#fic coming later to celebrate

[4ranghaes]

yo why tf am i under martial law rn……..

[brzatto]

i remember distinctly at some point i promised myself i would finish blue chicago moon before my birthday (lmfao) and now it is my birthday .. and unfortunately it’s been weeks since i’ve touched a google doc in general much less that fic but to celebrate i’m posting an excerpt from a later part in the fic i’ve had written out for a while now. enjoy ^_^

They’re laying in bed together, after, the way that’s become more casual as of late, more natural; they take turns taking drags from the same cigarette.

Carmy’s telling some story, “And then Pete—”

Richie interrupts him with an exaggerated scoff, rolling his eyes, and Carmy smacks him on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “I know, I know, stop it—but Pete’s not bad. Really. He can be cool, sometimes, like actually cool—”

Richie groans, rolling away from Carmy, except the bed’s too small for him to go anywhere, so he really just turns onto his other side—Carmy rolls after him, propping himself onto his elbows so he can wrestle Richie onto his back, stubbornly crossing his arms over Richie’s chest and leaning his weight onto him to keep him there; he reaches over to crush the rest of the cigarette into the ashtray. “I’m serious, Pete’s not that bad, and maybe if you’d actually give him a chance or opened up to him a bit more Sugar wouldn’t hate you as much—”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault that Sugar hates me? When have I ever given a shit about what she thinks?” Richie gripes, and Carmy rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t actually, you know. You just have a tendency of being a complete and utter piece of shit—”

“What, is she still fuckin’ mad at me for that one time—”

“You mean when you said women shouldn’t run for office,” Carmy interrupts him flatly.

“That was a fucking joke! And it was, like, twelve years ago! I love women in office! I fuckin’ voted for Hillary in 2016—” he ignores when Carmy snorts in his face, incredulous, “—and maybe if she actually had a sense of humor sometimes she wouldn’t have ended up marrying that goddamn fucking narc. Has the personality of fuckin’ wet tissue paper. You know how many times he’s tried inviting me over for a fuckin’ family barbecue or some shit like that? Like I’m the one who actually needs an invitation. Probably just trying to trick me into making friendship bracelets with him while watching Paw Patrol or some other fuckin’ propaganda—”

Richie’s rant continues, and it’s so ridiculous that Carmy can’t help the genuine laughter that bubbles out of him at the mental image of it, ducking his face into his arms to hide his smile; except Richie’s caught on and started laughing, too, chest rumbling beneath Carmy’s weight, and it honestly surprises him, how at ease he feels. Naked under the covers, lying on top of Richie of all people, and he’s actually laughing.

Carmy doesn’t really use the word happy to describe how he feels because he thinks it’s too loaded, too precarious, too complex. He doesn’t want to say he’s happy because the notion is difficult for him to pinpoint, and even when he does it usually doesn’t last too long anyways—but he feels… light. All of his usual heaviness absent for once. He feels good.

When he brings his face back up he finds Richie already looking at him, focused on his face, the trace of a smile still present in the curve of his lips, and Carmy can’t tell what the emotion in his eyes is but it looks a little bit like—marvel. It’s the same way Marcus looks at the pages he’d printed out of Carmy’s cookbook, carefully and lovingly taped onto the wall of his station, the fascination of discovering something new, of resonating with it; and Carmy doesn’t know what to do with that.

But then Richie’s eyes fall a bit, fixing themselves on a specific part of his face—Richie’s hand comes up to cup it, nothing unusual by now, but Carmy’s overcome by the warmth he still feels in his chest at the touch, this simple intimacy. Richie’s palm is familiar and calloused around his cheek, and it makes Carmy want to lean into it.

“What’s this from?” Richie murmurs questioningly, running the pad of his thumb gently down the skin of his cheek, just below his right eye, and it takes a moment for Carmy to realize he’s talking about his scar. “Fall into a barbecue again?”

Carmy huffs, half amused. “No. No, uh… it’s stupid. Happened while I was drunk, years ago. Back in New York, when I first left.”

Richie raises his eyebrows at that. “What, you actually got into a fuckin’ fight? I mean, sounds dope, but having a sick ass battle scar on your face isn’t really in character for you, no offense.”

Carmy rolls his eyes. “No, it wasn’t a fight—I… was drinking, and it was kind of just something I did, in the very beginning, I guess. In my downtime, by myself in my apartment because it wasn’t like I had any friends or anything better to do, and it was just supposed to be a way to keep myself occupied. Get me to fall asleep faster, if anything, so I wouldn’t fucking lie awake in bed all night thinking about shit. Except that time it backfired on me, because I got—” Carmy breathes out through his nose, an almost amused, self-deprecating laugh, “So drunk, and all I could think about was—Mikey.

“And I was just so fucking upset. I felt hurt, you know. Had been hurt for the whole past year, and I’d deleted Mikey’s number off my phone months ago so I wouldn’t do anything monumentally fucking stupid like call him while I was drunk or something. And I think I was just… fed up, at that point. I was so fuckin’ angry, at Mikey, at myself, at everyone that I just… kind of had this meltdown. Nearly trashed my whole fuckin’ apartment. Was breaking shit, throwing shit around, and when it was over I found myself in my bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror for the longest time. And I hated what I saw, because it didn’t feel like me. I never felt like myself back then. Didn’t know who I was supposed to be without Mikey and Sugar and everybody else around, and I hated that about me.

“And eventually all I could think about was—” Carmy cuts himself off, thinking about the words. How to say them. “How much I needed… a change. How much I wanted to. But I think I took that a little too literally, or maybe I just wasn’t fucking thinking at all, because I just… slammed my face into the mirror, as hard as I could. Like I was in a fuckin’ movie or something, you know. And there was all this fuckin’ glass, blood everywhere, my face totally fucked, all that shit. It was a mess. I could barely fucking see.”

Richie watches him recount the story with quiet intensity, and even though Carmy doesn’t look back at him he can feel Richie’s eyes on his face, gaze intent. But it doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable, or awkward, or exposed, the way having someone’s undivided attention usually makes him feel. In the moment, he simply just feels listened to. Richie’s watching him, but Carmy doesn’t feel watched; just seen.

“So what happened after? Just bled out all over your fuckin’ floor?”

Carmy huffs. “No, I, uh… had to take myself to the hospital. It was, like, three in the morning. Got four stitches out of it, and still showed up to work the next day.”

He’s expecting Richie to make fun of him, honestly. And why wouldn’t he? He thinks it might just be because of the good mood he’s in, but Carmy’s surprised to find that he doesn’t feel any residual bitterness recalling the memory. Thinks if he were anybody else he’d laugh at himself, too.

Richie doesn’t make fun of him, though. “That might actually be the most hardcore shit you’ve ever told me.” Richie sniffs. “Almost as hardcore as walking off a stab wound, anyways. You’re getting there.”

Carmy actually laughs, the memory of it amusing now that it’s all behind him. It seems fucking ridiculous, looking back on it now. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like a lifetime ago; when he tries to think about it now, he feels like a spectator of his own life, watching the events unfold from someone else's perspective, or like standing from the outside and looking in. He gets that feeling a lot, Carmy thinks.

“You know, I never actually asked you about that. Were you good? Like, was the wound deep, or…”

“Gee, thanks for the concern. Not like it happened, like, six fuckin’ months ago. Glad to know I mean so much to you.”

“Shut up and just tell me. And you probably really did fucking deserve it.”

Richie scoffs. “Couldn’t fucking tell you. Hurt like a goddamn bitch when it happened, though. Got Ebra to patch me up. Couldn’t sit right for a couple weeks, but it was whatever.” He sniffs. “At least it was somewhere people don’t see it. Not sure if that’ll make for a cool scar story in the future.”

“What, like mine was?”

“Nah, yours is just depressing. Do me a favor—next time somebody asks, just tell them you got it in a bar fight like a normal person.” Richie says, and then after a pause, “That why you don’t drink?”

It’s this question that finally makes Carmy feel embarrassed for some reason, glancing up at the ceiling. “Something like that.”

“Damn. And I thought Mikey was the one who was fucked up.”

Carmy laughs a little again, in spite of everything, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well. Guess it runs through the fuckin’ family.”

“They call you guys the Bears for a reason,” Richie says simply. But he still has his hand on Carmy’s face, running his thumb over his scar absentmindedly, like trying to soothe away pain that hasn’t been there for years. It’s a subtle sort of intimacy, quiet and tender. It’s Richie’s touch and not the recollection that makes Carmy’s chest prickle, and he wonders briefly if this is something he ever did with Mikey: lying in the dark, listening to each others’ stories, touching without thinking about it.

He wonders if this is how Richie treats those he cares the most about, or maybe if he’s just gotten close enough to be able to experience this side of him. If this is what it’s like to be Richie’s best friend, to trust someone wholeheartedly, sharing moments that are quiet and intimate and vulnerable.

“Alright,” Richie continues, making Carmy glance up. “Your turn.”

Carmy looks at him quizzically. “My turn for what?”

“Ask me something. Nothing off limits, everything on the table. You shared something about yourself so it’s only natural for me to do the same.”

Carmy frowns a little at this, if only because the notion is strange to him. It’s not like he’s never been open and honest with Richie before—in fact, those moments have been occurring more often than he’d honestly like to admit—but it feels different, this way. To be given the opportunity, no holds barred, because usually Carmy refrains from ever prying too deep; not just with Richie, but with everybody.

He rolls off Richie’s chest back onto the bed, lying on his side with his head propped in his hand as he considers. Richie is surprisingly patient for once, offering him the silence to think, and the whole thing honestly just makes Carmy flustered.

“Is there…” Carmy starts uncertainly, hesitating, but continues when Richie turns to him, expectant. “Is there a reason why you keep your ring?”

Richie stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending, before glancing down at the golden wedding band on his finger, like he’d forgotten that it was there, like he didn’t even know he was wearing it. Then his expression twists, incredulous, like he can’t believe that out of all the things Carmy could’ve possibly asked him about it’s his goddamn wedding ring.

“Why, does it make you jealous or something?” Richie teases him. “Does it make you feel like you’re my mistress?”

Carmy’s face turns hot, but he tells himself it’s out of annoyance rather than embarrassment. “You know what? Forget I asked.”

Richie chuckles, running his knuckles over Carmy’s side placatingly. “Nah, nah, I’m kidding. Uh… if I’m being honest, it’s, like, a distraction. Something for me to worry with. I stopped wearing it after me and Tiff split, but I started wearing it again after Mikey. I dunno. I guess after he died it felt like… nothing was right. Just everything gone to complete shit, and the ring just felt familiar. Like, having it there reminded me of this time in my life where I kind of, sort of had things together, and I guess I just wanted to feel that way again somehow, even if in reality it’s the complete fuckin’ opposite.”

Carmy nods slowly. In a sense, he thinks he gets it. Clinging onto that sense of familiarity; needing the illusion of stability in his life. He understands him.

[helianskies]

welp. 1 day back in england and im already writing again. mwahahahaha

[sailorsallyart]

Hellers gather around, it’s Destiel Pride Month! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

More info under the cut ⬇️

It's no secret that this is the Destiel website and I am a Destiel girlie. For years I've wanted to host an event that would let us come together to celebrate Dean & Cas and their queerness. This June seems the perfect time to finally commit to it! 

I know the Destiel fandom hasn't had it easy over the years - we've been called many things from delusional to perverted but the truth is that Dean & Cas' love is beautiful and deserves to be celebrated, openly and fiercly!  So let's celebrate! 💚💙

Here are 30 prompts for the 30 days in June.

All types of creations - art, fic, edits, gif sets etc. are welcome! 

You can post on the day of the prompt or later during the entire month of June. No need to do all of the prompts, pick and choose at your own pace!

Please use the tag #destielpride to make sure I won’t miss any of your wonderful creations 😊

*N*S*F*W content is allowed as long as it's tagged with #destielpridensfw in addition to the main tag. 

For creators under 18: please refrain from posting works that aren't SFW.

(Even though this is meant to be a Destiel centric event, everyone is welcome to join & use the prompts to create works for other SPN pairs or even for other fandoms.)

I'm looking forward to seeing everyone spread some Destiel love over the next month. Oh and happy pride! 🌈

[theonottsbxtch]

BABY, BABY | MV1

an: max verstappen you are a four time world champion!!! here's a little fic to celebrate that. i started writing it while watching the race, then had to mourn the loss of the battle then went back to writing it and my back hurts because my posture is shit. anyway enjoy!!

wc: 3.3k

Max Verstappen lived for speed. The roar of the engine, the blur of the track, the thunderous applause of the crowd—this was his kingdom. At twenty-seven, he was already a legend, a three-time Formula One World Champion whose name was etched into the annals of the sport. And this season? It was shaping up to be another triumph. Four wins in the first five races, podium finishes for all of them, and whispers in the paddock that he was untouchable.

He had every reason to be confident. The car was a beast—precision-engineered, relentless in its power. His team was operating like clockwork, every pit stop a perfectly executed ballet. But above all, she was there. His fiancée. She didn’t need to speak to make her presence known; her calm, unwavering gaze from the paddock was like a talisman. He could feel her watching, believing in him, and it drove him forward.

After his most recent victory in Japan, he leaned against the garage wall, sweat still beading on his forehead. She approached him, her smile soft and private, meant just for him. The cameras flashed around them, capturing their moment, but he hardly noticed.

“You’re unstoppable,” she murmured, low enough that only he could hear.

“For you? Always,” he replied, brushing a gloved hand over her cheek before he was whisked away to interviews.

Everything was perfect. The season was his to lose, and he had no intention of letting that happen.

Six races later, the Max Verstappen that stood on the grid in Barcelona was not the same man who had claimed victory in Japan. His car was still strong, and his team still flawless. But the man behind the wheel was... distracted.

The cracks had started to show at the Monaco Grand Prix. A clumsy lock-up during qualifying left him sixth on the grid. In Hungary, he was slow off the line and struggled to match the pace of the leaders, finishing fifth.

The press was quick to pounce.

“What’s happening to Verstappen?” the headlines screamed.

Max shrugged it off, his trademark confidence still on display. “It’s the car,” he said with a wry smile after Hungary. “We’re making adjustments. It’ll come good.”

It was a convenient excuse, one his team begrudgingly accepted because of who he was. But the truth was far more complex—and far more personal.

She wasn’t here.

She hadn’t been at the last couple of races. At first, she’d said she wasn’t feeling well, and Max had brushed it off. But then the phone call came.

“I’m pregnant,” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. “I—I want to tell you in person, but I don’t think I can travel.”

In that moment, his world shifted. Joy, fear, and an overwhelming need to protect her collided in his chest. The image of her radiant on their wedding day-to-be now came with another—her cradling a newborn, their newborn. And with that came a thousand anxieties he’d never anticipated.

At every moment since, his thoughts weren’t on the track but on her. Was she eating enough? Was she getting rest? What if something went wrong, and he wasn’t there?

But no one knew. Not his team, not the press, not even his closest rivals. To them, Max Verstappen was still the king of the circuit. He could never let them see otherwise.

It was lap 32 of the Hungarian Grand Prix, and Max was battling for third with Charles. The two cars screamed through the corners, inches apart, but Max hesitated. He felt it—his grip loosened, his focus wavered. For the first time in his career, he wasn’t sure he could make the move stick.

Charles darted ahead, and Max watched as the gap widened. His engineer’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Max, you’re losing time in Sector 2. What’s going on?”

“Just the car,” he lied, jaw tight. “It’s sluggish through the corners.”

He crossed the finish line in fourth. As he stepped out of the car, he pulled off his helmet, running a hand through sweat-soaked hair. The cameras were on him, the journalists waiting. But all he could think about was her.

He needed to call. To hear her voice. To know she was okay.

The season was far from over, but the battle raging within Max was one he’d never prepared for. And as he watched his championship hopes start to slip through his fingers, he knew one thing for certain: no race, no trophy, no accolade mattered more than the life he was about to build off the track.

The Belgian Grand Prix was a race Max Verstappen wanted to forget. He’d spent the entire weekend battling the car—or so he told anyone who asked. But deep down, he knew the problem wasn’t mechanical. The fault lay within himself, his mind a chaotic swirl of worry and love that refused to quiet, no matter how fast he drove.

When he was finally allowed to go back to the hotel, the first thing he wanted to do was go home. Not the sprawling apartment in Monaco that everyone assumed was his sanctuary, but the smaller, quieter house tucked away in the English countryside. The place where she was.

It was just after midnight when his car pulled into the gravel driveway. The house was dark except for the soft glow of a single lamp in the living room window. She always left it on for him. He slipped inside quietly, leaving his suitcase in the car.

She was asleep, of course. Seven months pregnant and glowing with a beauty that stole his breath even in her most unguarded moments. He found her curled on her side in their bed, one hand resting protectively over her rounded belly. Max dropped his coat on the chair and toed off his shoes before slipping into the bed beside her.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, careful not to wake her, and then rested his head gently against her belly. The warmth of her skin, the faint, rhythmic thrum of her breathing, and the thought of the tiny life growing inside her—it was everything he needed to feel whole again.

“Hi, little one,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with wonder. “It’s me. I’m finally home.”

As if in response, there was a small kick against his cheek. Max grinned, a tear slipping down his face as he chuckled quietly.

“Already a fighter,” he murmured. “Just like your mum.”

Her hand came to rest in his hair, threading through the blonde strands. He startled slightly, realising she was awake, her sleepy smile illuminated by the faint moonlight streaming through the window.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Always,” he replied, turning his head to kiss her palm. “How are you feeling? How’s our little champion?”

“Both fine,” she reassured him. “We missed you.”

“I missed you more,” he said, shifting up to lie beside her, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. His hand settled over hers on her belly, and they stayed like that for a long moment, the world outside forgotten.

The days that followed were a gift—a rare stretch of time without races, press obligations, or the relentless demands of the championship fight. They spent their mornings in the garden, her feet propped up on his lap while he read aloud from the parenting books she’d stacked on the table. Afternoons were lazy, filled with naps, quiet conversations, and the occasional moment when he leaned down to kiss her belly and whisper to their unborn child.

One evening, as they sat together on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, she turned to him with a thoughtful look.

“You should tell them,” she said softly.

“Tell who what?” he asked, though he already knew.

“Your team. The press. Everyone.” She tilted her head, watching him carefully. “You’ve been carrying this alone for too long. They’ll understand.”

Max sighed, leaning back against the cushions and closing his eyes. “I like it like this,” he said after a moment. “It’s ours. Just ours. I don’t want them to turn this into... headlines or speculation. I want to keep it safe.”

She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. “You’re not just keeping it safe, love. You’re keeping it locked away. And it’s hurting you.”

He kissed her forehead, a slow, lingering gesture that spoke more than words could. “It’s not hurting me. It’s the only thing keeping me sane. When I’m out there, and it’s all chaos and noise, this is what I hold onto. You. Our little one. It’s my anchor.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned into him, her hand resting lightly on his chest. “You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide. But you don’t have to carry this alone.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “But for now, I want it to stay ours. Just a little longer.”

The break passed too quickly, as it always did, but for Max, it was enough. The air in Austin was electric. Max, back from the summer break and seemingly rejuvenated, had shown flashes of his old brilliance in the first half of the race. But a controversial move during a heated battle for second had earned him a twenty-second penalty. The disappointment was palpable.

In the press conference afterward, he faced a barrage of questions, his jaw tight as he fielded them with his usual composure. But his heart wasn’t in it. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and the gnawing ache of being apart was beginning to wear on him.

The penalty stung less than the silence in his hotel room later that night. The upcoming triple-header—Austin, Mexico City, São Paulo—meant there’d be no chance to go home. Three weeks without her, without hearing the steady rhythm of her breathing as she slept beside him or feeling the flutter of their baby’s kicks beneath his hand. He stared at his phone for hours, tempted to call, but stopped himself. She needed rest. He could wait.

The race in São Paulo had just wrapped up. Max won, a result he should’ve been thrilled with, but all he could think about was getting back to England. The charter flight to London felt endless, the hours dragging as he stared out the window, replaying every voicemail she’d left him over the past week. Each one sounded more tired, more distant, and it made his chest tighten with unease.

When he finally arrived home, the house was eerily quiet. He dropped his bags in the hallway, calling out her name. No answer. He checked the bedroom, the nursery—they were empty. Panic began to rise as he pulled out his phone and dialled her number.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft but carried an edge of exhaustion.

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry. “I’m home, and you’re not here.”

“I’m at my mum’s,” she replied.

“Why?” His voice dropped, laced with confusion. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, a beat of silence that stretched too long. And then, she said it.

“I had the baby.”

The words hit him like a jolt. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. “You what?” he whispered, as though saying it louder would make it less real.

“I had the baby,” she repeated, her tone gentle, but firm. “Two weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice a mix of hurt and disbelief.

“You had a job to do, Max,” she said softly. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Distract me?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the kitchen. “You’re my family. How could you think I wouldn’t drop everything to be there?”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “But I also know you. You’ve been carrying so much this season, and I didn’t want to add to it. You were halfway across the world, love. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her that she was wrong, that he would’ve found a way. But deep down, he understood. She was protecting him in her own way, just as he always tried to protect her.

“Is he... okay?” he asked finally, his voice softening.

“He’s perfect,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Healthy and beautiful. I wanted to surprise you when you got home, but we needed a bit of extra help, so I came here.”

