#it’s this small shift in their expression in their demeanor in the set of their bottom jaw

[chosok-amo]

FOREVER, OURS : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

& sum. the night before, you and your boyfriends talking about having kids. for them, having a child in these moments wasn’t the right decision, especially with them too busy with missions and averything, and the next morning, you just happened to be pregnant.

warning. established relationship au, fluff, bit angst, baby-trap, very-very suggestive start.

[☆] MASTERLIST

the soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in a warm light as you relaxed in your shared bedroom with geto and gojo. the air was filled with a peaceful quiet, the kind that comes from being completely comfortable in each other’s presence.

geto was beside you, his attention absorbed in a book, the pages softly turning as he read. gojo was lying on the other side, his phone held loosely in his hand, occasionally tapping on the screen with a faint smirk.

you had your own book in hand, but you found yourself distracted. the comforting presence of your two boyfriends made it hard to focus. you glanced up from your page, watching geto's brow furrow slightly in concentration, then shifted your gaze to gojo, who was chuckling softly at something on his phone.

a contented sigh escaped your lips as you nestled deeper into the pillows, feeling the warmth and love that filled the room. there was no need for words; just being together like this was enough.

geto noticed your relaxed demeanor and couldn’t help but smile. he closed his book and gently placed it on the bedside table, shifting his attention towards you.

“you’re awfully quiet tonight,” he remarked, his voice soft and gentle. gojo, sensing the change in atmosphere, put aside his phone, and turned his gaze towards you. a mischievous look danced in his eyes, his smirk widening into a sly grin.

“are you enjoying the view or lost in thought?” gojo teased, his head tilted to the side as he studied your expression. geto chuckled, unable to hide the affectionate look in his eyes. “knowing you, you’re probably multitasking, thinking and ogling us at the same time.”

you glanced up at geto, offering him a small smile in response to his soft observation, then returned to your book without saying a word. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk; you were simply content, basking in the quiet comfort of their presence.

gojo, however, wasn’t going to let you off so easily. he leaned in closer, the corners of his mouth lifting as he tilted his head to meet your gaze. “not even a little kiss for us tonight?” he teased, his voice dripping with playfulness.

you scrunched your nose, pretending to ignore him, your eyes stubbornly fixed on the pages in front of you. but the faint twitch of a smile gave you away.

gojo chuckled, his smirk turning into a cocky grin as he saw through your little act. “oh, you’re playing hard to get tonight, are you?” he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

geto chuckled at your stubbornness. he knew you well, and he could tell that you were struggling to maintain your aloof act. he shifted closer, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back, giving it an affectionate squeeze. he, who had been watching with silent amusement, spoke up, “leave her be, satoru.”

but gojo pretended not to hear him, instead inching closer to you. “come on, just a tiny little kiss...” he practically begged, exaggerating his plea as he inched closer.

you barely had a moment to react before gojo snatched the book from your hands, his grin widening as he held it just out of your reach. “enough reading for tonight,” he declared smugly, setting the book aside on the nightstand. “it’s time you give us some attention.”

you shot him a mock glare, but couldn’t help the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. gojo's antics were relentless, and he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

“oh, so now you’re deciding my bedtime routine?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

gojo gave a dramatic sigh, as if the very idea of you resisting was unheard of. “exactly,” he quipped, his tone dripping with playful authority. “i mean, you can’t really blame us for wanting your undivided attention.”

geto, still chuckling at gojo's antics, slipped his arm around you, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back. “don’t mind him,” he murmured softly, his eyes warm. “but... i have to admit, he’s right.” his voice softened, and his gaze met yours, a gentle, coaxing look that made your resolve waver.

you rolled your eyes, feeling your heart flutter at their combined attention. “fine, fine,” you conceded with a dramatic sigh, pretending to be exasperated, even though you secretly loved every second of it. “but you two better make it worth my time.”

gojo and geto shared a grin, pleased at your pretend reluctance to give them attention.

“oh, don’t worry,” gojo said with a mock seriousness, “we’ll make sure you’re well entertained... or should we say, ‘well-distracted’?” he winked at you.

geto chuckled, his hand still tracing gentle circles on your back. “what kind of entertainment do you prefer, my dear?” he asked, his voice low and sultry. “something more... physical, perhaps?”

gojo, unable to wait any longer, leaned closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. his voice was a whisper, but the heat behind his words was clear. “i vote for physical.”

geto, sensing the tension, shifted his body closer to you, his chest now pressed against your back. his hand, which had been tracing gentle circles, now moved to your hip, his fingers gripping subtly. “i second that vote,” he murmured, his mouth now close to your neck.

a soft hum escaped your lips, the warmth of their proximity sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. you let out a quiet chuckle, savoring the anticipation in the air as their teasing words lingered. without another word, you slowly shifted, turning onto your back, so you could face them both. their gazes met yours—gojo’s eyes glinting with playful mischief and geto’s with a steady, affectionate warmth.

with a smirk, you leaned in just enough for your breath to brush against their skin, whispering, “i vote for the physical.”

gojo’s smirk grew impossibly wider, his eyes lighting up with a delighted spark as he chuckled softly. “finally, a unanimous vote.” his fingers found yours, intertwining as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion.

geto, not one to be outdone, leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of your jaw, his hand resting comfortably on your waist. “looks like we’re all in agreement,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a gentle, comforting hum that only made your heart beat faster.

you sighed, content and caught between them, feeling completely wrapped up in their warmth and attention.

gojo, ever the impatient one, wasted no time. he moved closer, his free hand slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing lazy lines against your stomach. the touch was light, a mere preview of things to come.

geto, the more patient of the two, continued to pepper soft kisses along your jaw, his fingers tracing light patterns on your hip. gojo, leaning even closer, his breath hot on your skin, whispered in your ear, “just say the word, and we’ll show you some real ‘physical entertainment.’”

geto chuckled, his lips against your jaw now moving down to your neck. he left a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses, his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him. “we aim to please, y’know,” he added, his voice a hot breath against your skin.

your hand slipped up to cup gojo’s face, your fingers brushing softly along his hair as you guided his gaze to meet yours. the playful glint in his eyes softened slightly, replaced by a flicker of something more intense as he held your gaze.

“kiss me,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, each word laced with anticipation.

gojo’s smirk widened, his eyes darkening with a mix of eagerness and possessiveness. without a moment's hesitation, he moved in, closing the small gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss.

his hand slid from your stomach to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his touch firm yet loving. gojo’s other hand cradled your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

as gojo poured his passion into the kiss, geto's hands wandered, sliding from your hip to your thighs, slowly moving up and under your shirt, his fingers lightly tracing against your skin. his head dipped, his mouth now on your neck, his kisses gradually becoming more heated as he began to leave a trail of soft hickies.

as gojo’s kisses trailed down to your jaw, then to the other side of your neck, his lips leaving a blazing path, a breathless moan slipped from your lips. your hands tangled in both their hair, grounding yourself in the heat of their touches. you felt the slow brush of geto’s fingers sliding up your thighs, his touch gentle yet purposeful, as his mouth continued to leave a trail of soft marks on your skin.

but as your gaze drifted up, your eyes landed on the ceiling—and there, among the glowing stars you’d carefully arranged, you noticed a few missing. a pout formed on your lips, and you sighed out, “aww… some of the stars are gone.”

as soon as the disappointed sigh left your lips, both gojo and geto let out exasperated groans against your neck, their frustration almost in perfect sync. you felt their warm breaths against your skin, both of them pausing their affections as they processed yet another one of your “star interruptions.”

gojo leaned back slightly, his forehead pressing to yours, his expression torn between amusement and disbelief. “really? again with the stars?” he asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the situation. “we’re in the middle of something here, you know…”

geto sighed, though there was a fond smile on his face as he tilted his head to look up at the ceiling with you. his hand stayed firm on your waist, grounding you as he shook his head softly. “one day, we’re going to get through a night without you being distracted by constellations,” he teased, though his tone was warm and affectionate.

they both knew this wasn’t the first—or even the fifth—time you’d interrupted a heated moment with a sudden focus on the stars. it had practically become a ritual at this point. and although it was frustrating, the way you’d get so wrapped up in something as simple as the glowing shapes overhead was something they couldn’t help but adore about you.

you scrunched up your nose, pouting slightly as you looked at both of them. “i just don’t like missing stars,” you mumbled, sounding adorably stubborn, your eyes flicking up to the ceiling before back to their amused faces.

gojo and geto exchanged a knowing look, sighing in unison before both of them turned onto their backs, settling beside you but still keeping close. geto’s hand remained gently on your waist, his thumb tracing idle circles, while gojo let out a playful scoff, his arm resting just behind your head.

“only you would care this much about glow-in-the-dark stickers,” gojo chuckled, shaking his head with a smirk, though his tone was filled with affection.

geto couldn’t help but laugh softly, his fingers still tracing the same idle circles on your waist. “you really have a thing for those stars, huh?” he teased, his fond smile mirroring gojo’s.

gojo chimed in, propping himself up on his elbow to hover over you slightly. “you’d think they were real, the way you’re so fixated on them.” his smirk widened as he teased, his tone still playful. despite their slight teasing, both gojo and geto made no move to resume the heated moment from before. instead, they settled comfortably on either side of you.

you tilted your head to look up at gojo, rolling your eyes with a playful scoff. “i’m not stupid, satoru,” you huffed, crossing your arms with an exaggerated pout. “of course i don’t think they’re real stars.”

gojo grinned wider, clearly enjoying your reaction, while geto chuckled softly beside you, his fingers still tracing those comforting circles on your waist. “could’ve fooled us,” gojo teased, arching a brow as he settled back down beside you, still grinning like he’d won something.

you nudged his shoulder lightly, shooting him a mock glare. “just because i like them doesn’t mean i think they’re real.” your voice softened as you added, “they just… make me happy, okay?”

the playful grins on gojo’s and geto’s faces softened slightly at your admission. they both knew how much those stars meant to you, even if they didn’t fully understand your fixation.

gojo’s hand found yours, intertwining your fingers together in a gentle squeeze. “ah, so it’s an emotional attachment,” he teased, his tone more teasing than mocking.

geto, still tracing his thumb over your waist, chuckled and leaned in to place a soft kiss on your shoulder. “adorable as it is, it sure kills the mood…”

you rolled your eyes at their teasing, glancing back up at the stars with a faint smile. “it’s not an emotional attachment,” you insisted, though the truth lingered just beneath your words. your gaze softened as you fell silent, memories from childhood drifting through your mind.

a quiet moment passed, the playful mood shifting as you thought back to simpler days. you remembered how, as a kid, you’d admired the glowing stars on the ceilings of friends’ bedrooms—their dads hanging them up like tiny constellations just for them. in a way, those stars had always felt like a small, unreachable piece of normal life, something untouched by the rules and expectations of growing up in a sorcerer family.

you hesitated, then finally let out a soft sigh. “when i was a kid, i used to see them in my friends’ rooms,” you murmured, your voice just above a whisper. “i always wanted some for myself, but… well, my family wasn’t really the type to hang glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.”

both gojo and geto listened in silence, their teasing remarks forgotten as they noticed the shift in your mood from playful to nostalgic.

gojo’s grip tightened around your hand, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles in a soft, reassuring gesture, while geto’s touch on your waist moved to gently rub small circles on your back, trying to offer a small comfort.

they exchanged a glance over your head, silently communicating, before focusing their attention back on you. gojo remained silent for a moment, waiting for you to continue, while geto let out a soft, encouraging hum.

gojo leaned in close, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek, his voice a gentle murmur against your skin. “first thing tomorrow, we’re getting as many as you want,” he promised, his usual playful tone softened with sincerity. “we’ll cover the whole ceiling—no, the whole house if you want.” he smiled, his eyes glinting with a determination to make up for what you’d missed.

he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his gaze filled with a mix of affection and resolve. “you’re gonna have the brightest ceiling in the world, and every time you look up, you’ll see all the stars you want, made just for you.”

you turned your head to the side, meeting gojo’s gaze with a soft smile. there was a warmth in his eyes that made your heart swell, and you could feel the sincerity in every word he had just spoken. without another thought, you leaned closer, resting your forehead against his.

“thank you, satoru,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. the words were simple, but they carried so much emotion, a quiet gratitude for his understanding and the gentle way he was willing to make up for what you’d missed.

gojo’s smile softened at your words, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of affection and tenderness. he knew how much those stars meant to you, and he was determined to make up for lost time. “don’t worry, my love,” he whispered, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “you’ll have a whole sky full of stars, just as you always wanted.”

geto, still tucked close beside you, listened in silence. his hand continued tracing soothing circles on your back, his touch gentle and comforting. he remained quiet, letting gojo take the lead.

you looked between them, a playful glint in your eyes as you couldn’t resist teasing. “you know,” you said with a smirk, “you two are going to be the best fathers.”

a moment of stunned silence followed your words. both gojo and geto were caught completely off guard, their jaws hanging open in surprise.

gojo recovered first, his stunned expression morphing into a mix of surprise and pride. a wide, almost giddy grin spread across his face. “fathers, huh?” he echoed, a hint of wonder in his voice.

geto chuckled, his hand on your back stilling for a moment before resuming its gentle circles. he shook his head, a softer smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you’re getting ahead of yourself,” he teased gently.

you chuckled softly, the warmth of the moment making you a little bolder. “do you two think we’d actually start a family someday?” you asked, the question slipping out without much thought as your gaze drifted back up to the ceiling.

you didn’t notice how your words seemed to hang in the air, nor did you catch the unreadable expressions that briefly crossed their faces. gojo’s grin faded slightly, replaced by something unreadable, a flicker of deep thought behind his usually carefree eyes. geto’s hand on your back stilled again, his gaze turning contemplative as he glanced at gojo, a silent understanding passing between them.

as you looked up at the ceiling, blissfully unaware of the deeper meanings your words had unintentionally stirred, gojo and geto were quietly reflecting on your casual question. the air seemed to shift subtly with a hint of weight.

gojo’s grin disappeared, replaced by a soft, pensive expression. he averted his gaze, his eyes wandering to the ceiling to avoid your gaze. geto, on the other hand, was silently looking at gojo, his own thoughts mirroring the same contemplative expression.

the room was silent for a moment, broken only by the sound of your slightly heavy breaths. both gojo and geto remained thoughtfully quiet, their gazes trained on the ceiling.

finally, gojo broke the silence, his voice barely above a murmur. “it’s… an interesting thought, isn’t it?” he began, his tone casual, but his eyes betraying a hint of seriousness. geto kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his fingers resuming their gentle circles on your back. he hummed softly, a non-committal noise of agreement.

you turned your head slightly, gaze drifting to gojo’s face. he wore that familiar, unreadable expression—one that masked so much, but over the years, you’d learned to pick up on the faint traces of emotion he sometimes couldn’t fully hide. his eyes, usually so full of mischief or confidence, held a hint of something softer now, a depth he rarely let show.

after a moment, you let out a quiet “yeah,” a gentle agreement that felt like it carried the weight of a promise, even if unspoken. returning your gaze to the ceiling, you traced the shapes of the stars you’d carefully arranged above, feeling the warmth of their presence around you. it was comforting to imagine a future like this—a family, a home filled with stars, laughter, and quiet moments like these.

gojo glanced down at you, his eyes softening as he noticed the shift in your expression. he knew you well enough to recognize that gleam in your eyes—the one that hinted at a distant hope and longing. the corners of his mouth twitched into a small, almost secretive smile.

geto, too, observed the silent exchange, his own heart swelling with a mixture of tenderness and melancholy. he knew the ache for such a future all too well. gojo’s voice broke the silence again, gently drawing your focus back to the conversation. “you’d actually want that, huh?”

your voice was barely above a whisper as you replied, “i don’t want it if you don’t.” you kept your gaze on the ceiling, the faint glow of the stars casting soft shadows across the room, but you didn’t need to look to feel the subtle shift in their emotions. it was as if they both tensed, caught between the vulnerability of the moment and their instinct to shield you from it.

you could feel gojo’s hand go still, his thumb frozen mid-stroke against your knuckles. his usual confidence seemed to waver, a quiet uncertainty flickering beneath his calm exterior. meanwhile, geto’s fingers on your back faltered, his touch gentle, yet hesitant—as if he, too, was processing emotions he wasn’t ready to voice.

you waited, the silence stretching between the three of you. it felt like they were trying to redirect, maybe even shift the conversation toward something safer. but you stayed quiet, not wanting to push, but hoping they’d know that whatever path they chose, you’d walk it together, even if it means there is will be no family.

the room fell into a silence thick with emotion. gojo and geto struggled to maintain their usual composure, their thoughts and feelings clearly shaken by your response.

gojo’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his gaze shifting from the ceiling to your face. he wanted to reply, to say something, but the words seemed to elude him. finally, geto broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “it’s not that we don’t want it, love,” he began, his fingers resuming their gentle circles on your back.

both gojo and geto were grappling with a mixture of emotions, their responses a delicate balance between honesty and the need to protect you. they both knew that bringing a child into this world, as powerful sorcerers, came with a whole new set of challenges and dangers, and the thought of putting a child through that was a heavy burden to bear.

“it’s just… complicated, “ gojo admitted, his voice low and heavy. “we would give anything to watch you become a mother, to see you care for and nurture a little bundle of joy, but...”

his voice trailed off, his gaze wandering to the ceiling once more. geto continued for him, his tone gentle yet tinged with sadness. “it’s not a simple world, love. we’re constantly facing threats and dangers most people can’t even imagine. bringing a child into that world... it would mean putting that child at risk.”

their words settled over you like a weight, pressing down on your chest. you didn’t respond immediately, simply letting their voices fade into the quiet of the room. you’d known this reality, had seen firsthand the constant battles and dangers they faced as sorcerers. but hearing it laid out like this—so openly, so vulnerably—made it all feel painfully real.

as you kept your gaze fixed on the glowing stars above, a dull ache bloomed in your heart, a quiet longing mixed with acceptance. part of you had always dreamed of that future, of a family, of a little one with their combined stubbornness, strength, and warmth. yet, you knew the truth: the life you shared with them was far from ordinary, far from safe.

the silence stretched, each of you lost in your own thoughts, until finally, you whispered, barely audible, “i know...”

your words hung in the air, soft and wistful. you didn’t need them to make any promises or change their minds—you just wanted them to know that the thought of a future, even a fragile one, was something you held onto, even if it was just a dream.

the silence that followed your soft, wistful admission was heavy with unspoken emotions. gojo and geto both stared upwards, their eyes fixed on the ceiling, as if searching for the right words to say.

after a moment, gojo’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb tracing circles on your knuckles in a silent, comforting gesture. geto, still tracing those same circles on your back, let out a deep sigh, his heart heavy with a mixture of love and sorrow.

and then, in a hushed voice, geto spoke up, his words careful. “it’s not that we’re ruling it out entirely,” he continued, his voice low. “but it’s not a decision we should make lightly, knowing the risks involved.”

gojo nodded, his gaze shifting to you, his eyes slightly widened as he searched for the right words to comfort you. “it’s not like we don’t want it, love,” he repeated, his tone sincere. “we just… we want to give you everything you deserve, including a safe and normal life.”

there was another pause as the weight of their words sunk in. both gojo and geto were silently contemplating this complex, uncharted territory, struggling to find a way to express their emotions and fears.

then, gojo finally spoke up, his tone uncharacteristically vulnerable. “you know we both love you more than anything,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “we just want to make sure you’re happy, and that any child we bring into this world is safe. that’s our main priority.”

“we’re not saying no forever,” geto added, his voice softer now. “just… not right now.” he paused for a moment, his hand pausing its soothing motion on your back as he chose his words carefully.

“we’d want nothing more than to see you as a mother, but the life we lead… it’s not an easy one. and bringing a child into this world would be a responsibility we’d take seriously.”

the room fell into a heavy silence as your heart felt the weight of their words, the ache in your chest growing stronger with each passing moment. you didn’t say anything, your eyes still trained on the ceiling, though your thoughts swirled in a mix of disappointment, longing, and acceptance. it was hard to put into words the sudden heartbreak that came with realizing a dream might never be realized, at least not the way you had imagined.

geto noticed the subtle shift in your expression, the way your body seemed to fold in on itself, a sign that you were retreating into your own thoughts, maybe even into yourself. his heart tugged at the sight of you in such a quiet, vulnerable state. he could see the storm behind your eyes, the words you weren’t saying but felt deep inside.

sighing softly, he leaned in, his voice tender as he whispered, “come here.”

he slid his arm under your head, gently pulling you closer until your body melted into his. you didn’t resist, turning to lay on your side and burying your face in his chest. the warmth of his embrace surrounded you like a quiet sanctuary, the steady rise and fall of his chest offering a moment of comfort.

your arm instinctively wrapped around his waist, the action grounding you, as you sought solace in his familiar presence.

as you buried your face in geto’s chest, gojo let out a soft sigh, watching the exchange silently. his expression was a mixture of understanding and sadness. he knew your dreams, your hopes and longings, and seeing you so silently devastated was more painful than he could’ve imagined.

slowly, he moved closer, his body molding against your back as he wrapped his arms around you both, enveloping you in a protective embrace. his breaths were slow and steady, his chin resting softly on your shoulder.

the three of you lay there in a tangle of limbs and emotions, each of you lost in your own thoughts. the room remained quiet, the only sound being the soft inhale and exhale of breaths.

after several moments, gojo broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “i know it’s not what you wanted to hear, love.” geto’s arm tightened around you, his hand continuing to gently brush against your back, offering silent reassurance. he remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, leaving it to gojo to continue.

gojo sighed, his breath caressing your skin as he spoke. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice laced with guilt and regret. “i wish it could be different. we all do. but…”

he broke off, clearly struggling to find the right words, his hands clenching slightly around the fabric of your clothes. “we just want the best for you,” he murmured after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “and as much as we want to give you anything you desire, we can’t risk putting you in harm’s way.”

the room remained still, the only sound the soft rhythm of your breathing, as you lay between gojo and geto. the weight of the conversation still lingered in the air, but the tension seemed to ease as time passed. their presence, their warmth, was a comforting reminder that, in this moment, you didn’t have to carry the burden alone.

gojo had shifted slightly, his hand now resting on your back, fingers gently stroking the skin beneath your shirt. geto’s grip was steady around your waist, his presence solid and unwavering. both of them didn’t say anything further, allowing you to sink into the quiet comfort of their touch, not rushing you to speak or to feel anything you weren’t ready to.

the air was thick with unsaid words, but in that stillness, something comforting bloomed. the kind of quiet that spoke volumes in its own way. your eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion from the emotional weight of the conversation finally taking its toll. your breath deepened, and slowly, the world around you started to fade.

the last thing you felt was the warmth of their bodies close to you, the steady heartbeat of geto beneath your ear, and the gentle pulse of gojo’s hand moving slowly over your skin. with a quiet sigh, you let yourself surrender to the moment, allowing sleep to pull you under, leaving the worries and complexities of the world behind for just a while.

as you slowly drifted off to sleep, both gojo and geto silently watched, their eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and worry. they remained still, not moving an inch, not wanting to disturb your finally relaxed expression.

the room was now filled with a deep sense of quiet, the silence broken only by the soft sound of your breaths and the steady beats of their hearts. they stayed like that, their arms wrapped around you, not willing to let go just yet. gojo, ever the more restless of the two, reached for the blanket and carefully pulled it over you.

geto’s eyes were still fixed on the ceiling, his mind swirling with thoughts. “i hate this,” he muttered softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip.

gojo let out a low hum of agreement. “yeah, me too,” he replied, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. his hand continued to move gently over your skin, his touch a soothing comfort.

