilarating. He grips Shepard’s arm, closes his eyes, and exhales. “Kinda feels like we’ve been saying that to each other for four years now.”

“Maybe it’s time we finally listened to ourselves.”

Kaidan turns his head and kisses him again, deep and slow.

“Fuck, I’m a great listener,” Shepard murmurs when they part. Kaidan laughs, and Shepard’s grin gets even wider.

There is no star that shines like you do.

Shepard’s omnitool flashes. He dismisses the notification with a grunt, using the opportunity to rearrange his limbs into a more comfortable shape. A shape that includes Kaidan. His head spins.

“Something you need to deal with?” Kaidan asks, nodding to his omnitool.

“Later. Don’t worry about it.”

“Come on, I worry about everything.”

“Yeah, I love that about you.”

Shepard’s eyes widen the moment the words are out of his mouth. Kaidan’s heart does a somersault.

“Um,” Shepard stammers. “What I meant was…” He stops. Shakes his head. “No. That’s, uh. That’s what I meant. I think I love a lot of things about you. Everything, probably. You’re—”

Kaidan cuts him off. Continuing to exist in a galaxy where the words haven’t been said out loud is something he can’t stand anymore.

“I love you.”

It’s the truest, boldest, most honest thing he’s ever said in his life.

Shepard gazes at him, poleaxed, then chuckles weakly. “Well. We’re just having revelations all over the place today, aren’t we?”

“Figured a few more couldn’t hurt.”

“No. I…think kind of the opposite. It’s, ah.” His face relaxes a little. “It sounds kind of amazing. Something I didn’t know I wanted to hear.”

“I love you,” Kaidan repeats, softer this time.

Shepard holds him tighter, resting his head on Kaidan’s shoulder. For a few minutes, they just sit in each other’s arms and watch the stars.

So many stars, home to so many worlds. Humanity had ventured out into the night sky and found new life, new constellations, new technology that had taken them to more stars, where they built new homes in alien frontiers. And somehow, through it all, I still managed to find you.

Some days the galaxy feels so big. Other times…it doesn’t.

“You know,” Shepard says quietly. “The day I first brought you here…I almost didn’t.”

“Oh?”

A wistful smile tugs at his lips. “I thought if I didn’t say anything, maybe you’d give up and go away and I could be left the hell alone. It was a miserable day for me. Last thing I wanted was someone else to see it.”

“What…changed your mind?”

“I knew you. You’re stubborn as hell and never give up when you’re set on something. I was doomed to never know peace.”

Kaidan chuckles.

“And you were—” He hesitates. Kaidan gives him space to put his thoughts together. “I grew up coming to this spot. Never told anyone about it. It was mine. No one could find me when I came here. But then…you did. And I realized…I wanted you to. Felt your field and was actually relieved that maybe I wasn’t going to be miserable…alone.” He laughs weakly. “Yeah, looking back, this is pretty obvious and I’m kind of an idiot.”

“I love that about you,” Kaidan says softly.

Shepard presses a kiss to his temple, but that’s not enough. Kaidan turns his head and kisses him like he means it. Shepard makes a sound that goes straight to Kaidan’s groin.

Which is when reality sets in. Kaidan pulls back and drops his gaze, fingering the black chain on Shepard’s uniform. “So…I just, ah. Made things a lot more complicated.”

“We. Team effort, here.”

“We,” Kaidan repeats. “Guess it could be worse. Could have done it while you were still my superior officer.”

Unease flicks past Shepard’s face. He shifts restlessly. “Yeah, that would, uh, make things a little more complicated.”

Kaidan gives him a wan smile and traces the line of his jaw with his fingers, something he’s never done before, and hopes to do a thousand more time. “What do we do now?”

“How about we worry about now later? You’re the one who said I should just enjoy things for a minute.”

This is everything you wanted.

Kaidan settles back against him and exhales. Shepard wraps his arms around him. A few hours ago, the future had felt so bleak. As empty as the space between all those stars.

Leave it to Shepard to shine bright enough to fill up the gaps.

“Thanks,” Kaidan murmurs.

“For what?”

“For not turning me away that day.”

The gravity well hums as Shepard leans in and kisses him again, the way it only does when their fields collide.

“Thank you…for staying.”

#swaps replies #Anonymous #mass effect #mshenko #kaidan alenko #otp: after all this time #my fic #opus!verse #well #opus!multiverse #first kiss au

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