“I’m coming now,” he said immediately. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The drive to her mother’s house felt like an eternity. When he finally pulled into the driveway, he barely remembered turning off the car before he was at the front door. Her mother greeted him with a warm smile and a quiet, “She’s upstairs.”

He took the steps two at a time, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the bedroom, he paused in the doorway.

She was sitting on the bed, her hair tied back loosely, her face glowing with a tired kind of happiness. And in her arms, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, was their son.

Max stepped inside slowly, his breath catching as he took in the sight. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice almost trembling.

“Hi,” she replied, smiling up at him. “Come meet him.”

He crossed the room, sitting beside her on the bed. She shifted the baby gently, placing him into Max’s waiting arms. For a moment, he could only stare.

Tiny fingers peeked out from the blanket, curling slightly as the baby let out a soft sigh. His nose, his chin—so small, so perfect.

“What’s his name?” Max asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We agreed on Emilian,” she said, her eyes shining. “Emilian Lucian Verstappen.”

He looked up at her, his throat tight with emotion. “You gave him my name?”

“Of course,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. “You’re his dad. And he’s going to know how much you love him, even when you’re halfway across the world.”

Max pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “Both of you. More than anything.”

As Emilian stirred slightly in his arms, Max smiled. He’d missed the moment of his son’s birth, something he’d carry with him always. But here, holding his son for the first time, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

For two precious weeks, Max stayed home. It was just him, her, and Emilian. Those days blurred into a haze of quiet moments—feeding, changing, and rocking his son to sleep. He wasn’t just a racing legend at home; he was a father, learning the delicate art of swaddling and singing lullabies off-key at three in the morning.

His fiancée was radiant, even in her moments of exhaustion. Max found himself watching her more than ever, in awe of her strength. At night, they talked in whispers, Emilian nestled between them in a bassinet. For once, the championship felt like a distant dream.

But as the days passed, reality crept back in. The Las Vegas Grand Prix was the next race and the stakes couldn’t be higher. His rival, Lando Norris, was trailing him by just a decent amount of points, but if Max bottled it, it wouldn’t go well for his title. A strong finish could secure Max his fourth championship, but it would be a fight to the very last lap.

The night before his flight to Vegas, Max sat beside her on the couch, Emilian cradled in his arms. He had spent the entire day rehearsing his pitch, trying to strike the perfect balance of persuasion and sensitivity.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual, “Vegas is going to be a big deal. Probably the biggest race of my career.”

She glanced up from her tea, raising an eyebrow. “I thought every race was the biggest of your career.”

“This is different,” he said, grinning. “If I beat Lando by a certain amount of points, I get the title. My fourth title.”

Her smile softened. “I know. And you will. You always find a way.”

He hesitated, bouncing Emilian gently as the baby dozed. “Come with me,” he said suddenly.

Her eyes widened. “Max—���

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he cut in quickly, “and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle it. But the doctors said you’re fit to fly, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Please,” he said, his voice earnest. “I need you there. Both of you. It’s an important race. The biggest one maybe. And I want to share it with my family.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. He could see the worry in her eyes, the motherly instinct to keep their baby safe and away from the chaos of the paddock. But then he reached for her hand.

“Win or lose, none of it matters without you. You and Emilian are everything to me. And if I do win... I want you there to celebrate. I want the world to see what really matters.”

After a long pause, she sighed, her resolve softening. “Fine. But only if you promise to keep us far away from the press circus until it’s over.”

He grinned, leaning over to kiss her. “Deal.”

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a spectacle like no other. The bright lights, the roaring crowd, and the tension in the paddock made it a night to remember. Max felt his nerves hum as he stepped into the garage, but knowing she and Emilian were somewhere safe in the hospitality suite calmed him.

The race was brutal. Max fought tooth and nail, battling it out with Charles and Lewis in a chaotic, tire-shredding 50 laps. In the end, he crossed the line in fifth place.

For a moment, he thought it wasn’t enough. But then Christian’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Max Verstappen, you are a four-time world champion!”

Relief and joy flooded through him, and he punched the air, his voice shaking with emotion as he shouted his thanks into the radio. The garage erupted in cheers, but Max’s mind was already on her and Emilian.

As the celebrations began, he climbed out of the car, waving to the crowd before pulling off his helmet. He turned toward the pit lane and froze.

There she was, standing at the edge of the barriers, Emilian in her arms. They were both wearing ear defenders, her smile wide and proud. Emilian’s tiny shirt caught his eye, and his heart melted:

My daddy is a 4-time world champion.

He laughed, running over to them as the cameras swarmed. When he reached her, he didn’t hesitate, pulling her into a deep kiss. The crowd roared, and the cameras clicked furiously, but he didn’t care.

He looked down at his son, who blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. Carefully, Max took him into his arms, holding him close.

“Hey, little man,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “Your daddy did it.”

Emilian gurgled in response, and Max’s grin widened.

For the first time, the world saw Max Verstappen not just as a champion, but as a father. The images of him holding his son, his fiancée beside him, spread like wildfire. The press clamoured for details, but Max ignored them, too lost in the moment to care.

“This is your victory too,” he said to her, his voice quiet. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her smile radiant. “We’re so proud of you.”

As the champagne sprayed and the cheers echoed around them, Max knew this was the pinnacle of his career—not the trophy, not the title, but the family he held in his arms.

the end.

[theetherealbloom]

Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

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OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.  

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.  

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.  

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.  

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.  

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”  

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.  

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.  

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.  

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”  

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.  

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”  

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”  

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.  

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.  

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.  

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.  

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.  

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”  

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”  

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”  

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.  

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”  

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”  

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.  

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.  

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.  

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.  

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.  

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”  

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.  

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”  

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.  

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON  

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.  

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.  

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”  

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.  

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.  

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.  

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.  

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.  

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”  

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.  

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”  

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”  

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”  

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”  

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.  

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”  

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”  

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.  

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”  

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”  

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”  

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”  

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”  

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”  

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”  

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.  

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”  

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”  

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”  

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”  

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING  

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.  

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.  

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.  

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.  

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”  

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.  

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”  

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.  

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.  

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.  

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.  

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.  

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”  

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.  

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.  

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.  

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.  

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”  

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.  

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.  

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”  

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.  

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”  

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.  

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”  

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”  

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.  

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.  

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.  

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.  

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.  

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.  

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him. 

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions. 

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go. 

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home. 

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close. 

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up. 

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave. 

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.  

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.  

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.  

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.  

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.  

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”  

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.  

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”  

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”  

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.  

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.  

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.  

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.  

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.  

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.  

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.  

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.  

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”  

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.  

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.  

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.  

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.  

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.  

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.  

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”  

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.  

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”  

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”  

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”  

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”  

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.  

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”  

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”  

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”  

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”  

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”  

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”  

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.  

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”  

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”  

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.  

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.  

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.  

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

[gontagokuhara]

my child is turning 5 and starting kindergarten today everyone please say congratulations. and also happy birthday kokichi

the first chapter of my danganronpa/percy jackson au is up! im super happy w how it turned out and im so excited to get this thing up and running! if you’d be so kind as to give it a read, i’d be very grateful!

😳 reblogs > likes 😳

[drcranessweetestdoe]

heyyyyy

could you do a Tommy shelby fic?

in which he fucks Ada's bestfriend when she is 18!

hii, love this idea xx I have been writing this all day, time to celebrate with a jam sandwich:) xx

Finally mine

warning: agegap!, Thomas lusts after her while she is underage, grooming, virginity loss, virginity kink, innocence kink, unprotected sex, Tommy being a softie, possessiveness

pairing: Thomas Shelby x Innocent!Reader

summary: ever since he came back from the war, Tommy found himself wanting his sister’s lovely and sweet best friend, too bad he has to wait until she is 18

(Y/N) was the sweetest girl in the whole of Birmingham, always polite and kind. Thomas was smitten with her from day one. She and Ada met in school, she felt sorry that Ada was always alone, because everyone told their kids to stay away from the filthy Shelby’s. So, one day she gathered the courage and sat beside the sad girl, who was very excited to finally have a friend.

It was the age of war, so everyone was always on the edge of a meltdown. And money wasn’t exactly falling from the sky. While (Y/N)’s family weren’t considered aristocrats by any chance, she never had to worry about not getting fed, or not having a warm bed to sleep in. That was something that the Shelby’s couldn’t exactly relate to, there was little money and quite a few mouths to feed. Aunt Polly tried her best to feed the hungry children at the table, but she was failing more and succeeding less. Her sister-in-law’s three big boys were away at war, but they were always talked about.

One day, the thirteen year old (Y/N) plopped down beside her best friend Ada with a full lunch box in hand. She always had lunch packed with her, but Ada never did. For a long time, she just assumed that the malnourished girl was not hungry in school. While she was munching on her apple, she heard the growl of a hungry belly and Ada turned her head down in shame. While a girl is naive at 13, (Y/N) immediately knew that her friend was hungry, and that she probably didn’t get as much food at home as she did. When Ada looked back at her, she reacted with a wide smile to the outstretched hand towards her, holding a big red apple.

For the rest of the break, they just sat under their tree, silently chewing on their apples, with a smile on both faces.

That is how Ada knew that (Y/N) was going to be her lifelong best friend. She opened up to her when they were sharing a cigarette on the edge of the forest.

“We had more money before the war, if Tommy was here he would make sure that we have food.” Ada explained.

(Y/N) just blinked at her friend. “Who’s Tommy?”

———-

Three years later, the girls were now sixteen and the war was finally over. Because (Y/N) herself didn’t have any brothers, or sisters, she didn’t know how many families waited for this day to come.

It was a pretty summer day, and she made her way to the Shelby household, where she was always welcomed by Aunt Polly. Except, when she walked into the house, there was only one man sitting at the table. Her breath got stuck in her throat and she blushed heavily, he was very handsome. For a moment she believed that she walked into the wrong house, but the photographs on the walls proved otherwise. He was smoking a cigarette and staring at the wall blankly, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear her come in.

Thomas just wanted a moment to himself in his childhood house before going back to the Garrison, he was not the same man anymore. Suddenly, he saw a figure in the corner of his eye. A second later, the two pairs of eyes met. His previously sad eyes lit up at the sight of her, but he tried to conceal it. She was so beautiful… Slender and weakish frame, something that made him eager to protect her. Her long and soft looking hair. And that face, oh god, that pretty face.

“H-Hi… I’m (Y/N).” She walked closer to him and stuck her hand out for him, she recognized him from the pictures, he was one of Ada’s brothers.

He heard about her, Aunt Pol always told him what was happening on Watery Lane in the letters she sent to Tommy. She had mentioned Ada’s lovely friend, multiple times. She told him that the girl was pretty, very kind, and that she went with her to church on Sundays when no one else wanted to, just so Polly didn’t have to go alone.

Tommy smiled at her, and she felt herself get lost in those bright blue gems of eyes. Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it to his lips and planted a little kiss on it. Her hand was soft and warm, it was a while since he felt the touch of a gentle female. He smiled when she blushed more at his kiss. “Thomas Shelby.”

—----

From that day on, Miss (Y/L/N) was under the protection of the Peaky Blinders. Thomas always had one of his men following her and Ada to school, and then back home. It killed him knowing that he couldn’t touch her, make her his, not yet anyway. That would have been immoral and awful, and he knew that aunt Pol would have broken his hand in two and cut off his cock. That didn’t mean he hadn’t spent too many night fucking his fist to the thought of her. Everyone in the Shelby clan could see how soft he was towards her, always making sure that she stays out of the bad things, and whenever she came over and he was working, his eyes basically formed into hearts and followed her everywhere. The family loved her, she enjoyed baking and she always made sure that at least once a week she turned up to the office with home-baked treats. Those kinds of sweet treats calmed everyone down, business was blooming after all.

Ever since Tommy came back from the war, he only let himself be pleasured by whores, the one girl he wanted was the one he had to wait for. He always hired prostitutes that resembled her even the slightest bit. He imagined that he was burying himself inside her wet and warm walls, he overheard her and Ada and he was very well aware that she was untouched, a sweet little virgin. In Small Heath, the girls started sleeping around in their teens, but she, at 17, didn’t care about the boys her age. She wanted a certain gangster, who was nearing his thirties.

He didn’t even claim her yet, but wherever she walked, everyone knew she was Tommy Shelby’s girl. He sent her gifts, and always a handwritten note. Her heart never failed to warm up when she saw the little T.S on the bottom of the cards. Flowers, chocolates, exotic spices that she could put in her sweet treats, jewellery, dresses, everything a 17 year old girl loves. She was spoiled by him. When she wore one of the dresses that he got for her, she always sent him a shy smile and a little nod.

—-----

Tomorrow was going to be the day when she would finally become 18 years old, a young lady. She felt so antsy getting to bed, knowing that she would wake up as an adult. She also deeply hoped that Tommy would do something, after 2 years of gifts, protection and lustful gazes from distance. It was safe to say that her standards were very much heightened.

When she woke up, she noticed a big box on the chair of her vanity, tied up in one of those big ribbons. Her mother must have brought it up for her, as she always did when her daughter’s name was on the box, written by the familiar handwriting.

She was smiling widely when she opened the box up, it had a beautiful silky dress and a gold locket necklace. She marvelled at the divine fabric, but quickly blushed when she looked into the box again. There was a set of white lingerie and a note.

Tonight, I’ll send a car to pick you up at 7pm, be ready.

~T.S

She melted at that, and she felt her lower tummy warm up. This evening, she will finally be claimed.

——-

By the time 7pm rolled around, she did everything she could to make herself look pretty for him. She took a long hot bath, made sure she smelled good everywhere. She washed her hair and tied up half of it with a bow. She put lotion all over herself, sprayed herself with perfume and put the lovely dress on. Sitting in her vanity, she put on some makeup. She felt beautiful.

She got her light coat on, along with kitten heels and she was waiting for his car to come. When it did, she sat in the backseat and greeted the driver.

She got driven to Arrow house, which she only heard about before. It was so huge, and overwhelming, but very nice.

A maid took her coat and escorted her to the dining roomom. Just like the rest of the house, it was quite big, both the room itself and the table. It was decorated elegantly, the candlelight flooded the room. Just as she stepped in, Thomas walked in the room on the other door. He looked so handsome as always, with his muscular frame and his tailored suit.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest, she looked like an angel, and she was standing in his house, wearing his gift. The maid left, now there were only two of them in the room, he walked up to her. With a gentle hand on her waist, he pulled her closer so he could plant a kiss on her cheek and whisper in her ear. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” He got even closer, her head was spinning with him so close, his masculine scent sent her hormones into overdrive. “I hope the dress isn’t the only gift of mine on you.”

He felt his dick twitch when she looked up at him like that, a gentle glint in her eyes. She shaked her head, too lost in his eyes to answer with words. To shake her out of her trance, he guided her to her seat, with his hand still on her slender waist.

He sat next to her, the maids kept on serving the finest of foods. Thomas also brought out a bottle of red wine. Both of them were surprised how easy it was for them to talk. They talked and ate, and Tommy even found himself laughing. He also found out how innocent she was, she wasn’t stupid, just inexperienced, and he was more than happy to give her experience. She also had a big heart, and a gentle soul, she was everything he needed.

While everyone in Small Heath tried to warn her about Thomas Shelby, she never understood why. He was just trying to protect his family and give them a chance at a better life, he was also an absolute softie for her. She could see that he had a lot of love to give, he enjoyed being the leader and defeating other gang leaders, but he must have been craving someone who could take care of him for once, she knew that she wanted to be that person.

When they finished dessert, he pulled her chair closer to his and cradled one of her blushing cheek into his palm.

“Are you aware of my intentions towards you?” He asked in a serious tone, she knew that he wasn’t fooling around. Now or never. She nodded as much as she could with the gentle hold on her face, but he wasn’t having it. “Answer me with words, I want to see if you really want this.” She felt dizzy by hearing his dominating tone.

“Yes, I know your intentions with me.” She replied shyly.

“What are they?” His fingers started to move her hair out of her face, caressing her in the process.

“Y-You want to make me yours.” She spoke lowly, it was hard to speak when he was looking at her as if he was seconds away from ravaging her.

“Yes, and do you want that, (Y/N)? Do you want me to make you mine?” He was even closer now, he whispered seductively in her ear, his full lips were nearly touching the shell of her ear. “Just say the word, sweetheart, and I will give you everything you crave. Please, let me give you the world.” Thomas Shelby barely used the word ‘please’, but he was nearly begging for her. She almost giggled, as if she really needed much convincing.

“I want it, I want it so bad, Tommy…” She was getting impatient, and he saw it on her.

“Shh, sweetheart… Don’t let your pretty head worry, I’m going to take care of you so nicely.” He stood up and stuck his hand out for her to take. “Come.”

He walked with her to his bedroom, she was walking behind him so she couldn’t see the wicked grin on his lips. When they stepped in the door, he just kept on walking, which caused her to walk backwards, until her knees hit the bed and she had fallen down on it.

He didn’t waste a second and crawled on top of her, his lips slowly finding hers. Their kiss started out slow, he guided her lips with his own. After a few minutes, noticing that she was starting to become more and more confident, he slipped his tongue into her open mouth. His hand wandered to her back, where the zipper was, his head pulled away so he could ask for silent permission. Once he got it, he helped her sit up and he removed the dress. Sitting back on his heels, he admired the sight in front of him, her young body was just begging to be ruined. She was wearing the lace, she looked exactly like an angel. His lips glued themselves to her neck and they sucked and bit, her noises were proof that she was enjoying his touch. He made sure to really mark her up, she wasn’t going to leave his mansion for a while, he needed his time with his new prize. She bit down on her lips to hide her moans, something he growled at.

“Don’t you dare. I want to hear you, don’t hold back, sweetheart.”

He went down to her breasts, he also reached under her arched back and unclasped her bra. She tried to cover herself, but he was having none of it. He slowly unpeeled her arms from her chest and kissed all around her breasts. “How beautiful! Such a nice pair of tits you have, the best I’ve seen.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth and she mewled loudly, she didn’t expect to feel so aroused while getting her nipples sucked at. He made sure that he gave both of her tits the same treatment before going lower.

Before he could do more, he stood up to remove his shirt and pants, her presence was making him hotter by the minute. He hooked his fingers into her panties and his cock nearly tore his underwear when he saw how the crotch was stuck to her entrance. She was already so ready for him. He yanked harder and they finally parted, he brought her panties up to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Mhm, so sweet… But, I think I need to feel this from the source.” Tommy dropped to his knees in front of her spread legs, her mind was making her doubt herself. What if she looked ugly down there? What if it smelled or tasted b—

“OH— Tommy!” She moaned loudly when his tongue licked a long stripe up her slit. He just chuckled into her pussy darkly, then he moved on to her pleasure. His mouth was sucking her throbbing clit, his fingers slowly circled her entrance, teasing her.

“Fuck… Your cunt tastes divine, and it’s only for my mouth to taste.” It wasn’t even a question. She was unable to form a coherent sentence, she could only moan and thrash on his tongue. He took one finger and he slowly eased it into her, she was so wet that it slipped right into her, he didn’t hesitate to add another one. “You’re going so good, I cannot wait to feel this tight virgin pussy on my cock.” He curled his fingers and rubbed them right into her spongy spot, her fingers grabbed his hair and tried to push his face more into her heat. He felt her clenching more and more, so he sped up his movements and grinned proudly when she came undone with a whiny moan and a desperate call of his name.

He kissed his way back up to her heaving chest and looked up at her flushed face. He talked her through it, until her breathing evened out again. He slowly slipped his underwear off, his back straightened out for her to see his big cock. It was veiny and thick and it made her nervous. He kept her legs spread, while he kneeled between them, one of his hand smoothing her face and the other one gripped himself at his base. “Want to give a little touch? Don’t be scared, I’m going to make this very pleasurable for you, my sweet girl.” He hissed when her fingertips made contact with his dripping tip, he was so pent up and her soft touch nearly made him blow his load all over her juicy tits, but he had to stay patient. “Are you ready? Ready to become mine?”

“Yes, Tommy, please, I want to feel you. I-I waited for you.” This caused him to grin and give her a deep kiss.

“I know you did, little one.” He positioned himself at her entrance and he slowly began pushing in, he felt a bit of resistance, but with a sharp thrust, he managed to break through it. He wrapped her up in his arms and whispered sweet nothings into her ear soothingly. “I know, I know. It will feel better in a minute, your pussy just has to adjust to my cock. Relax.” It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, but it still did, the girls in her class made it sound worse, or maybe their boyfriends didn’t take the time to prep them properly. That made her so proud, her Tommy made sure she was ready. She tried her best to relax her muscles and she felt the pain lessen. She planted a shy kiss on Tommy’s neck at which he chuckled at. “Good girl. You’re mine now, only mine.” He slowly began moving in and out of her.

Her walls gripped on him like a vice, he didn’t need any whores anymore, he had her now. His hands lifted her hips up a bit, so his cock was hitting her spot at every thrust. He went more and more faster, his fingers also began rubbing on her swollen clitoris.

“AH— Tommy, I’m going to—do that thing again.” His innocent little girl, so good for him.