“it’’ll take some time,” gojo continued. “for her to accept it, i mean.” he paused, swallowing a lump in his throat.

gojo hummed softly, a small, smile tugging at his lips as he tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer into the warmth of his embrace. his hand found geto’s, gently intertwining their fingers, the quiet comfort of their touch a silent promise to stick together through the complexities that lay ahead.

“just a little while,” gojo whispered, his voice soft, almost tender as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. his lips lingered there for a moment, a quiet vow, a reassurance to both you and himself that, no matter the uncertainties, they would face them together. the night fell around them in peaceful silence, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten in the safety of their arms.

geto, noticing the subtle shift in gojo’s demeanor, smiled to himself, his fingers gently intertwining with gojo’s in return. he watched silently as gojo leaned down, pressing a kiss on your forehead before settling back down.

“yeah,” geto murmured, his own voice carrying a hint of determination. “just a little while. she’ll come around. she always does.” he paused, his eyes flickering to gojo’s face briefly. there was a silent understanding between them, a silent reassurance that they would weather whatever storm came their way, together.

the following morning, as the three of you prepared for work, gojo and geto were in the bedroom, focused on getting into their uniforms and gathering their things. however, despite the usual morning routine, you were nowhere to be seen.

gojo pulled the black compression shirt over his head, glancing over at geto as he adjusted his own uniform. his brow furrowed in mild confusion, the quiet of the room making it a bit strange that you hadn’t appeared yet.

“hey, where is she?” gojo asked, his voice a little more casual than his growing concern. “i haven’t seen her in, what—twenty minutes?"”he added, pulling at the collar of his shirt to straighten it, a faint edge of worry creeping into his tone. his eyes scanned the room, as if expecting you to pop out from somewhere.

geto, busy fixing his own uniform, glanced up at gojo’s question, a hint of concern mirrored in his expression. “now that you mention it, she’s taking longer than usual.” he said, his eyes darting around the room as well, almost as if he expected you to magically appear from behind a lamp or under a sofa.

his hand paused in the process of buttoning his shirt as that familiar flutter of worry settled in his chest. “maybe she’s in the bathroom?” he suggested, his voice betraying just a hint of unease.

gojo nodded in agreement, though his brow remained furrowed. “yeah, probably,” he replied, his movements a little more restless as he paced around the room. the silence that followed made the air feel heavy, the usual lightness of the situation now replaced by a palpable sense of anxiety.

he turned towards the bathroom, his hand reaching out for the door handle. “i’ll just check on her,” he said, his voice taking on a more firm tone as he prepared to push the door.

on the other side of the bathroom door, you stood there, gripping the edge of the towel wrapped tightly around your body, the soft fabric bunched under your clenched fingers. you looked down at the small, plastic test in your hand, eyes fixed on the faint, unmistakable two lines. each heartbeat felt louder than the last, pounding against your chest with a mix of dread and overwhelming anxiety.

it wasn’t happiness filling you—not the joy or excitement you’d thought might come if you ever held a test like this. instead, a wave of panic rose, cold and sharp, twisting tightly in your stomach. your hand, gripping the towel, started to tremble, and you couldn’t stop it.

strands of your wet hair clung to your bare shoulders, the droplets cooling against your skin but doing little to steady you. your forehead felt damp, from the lingering steam of the shower and from the sudden heat of panic rising within you.

your mind began to replay the conversation from the night before, fragments of their words coming back in echoes—soft, serious voices admitting fears and reasons. you remembered gojo’s tender but worried tone as he said, “we want you happy, but bringing a child into our world… it’s not the right time.” and geto’s gentle yet sad agreement, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he whispered, “not right now.”

and here you were, facing the reality of it, holding proof of something neither of them were ready for. your gaze drifted over the faded lines on the test, your chest tightening painfully as you tried to breathe through the waves of panic. it felt like the ground beneath you had shifted, leaving you unsteady, your hand shaking even as you tried to steady yourself.

the air in the bathroom felt stifling, the walls closing in on you. the sharp edge of panic pressed down, constricting your chest as you stared down at the two lines. your damp hair clung to your skin, feeling cold and damp against your shoulders, but it did nothing to cool the heat of fear coursing through you.

you felt like you were drowning in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. the memory of last night’s conversation echoed through your mind, the gentle yet firm words of geto and gojo replaying in your head.

a sudden knock on the door made you jump, nearly dropping the test pack. gojo’s voice filtered through, soft but laced with concern. “hey… everything alright in there, love?” he asked, his tone casual but curious as he meet with geto’s gaze.

swallowing hard, you forced your voice to sound steady, even though it felt like every breath was caught in your throat. “y-yeah, i’m alright,” you managed to say, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you. your gaze flickered to the door, heart pounding faster with the fear of what lay ahead. you could picture gojo’s face, his lighthearted smile shifting into something more serious, and the thought was enough to make your stomach twist.

you looked down at the test in your hand, the two faint lines glaring back at you like an undeniable truth. images flashed through your mind—imagining their reactions, the shock, the inevitable disappointment, and maybe even anger. you thought of the conversation from last night, their careful words about timing and the dangers of their world, and your chest tightened further. how could you tell them now?

another knock, firmer this time, pulled you back, followed by gojo’s slightly more insistent voice. “love are you hurt? you’ve been in there forever…”

his tone was still light, but the concern was undeniable, and you could imagine his brows drawn together, maybe even a worried frown. you knew you couldn’t stay hidden in here much longer, couldn’t keep the truth hidden from them… but you had no idea how to say it, or what would come after.

gojo’s voice carried through the door again, sounding a little more urgent now. “come on, say something,” he coaxed, his tone still light, but the concern was clear. “you’re starting to scaring us…”

he paused for a moment, listening closely for any hint that you were okay, while geto stood behind him, his usually unreadable expression betraying a hint of worry. the silence that followed was deafening, and gojo’s hand hovered over the door handle, clearly contemplating action.

his patience wearing thin, gojo eventually knocked again, firmly this time, his hand clenching the handle. “please, just say something,” he said, his voice a little more stern, the worry now edged with frustration.

gojo’s mind was racing, a thousand different scenarios playing out at once. each passing moment, the silence from the other side of the door only heightened his anxiety, the knot in his stomach growing tighter with each second.

geto spoke up then, his voice joining gojo's. “love, please,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “open the door, or we’re coming in.”

the air was thick with tension as they waited, giving you a moment to respond, to open the door, to do anything to alleviate their growing concern. but when no response came, gojo’s hand grasped the door handle, ready to push it open.

the door creaked open slowly, and you stood there, framed in the doorway with a fragile, almost vulnerable expression that made both gojo and geto go completely silent. their gazes softened instantly, and they could see the unshed tears shimmering in your eyes, the way your hand trembled as you held onto the door, and the nervous, uncertain look on your face.

gojo’s usual lighthearted demeanor disappeared as he took a small step closer, his brows knitting with concern. “hey… what’s going on?” he asked softly, his voice gentle as though afraid to startle you.

geto’s eyes flicked to your hand, clenched tightly behind your back, noticing the way you seemed to be trying to hold something out of sight. he shared a quick look with gojo before he took a steadying breath, his voice low and calming. “we’re here,” he murmured. “whatever it is, you can tell us.”

you took a shaky breath, gathering the last bit of courage you had, feeling the weight of the words stuck in your throat. “i… i need to tell you something,” you whispered, barely able to meet their eyes. you glanced down, biting your lip, feeling the anxiety and panic rise in waves. every word felt like a mountain to climb.

their expressions turned serious, sensing the gravity of the moment. gojo reached out, taking your trembling hand in his and squeezing it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he waited with quiet patience. geto stepped closer too, his hand resting on your shoulder, grounding you in his steady presence.

“take your time,” gojo encouraged softly, his voice a tender murmur. “whatever it is, we’re not going anywhere.”

you stood there in silence, eyes downcast, feeling a tear slip past your resolve despite your best efforts to hold it back. the weight of the decision, the heartache, and the fear mingled together in a painful tangle, twisting in your chest. you knew what had to be done, knew that bringing this up meant making a choice you never wanted to face alone—but the thought of their reaction left you frozen.

gojo’s fingers tightened around yours as he noticed the tear slipping down your cheek, his eyes widening with worry. he tilted his head to try and catch your gaze, his own expression softening with concern. “hey… please, talk to us,” he murmured gently, his voice a mix of desperation and warmth.

geto’s hand on your shoulder gently guided you closer, his thumb rubbing small circles in an attempt to soothe you. he could feel the tension, the weight of something unsaid hanging in the air, and he waited patiently, his own heart aching at the sight of you struggling. gently, he guided you to the bed, sitting you at the edge.

gojo and geto sat on either side of you, their gazes fixed on your face, watching the flurry of emotions flicker across your features. gojo's hand remained clasped around yours, his touch a silent reminder that they were there for you, whatever you had to tell them. geto's hand continued stroking your shoulder, a soft and steady rhythm that spoke of comfort and quiet reassurance.

the silence felt heavy, almost suffocating, as they waited for whatever you were ready to say. the air was thick with anticipation, both of them bracing themselves for whatever revelation might be coming.

gojo’s eyes narrowed as he noticed you hide your other hand behind your back, a subtle but unmistakable movement that sent a wave of unease through him. something was wrong, he could feel it. without saying a word, his hand reached out, gentle but insistent, as he tried to pull your hidden hand from behind your back.

you stiffened, your fingers curling tighter around whatever it was, as if trying to shield it from him. gojo's gaze softened, the concern growing in his chest. “my love,” he said, his voice a tender murmur, yet the underlying firmness was unmistakable. it wasn’t a demand, but a soft warning, a gentle plea for you to let him in.

you hesitated, your grip firming even more in a silent protest, but after a moment, you relented. your hand trembled slightly as he slowly eased it from behind your back, and as his fingers wrapped around yours, the testpack in your hand was finally revealed.

gojo’s heart skipped a beat as he saw it. he didn’t need to say anything. the sight of it—the faint two lines—spoke volumes. his gaze flickered from the testpack to your face, your tear-streaked expression twisting with emotion. his frown deepened, not in anger, but in confusion, concern, and something that could only be described as a heavy ache in his chest.

you whispered barely above a breath, the words tumbling out with a rawness that pierced through the silence. “i’m… i’m pregnant,” you said, your voice breaking, filled with sorrow. “i’m so sorry...”

gojo’s gaze remained fixed on the test pack for a few seconds, his mind struggling to process the words that just came out of your mouth. he could feel his heart pounding faster in his chest, a mix of shock and disbelief coursing through his veins. he glanced up at you, his eyes taking in your distraught expression, the tear-streaked cheeks, and the way you were clenching your jaw.

he opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no words came out. geto, meanwhile, remained silent on your other side, equally stunned and trying to process the news.

the moment the words left your lips, a heavy silence settled between the three of you. gojo and geto exchanged a quick glance, a silent conversation passing between them. their eyes were filled with unspoken questions, concern, and something deeper—fear, perhaps. they both understood the weight of the decision you were implying, but neither one of them was prepared for it.

but before either of them could speak, you whispered again, your voice barely audible. “you don’t have to worry,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush, as if saying them would make everything easier. “i’ve decided... i’ll terminate the baby.”

the air around you grew thick with tension, each word sinking into the space like a stone dropping into still water, sending ripples through the atmosphere. your hands trembled, and even though you tried to mask it, the pain in your eyes was undeniable.

gojo’s heart dropped, and geto’s expression darkened, the weight of your decision settling heavily on both of them. they couldn’t even begin to process the gravity of it, and yet, they knew how deeply conflicted you must’ve been to come to that conclusion.

the moment geto heard the words “terminate the baby,” his heart seemed to stop. his face twisted with a mixture of shock and disbelief, the gravity of your statement weighing heavily on him. without hesitation, he quickly responded, his voice thick with emotion, “no.”

there was a brief pause before he spoke again, this time his tone softer, more pleading. the corner of his lips twitched, as if trying to fight back the ache in his chest. “please, don’t,” he whispered, his voice strained but full of desperation. “it’s our baby,” he continued, his hand gently running through your wet hair, his fingers trembling slightly as they found their way to your scalp, offering a touch of comfort even as he struggled to control the flood of emotions within him.

his words, so gentle yet laced with an undeniable pain, were a stark contrast to the harshness of his initial reaction. he wanted to be strong for you, for the both of you, but in that moment, he was vulnerable, his love for you and the child you carried too strong to ignore. his other hand rested on your shoulder, trying to ground you, to offer reassurance that this decision didn’t have to be made alone, that they would support you no matter what you chose.

“satoru and i... we’re here,” geto murmured, his voice barely audible as he gazed at you with a mixture of love and concern. he was desperate for you to understand that there was no need to face this alone, that they were both willing to take on this responsibility with you, together.

your head snapped up at geto's words, your eyes wide with confusion, as if you couldn't understand what he was saying. the tremble in your hands grew more apparent as you blinked, your mind racing to catch up with the reality of the situation. “but... i thought you didn't want the baby,” you choked out, your voice breaking with a mixture of confusion and hurt.

the words seemed to tumble out of you, your thoughts jumbled, but there was a clarity in the pain in your chest. you hadn't imagined this moment going like this. you'd prepared yourself for the worst—the disappointment, the anger, the rejection. but instead, here they were, offering you support and pleading with you to reconsider.

your chest tightened, and the weight of your emotions pressed down on you like a vice. your eyes were still red from the tears you had fought so hard to keep back, but now, they welled up again, threatening to spill over. your voice cracked as you tried to make sense of it all, your heart torn between the fear of what could come and the love they were offering.

“i thought you... didn’t want this,” you repeated softly, almost to yourself, your eyes searching their faces for some sign that this wasn’t all a misunderstanding. “you said... you weren’t ready.”

geto’s heart ached as he heard your voice break, the confusion and hurt apparent in your words. he could see how much this decision was weighing on you, the weight of the situation clear on your face. he shared a quick glance with gojo, both their expressions mirrored with pain and uncertainty. he knew you hadn’t expected this reaction, hadn’t prepared yourself for their support.

“we...” his voice cracked at first, his own emotions threatening to break through, but he steadied himself and continued. “we never said we didn’t want this.”

gojo, who had been quietly listening for the most part, found his voice in that moment, his words a gentle but firm reassurance. “baby, we were surprised,” he said, drawing your attention to him. his expression softened as he met your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and love.

gojo reached out, his fingers gently taking some of your damp hair and tucking it behind your ear, his touch a tender caress. “but we would never in a million years refuse the gift of a child that we love and want with all our hearts.”

you felt a wave of relief and confusion wash over you as gojo spoke, his voice steady and warm. it was as if the air had shifted, and your heart began to slowly unclench, but the anxiety still clung to you. his words, though reassuring, had made you realize just how panicked you had become, all the while assuming the worst.

you bowed your head, guilt flooding through you as you tried to gather your scattered thoughts. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, the words slipping out shakily. your voice was small, fragile, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile sense of hope you were starting to feel.

“i... i just got so confused,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “i was just so scared... especially after what you said last night. i didn’t know what to think.”

your hand tightened around the edge of the blanket, the tension in your body slowly easing as you tried to make sense of it all. you couldn't meet their eyes fully yet, still too embarrassed by your own reaction. you had misunderstood them, let fear dictate your actions, and now you felt as if you had been too quick to assume the worst of them.

“i was just... so scared,” you repeated quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words carried the weight of your emotions.

as you spoke, expressing your fear and confusion, gojo and geto’s expressions remained soft, their eyes filled with a mix of understanding and tenderness.

gojo gently placed his hand on top of yours, his fingers interlacing with yours in a comforting grip. “love, please listen,” he murmured, his voice soft yet firm. he paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before he continued.

“i’m sorry we made you feel that way,” he began. “i didn’t mean to give you the impression that we don’t want this baby.”

geto, on your other side, leaned in closer, his face close to you, his eyes fixed on yours. he reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle but reassuring. “we were just surprised, that’s all,” he muttered softly. “we hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.”

gojo gently pulled you into his lap, settling you comfortably against him with your legs dangling lightly in the air. his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close, his warmth seeping into your body. his fingers traced lightly over the towel wrapped around you, his touch soft but full of meaning as he let his hand rest on your stomach.

he met your gaze with a steady, reassuring smile, his eyes full of unwavering support. “hey,” he murmured softly, his voice calm yet filled with conviction. “me and suguru, we’re not going anywhere. we’re always going to be here for you, through everything. you don’t have to face this alone.”

he smiled again, his thumb running gently over your stomach, a quiet promise in his gesture. “for a while, you’ll come around, love. i know it’s a lot right now, but you’ll see. everything’s going to be okay. you’re going to be the luckiest girl, and our child? they’ll be the luckiest too. because we’re going to keep you safe, comfortable, and happy. here, with us. only us.”

his words, full of love and certainty, wrapped around your heart like a warm blanket, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe it.

geto, watching the interaction between you and gojo, couldn’t help but feel a mix of relief and tenderness at the sight. gojo’s words had clearly made an impact on you, and he could see how your rigid body was starting to loosen up slightly, the tension in your muscles slowly ebbing away.

he leaned closer towards you, gently taking your hand in his own. he gave it a reassuring squeeze, his fingers tracing tiny circles on your skin. “he’s right, you know,” he mumbled gently. “we’ll always be here for you. and for our baby.”

your heart swelled with emotion as you looked from geto to gojo, taking in the sincerity in both of their faces. the fear and uncertainty that had been gripping you so tightly finally began to loosen, replaced by a comforting warmth that their words and presence brought.

you nodded softly, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips as you whispered, “thank you… thank you both, so much.” your voice was barely audible, but the gratitude in it was clear.

with a gentle sigh, you leaned your head against gojo’s chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your cheek. his hand remained at your waist, his hold protective yet tender, while geto’s fingers continued to trace gentle circles on your hand, grounding you.

gojo felt your weight lean into him and his heart melted. he shifted a bit, wrapping one arm more fully around you, pulling you even closer. his chin rested on your head, his other hand still on your stomach, fingers tracing soft patterns into your skin, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your breathing.

geto’s eyes followed the movement, a tender smile on his lips. he watched you both for a few moments before leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss onto your temple. “we love you,” he murmured against your skin. “always.”

gojo’s tone was soft yet unwavering as he brushed a hand along your cheek, meeting your eyes with gentle determination. “you’re not going to work today, love,” he murmured, his voice leaving no room for protest. “we’ll talk to yaga, and we’ll be with you the entire day. just rest.”

before you could say anything, gojo leaned down, his arms sliding beneath you as he lifted you effortlessly, his grip both steady and comforting. he held you close to his chest, the warmth of his embrace easing some of the lingering tension in your body. as he carried you over to the bed, you could feel his heartbeat—a constant, soothing rhythm that seemed to match your own.

he set you down gently, his fingers brushing over your skin as he slipped the towel from your shoulders, leaving you bare. his touch was careful, almost reverent, as he tucked you in with the soft blankets, smoothing them over your form to ensure you were wrapped in warmth. his gaze softened as he made sure the blanket cocooned you, his thumb gently tracing along your shoulder, a silent promise of his care.

“just rest now, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with the back of his hand. “you’ve been through enough for today… don’t want to stress our baby mama,” his words were a quiet vow, full of love and unwavering support.

geto watched the scene in silence, his heart full of tenderness as gojo took care of you with such gentle yet assertive actions. he could see the exhaustion in your eyes and knew that you needed this moment of rest. the way gojo was handling the situation showed a side of him that many rarely got to see—a caring and nurturing side that was normally buried under his carefree demeanor.

he moved across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand resting lightly on your leg over the blankets. “don’t stress about anything,” he echoed gojo’s sentiment, his voice a soft, soothing murmur.

you felt the weight of their love and care surrounding you, and despite the emotional rollercoaster you had just been on, a sense of peace washed over you. your body felt lighter as you allowed yourself to relax into the bed, the warmth of the blankets and their presence making everything else fade away.

with a soft, content smile playing on your lips, you looked at both of them, your voice a soft whisper, “i love you,” you said, your eyes filled with an innocent, trusting affection, all naive and clueless. your heart swelled with the deep love you felt for them, and the reassurance they gave you in that moment meant everything.

gojo, sitting close by, smiled down at you warmly, his eyes soft with admiration as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “we love you, too,” he murmured, his voice full of affection.

geto, his hand still resting on your leg, leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “always, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, a quiet promise that you’d never be alone.

with those words, your eyelids fluttered closed, the exhaustion from the past hours finally catching up to you. your breathing slowed, and you felt yourself drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing you were safe, loved, and cared for by the two people who would always be there, no matter what came next.

as you finally let yourself relax and drift off in a peaceful sleep, gojo and geto both let out a soft sigh, the relief in the room palpable. they both settled in, each on either side of you, close enough so that you were completely surrounded by their presence.

for a while, there was just silence, both of them quietly watching you sleep, their own thoughts swirling in their heads as they took in the sight of you in this vulnerable state. after a moment, gojo broke the silence. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen her look that scared,” he murmured.

as you finally slipped into a peaceful sleep, the quiet settled over the room, but the atmosphere around gojo and geto seemed to pulse with an unspoken energy. they both let out a collective sigh of relief, the weight of the situation lightening just a little as they watched over you. there was something deeply comforting in knowing you were finally able to rest, and yet, something else simmered beneath the surface—an undercurrent of tension and darker thoughts that only they fully understood.

geto, now standing at the edge of the bed, observed your sleeping form with a level of intensity that sent a shiver down the room’s spine. His usual composed demeanor softened only slightly in the quiet, but there was something unsettling about the way his gaze lingered on you. his fingers subtly curled into the fabric of his pockets, his posture relaxed yet controlled. his eyes, usually calculating and sharp, softened at the sight of you so vulnerable, so at peace, yet underneath that tenderness, a quiet, twisted amusement began to build.

he hummed softly under his breath, as if trying to savor the moment, the silence between the three of them a thick layer of unspoken emotions. he leaned in a little closer, his breath barely audible, his gaze unwavering. As his lips curled into a smile, it wasn’t one of kindness or affection. no, this smile was darker, more sinister—a slow, knowing curve that spread across his face, one that seemed to stretch wider with each passing second. it was as if the moment had awakened a part of him that had been lying dormant, a part that thrived on control, on manipulation.

the smile deepened, almost to the point of being maniacal, as his eyes never left your face. the vulnerability you displayed only made it worse for him, feeding something twisted and possessive within. his eyes darkened as he muttered under his breath, his voice low and controlled, yet thick with an undercurrent of satisfaction. “good,” he whispered, a single word that carried the weight of far more than just the moment. it was a word wrapped in meaning that only gojo could fully comprehend.

his smile grew more pronounced as he repeated the sentiment, his voice soft but deliberate. “she’ll come around. eventually.” the words, so simple, carried the venom of a promise, one that was not comforting but instead laden with a subtle threat.

gojo, though silent for a moment, couldn’t stop himself from responding to geto’s words. his lips tightened, his jaw setting slightly as he tried to suppress the subtle twitch at the corner of his own lips. the smile that pulled at the edge of geto’s lips was infectious, and the darker undertones in the air did not escape him. he understood that geto was speaking in a language they both shared—a language of control and manipulation, where the line between care and cruelty blurred into something much more dangerous.

for just a moment, the two of them stood in a charged silence, each aware of the shifting dynamic between them. the tension between gojo and geto was palpable, an undercurrent that you would remain unaware of for now. but in this brief moment, a shared understanding passed between them���an understanding that their influence over you was just beginning, and that they would both ensure that you came around to their way of thinking, whether you realized it or not.

the unspoken connection between them, the quiet shift in their relationship, was something you would not yet recognize, ever. but it was there, simmering beneath the surface, a storm just waiting to break.

gojo’s lips pressed together in a hard line as he fixed geto with a glare, the tension in his gaze like a quiet warning. for a moment, his usually lighthearted expression had vanished, replaced by something almost dangerous. but even as he tried to maintain his irritation, the corner of his mouth betrayed him, twitching with the beginnings of a smile that he couldn’t quite suppress.