“Good… I can feel you squeeze me, come on, sweet girl, come for me. Come on my cock. Let me fill you up. Let me make you mine.” With a shout of his name and a cry, she came around him. When he felt her walls pulsing around him, he let go too. His warm cum painted her walls, and it was such a delicious sensation. He stayed inside her for a few minutes, both of them trying to catch their breaths.

When he pulled out, he sat back so he could watch his cum leak out of her spent hole. He looked down proudly at his softening cock, which had some of her blood on it. Shit, he really filled her up with his load, there was so much of it. And the whiteness of him and the dark crimson of her virginity made such a lovely contrast together.

He took a rag from his bedside table and cleaned her up, making sure that he was gentle with her, the girl just got fucked and she was sensitive both physically and mentally, he had to be gentle.

After he made sure they were both clean, he once again brought her into his embrace. He smiled at her lovingly, which caused her to do the same. Her hair was all puffy from his touch, but he loved it.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He cradled her cheek, and caressed her under eye area with his fingertip.

“I’m good, I feel a bit sore, but it’s okay.” She nuzzled into his neck and left little kisses. “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

He smiled in a way he didn’t for a long time, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. He wanted to give the world to the girl in his arms, and he felt the primal urge to protect her and keep her away from all the bad. “Me too. I’m happy to know that you’re finally mine.”

taglist: @your-nanas-house

[angelfrombeneth]

JUST LIKE YOUR BOYFRIEND - T . NOTT

Mature Content Ahead

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Theodore are the new IT couple in Hogwarts. Theo's known for always causing up a stir but never you. Atleast you do yours in private. It isn't until your faced with Skylar Snaggle, the one girl you can't stand that you break that streak.

Warnings: Girl Fight, Smut talked about but not in detail, Blood kink Theo if you squint, Fluffy Theo and Reader, Soft boyfriend Theo

A/N: This isn't a huge fic more of a short. Merry Christmas to you all and those who don't celebrate it, I hope ur having a lovely day anyway!

Y/N Neveah. Many people loved you, many people didn't.

You were always the talk of the school for being so nice yet being in Slytherin. Boys fawned over you, some girls loved you but most hated you. School bitchiness was not for the faint hearted and you learnt that early on.

Skylar Snaggle, a ravenclaw who always had it out for you. It's like she was jealous of you and everything you did. Constantly side eyeing you and digging at you. You ignored her didn't let it get to you but fuck, was she a bitch. It only got worse when you starting dating your boyfriend.

You were in 6th year now, the past two years everytime you'd come back boys again would fawn over you how you've 'blossomed' over the summer but you belonged to one man. And that man was.

"Cara mia" You turned around smiling as Theo stood beside your locker. You took his hand smiling as you pecked his lips softly.

"I missed you... all of you" He raised his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes and hit his arm.

"Don't be crude" You fixed your tie before shutting your locker and holding his hand and walking down the corridor.

You and Theo were the hot new goss at Hogwarts. The current IT couple, consisting of the hot brood of Slytherin himself, Theodore Nott and the much desired but never achievable Y/n Neveah.

"Here's the lovely couple now" Blaise clasps his hands as the group turn to you both.

"Do we have to announce it" You grit your teeth, grimacing at Blaise. You felt Theo chuckled beside you, his soft laugh filling your ears making the corner of your mouth turn up slightly.

"You did that yourself, sucking face in the back of charms" Enzo snickered.

"True- Anyway we were planning on heading into Hogsmead. We need to stock up on fire whisky with the game against Hufflepuff fast approaching we'll need alot for our celebrations" Blaise smirked, nudging at Daphne as she scoffed at his cockiness.

"You guys might not even win" She panned.

"Don't be ridiculous Daph, when has Hufflepuff ever fucking won" Draco let out a genuine laugh at Daphne's wild assumption. The other boys laughing along with him too.

"As much as we'd love to come to Hogsmead. Daph, Pansy and I were planning on meeting with Astoria to have a little girlie evening swim" You smiled to Pansy and Daphne as you all smiled at eachother.

"Boring" Draco yawned.

"Hardly boring Draco, they'll hardly be wearing anything" Mattheo smirked. A alight blush appearing across Theo's cheek at the thought.

Pansy smacked Mattheo hard with her wand into his chest, earing a sharp 'ow' from the boy. "Don't be disgusting"

"Have fun at Hogsmead though!" Pansy giggled as the three of you began to walk off.

"Wait-" Theo grabbed your hand as you turned to him.

"Have fun, be safe" He smiled before pecking your lips.

"Aww cute" Daphne cooed.

You ruffled Theo's hair softly before walking off with the girls.

"You and Theodore are so cute, I'm so jealous!" Pansy whined as the three of you walked down the hall.

"Blaise isn't even cute like that, it sucks!" Daphne groaned.

"Stop it" You shook your head.

Later in the evening you and the girls relaxed by the black lake taking a light swim with eachorher, gossiping and catching up on the latest with one another.

Finding out that Luna and Pansy have been flirting. Astoria is finally willing to settle down with Draco and stop keeping him on his toes. Daphne describing in great detail her intimate life with Blaise which - to be fair you didn't expect to be so spicy between the two of them. The girls wanted to know all about you and Theo but you'd just been taking your time. Despite the slight hook up the night before. But they knew all about that.

"What about Skylar" Pansy questioned as the four of you walked back inside the grounds. All wearing damp tshirts over your swimsuits.

"Don't even- I don't know her fucking problem. Her big mouth is always yapping about something" You snarled.

"Me? Big mouth?" You four snapped your head to see Skylar and her little minions at the top of the stairs inside the entrance.

"Oh fuck off Skylar" You scoffed, reaching the top of the stairs. As your about to walk of you hear-

"You're always running your mouth about something. Maybe focus on the fact your.. I don't know.. a stupid fucking bitch" Skylar smirked to her friends.

You turned to her. Astoria whispering "Lets just go its not worth it"

"Wow Skylar, you really ate me up there" Yiu gasped dramatically holding your heart like you'd be stabbed. "Maybe stop being so fucking obsessed with MY boyfriend. He doesn't want you and your.." You tapped your lip before speaking again. "Well, your little infestation" You smiled.

"INFESTATION? You fucking bitch. THEO IS MINE" She suddenly lunged at you pushing you back harshly.

"Yours? I don't remember him stating that while he was manhandling me last night" You laughed in her face.

It was like it was all in slow motion. As you turned around to walk away, you watched as your friends faces widened staring behind you. You couldn't react fast enough. You felt your ponytail being dragged back as your body harshly recoiled against the pressure.

You turned, locking eyes with Skylar a smirk upon her face as she tugged at your ponytail, lifting her fist to sock a direct punch in your face, splitting your lip.

After that you reached up, grabbing her hair as you yanked at it, swiping at her legs as she dropped on the floor below you, screaming. The corridor was suddenly not so peaceful as both you and Skylar hurled abuse at one another while Pansy, Daphne and Astoria were trying to yank you both apart along with Skylars friends.

You climbed ontop of the girl, stabilising yourself as you socked a punch into her face as she clawed at yours.

"YOU BITCH!" she screamed as she yanked your hair again.

"OW-" you lifted your leg planting your good right in her face as you swung your arm round once more punching her before you heard tons of footsteps yelling and scrambling towards the both of you. You watched as her tooth cracked and slid across the floor as she spat blood up in your face.

"BEAT HER ASS Y/N!" Pansy yelled from behind. Daphne scolding her as the three continued to try and pull you girls apart without falling in the firing line.

Both of you were clawing at one another. You were landing way more than her let's say. Her face was full of blood as you dug your acrylics into her cheek.

You felt yourself harshly being yanked off the girl as you scrambled towards her but being held back. "LET ME AT HER! WHORE!" You screamed.

"MY FACE! YOU.. YOU.. SLUT!" Skylar screamed at she ran off down the hall with her friends.

You felt hands on your face as you turned to be face to face with Theo. You watched as he analysed every aspect of your face, checking if you're ok.

"Teddy- I'm so-"

"Shhh" He placed his finger upon your lip as he took your hand into the bathroom leaving all the rest of your friends stunned at the scene from before.

He sat you upon the sink as he took off his shirt, dampening it before wiping all the blood from your face.

Theo chuckled at the thought of cleaning up after you having a fight. "Look at my girl, getting into fights like her boyfriend" He smirked as he pecked your lips softly.

"I can't help it- she's so obsessed with you Teddy. It's annoying" you scoffed. "Are you sure you didn't fuck her"

"Bella, I told you. You were my first and you'll ne my last" He caressed your face softly.

You smiled at his words as he finished wiping your face up and smiled.

"You did good, only a cut lip. Atta girl" He squeezed your thighs softly as he leaned forward, kissing your nose.

"Learned from the best" You smiled.

"Amore mio.. I love you" He snickered before capturing your lips in his. Softly kissing eachother as his hands held your waist softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you locked your legs around his waist pulling him in closer.

He pulled away, softly sucking on your bottom lip before pulling away and licking his lips before wiping yours with his thumb.

"My little vampire" You cooed as you ruffled his hair chuckling.

"In future if you get in fights let me be there. You looked so hot, but ill always step in after a while. Can't let you actually get beat up" He smiled.

You hit his chest shaking your head as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead.

If you enjoyed this fic and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here!

[theostrophywife]

HEART ON MY SLEEVE

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🤍 pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: friends by chase atlantic.

🤍 author's note: the duality of man. this fic serves both cute, fluffy matty and jealous, possessive mattheo.

For his upcoming birthday, Mattheo Riddle had one simple wish: for his best friends to get along. 

It shouldn’t have been such an ordeal except for the fact that you and Theo absolutely hated each other. If it weren’t for Mattheo, the two of you would have no reason to cross paths. Theo was an arrogant, pompous, quidditch playing prick with a terrible nicotine addiction while the closest you’d come to physical exertion is carrying your weekly stack of books from the library to your dorm. 

Needless to say, you were not a fan of Theodore Nott. You thought he was a bad influence on Matty, while Theo labeled you as the buzzkill, often talking your best friend out of doing things that would either land him in detention or the infirmary. You got the feeling that Theo hated the fact that he had to share Mattheo’s attention with you. Never mind the fact that you were friends with him first. 

The origin of your friendship started long before your days at Hogwarts. The first time you met Mattheo, his father invited you and your parents over at Riddle Manor to celebrate a successful business deal between your families. Even at a young age, you remembered recognizing the coldness and distance in the Riddle household. The elder riddle, Tom Sr., was a stern and unforgiving man who kept his family under his thumb. Tom Jr. played the perfect heir; cool, calm, and collected as he stood by his father’s side. Mrs. Riddle had a severe and somber air about her that sent shivers down your spine as she flashed an empty smile at you. 

Mattheo was different from the rest. There was a warmth to him that radiated outwards, pulling you in with his cheeky dimpled smile and soft bouncing curls. He marched right up to you, bowing at the waist like he was taught to, except he nearly tripped over his feet and gave you a crooked little grin before correcting himself. 

“Hi, Y/N. I’m Mattheo, but you can call me Matt.” There was a mischievous glint in his brown eyes that you didn’t recognize as trouble until much later. “Do you want to play with me?” 

As it turns out, his definition of playing meant chasing each other through the hedge maze out on the manor grounds and absolutely dirtying up your pretty pink dress as you rolled around in the grass. You laid side by side on your backs, giggling as you tucked a flower into Mattheo’s curls. 

“You’re going to get me in trouble, you know,” you stated matter-of-factly as you rolled over on your elbows. “My dress is all dirty.” 

“Don’t worry, we can ask Tom to help us. He knows lots of spells and hexes.” He leaned in conspiratorially, holding his pinky finger out. “But you have to keep it a secret, okay? Can I trust you, Y/N?” 

You hooked your finger through his, not knowing that such a simple secret would forever solidify your friendship. “You can trust me, Matty.” 

In the years that followed, the two of you were as thick as thieves. Most days were spent at either the Riddle manor or your estate, which Mattheo tended to prefer since it provided him reprieve from his father. As of late, his parents had made it perfectly clear that he was expected to follow in his brother's footsteps. Despite it being Tom's first year at Hogwarts, he was already proving to be a gifted and talented wizard. When his father wasn't outright ignoring him, Mattheo was forced to practice hexes and spells that were beyond the knowledge of an eleven year old. Without his older brother to protect him, Mattheo felt the walls closing in in his grand yet inhospitable home.

You were the only silver lining in his otherwise dreary days. Mattheo thanked Merlin that his father allowed visits to your estate. Unlike Riddle Manor, your family home was warm, lovely, and full of life. During the summers, the two of you would venture out to the edge of your property and set up camp at the creek. The sunny days were spent swimming, climbing, and picking flowers from sunrise to sunset. On one particular day, you sat cross-legged on the picnic blanket, absentmindedly picking at the sandwich in your lap. 

Beside you, Mattheo nudged you with his knee. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You blinked, trying to savor the sunshine for as long as you could. “I don’t want summer to end.” 

“We’ll only be apart for a year,” Mattheo said softly, correctly guessing the cause of your apprehension. You weren’t surprised. He always seemed to know what was on your mind. “You’ll be joining me at Hogwarts before you know it. By then, I’ll be an expert so I can show you the ropes.” 

“A lot can happen in a year,” you stated. “What if you make other friends and forget about me?” 

“I might make other friends, but I’d never forget about you. You were my first friend ever. That makes you the most important.” 

You looked up and found yourself face to face with Mattheo’s earnest expression. The corners of his lips tugged upwards as he nudged you again. “Besides, you know I’m going to write to you every week. Now that I’m in the same castle as Malfoy, I can finally crack the great mystery of whether or not he bleaches his hair.” 

“There’s no way that’s natural, right? Maybe Lucius has a special shampoo or something.”

Mattheo grinned and draped an arm over your shoulder. “I don’t know, but I promise to find out for you.” 

“You’ll really write to me every week?” 

“Of course I will,” Mattheo declared, holding his pinky finger out. “You trust me, right?” 

You smiled and hooked your pinkies together. “I trust you, Matty.” 

When the next year finally rolled around, you were so excited that you convinced your parents to take you to King’s Cross at least an hour before your departure. You hadn’t seen Mattheo since the previous summer because his family had been away on holiday in Spain, but he stayed true to his word and wrote to you every chance he got. You loved reading about the friends he’d made, the antics he got up to, and most importantly, the fascinating classes that awaited you at Hogwarts. 

As you passed through Platform 9 ¾, you were nearly knocked off your feet as Mattheo ran full force into you. He had grown much taller since you last saw him, so much so that he now towered over you as he pulled you into a bear hug. 

“Hi, Matty,” you giggled against his chest. 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

Mattheo pulled away, grinning as he tugged at your hand. “Come on, I want you to meet my friends.” 

You looked back at your parents who merely smiled at Mattheo’s excitement. To his chagrin, your best friend remembered to properly greet them and asked if you could board the train early. After much fussing, they eventually said their goodbyes and allowed you to go with Mattheo. 

The first friend that you met was Enzo. He was sweet, if not a little cheeky as he hinted that Mattheo couldn’t stop talking about you all year. Draco and Blaise needed no introduction given that your families were all fairly acquainted ever since you could remember. To your delight, Pansy was amongst the group as well. The two of you used to take ballet together, so it was a relief to have another girl to bond with. The older boys, Tom and Regulus, briefly greeted you before returning to their own cabin. 

Last, but not least, was Theodore. 

Whereas the others welcomed you with open arms, Nott was not as warm in his reception of you. The two of you clashed right off the bat. You weren’t quite sure what the root of your disagreement was. Perhaps it was his snarky comment insinuating that girls couldn’t be proper quidditch fans in reference to your Chudley Cannons scarf, perhaps it was your biting retort that he could stick his misogyny up his arse. Either way, the interaction set the tone for your strained relationship. 

Being sorted into Gryffindor only contributed to the animosity between you as well. Given the longstanding rivalry of Slytherins and Gryffindors, Theo was determined to view you as his enemy. The harder you fought, the harder Mattheo tried to repair the rift. You were the two most important people in his life and he couldn’t stand to see you two tear each other apart. 

For the most part, you tried to grin and bear it. While you couldn’t for the life of you understand how or why he was even friends with someone as unbearable as Theodore Nott, you tried to be civil for Mattheo’s sake. Tried being the key word. With Theo’s snark and your temper, the two of you became known for your infamous fights. Still, it didn’t stop your best friend from trying. 

Over the years, Mattheo concocted countless plots and schemes to get the two of you to bond. If his favorite band was playing in town, he would magically have two extra tickets to bring both you and Theo along. If there was a book release you were dying to attend, Mattheo would invite Theo along to check out the record store next door. If the castle was dead during the weekend, Mattheo would suggest a trio trip to Hogsmeade. 

As much as you cared for Mattheo, your patience only stretched so thin. Without fail, every outing that the three of you went on almost always ended in an argument between you and Theo. 

“I don’t know how you’re friends with both of us, Mattheo,” Theo joked as he gulped down his burger. “I’m fun and Y/N is —”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll stick my fork right through your hand, Nott,” you threatened with a sickly sweet smile. 

The hostility wasn’t anything new, but you supposed that after dealing with it for years and years on end, Mattheo had finally reached his breaking point. 

Your best friend pushed his plate away and sighed. “Let’s just go.” 

You nodded in agreement, gathering your things and following Mattheo’s lead. Theo trailed after, obnoxiously squeezing his way through the door of the Three Broomsticks and letting it close behind him. You yanked it open, nearly pulling the bloody thing off its hinges. 

“How very mature of you. Though I’m not surprised that you don’t know how to hold a door open for a lady.”

Theo looked back, craning his neck behind you. “As far as I’m concerned, there aren’t any ladies around. Just an infuriating little Gryffindor who can’t handle not having the last word.” 

“I’m infuriating?” You huffed, crossing your arms. “Clearly you’ve never suffered through the pleasure of your own company. Spoiler alert, the snarky arsehole bit stopped being funny in third year.” 

“Well, the uptight and bossy bitch bit wasn’t ever funny to begin with.” 

“Enough already,” Mattheo yelled. You reeled back in surprise. Usually, your best friend just let you and Theo fight it out until you both got tired of it, but he wasn’t having it tonight. “You two are the most important people in my life, but you’re acting like bloody toddlers. I’m tired of feeling like I have to choose a side, so either you two find a way to get along or risk losing me as a friend.” 

For the first time since you met him, you and Theo were both stunned into silence. Mattheo took one last look at his closest friends and marched off into the castle without a word. 

The next day, you woke up feeling weary. You hardly slept last night given Mattheo’s ultimatum. Your best friend wasn’t the type to make declarations like that lightly, so you knew he meant it. Especially since he went straight to his dorm without coming over to watch a movie or talk late into the night like the two of you often did. 

The suspicion was all but confirmed when you sat through a particularly awkward and tense breakfast. Mattheo briefly acknowledged you with a nod, not bothering to speak as he cranked up the music on his headphones. As the Smiths crooned, you looked up at Theo who shook his head at your inquisitive glance. You knew that Mattheo had most likely given him the silent treatment last night as well. 

Despite the fact that you and Mattheo had very similar schedules, he managed to avoid you throughout the entire day. By the time the last class rolled around, you knew that he was serious about you and Theo making up. It was a hard pill to swallow. Truly, you’d rather ingest a pill the size of a hippogriff than make amends with Nott, but it wasn’t like you had a choice. You didn’t want to lose Mattheo. 

Deciding to be the bigger person, you went to the one place that you knew Theo frequented. You found him sitting alone in the Astronomy Tower, long legs dangling below him as he smoked a cigarette. Biting back a comment about the death trap pursed between his lips, you cleared your throat. 

“Mind if I sit?” 

Theo tensed as he looked up at you. He wore the sneer that he solely reserved for you, but his eyes were dull and dim. The argument with Mattheo obviously left him feeling lost as well. 

“Do I have a choice?” You glared in response, but took a deep breath to calm yourself. Theo winced. “Sorry. Force of habit. Sit, I guess.” 

Gingerly, you settled in the spot next to him. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” 

“He wouldn’t talk to me last night,” Theo confirmed as he ashed his cigarette. “Just put on his headphones and went to sleep facing the wall.” 

“He’s been avoiding me all day.” 

Theo sighed. “What are we going to do?” 

“Look,” you started, trying to muster up the strength to propose your next statement. “Obviously, we hate each other, but Mattheo’s important to me and I know he’s important to you, too. So for his sake, can’t we just put all this animosity behind us and try to get along?” 

“What exactly does getting along mean?” 

You shrugged. To be honest, you had no idea how to approach the situation, but you figured you had to start somewhere. “I don’t know. Maybe we can grab a bite to eat. Make polite small talk. Try not to strangle each other in the process.” 

“I guess I can do that,” Theo conceded. “Why don’t we go to the new pub in the village? I heard they have fried pickles.” 

You perked up. “You like pickles? I thought I was the only one.” 

“I don’t just like pickles. I love them,” Theo stated. 

“Me too,” you grinned. “Mattheo always gives me his cause he says —”

“They taste like feet,” he finished with a chuckle. 

You nodded, laughing along. “Well, what are we waiting for, then?” 

Theo watched as you stood, smoothing the front of your skirt. You offered a hand out to him, both literally and figuratively. To your surprise, Theo took the peace offering and let you pull him to his feet. 

An hour later, the two of you were squeezed into a tiny booth by the makeshift stage. The pub was lively tonight and nearly packed to the brim, thanks to the happy hour deal on their drinks and appetizers in honor of their grand opening. 

The pickles didn’t disappoint. You ate a good amount, but Theo scarfed the whole thing down like he hadn’t eaten in months. As he finished a sandwich and gulped the meal down with his second butterbeer, you gaped in surprise. 

“Honestly, where do you put it all?” 

Theo patted his stomach, which was unfairly flat and probably housed perfectly sculpted abs despite his eating habits. “I’m a growing boy. I need to eat a lot to offset the energy I expend. Especially when I’m sparring with you.” 

“Oddly enough, I’m flattered by that.” 

“You should be,” Theo quipped. “I’ve never had to put so much thought into insulting someone until I met you.” 

“I bet you were pissed when I took your crown as the sassiest and bitchiest person in our friend group.” 

“I’ve never experienced such heartbreak,” Theo said sarcastically as he placed a hand over his heart. “I mean, to be dethroned by someone who can’t even reach the top shelf in the cupboard was truly the most humbling moment of my life.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t have assumed that I knew nothing about quidditch just because I’m a girl.” 

“I was a dick for that,” Theo admitted. “But I was also twelve. I didn’t even know what misogyny meant. I thought you were describing a disease.” 

You snorted. “Well, the past is in the past. Even though I clearly won that argument, we should put it behind us.” 

Theo rolled his eyes, but clinked his butterbeer against yours. “Cheers to that, Y/N.” 

Surprisingly, you found that you and Theo had a lot more in common than you initially thought. When he wasn’t being a prick, he was actually quite nice to talk to. In a single conversation, you learned more about Theo than you had in years. The two of you possessed a knack for potions, preferred foreign literature, and shared a love for horror movies. 

As the live band went on, Theo mumbled an obscure reference to an eighties muggle band that your mum used to blast when you were younger. 

“I can’t believe they’re covering this song,” you shouted over the music. “I haven’t heard it in years.” 

Theo’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know this song?” 

“Of course I do,” you retorted. “Mattheo says I have the music taste of a divorced country club trophy wife.” 

“You and me both.” 

By the end of the night, you found plenty of common ground with the boy you once thought of as your enemy. It was quite alarming to realize that you hadn’t argued once all night and even more so when you found yourself actually enjoying Theo’s company. Maybe Mattheo was right after all. When you stopped viewing Theo as competition, he was actually not that bad. You now understood what Mattheo meant when he said that you and Theo were more alike than you cared to admit.

On the walk back to the castle, Theo pulled out a spliff but glanced at you before lighting it. “Do you mind if I smoke?” 

“Knock yourself out.” 

The moon was silver and bright against the cloudless sky as the two of you sauntered through the beaten path. You listened to Theo recount Tom’s disastrous attempts at asking Chloe out, all the while giggling to yourself because he was a bigger gossip than you and Pansy put together. 

“Don’t let Tom hear you talking about his love life,” you teased. “He’d probably feed you to his basilisk.” 

Theo grimaced. “Half of Hogwarts would weep at the loss of such a handsome face.” 

“However will we survive without your wit and charm, Nott?” 

He chuckled as he blew a ring of smoke up into the sky. You watched it float before holding your hand out. “Care to share?” 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” 

“Who do you think taught Mattheo how to roll his first blunt?” 

Theo stared in disbelief as you took the spliff, inhaling deeply. You held the smoke in your lungs effortlessly before blowing rings of smoke in quick succession. 

“Damn,” the brown haired boy exclaimed. “Who the hell are you, Y/N?”

You smirked as you tapped the joint. “Someone much cooler than you, Theo.” 

After that night, you and Theo got on more and more. The banter and bickering was still there, but it was more playful now. Mattheo was glad to see his two best friends getting along so well. Since first year, it was all he had ever wanted. 

The days of forcing you two to hang out together was long gone. Now, you were practically as attached to the hip with Theo as you were with Mattheo. 

When Mattheo went up to the Astronomy Tower for a smoke break, he would find you sitting cross-legged across from Theo as he filled you in on the catfight between Lavender and Cho. When Mattheo visited you at the library during his free period, Theo was already there working on his History of Magic homework beside you. When Mattheo arrived at the Great Hall for assembly, he slid into the seat next to Theo as his friend craned his neck to peer at the crowd. 

“Looking for someone, mate?” 

“Yeah, Y/N said she was running late,” Theo answered distractedly. “I saved a seat for her.” 

At first, Mattheo loved the fact that you put your differences behind you and became such great friends like he always knew you would, but as time went along, your best friend noticed that you and Theo were becoming a little too close. 

On one occasion, Mattheo briefly excused himself from the common room party for a smoke only to come back to find you and Theo annihilating Draco and Blaise at butterbeer pong. He walked in right as you made the winning shot, witnessing Theo picking you up and twirling you around as Malfoy stomped off, grumbling something about an unfair play. A cheat of sorts. 

Mattheo couldn’t help but agree. Seeing you in Theo’s arms felt like cheating. The whole thing made him feel strange. It didn’t help that every time the three of you hung out, Mattheo noticed that you and Theo now had little inside jokes and references that he didn’t understand. Being jealous of his best mate was ridiculous, but yet he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that only grew stronger with each passing day. 

As you grew closer, Mattheo felt stranger. One morning, he nearly smashed his muffin to pieces when he saw you wearing Theo’s hoodie. 

“Why are you wearing that?” he asked through clenched teeth. 

You looked down in surprise as though you’d forgotten that you were wearing another man’s clothes. “Oh, I was cold so Theo let me borrow his hoodie.”

Mattheo frowned before pulling his sweater over his head. “Here, wear mine instead. It’s warmer.” 

The gesture was confusing, but you merely shrugged and exchanged Theo’s hoodie for Mattheo’s sweater. “Thanks, Matty.” 

Later that week, Mattheo found you in the stands in your usual spot before the game. He smiled when he saw his number painted on your right cheek. The brief moment of happiness was shattered when you turned and revealed that you had also painted Theo’s number on your left cheek. Mattheo nearly fell off of his broom. He was used to seeing his and only his number on you. First the hoodie, now this? 

The green monster reared its ugly head during the game itself, motivating him to play as brutally as possible. The Hufflepuffs weren’t safe from his rage and neither were his teammates. As he soared around the goalpost, he hurled the quaffle as hard as he could, fully knowing that Theo was within the ball’s radius. Thankfully for him, Theo ducked at the last second before shooting a baffled glance at his friend. Mattheo simply ignored it and kept playing. 

Despite their sweeping win, the bad mood failed to lift. Mattheo frowned as he slipped into the booth next to you, glaring at Theo’s head as the two of them sandwiched you on both sides. Across the table, the rest of the team sipped their celebratory milkshakes. 

The waitress set down a vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate milkshake in front of the three of you. Mattheo watched as you and Theo tasted your drinks before promptly taking out the straw and switching flavors. 

“Told you that you’d like strawberry more,” Theo said with a fond eye roll. 

“But vanilla sounded good.” 

“Everything sounds good at the moment, but you always go back to your favorite.” 

Mattheo clenched his jaw as you stuck your tongue out at Theo before turning towards him. “Aren’t you going to drink your milkshake, Matty?” 

“I don’t really have much of an appetite.” 

“Maybe it’s just the chocolate. Do you wanna try mine?” 

He shook his head, crossing his arms. “No, that’s Theo’s milkshake.” 

“Oh, well if you want the vanilla one instead, I can switch back.” 

Mattheo wrinkled his nose. “No thanks, Theo’s mouth has already been on it.” 

“Consider it a privilege,” Theo butted in. “Most girls and boys at this school would kill to swap spit with me.” 

“I’ll pass.” 

You cocked your head at your best friend, looking concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay, Matty?” 

He nodded rather unconvincingly. “I’m fine.”

As weeks passed, Mattheo only grew more jealous. 

Granted, he was fully aware that he had no right to feel this way given the fact that he had practically pushed you and Theo together, but he just couldn’t help himself. The closer you grew, the more he regretted giving the two of you an ultimatum in the first place. 

Before you became friends with Theo, Mattheo never had to share you with anyone. He realized now how much he had taken it for granted. Your best friend missed the times that the two of you spent alone. He missed having you all to himself. Mattheo was determined to get it back one way or another. 

When Saturday night rolled around, Mattheo made his way up to Gryffindor Tower, glaring at anyone who balked at the sight of him on this side of the castle. After shoving McLaggen out of the way, Mattheo made his way up to the highest turret and let himself into your dorm. 

You were perched in front of the vanity table, swiping your signature cherry lip gloss on in the mirror. Mattheo made himself at home, sprawling out on your bed. He knew you had plans tonight, but he was hoping to convince you to hang out with him instead. Mattheo eyed your dress, his gaze sweeping along the red fabric like a lover’s embrace. You flushed at the intensity of his stare as his brown eyes flickered back up to your face. 

“Why can’t you hang out tonight?” Mattheo asked with a pout. “Are you going on a date? Is that why you’re leaving your best friend alone to perish?” 

You shook your head in amusement before leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t be so dramatic, Matty. I’m not going on a date. Theo and I are just checking out this new band.” 

Mattheo stiffened as you sprayed perfume on your wrists. “Why didn’t you invite me?” 

“Theo did. He said you weren’t interested in listening to country club wife music.” 

While that may be true, Mattheo would’ve gone if he knew you were coming too. “He didn’t tell me he was going with you.” 

“Probably because he knew you’d feel obligated to go,” you responded. “But it’s alright, we won’t make you suffer through it. Theo will keep the creeps away.” 

Mattheo did not like the sound of that. It was his job to watch over you, not Theo’s. Besides, he never thought of it as an obligation. Even if he wasn’t a fan of the music, he loved watching you jump around and have the time of your life. Spending time with you was the only reason why he insisted on coming to every concert. Keeping the creeps away was just an added bonus. 

Now, Theo was taking away both. The realization put him in a foul mood, but he couldn’t let it show. He wanted you to have a good time, even if it wasn’t with him. 

“Okay, but can we at least watch a movie and cuddle when you get back?” 

“We’re going to be out pretty late. I don’t want you to lose sleep because of me. I know you have a Charms exam tomorrow morning, but I promise we can have a movie night tomorrow.” 

Mattheo only nodded as you patted his curls and kissed his cheek again. He watched as you left your dorm, frowning into the mirror as he touched the two cherry gloss marks on his face. 

The kiss prints were already fading, serving as some sort of sick metaphor. 

To your credit, you did make good on your promise on movie night. It had been a while since the two of you hung out alone, which is definitely the only reason why Mattheo felt needier and clingier than usual. While his touchiness wasn’t anything new, he seemed determined to make it obvious to those around you. Especially with Theo. 

During breakfast, Mattheo silently laid his head on your shoulder and placed your hand atop his curls. Across the table, Theo continued gnawing away at his croissant while you told him about the new horror movie that had apparently been banned in twenty countries. 

“I wanna watch it,” Mattheo mumbled as you scratched his head. 

“But you hate horror,” Theo responded. 

“So? I still want to see it.” 

“I’ll ask my mum if she can send me a copy this weekend,” you said as you playfully tugged at his curls. “We can watch it in your dorm, okay?” 

He leaned in, nuzzling against your neck. “Just the two of us?”

“Of course, Matty.” 

Mattheo brightened at that, happy with your response. Perhaps it was petty of him, but he didn’t care. He wanted to send a message. You and Theo could be friends, but he’d always be the most important person in your life. Mattheo was your person, just like you were his. 

The others were beginning to pick up on things, despite his constant denial. It was sort of a moot point anyways, given the fact that he was single handedly proving them right with his actions. Nowadays, your friends would find Mattheo lounging on your lap, wedging himself in the small space on the common room couch just so that he was next to you instead of Theo. 

Every time you went out to Hogsmeade, he’d make a point of holding your hand and carrying your bags. Mattheo would stop mid-conversation and rub your cold hands in his, blowing on your fingers because he knows how cold you get even in the heated pub. 

“Your hands are cold. Let me heat them up, princess.” 

As you blushed, Enzo would shoot Mattheo a knowing look, which he deflected by focusing all his attention on you. Even Tom made a passing comment at all the sickening nicknames Mattheo had taken to calling you lately. 

“Hi, sweetheart. Is this seat taken?” 

“Morning, love. Do you want to go for a walk with me?” 

“Here, give me your bag. I’ll carry it for you, darling.” 

Though his older brother might disagree with his methods, Mattheo was quite convinced that it was working. Until it wasn’t. 

During the last week of December, you and Theo began acting strangely. Every time he walked into a room, the two of you would fall uncharacteristically silent. When he tried to bring it up, you evaded his questions and changed the subject instead. The secrecy didn’t sit well with him. 

After the last class of the day, Mattheo usually walked with you to the library, but every time he tried to find you that week, you had all but disappeared.

“Berkshire, have you seen Y/N?” 

“Oh yeah, she left with Theo a few minutes ago. Seemed urgent.” 

“Did they say where they were going?” 

Enzo shrugged nonchalantly. “No clue, mate.” 

Frustrated, Mattheo walked away before succumbing to the urge to throttle his friend. It wasn’t Enzo’s fault that you and Theo were acting so weird. Throughout the week, Theo would be out of their dorm for hours and hours. Sometimes he wouldn’t even come back until the wee hours of the night. 

When Mattheo checked your dorm, you were also nowhere to be found. He was trying his best not to spiral, but the nagging suspicion that the two of you were hiding something from him was too big to ignore. It was all but confirmed when he caught you sneaking out of the dungeons one night. 

You poked your head out from behind a marble column, watching students pass. Clearly, you didn’t want anyone to know that you were down here. Unfortunately for you, Mattheo had already seen you. 

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” 

His voice startled you, making you jump a step back as you glanced up at him with a nervous expression. “Oh! Hi, Matty. I was just — I was just, um, walking back to my dorm.” 

“I can see that, but what were you doing in the dungeons?’ 

“Just…hanging out…”

Mattheo could feel his blood boiling. “With Theo?” 

You gulped, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, he had my book.” 

“So where is it?” 

“Where’s what?” 

“Your book.” 

“Oh,” you said softly, avoiding his gaze. It was a tell-tale sign that you weren’t being honest. You always looked away when you were lying. “I guess I forgot.” 

“You forgot the thing that you came down here for?” 

“Hm? Did you hear that?” You mumbled, despite the fact that the corridor was silent. “I think Pansy’s calling me. I gotta go, Matty. See you later!” 

Your best friend watched as you sauntered off to Salazar knows where with a frown. Confused, Mattheo walked back to his dorm and found the answer to his dreaded question. As soon as he opened the door, the familiar scent of strawberry and vanilla filled the air. Mattheo felt downright murderous. That was your perfume. He’d recognize it anywhere. 

Mattheo glared at his best friend, who was laying in bed with a book perched on his chest. He eyed the rumpled sheets and Theo’s disheveled hair while trying not to assume the worst. 

“Is that the book Y/N lent you?” 

“Huh? What book?” 

Though he wanted very much to punch his mate’s teeth in, Mattheo restrained himself. “The book she came down here to get.” 

“She wasn’t here for —” Theo closed his mouth before nodding reluctantly. “Oh, right. Yeah. This is Y/N’s book. I should — I should return it.” 

“You’re acting weird, Nott. Both of you are.” Mattheo narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What the bloody hell is going on?” 

“Blase? Yeah, be right there, mate! I’d love to stay and chat, but duty calls. See you later, man.” 

Theo hightailed it out of the dorm, responding to an imaginary summon. Y/N and Theo. Theo and Y/N. His two closest friends. Sneaking around. Lying to him. Fooling around in his dorm. Mattheo didn’t know how to feel. He was angry, he was sad, but most of all, he was hurt. His girl and his best friend? It was the ultimate betrayal. 

Never mind that Mattheo had spent the past decade denying his feelings for you. Anyone with an ounce of common sense could see that he’d been in love with you since you were children. It was clear as fucking day. 

When Friday rolled around, Mattheo decided that enough was enough. He was going to confront the two of you. After quidditch practice, he followed Theo through the castle. The git buggered off to some dark, secluded area of the school that Mattheo had never stepped foot in. He kept a safe distance, peering around the corner when he heard whispered voices. 

“I’m telling you, he’s getting suspicious,” Theo whispered frantically. “He asked why our dorm smelled like you. I didn’t know what to say, so I bolted!” 

His heart dropped when he heard you sigh in frustration. “For Merlin’s sake, Theo! You couldn’t make up an excuse?” 

“Me? You were the one who got caught sneaking out of the dungeons. It’s not like you’re an expert on stealth, either.” 

“You know I can’t lie to him,” you exclaimed. “I’ve never been able to, ever since we were little. He knows all my tells. But, Theo, he absolutely cannot find out about this!” 

Mattheo didn’t need to hear the rest. His heart had already been crushed into a thousand pieces. He couldn't believe it. The two of you were supposed to be his best friends, yet here you were keeping this terrible secret from him. 

For the rest of the night, he sulked in his room. He was in the middle of brooding while listening to the Smiths when he heard a knock. 

“Piss off!” 

“It’s me.” 

Part of him wanted to send you away, but a bigger part — the stupid, idiotic, part of him couldn’t. With a sigh, Mattheo peeled himself off the carpet and opened the door. Since the secret rendezvous with Theo, you had apparently found time to get dolled up and changed into a pretty party dress. 

Mattheo frowned and crossed his arms. “Theo’s not here.” 

You frowned, cocking your head in confusion. “I’m not here for Theo.” 

He scoffed in response. “You don’t have to lie to me anymore. I know.” 

“You know what, Matty?” 

“I know that you and Theo are…sneaking around. Lying to me. Hooking up behind my back.” 

“What on Godric’s green earth are you talking about?” 

“Don’t try to deny it. I heard you in the corridor upstairs. I’ve had my suspicions all week. The two of you have been acting weird and avoiding me. More than that, you have your own stupid little inside jokes and you take him to concerts and you share milkshakes! Those are things we used to do together, but now you’ve gone and replaced me.” 

“The only reason Theo and I became friends is because you asked us to., Mattheo.” 

“I know that!” Mattheo exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I regret it so much. I wanted you to get along, but not like this. Now Theo’s making you laugh and walking you to class and doing god knows what else with you in our dorm!” 

Your features softened as you tried to reach for Mattheo, but he took a step back. “Don’t try to deny it! I know you were in here the night I caught you sneaking out of the dungeons. I could smell your perfume.” 

Realization flooded you all at once. “Are you…are you jealous, Matty?” 

Your best friend crossed his arms and huffed. “Of course I’m jealous! I don’t want you doing any of those things with Theo. You’re my best friend. Mine, not his. I had you first. I loved you first.” 

The confession stunned you into silence. You blinked, processing the information before holding your hand out. “Come.” 

Mattheo looked like he was about to argue, but you just stared at him with determination. “Just come with me, Matty. I promise it’ll all make sense in a minute.” 

The logical side of him wanted to refuse, but he knew it would be futile. Mattheo would’ve ripped his heart out of his chest if you asked him to. You were his weak spot. 

Following you out into the corridor, Mattheo staggered a few steps back as you slipped into the dark and empty common room. With a snap of your fingers, the lights came on and voices echoed in unison. 

“Happy birthday, Mattheo!” 

Startled, Mattheo blinked at the sight before him. The common room was decorated with streamers and confetti, complete with a bright birthday banner that covered nearly half the room. There were tables filled with food and drinks, all of which were his favorites. All of his friends were present, including Tom, who stood to the side with his arms crossed. The pretty blonde beside him — Chloe, the girl Theo swore his brother was in love with — elbowed Tom, who sighed and flashed Mattheo a rare smile. Now that was something he needed to revisit at a later time.

For now, one shocking revelation was enough to deal with.

“Surprise!” You exclaimed beside him as you pulled him into a hug. 

At first, he was too stunned to return the gesture, but eventually he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a bear hug. With everything going on, Mattheo nearly forgot his own birthday, but he knew that you wouldn't. You did all of this. For him. 

When you broke apart, Theo clapped him on the back. “Happy birthday, mate.” Relief washed over his friend’s face as he spoke the words. “Thank fucking Salazar that Y/N pulled this off. Hiding this from you for a week has been absolute hell.”

“So…this is what you two have been up to?” 

You nodded in confirmation. “Mhm, Theo and I spent all week planning it. We wanted everything to be perfect.” 

“But it was hard because you were being such a nosy little git,” said Theo.  

The pieces started to click together. All that secrecy between his two best friends hadn’t meant what he thought it did. “So you two aren’t…you haven’t…you’re not hooking up behind my back?”

You and Theo stared at each other in horror. 

“Ew!” Theo dramatically exclaimed. “Y/N is like my sister. You don’t hook up with your sister. That’s gross.” 

“But I thought…you were hanging out together so much and you had all these jokes and it seemed like…”

“Please,” Theo scoffed. “Anyone with half a brain cell can see that you two are clearly in love with each other.” 

“Surprised you figured it out then, Theo,” you quipped.

The brunette rolled his eyes at you before breaking out into a shit-eating grin. "Wait. Is that why you've been acting like such a twat lately? You thought I was making a move on your girl?" Theo's eyes widened as Mattheo shifted uncomfortably. "I'm right, aren't I? First of all, I'm flattered that you felt threatened by me."

"Threatened is a strong word," Mattheo countered.