“cut it out,” he muttered, his voice low and dripping with barely concealed annoyance. “she’ll know what we do if you don’t stop acting like a maniac and a fucking psycho.”

geto merely chuckled, his laughter a soft and unnervingly calm sound that held no remorse. his smile didn’t waver—in fact, it only grew wider, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint as he gave gojo an innocent look that didn’t fool him for a second. “what’s the matter?” he asked, voice smooth and teasing, as if daring gojo to go on.

despite himself, gojo felt his own irritation start to melt into something else entirely. the smirk that had threatened to break through finally won out, his lips curving into a smile he couldn’t hold back. his gaze softened as he looked down at you, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the underlying edge in his voice.

“she’ll know we’re the ones who got her pregnant on purpose,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to geto with a knowing glint, “if you doesn’t stop acting like that.”

there was something darkly playful in his words, a mixture of affection and mischief as he spoke. it was a subtle acknowledgment of the deeper intentions that lay beneath their actions, a quiet understanding between him and geto that the two of them were deeply entwined in a plan that only they fully understood. as he looked at you, resting peacefully and oblivious to the weight of the conversation, he felt a surge of possessive affection, a fierce desire to keep you close, safe, and entirely theirs.

geto’s smile only broadened at gojo’s words, his eyes gleaming with a feral flicker that belied the affection and playfulness in his own tone. he chuckled softly, as if enjoying the twisted game they were playing.

“what, and spoil the fun?” he said, his voice lilting with a wicked sort of amusement. his gaze returned to you, his expression one of smug satisfaction as he added, “she’ll figure it out sooner or later. and by then, it’ll be too late for her to run, won’t it?”

gojo rolled his eyes at geto’s words, his irritation still simmering but now mixed with a hint of a smirk. he knew that geto was enjoying this way too much, getting a twisted sort of pleasure out of manipulating the situation to his advantage.

“don’t act like you’re not enjoying this too much,” he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of amusement despite himself. “you’ve never been good at hiding your sadistic and obsessive streak, suguru.”

“and you aren’t any better,” geto retorted, his voice still dripping with that same unsettling mix of amusement and dark intent. there was a challenge in his words, a subtle dare for gojo to push back. “remember, you’re the one who suggested this in the first place.”

gojo chuckled softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he gazed down at your sleeping face, lingering on the bare curve of your shoulder and the delicate chain around your neck—a necklace adorned with the initials G.S., another quiet mark of their claim. “she doesn’t need to know,” he murmured, almost to himself, fingers lightly tracing the line of the necklace as though sealing the sentiment.

no, you didn’t need to know how they had exchanged smirks and carefully worded reassurances the night before, expertly hiding the way their words danced with a double meaning that only they understood. how the notion of not wanting a child was a game, a pretense, just so they could savor the moment you’d discover otherwise, unprepared and utterly theirs.

you didn’t need to know how each moment of intimacy was orchestrated with care, how they ensured you took every part of them without fail, their silent rituals cementing you deeper into their lives.

you didn’t need to know the subtle ways they interfered, leaving your pills out in the sun or “forgetting” to replace certain things—all with that same twisted devotion. or how they took measures to ensure no barriers stood between you and the life they had planned in secret, an existence where you were wholly theirs.

and you would never need to know. that beneath the surface of their love, a darker obsession lay, a primal need to bind you to them irrevocably, to ensure you’d stay in the house they had built for you, forever enveloped in the illusion of warmth and devotion they wove around you.

geto watched as gojo’s gaze trailed down to your necklace, a possessive glint in his eyes as he touched the initials. he knew the meaning behind that look, the quiet satisfaction that came with staking such a visible claim on you. it was one of their many quiet acts of possession, a twisted way of ensuring you were truly theirs.

he knew the lengths they had gone to for this moment, the careful planning and manipulation that had led to your ignorant bliss, and it only stoked the fire of his twisted desire even further.

his smile widened as he felt the weight of the knowledge that they were shaping your life and future without your knowledge or consent, the dark thrill of it all sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. he relished in the way they had subtly manipulated the situation, making sure you had no choice but to follow their will, and all while keeping you blinded to their true intentions.

“i wonder,” geto murmured, “how long will it take you to realize you’re a trapped bird in our grasp?” he murmured, eyes locked to your beautiful face.

his eyes gleamed with a twisted sort of satisfaction as he watched your peaceful, oblivious sleeping form. you had no idea what was in store for you, no clue how deep their control over you had already become. and by the time you finally figured it all out, it would be far too late to escape.

gojo chuckled at geto’s words, his eyes still fixed on the necklace. “you forget that she loves us,” he said, his tone carrying the confidence of someone who knew he had the upper hand. “and love can be a stronger chain than any force we can use.”

but beneath his flippant tone, there was another layer, a darker current of possessiveness that ran deep. he knew your love for him and geto went beyond what was healthy, a twisted form of affection that they had carefully nurtured. “we’ve loved her for the past ten years, we do what we do because of love.”

geto let out a dismissive snort, not entirely convinced. he knew all too well how easily love could be twisted and manipulated, used as a leash to keep someone under control.

“love isn’t always a good thing, you know that,” he muttered, his smile taking on a darker edge as he mused, “sometimes it’s just a pretty word for obsession.”

he met gojo’s gaze, his eyes cold and calculating. “and you and i both know our love for her is more possessive than it is healthy,” geto added, his voice almost gleeful at the admission.

“it’s healthy, we love her.”

geto’s smile widened at gojo’s words, his gaze calculating as he leaned back slightly, his arms folding over his chest in a manner that spoke of dominance and control. “you’re fooling yourself, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low, almost like a taunt. “love isn’t always as pure as we tell ourselves it is. sometimes, it’s just a way to justify what we want.”

he let the words linger in the air, his eyes locking with gojo’s, daring him to deny the truth. geto didn’t believe in the comforting illusions of love, not anymore. he knew the truth about the darkness that could lie beneath it, how easily love could be turned into something possessive, something suffocating.

“satoru, don’t act like we don’t both know. we’re not here because of some innocent love,” geto said, his voice a mix of amusement and malice. “we’re here because we can't stand the thought of losing her.”

gojo remained silent for a moment, his lips thinning, the air between them charged with an unspoken understanding. but then, his gaze softened, just a fraction. “we love her,” he said firmly, shaking his head as if trying to shake off geto's words. “it’s not unhealthy. we give her everything she wants, everything she needs. we don’t force her to do anything, we’ve never done anything to make her unhappy. we want to make her life perfect.”

he paused, his eyes looking toward you, still peacefully asleep between them. “it’s just... a little more love. getting her pregnant—it’s just a way to make sure she’s always ours, that we’re never apart.”

there was a certain heaviness in gojo’s words, a quiet vulnerability beneath his usual bravado. he knew, deep down, that they were both terrified of the possibility of losing you—terrified of the thought that you could slip away from them. their love, twisted as it may be, was rooted in that fear.

“it’s the right thing,” gojo continued, his voice tinged with something raw and desperate. “we just... we can’t lose her.”

geto regarded gojo silently, studying his face intently. there was a small part of him that felt a pang of sympathy at the vulnerability in gojo's words, at the fear that he saw lurking beneath his facade. but he pushed it down, refusing to let it soften him.

“you’re delusional,” he said bluntly, shaking his head. “you can call it love all you like, but the truth is, it's possession. you want to own her completely, to make her dependent on us. and you’ll stop at nothing to achieve that.”

gojo listened to geto’s words, his expression unreadable for a moment, but a soft hum escaped his lips as he leaned closer, his gaze softening as it landed on you. without a word, he placed a tender kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

as he pulled back, he whispered, almost reverently, “she is ours,” the words a quiet affirmation, a promise that seemed to echo through the air between them.

his fingers trailed gently across your cheek, running his knuckles over your skin, the touch delicate yet filled with a possessive warmth. there was a quiet intensity in his gaze as he watched you, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as though to reassure himself that you were still there, still his.

gojo'’ demeanor softened again, and for a brief moment, the raw, vulnerable side of him surfaced—just a fleeting glimpse of the man who feared losing you. but it was quickly masked by the quiet confidence, the undeniable possessiveness that had always been there. he wasn’t delusional, at least not in his mind. he was simply ensuring that you would never be taken from him, from both of them.

his eyes flicked to geto, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “you can call it whatever you want,” he murmured, “but this is love, suguru. and we're never letting her go.”

gojo’s hand rubs soft, gentle circles on your belly over the soft blanket, his eyes fixated on the spot where your baby is growing. a possessive smile plays at the corner of his lips, his voice soft when he speaks. “ours to love, to protect—to keep.”

geto hummed in satisfaction, his gaze lingering on you, taking in the peacefulness of your sleep. there was something about seeing you like this that made his possessiveness flare even more, but it was a contented, almost affectionate kind of obsession.

he stepped closer to gojo, his hand reaching out to rest gently against his boyfriend’s back, a subtle reassurance. “let her rest,” he said, his voice calm, though there was a quiet excitement in his tone. “she’s been through a lot.”

his fingers then slid up to gojo’s undercut, his touch soft, almost tender, as he whispered with a smile, “maybe we should start looking for a room in the house… turn it into a nursery.”

there was a spark of genuine excitement in geto’s eyes, despite knowing that it was still a long time before the baby would arrive. but that didn’t stop him from feeling an intense, almost overwhelming sense of anticipation. this was their first child, after all—their child—and he couldn’t wait for the moment when everything would finally be real.

gojo’s lips curled into a proud grin at the mention of a nursery. he knew it was too early to start planning and preparing, but he couldn’t help but jump on the idea instantly.

“yeah,” he agreed, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and adoration. “we should start working on decorating the room, picking out furniture, maybe start buying some cute little baby clothes…”

he paused, imagining the room filled with adorable cribs and soft toys, before adding with a smirk, “and maybe we should start thinking of baby names.”

geto chuckled softly at gojo’s words, a slight shake of his head as he listened to his boyfriend’s excited ramblings. the image of gojo, the usually carefree and chaotic force of nature, getting so wrapped up in something as sweet and innocent as baby names, made a rare warmth flicker in his chest.

“you’re already thinking of baby names, huh?” geto murmured with a small, knowing smile. “you really can’t wait, can you?”

gojo making sure you were comfortable and warm, adjusting the blanket around you gently before standing up. then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around geto’s waist, pulling him in close. the two of them silently left the bedroom together, moving into the hallway as the sound of their footsteps echoed softly in the quiet house.

as they walked down the hallway, the feeling of possessiveness and excitement still swirling in the air between them, geto broke the silence. his voice was low but filled with certainty, the dark gleam in his eyes never quite fading as he met gojo’s gaze.

“we are going to give her and our baby the world,” he said, his voice almost reverent, though tinged with a dangerous kind of possessiveness. “aren’t we?” his question was more of a quiet affirmation, a shared understanding between them that no one would take either of you from them—not now, not ever.

gojo gave an unapologetic nod at geto’s words, his arms tightening around his waist. there was no denying how excited he was—he couldn’t help but get carried away sometimes.

he leaned in close to geto, resting his head on the man’s shoulder as they walked down the hallway. “of course,” he murmured, his voice low and intense. “whatever they want, we’ll give them. whatever they need, we’ll provide. they’ll never want for anything.”

then, an amused smirk crossed his face as he added, “we’ll spoil them completely, won’t we?”

geto chuckled a little at gojo’s question, a small hum of agreement escaping his lips. the idea of spoiling the baby, giving them everything they could possibly want, was an appealing one, to say the least.

“you’re already plotting to give them the most lavish birthday parties, aren’t you?” he teased, his tone light though there was a hint of fond amusement in his eyes as he glanced sidelong at his boyfriend.

“we’ll give them everything they could ask for,” gojo said, his voice a low murmur. “the world isn’t enough.”

geto smiled at gojo’s response, his hand reaching up to brush a few strands of hair back from his boyfriend’s forehead. he knew gojo all too well, and the man’s tendency to go overboard when it came to you and the baby was something he was all too familiar with.

he let out a soft, amused snort, shaking his head as he commented, “lavish is an understatement, satoru. you’re probably already planning a theme park for their first birthday.”

gojo chuckled at the thought, imagining the look on the baby’s face as they explored a whole theme park built solely for them. the idea was ridiculous and over-the-top—but that was gojo all over.

“well,” he mused, his voice taking on a playful tone, “they are ours, and our baby deserves the best. so yeah, a theme park might be a good start.”

he shot a sly grin at geto, adding, “though i was actually thinking of something more grand, like maybe a petting zoo. or a small circus.” the thoughts, the ideas swimming freely in his mind, filled with each possible and the things he and geto can and would do for you and their child.

gojo groans, hiding his face on geto’s shoulder, “they haven’t been born yet and i already love them so much.”

upon hearing gojo’s ridiculous ideas for grand birthday parties for a literal baby, geto let out an amused chuckle, his expression a mix of fond exasperation. “a petting zoo,” he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. “you're unbelievable. and i thought i was supposed to be the unhinged one in this relationship.”

despite the teasing comments, though, there was a hint of affection in his voice, a begrudging fondness. he knew gojo’s ridiculous tendencies, after all, and this was well within the limits of his boyfriend’s chaotic character.

gojo hummed happily at geto’s words, his face still hidden in the crook of his boyfriend’s shoulder. his heart felt so full in moments like this, where he could just imagine the future and the life they were slowly creating for themselves.

“i just love our babies so much,” he said referring to you and the future child, his voice a little bit muffled, but the tenderness was still clear in his tone.

geto rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite his best efforts. gojo’s sappy side was a side that he only showed to those he trusted, and geto couldn’t deny that his boyfriend’s affectionate nature was endearing, in his own way.

“you’re such a sap,” he muttered, his voice fond. “you realize there’s still, like, what, 8 months? before the baby’s even born, right? don’t get ahead of yourself now.”

gojo lifted his head a little so he could glance up at geto, an exaggerated pout on his face. “i can’t help it,” he protested, his voice whining a little. “i’m excited, okay? i can’t help it if i’m already thinking about what we’ll dress them up as for halloween and what toys they’ll like and how we’ll decorate the nursery and so on and so on...”

[peppymintdreams]

i fear i have to ask for a fic of pickle dressing up for isaac :3

So purty

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

Pickle was feeling their oats

Pickle stood in front of the mirror, nerves buzzing under their skin as they adjusted the collar of the outfit they had picked out for the evening. It was a special night, one they had planned for a while. For once, they weren’t doing this because they had to be anywhere fancy, or because of some formal event—this was just for Isaac.

They knew Isaac wasn’t the type to care much about appearances. He had always told them they looked beautiful no matter what they wore, whether they were dressed up or lounging in sweats. But tonight felt different. They wanted to surprise him, to do something a little extra just to see that flicker of admiration in his eyes, the subtle shift in his expression that always told them he was paying attention.

Pickle gave themselves one final look in the mirror, smoothing out the fabric of their clothes before stepping out of the bedroom. The anticipation built in their chest as they made their way down the hall, heels clicking softly against the floor.

Isaac was in the living room, casually flipping through a book when he looked up, his eyes catching sight of them. For a split second, his usual calm demeanor faltered, his gaze sweeping over them with a flicker of surprise. He closed the book with a soft thud, setting it aside as he rose to his feet.

“Pickle…” he said, his voice low, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You look... incredible.”

Pickle felt their cheeks warm under his gaze, but they couldn’t help the grin that spread across their face. “Do you like it?” they asked, turning slightly to give him a better view. “I figured it was time to put in a little extra effort.”

Isaac took a step closer, his eyes never leaving them. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing the fabric of their outfit, his touch both gentle and possessive in a way that sent a shiver down their spine. “You didn’t have to,” he murmured, his voice filled with that deep, serious tone that always made Pickle’s heart race. “But I’m glad you did.”

Pickle bit their lip, feeling the heat of his gaze as it trailed over them again. “I wanted to do something special for you,” they admitted softly. “I know you don’t care about all this, but...”

“I care,” Isaac interrupted, his hand sliding to rest on their waist. His touch was firm but tender, grounding them as his gaze softened. “I care because it’s you.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, Isaac’s hand resting on their waist, the other coming up to cup their cheek. His thumb brushed lightly across their skin, and Pickle felt their breath catch at the intensity of his focus.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said quietly, his lips curving into that small, knowing smile he always gave them when he knew he had made them blush.

Pickle chuckled, leaning into his touch. “I was kind of hoping you’d think so.”

Isaac’s smile widened, his fingers tightening slightly on their waist as he pulled them just a little closer. “Trust me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that sent a pleasant thrill through them. “You have my full attention.”

Pickle laughed softly, feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction knowing they had caught Isaac off guard, even if just for a moment. “Good,” they whispered, stepping closer until their bodies were nearly pressed together. “That was the whole point.”

Isaac leaned down, his forehead resting against theirs, his eyes dark and steady as they locked onto Pickle’s. “Mission accomplished,” he whispered, before closing the distance between them with a soft, lingering kiss.

[teefconnoisseur]

when actors have that little flex in their jaw, that little spasm of muscle when they grit their teeth real hard, i *bangs hands on desk*

[agirlnamedelia]

A future with you || Dad!Bakugou x Reader

synopsis: just dad bakugou soft as ever.

The smell of freshly baked cookies fills the kitchen as you pull the tray from the oven, setting it on the counter to cool. You hear the front door open and a familiar voice call out, gruff but warm.

“Oi, I’m home!” Bakugou’s voice echoes through the house, his tone softened slightly by the familiarity of routine.

“In the kitchen!” you shout back, smiling as you hear the sound of tiny footsteps racing through the hall. Bakugou’s son, a bundle of energy just like his dad, comes barreling in, a wide grin on his face.

“Cookies!” he exclaims, reaching for the cooling tray with eager hands.

You laugh, gently guiding him away. “Careful, they’re still hot, sweetie. Let them cool down first.”

Bakugou appears in the doorway, his presence instantly commanding attention. He’s still in his hero gear, though he’s already shed the gauntlets and boots. His blond hair is tousled from the wind, and there’s a tired but satisfied look on his face.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice softer now, his eyes warming as he takes in the sight of you and his son.

“Hey, yourself,” you reply, leaning against the counter. “Long day?”

He nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before shifting to his son, who’s still eyeing the cookies with a determined focus. “Yeah, but it’s better now.”

You smile at his words, feeling a familiar flutter in your chest. Despite his rough exterior and blunt demeanor, Bakugou has a way of making you feel special with just a few words. It’s in the little things, like the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, or the way he always makes sure to come home as soon as he can.

“Did you save any villains for the rest of us, Dad?” his son asks, his voice full of admiration.

Bakugou chuckles, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately. “Nah, wiped the floor with ‘em all. You know how it is.”

His son beams up at him, clearly proud. “You’re the best, Dad!”

Bakugou’s eyes soften as he looks down at his son, and he crouches to his level, a rare, gentle smile gracing his features. “Thanks, kid. But I’m not the best at everything. You and your mom are the real heroes around here.”

You feel your cheeks warm at his words, and Bakugou catches your eye, his expression turning more serious. There’s a depth in his gaze, a silent communication that only you understand. It’s his way of saying he appreciates you, even if he doesn’t always know how to say it out loud.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up before dinner,” Bakugou says, straightening up and scooping his son into his arms with ease.

As he passes by, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering for just a second longer than usual. “And maybe after, you and I can have a little time to ourselves, yeah?”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “I’d like that.”

He gives you a small, knowing smirk before heading down the hall, his son giggling in his arms. You watch them go, your heart swelling with love and contentment. Being with Bakugou isn’t always easy, but moments like this remind you of why you fell in love with him in the first place.

As you turn back to the cookies, you hear Bakugou’s voice drifting down the hall, playful and teasing. “Better save me some of those cookies, or you’re gonna regret it!”

You laugh, calling back, “No promises, Katsuki!”

And as you start plating the cookies, you can’t help but think about how much you’ve come to love this life—this family. It’s not always perfect, but it’s yours, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

-`♡´- Tip Jar || Youtube ||  M.List -`♡´-

[pucksandpower]

For the Best

Logan Sargeant x Wolff!Reader

Summary: Logan thinks that losing his Williams seat marks the beginning of the end … little does he know that it’s really just the start of the rest of his life

Logan steps into the cool, air-conditioned room, his race suit clinging to his skin after a grueling drive. The contrast between the bustling paddock and the quiet meeting room is jarring, and he can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

His team principal sits at the head of the table, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a somber expression. Beside him, to Logan’s surprise, is the imposing figure of Mercedes’ team principal.

“Logan, thanks for coming,” James begins, his voice careful and measured. “Please, have a seat.”

Logan slides into a chair, his heart rate picking up. “What’s this about?” He asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

James and Toto exchange a glance before James clears his throat. “Logan, you’ve been a valuable part of our team, and we’ve appreciated your dedication and hard work.”

The use of past tense doesn’t escape Logan’s notice. His stomach drops.

“But?” Logan prompts, bracing himself.