"Please, you nearly took my head off with a quaffle." Theo wiggled his eyebrows. "Second of all, I'm quite frankly offended that you'd think I'd ever go for Y/N. I would never break your trust like that."

"I know, I know." Mattheo said with a sigh. "I was being stupid, but for a second I was truly convinced that something was going on between you two. I mean, you've been hanging out so much lately..."

“Matty, do you even know what we talk about when we hang out? You. It’s always about you. You were right that we both have a lot in common. We were just too stubborn to see it, but the main thing that brought us together is that we care about you so much.” 

“Well, Y/N cares for you a lot more,” Theo teased with a smirk. “She’d like to care for you all night long.”

You flushed as deep and red as your party dress. “Oh my gods. Shut up, Theo!” 

“My work here is done. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to hit on that Ravenclaw who looks like she wants absolutely nothing to do with me.” 

“Sorry about him,” you said as you turned back to Mattheo. “And sorry that we’ve been acting so shady all week. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t suspect anything.”

Mattheo chuckled. “Well, consider me surprised.” 

You wrinkled your nose in disgust. “I can’t believe you thought I was hooking up with Theo.” 

With a boyish grin, Mattheo pulled you to his side and kissed your temple. “I’m sorry, princess. Jealousy just got the best of me.” 

“There’s no need to be jealous. If it wasn’t already obvious, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” 

“I’m a bloody idiot.” 

“Yeah, but you’re my idiot.” 

Mattheo beamed and kissed the tip of your nose. “Thank you for doing all of this for me.” 

You smiled softly, cheeks heating as he stared at you with bright, brown eyes. “Course, Matty, I just want you to have the best birthday.” 

With a smile, Mattheo leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. There was something familiar about the gesture, like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place. Kissing Mattheo was as natural as breathing. It felt like coming home. 

“Wish granted, princess.” 

Later that night when he blew out his candles, Mattheo didn’t bother wishing for anything. You leaned into him as he hooked his pinkie through yours, making a silent promise. Even if it took a little jealousy for him to realize it, Mattheo embraced the truth wholeheartedly. You were his person and he was yours. As the flames died out, he smiled.

Mattheo Riddle had no use for wishes now that he had you. 

[everythingne]

little miss wingwoman (2) - ln4

penelope continues you meddling through you moving into lando's apartment, and saving a christmas disaster from happening.

warnings/notes: implied complicated pregnancy for kelly, most are complicated as far as i've seen (i dont have kids so. dont yell at me.), also implied family tensions for the reader, i used this recipe for the pasta they cook!! ignore im posting christmas fics after christmas i do not care <3

(prev | next)

Penelope gets to enact her first part of the plan a few days later. A small post-season dinner, just some drivers Max had been playing padel with earlier swinging by to help out Max with some baby stuff. You are home, of course, helping Kelly with some organization in the master bedroom.

You're struggling with one of the big thick boxes for toys, trying to build a shelf you'll have the boys carry into the room later. Most of the shelf was able to be paired together by hand, but a few screws at the end make you huff when you realize Max had taken the screwdriver.

Getting up, you wander to the bedroom where Penelope is watching the boys attempt to set up both the crib and the little handmade wooden mobile above it. Leaning on the doorway, your eyes naturally fall to Lando who is biting his tongue poking out of his lips in focus as Max curses over the screw being stripped.

Seemingly again, based on Charles' quick French quip as he digs in a box to find another screw.

"You're having about as much luck as we are." You finally find your voice, your eyes not leaving Lando's as he perks up, his tongue darting back inside as a rose dusts across his cheeks. Max sighs and hands you the screwdriver and you kneel down, jamming it in like a hammer until you basically brute force the screw into it's hole.

"And, if you don't need this, I'll be stealing it. I'm almost done with the bookshelves, we'll just have to secure them to the wall after."

"Yeah, just pull it in when you're done." Max says, thanking you for getting the screw in, before you're off to the other bedroom. Penelope stays behind for a bit, peeking into the room once or twice as you sit back down on the floor to finish the shelving.

It takes until you're on the last drawer for her to ask--

"Do you like Lando?" Penelope lingers in the doorway, and you just nod, eyebrows knitting as you get the loose screws to finally lock into place. You can hear Max and Charles celebrating getting something to work in the other room, Lando's laughter coming closer down the hall with his soft socked footsteps.

"I think Lando likes you." Penelope says with a matter of fact tone that makes you life your head, and Kelly tuts out a laugh, waving Penelope over. The girl happy smiles and runs over to hug a very sleepy Kelly, giving her mom's stomach a little kiss while she's at it.

"P, they're friends. Friends like each other." Kelly smiles, running a hand through her mini-me's hair, "you like all your friends, right?"

"But Mommy," Penelope scowls, climbing up to stand on the bed so she can lean into her mothers ear to whisper. You look down then, finishing up the last of the screws with a triumphant whistled sigh, overshadowed by Kelly's soft laughter.

"I'm being serious! I studied, and asked Maxie, and my teacher!" Penelope scowls, crossing her arms at her mother and just earning a soft laugh in reply. Looking over, you see Lando lingering in the doorway, offering you a smile as his hand to help you up.

"Pen said you need help moving this?" He asks softly, almost nervously, after helping to bring you to your feet with a warm hand in yours and resting on your bicep. You smile and nod, words failing on your lips. Your hand lingering in his longer than necessary, before you hear Penelope whispering to Kelly and you step back.

"Please," You say, smiling at the dimples that appear on his cheeks with his curvy lipped smile, "It's not heavy, just long. Max has the wall bolts in the nursery, so he can finish it in there."

"Sounds good to me, I'll get this side..." Lando walks off, and as you two move the shelves out of the master bedroom to the nursery, you cant help but laugh as the whole thing is so awkward to shuffle around. Once you get it out, Kelly lets out a cheer, and you look back to see Penelope wink.

It's been a few days, and while Lando's off on a ski trip with Quadrant, he gives you free reign of his apartment since you really only have clothes to move in since all of your old stuff is between boxes in your childhood home and two or three boxes you bring down from Max's apartment. Lando leaves to catch his flight with a slightly nervous smile, telling you to make it feel homey, if possible. So after a Max sponsored trip to the stores, you fill the backseats of the Porsche Lando let you borrow from him with just about everything. New pots and pans to replace his old stained ones, proper cleaning supplies, and plenty of house decor.

You'd driven into France to go shopping for the bigger items, planning for some little furniture bits to be shipped around the holidays. Everything you text Lando about buying is met with enthusiastic pleases and thank yous and probably a concerning amount of money wired into your account via Venmo.

You're unloading as much as you can into the apartment, taking probably far too many trips up the elevator, when Lando calls you as you're in the midst of restocking his fridge with actual food.

"I hope this isn't going to ruin your day," He opens with and you feel dread fill your stomach at his nervous tone, because with Lando, it could, “my mom asked if I could host christmas this year… and I kinda forgot I said yes..."

"Lando." You deadpan, looking at the bare apartment, "oh my god."

"Listen! Consider this payback for the rent or something! She asked me before Miami, how was I supposed to remember after that weekend!" He groans and you cant help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat as you look back at all the things you'd bought.

"You have to help me not make this a horrid mess, I'd never live it down!" Lando laments, his voice pitching higher, "I'm finishing up with Quadrant early, and I'll be home soon after. I've got them all a hotel room, so we at least don't have to worry about that. But we need... well, to make my apartment look lived in."

"I got some stuff already, as you know, but I don't have to see Penelope until tomorrow so I can head back out to the shops--"

"An extra of my credit card is in my desk drawer. Consider it my gift," He stammers, "Shit, my Ma is gonna kill me if she realizes I forgot."

You laugh softly, "Listen, when are you gonna get home?"

"Tomorrow morning, maybe?" His tone is light, but the hint of panic in his tone makes you feel a little soft.

"Today, I'll get what I already bought in the house and set up. Tomorrow, when you get home, we'll figure out what else we need." You say softly and Lando thanks you profusely, promising to buy you a bottle of whatever liquor you want for your troubles, and then he ends the call. Leaving you standing in the kitchen with a soft sigh and laughter. The whole situation was just... very Lando.

It's not like you're gonna go home for Christmas.

The next day, Lando comes home to your changes. Throw blankets, pillows, pictures his mother had gifted him on the wall after forever. You're in the middle of making lunch when he stumbles in, yanking his suitcase along with him in a less than graceful fashion. You watch as his eyes widen at the little table and shoe rack in the entryway, the carpet that leads into the main area where the kitchen and living room are. The lamps that you've gotten to warm the lighting, the new dishes, the little knick knacks you must've found in a box or two in the spare room you'd set up. You've even taken all his helmets out of their cases on the floor and neatly displayed them in the case his Dad had built for him forever ago, the shelves to expand it resting on the wall besides the case.

It's... it's a damn home.

"Hey," Lando smiles as he walks in, finally seeing you in the kitchen. You blush, looking down as you realize he'd caught you watching his sweet reaction. The way you fit so nicely in his home makes something twist in his head, making him feel oddly warm, bubbly in his chest, as you smile.

"Hey yourself," You chime back as you glance up, "do you want a sandwich?"

"Sure." He says, "You... made this place really nice. I'm impressed."

"Thank you, here, grab a plate..." You smile and begin listing new things you wanna do, build the new shelves, put a christmas tree in the middle of the big bay windows in his living room, maybe some stockings under the tv, and of course string lights all over. You contemplate some cute little knick knacks on the shelves you've put up, oh! Some lights inside the shelves for his helmets to be shown off, too.

You rattle ideas all the way through finishing his food, and you settle the plates down. Luckily for Lando, you give him some gift ideas too. Things you'd seen while out at the shops, and you thankfully know most of the drivers in Monaco well enough to have an idea or two of what to get them, and you remind him to buy gifts for his parents and siblings and extended family as you set a simple sandwich and chips down in front of Lando.

Lando just blinks before sighing happily, "You're literally perfect."

It makes you nearly choke on your sandwich. And he stammers with red cheeks, "Well, you are, but I mean--I mean like... you're exactly the type of person someone who doesn't really know how to adult needs. You've got everything all figured out, y'know!"

"I'm a nanny," You deadpan, "And Kelly didn't really know much when I moved in with her when Pen was a baby. And Max's apartment... it was close to yours. Except, at least, he knew how to live like an adult and not have expired food."

Lando shrieks out a "Hey!" That makes you both laugh, and his laughter melts into yours. It all feels so natural, the way you both just stand there grinning over little sandwiches.

Hours later, after ridiculous amounts of shopping, and take-out dinner, you get to setting up the Hallmark movie you plan to turn his house into. It really doesn't take long for you and Lando to fall into a rhythm, and by the time his pauses on the couch turn into him falling asleep on the couch, you're almost done. You finish up the tree, shoving the gifts you'd bought for the Verstappen-Piquets underneath, before turning to Lando.

"Lando," you whisper, shaking his shoulder, "Hey..."

He stirs, murmuring something intelligible with a pout that almost makes you giggle. It takes another few calls of his name to coax him awake long enough to at least get him in bed. Even if he's still in jeans, you happy to save his back from the horror of sleeping sitting up like you'd done once or twice.

The next morning, Lando helps you make breakfast and with Christmas music and movies playing for some background noise, you pretty much finish up the entire apartment within the day. Lando leaves around six to get some presents for his sisters, and ends up video calling you to ask about jewelry. He gets Flo a beautiful little silver horse necklace, with a little custom plate with her horses name on the back, and after an instagram peruse you determine Cisca should get something bold in gold, and he settles on a nice piece of earrings for her. Oliver is a bit harder, so you let him call his Mom to find ideas while you finish up cleaning.

And when he comes home, you teach Lando how to wrap his gifts, somehow ending up in a big plaster for a cut he gets on his hand and tape stuck in your hair.

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, kellypiquet, and others...

yourusername: everyone say thanks max and kelly for letting me take a week off so i could move into this random guys apt and make it look like a hallmark movie

tagged: landonorris

maxverstappen: you've done the unthinkable, make lando not live like a child

user: THEY LIVE TOGETHER??

kellypiquet: i need the skill you possess to make everything magical

user1: wait why is yn living with lando and not max??? is she not penelope's nanny??

-- yourusername: i still am her nanny dw!! with baby lion on the way I got evicted (rightfully), and lando lives in the same building and had an extra room he offered :)

-- user2: wait thats so cute

-- user3: romcom moment

maxfewtrell: THATS HIS APARTMENT?

-- yourusername: yes, you're welcome

landonorris: i feel a little attacked right now

-- yourusername: don't even try to get pity points, you had month old cheese

-- landonorris: in my defense i forgot it was there

-- yourusername: IT WAS MOLDY.

-- user4: prayers for yn

On the 22nd, you get to watch Penelope for the day since Max is finishing up meetings before his break for the holidays and Kelly's mother is over considering she's feeling quite swollen and ill. You'd been there since the beginning, with the issues and the pain. Max and Kelly had struggles, and you had taken Penelope out plenty of times for days when the two just needed a breath.

Watching Penelope so Kelly can go to an emergency appointment doesn't feel new, but it makes you so anxious.

So you and Lando have her come down to your apartment, giving Kelly a much longer hug than usual and wiping away her stressed tears as Lando shows Penelope the new decorations in the apartment.

"It'll be fine." You say softly and she nods, giving you one more tight hug before her mother brings her along. Shutting the door behind you, the way Lando holds Penelope up so she can place the star on the tree is so undoubtedly domestic to you it makes you feel warm as you shut the door.

"Penny," You call, and her head whips around as you ask, "Did Kelly make you anything for dinner?"

Lando pops Penelope down on the floor and then turns back to straighten the star. Penelope runs to give you a hug, clinging to your legs as she announces that no, she didn't get dinner-- and, she wants to cook the 'spiced' pasta with you, Lando tilts his head as he slowly makes his way over in his sweats.

"And you!" Penelope grabs Lando's hand, dragging him the rest of the way into the kitchen, "Please Yn! Please?!"

"You're sure you want the spicy pasta? 'Cause half the time I end up eating all of it and ordering you food." You place your hands on your hips, and when Penelope all but cries for it, you agree. The 'spicy pasta' is a normal corkscrew pasta with a gochujang based sauce. You typically make it a lot hotter, but because both Lando and Penelope don't like spice as much you change the plan.

Penelope helps Lando salt the almost boiling water and chop up the shallots while you root through the pantry, eventually finding all the ingredients. You'd bought them a week ago, when Lando hadn't been home, and made it for dinner so you knew you had everything. Dragging a chair over, you let Penelope jump up to sauté the shallots, onions, and garlic in butter and olive oil with Lando's supervision while you gather some spices.

"Here, P, let me get in there." You say softly, and miss Penelope's knowing smirk as she jumps down and scoots the chair out of the way. You begin to pop down a smaller scoop of gochujang than usual, whilst Lando watches curiously.

"Wait so, what is this red stuff?" He asks, grabbing the container once you close it. As you infuse the ingredients, you softly explain.

"It's gochujang," You look over to Lando to find him already intently watching you, "it's like a Korean fermented, spicy, savory paste. I used to cook a lot with my first family I worked for in London, and they loved Korean food."

Lando nodded, "Have you always been a nanny?"

"I was an Au Pair first, like a live in babysitter while I was in secondary school. But I started to nanny Penelope right around when she was born and haven't left." You look behind you, as if expecting to see Penelope, but she's gone. You and Lando share a look, almost as if saying ' of course she ran off' before he chuckles softly.

You turn back to the pan and nod, "Lando, can you grab me the green bottle next to you?"

He picks it up as you lower the heat, and your cold hands brush his warm ones as your take the bottle. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you pour a little bit of the soju in, capping it, and stirring again until it all thickens up while Lando drains the pasta noodles. He stands besides you as you let him stir slowly as you add in half and half and parmesan cheese until it's make a thick sauce.

Dipping a noodle in to taste, Lando groans, "this is actually so good."

"It's my favorite," You smile, "A good old comfort dish, since I don't have any from my family."

Lando nods and helps you add the pasta to the sauce, mix it up, and set it in three bowls. Settling down to eat in the kitchen, you watch as Lando and Penelope chat. Smiling softly, you rest your head on your hand, giggling along with Penelope's stories from dance class, ignoring the way Lando's smile makes your chest tighten.

After dinner, Penelope asks to watch the live action Cinderella. You've seen it with her in the past, so you have no issue turning it on as Lando finds a little bit of candy for Penelope to eat during the movie--like a dessert.

Once the three of you settle down, Penelope forces you three to share a blanket and you end up between her and Lando on the couch. The beginning of the movie rolls by, but soon enough Penelope is asleep in your lap, leaving just you and Lando far too close for comfort.

But it grows comforting as the movie picks up, and by the time Cinderella has met her Prince, Lando's shifted to allow you to lean against him.

Maybe watching a romantic movie with a guy who makes you flutter, if even you're not sure why, isn't the best idea because the both of you catch each other's gaze more than once. Biting lips to hide smiles and thanking the dark lights for hiding you blush.

Luckily, Penelope wakes up before the end of the movie, and Kelly comes back soon after the movie ends. You help Penelope pack up while Lando cleans up the apartment, and when you go to drop Penelope off, your eyes catching Lando's makes heat rush to your face.

Shit.

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[witchywithwhiskey]

to save me from tears

pairing: DARK!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you thought you were going on a weekend getaway to the cabin of the guy were seeing, but it turned out bucky barnes had no intention of ever letting you leave. now, one year later, it's the anniversary of an important milestone in your relationship, and he knows just how to celebrate the special occasion.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), dark themes and elements, non-con/rape, abduction, drugging, imprisonment/captivity, sexual exploitation of reader, forced camgirl work, live-streaming sex, smut, rough sex, painful sex, unprotected sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, oral cockwarming with a dildo gag, squirting, sex toys, bondage/shibari, sadism/forced masochism, ass spanking, degradation, objectification, dacryphilia, choking, breathplay, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (doll, winter slut), mind break, reluctant stockholm syndrome, reader passes out during sex, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, if i missed something please let me know!

word count: 5.6k

a/n: here's my second entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: Has it been a year already? my last fic was so sweet that apparently i had to balance things out with the absolute darkest, filthiest fic i've ever written. i guess i was feeling some type of way, idk!! anyway, i hope y'all enjoy ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

Frank Sinatra’s “Silent Night” played softly from a speaker in the corner, the chords lilting serenely through the cold basement, the choral harmonizing of the background singers becoming a soundtrack to the depravity you were forced to endure. 

It occurred to you that you might wonder how you’d ended up where you had, but you knew exactly how—you’d trusted the wrong man.

Bucky Barnes had been charming from the moment you met. The former army sergeant had wooed you with ice skating dates and trips to the book store, regaling you with stories from his childhood growing up in Brooklyn over cups of hot chocolate and herbal tea. 

He’d seemed perfectly normal, like the kind of man you’d want to settle down with, and you found yourself wanting to start a new life with him. It hadn’t been long, but you thought he was the one, and you began planning what that new life would look like in your own imagination.

Apparently Bucky had been determined to give you a new life as well, but he hadn’t given you a choice about what that life would look like. While you’d been picturing a cozy apartment in the city before buying a house and moving out to the suburbs, he’d been planning something much different.

It had all started that weekend in December, when Bucky had invited you for a weekend away at his cabin upstate. You’d been seeing him long enough that you trusted him, and you were excited, hopeful, even, that your relationship would deepen on the trip.

You were so happy about spending a whole weekend alone with Bucky that you didn’t think anything of the darkness in his voice when he’d warned you to never, under any circumstances, go into the basement of the cabin. 

Then, after a weekend filled with delicate kisses and gentle lovemaking, you’d been packing to return to the city when a soft cloth had covered your mouth and nose and you’d smelled something sweet. You hadn’t known it at the time, but that was the end of your old life, and you didn’t even have the time or the strength to fight.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when you’d woken up in the cold basement that would become your only home in the months to come. A thick leather collar had been wrapped around your neck, connecting to a chain that was attached to the heavy wooden frame of the bed you lay on. To your horror, you’d realized you were clad in lingerie that wasn’t yours, some cheap set that still managed to fit you perfectly.  

Bucky had been waiting for you to notice him at the foot of the bed, standing next to a camera aimed directly at you. 

“Welcome to your new life, doll,” he’d said, a depraved smirk spreading across his handsome face—and expression you’d never seen before. “Time to earn your keep.” His blue eyes had been glittering with dark excitement as he’d clicked a button on the laptop linked to the camera and crawled onto the bed with you.

That had been the first moment you’d seen the real Bucky Barnes, and he’d spent every day since then showing you exactly how vile and perverted he truly was. He’d kept you in the basement of his cabin and forced you to fuck him on camera, using the money he made from it to buy you more cheap lingerie and all manner of toys to use on your body.

The sharp, cracking sound of a palm meeting soft flesh filled your ears, the subsequent stinging sensation reverberating from your ass through the rest of your body effectively dragging you back into the moment of your latest debasement. 

The pain of Bucky spanking you with the full force of his strength only joined the other aches already living in your body—but you knew better than to complain or cry or whimper. You’d made that mistake early on, but Bucky had only seemed to soak in your pain like it fueled him. 

The first time he’d spanked you, you’d begged him to stop. Instead, though, he only hit you harder, grinning ear to ear while he’d told you that you had no idea what you were in for yet, fake pity dripping from his tone.