James sighs. “But we’ve decided to go in a different direction for next season. We’ll be announcing tomorrow that we’re signing Carlos Sainz.”

The words hit Logan like a physical blow. He knew his seat wasn’t secure, but hearing it confirmed ... it’s devastating.

“I-I see,” Logan manages, his voice barely above a whisper.

Toto leans forward, his piercing gaze fixed on Logan. “This is where I come in, Logan. We’ve been watching your progress closely, and while Williams may not have a race seat for you next year, we see potential in you.”

Logan’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Mercedes and Williams would like to offer you a position as a reserve driver for next season,” Toto explains. “It would give you the opportunity to stay involved in F1, continue your development, and potentially step in if needed.”

Logan’s mind races. It’s not a race seat, but it’s something. A lifeline in a sport that can be ruthlessly unforgiving.

“I ... I don’t know what to say,” Logan admits, his voice shaky.

James leans in, his expression softening. “Logan, I know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear. But this could be a great opportunity for you. You’d be working with one of the top teams in the sport.”

Logan nods slowly, trying to process everything. “Can I ask ... why? Why make this decision now?”

James shifts uncomfortably. “It’s a combination of factors. Carlos became available, and with his experience ...”

“You think he can bring more to the team,” Logan finishes, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

“Logan,” Toto interjects, his tone firm but not unkind. “This sport is brutal, we all know that. But it’s also about timing and opportunities. This reserve role could set you up for future success.”

Logan takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “And if I say no? If I want to pursue other options?”

James and Toto exchange another glance. “That’s your prerogative,” James says carefully. “But I would strongly advise you to consider this offer. It’s not often a driver gets this kind of opportunity with a team like Mercedes.”

Logan nods, his mind whirling. “How long do I have to decide?”

“We’d need an answer by the end of the week,” Toto replies. “We understand this is a big decision, but we also need to move forward with our plans.”

Logan stands up, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the small room. “I ... I need some time to think about this. Is that okay?”

James nods, standing as well. “Of course, Logan. Take the time you need. But please, keep this conversation confidential until the announcement on Monday.”

Logan nods numbly, turning towards the door. As he reaches for the handle, Toto’s voice stops him.

“Logan,” the Mercedes boss says, his tone softer than before. “I know this feels like a setback. But sometimes, a step back can lead to two steps forward. Don’t lose faith in yourself.”

Logan meets Toto’s gaze, seeing a mix of sympathy and determination in the older man’s eyes. He manages a weak smile. “Thank you, Mr. Wolff. I’ll ... I’ll be in touch.”

As Logan steps out of the room, the hectic sounds of the paddock wash over him. And not for the first time in his F1 career, he feels completely lost in the familiar chaos.

***

Logan sits alone at a table in the Mercedes cafeteria, pushing his food around his plate. It’s his first day as a reserve driver, and the reality of his situation is sinking in. The familiar faces he’d grown accustomed to at Williams are replaced by a sea of strangers, all wearing the unmistakable Mercedes black and silver.

He takes a halfhearted bite of his chicken, lost in thought. The clink of a tray beside him startles him out of his reverie.

“Mind if I join you?” A cheerful voice asks.

Logan looks up to see a young woman with a bright smile sliding into the seat across from him. Her eyes sparkle with warmth and curiosity.

“Uh, sure,” Logan manages, caught off guard by the unexpected company.

You beam at him, extending a hand. “I’m Y/N. You must be Logan, right? The new reserve driver?”

Logan nods, shaking your hand. “That’s me. Nice to meet you.”

“So, how’s your first day going?” You ask, digging into your own lunch with enthusiasm.

Logan shrugs, trying to muster up some positivity. “It’s ... different. Still trying to find my bearings, I guess.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It must be a big change from Williams. But hey, everyone here is pretty friendly once you get to know them. Give it time.”

Logan finds himself relaxing a bit in the face of your easy-going demeanor. “Thanks. I appreciate that. So, uh, what do you do here?”

You laugh, a melodious sound that draws a few glances from nearby tables. “Oh, a bit of everything, really. I like to keep busy. But tell me more about you! How are you finding Brackley compared to Grove?”

Logan blinks, surprised by your genuine interest. “It’s ... bigger, for sure. More advanced facilities. It’s a bit overwhelming, to be honest.”

You lean in, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Want to know a secret? It can be overwhelming for all of us sometimes. But that’s what makes it exciting, right?”

A small smile tugs at Logan’s lips. “I guess you’re right. It’s just ... I keep thinking about what could have been, you know? If I’d kept my race seat ...”

Your expression softens. “I get it. It’s tough to feel like you’re taking a step back. But sometimes, that step back gives you the perspective you need to leap forward.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “You sound like To- I mean, Mr. Wolff.”

You grin mischievously. “Well, great minds think alike, I suppose. But seriously, Logan, try to see this as an opportunity. You’re working with one of the best teams in F1. There’s so much you can learn here.”

Logan nods slowly, your enthusiasm starting to rub off on him. “You’re right. I should be grateful for this chance. It’s just hard not to feel a bit ... lost, I guess.”

“That’s totally normal,” you assure him. “But you know what? I have a feeling you’re going to fit in just fine here. You’ve got that spark, Logan. I can see it.”

Logan feels a warmth spreading through his chest at your words. “Thanks, Y/N. That ... that means a lot.”

You wave off his gratitude with a smile. “Hey, newbies have to stick together, right?”

Logan tilts his head, confused. “Newbies? How long have you been here?”

You laugh again, and Logan finds himself thinking it’s a sound he could get used to. “Oh, I’ve been around forever. But I still feel new sometimes. This place is always evolving, always pushing forward. It keeps you on your toes.”

Logan nods, understanding dawning. “I can see that. It’s a bit intimidating, actually. Everyone here seems so ... focused. Driven.”

“That’s the Mercedes way,” you agree. “But don’t let it psych you out. We’re all human here. Well, except for the cars, of course.”

Logan chuckles, surprising himself. It’s the first time he’s laughed since ... well, since that meeting with James and Toto.

“So,” you continue, leaning forward with interest, “tell me about your journey. How did you end up in F1?”

Logan hesitates for a moment, then finds himself opening up. He tells you about his early days in karting, the move to Europe, the struggles and triumphs in the junior categories. You listen intently, asking thoughtful questions and offering encouragement.

“... and then Williams gave me my shot,” Logan concludes. “It was a dream come true, you know? But now ...”

You reach across the table, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “Hey, your F1 journey isn’t over. It’s just taking a different path. And who knows? This could lead to even better things.”

Logan feels a flutter in his chest at your touch, quickly pushing the feeling aside. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you say with conviction. “You’ve got talent. Anyone can see that. And now you’ve got the backing of Mercedes. That’s a powerful combination.”

Logan finds himself smiling, your optimism infectious. “Thanks, Y/N. I ... I really needed to hear that today.”

You wink at him. “Anytime. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Friends?” Logan echoes, surprised but pleased.

“Of course!” you exclaim. “Unless you’d rather keep eating lunch alone?”

Logan shakes his head quickly. “No, no. Friends sounds good. Great, actually.”

You beam at him. “Excellent. Now, let me give you the inside scoop on the best coffee spots around here. Trust me, you’re going to need it.”

As you launch into a detailed description of the various cafes and their specialties, Logan finds himself relaxing fully for the first time since arriving at Mercedes. Your easy banter and genuine interest make him feel welcome, like he might actually belong here after all.

“... and whatever you do, avoid the vending machine on the third floor,” you’re saying. “It ate my money twice last week, and-”

“Y/N,” a familiar voice interrupts.

Logan looks up to see Toto Wolff standing beside their table, his imposing figure casting a shadow. Logan immediately straightens, suddenly very aware of his posture.

“Oh, hi Vati!” You say brightly.

Logan’s brain short-circuits. Vati? His eyes dart between you and Toto, noticing for the first time the similarities in your features.

Toto smiles warmly at you, then drops a kiss on top of your head. “I see you’re making our new reserve driver feel welcome.”

You grin up at your father. “Of course! Someone has to show him the ropes around here.”

Toto nods approvingly, then turns to Logan. “I hope my daughter isn’t talking your ear off. She can be quite enthusiastic.”

Logan, still reeling from the revelation, manages to stammer out, “N-no, sir. She’s been very helpful.”

“Good,” Toto says. “Y/N, don’t forget about the meeting at three. Logan, keep up the good work. I look forward to seeing what you can do in the simulator next week.”

With that, Toto strides away, leaving Logan staring at you in shock.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You okay there, Logan? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Logan tries to speak, fails, then tries again. “You ... you’re Toto Wolff’s daughter?”

You nod, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Yep. Did I forget to mention that?”

Logan feels his face heating up. “I-I had no idea. I thought you were in PR or something.”

You burst out laughing. “PR? Oh, that’s a good one. No, I’m more of a behind-the-scenes type. Strategy, data analysis, that sort of thing.”

Logan’s mind is reeling. He’s been sitting here, pouring his heart out to his boss’s daughter. The boss’s daughter who is smart, funny, and undeniably attractive. The boss’s daughter who he might have been developing a tiny crush on.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says, mortified. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “Logan, relax. I’m still the same person I was five minutes ago. The only thing that’s changed is that now you know I have an overprotective dad who happens to run the team.”

Logan swallows hard. “Right. No pressure or anything.”

You lean in, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Hey, look on the bright side. Now you’ve got an inside track to the big boss. Just don’t ask me to put in a good word for you. I have a strict no nepotism policy.”

Despite his embarrassment, Logan finds himself chuckling. “Noted. I’ll just have to impress him on my own merits, then.”

“That’s the spirit,” you say, raising your water bottle in a mock toast. “To new beginnings and unexpected friendships.”

Logan clinks his own bottle against yours, a smile spreading across his face despite his lingering shock. “To new beginnings,” he echoes.

As you launch back into conversation, Logan can’t help but think that his time at Mercedes might be more interesting than he’d anticipated. And maybe, just maybe, this step back might lead to something amazing after all.

***

Logan leans against the table, his eyes fixed on the monitors displaying George Russell’s lap times. The Australian sun beats down on the Albert Park circuit, but inside the Mercedes garage, the atmosphere is tense with concentration as pre-season testing commences.

“Looking good, George,” Marcus Dudley, his race engineer, says into the radio. “Let’s push for one more flying lap before we bring you in.”

Logan nods to himself, impressed by George’s consistency. He’s about to turn to grab a water bottle when a collective gasp from the crew draws his attention back to the screens.

George’s car is spinning, kicking up dust and gravel as it careens towards the barrier. The sickening crunch of carbon fiber meeting concrete echoes through the speakers.

“George, are you okay?” Marcus calls urgently. “George, do you copy?”

Silence.

Logan’s heart races as he watches the still car, willing George to respond. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you rushing past, your face pale with worry.

“Carmen,” you call out, spotting George’s girlfriend near the back of the garage. You reach her just as her knees seem to give out, catching her before she falls.

Logan wants to help, but he knows his place. He turns back to the screens, straining to hear any news.

Marcus tries again, his voice tight with concern. “George, if you can hear me, give us any sign. Tap the radio, move your hand, anything.”

Still nothing.

The garage erupts into controlled chaos. Toto strides in, his face a mask of worry. “What happened?” He demands.

“Lost the rear in turn 11,” one of the engineers reports. “Looks like a suspension failure, but we won’t know for sure until we get the car back.”

Toto nods grimly. “And George?”

Marcus shakes his head. “No response on the radio.”

Logan watches as the medical car speeds towards the crash site. He catches snippets of radio chatter from the marshals.

“Driver non-responsive ... possible head trauma ... prepare for extraction ...”

The words send a chill down Logan’s spine. This is the dark side of the sport they all love, the ever-present danger that lurks behind every high-speed corner.

You appear at Logan’s side, your face etched with worry. “Any news?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan shakes his head. “Nothing yet. They’re working on getting him out now.”

You nod, biting your lower lip. “Carmen ... she’s not doing well. I’ve got Aleix with her now.”

Logan glances over to where Carmen sits, hunched over, the arm of George’s performance coach around her shoulders. The sight makes his chest tighten.

“This is my fault,” you murmur.

Logan turns to you, surprised. “What? How could this possibly be your fault?”

You run a hand through your hair, frustration evident in every movement. “I was the one who pushed for the new suspension design. If I had just stuck with the old one ...”

“Hey,” Logan says firmly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You can’t think like that. We all know the risks. George knows the risks. This isn’t on you.”

You give him a weak smile, gratitude flashing in your eyes. “Thanks, Logan. I just ... I can’t help but feel responsible.”

Before Logan can respond, a flurry of activity on the screens catches their attention. The medical team has successfully extracted George from the car.

“He’s out,” Marcus announces, his relief palpable. “Still unconscious, but he’s breathing on his own.”

A collective sigh of relief ripples through the garage. Carmen lets out a sob, burying her face in Aleix’s shoulder.

Toto approaches you and Logan, his face grim but composed. “They’re airlifting him to the hospital for full scans. Y/N, I need you to go with Carmen. Logan, I want you suited up and ready. If George can’t drive ...”

The implication hangs in the air. Logan nods, his throat suddenly dry. “Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”

As Toto moves away to handle the press, you turn to Logan. “Are you okay?” You ask, concern evident in your voice.

Logan takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I think so. It’s just ... this isn’t how I wanted my chance to come.”

You squeeze his arm gently. “I know. But George would want you to do your best. That’s all any of us can do right now.”

Logan nods, trying to steel himself for what might come next. “You’re right. Go take care of Carmen. I’ll ... I’ll be here if you need me.”

You give him a grateful smile before hurrying off to Carmen’s side. Logan watches as you gently lead her out of the garage, whispering words of comfort.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. Logan finds himself going through the motions of preparation, all while keeping an ear out for any news about George. The garage is unnaturally quiet, the usual banter and joking replaced by tense whispers and worried glances.

Finally, Marcus approaches Logan, his face drawn with fatigue. “They’re loading George into the chopper now. Toto wants you on standby, but we won’t make any decisions until we hear from the medical team.”

Logan nods, his stomach churning with a mix of concern for George and nervous anticipation. “Understood. How ... how does he look?”

Marcus sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Still unconscious, but stable. They’re optimistic, but they won’t know more until they run some tests at the hospital.”

As if on cue, the distant thrum of helicopter blades fills the air. Logan steps out of the garage, shielding his eyes against the sun as he watches the medical helicopter rise into the sky, carrying George away.

You appear beside him, your eyes red-rimmed but dry. “Carmen’s gone with him,” you say softly. “Vati arranged for a car to take her to the hospital.”

Logan nods, not taking his eyes off the retreating helicopter. “This is the part of the job we try not to think about, isn’t it?”

You lean against him slightly, seeking comfort. “Yeah. It’s easy to forget sometimes, when everything’s going well. But days like today ... they remind us of the reality.”

Logan wraps an arm around your shoulders, offering what support he can. “George is tough. He’ll pull through this.”

You nod against his shoulder. “I hope so. God, I hope so.”

As the helicopter disappears from view, Logan feels the weight of the moment settle over him. The exhilaration of potentially getting his chance to drive is tempered by the circumstances that might make it possible.

“Come on,” he says gently, guiding you back towards the garage. “Let’s get back inside. There’s work to be done, and George would kick our butts if he knew we were standing around moping.”

You manage a weak chuckle. “You’re right. He’d probably tell us to get back to optimizing the aero package or something.”

As they walk back into the garage, Logan can’t help but feel the shift in the atmosphere. The team moves with renewed purpose, channeling their worry into productivity.

Toto approaches them, his face set in determined lines. “Logan, I need you in the simulator within the hour. If George can’t drive, we need you ready to step in at a moment’s notice.”

Logan straightens, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. “Yes, sir. I won’t let the team down.”

Toto nods approvingly. “I know you won’t. Y/N, I need you to liaise with the medical team. Keep me updated on George’s condition.”

You nod, already pulling out your phone. “On it, Vati.”

As Toto moves away, Logan turns to you. “Hey,” he says softly, “we’ve got this, okay? Whatever happens, we’ll handle it.”

You give him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Logan. I ... I’m glad you’re here.”

Logan feels a warmth spread through his chest at your words. “Me too,” he says. “Now, let’s show everyone what Mercedes is made of.”

***

Logan’s heart pounds as he approaches Toto’s office. The events of the past twenty-four hours have left him in a state of emotional whiplash, torn between concern for George and the possibility of his own opportunity.

He knocks on the door, hearing Toto’s muffled “Come in.” Taking a deep breath, Logan enters.

Toto looks up from his desk, his face etched with fatigue. “Logan, thank you for coming. Please, sit down.”

Logan sinks into the chair across from Toto, his mouth suddenly dry. “How ... how’s George?” He manages to ask.

Toto sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. “Not good, I’m afraid. The doctors have completed their initial assessments. George has suffered multiple injuries — a concussion, fractured ribs, and a broken collarbone. The most concerning is a compound fracture in his left leg.”

Logan winces, imagining the pain George must be in. “That sounds serious.”

“It is,” Toto confirms. “The medical team estimates his recovery will take around nine months. Which brings me to why I’ve called you here.”

Logan’s pulse quickens, a mix of anticipation and guilt churning in his stomach.

Toto leans forward, his gaze intense. “We need you to step up, Logan. The team needs you to drive full-time for the entire season.”

Despite having suspected this might be coming, hearing the words out loud leaves Logan momentarily speechless.

“I ... of course, sir,” he finally manages. “I’ll do whatever the team needs.”

Toto nods, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “I know this isn’t how you wanted your chance to come. But I believe you’re ready for this. George believes it too.”

Logan’s head snaps up. “You’ve spoken to George?”

“Briefly,” Toto confirms. “He’s still groggy from the pain medication, but he was clear on one thing — he wants you in that car.”

A lump forms in Logan’s throat. “I ... I don’t know what to say.”

Toto stands, coming around the desk to place a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “You don’t need to say anything. Just drive, Logan. Show us what you’re capable of.”

Logan nods, standing as well. “I won’t let you down, sir. Or George.”

As he turns to leave, Toto’s voice stops him. “Logan? Remember, this is your chance. Don’t waste it feeling guilty. George wouldn’t want that.”

Logan manages a weak smile. “I’ll try to remember that. Thank you, Toto.”

Stepping out of Toto’s office, Logan feels as though he’s in a daze. This is what he’s been working towards his entire career — a full-time drive with a top team. So why does it feel so complicated?

Instead of heading to the cafeteria or his driver’s room, Logan finds himself walking towards the simulator. He nods at the technician on duty, who looks surprised to see him.

“Logan? We weren’t expecting you today ...”

“I know,” Logan says, already reaching for his racing gloves. “But I need to be in there. Can you set up a long run in Melbourne?”

The technician hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Of course. Just ... don’t overdo it, okay?”

Logan manages a tight smile. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

As he settles into the simulator, Logan feels a sense of calm wash over him. Here, in this imitation of a race car, things make sense. There’s no guilt, no complicated emotions — just him, the track, and the pursuit of speed.

Hours pass in a blur of virtual laps and telemetry data. Logan pushes himself harder with each run, shaving off tenths of a second here and there. He’s so focused that he doesn’t hear the door open behind him.

“You know, I’m pretty sure there are labor laws against working this hard,” your voice cuts through his concentration.

Logan startles, nearly losing control of the virtual car. He quickly ends the simulation and turns to face you, sheepishly running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

“Y/N, I didn’t hear you come in.”

You raise an eyebrow, holding up a small box. “Clearly. I’ve been standing here for five minutes, watching you try to bend the laws of physics.”

Logan manages a weak chuckle. “Just trying to get up to speed. What’s in the box?”

You grin, opening it to reveal a single cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. “A little celebration. Vati told me about your promotion.”

The sight of the cupcake makes Logan’s stomach twist uncomfortably. “I ... I don’t really feel like celebrating.”

Your smile fades, replaced by a look of understanding. “I get it. But Logan, running yourself ragged in here won’t help anyone. Least of all George.”

Logan sighs, slumping in the simulator seat. “I know. It’s just ... this isn’t how I wanted it to happen. George is hurt and I’m benefiting from it. It feels wrong.”

You set the cupcake down and perch on the edge of the simulator, your eyes soft with sympathy. “Logan, listen to me. What happened to George is terrible, but it’s not your fault. And taking this opportunity doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” Logan asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should be devastated that my teammate is hurt, not ... not excited about getting my chance.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm. “Who says you can’t be both? You can be worried about George and excited about your opportunity. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Logan looks up at you, seeing the sincerity in your eyes. “I just ... I don’t want people to think I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

You shake your head firmly. “Anyone who knows you would never think that. And you know what? George wouldn’t want you feeling this way. He’d want you to grab this chance with both hands and show everyone what you can do.”

Logan manages a small smile. “You sound pretty sure about that.”

“That’s because I am,” you say, squeezing his arm gently. “I talked to George earlier. You know what he said? He said, and I quote, ‘Tell that American idiot to stop moping and start driving. I didn’t crash just for him to waste this chance.’”

A surprised laugh escapes Logan. “He really said that?”

You grin. “Well, maybe I paraphrased a bit. The pain meds make him a little ... colorful. But the sentiment is there.”

Logan shakes his head, feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders. “George Russell, giving pep talks from his hospital bed. Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know him,” you say simply. “And you know he’s right. Logan, this is your moment. Don’t let guilt or fear hold you back.”

Logan takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. “You’re right. Both of you. I just ... I needed to hear it, I guess.”

You smile, reaching for the cupcake. “That’s what friends are for. Now, are you going to help me eat this or do I have to force-feed you?”

Logan chuckles, accepting the cupcake. “I wouldn’t dream of making you eat alone.”

As the two of you share the small treat, Logan feels something shift inside him. The guilt doesn’t disappear entirely, but it’s tempered now by determination. George is counting on him, the team is counting on him, and he’s not going to let them down.

“So,” you say, licking frosting off your finger, “what’s next on the agenda, hotshot? More simulator laps?”

Logan shakes his head, a newfound energy coursing through him. “No, I think I’ve done enough of that for today. I was thinking maybe we could go over some of the race strategies? If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Your eyes light up. “Are you kidding? Strategy talk is my favorite kind of talk. But first, you’re going to take a shower and eat a proper meal. Can’t have our driver passing out from exhaustion, can we?”

Logan grins, feeling truly relaxed for the first time since George’s accident. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.”

As you leave the simulator together, Logan feels a surge of gratitude. For George’s support, for the team’s faith in him, and for your friendship. Whatever challenges lie ahead, he knows he won’t face them alone.

“Hey, Y/N?” He says as you walk down the corridor.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

You bump your shoulder against his, a warm smile on your face. “Anytime, Sargeant. Now, let’s go plot your path to Formula 1 glory. I hear the catering team made lasagna today.”

Logan laughs, matching your stride. The road ahead won’t be easy, but with friends like you by his side, he’s ready to face whatever comes his way.

***

The Australian sun beats down on the Albert Park circuit as Logan sits in his Mercedes, heart pounding in his chest. The familiar pre-race butterflies are amplified tenfold — this isn’t just any race, it’s his debut for Mercedes.

“Okay Logan, how are we feeling?” Marcus Dudley’s voice crackles through the radio.

Logan takes a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Remember, clean start, manage those tires, and we’ll see where we end up. You’ve got this, kid.”

As the formation lap begins, Logan can’t help but think of George, watching from his hospital bed. This one’s for you, he thinks.

“And we’re off for the formation lap here in Melbourne. All eyes are on Logan Sargeant today, the young American making his Mercedes debut in rather unexpected circumstances.”

“That’s right, Crofty. It’s a big ask, stepping into George Russell’s shoes after that nasty crash in testing. But Toto Wolff clearly sees something in Sargeant, and this is his chance to prove the Mercedes boss right.”

The cars line up on the grid. Logan’s eyes are fixed on the lights. Red ... red ... red ...

“Lights out and away we go!”

Logan reacts instantly, getting a clean start off the line. He holds his position into the first corner, fending off a challenge from behind.

“And it’s a good start for Sargeant, maintaining his fifth place into Turn 1. His rookie teammate Kimi Antonelli has also held position in seventh.”

The first few laps are a blur of intense focus. Logan settles into a rhythm, hitting his marks and managing the gap to the cars ahead and behind.

“Great job, Logan,” Marcus says. “You’re keeping pace with the leaders. Let’s see if we can put some pressure on Norris ahead.”

Logan grits his teeth, pushing harder. He closes the gap to Lando’s McLaren, looking for any opportunity to make a move.

“Sargeant is really impressing here in his Mercedes debut. He’s matching the pace of the frontrunners and is now right on the gearbox of Lando Norris.”

On lap 15, Logan sees his chance. Norris locks up slightly into Turn 3, and Logan pounces, sweeping around the outside to take fourth place.

“Yes!” Logan exclaims, unable to contain his excitement.

“Brilliant move, Logan!” Marcus cheers. “P4 now, let’s keep this up!”

“What a pass from Sargeant! He’s showing no signs of first-race nerves here, making a bold move on the more experienced McLaren driver. The Mercedes pit wall will no doubt be delighted with this performance so far.”

The race continues, with Logan holding his position firmly. He’s in a rhythm now, hitting every apex, managing his tires expertly.

Around the halfway point, things get more challenging. “Logan, we’ve got Verstappen closing in behind. He’s on fresher tires, so don’t take any unnecessary risks,” Marcus warns.

Logan nods to himself, adjusting his focus. He defends hard but fair, making his car as wide as possible on the straights.

“Verstappen is all over the back of Sargeant now. This is a real test for the young American — can he hold off the reigning world champion?”

For several laps, Logan and Max engage in a thrilling battle. Logan uses every trick in his arsenal, positioning his car perfectly to deny Max any opportunity.

“This is exceptional defensive driving from Sargeant. He’s not putting a wheel wrong under immense pressure from Verstappen.”

Finally, on lap 42, Max makes his move, slipping past Logan into Turn 1.

“Verstappen’s through,” Logan reports, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“No worries, Logan,” Marcus reassures him. “You did brilliantly to hold him off for so long. We’re still on for a great result here. Keep pushing!”

The final laps of the race are a test of endurance. Logan’s arms ache, his neck strains against the g-forces, but he pushes through the fatigue.

“As we enter the final lap here in Melbourne, Logan Sargeant is holding steady in fifth place. What a debut this has been for the American in the Mercedes!”

Logan crosses the finish line, a mix of exhaustion and elation washing over him. He’s done it — he’s finished his first race for Mercedes.

“And that’s the chequered flag, Logan!” Marcus’ voice comes through, filled with excitement. “P4! Fantastic job, mate!”

Logan blinks in confusion. “P4? But Verstappen passed me ...”

“Leclerc had a late puncture,” Marcus explains. “You moved back up to fourth. I’m completely serious, Logan. You’ve just finished P4 in your first race for us. You should be incredibly proud.”

The reality of his achievement starts to sink in. “I ... wow. Thank you, Marcus. Thank you to everyone on the team. This is ... it’s incredible.”

As Logan does his cool-down lap, waving to the cheering crowds, he feels a surge of emotion. This is what he’s worked for his entire life, and he’s proved he belongs here.

“What a drive from Logan Sargeant! Fourth place in his Mercedes debut. Toto Wolff must be feeling very good about his decision right now.”

“Absolutely, Martin. Sargeant has shown real maturity and pace today. This could be the start of something special for the young American.”

Logan pulls into parc fermé, parking behind the top three cars. As he climbs out, he’s immediately engulfed in a group hug by the Mercedes team.

Toto appears, a broad smile on his face. “Excellent job, Logan. You’ve made us all very proud today.”

“Thank you, sir,” Logan says, still slightly dazed. “I couldn’t have done it without the team’s support.”

As Logan makes his way through the paddock, he’s stopped by various team members and even rival drivers offering congratulations. It’s surreal, but Logan soaks in every moment.

Suddenly, he spots a familiar face pushing through the crowd. You’re beaming, your eyes shining with pride and unshed tears.

“Logan!” You exclaim, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “That was amazing! I knew you could do it!”

Logan hugs you back, laughing. “I can hardly believe it myself. P4 ... it’s like a dream.”

You pull back, your hands on his shoulders. “Well, believe it. You earned this, Logan. Every single bit of it.”

As you chat excitedly about the race, Logan’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out to see a message from George.

Not bad for a newbie. Next time aim for the podium 😉 Seriously though, great job. Proud of you.

Logan grins, showing you the message. “Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me next race.”

You laugh, linking your arm through his. “Oh, I have no doubt you’re up for the challenge. But first, I think this calls for a celebration. Vati is organizing a team dinner. You up for it?”

Logan nods, feeling a warmth spread through his chest that has nothing to do with the Australian heat. “Absolutely. Lead the way!”

As you walk towards the Mercedes hospitality area, Logan can’t help but reflect on the whirlwind of the past few weeks. From reserve driver to P4 in his debut race with the team — it’s more than he could have ever imagined.

“Hey,” you say softly, nudging him. “What are you thinking about?”

Logan smiles, squeezing your arm gently. “Just ... grateful. For this opportunity, for the team’s faith in me, for your support. I couldn’t have done this without you, Y/N.”

You blush slightly, looking pleased. “That’s what friends are for, right? Now come on, American boy. Time to bask in your well-deserved glory.”

As you join the celebrating team, Logan feels a sense of belonging wash over him. This is where he’s meant to be, and he’s ready for whatever challenges and triumphs lie ahead.

***

The Miami sun beats down on the podium as Logan stands there, still in disbelief. The weight of the P2 trophy in his hands feels surreal, a reminder of what he’s just achieved. The roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, the elation of his first podium finish — it’s almost too much to process.

As he steps down from the podium, sticky with champagne and grinning from ear to ear, Logan is immediately engulfed by the Mercedes team. Hands pat his back, voices offer congratulations, but it all becomes a blur as he spots a familiar figure pushing through the crowd.

You burst through, your eyes shining with pride and excitement. Without hesitation, you throw your arms around him, not caring about the champagne that’s now soaking into your team shirt.

“Logan! Oh my god, you did it!” You exclaim, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m so, so proud of you!”

Logan laughs, wrapping his free arm around you and spinning you both around in a moment of pure joy. “I can hardly believe it myself,” he admits as he sets you down. “It’s like a dream.”

You pull back, your hands on his shoulders, beaming up at him. “Well, believe it, hotshot. P2 in your home race — you’ve earned this!”

Logan feels a warmth spread through his chest that has nothing to do with the Miami heat. “Thanks, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without the team’s support. Without your support.”

You shake your head, still grinning. “Oh no, this was all you out there on the track. But speaking of support ...” Your eyes sparkle mischievously. “We absolutely have to celebrate properly tonight. Miami style!”

Logan raises an eyebrow, amused. “Miami style? Should I be worried?”

You laugh, the sound making Logan’s heart skip a beat. “Only if you’re afraid of having too much fun. Come on, it’s your first podium, in your home race no less! We have to mark the occasion.”

Before Logan can respond, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. The brief contact sends a jolt through him, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“Promise me you’ll come out with the team tonight,” you say, your eyes locked on his. “No excuses about needing to analyze data or whatever. Tonight, we celebrate!”

Logan nods, still a bit dazed from the kiss. “I ... yeah, of course. I promise.”

You beam at him. “Perfect! I’ll text you the details later. Now, go bask in your well-deserved glory. I think there are about a hundred journalists waiting to talk to Miami’s new hero.”

With a wink, you disappear back into the crowd, leaving Logan standing there, trophy in hand and mind reeling.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of interviews, photographs, and congratulations. Logan goes through the motions, answering questions on autopilot while his mind keeps drifting back to that moment with you.

It didn’t mean anything, he tells himself. You’re European, after all. Cheek kisses are just a normal thing, right? It was just excitement over the podium, nothing more.

But try as he might, Logan can’t shake the memory of your lips on his cheek, the way his heart raced at your touch.

“Earth to Logan,” Marcus’ voice cuts through his thoughts. “You still with us, mate?”

Logan blinks, focusing on his race engineer. “Sorry, what was that?”

Marcus grins knowingly. “I said, great job out there today. You should be proud. But maybe save the daydreaming for after the debrief, yeah?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “Right, sorry. Just ... still processing everything, I guess.”

“I bet,” Marcus chuckles. “First podium’s always special. Even more so on home turf. Now, let’s go over those last few laps ...”

As they dive into the race analysis, Logan tries to focus. But his mind keeps wandering. To the podium. To the celebration to come. To you.

It’s just excitement over the race result, he rationalizes. You’re his boss’s daughter, for crying out loud. And more importantly, you’re his friend. One of his best friends, if he’s honest with himself. He can’t risk messing that up by reading too much into a friendly gesture.

The debrief finally ends, and Logan heads back to his driver’s room to change. As he’s pulling on a fresh team shirt, his phone buzzes with a text from you.

E11EVEN at 10 PM. Wear something nice 😘 Can’t wait to celebrate with you!

Logan stares at the message, his heart doing that annoying skip thing again. It’s just a normal text, he tells himself. Friends celebrate together all the time. The kiss doesn’t mean anything.

Right?

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This is ridiculous. He just achieved his first podium in Formula 1, at his home race no less. He should be on top of the world, not overthinking a simple friendly interaction.

As he leaves the track, Logan is stopped by a group of fans clamoring for autographs and selfies. He obliges with a smile, the excitement of the crowd helping to lift his mood.

“Logan! Logan!” A young boy calls out. “You were amazing today! I want to be just like you when I grow up!”

Logan kneels down to the boy’s level, touched by his enthusiasm. “Thanks, buddy. Just remember, it takes a lot of hard work and dedication. But if you believe in yourself and never give up, you can achieve anything.”

The boy nods solemnly, clutching his newly signed cap to his chest. “I will! I’m going to practice every day!”

As Logan stands, he catches sight of you talking to some team members nearby. You glance over, catching his eye, and give him a warm smile and a thumbs up. Logan feels that now-familiar flutter in his chest and quickly turns back to the fans.

It’s going to be a long night, he thinks to himself.

Back at the hotel, Logan takes his time getting ready for the celebration. He stands in front of the mirror, fussing with his hair and second-guessing his outfit choice. Why is he so nervous? It’s just a team celebration, like dozens he’s been to before.

But it’s not just any celebration, a voice in his head reminds him. It’s his first podium celebration. And you’ll be there.

Logan groans, running a hand through his hair and messing it up again. “Get it together, Sargeant,” he mutters to his reflection. “It’s just a night out with the team. With your friend. Your boss’s daughter. Who you definitely don’t have any non-platonic feelings for.”

Even he doesn’t believe himself.

A knock at the door startles him out of his internal monologue. “Logan? You ready?” Kimi’s voice calls out.

Logan takes a deep breath, giving himself one last look in the mirror. “Yeah, coming!” He calls back.

As he joins Kimi in the hallway, his teammate gives him an appraising look. “Not bad, Sargeant. Trying to impress someone?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “What? No, I just ... wanted to look nice for the celebration.”

Kimi raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Uh-huh. Sure. Come on, lover boy. Your adoring public awaits.”

As they make their way to the club, Logan tries to calm his nerves. It’s just a normal team celebration, he tells himself. Nothing to be nervous about. You’re just friends. Really good friends who sometimes share cheek kisses and make his heart race with a simple smile.

Oh, who is he kidding? He’s in trouble and he knows it.

The bass from the club is audible from down the street, and as they approach, Logan sees a line stretching around the block. But Kimi leads him straight to the VIP entrance, where they’re immediately ushered inside.

The club is a sensory overload — pulsing music, flashing lights, and the press of bodies on the dance floor. Logan blinks, trying to adjust to the atmosphere. Suddenly, he feels a hand on his arm and turns to see you beaming up at him.

“You made it!” You shout over the music, your eyes sparkling in the club lights. “Come on, everyone’s waiting to toast the man of the hour!”

As you lead him through the crowd, your hand still on his arm, Logan tries to ignore the electricity he feels at your touch. Friends touch all the time, he reminds himself. It doesn’t mean anything.

You reach a VIP section where the rest of the team is gathered. A cheer goes up as they spot Logan, and suddenly he’s being passed around for hugs and backslaps and congratulations.

Toto appears, handing Logan a glass of champagne. “To Logan,” he says, raising his own glass. “For a brilliant drive and Mercedes’ first podium of the season. May it be the first of many!”

The team echoes the toast and Logan takes a sip of the bubbly, feeling a surge of pride and belonging. This is what he’s worked for his entire life and he’s finally made it.

As the celebration continues, Logan finds himself relaxing, caught up in the excitement and camaraderie of the team. He chats with mechanics, engineers, and fellow drivers, reliving the best moments of the race.

But his eyes keep drifting back to you. You’re in your element, moving from group to group, laughing and chatting animatedly. Every now and then, you glance his way, flashing him a smile that makes his heart race.

It’s just the atmosphere, Logan tells himself. The adrenaline from the race, the excitement of the celebration. That’s all it is.

But as the night wears on and the champagne flows freely, Logan finds it harder and harder to maintain that rationalization. Especially when you grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor, your body moving in perfect rhythm to the pulsing beat.

“Come on!” You shout over the music, grinning up at him. “Show me some of those dance moves!”

Logan laughs, letting himself get caught up in the moment. He may not be the world’s best dancer, but with you smiling at him like that, he feels like he could take on anything.

As you dance, Logan can’t help but notice how perfectly you fit against him, how natural it feels to have his hands on your waist as you move together. It’s just dancing, he reminds himself. Friends dance together all the time.

But when the DJ switches to a slower song and you step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, Logan knows he’s fighting a losing battle. There’s no denying the way his heart races, the way his skin tingles where you touch him.

As you sway together, Logan finally allows himself to admit the truth he’s been trying to ignore for months. He’s falling for you, hard and fast, and he has no idea what to do about it.

You look up at him, your eyes soft in the dim light of the club. “I’m really proud of you,” you say, your voice barely audible over the music. “You belong here, you know. On the podium, in F1, with m-” you cut yourself off, biting your lip.

Logan’s heart leaps. Were you about to say “with me”? He wants to ask, wants to pull you closer and find out if you feel this connection too.

But before he can say anything, the song ends and the moment is broken. You step back, a slightly flustered look on your face.

“I, uh ... I need a drink,” you say quickly. “Want anything?”

Logan shakes his head, still trying to process what just happened. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

As you disappear into the crowd, Logan makes his way back to the VIP section, his mind reeling. What was that? Did he imagine the moment between you? And more importantly, what is he going to do about these feelings he can no longer deny?

As he sinks into a plush couch, Logan realizes that his first podium might not be the most significant event of the night after all. Whatever happens next, he knows one thing for certain — his relationship with you will never be the same.

***

The Union Jack flutters in the cool Silverstone breeze as Logan crosses the finish line, his heart pounding in his ears. The chequered flag waves, and suddenly, the reality hits him like a tidal wave.

“Logan, you’ve done it!” Marcus’ voice crackles through the radio, filled with unbridled joy. “P1! Your first Formula 1 win!”

Logan lets out a whoop of excitement, pounding his fist on the steering wheel. “Yes! Oh my god, yes! We did it, guys! Thank you, thank you so much!”

As he starts his cooldown lap, waving to the cheering crowds, Logan can’t help but chuckle at the irony. An American winning the British Grand Prix. He can almost hear the collective groan of disappointment from the British fans who were hoping for a home victory.

“Sorry, folks,” he murmurs to himself, grinning. “The colonists strike again.”

The sea of orange in the grandstands catches his eye — Dutch fans who always come to support Max Verstappen no matter the location. Logan remembers the intense battle he had with the reigning world champion in the closing laps. The memory sends another surge of pride through him. He didn’t just win, he beat the best of the best.

As he rounds the final corner, heading towards parc fermé, Logan’s mind drifts to you. He wonders if you’re watching, if you’re as excited as he is. Ever since that kiss on the cheek in Miami, he’s been unable to get you out of his head. Every smile, every touch, every late-night strategy session has taken on new meaning.

But fear has held him back. Fear of ruining your friendship, fear of making things awkward with the team, fear of misreading the signals. So he’s kept his feelings bottled up, content (or so he tells himself) with your close friendship.

Logan pulls into his spot in parc fermé, bringing the car to a stop. He takes a deep breath, savoring this moment. His first win. It almost doesn’t feel real.

He unclips his harness and stands up in the cockpit, raising his arms in triumph. The roar of the crowd washes over him and he spots his team gathered at the barriers, jumping and cheering.

Without hesitation, Logan clambers out of the car and runs towards them. He leaps over the barrier, immediately engulfed in a sea of jubilant Mercedes personnel. Hands pat his back, voices offer congratulations, but Logan is searching for one face in particular.

Suddenly, the crowd parts, and there you are. Your eyes are shining with pride and something else, something that makes Logan’s heart race even faster than it already is.

Before he can say anything, you stride forward purposefully. Your hands grasp the collar of his race suit, and in one swift motion, you pull him towards you and press your lips firmly against his.

For a split second, Logan is too shocked to react. But then his brain catches up, and he’s kissing you back with every ounce of pent-up emotion he’s been holding back for months.

The world around you fades away — the cheering crowd, the flashing cameras, the excited chatter of the team. All Logan can focus on is the softness of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the rightness of this moment.

When you finally break apart, both slightly breathless, Logan can’t help but grin. “Wow,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. “That was ...”

“Long overdue,” you finish for him, a matching grin on your face.

Logan chuckles, his arms still wrapped around your waist. “I couldn’t agree more. But, uh ... your dad isn’t going to fire me for this, is he?”

You laugh, the sound music to Logan’s ears. “Please. He’s been trying to set us up for months. I think he’ll be relieved we finally figured it out on our own.”

Before Logan can respond, a throat clears behind them. They turn to see Toto standing there, an amused smirk on his face.

“While I’m thrilled you two have finally sorted yourselves out,” he says dryly, “perhaps we could save the more ... intimate celebrations for after the podium ceremony?”

Logan feels his face heat up, but you just laugh, linking your arm through his. “Sorry, Vati. Got caught up in the moment. Come on, Logan. Time to get you on that top step where you belong.”

As you make your way through the paddock, Logan can’t wipe the grin off his face. Crew members, other drivers, and media personnel offer their congratulations, but it all feels secondary to the warmth of you pressed against his side.

“So,” Logan says as they near the cooldown room, “does this mean you’ll be my date to the celebration tonight?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, I don’t know. I might have other plans. I hear there’s this hot new F1 winner in town ...”

Logan laughs, pulling you closer. “Oh yeah? Well, I happen to know him pretty well. I could put in a good word for you.”

You smile up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “I’d appreciate that. But you should know, I’m not really interested in a fling. I’m more of a long-term kind of girl.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat at the implication. “Good,” he says softly. “Because I’m in this for the long haul.”

Your smile softens, and you lean up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Glad we’re on the same page. Now go, your adoring public awaits. We’ll continue this discussion later.”

As Logan steps onto the podium not long after, the cheers of the crowd washing over him, he can’t help but think that this — the trophy, the champagne, the adulation — is only the second-best thing to happen to him today.

The ceremony passes in a blur of anthems, champagne sprays, and beaming smiles. Logan clutches his trophy, still hardly believing it’s real. As he steps down from the podium, he’s immediately swarmed by journalists, all clamoring for a quote from F1’s newest race winner.

“Logan! How does it feel to win your first Grand Prix?”

Logan grins, his eyes finding you in the crowd. “It’s incredible. A dream come true. But you know what? I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”

“What do you mean by that?” Another reporter asks.

Logan’s grin widens. “Let’s just say I’m feeling pretty unbeatable right now, both on and off the track.”

You roll your eyes at him from behind the journalists, but your smile gives away your amusement.

As the interviews wind down, Logan finally manages to break away from the press. He makes his way back to you, unable to keep the smile off his face.

“So,” he says, sliding an arm around your waist, “about the team celebration ...”

You lean into him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Oh, I think we might need to have our own private celebration first. You know, to properly commemorate your first win.”

Logan feels a thrill run through him at your words. “I like the way you think. But, uh ... what about your dad?”

You laugh, linking your fingers with his. “Logan, my dad’s the one who’s been pushing us together for months. Trust me, he’ll be thrilled. Although maybe don’t kiss me like that in front of him again. There are some things a father doesn’t need to see.”

Logan chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Noted. So, what now?”

“Now,” you say, tugging him towards the Mercedes motorhome, “we go change. Then we make a brief appearance at the team celebration. And after that ...” you trail off, your eyes twinkling with promise.

“After that?” Logan prompts, his heart racing with anticipation.

You grin up at him. “After that, we start our own celebration. I think we have a lot of lost time to make up for, don’t you?”

Logan nods, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Absolutely. And hey, I’m a quick learner. I bet I can make up for that lost time in record speed.”

You laugh, the sound making Logan’s heart soar. “Always the racer. But you know what? I think this is one race where taking it slow might be the winning strategy.”

As you make their way through the paddock, hand-in-hand, Logan can’t help but marvel at how much his life has changed in just a few short months. From reserve driver to race winner, from pining in silence to ... whatever this wonderful new thing with you is.

One thing’s for sure — this win will always be special. Not just because it’s his first, but because it’s the day everything finally fell into place. The day he not only conquered the track but also found the courage (with a little help) to follow his heart.

As the two of you reach the Mercedes motorhome, Logan pulls you close for one more quick kiss. “Hey,” he says softly, “just in case I forget to say it later ... thank you. For believing in me, for supporting me, for ... well, for everything.”

You smile up at him, your eyes soft with affection. “Always, Logan. Now come on, race winner. We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

***

The bright lights of the Tonight Show studio beat down on Logan as he sits across from Jimmy Fallon, trying to keep his nerves in check. It’s his first major American talk show appearance, and he wants to make a good impression.