But in the present moment, your pain wasn’t only coming from Bucky’s palm. 

Your shoulders ached from the way your arms had been tied behind your back, your hands gripping your forearms and constrained by intricate knots of cords wrapped around your body. To further restrain you, your calves were tied to your thighs, leaving you bound and unable to move with your ass high in the air while your face was shoved into the bed.

In honor of the holiday season, Bucky had traded in the coarse rope he typically used for a long string of multicolored Christmas lights, one end plugged into the wall so your skin was washed in shades of blue, red, green and yellow. 

The string of lights was much more uncomfortable than the rope, even though that had burned. The wire holding the lights together was so thin, and the small bulbs dug painfully into your skin. If you didn’t know your discomfort was exactly what Bucky wanted, you might’ve let him see how unhappy you were with your current predicament.

Instead, you hid your face in the blankets of the bed, trying to focus on anything except Bucky’s big cock fucking into your cunt at a bruising pace. 

Unfortunately, it was impossible to ignore him, his hard length plowing into your body. Not even the cheery lights wound around your body or the Christmas music playing out of the bluetooth speaker in the corner could distract you from the feel of his cock inside you.

Another jarring smack resounded in the cold basement a brief second before the sting of Bucky’s spank quaked through your body. The strike was hard enough that you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out. You didn’t want to give him that, even if it would’ve been muffled by the blankets under your face.

“How many times do I gotta tell ya, doll,” Bucky huffed, his voice patronizing and impatient, like he was talking to a misbehaving child. “Look at the camera when I’m fucking you.” He spanked you again, so hard you felt your entire body tremble under the weight of it, then he grabbed and groped your ass cruelly enough to leave marks. “Our audience wants to see your face—don’t ya, fellas?”

That last part was directed at the camera. You turned your head, tipping your face toward the lens just in time to catch the reflection of the rakish grin Bucky shot to whoever was watching. 

The chat box on the screen of the laptop set up just out of frame lit up, the audience for your daily stream with Bucky telling the both of you just how much they wanted to see your face while you were fucked by his fat cock. 

Your eyes caught a few of the filthy, degrading messages before looking away. You refused to believe the way your cunt clenched was in response to what you’d read. You absolutely were not getting turned on by the depraved life your captor forced you to live.

Bucky’s large body curled over your back, his hand wrapping around your throat and lifting your head from the bed so the camera could better see your face. The position shoved his cock even deeper into your cunt, ramming painfully against your cervix and, against your will, your face contorted at the twinge deep in your body.

The chat lit up, chimes dinging fast and furious as the messages came in, and Bucky reached for the laptop so he could read what your viewers had written. 

All the while, his hips kept grinding idly against your ass so his cock rubbed even harder into your cervix, making you let out a little whimper of anguish. His fingers tightened around the sides of your neck, enough to cut off your ability to breathe, and your whimper turned into a desperate, scared little keen.

You felt Bucky grin against your cheek, and you could’ve kicked yourself for giving him exactly what he’d wanted—a reaction. But at least his grip loosened, though you knew it was only because he didn’t want you to pass out too soon.

“The chat says you look like such a pretty little toy when I fuck you all tied up like this, doll,” Bucky cooed in your ear, grinding harder into your cunt. 

You sunk your teeth deep into your lower lip as your whole body trembled under the assault of Bucky’s thick cock. Despite yourself, you felt your cunt clench hard around his stiff length, wetness frothing and gushing from your hole as he made a mockery of your protests. 

Before you’d met Bucky, you would’ve sworn you didn’t like pain. You’d have said you hated it, in fact. 

But after so many days and months of being speared open by his fat cock, all three of your holes ravaged by his hard, unrelenting manhood in his need to dominate you, to conquer your body in every way possible, you couldn’t help your pussy’s response to it.

You told yourself it was some kind of defense mechanism, that your body had begun to react to pain the same way it did pleasure. It was the only explanation you could bear to endure. Because if you admitted you’d begun to like the way Bucky fucked you and abused you…

“Ohhh, listen to this one,” Bucky crooned excitedly, drawing you out of your thoughts and giving you a distraction from the way he was working your body toward its undoing. “‘Happy anniversary to the Winter Soldier and his Winter Slut!’”

The names were, of course, fake ones that Bucky had chosen to give the audience of your streams something to call you both. His was based on his past as a sergent, combined with the season when he’d taken you captive, while yours showed his ownership over you.

You hated it. You didn’t want anyone thinking Bucky owned you. 

But Bucky either didn’t notice or ignored the way you grimaced when he read the fake names aloud. He turned his eyes, filled with cheerful wickedness, toward the camera.

“Has it been a year already?”

The question was full of charm, and you could almost imagine it coming from the Bucky you’d originally met. The one who might’ve celebrated your one-year anniversary with a recreation of your first date, ending with a heartfelt proposal that the two of you move in together. 

Instead, the question hadn’t even been asked to you, but to the camera—to the audience of loyal, degenerate perverts who watched your streams. 

The quick, successive chimes from the laptop drew Bucky’s attention back to it, and he hummed in acknowledgement as he read through the messages. 

His fingers squeezed around your throat, making you choke harder for the camera, adding to the small sounds of anguish that were slipping from your lips while he kept up his merciless grinding, his cock bruising your cervix.

A new sound, one like a cash register, joined the dinging chimes of the chat message and your heart sank. 

That was the sound of people in the chat sending extra tips on top of the subscription fees they paid to get access to your streaming channel. It meant they were making requests for Bucky to do something new—and that never resulted in anything good for you.

Before you could glance at the laptop to try to get an idea of what was coming, Bucky sat back on his haunches, hauling you up with his hand around your throat. Between gravity and the change in position, it felt like Bucky’s cock pushed even deeper into your cunt, pressing against your cervix so hard it stole the breath from your lungs.

“It’s the one year anniversary of your very first stream, doll,” Bucky announced gleefully in your ear, using his free hand to slap at your tits. They were bound between two strings of the Christmas lights wrapped around your body, your soft tits highlighted by the shining, multicolored hues. “Do you have anything to say to our audience, my little Winter Slut?”

It was clear Bucky wanted you to thank them for their loyal viewership, but resentment held your tongue. Memories assaulted you of the very first stream you’d been forced to do.

Bucky had pinned you down on that very same bed, using nothing but his strong hands and large body to pin you to the mattress while he tore your cheap lingerie off your body. Then he’d ravaged you, slapping and groping your tits before biting them so hard you’d started crying. 

It had been the only foreplay he’d offered you before he’d shoved his cock deep in your cunt. He was so big and your body was so unprepared that you’d screamed, which only made Bucky laugh. He’d told you, mockingly, that there wasn’t anyone around to hear you scream—only the audience on the dark web where he was streaming your defilement for who knew how many people who were just as vile as Bucky.

Bucky’s fingers digging deep into the sides of your neck brought you back to the present moment, small gasps falling from your lips as he cut off your air again. Your pulse pounded in your head, but you still managed to notice that Frank Sinatra’s “Silent Night” had given way to another Christmas song, the festive music so at odds with the dread and fear pooling in your belly.

“I guess my Winter Slut is feeling ungrateful today, chat,” Bucky said on a laugh. 

His tone was mocking in a way that sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you refused to believe it might be anticipation. Your body quaked when his soft mouth brushed against your cheek, the gesture almost like a kiss as he turned his head so he could murmur in your ear.

“Our audience wants to see something special for our anniversary, doll,” he cooed. “They want to see me break you.” 

Unease and something else flooded your veins, the conflicting emotions warring for dominance as you struggled to make sense of the way your cunt had clenched around Bucky’s cock when he’d said he was going to break you. You pressed your mouth into a grim line, still determined not to show your reaction to Bucky or the camera, especially when you didn’t understand what was happening to you. 

In the year that you’d spent as Bucky’s personal cam star, you’d endured a lot—and if anyone had asked you, you’d have said you hadn’t enjoyed any of it. But over time, that had begun to change. You’d been fighting it, fighting your body’s responses to Bucky and every depraved thing he did to you. It was becoming so hard, and you were growing so tired of fighting, of pretending…

 “I have just the thing—but first, let’s fill this slut’s mouth,” Bucky was telling the camera, and you forced yourself to focus back on the moment to prepare yourself. 

Bucky shifted to the side, grabbing something from the basket of sex toys he kept next to the bed during streams. When you saw what he pulled out, you bit your lip against a helpless whimper.

He’d pulled out a penis gag, but it wasn’t just any normal penis gag—it was one he’d specially ordered for you. Instead of having a two or three inch dick attached to the strip of leather that would tie around your head, there was a full-sized dildo replica of Bucky’s cock. His big, thick cock.

You tried to keep your mouth closed when Bucky pressed the tip of the silicone cock to your lips, but he only tutted at you with a patronizing click of his tongue. Shifting his fingers from your throat to your cheeks, he dug them in until it hurt. Your jaw gave way.

“That’s a good little cock slut, open for your Winter Soldier,” he cooed patronizingly, shoving the fake dick into your mouth without preparation or remorse.

You gagged as the stiff dildo invaded your throat, tears beginning to flow from your eyes and spit dribbling from the corners of your mouth. Your arms yanked against the Christmas lights holding you bound, but that only forced them to dig deeper into your skin, making your struggle hurt that much more.

While you were distracted by trying to adjust to the silicone cock shoved deep inside you, Bucky secured the leather strap around the back of your head, tying it into place and making it impossible for you to do anything but hold the dildo in your mouth and breathe through the way it bulged in your throat.

Then Bucky was dumping you unceremoniously on the mattress and pulling his cock from your cunt, leaving you to fall face first into the blankets while he hopped up off the bed. You were thankful you could muffle your whimper at the loss of him in the sheets, even as you knew that whatever he had planned would be so much worse than him just fucking you while tied up and gagged.

“I was going to save this one for Christmas,” he was saying from behind a privacy screen beside the bed. It was set up to make sure the camera would only show viewers what Bucky wanted them to see—which was you, and everything he did to you. “But since it’s a special occasion, I’ll let you have your present early.”

When Bucky stepped back into view, your heart nearly stopped. 

A leather harness was strapped onto Bucky’s hips, a dildo attached so it hung below his cock. The contraption, which had clearly been specially ordered because you’d never seen anything like it, wasn’t what shocked you, though—it was the size of the dildo. 

The fake dick was easily twice the size of Bucky’s cock, bigger around and just as long. Staring at it with wide eyes, you genuinely didn’t think it would fit in any of your holes, no matter how roughly Bucky tried to stuff it in. But your cunt was between your thighs like it couldn’t wait for him to try.

Despite your dedication not to give Bucky or the audience any kind of reaction, you couldn’t help the, “No, no, no, no, no,” that came from your mouth. You couldn’t fathom the massive dildo fitting inside you, let alone you enjoying it, no matter how much your body warmed at the prospect of being fucked with it.

Your protests were muffled by the gag in your mouth, to the point that your words were indiscernible, but their meaning must’ve been understood because Bucky chuckled as he walked back to you.

“I know what you’re thinking, doll,” Bucky said conversationally while he climbed onto the bed and retook his place behind you. “There’s no way it’ll fit.” 

He grabbed the knotted string of Christmas lights where they crisscrossed between your shoulder blades, pulling your torso up off the bed so your face was level with the camera. You tried not to look at your reflection in the lens, your mouth split open around the dildo in your mouth and your eyes round as saucers, but it was hard not to stare at the look in your eye—the look of something like fear… or excitement.

“But that’s what’s so fun about it,” Bucky went on, dragging the hard length of the silicone dick through your dripping wet folds, coating the fake cock in the mess of wetness your body was leaking against your will. “It will fit—and it’s going to ruin your cunt.”

Once upon a time, you’d thought the same thing about Bucky’s cock. 

The first time you’d had sex with Bucky—before the cabin and the basement and the camera—you’d taken one look at his cock and whimpered in fear. But he’d been so gentle, promising you that he’d take it slow, that your pussy was made to fit his cock. 

He’d taken his time, kissing your lips and cheeks and all over your face while he worked his cock into your pussy, giving you another inch only when you’d adjusted to the last and relaxed in his arms. Slowly, and with what seemed like an endless amount of patience, he’d opened you up for him. 

That night, he’d made love to you in deep, toe-curling strokes that had wrecked you. He’d seemingly rearranged your body to be the perfect fit for his cock, and then he’d given you the best orgasm of your life.

No wonder you hadn’t stood a chance. 

More than a year later, the memory felt like a dream. It was so faded around the edges, aged by the months spent taking Bucky’s cock roughly, furiously, whenever and wherever he wanted, all while he streamed your debasement for the audience on the dark web.

“You’re going to be so loose that you won’t even feel my cock anymore, doll,” Bucky was saying as he dragged you back to the moment by thrusting his own hard length into your cunt, soaking himself in your juices. “You’ll have to beg me to fuck you with this massive dildo just to feel anything again.” He paused, chuckling to himself as he bent over you, pressing a kiss to your spine between your shoulder blades before murmuring darkly, “That’s your Christmas present this year.”

Then, without anymore preamble, Bucky sat up and pulled out. You didn’t even have time to beg or whine before he lined his cock and the dildo up at the entrances to your tight holes, then shoved both into you at the same time. Bucky buried himself inside you so deeply, so thoroughly, that it felt like he was pushing into the very core of your being, conquering your soul just as completely as he’d conquered your body.

The intrusion was so sudden, you never had a hope of preparing, and all you felt was the devastating sting of being stretched past your limit, the overwhelming ache of being stuffed full beyond what you thought your body could ever take. 

Pain eclipsed any semblance of pleasure you might’ve gotten from having both your holes stuffed full, and your eyes rolled back in your head, a piercing cry tearing from your throat. A white hot burn scorched through your body, and your mind went entirely blank, leaving nothing but depraved annihilation in its wake. 

“Oh fuck, fellas, she’s so fucking tight like this,” Bucky groaned, talking over your head into the camera. “I can feel the fake cock splitting her open—it’s making her ass so fucking tight.”

Humiliation and shame swept through your body at his words, turning the burn into something slightly more bearable, almost pleasurable. There was something about being ignored, being treated like nothing more than a fleshlight or a fuck doll while Bucky completely decimated your body that was so… 

You shook your head. No. You weren’t going to finish that thought.

“Fuck, I don’t know how long ‘m gonna last,” Bucky was grumbling, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your audience.

The words should’ve sounded like music to your ears. You should’ve been happy the torture was almost over. Instead, you felt a pang of disappointment deep in your heart. But you didn’t have time to unpack what that could mean because then Bucky started fucking you.

His hips pulled back until only the tip of his cock and the dildo were still in your ass and pussy, then he plowed forward, shunting his entire length and the fat, massive fake cock into your holes once again. The pain of being split open was already starting to fade, an all-consuming pleasure creeping into the edges of your awareness against your will.

On Bucky’s third thrust, you moaned. 

Your mind was hazy with a mixture of pain and pleasure that was leaning more toward the latter, and with the cock gag in your mouth, you were helpless against the reactions Bucky was wringing from your body. The sound of pleasure slipped from your lips unbidden, and your face heated in shame, which only served to add more fuel to the fire burning through your body.

“Did ya hear that, chat?” Bucky crowed, slapping your ass painfully hard—hard enough that another muffled cry was wrenched from your mouth. “Our little Winter Slut is enjoying her Christmas present! She loves getting her cunt ruined, don’t ya, doll?”

He slammed deep into your body as he asked the question and you were powerless, incapable of doing anything but moaning obscenely for the camera, tears streaming down your cheeks and joining the spit that coated the lower half of your face. Long strings of drool and tears were hanging from your chin, dripping onto the bedsheets below.

Distantly, you heard the chimes from the chat log and the cash register sounds as messages and money poured in. They were coming so fast and so furious that you couldn’t even begin to fathom how much money you were making for Bucky while he broke you with his cocks.

Bucky must’ve heard the sounds too, because he doubled his efforts. He picked up the pace of his thrusts, fucking you hard and fast, spanking your ass mercilessly while his other hand still held you up off the bed by your Christmas light restraints. It meant that your face was framed perfectly in the camera frame.

It occurred to you that you should let your gaze drift off, let your mind retreat somewhere deep inside itself where you could hide from Bucky and what he was doing to your body. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the camera’s display panel.

There, you could see the scene Bucky had constructed—your body tied up in glittering, technicolor Christmas lights; your face covered in tears and drool, lips spread thin around the base of the cock gag; your throat bulging from the fake dick buried deep in your mouth; your tits bouncing between the strands of lights.

Behind you, with a look of deeply depraved joy on his face, was Bucky Barnes. 

He was naked save for the harness belted around his hips and the santa hat on his head. His big body was on display just as much as yours, his broad chest swathed in pale skin and chiseled muscles, his arms bulging as he held you up and spanked your ass. 

Bucky’s dark hair was falling into his handsome face, but the strands didn’t hide the merry grin on his lips or the way his blue eyes glittered with wicked delight as he stared down at the place where his cock and the massive dildo were brutally fucking your holes.

It was too much to watch your defilement. It was too depraved and too…hot.

God help you, but something must’ve finally broken inside you because it was so fucking hot to watch yourself be violated on camera while jaunty Christmas music played in the background and hundreds, if not thousands, of perverts watched Bucky have his way with you. 

Your pussy spasmed and clenched around the fake cock in your hole as you thought about those people watching you. It turned you on that the audience knew Bucky was fucking you against your will and not only were they doing nothing about it, they were taking their own pleasure from watching you be ravaged. Your cunt drooled even more.

Bucky Barnes had officially broken you. 

That was the only conclusion you could reach, because when you’d met him more than a year ago, you never would’ve imagined that your pussy would be creaming all over a fat, girthy dildo while Bucky fucked your ass and held you tied up with Christmas lights for anyone on the dark web to watch. 

But after a year of being fucked hard in every one of your holes, Bucky had finally broken you down until you’d joined him on his level. He’d torn away every ounce of shame, every bit of what had made you you, and remade you in the image of his perfect toy. You were a doll, his doll, just like he called you.

The realization filled you with a sense of peace you never would’ve expected, your body relaxing as your mind went blissfully blank. It was easier this way, you told yourself, as you breathed a sigh of relief. All that was left of you was Bucky Barnes’ perfect doll—his Winter Slut cam star.

Bucky must’ve felt or somehow sensed your submission because he groaned a filthy sound of pleasure and shoved his hips flush against your ass. He paused for a moment, his hand groping your ass possessively before pulling back and ramming home again, burying himself even deeper inside you, the massive dildo bullying your cervix as he pounded into you.

“That’s my girl, take your Winter Soldier’s cock like a good little fuck doll,” Bucky purred, his voice taking on a tenor of contentment you’d never heard before. It was like he was praising you for your submission, for finally giving yourself over to him, mind, body and soul. “You’re being such a perfect Winter Slut, taking me so good and crying so pretty for the camera.”

You preened under his praise, using what little strength remained in your body to shove your hips back onto Bucky’s cocks, fake and real alike, while you sucked enthusiastically on the fake dick in your mouth. Tears flowed harder from your eyes and you sobbed your pleasure, choked sounds of enjoyment falling from your lips.

You could feel the most devastating orgasm of your life building in the core of your being, and you were eager to chase it, knowing it would rewrite the fundamental fabric of your self. 

“Fuck yeah, doll, be my perfect little cam star,” Bucky rumbled, slapping your ass in encouragement, the sting of pain swirling with the pleasure he was wringing from your body and adding to the burning bliss scorching through you. “Show the chat how good my Winter Slut can cry for their money—show them how much you love feeling me ruin your holes for Christmas.”

Bucky rutted into you, pounding into your cunt and ass so hard that the clapping of his hips against your skin was filling the basement and almost drowning out the new Christmas song that had begun. It felt so good, so fucking good to be fucked and filled in every hole, that you were close—so close you could nearly taste it.

“Fucking take it, Winter Slut, take the only cock you’ll ever feel again,” Bucky growled, curling around your body and taking your throat in his hand. He squeezed tightly, grinding his cock and dildo into your body, so deep, you could feel them in your guts. “For the rest of your life, you’re gonna do nothing but take my cock and be my pretty little cam star—you’re all fucking mine.”

Something snapped inside you and you felt liquid gush between your thighs, coating the massive fake cock in your cunt. Your squirt sprayed down to soak the sheets beneath you, and all you could do was revel in the pleasure flooding your body, every limb trembling with the force of it while you gasped and cried around Bucky’s hold on your throat.

When he realized what you’d done, Bucky whooped with triumph, crowing into the camera that he’d made you squirt, that you were his perfect little fuck doll cam star. But you were too consumed by your oncoming release, which was barreling toward you with the force of a freight train. 

Before it finally hit you, and you came so hard your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you passed out, Bucky wrapped himself more tightly around your body, his chest pressing into your back and his arms wrapping around your front. He choked you with one big hand while the other groped and played roughly with your tits.

To your surprise, he brushed a kiss to your cheek in a gesture that felt affectionate.

“You’re making me so fucking proud, doll,” he cooed in your ear, and you thought, for a moment, that he sounded just like the sweet Bucky Barnes you’d met all those months ago. “You’re the best Christmas present I ever could’ve asked for.” 

Just then, your release slammed into you and you screamed—and there wasn’t anyone around to hear you except Bucky and his camera. 