Jimmy leans forward, a warm smile on his face. “So, Logan, it’s been quite a year for you, hasn’t it? From losing your seat at Williams to winning races with Mercedes. How has your life changed?”

Logan chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Oh man, Jimmy, where do I even start? It’s been an absolute whirlwind. You know, when I lost that Williams seat, I thought my F1 dream was over. I was devastated.”

Jimmy nods sympathetically. “I can imagine. That must have been tough.”

“It was,” Logan agrees. “But you know what? Looking back now, I can honestly say it was one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

Jimmy raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? How so?”

Logan grins, leaning forward in his chair. “Well, first of all, it led to this incredible opportunity with Mercedes. I mean, going from potentially being out of F1 to driving for one of the top teams? It’s like something out of a movie.”

The audience cheers, and Logan feels a surge of pride. He’s come a long way from that dejected kid in Toto’s office last year.

“But that’s not all,” Logan continues, his smile softening. “Losing that seat also led me to the love of my life.”

A collective “aww” rises from the audience, and Jimmy leans in, clearly sensing a good story. “Tell us more!”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up slightly, but he can’t keep the smile off his face. “Her name is Y/N. She works for Mercedes, and she’s ... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, beautiful. She was the one who really helped me believe in myself when I joined the team.”

Jimmy grins. “Sounds like quite a woman. How did you two get together?”

Logan laughs, remembering that day at Silverstone. “Well, I’d been pining after her for months, too scared to make a move. Then I won my first race at the British Grand Prix, and she just ... grabbed me and kissed me right there in parc fermé. In front of the whole team, the cameras, everyone.”

The audience cheers and whistles, and Jimmy laughs. “Wow! Talk about a victory celebration! So, she made the first move, huh?”

Logan nods, grinning. “Yep. Thank god one of us had the courage. Although I have to say, her dad being my boss made things a little awkward at first.”

Jimmy’s eyes widen. “Wait, what? Her dad is your boss? You mean ...”

“Yep,” Logan confirms, enjoying the host’s reaction. “I’m dating the boss’s daughter. Toto Wolff’s daughter, to be exact.”

The audience gasps and murmurs, and Jimmy leans back in his chair, looking impressed. “Wow. That’s ... that’s quite a story. So, how does Toto feel about all this?”

Logan chuckles. “You know, he’s been surprisingly cool about it. Turns out he’d been trying to set us up for months. I think he was just relieved we finally figured it out on our own.”

Jimmy laughs. “Well, that’s good to hear. No awkward ‘stay away from my daughter’ talks then?”

“Oh, there were talks,” Logan says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “But they were more along the lines of ‘if you hurt her, I’ll demote you to test driver faster than you can say DRS.’”

The audience laughs, and Jimmy shakes his head in amusement. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the incentive to be on your best behavior!”

Logan nods, his expression softening. “Absolutely. But you know, even without that ... Y/N is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’d never do anything to mess that up.”

Another “aww” rises from the audience, and Jimmy smiles warmly. “That’s beautiful, Logan. It sounds like things are really falling into place for you.”

“They really are,” Logan agrees. Then, leaning in conspiratorially, he adds, “And you know what? I’ve actually got a little scoop for you, Jimmy. The team’s given me permission to reveal something pretty big.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up and he leans in as well. “Oh? Do tell!”

Logan grins, then stage whispers, loud enough for the audience to hear, “I’ve just signed a contract extension with Mercedes. I’ll be with the team until 2028.”

The audience erupts in cheers, and Jimmy’s jaw drops. “What? Logan, that’s incredible! Congratulations!”

Logan beams, feeling a surge of pride and excitement. “Thanks, Jimmy. I still can’t quite believe it myself. Three more years with one of the top teams in F1 ... it’s a dream come true.”

Jimmy shakes his head in amazement. “Wow. From losing your Williams seat to a long-term contract with Mercedes. That’s quite the turnaround.”

“It really is,” Logan agrees. “And you know what? I owe a lot of it to Y/N. She’s been my biggest supporter, my rock through all of this. I don’t think I could have done it without her.”

Jimmy smiles warmly. “It sounds like you two make quite the team. Is she here tonight?”

Logan nods, glancing towards the audience. “She is, actually. She’s sitting right over there.”

The camera pans to where you’re sitting, and you give a shy wave as the audience applauds. Logan feels his heart swell with affection at the sight of you.

Jimmy turns back to Logan, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, Logan, now that you’ve got this long-term contract sorted out ... any other long-term plans in the works? Maybe involving a certain boss’s daughter?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up, but he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “Well, Jimmy, let’s just say that when you find the right person, you want to hold onto them for as long as possible. But for now, we’re just enjoying the ride.”

Jimmy nods approvingly. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got a lot to celebrate. Speaking of which, I hear you’ve brought something special to share with us tonight?”

Logan grins, reaching behind his chair to pull out a bottle of champagne. “That’s right. This is the same type of champagne we used for my first win at Silverstone. I thought we could recreate a little podium celebration right here on the show.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up with excitement. “Oh, this is going to be fun! But wait, don’t you usually spray this stuff around?”

Logan laughs, standing up. “We sure do. Hope you don’t mind getting a little wet!”

As Logan shakes the bottle and pops the cork, spraying champagne all over a laughing Jimmy and the cheering audience, he can’t help but marvel at how far he’s come. From the depths of disappointment to the heights of success, both on and off the track.

After the champagne settles and they’re both wiping their faces, Jimmy turns to Logan with a grin. “Alright, Logan, before we let you go, I’ve got one more question for you. What’s next? You’ve got the dream job, the dream girl ... what more could Logan Sargeant possibly want?”

Logan pauses for a moment, considering. “You know, a year ago I would have said winning the World Championship was the ultimate goal. And don’t get me wrong, that’s still very much on my radar. But now ... now I think my goal is just to keep living this dream for as long as I can. To keep pushing myself on the track, to keep growing and learning, and to keep building a life with Y/N.”

He glances over at you in the audience, his eyes softening. “Because at the end of the day, all the trophies and champagne in the world don’t mean much if you don’t have someone to share them with.”

The audience “awws” once more, and Jimmy nods approvingly. “Well said, Logan. I think that’s a perfect note to end on. Ladies and gentlemen, Logan Sargeant!”

As the audience applauds and the show cuts to commercial, Logan makes his way off the stage, his heart full. He finds you waiting for him in the wings, a proud smile on your face.

“You were amazing out there,” you say, wrapping your arms around him.

Logan hugs you back, breathing in the familiar scent of your perfume. “Thanks. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much with all that mushy stuff.”

You laugh, pulling back to look at him. “Are you kidding? I loved every second of it. Although I have to say, that champagne spray was a bit much. You do realize you’re not actually on a podium, right?”

Logan grins sheepishly. “Sorry, force of habit. But hey, at least I didn’t kiss you in front of millions of viewers. That’s progress, right?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “My hero. Come on, liebling. Let’s go celebrate your big reveal properly.”

As you walk hand-in-hand towards the exit, Logan feels a sense of contentment wash over him. It’s been one hell of a journey, but with you by his side and a bright future ahead, he knows the best is yet to come.

And as you step out into the New York night, Logan can’t help but think that this — the glamor, the success, the adoration — is nothing compared to the simple joy of having you by his side.

Because in the end, it’s not about the trophies or the champagne. It’s about the journey and the people you share it with.

For Logan Sargeant, former underdog turned rising star, the real victory isn’t just on the track. It’s in the love he’s found, the dreams he’s achieving, and the future he’s building — one lap at a time.

[estellan0vella]

Shut Up, Mom! ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Toji & Sukuna (REQUESTED) Masterlist

You stand firm in the kitchen, arms crossed, after denying your child's request for more sweets. Gojo lounges casually nearby, a faint smile playing on his lips. Your little one, clearly frustrated, looks up at you and blurts out, "Shut up, Mom!"

The air grows tense instantly. Gojo's blue eyes narrow, the usually playful glint gone in a flash. He straightens, walking over to kneel beside your child, his expression serious yet calm. "Hey, we don't talk to Mom like that," he says, his voice low but firm. He gently cups your child's cheek, his touch a blend of sternness and care. "Mom loves you and makes rules to keep you from getting sick. Apologize to her."

Your child glances between you and Gojo, recognizing the gravity in his usually lighthearted father's eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom," they mumble, looking down.

Gojo's smile returns, a bit softer now. He ruffles their hair. "Good. Now, how about we find something else fun to do together?" 

In the living room, you're putting away toys when your child whines for more TV time. When you deny the request, they stomp their foot and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Geto, who has been quietly reading on the couch, lowers his book, his usually calm demeanor shifting to one of quiet authority. He stands, approaching your child with a measured stride. "We don't speak to Mom like that," he says softly, yet his voice carries a weight that demands respect. He kneels to meet their eye level. "Why did you say that?"

Your child looks guilty, fidgeting under Geto's steady gaze. "I was mad."

Geto nods, his expression softening slightly. "I understand being mad, but words have power. Use them to express your feelings, not to hurt others. Apologize to Mom."

With a small nod, your child turns to you. "Sorry, Mom."

Geto smiles, patting their shoulder. "Good. Now, let's find a way to enjoy the rest of our day without TV."

You're in the study, helping your child with their homework when they throw down their pencil in frustration. "Shut up, Mom!" they snap when you suggest they redo a wrong answer.

Nanami, who had just walked in with a cup of tea for you, freezes. His jaw tightens, and he places the cup on the desk with deliberate calmness. He steps over, placing a hand on your child's shoulder. "We do not speak to Mom that way," he says, his tone firm but not loud. "She is here to help you."

Your child looks up at him, eyes wide. "But it's hard!"

Nanami nods, his expression softening but remaining serious. "I know it's hard, but being disrespectful doesn't make it easier. Apologize to Mom and let's try again together."

Your child sighs, looking down. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Nanami gives you a small, reassuring smile before turning back to your child. "Good. Now, let's tackle this problem together, step by step."

In the middle of a family game night, you deny your child an extra turn, trying to teach fairness. They scowl and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Choso, who has been arranging the next round of pieces, looks up sharply. His eyes, usually so gentle, darken with concern. He sets the pieces down and moves closer, crouching beside your child. "That's not how we talk to Mom," he says, his voice calm but with an edge of disappointment. "Mom is being fair."

Your child pouts, crossing their arms. "It's not fair!"

Choso sighs, placing a hand on their small shoulder. "Life isn't always fair, but respect is important. Apologize to Mom and let's continue our game with kindness."

Your child hesitates, then mumbles, "Sorry, Mom."

Choso smiles softly, nodding. "Thank you. Now, let's see if we can make the game more fun for everyone."

During a meal, you tell your child they can't have dessert until they finish their vegetables. They glare at you and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Sukuna, who has been eating quietly, pauses mid-bite. His eyes flash dangerously, and he slowly puts down his utensils. Rising from his seat, he moves with a predatory grace to stand beside your child. "What did you just say?" he asks, his voice low and menacing.

Your child shrinks back, suddenly aware of the gravity of their outburst. "I... I said shut up..."

Sukuna leans down, his presence overwhelming. "You will not speak to your mother that way," he growls. "She deserves your respect. Apologize. Now."

Trembling, your child looks up at you. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Sukuna straightens, his intense gaze still fixed on them. "Good. Now, eat your vegetables. Or I eat your toes"

"Ryo!"

You deny your child's request to stay up late, and they respond with a defiant, "Shut up, Mom!"

Toji, who has been leaning against the doorframe, straightens immediately. His expression hardens, and he walks over, his steps heavy with purpose. Kneeling down, he looks your child directly in the eye, his voice a low rumble. "We don't talk to Mom like that. Ever."

Your child squirms under his intense gaze. "But I want to stay up!"

Toji shakes his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. "That doesn't matter. Respect is non-negotiable. Apologize to Mom right now."

Your child glances at you, then back at Toji, clearly chastened. "Sorry, Mom."

Toji's expression softens slightly, and he ruffles their hair. "Good. Now let's get ready for bed. No arguments."

[eiloveir]

→﹐naruto imagines !

naruto men and their jealous streaks

genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff—very romantic

characters: uzumaki naruto, uchiha sasuke, nara shikamaru, gaara

warnings: none, aside from the potential cringe and the relationship dynamics

author’s note: this idea sprang from a post i saw on pins (again)

uzumaki naruto

“is everything alright? you seem a bit off,” you asked him, concern evident in your voice. he had been his usual cheerful self, but when you both said your goodbyes to the people of sunagakure, his behavior had shifted dramatically. he hadn’t uttered a single word since then, and his silence was starting to worry you. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to cause this sudden change in him. but he didn’t answer right away. instead, he folded his arms across his chest and slouched slightly, his shoulders sagging. he turned to look at you, his eyes holding is something else you couldn’t quite place. his mouth was set in a pout, lips pursed tightly, making it clear that he was upset about something. his expression was a far cry from his usual upbeat and energetic self.

“you don’t do that with me...” he mumbled under his breath, but his voice was just loud enough for you to hear. “the... what?” you asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. you could sense the tension emanating from him as he shifted uncomfortably beside you. his eyes flitted towards you, searching for some sign that you were pretending not to understand. when he realized that your confusion was genuine, he let out a sigh and averted his gaze. “why do you talk with him that way?” you blinked in surprise, taken aback by his sudden question. his behavior was so unlike his usual self, and you struggled to understand the root of his discomfort. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to grasp the meaning behind his words. his sulky demeanor was puzzling, leaving you to wonder why he was so unsettled over what seemed like a minor issue. naruto fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with having to vocalize his romantic feelings. he toyed with the hem of his jacket, his gaze fixed on the ground. “when you talk to him,” he began hesitantly, “it’s different. you’re... softer, kinder, almost like you’re more patient with him. it feels like... like you don’t talk to me that way.” as his words sank in, you began to understand what made him act like that. seeing him like this, open and hurt, tugged at your heart. you reached out, gently placing a reassuring hand on his arm, “naruto,” you said softly, “you mean a lot to me. i had no idea i was speaking differently to him. maybe it’s just because i’m trying to be respectful. but that doesn’t mean you’re any less important to me. you have a special place in my heart, always." he lifted his gaze to meet yours, his eyes reflecting a roller coaster of emotions—relief, doubt, and hope. a small, hesitant smile began to form on his lips, and he leaned in slightly, seeking the comfort and reassurance of your presence. “really?” “really,” you confirmed, giving his arm a squeeze. “you’re special to me in ways you can’t even imagine.” his expression softened further, and he let out a deep breath, as if releasing the jealousy he had been carrying. his earlier sulkiness melted away, replaced by a shy, contented smile that made your heart flutter. he leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he sought solace in your closeness.

uchiha sasuke

“i’m not upset,” he said, though his tone betrayed him completely. the words were delivered within a composed manner, but beneath the surface, there was an edge—a trace of irritation that he was trying, and failing, to mask with an air of indifference.

you watched him closely, your own expression of skepticism. raising an eyebrow, you crossed your arms over your chest in a gesture that was both defensive and doubtful. his posture was a clear signal that you weren’t buying into his attempt at denial. “sure,” you replied, your voice thick with irony and disbelief. “you’re not upset.”

he exhaled a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, slowly turning his head away from your gaze. “i’m fine,” he insisted again, though his voice lacked the strength and certainty it usually carried, betraying his true state. the rigid tension in his shoulders and the way his stance became unnaturally tense suggested he was preparing for a confrontation he was clearly not eager to face. an air of unease enveloped him, and it was impossible for you not to be drawn to the sight of this usually composed uchiha, now so visibly disturbed. the very essence of his discomfort piqued your curiosity, making you wonder what could have unsettled him.

you tilted your head, examining him with a more scrutinizing gaze. although his expression remained a carefully maintained mask of neutrality, his eyes—dark and turbulent—spilled secrets of struggle he could scarcely conceal. despite his repeated claims of being fine, it was evident that something was troubling him. with a decision to probe a bit more, you leaned in slightly, a mischief dancing at the corners of your mouth. “you know, for someone who insists they’re not upset, you’re coming across as unusually grumpy right now.”

sasuke’s response was immediate. his eyes momentarily flashed with irritation, and he shot you a look — powerful enough to make most people instinctively retreat. “i’m not grumpy," he snapped back, but the low, grumbling quality of his voice did little to support his assertion. the sharpness and defensiveness in his tone only served the truth of what you had already surmised—something had clearly gotten under his skin, and he was making a strenuous effort to conceal his discomfort.

you let out a soft chuckle, feeling a strange sort of affection for his defensiveness. it wasn’t every day that sasuke allowed himself to lower his guard enough to show his true feelings, and it was even rarer for him to be visibly unsettled by something that seemed so minor. this glimpse into a side of him that was usually hidden from view brought a sense of pleasure to the moment. “it’s actually kind of charming,” you teased, your eyes dancing with amusement as you took in his uncharacteristic display of emotion.

sasuke’s glare grew more intense, yet you couldn’t miss the subtle blush that began to rise on his cheeks in response to your words. he swiftly turned his head, clearly attempting to conceal his embarrassment. “shut up,” he muttered, though his voice was softer than usual, lacking its typical edge. the vulnerability in his tone tugged at your heart, even as you maintained your playful teasing.

you couldn’t help but grin, feeling an irresistible urge to push his buttons a bit more. there was something endearing about seeing sasuke, who usually projected an air of composed detachment and aloofness, becoming flustered over something so seemingly insignificant. it was clear to you now that his irritation wasn’t just a reaction to your teasing but stemmed from a more personal place. perhaps he was feeling a a pang of jealousy—an emotion he rarely displayed openly. seeing him struggle to maintain his usual facade while clearly bothered by the situation made the moment all the more entertaining. “aw, come on, sasuke. don’t be like that,” you said, your tone light and playful. “it’s okay to admit that you’re jealous, you know.”

at the mention of jealousy, sasuke’s head jerked back towards you, his eyes widening in surprise and a blush crept across his cheeks. “jealous?” he said, clearly flustered by embarrassment. “what do i have to be jealous about?”

you shrugged casually, maintaining your smile as you observed him with a keen eye. “you tell me,” you replied in a calm and tone, “it seems like there’s something bothering you, or should i say, someone bothering you?” you added with a teasing edge, your gaze fixed on him, searching for any subtle hints that might reveal the true cause of his agitation.

sasuke’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and he tried to mask his embarrassment with a scowl. “i’m not jealous,” he insisted, crossing his arms over his chest in a defiant gesture. yet, his reluctance to meet your gaze betrayed him, making him appear almost like a child caught in a lie, desperately clinging to his facade. you couldn’t help but smirk, clearly seeing through his tough exterior. “really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow with a playful glint in your eye. “then why do you get all grumpy whenever i talk to someone else?” you took a step closer, closing the gap between you. the warm, charged atmosphere between you made his struggle to maintain composure all the more evident. sasuke’s glare deepened, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that resembled uncertainty. “i don’t get grumpy,” he growled, his voice a low, petulant rumble. yet, as he spoke, you noticed the way his jaw tightened and the slight tremor in his hands as he clenched them into fists. you snickered, thoroughly entertained by his defensiveness. “oh, you do, actually,” you countered, taking another step closer. the warmth radiating from him and the thick tension in the air made the moment feel charged. “you get all moody and irritable when i talk to other people. it’s kind of adorable.” sasuke’s eyes widened at your comment, and for a brief moment, he seemed lost for words. “what do you mean ‘adorable’?” he snapped, his voice rising slightly in pitch. you moved even closer, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “well, it’s cute seeing you all pouty and jealous,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him in an exaggerated manner. the playful teasing seemed to throw sasuke off balance, and he took a small step back. sasuke’s face flushed even more as you continued to tease him. he opened his mouth to retort, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. “i’m not pouting,” he protested weakly, though the pout in his voice was undeniable. the vulnerability in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. you chuckled, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. “oh, you definitely are,” you said, closing the final distance between you until you were standing right in front of him. reaching out, you gently tapped his nose with your finger, a gesture that made him flinch slightly. for a moment, sasuke looked like he was about to argue further, but then he seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping in defeat. his cheeks were still burning with embarrassment, but he finally relented. “fine,” he muttered, looking down at the ground to avoid your gaze. “i am jealous. okay?” he took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. when he spoke again, his voice was soft, almost hesitant. “it’s just... whenever you talk to someone else, i can’t help but feel annoyed. like they’re taking your attention away from me.” his admission was quiet and vulnerable, making your heart ache with a mixture of sympathy and affection. sasuke’s gaze finally lifted to meet yours, and you saw the sincerity in his eyes. “i don’t want to feel like this,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “but i can’t help it. it’s like... i want you all to myself.”

nara shikamaru

shikamaru’s gaze was sharp, a steely glint in his dark eyes that pierced through the quiet hum of the room. his brow furrowed, deepening the lines on his forehead, and his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. the weight of his scrutiny was noticable, and it felt as though the very air between you crackled with an unspoken accusation. he stood with an air of nonchalance that belied the tension simmering beneath his calm exterior, his arms crossed firmly over his chest in a stance that spoke of both confrontation and a subtle, guarded defensiveness. his fingers tapped impatiently against his biceps, a gesture that conveyed his agitation despite his otherwise relaxed posture. “the hell was that?” he demanded, the question hung in the air. the way he pronounced the words made it clear he was not merely curious but genuinely perturbed. it was as if he had caught you in the middle of deception and now sought an explanation that you were not entirely prepared to offer. his tone had a biting edge to it, the kind that suggested he was not in the mood for excuses or evasions. you stood there, attempting to maintain a façade of innocence, though you could feel the telltale signs of discomfort creeping into your demeanor. the corners of your mouth twitched ever so slightly, a smirk that you struggled to suppress. you knew exactly what he was referring to, the stunt you had pulled earlier—a move so calculated and audacious that it was almost as if you had choreographed it with the intention of provoking a reaction. the very thought of his jealousy bubbling beneath the surface was almost amusing, though you maintained your composure with practiced ease. “what?” you replied, feigning ignorance with a slowness, the memory of the earlier incident was so distant that you needed to retrieve it from the recesses of your mind. the subtle arch of your eyebrows and the slight widening of your eyes were all part of the act, a display of confusion that was more theatrical than genuine. his eyes narrowed further, and his expression hardened as he stared you down. the slight twitch in his jaw betrayed his struggle to contain his irritation, and the silence that followed was thick with the tension of unspoken words. he seemed to be grappling with his emotions—jealousy and frustration—as he waited for your response. “the thing you did earlier,” his gaze remained fixed on you, a demand for an explanation that would either placate his concerns or further ignite his displeasure. the accusation was implicit, wrapped in the layers of his carefully controlled demeanor, and it was clear that he was waiting for you to explain mystery behind your earlier actions.

his words caught you off guard, making your heart skip a beat as if it had been yanked into a sudden stop. the intensity in his gaze revealed that he was acutely aware of the event that had taken place earlier. you knew, with a feeling, that he was referring to the kiss you had planted on choji’s cheek—a mischievous act that you and the others had planned with the intention of testing his reaction. it was a prank meant to stir up some emotions and see if shikamaru could be nudged out of his usually imperturbable demeanor. your own curiosity had driven you to participate, intrigued by the prospect of seeing the usually unflappable strategist display a hint of jealousy. tilting your head slightly to one side, you allowed a coy smile to surface, a playful glint in your eyes that you hoped would mask your true understanding of the situation. “what stunt? i just gave choji a friendly kiss on the cheek,” you said, the words slipping out with feigned innocence. even as you spoke, you could feel the tightrope of deception you were walking on, knowing full well the motive behind your action.

“yeah, sure,” he said, the sarcasm in his tone sharp and unmistakable. “because kissing someone on the cheek is a completely normal way to be friendly.” His voice dripped with disdain, the sarcasm was heavy, the sort that carried an implicit critique of your attempt to trivialize the situation. his eyes narrowed, a storm of emotions flickering within his gaze.

you could not help but chuckle, a sound that was part amusement, part nervousness. the realization that shikamaru was not fooled by your act was relief and further tension. his reaction was as potent as you had hoped, the jealousy you had intended to provoke now clearly visible in his demeanor. “okay, okay, you caught me,” you admitted with a playful sigh, raising your hands in a gesture of mock surrender. the smirk on your face widened as you leaned slightly forward, your shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. “it was just a prank.”

his expression softened just slightly as he rolled his eyes with exasperation. his arms, still crossed tightly over his chest, seemed to loosen a bit, though the trace of annoyance remained etched on his face. “a prank, huh?” “yeah, a harmless one,” you replied with a playful smile dancing on your lips, trying to diffuse the tension. “sakura, ino, and i thought it’d be funny to see if we could make you jealous.”

a small frown tugged at the corners of his mouth—his gaze, however, remained locked onto you with a level of intensity that suggested he was not entirely dismissing the matter. “and was it funny?” he questioned, it was pointed, as though he was challenging you to justify the prank, to explain whether it had indeed succeeded in its aim of provoking a reaction. you couldn’t help but tease, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “well, it’s a bit entertaining seeing you get all worked up,” you admitted with a grin, “but i didn’t mean to make you feel anything other than jealousy, and i wouldn’t do anything to hurt you intentionally.” the reassurance came with a warm tone, you wanted to ensure that despite the prank’s impact, your intentions had never been to cause genuine harm or distress. “not like it meant anything?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly, “you’re my girlfriend. i don’t appreciate other guys getting close to you like that, even if they’re just friends.” the words came out more forcefully than he probably intended. you raised an eyebrow at his overt display of jealousy, a small, secretive thrill running through you. the fact that your plan had worked was evident in his reaction, and you couldn’t help but take a bit of pleasure in seeing him so visibly affected. “is someone getting a little possessive?” you teased, stepping closer to him with a confident stride. you traced a finger along the collar of his shirt.

his eyes narrowed further at your touch, though a subtle hint of a blush began to creep up his cheeks. he seemed to be fighting a smile, the struggle apparent in the tight line of his lips and the faint flush of color on his face. “i’m just saying, you don’t see me going off and kissing any girls on the cheek, do you?” he retorted, his voice lowering slightly as if he were trying to keep his irritation in check. you laughed, thoroughly enjoying the playful exchange. “well, maybe you should. it’s not like i would get jealous or anything,”

he rolled his eyes, clearly not buying into your facade. “oh, please. you’d be mad as hell if i went around kissing other girls.”

gaara

gaara had always considered himself immune to jealousy or the idea of love itself, believing that such emotions were beyond his reach. that was, until you entered his life, almost as if scripted by fate. your presence stirred feelings within him that he had long thought inaccessible. now, he found himself grappling with an unsettling jealousy when he witnessed you and his brother, kankuro, engaging in playful banter right before him. he made a conscious effort to disregard the lively interactions between you and kankuro, attempting to ignore the way you both teased each other so effortlessly. yet, despite his best efforts, he could not suppress the rising tide of jealousy and possessiveness coursing through him. the sight of you laughing and enjoying yourself in kankuro’s company felt like a painful irritant, no matter how hard he tried to remain indifferent. his fists tightened into clenched knots as he observed you from the periphery of his vision. as kankuro’s teasing continued, gaara's frustration only intensified. he attempted to dismiss his growing irritation, but the heat in his cheeks and the tension in his jaw betrayed his internal struggle. eventually, gaara could no longer tolerate the scene unfolding beside him. the casual, affectionate banter between you and kankuro became unbearable, prompting him to rise from his seat, unable to mask his growing annoyance any longer.

“kankuro, knock it off,” he snapped, his voice taut with irritation. the lively, carefree banter between you and kankuro came to an abrupt halt, and the room fell into a heavy silence. the air was thick with the sudden tension that gaara’s commanding tone had injected. kankuro’s smirk faltered for a split second as he turned his attention to his brother, his expression shifting to one of feigned innocence. “oh, come on, bro. we’re just having a little fun,” kankuro said, his voice oozing with casual nonchalance. you looked up at gaara, your heart thudding in your chest. his reaction was intense, a side of him you hadn’t seen before. his irritation was noticable, and it was evident that he was struggling to mask the emotions simmering beneath the surface. gaara’s jaw tightened, his features hardening as he fixed a steely gaze on kankuro. “cut it out, kankuro. you’re being annoying,” he said, voice devoid of warmth and edged with frustration. the sharpness in his tone cut through the room, making it clear that he was no longer in the mood for light-hearted banter. kankuro raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his face as he leaned back in his seat with exaggerated nonchalance. “oh, am i annoying you, lil bro? it seems like someone’s feeling a bit jealous…” gaara’s irritation flared, his fists clenching into tight, white-knuckled balls. he turned to face kankuro fully, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “i’m not jealous,” he asserted, though the strained quality of his voice betrayed the falsehood in his declaration. kankuro’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on his brother. “oh really? then why are you so worked up? you’re practically vibrating with anger.” his face flushed with ffrustration and embarrassment. he knew kankuro’s words were striking close to the truth, but admitting it felt like a defeat he wasn’t willing to accept. “that’s beside the point!” he snapped, his voice rising in volume. “just stop being such an idiot and leave us alone.” kankuro leaned back even further, crossing his arms and adopting an exaggeratedly thoughtful pose. “‘us? so it’s ‘us’ now?” he noticed the shift in your expression, the slight frown on your lips, and his grin grew wider, clearly reveling in the situation. sensing that the situation was escalating further, kankuro decided to heed gaara’s command. “alright, alright, i get it,” he said, raising his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “my bro’s here is getting a bit too worked up for my taste. i know when i’m not wanted.” with a cheeky grin and a playful wink aimed directly at you, he made his exit, the door closing behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo in the now quiet room. with kankuro gone, the atmosphere in the room felt almost eerily still. the laughter and playful energy that had filled the space were replaced by a heavy, uncomfortable silence. gaara’s gaze remained fixed on the empty space where kankuro had been, his jaw still clenched tightly. after a tense moment of silence, gaara finally turned to face you. “sorry about that,” he muttered, his voice softer than before. he seemed unsure of how to handle the sudden shift in the dynamic between you two. you took a step closer, your eyes filled with concern. you reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm, your touch tender and soothing. “it’s okay, gaara,” you said softly, your voice carrying a warmth meant to reassure him. “i didn’t realize it would bother you so much.” gaara shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, his eyes darting back to you. “i didn’t mean to overreact,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a quieter, more vulnerable tone. “it’s just… i don’t like seeing you so close to someone else. it makes me feel… unsettled.” a small, understanding smile touched your lips as you moved even closer, your hand gently cupping his cheek. “gaara, you don’t have to be jealous. you know i care about you deeply,”

his eyes softened at your reassurance, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “i know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just hard for me sometimes. i haven’t felt like this before, and it’s… new.” you nodded, the vulnerability in his confession resonating deeply with you. “it’s new for me too,” you admitted, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek. “but i want you to know that you’re the one i choose. you’re important to me, and that won’t change.”

[nochepsicodelica]

The door to your shared bedroom creaks open, and Toji is greeted by the sight of you sleeping. It's five in the afternoon and you're bundled up in the covers, soft breaths exiting through your mouth because your nose is congested. You look all cozy, like a hibernating bear, on his side of the bed. It would be a more adorable sight under different circumstances, but this is the product of you catching a cold.

Toji sets the small bag filled with your medicine and other little things he hopes will make you feel better, on his nightstand. He crouches down in front of you and brings a noticeably cooler hand to your heated cheek.

"Hey," Toji calls, gently pinching your cheek. Your hearing must be muffled, because you don't budge and remain in your deep sleep. "Ma," he tries again, shaking you by your shoulder this time. You stir and attempt to roll over in the other direction, towards the center of the bed, but Toji keeps you steady by tugging on the blanket you're cocooned in. "Wake up, mama. Just for a little. I got your stuff. Medicine, snacks— you probably won't be able to taste them, but they're there."

You open your eyes, and simply blink. The room is darker and more shadowy since you went down for your supposed nap. It's been hours, but your body still feels so tired and your head is pulsing.

"How are you feeling?" Toji asks.

You were trying to say "so so", but no sound came out, so it seemed like you were mouthing the words instead. You felt the effort your vocal cords made, but your voice was shot. Nothing is audible unless it's strained. A huff and a roll of your eyes let Toji know how bad of a time you were having.

"Gotcha," Toji responds to your attempt to speak, a soft smile on his face.

He stands up from his crouched position and turns to the bag on his nightstand, rummaging through it to grab the box of medicine at the bottom and your water bottle. He sees you untangling yourself from the covers and sitting up to rest against the headboard, in his peripheral vision. Your hair is messy, some of it is stuck to your forehead from how much you've been sweating, even though you've felt cold the whole time. You can't breathe properly out of your nose, and your throat is sore. Your entire demeanor just screams "sick".

Toji offers you two gel capsules and twists the cap off your bottle of water, before handing it to you as well. You toss the pills into your mouth, and wash them down with a swig of water. In an attempt to clear your nose, you sniff a few times, getting absolutely no change in your ability to breathe through your nose.

"Go back to sleep. I'll get you some soup for when you wake up, 'kay?"

You nod and set your water bottle down on Toji's nightstand, before you slide back down the bed and shift comfortably onto your side. The blanket is wrapped around you, again, and you're ready to shut your eyes. Toji comes closer, crouching down like he did when he woke you up.

"Mm-mm," you hum, the sound cracked and barely audible, a response to Toji leaning in and trying to kiss you.

"Come on, ma. It's been a whole day. Just one. A peck?"

"No," you whisper, only able to communicate verbally in this hushed voice.

"Oh. You want me to have two?" He says, with a playful smirk.

You give him a deadpan expression and shift in the blanket, bringing it up to cover your mouth.

"Okay, fine. Just one."

You shake your head, minimally. Just enough so that you don't shake your brain and make your head hurt even more, and he still gets the message.

"Be nice, mama. Just one, then i'll leave you alone--" he pauses, briefly, "--until I come back with your soup. Then you gotta give me another one. You know, Toji Tax."

You roll your eyes and huff. The Toji Tax is just Toji's way of getting extra loving from you. There's a Toji Tax on just about everything he does for you, so you're not surprised that your sickness doesn't exempt you from it.

Your reaction showed the signs that let Toji know that he's about to get what he wants. The barrier you raised over your mouth is lowered, your involuntary pout now on full display, ready to be kissed whenever Toji's ready.

"Don't look too excited," Toji jests. He chuckles at the gloomy expression on your face. You look absolutely miserable in this state. It's adorable, and while he would love to keep teasing you, he decides to move faster so that you can get your rest.

It starts with a peck—as promised. He's slow with separating his lips from yours, to keep the contact with you going for as long as possible. Then he goes in for another one—just as gentle and delayed in separation. You still haven't done anything to stop him, so he keeps going in for more and more, each kiss more fervent than the last. Within seconds, he's barraging you with quick kisses, back to back, as if to make up for the last twenty-four hours he went without feeling your soft lips against his. He's getting closer, almost climbing into bed with you, so you hum and turn your head. He starts following your movement, like an eager puppy, chasing after more of your kisses.

"Don't care if I get sick, ma."

You hum in disapproval and push his face away when he starts leaning in, again. Quickly, you cover your head with the blanket and roll to the other side of the bed.

Toji sighs, a mischievous smirk lingering on his face. He got way more than he expected, but when it comes to you, he can never have enough. He stands up from the awkward position he got himself into while he chased after your lips, and looks at your bundled up figure, now out of his reach.

"I'll be back, doll. Gonna go get your soup, but remember... Toji Tax."

[iamgonnagetyouback]

tom riddle x wife!reader who is the only one he is submissive in front of

The room was dimly lit, the soft crackling of the fireplace the only sound as you lounged on the chaise, thumbing through a book. Your peaceful evening was disrupted by the unmistakable creak of the front door. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

"Darling, I'm home," Tom called, his voice ever so smooth, but you could sense the slightest tension beneath the calm facade.

"Mm, about time," you replied nonchalantly, flipping a page. "Did you—" You stopped mid-sentence as a rather peculiar scent hit your nose. You furrowed your brows, finally lifting your eyes from the book.

And there it was. Right in the middle of the parlor. A dead body.

"...Is that a dead body?"

Tom, still in his pristine suit, looked down at the lifeless figure as if he hadn't noticed it before. He blinked, then, without missing a beat, turned back to you with an innocent expression. "....Maybe."

You raised an eyebrow, setting your book down. "It is. I can see it right in front of me."

Tom ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, his typical composed demeanor faltering for a split second before he put on his best innocent expression. "I promise I'll clean it up before dinner."

You stood, crossing the room toward him, arms folded. "Really, Tom? We’ve talked about this. You have to stop bringing your work home. I swear, if I find one more corpse in our living room—"

"But he annoyed me!" Tom cut in, sounding almost...defensive? He cleared his throat, as though realizing how ridiculous it was to argue this with you. Lord Voldemort, the most feared wizard in the world, trying to justify his actions to his bossy wife. Merlin, what had he become?

You rolled your eyes. "What happened to a simple Obliviate? You didn’t have to murder him."

"I tried! He resisted—"

"Oh, so naturally you had to Avada Kedavra him. Great logic."

Tom shifted under your stern gaze, and you could almost see the way his mind was racing to explain himself. Yet, the way he followed your every move, the almost sheepish way he avoided your eyes when you got close, said everything. You were the one person who could make him bend. The only one who could command him without uttering a single spell.

“Fine,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll…handle it.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You better. And don’t let it stink up the house, Tom. I want everything spotless before dinner.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, his voice dropping to a tone so soft, you’d never guess he was capable of mass murder. He snapped his fingers, and the body disappeared in an instant.

"Good." You placed a hand on his chest, leaning up to plant a small kiss on his cheek. "Now, was that so hard?"

Tom’s lips twitched as if fighting a smile. He’d never admit it, but he lived for moments like this, where your mere presence made him feel… less like the Dark Lord and more like your husband. “You really are impossible sometimes.”

You gave him a smirk, your hand trailing down his chest. “And yet, here you are— cleaning up your messes like a good husband.”

He huffed softly, pulling you closer. “Only for you.”

“You better. Now,” you said, glancing around the room. “I’m going to finish my book. And if there’s one bloodstain left on that floor—”

Tom sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, a resigned smile finally breaking through his facade. "Yes, dear."

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Online Meeting 🖥

Alexia Putellas x Reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

summary :

Alexia is in the middle of a major online interview when you accidentally walk into the room, having completely forgotten she was busy. Although the camera doesn’t catch you, Alexia’s reaction is caught live.

Alexia was sitting at her desk, her laptop perfectly positioned as she adjusted her headphones one last time. The small study in your shared apartment had been transformed into her mini-interview set, with her Barça trophies and framed jerseys in the background, arranged neatly to give the interview the perfect backdrop. She was poised, as always, every inch the composed professional that everyone expected her to be.

You, on the other hand, had completely forgotten about the interview. It wasn’t until you were halfway through your third cup of coffee, humming to yourself as you cleaned the kitchen, that you realized something seemed… off. There was a lingering quietness that told you Alexia was probably busy. But by the time that thought even crossed your mind, it was already too late. With your usual casualness, you strolled down the hall, lost in your thoughts, and opened the door to the study without knocking.

Alexia had just finished answering a question about her career highlights when her eyes flicked up to meet yours as you stepped into the room. Her reaction was instant, her brown eyes widening slightly, a hint of surprise flashing across her features. Her hand shifted on the desk, almost as if she was trying to keep herself composed. But what gave it away was the tiny, amused smile that tugged at her lips. One she desperately tried to hide as she glanced quickly back at her screen.

You froze, mid-step, realizing your mistake. You had completely forgotten she was in the middle of the live interview, and now you’d just barged in like it was no big deal. Your face flushed instantly, and you mouthed a quick and apologetic, “Sorry!” before backing out of the room as quietly as you could manage.

The camera hadn’t caught you, thankfully, but Alexia’s reaction was all over the screen. Viewers couldn’t see you, but they could see her. And while Alexia was trying her hardest to stay focused on the interviewer’s next question, the damage had already been done. Her usually calm and composed demeanor had cracked, if only for a moment, and her fans weren’t going to miss it.

The next few minutes of the interview went on, but anyone watching could tell Alexia’s mind had wandered. She’d answer the questions with her usual grace, but there was a softness to her expression now, a slight curve to her lips that hadn’t been there before. And, occasionally, she’d glance off-camera for just a second, where she knew you were probably pacing the hall, silently cursing yourself for the interruption.

The interview wrapped up shortly after, and Alexia thanked the interviewer with her usual charm. But as soon as the call ended, she slid off her headphones and called out, “Cariño!”

You appeared in the doorway again, your face flushed, still embarrassed. “I’m so sorry,” you said, rushing over. “I completely forgot! Did I ruin it?”

Alexia chuckled, leaning back in her chair and reaching for your hand to pull you into her lap. “You didn’t ruin anything"

You let a sigh of relief as you leaned into her, resting your head against her shoulder. Alexia kissed your temple softly, clearly amused.

That was a lie, Alexia had noticed the subtle shift in the live chat during the interview. The influx of comments as soon as her reaction was caught on screen. You did definitely ruin the interview, but you didn't need to know or worry your pretty head about it.

*Did anyone else catch that?? Who walked into the room?!*

*OMG Alexia almost broke character. Who was it??*

*She’s so cute when she’s distracted. Someone made her smile, and I need to know who!*

*I've never seen Alexia react like that during an interview. What happened??*

pt. 2 ; pt.3

[caplanbuckybarnes]

A Gotham Affair (Bruce Wayne)

Summary: Bruce marries you in front of Gotham's finest.

Warnings: fluff

WC: 950ish

Read on Ao3!

--

Gotham City had seen its fair share of lavish events, but nothing compared to this. The press had been buzzing for weeks—Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s elusive billionaire, was getting married. For a man as private as Bruce, the mere thought of such a public display was almost unimaginable. But he wanted this moment to be seen, to be shared with the world.

Because today, he was marrying you.

The Wayne Manor grounds had been transformed into a scene straight out of a fairy tale. Rows of white chairs lined the lush garden, surrounded by flowers, twinkling lights, and the glow of the setting sun. Gotham’s elite filled the seats, all murmuring with excitement and curiosity, but none could match the nervous flutter in your chest.

You stood just beyond the manor’s grand doors, your fingers gently smoothing the delicate fabric of your dress as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. You could hear the soft murmur of the guests outside, the soft clinks of champagne glasses, the hum of an orchestra playing in the background. It felt surreal—like you were dreaming.

But this wasn’t a dream. This was real.

Alfred stood beside you, his usual composed demeanor holding a softness reserved for only the most important moments. “You look radiant, miss,” he said with a gentle smile. “Master Wayne is a very lucky man.”

You smiled at him, your heart pounding with anticipation. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

Alfred’s eyes twinkled with quiet understanding. “You’ve both found something special in each other. It’s not every day that Master Wayne allows himself a moment of true happiness.”

Just then, the music shifted, signaling the start of the ceremony. Alfred offered his arm, and you took it with a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. As the doors opened, revealing the breathtaking garden and all the guests in attendance, your eyes immediately sought out the man at the end of the aisle.

Bruce.

He stood tall, dressed in a classic black tuxedo that seemed to fit him as effortlessly as the Batman cowl. But it wasn’t the suit that took your breath away—it was the look on his face. His normally stoic expression had softened, his eyes fixed solely on you, and for once, there was no mask. No walls. Just Bruce.

The world around you faded as you began your walk down the aisle. You could barely hear the gasps and murmurs from the guests, the flashing cameras, the whispers of disbelief that Bruce Wayne—the Bruce Wayne—was getting married. It didn’t matter. All you saw was him.

As you reached the end of the aisle, Bruce stepped forward, his hand reaching for yours. You felt the warmth of his touch, the steady reassurance he always gave you. You handed Alfred the bouquet and turned fully to Bruce, the weight of the moment finally settling into place.

“You look stunning,” he whispered, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“And you look… unexpectedly calm,” you teased, smiling up at him.

He gave you a small smirk, one that you knew all too well. “For you, I’ll do anything. Even this.”

The officiant began to speak, but your attention was fully on Bruce. You could see the faint tension in his shoulders, the way he held your hand just a little tighter than usual. For someone who valued his privacy more than anything, standing here in front of Gotham’s elite, making such a public declaration—it wasn’t easy for him. But he was doing it for you.

Because he loved you.

When it came time for the vows, Bruce took a deep breath, turning fully toward you. His voice, though steady, was laced with an emotion he rarely showed to anyone but you.

“I never thought I’d find peace, not in a city like Gotham. But you…” he paused, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You brought light into a life that’s been filled with shadows. You’ve seen the darkest parts of me, and yet, here you are. I vow to protect you, to stand by you, and to love you with everything I have, for as long as I’m able.”

You blinked back tears, your heart swelling with love as you whispered, “Bruce…”

“I’ve always had to wear masks,” he continued, his voice soft. “But with you, I don’t need one. You know me—all of me. And today, in front of everyone, I want them to know too. You are my greatest joy. My home.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you took a shaky breath, squeezing his hand. “Bruce, you’ve given me so much more than I ever thought possible. You’ve shown me love, patience, and a strength that I didn’t know I had. You are the man I want to stand beside, not just in the good moments, but through every challenge, every obstacle. I vow to love you with everything I am. Always.”

The officiant pronounced you husband and wife, and in that moment, all of Gotham faded into the background. Bruce leaned in, cupping your face gently in his hands, and kissed you softly. The crowd erupted in applause, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his lips against yours, the way his hand lingered on your cheek as if he never wanted to let you go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “We did it.”