Overwhelming pleasure washed through you, darkness creeping into the edges of your consciousness as your body convulsed and you choked on the dildo in your throat while your other holes clenched around the cocks that had split you open beyond your limit.

The last thing you heard before the weight of your release dragged you under was the festive synth pop chords of another Christmas song, and Wham! singing, “This year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special.” 

Somewhere inside you, you knew that everything was going to change once you woke up. Bucky had finally broken you, and you’d given him your ultimate submission. Nothing would be the same, but you found that that didn’t scare you as much as it once might have.

You belonged to Bucky Barnes and you’d finally accepted that as fact. He’d taken everything else, but you still had your heart left to give—and you were certain it wouldn’t be long before you gave him that too. Maybe, at least, it would save you from tears…

As you came so hard you passed out, you accepted that your thoughts, your pleasure, your mind, your body, your soul—your everything—belonged to Bucky Barnes. Then, everything went black.

december daze challenge masterlist

[chuluoyi]

HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre/warnings: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

[solaireverie]

op81 | best he'll ever write

summary: [ author!oscar piastri x f!driver!reader — social media au ] being the partner and muse of a celebrated author means that fans start connecting the dots sooner rather than later

faceclaim: gracie abrams

author’s note: i'm secretly a ya romcom book girlie and i feel like that shows SO MUCH in this fic 🙈 delusional for life!

[ masterlist / guidelines / lola's masterlist / series masterlist ]

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, liakblock and 534,230 others

geotag: melbourne, australia

yourusername short break down under 🐨

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user great race at the australian gp y/n!

↪ user first points of the season let's goooo

↪ yourusername and hopefully many more to come 🙌

logansargeant STRAYAAA 🦘🇦🇺🦘🇦🇺

↪ yourusername VEGEMITE ON TOAST 🤤

↪ user sometimes i forget that logan and y/n are both gen z 😂

user the puppy is so adorable 🥺

↪ user i wonder whose it is 👀 y/n's said that her schedule doesn't allow for pets

oscarpiastri not my birthday cake...

↪ yourusername sorry not sorry 😉

↪ user who the hell is oscar piastri and why is y/n replying to his comment 😭

↪ user don't you talk about my favourite best-selling author like that 🤺

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you replied to oscarpiastri's story

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yourusername can't believe that little kid is now a 3-time nyt best-selling author 🥹 so proud of you oscarpiastri 💗 i haven't been able to put eighty-one seconds down 📖 available in bookstores near you!

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user i love how y/n always supports and promotes oscar's books 🥺

↪ user they're so adorable together my heart can't take it

oscarpiastri Thanks for the encouragement. Couldn't have done it without you 👍

↪ yourusername damn right you couldn't have 😤

user okay but who took the photo of y/n 👀

↪ user i'm betting it was oscar 😜

↪ user hello what 😳😳😳

↪ user oh my sweet summer child...

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oscarpiastri Thank you to everyone who's been on this journey with me. Eighty-One Seconds is finally yours and we can't be more happy to share it with you. As many of you have guessed, it is my homage to Y/N and all the time we have spent together. My wife, my love, my heart. I'm grateful that you're in my life. Forgive me for re-using my words, but here's to eighty-one more years together.

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user hold on a damn second 🤚 his WIFE??? when was this a thing 🧐

↪ yourusername 🤭

↪ user give us answers please 🙏 i haven't had peace since oscar posted this

yourusername i love you too, oscar jack piastri 🤍

↪ user oh he literally named his mc after himself 😭

↪ user GOODBYE??? JACK AS IN HIS MIDDLE NAME??? oh my god they really weren't subtle

williamsracing signed copy when 😏

↪ hachetteaus already on its way 🫡

user honestly i'm surprised they managed to hide their relationship for this long 💀

↪ user oh they did NOT we were just blind

↪ logansargeant I didn't find out until I got the wedding invitation in the mail 🤝

↪ landonorris i think that's just cause you're oblivious mate 😂

↪ logansargeant what???

↪ landonorris they literally make out all the time in williams hospitality

↪ yourusername lando... 😒

user if your man isn't writing a book professing his love for you, what's he doing with his life?

↪ user oscar's set the standard 😌

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[dumpywrites]

Two Days - Jungkook

Summary: He just wants you to give him two days. He'll take you on a few dates and you'll decided if you actually like him? Or not?

Genre/tags: mostly fluff, tiny bit of angst, friends to lovers, biker jungkook, jungkook is a goofball and a simp! :)

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

a/n: this is my first ever bts/jk fic, I'm just trying this out since i have some days off from work, hope y'all like it <3

“Please?”

“No.” 

“You’re missing out.” 

“Jungkook, we’re literally in a Burger King.”

You heard the man playfully saying, “Yes, and?” in a singing tone. All you could do was rolling your eyes in reply. Jeon Jungkook, this guy who had been begging you for his so-called masterplan that he called, “trial date” for weeks, was now yet again begging you for a chance.

You could not exactly pinpoint when it actually began. He was shy the first time you met. You had known the rest of the boys ever since you met Yoongi at an art class. The cold looking guy who was surprisingly friendly and soft-hearted, later on introduced you to the rest of the guys. Jungkook was introduced almost a year later into befriending the group. He was a guy who went to the same gym as Namjoon. They became friends ever since he offered Namjoon a ride one time. 

Being the youngest amongst the guys and also the latest you got to meet, you would think that his shyness would linger at least a little bit longer. Then again, if you really think about it, he probably only stayed quiet and shy on the first meeting. 

The idea of both of you together was never mentioned until recently. Namjoon was the one who started calling out Jungkook’s odd behavior towards you, but the nail on the coffin was when you all got drunk at Jimin’s house that one time. 

It was Jimin’s birthday and truthfully, you knew the guy was loaded rich, but you did not know he was rich with capital R. The selection of bottles in his house was pretty much unlimited from the ones you like to the ones you couldn’t even name. It was five hours into all the celebration and you all were blurting nonsense. You were tipsy, but still aware cause for some reason you were winning all the games that night and got to drink less. But Jungkook on the other hand, who was usually winning everything, was getting pissy cause he kept coming second after you. 

“This is unbelievable.” Jungkook groaned, casually throwing the boardgame cards on the table. 

“You just have a soft spot for her.” Jin shrugged. 

“I do not! I just have a crush on her.” Jungkook retorted back, as if his sentence made any sense. 

You heard Hoseok voiced a small “oh” with his usual judgy expression, and the rest were silent for a second, including you. 

“I mean…” Jungkook tried to correct himself but stopped mid-way, trying to make up words in his already drunk mind. His eyes went back and forth to everyone before he scoffed. “You all act so surprised, as if you didn’t tease me everyday right after the first time I met Y/N.” 

When the room was still silent, Jungkook realized he fucked up, his blurry mind completely ignored the fact that you, the subject of this topic, was in fact also in the room. 

“Shit.” Was all he muttered before he excused himself to the bathroom, and did not come out for twenty minutes. 

When he was done, everyone had decided to wrap it up due to the awkwardness and the absence of Jungkook himself. He found Taehyung and Jin sleeping on both sides of Jimin’s big couch, and a small smile formed on his lips, shaking his head over the dumb expression they had in their sleep. His stomach soon flipped right after he saw you on the kitchen, making yourself a cup of instant noodle. 

“Oh, hey.” You greeted awkwardly. “I got hungry from all that drinking.” You shyly mentioned. 

Jungkook only nodded and took a seat on one of the dinning chairs. 

“You want some?” You offered, trying to break the ice. 

“Y/N stop.” His eyes widened once he realized how bad that sounded. “I mean… I didn’t mean it like that?” He chuckled dryly, it was more of a statement rather than a question. 

When you kept quiet but sat down next to him regardless, and ate your noodles, he decided you were at least comfortable enough to hear him talk. “This whole huge crush on you thingy… that’s not gonna ruin our friendship or anything, right? If you’re uncomfortable I’ll just stop showing up when you’re around for a—”

“What?! No! Jungkook, I’m not uncomfortable.” You sighed. “I’m just a bit surprised, I guess.”

“Why though?” He asked innocently, his big doe eyes looking straight at you, making you slightly nervous. 

“It’s just… you do realize you’re quite popular right?”

“What’s that gotta do with this situation?”

“I thought I wasn’t your type.” 

“You don’t get to decide that.”

That was the last civil conversation you had with him until he decided it was a good idea to cling to you almost every single day, pestering on the idea of this whole trial dating. Everyone other than Yoongi, who was neutral (read: don't really care enough to actually voice an opinion at the moment), was pretty much on board with his plan. You being single for a year now definitely did not help your case. They kept saying that you needed to lit up your dating engine again, so it wouldn’t be rusty. 

It was not that you did not find Jungkook attractive. Heck, he was one of the most attractive person you had ever laid your eyes on. It was just, weird? He felt like a brother, the same as the rest of the boys. If you didn’t treat any of them different, then you should not with Jungkook either, right?

“Have you maybe considered that maybe she’s tired of your bullshit?” Yoongi blurted with a blank expression, as he continue to munch on his burger. 

“It’s only been two weeks.” Jungkook protested. “Besides, you never know 'till you try, right?” He winked at you. 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m good, Kookie.” You pinched his cheeks, a little bit too hard. 

“H-hey!” He pouted, his cheeks forming even rounder. “Two days! Two days!” He suddenly shouted. 

“Oh boy…” Hoseok side-eyed the rest of you, clearly done with the younger one. 

“Give me two days, Y/N!” He said with his two fingers right in front of your face. “You don’t have plans this weekend, right?”

“Hey, maybe—“ Namjoon didn’t even get to finish his sentence before the lad interrupted. 

“I’ll take you on two dates and then you can decide afterwards.” He grinned, as if that was the most brilliant thing he had ever thought of. “If you still don’t like me after that then I will gracefully back off.” He threw his hands in the air. 

“You promise?” You suddenly spoke, after being silent for a while. 

“Wait, you’re actually considering—“ Jin stood up from his seat, almost knocking his table. 

Jungkook hurriedly covered Jin’s mouth, not letting yet another man finish his sentence again. “I promise!” He saluted, grinning so hard his cheeks almost hurt. 

“Are you really sure?” Yoongi whispered to you. 

You only shrugged. Truthfully, you were not sure either. But at this point, you just wanted Jungkook to get over his girl hyperfixation of the month. Which was, you. 

You just did not buy the story of him being head over heels on you since day one. As if he didn’t look like a Greek god himself? As if you did not know how women and even men would kill just to get a taste of him. You just wanted him to get it over with, so he can realize how weird the whole idea was and went back to being the goofball friend you once knew. 

—

Right, so.

Now here you were, basically having a mini dress-up montage moment, picking an outfit for your cinema date. Even after spending almost an hour getting ready you ended up with just wearing your usual crop top and baggy jeans, hoping it will be fine. Clearly you didn’t wanna seem like a try-hard. It was just Jungkook. He had seen you with pajamas and you didn’t hear him complain, so there shouldn’t be a problem. Why did you even go through the trouble to pick an outfit? You wondered yourself. 

Ten minutes later and Jungkook was already ringing your phone. 

“I’m at your lobby!” He exclaimed loudly over the phone. 

“You’re early.”

“Just can’t wait to see you.” You could not see his face, but you knew he was grinning like an idiot. “Hurry down! Oh, and bring your jacket.”

You didn’t expect him to came with a motorbike. A huge one not to mention. Something stirred in your stomach for a millisecond seeing him in a leather jacket. 

He took a spare helmet and innocently handed it to you. “Gotta make sure my girl is safe.” He sheepishly said. 

You tried your best to ignore the nickname, and spoke. “I didn’t know you ride a motorcycle.” You said, taking the helmet he gave in your hands. 

“I’m just too lazy to drive sometimes so I just lift on Hobi’s car.” He shrugged. “Why? Are you scared?” He teased. 

“Of course not.” You said and put on the helmet. You did not miss his small snickers when you struggle to hop on his Harley, having to grab him by his shoulders. 

“Okay, just wanna let you know, I drive like suuuuuper fast. So, you have to hug me to be safe!” He giggled. 

You rolled your eyes, even if he couldn’t see. “I’m just gonna head back upstairs...”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss.” He chuckled. “I’m a good driver, Namjoon approved! But you can grab onto my jacket if you want.” 

—

The movie was great. 

And that was a lie, cause truth to be told, you could barely focus on the plot. Every time you caught a glimpse of the boy next to you, his eyes were already looking at you. While it was true that you had not been dating for quite some time, you could feel your spidey-sense tingling, as if you were to turn your head towards him, something would happen. Thinking about it was not exactly the best thing for you.

“We’re getting ice cream.” Jungkook cheerfully said, as you both walked out the cinema. 

“That’s not a question?” You couldn’t help but to smile at the silliness. 

“Not a chance I’m letting you go home yet.” 

“Is this a date or a kidnapping?” 

“Could be both if you want.” He laughed. “So…” He cutely put his hands in his pockets as you walked. 

“So?”

“So… how’s life?” 

“You did not just ask me that.” You laughed.

“What? I’m just trying to make actual conversation!” He laughed as well, but later on his expression softened. “You seemed down these past couple of days though?” 

You tilted your head slightly. You didn’t think he would notice. 

“You… noticed?”

“Of course I did!” He grinned, patting his chest proudly. “You didn’t talk that much at our last movie night at Taehyung’s. You usually love to debate after watching a movie.” He chuckled. "The fact that you're not even starting a discussion right now, is lowkey concerning."

That was because of an entirely different thing, but you chose not to say. “I haven't even told Yoongi.” 

“Even if you tell him, he wouldn’t tell anyone either, so what’s your point?” 

“That’s fair.” You broke a small smile. 

“What happened?” He stopped mid-track, suddenly losing a bit of confidence in his speaking tone. “I mean, only if you’re comfortable enough to tell me…”

Your expression softened. “It’s a bit stupid…”

“It’s okay, I’ll listen!” He nodded towards you. “I’ll just quickly grab those ice cream and we’ll sit down somewhere?” 

Minutes later he came back with two ice creams and a big stupid grin plastered on his face as usual. “Here you go, let’s sit down on that bench.”

You nodded and thanked him before following him to the bench. 

“Come sit close to me!” He patted right next to him. When you only looked at him blankly. He added, “Please?”

You sat down close to him but left a bit of space enough so that your shoulders wouldn’t touch. 

“Are you cold?” 

“Uh… no.”

“Okay, good.” He smiled and took a big bite of his ice cream. “So, do you still wanna tell me? Or we could also just sit and talk shit about Jin while we eat ice cream if you don’t want!”

You smiled. Looking into his eyes, you could feel his sincerity. It could be just you, but you felt somewhat… safe. 

“I used to date this one guy… We dated for three months before I ended things with him.” 

You looked up to Jungkook, expecting to see a negative expression but he remained silent, only nodding to signal you to continue. 

“To be fair we haven’t been in touch for almost a year, but he suddenly called me. He was drunk and said a bunch of nonsense. I still replied at first, cause I was worried for his safety. But after I found out he was drunk at home, I bid my goodbye. Then he suddenly said…” You took a deep breath. “He said that I’m a 4.5 with a bitch attitude and being picky won’t help me.” You broke into a sad grin. “It’s stupid, I know—“

“Who is this fucker? Can I beat the shit outta him? How come I’ve never heard about this?!”

“Probably cause this is how you react.” You chuckled. “It had me quite bothered for quite sometime, maybe the fact that I also haven’t dated in a while adds to it, but I guess I feel somewhat better now.” 

“So that’s why you said you thought you weren’t my type?” 

“Huh?”

“That fucker needs to get his eyes and brain checked.” He shook his head. “You know, it’s fine to not want to settle for less.” He said as he looked at the sun setting in the sky. “He’s just butthurt you don’t want him back.” 

You stayed silent but nodded.

“His dick’s probably small anyway.” When you slapped his arm, he laughed. “What? Am I wrong? Why did you even break up with him?”

“He's sexist!”

“And his dick is small.” He followed. 

“Jungkook!” You began to laugh as well. 

“You know you’re easily a ten, but I’ll give a nine for now.” He said, pretending to be serious with rubbing his chin and squinting his eyes. 

“Why? What deduct the one point?”

“Cause you haven’t like me back yet.” 

“God, make that at least five points then, I hate you.” You rolled your eyes, but laughed. 

He smiled softly. “Feeling better?” 

“Well, I guess? But now my ice cream's all melty.” You pouted, trying to lick some that was melting down the cone. 

“That’s why you eat fast like me.” He proudly said. 

“And have stomach problem? No thanks.”

“Here let me just…” He licked a stripe from your cone and took a big bite. “There.”

You were taken aback. So stunned that you could only blink a few times at him. 

“What? Don’t tell me that turned you on?” He smirked. 

“You… Jungkook, that’s gross!” You whined, which only resulted in his laughter. 

—

The next day Jungkook wanted a full day date. Boy kept saying that he wanted fair chance since it was his last day. He already planned a list of things both of you would do and all, and the first being eating brunch with you. 

“Do you really have to come this early?” You complained as you opened your apartment door for the guy. 

When the said guy sheepishly didn’t move and enter, you raised one of your eyebrows. His hands were behind his back, clearly holding something, and you can see both of his arms flexed, seemingly grasping something tightly. You were searching for his boyish grin, but his expression seemed worried instead. 

“I got you flowers.” He said, sounding discouraged. 

“Oh?” You replied, but wondered why he just kept standing and not move. 

“I found out last minute that you don’t like flowers…” He frowned. “Yoongi told me in the group chat after I got too excited and sent them a pic of the flowers I got you.”

He looked like a lost puppy, and suddenly you had the urge to hug him to ease all his pain away. You stopped yourself before the impulse got the best of you and you grabbed him by the forearm, dragging him inside and closing the door. 

“You can’t stay in that position the whole day, you have to hand me the flowers.” You folded your arms, trying to hold in a chuckle. 

“But you don’t like them!”

“I haven’t even seen them.”

He finally moved his hands and revealed a small bouquet of fresh daisies. It was a simple bouquet, nothing too extravagant with a brown wrapping paper. It somehow reminded you of his smile and how radiant he looked when he did so. Yes, you did not like flowers, they were unpractical, it felt like an unnecessary addition, a waste of space. But somehow you like it. It made you feel all warm and fuzzy and it was very pleasant. It made you wanna accept it with open arms. Truthfully, the description did not really feel like it was describing flowers anymore, but you decided to not further ponder on it. 

“Thank you.” You took the flowers and sniffed it, before setting it down on your table. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know, I feel so dumb cause everyone knew already and—“

“Hey, we’ve only known each other for three months.” You assured. “Besides, it’s really not much of a big deal, I actually like them.” 

“You do???”

“Yeah, they look pretty. I don’t know how long I can keep them looking like that though.” 

“Oh my god…” He exhaled deeply. “I was so worried it would be a deal breaker or something. I was literally shaking!”

He laughed and showed his right hand in front of you, it was shaking slightly. You didn’t know why he laughed at it, you didn’t find it funny. 

“It happens sometimes when I’m nervous.” He chuckled. 

Instead of saying something, you took his hand into yours just by intuitive. It was impulsive, but you let go before he had the chance to intertwine his fingers with yours. He didn’t comment on your behavior, but a smile was still on his face as he waited for you to grab your things to go. 

The brunch was on this small cafe near your place. You insisted on paying this time, since he paid for yesterday. The brunch was spent with him trying to sneakily hold your hand, but failed every single time. 

Next activity on the list was buying clothes together. As cringey as that sounded, and you even almost opposed the idea, Jungkook said that he needed to buy new outfit and he wanted to hear your feedback. Plus, some of his clothes barely fit him anymore since he decided to become a gym rat. 

“You actually look great in those skirt.” 

“You’re joking.” You denied, but twirled around in front of the mirror anyway, while trying to convince yourself that you didn’t need the purchase. 

“I’ll buy them for you if you won’t.” 

“We didn’t have all those money-saving talk with Namjoon only for you to say that.” You folded your arms. 

“Oh come on, you look great!” He pointed to you and his lips forming into a small pout. “Besides, we’re on a date today so I think that’s a pretty good excuse.” 

“I thought we are here to help you buy some clothes, not buy me skirt that I probably won’t wear that often.” 

“Let me spoil you for once… please?” He begged, eyes all sparkly. His lips shined along with his two lip piercings. 

“Alright, fine... I’ll get the skirt, but!” You eyed him. “Only if you buy that straight-cut jeans you just tried before.”

“Deal.”

“That’s it? You’re not gonna argue on how those aren’t on trend anymore?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“I was gonna buy them anyways. You were practically drooling when I showed you.” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you. “Kinda was just waiting for you to admit it…”

You only rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t open your lips to deny his words either. 

After you changed back into your clothes and Jungkook paid for the purchases, he went back to you with a sly grin on his face and you immediately suspected something. He came back with a pair of matching string bracelet. 

“You can just not wear them later if you don’t want to, but let me be delusional for today, okay?”

You both left the store after you let him put the bracelet on your wrist. 

Next in line was spending time on a local amusement park. It was nothing too extreme, just a small carnival that has a few rides and snack booths. The guy kept insisting that you both should take a picture when the sun set. 

“Cotton candy!” Jungkook sprinted to the booth like a hungry kid, his laughter could be heard even as him getting far from where you were standing. 