You smiled, tears of happiness slipping down your cheeks. “We did.”

As you turned to face the crowd, still hand-in-hand, the cameras flashed, and the world watched as Bruce Wayne—Gotham’s most guarded man—stood proudly beside the person who had stolen his heart.

[librababe99]

Echoes of Her

A/N: Nothing like a little angst to start everyones day! As always comments and feedback are appreciated--My asks are open as well! I hope everyone enjoys - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ Summary: Caught in a painful love triangle with Logan and Jean Grey, the reader confronts Logan about their unspoken connection... Warnings: Angst, Hurt without comfort, love triangle  Word Count: 1146 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · ·

The silence in the mansion's corridors was thick, the kind that presses against your chest, making it hard to breathe. Every step you took echoed off the cold, marble floors as you made your way to the training room. It was late—too late for anyone else to be awake—but you knew he'd be there. He always was when the weight of the world became too much to bear.

You paused outside the door, your hand hovering just above the handle. A part of you didn't want to go in. You already knew what you'd find—Logan, shirtless and sweating, his muscles rippling as he pushed himself far beyond what was necessary. He didn't need to train, not really. You both knew that. It was his way of escaping the thoughts that clawed at him, the memories that refused to stay buried.

And you knew why he was there tonight.

Jean.

The name alone sent a sharp pang through your heart. You weren't naive. You saw the way Logan looked at her, the way his eyes softened, his gruff demeanor shifting whenever she was around. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke louder than any confession ever could. He loved her—he loved her in a way that was primal, consuming. But Jean… Jean was with Scott.

You weren't sure where you fit into all of this. You and Logan had a connection, something raw and unspoken. But it was hard to define what that was when his heart was so clearly caught between two worlds—between you and the woman he could never truly have.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the small lamp in the corner. Logan was there, just as you knew he'd be. His back was to you, the muscles of his shoulders and arms flexing as he pounded his fists into the punching bag.

"Logan," you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't stop, didn't even acknowledge you. His focus was singular, every punch carrying the weight of his frustrations. You walked closer, each step feeling like a mile, until you were standing just a few feet behind him.

"Logan, please," you tried again, your voice trembling.

This time, he paused, his hands dropping to his sides. Slowly, he turned to face you, and your heart clenched at the sight of his face—those deep-set eyes, filled with pain and something else you couldn't quite place.

"Why are you here, kid?" he asked, his voice rough and tired.

You winced at the nickname, one he'd given you long ago when you'd first joined the X-Men. Back then, it had been endearing, a sign of the bond you were building. But now… now it felt like a reminder of the distance between you.

"I could ask you the same thing," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Logan huffed, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Needed to clear my head."

You nodded, though you both knew it was more than that. "I thought maybe… maybe you needed someone to talk to."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, you saw the walls he'd built up around himself start to crumble. But just as quickly, they were back in place, his expression hardening.

"There's nothing to talk about," he said gruffly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Logan… you don't have to pretend with me. I know you're hurting."

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he looked away. "And what do you want me to say, huh? That you're right? That I can't get her outta my head? That every time I see her with him, it feels like a goddamn knife in my chest?"

Your breath caught in your throat, the raw honesty in his words cutting through you like a blade. But it wasn't just his pain that hurt—it was the realization that you were a part of it. That maybe, just maybe, you were only a distraction, something to keep him from drowning in his feelings for Jean.

"I don't want to be your second choice," you whispered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

Logan's eyes snapped back to you, surprise flickering in their depths. "You're not—"

"Aren't I?" you interrupted, your voice trembling. "Because that's what it feels like. Every time you're with me, it's like you're trying to forget about her. But I can't—Logan, I can't be that person for you. I can't keep pretending that this doesn't hurt."

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, but you pulled away, the distance between you growing. The look of hurt that flashed across his face was almost enough to make you reconsider, but you held your ground.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "I know you are. But sorry doesn't change anything, does it?"

Logan's shoulders slumped, the weight of your words crashing down on him. "I never meant to hurt you."

"But you did," you replied, your voice breaking. "And I don't know if I can keep doing this. I can't keep being in love with you when you're in love with her."

The silence that followed was deafening, the air between you thick with unspoken words. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle he was fighting within himself. But you knew—deep down, you knew—he wasn't going to choose you. Not really.

"I don't want to lose you," he finally said, his voice raw with emotion.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself. "You already have."

The words hung in the air, a finality to them that neither of you could ignore. And as you turned to leave, you felt a part of your heart break, knowing that this was the end of whatever it was you and Logan had.

You walked out of the room, each step heavier than the last, the distance between you and Logan growing with every second. You didn't look back—you couldn't. Because if you did, you knew you'd crumble. You knew you'd run back to him, and you couldn't allow yourself to do that.

As you reached the end of the hallway, you paused, your hand resting on the wall for support. The tears you'd been holding back finally spilled over, and you let them fall, each one a release of the pain you'd been carrying for so long.

But even through the tears, you knew one thing: you deserved more than being second best. And as much as it hurt to walk away from Logan, you knew it was the only way to heal.

The only way to find yourself again.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

Part two

[yoonavii]

⌕ ʀᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴀᴘ

⤿ ᴍɪʜᴀᴡᴋ

Mihawk, known for his stoic demeanor, would initially be surprised by your intimate gesture. His eyes might widen slightly, not expecting such closeness.

Instead of pulling away, Mihawk would likely offer a measured response. He might give a subtle, approving nod or a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

Even with your head on his lap, Mihawk would maintain his composed and calm exterior. His ability to keep a collected demeanor is a testament to his control over his emotions.

While he may not express it openly, Mihawk would subtly adopt a protective stance. His posture might adjust ever so slightly, showing a subtle shift in his attentiveness.

Mihawk is a man of few words, but his actions speak volumes. Resting your head on his lap would be met with a silent appreciation for the trust and comfort you’re expressing.

Don’t be surprised if he  places a hand lightly on your shoulder or runs his fingers through your hair. It’s a silent acknowledgment and a way of reciprocating the gesture.

The two of you might fall into a comfortable silence. Mihawk, not one to engage in unnecessary chatter, would appreciate the tranquility of the moment.

Whether he’s reading, observing the sea, or contemplating, Mihawk’s focus would remain unwavering even with your head on his lap. His ability to multitask is part of his impressive skill set.

Expect occasional, subtle gestures that convey affection. It could be a rare, soft smile or a gentle squeeze of your hand—small acts that reveal Mihawk’s emotions in a reserved manner.

If he allows your head to rest on his lap for an extended period, it’s a sign that he finds comfort in your presence. Mihawk values the tranquility you bring into his usually solitary world.

⤿ ꜱᴀʙᴏ

Sabo would likely be initially surprised by your gesture. He might blink or look down at you with a questioning expression, not expecting such closeness.

Once the surprise fades, Sabo would break into a gentle smile. He appreciates the intimacy and sees it as a sweet and trusting gesture.

He might subtly adjust his position to make you more comfortable. He wants you to feel at ease and relaxed in his presence.

Unlike Mihawk, Sabo is more inclined to engage in conversation. He might start a light, easygoing chat, ensuring you feel at ease while resting your head on his lap.

Sabo, being protective of those he cares about, would adopt a subtle protective stance. It’s not overbearing, but a comforting assurance that he’s there for you.

You might feel him running his fingers through your hair or gently stroking your cheek. These small, affectionate gestures convey his warmth and care.

If you share a lighthearted moment or a joke, Sabo’s laughter would be genuine and contagious. He enjoys the simple joys of being close to someone he cares about.

He might offer encouraging words, expressing his support and appreciation for your trust. He wants you to know that he’s there for you in moments of vulnerability.

Sabo would create a relaxed atmosphere around you, making it clear that you can be yourself without judgment. He values your comfort and wants you to feel safe.

If he allows you to rest your head on his lap for an extended period, it’s a sign that he enjoys the connection and closeness. He appreciates the bond you share and the trust you place in him.

©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

[wooattackrr]

study session

MDNI

Synopsis: student!reader comes over the study with her best friend, but comes in contact with her older brother mingyu instead

a/n: this has been in the drafts for like a week and it’s still not proofread…

——————————————————————

The late afternoon sun poured through the trees outside, casting playful shadows on the sidewalk as you made your way to your best friend’s house. Your heart raced with anticipation; studying for upcoming exams could be tedious, but at least you had your best friend, Mina, by your side to help make the time more enjoyable. You pushed open the gate, its creaky hinges announcing your arrival. You had been here countless times before, but today felt different.

You knocked gently on the door, noting the way your palms slightly dampened with sweat. Being shy made moments like these even more nerve-wracking; you had always struggled to make your presence felt around others, even those you were close to.

After a few moments, when there was still no answer, you checked your phone. As expected, there was a message from Mina. "Running a little late! Can you let yourself in?" You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob, pushing the door open and stepping into the familiar warmth of her home.

“Hello?” you called out, but the sounds of the house were drowned by the low hum of the refrigerator and the faint chirping of birds outside. You were met with a silence that felt almost oppressive. You slipped off your shoes and wandered into the living room, glancing at the clock. You still had some time before Mina arrived. With a small sigh, you decided to gather your books and materials from your bag to settle in for what would likely be a long study session.

As you organized your things on the coffee table, a light shuffle of footsteps echoed down the hallway before a tall figure stepped into view.

“Mingyu?” you blurted out, surprised.

Mingyu, Mina’s older brother, stood before you like a vision: tousled dark hair framing his handsome face, his fit physique accentuated by a loose T-shirt and jogger pants. He blinked at you, an amused smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

You stammered, “M-Mina said she’d be late, so I came to study.” Your cheeks heated as you noticed how his gaze lingered on your face.

His expression shifted to one of understanding, “Ah, okay. Well, if you need anything, just let me know. I’m just about to head to the kitchen to grab a snack.” He turned to walk away, and you felt a flutter in your stomach. His casual demeanor was enough to make you both nervous and excited at the same time.

“I—uh—do you want some help?” you offered, surprising even yourself with the invitation. The words spilled from your lips before you could think about the implications.

He paused and turned to face you fully. “Sure, if you want to help! I could always use an extra set of hands.” His grin widened, and your heart raced.

As you followed him into the kitchen, you couldn’t shake the feeling of exhilaration mixed with anxiety. You watched as he rummaged through the pantry, pulling out a bag of chips. “You want some?” he asked, holding the bag up.

“Um, yeah, sure.” You took a chip, feeling the heat of his body so close to yours. You stood by the counter, unsure of where to look. The tension in the air was palpable, and each passing second felt like an eternity.

Mingyu leaned casually against the counter, his arm brushing against yours, sending shivers down your spine. “So how’s studying going for you? I’ve heard it’s pretty intense this time of year.”

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Y-Yeah, it’s been… tough. I’m really trying to get good grades.” You couldn’t help but feel a bit flustered under his gaze. He looked at you with curiosity, as if you were something more interesting than the bag of chips between you.

“I get that. School can be rough. But you’ve got this,” he encouraged, his tone sincere. Hearing him speak to you that way made your heart flutter even more. Maybe Mingyu wasn’t just Mina’s brother; he was genuinely kind—a trait not often seen, especially in college boys.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you managed to say, rubbing your arms anxiously.

After a few more moments of small talk, the initial awkwardness melted away slightly as you found a rhythm in conversation. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something electric in the air, a tension that both thrilled and terrified you.

“I should probably get back to studying,” you finally said, your voice wavering with uncertainty.

He nodded, “Yeah, I should probably let you focus. I’m going to head back to my room and work on a few things too.” As he spoke, a sudden idea lit up in your mind—a bold impulse that you couldn’t ignore.

“Wait, Mingyu…” you stopped him before he could walk away completely, “Do you want to study with me? I mean, if you have time. We could… help each other?”

His brows rose in surprise, and for a moment, you thought he might decline. But then, his lips curled into a smirk. “You know what? That sounds great. I could use a distraction anyway.” He stepped back into the living room with you, and your heart leaped.

Settling back on the couch, you spread your materials across the coffee table. Mingyu sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. You grabbed your textbook and began flipping through the pages, but it was hard to focus with the intoxicating presence sitting beside you.

“Alright, what do you want to start with?” He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. You could hardly concentrate on the questions in front of you.

You took a deep breath, your voice steadying slightly. “Let’s start with math. I could use some help with these equations.”

As you worked together, laughter filled the room. Mingyu had a talent for turning complicated formulas into something more approachable. His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon you found yourself smiling and engaging him more than you had anticipated.

Time slipped by as you dived into the material, the way he explained things making everything seem so easy. However, with each passing moment, you couldn’t help but notice his occasional sideways glance, a spark of mischief in his eye.

“Okay, next question…” You squinted at the paper, trying to keep your focus but feeling dizzy under his gaze.

“I think you're overthinking it,” he said suddenly, causing you to look up. “Just trust yourself.”

His voice was encouraging, sending warmth flooding through you. You let out a nervous chuckle, “Easier said than done, right?”

“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?” He leaned just a bit closer, an intensity in his gaze that made your heart race. “Just look at the problem simply.”

You swallowed, the tension between you becoming unbearable. With a quick glance at him, you realized that you couldn’t ignore the charge in the air; it was intoxicating, and your body reacted with a surprising want that you never expected to feel sitting next to your friend’s brother.

Mingyu’s eyes flickered to your lips, and suddenly the space between you felt impossibly small. You could feel your cheeks heating again, and your breath quickened, but still, a part of you couldn’t look away.

The tension in the room grew thicker as you both succumbed to the heat building between you. Mingyu's kiss grew more urgent, his hands moving with purpose, unbuttoning your shirt one button at a time. His touch sent shivers down your spine, making you forget about the outside world.

The coolness of the fabric against your skin was a stark contrast to the warmth of his palms as they explored your body. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as his hands reached your waist, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

Mingyu's eyes searched yours for permission, and you nodded, too lost in the moment to speak. With a smoldering look, he tugged your jeans down, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. Your heart hammered in your chest as he trailed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

The sound of the front door opening sent a jolt of panic through your body. You froze, your eyes wide with shock as the door creaked open.

“no fucking way…”

——————————————————————

x o o o o o o

[carlsangel]

YOU’RE WHINING

carl grimes x reader

(carls whining gets irritating.)

tags: oral sex (m!receiving), needy carl :P

masterlist here!

Carl was never really one to pry for things. He really did love taking care of you whenever he had the chance, he enjoyed the traditional ways of handling your relationship. He would love to hold doors open for you, let you enter places first (unless dangerous), cooking for you, or even when it came to your intimate relationship.

Most of the time, he did what he could to pleasure you. Whatever position allowed you to feel best, he did it for you. He also made sure you finished first every time. Not to mention he loves going down on you, not just because it pleasured you but he just absolutely adores it. Anyway, the first time you’d done something for him, he realized how nice it was to be to one receiving the head.

You didn’t realize how needy he could get before then. That man is vocal. The first time he let you give him head was when you guys were insanely bored while no one was home.

It’s a good thing no one was home as he practically couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Anyway since then he’s been begging for it again. Unfortunately there was never really a right time. You were always on runs and even then you were always having some sort of trouble whether it was walkers, issues with the car, even people. It all got worse when you were assigned on different jobs for a week. Aaron had found a new horse and you were put the task of breaking it. Meanwhile, Carl had perimeter watch.

After a long and frustrating day with the new horse, you pull her into a newly built stable to brush her down n such. Despite your struggles in breaking her, she was beautiful, you had to admit. You were just about done before you heard footsteps approaching, so you turn around to be greeted by the sight of Carl. He said he’d come meet you after his shift.

“Hey.” You smile and he almost swoons completely. He greets you back with a small hello and a kiss on the cheek before giving his attention to the horse in front of you. He stroked her for a moment before looking back at you, admiring how you looked. He wanted you to suck him off so bad, he was practically yearning for it. He felt this feeling in his throat, almost like a moan, but not. You look back over to him and look at him sort of oddly, wondering what the expression on his face was about.

“You okay?” You ask, sort of setting him off. Then he lets out a noise, one that sort of baffles you before he started rambling. “Please, I really need it can you-” His breath is heavy and he pulls his hat off to cover his crotch where you can assume there’s a tent in his jeans. Your eyes widen and you’re not quite sure how to respond. “Jesus, Carl you’re whining.” You state, completely taken aback by his demeanor.

“I know m’really sorry but I…I really need you to go down on me I’m begging here.” He takes a step closer to you and takes your hand in his, holding it real tight because he is, in fact, begging. “Just behind the stable, no one will see.” He pleads.

Well…how can you say no to that?

Soon after, you’re kneeling down in front of him in the grass between the large steel wall (of Alexandria) and the wood of the stables. He was right, no one would see you there but they could definitely hear you so you warn him. “You’re gonna need to be quiet.” You start to work on getting his belt off and he nods, his breath getting heavier the longer he sees you on your knees in front of him.

As you work on his belt, you decide to tease him a little because, why not? So you press kisses to his (very hard by the way) dick through his jeans, causing him to moan already. You haven’t even gotten to the real thing. “I told you baby you gotta be quiet.” You smile up at him and he looks down at you so frustrated. Frustrated because you’re teasing him and you know how long he’s been wanting this. Except, that only makes it hotter for him.

You finally get his belt unbuckled and you unbutton his jeans. You tug them down, along with his underwear, just to see how needy he really was. He was rock hard, he couldn’t help it with the way you looked when he walked into the stable, your hair a mess, tired eyes and sweaty. It got him really, really aroused. You take a hold of his length which draws a sharp hiss from his mouth.

Just looking up at him like the way you were prompted him to leak a little which you very clearly took notice considering you took that as a go ahead to take him in your mouth. “Oh god-” His arms were practically nailed to the wood behind him and you continued to take him, sliding his cock in and out of your mouth repeatedly, your saliva building up and following each movement of your mouth. Your other hand goes to the base of his cock and it sort of lingers there, your fingers gently massaging. It was taking everything in him to not rut his hips into your mouth.

“I can’t..” His hands now go to your hair where he gently tries to steady himself but he seriously can’t take it. The wet noises coming from your mouth as you still won’t stop. “Please baby I’m close.” He moans, prompting you to pull back a moment, pulling a whine from him as well. You still slowly twist your hand around his dick while you look up at him, admiring him and how gorgeous he looks. His bottom lip is red from biting it so hard trying to keep quiet, but his mouth is agape and he’s breathing so hard. Meanwhile his eyes are half lidded and he just looks so fucked out.

“Is this what you wanted?” You giggle and swirl your tongue around his tip, prodding your tongue into the slit of it. All the air leaves his body and eyes roll into the back of his head. He moans so fucking loud, your eyes widen at his volume. “If you don’t close your mouth I will stop.” You laugh and he nods, taking in a deep breath to get ready for you to start again.

“Good?” He looks down and nods yes. “Yeah, good.” So you start again, moving your hand with your mouth too, spreading the saliva down to cover him with it completely. You go back to bobbing your head at a steady pace, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth. Carl resorted to just letting out soft groans, quiet enough for just the two of you to hear.

Soon enough, he was close again and this time you wouldn’t stop. You’d move quicker, taking more and more of him into your throat while he pushed your hair back out of your face. “M’gonna cum please don’t stop-” He speaks breathlessly and you comply, not stopping until he grips the back of your head still against him while the warm liquid spills down your throat. Once every drop is out of him, he lets go of your head and you pull away, doing everything you can to make it look somewhat attractive. A string of saliva follows your mouth from his dick.

You wipe your mouth with your sleeve and he gets himself back situated in his jeans. All he wants to do at this point is love on you. You treated him so well. He pulls you into a hug, leaning back against the stable wall while he kisses you all over your face.

“That good?”

“No that was incredible.”

a/n: so let’s talk about this LMFAOOOO LISTEN!!! i got this request and started writing it right after T-T and then finished it an hour after it was requested. where did that motivation come from? no idea. but also this made me realize i have never posted a fic where the reader gives him a blow job so…that might be why?

anyway this was very impromptu, match ups done soon blah blah ghost in the woods blah blah

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

[vanteguccir]

you do not know how bad i need either tooth rotting fluff or sunshine x grumpie of matt from you🤯 the last time you wrote one of my requests i literally went feral for it… i will literally give you a kiss and call you mommy😘😘 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

- sincerely,

matti.

then you can start calling me mommy bc here it goes your sunshine x grumpy 🤭😚

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb with grumpy!matt who has a soft spot for you

　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x sunshine!reader

The house was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner in the living room, a soft symphony to the lazy Sunday afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting gentle stripes on the hardwood floor, adding to the cozy atmosphere. Y/N hummed a cheerful tune as she flitted around the living room, picking up scattered dishes and fluffing the pillows on the couch.

Matt was sprawled on the sofa, pretending to watch whatever it was that the television was showing, arms crossed, his usual grumpy expression firmly in place. His tousled hair and the slight pout on his lips made him look even more endearing, though he would vehemently deny it. He watched Y/N with a mixture of amusement and impatience, his eyes tracking her every movement.

"You gonna lay with me already or not?" Matt grumbled, his voice low and gravelly. He rolled his eyes dramatically, trying to maintain his tough exterior. Y/N turned to him, a bright smile spreading across her face, and her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Matt, you don't have to ask so nicely." She teased, setting down the book she had left at the kitchen table in the day before. She crossed the room in a few light steps and plopped down beside him, her warmth instantly seeping into his side.

Matt huffed, trying to appear annoyed, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer until her head rested on his chest.

"Yeah, well, you took long enough." He muttered, but his voice softened as he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her familiar scent.

Y/N snuggled into him, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

"You love cuddles, you big baby." She said with a knowing smile, her voice a gentle murmur.

"Whatever." Matt replied, his tone gruff. "It's not like it's the highlight of my day or anything." But even as he spoke, he tightened his grip on her, holding her as if she might slip away.

She giggled, her laughter a sweet melody that always managed to soothe his grumpy demeanor.

"You know, you can drop the macho act. I know you're just a big marshmallow."

Matt scoffed, but the sound lacked conviction.

"Sure, sure. Just don't go telling anyone, okay?" His fingers began to play with her hair absentmindedly, a small smile finally breaking through his facade.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being their breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric as they shifted. Y/N could feel the steady beat of Matt's heart under her ear, a reassuring rhythm that lulled her into a state of contentment.

After a few moments, she shifted slightly, preparing to get up, her stomach begging for some snack. But as soon as she moved, Matt's grip tightened around her.

"Hey! The hell are you goin'?" He demanded, his voice rising a notch.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with amusement and surprise.

"I was just going to get something for us to eat, baby."

"No, you're not." Matt said stubbornly. "You're staying right here."

She chuckled, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"Alright, alright. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." He mumbled, his grumpy facade slipping away entirely. He nestled his chin on top of her head, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to relax completely in her embrace.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. Matt might be grumpy on the outside, but she knew the truth. He was her big, cuddly marshmallow, and she wouldn't have him any other way.