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you walked to his direction. 

“Pink, blue, or green?” 

“Blue, maybe?”

“Alright.” He grinned and paid the seller as they handed the blue cotton candy stick. “Why blue though?” 

“Dunno, just kinda matches your outfit.”

“Sweetheart, I’m wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt.” He giggled. 

Which should be a crime! Cause who even looks that good in a basic white t-shirt??? You thought to yourself. “Your jeans, I guess..?”

“If you say so.” He chuckled. “Wanna ride the ferris wheel?”

“Being in a such small space with you sounds dangerous.” 

“I’ll protect you, babe.” He winked. 

“The danger is you, babe.” You mocked. 

He smirked, clearly amused. “Well, at least I got you to call me babe, that’s a win for me.” 

“You’re anno— hmph!” He stuffed a ball of cotton candy in your mouth, laughing continuously at the sight. 

After wandering around for a while and finishing the cotton candy, Jungkook dragged you to the shooting game. You refused, saying how you never really win these kind of games, but knowing him, losing was never really his thing. You saw how big the main prize was and you know Jungkook, you knew his ego, you knew damn well that was what he was aiming. 

“If you’re aiming for that giant teddy bear, don’t. We can’t carry that thing around...”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” He didn’t listen and instead paid for the game tickets. 

“We can’t carry that in your motorcycle, that’s like another passenger!”

“Just watch me.” He smirked, already aiming with the toy gun. 

You rolled your eyes, there’s really no telling him on this. “Fine, whatever.” 

After just two shots, you hear him jump in celebration, fist in the air and the staff rang the bell for him winning the price. You were ready to complain, but the staff handed you a small frog plushie instead. You looked at Jungkook and saw his boyish grin, his eyes almost turned into crescents. You looked back at the plushie in your hands and couldn’t lie to yourself, it was very adorable. 

“You didn’t aim for the grand prize?”

“You told me not to.” He shrugged. “Plus, you like frogs, right?”

“Well…” 

“I wished I took a picture of your expression when they handed you the plushie.” He laughed, a soft blush decorating his cheeks. 

You finally agreed to ride the ferris wheel with him. The park was going to close in an hour anyway, and you thought why not, it wouldn’t hurt anyone to go for one ride. 

You sat across him, hugging the frog plushie on your lap. It was silent for the first few minutes, but it was comfortable, not awkward. You were just looking at the view from above and silently admiring it. 

“Did you have fun?” He asked. Suddenly your attention went back to him and his smile. 

“Well, yeah… I did.” You nodded. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me, I had fun too.” He smiled. “Everything’s fun with you though so I may be biased…” 

You didn’t really know what to say to counter his words. You just smiled and went back to looking at the window. 

“Mind if I sit next to you?”

“Uh… sure. Just be careful, you might tilt the cart.” 

Jungkook carefully moved to sit next to you. He muttered a small “phew” as he sat down. “Wow, the view’s better here.” He said, looking straight at you. 

“What do you mean? How—” And then it clicked to you. “Oh my god… shut up!” You hit his arm, and he laughed. 

“Take my compliment for once!” 

“Never.” You stuck your tongue out. 

The ride soon came to an end. You remembered that you promised Jungkook to take a picture with the sunset, but out of nowhere it started to rain. Although it was just small drizzle, it’s hard to take picture and avoid getting soaked at the same time. You both ran to the nearest sheltered place, with Jungkook’s leather jacket covering both of you. 

You said your sorry about his now wet jacket, but the boy did not seem to be bothered, as you can see how bright and happy he was, just from running with you under the rain. You sighed, but an idea came to you as soon as you saw a photo booth machine, not far from where you were standing. 

“Do you… maybe wanna do that instead?”

“Photobooth?” He looked at you, as if he couldn’t believe your words. 

“Why? You don’t want to?”

“No! I want to!” He said, almost too quickly. “But it’s just weird that you suggest it. But it’s a good weird!” He chuckled. 

“I promised you a picture, so we’re getting a picture.” 

“Aww.” Jungkook pout his lips in a kissy way, teasing you. 

“Let’s go before I regret it.” You dragged him inside the booth. 

The first pose you playfully put peace signs behind Jungkook’s head, giving him bunny ears, while he only stuck out his tongue. The second one, Jungkook made a love sign with both of his hands, and you surprised him with a middle finger, which he yelled at you afterwards, but couldn’t really continue to complain as the countdown for the next photo were already starting. 

Since Jungkook spent at least three and a half seconds with his protest, you both were panicking for the last picture, running out of ideas. As the countdown stating two, he suddenly pulled you closer and leaned on your shoulder. The shutter flashed and the photo was taken. You were still in awe and couldn’t process what just happened. You only followed when you saw Jungkook making his way out from the booth to collect the picture. 

The guy giggled like a highschool boy, taking the printed photos, then giving one copy to you. You stared at the last picture, how genuine Jungkook’s smile when he leaned on your shoulder, while you had your eyes widened in surprise. You felt your face heating in embarrassment. 

“Ugh… can we just cut out the last picture?” 

“I was thinking the same thing, I’m putting it on my wallet!” He said, eyes still looking up and down on the set of photos. 

When you only looked at him in disbelief, he uttered a small “what?”, and laughed. 

Both of you ended up eating some cups of ramen in a nearby convenience store, as you wait for the rain to stop pouring. He took you home right after, insisting on waking you to your door. 

“Take care of little Kookie for me, yeah?” He said, pointing at your frog plushie, as you stopped at your unit’s front door. 

“Why is he named after you?” You chuckled. 

“I’m his father!” He pretended to be offended.

“Well, say bye to your papa now, little Kookie.” You waved the plushie’s small hand to him. 

Jungkook felt his heart somersault. He turned away for a second, covering his mouth. He cleared his throat. “Well, uh… thank you again, for today…”

“Yeah! Thank you too…” You chewed your inner lips, hugging your plushie close. 

“I uh…” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “I just wanna let you know that what I said to you… about deciding whether you like me or not after the dates… I was just saying stuff. I don’t wanna pressure you into deciding your feelings for me or anything, I genuinely just wanna spend some time with you, and I’m thankful for your time.” 

You nodded, smiling at him. Your eyes locked with each other for a quick second. Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was the moonlight, or the lamp in front of your door that you recently just got replaced. Either way, you could see the stars in Jungkook’s eyes and his skin glowed, but so did his lips. They were practically sparkling and glossy, you wondered if he had put any lip balm over it. For a moment, your attention stopped at his lips, just wondering how it would feel against yours. Would it be soft? Would you feel the cold metal of his lip piercing against your skin? 

The man in front of you seemed to be lost in his thoughts as well. You swore you saw his eyes darted to your lips for a quick glance, before coming back to your eyes. Just when he leaned down a bit to your height level… 

You froze. What was that? You felt your stomach turned, you couldn’t exactly point out whether it was due to nervousness, or if you were simply just afraid. You took a step back and your back almost hit the front door.

“You should head back, it could rain again soon…” You said, looking away. 

“Oh.” There was disappointment in his voice. “Okay then… bye.” He waved to you awkwardly and walked away. 

As you see his figure walking away, you went inside your apartment and closed the door behind you. Sitting down on your sofa, you put your hand over your chest. Funny how your heart was still beating so fast. You were panicking, feeling everything all at once. Nervousness, excitement, curiosity, but mostly fright. The unknown territory was making you scared. The new feelings you were feeling, you didn’t even know if it would be okay to feel it. 

Still laying down on your sofa, you took your phone and dialed your best friend. 

“You called.” You heard Yoongi’s voice from the other line. 

“Why are you saying it like that.” 

“You only call when you’re stressing over something, otherwise, you only text.” 

You hate how smart and observant your friend was sometimes. “I think I feel something for Jungkook.” 

“Isn’t that… I don’t know, good?” 

“I don’t know… it just hit me like a truck, okay? One minute I wanna punch that stupid grin out of his face, the next thing I know, his lips looked so shiny and he got me wondering if his piercings would feel cold against my lips.” 

“Okay, wow.” Yoongi said in amusement. “Care to elaborate?”

“What if I’m just… super horny or something? I mean I haven’t been with anyone for like god knows how long now, and I could just be desperate and Jungkook is good looking, extremely good looking may I add, and—“

“Okay, okay… Y/N, pause for a second.” Yoongi sighed. “So you think you might be just horny and you feel bad for it?”

“Of course I feel bad! I don’t wanna use Jungkook like that! Just because he has this stupid crush on me, doesn’t mean I can do whatever I want with him. I’m not that kind of person!” You exclaimed, the volume of your voice getting slightly higher. 

“Tell me, how do you feel after the dates? Did you enjoy it?”

“Well yeah, I had a great time actually. I didn’t expect Jungkook to be that caring, and he’s actually very good at initiating conversation…” You wondered what else you could point out. 

“During that time, did Jungkook mention or do anything sexual?” 

“N-no! Of course not! Yoongi, do you take me as the fuck-on-the-first-date kind of person???” You said, slightly offended.

“So you like him.” He stated casually. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You caught feelings. Just admit that Jungkook has officially win you over.”

“I… what…” 

“I knew it. I shouldn’t have let you go on those dates, now both of you are gonna be so gross when we hang out...” You heard your friend groaned. 

“I like him?” You asked, more to yourself rather than to your best friend. 

“Maybe you should call Jungkook instead and tell him.”

You widened your eyes in horror. “No way, that guy only has a crush on me, it’s more of a hyperfixation, like I’m his girl of the month or something. I’m sure it’s not like how you think it is.”

“You should ask him yourself instead of making assumptions, just saying. And you know…” Yoongi paused for a second before continuing. “I think that kid is actually a good person, despite how dumb and annoying he looks.” When he got no respond from you, he spoke again. “Alright, I’ll leave you with your thoughts, just make sure you’ll talk with him about this, okay? Take care, Y/N.” 

Yoongi hang up the call while you were still sitting down, expression blank, staring at the wall in front of you. 

—

Jungkook didn’t text you at all after the date. Not like you text each other regularly, but you lowkey expected him to after. You wanted to call him, or at least text him. You wanted to say how you feel but you were again, scared. You began to think if you were reading it wrong. He was popular, you wondered if he just acted like that to everyone, if you were catching feelings, while he just wanted to hang out and have a bit of fun. After all, he never really explicitly said that he had feelings for you, all you knew that he admitted his giant crush for you while being under the influence of alcohol. 

You never hear from Jungkook again until the next week. Hoseok invited you all to game night over his place. You wanted so badly to bail and fake being sick, but Yoongi picked you up, basically forcing you to come and face your problem like an actual adult.

With all these new and mixed emotions that you were still getting used to, the thought of seeing Jungkook in person sounded so overwhelming. He would probably just act like how he usually would, because of course, why wouldn’t he. After all you were the one who suddenly took a weird turn.

“Finally!” Hoseok shouted, as he opened the door for both of you and Yoongi. 

“Come on, switch with Namjoon, he sucks!” Jin spoke while his eyes still not leaving the TV screen and his fingers loud against the controller. 

They were playing Tekken 8 on Hoseok’s Playstation. You saw how Namjoon was basically getting his ass kicked, playing as a Panda character, while Jin quickly leading himself towards victory using the character that coincidentally has the same name as him. 

Jin Kazama wins. 

The oldest one screamed happily, while Namjoon’s protests and excuses could be heard very loudly. Everyone laughed at the two, so it was easy to spot the one who didn’t laugh as much, whose expression didn’t hold that much excitement, sitting on the edge of the sofa just playing with his phone instead. 

“Y/N, come on!” Jin patted the on the carpet to the now empty seat next to him, since Namjoon already excused himself to get more popsicles from the fridge. 

You followed and sat down next to Jin on the carpet, which was directly in front of Jungkook, who was slouching on the couch. 

Sitting down quietly, you took the controller and beginning to scroll through the rooster of characters. You chose the character named Lili, while Jin stayed with his current main. 

When you beat Jin and the sound of your friends cheering loudly was heard, you began to feel a little bit relaxed, at the very least you could forget for a moment about your situation with Jungkook. That was until, you heard Yoongi spoke. 

“Jungkook, your turn.” 

You immediately turned your head towards your best friend, eyeing him straight. How could he betray you like this was beyond you. 

“Nah, you play I’m not really in the mood.” He rejected politely.

Your eyes went back to the screen because you refused to see Jungkook’s expression. You pretended to busy yourself pressing the dpad button up and down on the character choices. 

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard Jungkook refusing a match.” Taehyung said while munching on his potato chips. 

“Yeah, that’s so unlike you, man!” Hobi joined. “Come on, we all know you’re good, but Y/N doesn’t know that yet!” He added. 

A small groan came out from Jungkook’s mouth before he stood up, and once again everyone cheered. Jin stood to switch seats with him. The man locked his eyes with you once, before sitting down and picking up the controller in his hand. He didn’t take too long picking a character. His choice landed on a boxer character. 

The match went quietly with only the sound of the video game from the speaker. Your friends behind you somehow went silent as well, and the atmosphere in the room became very tense. 

“Is it just me or it kinda feels like they’re actually fighting with each other…” Jin whispered to Hoseok who was sitting next to him. Hoseok only signaled with his hand shaking next to his neck to cut it out, while the rest only widened their eyes and try their best not to make any comment. 

You pretended like you did not hear any of it and kept mashing the controller buttons. The milliseconds of your attention being taken away from the game gave your opponent a leaway to break your combo and finally beating down your character. 

Steve Fox wins. 

“All right, Yoongi you switch with me, I’m gonna go get some air.” You excused yourself and headed to the balcony, closing the door behind you. 

Technically it was not a lie. It just got a bit stuffy with eight people inside an apartment living room. Especially when the guy you suddenly had feelings for was in the equation as well. 

You searched your back pocket for your pod and cursed silently when it was nowhere inside your jeans pocket. 

“Looking for your vape?” Jungkook entered the balcony uninvited, wiggling your small disposable vape pod in front of you. But when you were about to take it from him, he withdrew his hand. “I thought you’ve stopped.”

“I did. I only do it when I’m nervous. That’s why it’s a disposable.” You said weakly. 

“I noticed.” He replied in a monotone, now pocketing the pod inside his pants, refusing to give it to you. 

“You smoke, don’t act all high.” You retorted. 

“Well, have you seen me smoke these past few weeks?” 

“No, actually… yeah, now that I think of it, you didn’t even smoke once when we went out—“ You stopped when the memories of your date went through your head. “Jungkook, about that…” You bit your lips, nervously facing him. 

He also turned his body to your direction, looking at you directly. “I’m sorry.” He suddenly said. 

“Huh? For what?” 

“I feel like I’ve pressured you into something you don’t actually want. I’ve been thinking and re-thinking about it the past few days and it drives me crazy. I may have feelings for you, but that doesn’t give me the right to drag you along to do stuff with me just because you enjoyed spending time with me as a friend.”

“Wait, Jungkook, I don’t feel that way!”

“I know! That’s why I apologize—“

“No! I mean, I didn’t feel like you dragged me along or anything. I genuinely enjoyed our date and…” You looked away, taking a deep breath before continuing. “If I’m not reading it wrong, you’re saying you truly have feelings for me?” 

“Isn’t that obvious already?” 

“Well, I thought I was just your girl obsession of the week or something… You have celebrity crushes left and right, okay?! Hell, you even had a crush on Namjoon at one point!!!” 

“The Namjoon crush was a joke. Man just got some nice thighs and I was just admiring it.” He defended. 

You took another deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry as well… the emotions were all just come clashing to me at once and I just told you to go home instead of dealing with it.” 

“But, you rejected my kiss...” He said with a weak voice, you almost didn’t catch it. 

“Cause I haven’t figured out what I want yet. I thought I was just so touch deprived that your lips looked inviting that day.” You admitted while cursing yourself secretly inside your mind. That was lowkey embarrassing. 

“Try being me, your lips look inviting every single day!” He exclaimed, his mood now seemed to be improving. 

“Be serious.” You hit his sides. He muttered an “ow” but you doubted it even hurt the slightest bit. 

“So now you’ve figured out what you want?” His doe eyes looking at you directly. 

“I’m getting there… I guess.” You broke the eye contact, it was a bit too much for you and suddenly you felt a bit sweaty. “But I think I like you too.” 

“Say that again while looking at me.” 

“Hell no.” You suddenly covered your face with both of your hands. 

“Please?” He grabbed your wrists, softly trying to prey open your hands. “I just want to have the visual memory of it captured in my brain.”

When you finally loosened your grip, he took his chance and held both of your hands in his. He grabbed them for a few seconds, intertwining his fingers with yours, before letting them go. He traced his fingers along your right wrist where you wore the bracelet that he got you, the one he got matching with his, and then moved his hands up to cup your face. The entire time he did all that, you could actually feel the shakiness in his hands, and it melted your heart. 

“Can I?”

You nodded and he did not waste any second before dipping in and closing the gap between you. 

Oh boy you were right, his piercings did feel cold against your lips, but that was only for a quick second before everything felt warm and soft, and your mind became blurry. You were moving your lips against his carefully, afraid to accidentally hurt him by his piercing, but instead earned a small bite on your bottom lip from Jungkook. You gasped and pulled away, hitting his chest. Since when were you in his embrace? That you did not know. 

“We gotta head back now or they’ll get suspicious.”

He giggled and kissed your forehead. “They’re already suspicious, babe.” 

“Still, we gotta head back…”

“You guys done making out?! We’re hungry!!!” You heard Jimin shouted from inside the apartment. 

Jungkook and you looked at each other with widened eyes, before laughing in unison. He pecked you on the lips one more time before running back inside with you, holding hands. 

Thank you for reading! 🌸

[ellecdc]

OMGOMGOMGOGM MAY I PLEASE REQUEST THIS WITH LIKE READER AND LILY AND READER CAN BE PAIRED WITH WOLFSTAR MAYBE AND SO LILY AND READER R GOING CRAZY RIGHT BUT THEN ALSO JAMES AND SIRIUS R GOING BALLISTIC AND REMUS IS JS LIKE......yeah im not gna catch a break my entire life

you may request that! but also I threw in an extra character for you <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who tell jegulily they're pregnant {too} [662 words]

CW: pregnancy fic, background jegulily, chaos and friendship, Remus and Regulus only pretend they don't love each other and their partners

Remus released the breath he’d been holding and felt something unclench in his being when he finally heard happy squealing.

You and Sirius both knew Remus would have liked to wait just a little bit longer to start telling people you were pregnant, and for the most part, you were. But the only people the two of you couldn’t stand not sharing the news with was, of course, James (Sirius) & Lily (you). And, well, Remus didn’t mind (his own best friend, mind you) Regulus knowing too if that meant the two of you each got to tell your person. 

It was under the guise of a small housewarming party for James, Regulus, and Lily who moved into a new flat a mere five-to-seven minute walk from the lot of you. It was just the two partnerships in attendance; intimate, Lily had called it. 

It was nearing the holidays, so it wasn’t completely absurd for you to show up with a small gift bag in your hand, Sirius and Remus bringing a bottle of wine that only the three of you knew you wouldn’t be sharing.

You and Lily had stepped out onto the small balcony that overlooked the cobblestone streets below, and Remus fought every urge to bring you a blanket (or three); your little gift bag in hand. 

A few minutes later, there was squealing.

Remus made eye contact with Sirius across the table then who shared a knowing and slightly emotional smile with his boyfriend, but it was James who laughed and spoke up first.

“She must have shared the good news.”

Sirius and Remus chuckled before they really comprehended what James had just said. 

“Wait, what?” Sirius asked, and Regulus snorted at him, though he was sharing an equally knowing yet emotional smile with James. 

The sliding door to the balcony was flung open unceremoniously as the two of you came careening in without bothering to shut it behind you. The boys all stood from the hightop table, ready to partake in the celebration - James even opening up his arms in wait for a hug from either one of you - only for both of you to nearly slip in your socks on the hardwood flooring of their new flat as you veered the corner and took off down the hall. 

The men stared down the hall where the two of you had disappeared; no sooner did they hear a cabinet door shut did more squealing start up again. 

“What-” Regulus started, but Sirius cupped his hands over his mouth.

“No way!” 

You and Lily appeared in the kitchen then; flushed, eyes glassy and excited, and simply beaming at the group. 

“We’re pregnant.” The two of you chorused.

“Well…I hardly think you had anything to do with it, Y/N.” Regulus began skeptically, earning him a swat up the back of the head from Sirius.

“She means we’re pregnant too, numpty.”

“TOO!?” James shrieked, basically shoving Lily (his pregnant partner) out from where he’d yanked her under his arm to bodily throw himself at his best mate. “You’re pregnant too!?”

“Yes! Oh my God! We’re going to have tiny built in best friends!” Sirius cheered as he and James all but jumped up and down in each other’s arms.

Remus looked over to see you and Lily in a similarly aggressive embrace; both with tears down your faces as you laughed and squealed and congratulated each other with sentences that didn’t exactly sound like a comprehensible language to Remus but the two of you seemed to understand just fine.

He looked over at Regulus who was warily taking in the sight before him as well, seeming to come to the same conclusion as Remus.

“Oh dear god, what have we done?” He whispered out in one breath.

Remus took a steadying breath as he looked back to his two partners; both with their person’s, each of their person’a with them. “We might have made a terrible, terrible, lovely, wonderful, adorable mistake.”