#maybe this one will have an all-around happier note
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₊˚⊹ ᰔ happier²,
summary. sam's been in love with you for far too long for it to still be a secret!
pairing. sam winchester x reader ft. dean winchester ; angsty!
wordcount. 1051
notes. @hauntedrose555 @mostlymarvelgirl @daryls-luvrr ya'll encouraged this nonsense. don't come after me for writing this 😳
⋆.˚ ★— read part 1
Dean isn't looking for trouble. Really. And he doesn't mean to snoop. He just wants the damn book. It’s gotta be somewhere in the bunker.
The three of you had been going through lore all week for this case, and Dean swears he saw Sam with it last. So, when he finds himself in front of Sam’s half-open bedroom door, he doesn’t think twice before stepping inside.
His eyes skim over the desk first, scanning through the mess of papers and thick books. No luck. Huffing, he crouches to check the floor. Nothing. Then he spots it, half-buried under a stack of old notes—faded leather binding, gold lettering along the spine.
Bingo.
But as Dean grabs the book, his fingers brush against something else. A journal. Sam’s journal.
He doesn’t mean to look. He shouldn’t. He knows that. But the damn thing is open, and his name—your name—catches his eye.
Dean tells himself it’s just for a second. Just one glance. But the words jump out at him like a punch to the gut.
"She would be so much happier with me."
His stomach drops.
“What the hell?” he mutters under his breath, flipping back a page, then another. It’s all there. The lingering looks. The inside jokes. The little moments that Sam thinks mean something more. Pages filled with words Dean doesn’t want to read, because they confirm what his gut has been telling him for a while now.
Sam’s in love with you.
A sharp exhale sounds from the doorway.
“The hell are you doing?”
Dean looks up to find Sam standing there, shoulders tense, expression instantly guarded as he sees his journal in Dean’s hands.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Dean drawls, flipping the book shut. His jaw clenches. “Maybe just finding out my brother’s been in love with my girlfriend behind my back.”
Sam’s face darkens. “Give me that.”
Dean tosses the journal onto the desk, standing up. “I don’t need to read more, Sammy. That one sentence told me everything.” He lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ. How long?”
Sam’s lips press into a thin line. “Dean—”
“How. Long.”
Sam’s nostrils flare as he exhales. “It doesn’t matter.”
Dean scoffs, stepping closer. “Doesn’t matter? Doesn’t matter? You don’t think it matters that my own brother’s been sneaking around behind my back, watching my girl like—”
“I haven’t done anything,” Sam cuts in, his voice sharp. “You’re acting like I betrayed you, but I haven’t.”
Dean lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh, so I should be grateful? You’ve just been sitting on this, what, for months? Years? Jesus, Sam.”
Sam’s jaw tightens, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “You had no right to read my journal.”
Dean lets out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Oh, that’s rich. That’s what you’re focusing on? I invaded your privacy? I had all rights!” He shakes his head, stepping closer. “You know what, maybe if you weren’t writing about how my girlfriend should be with you, I wouldn’t have had to find out this way.”
“You shouldn’t have found out at all,” Sam snaps, voice low, dangerous.
Dean freezes.
And then it clicks.
“You weren’t gonna say a damn thing, were you?” Dean’s voice drops, something cold settling in his chest. “You were just gonna sit on this forever. Hope one day she woke up and realized she was in the wrong bed?”
Sam doesn’t answer.
That’s all the confirmation Dean needs.
Something ugly twists in his chest. He’s so caught up in it that he doesn’t hear the footsteps in the hall. Doesn’t realize you’re there until—
“What’s going on?”
Both of them snap their heads toward you.
You stand frozen in the doorway, brows furrowed in confusion. The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on.
Dean glances at Sam, expecting him to fold, to back off now that you’re here. But Sam doesn’t. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight, his eyes—
His eyes are already on you.
Something inside Dean cracks.
“Dean?” you try again, stepping forward slightly. “What’s happening?”
Dean lets out a slow breath, eyes flicking between you and his brother. He should lie. Brush it off. Keep the peace.
But he can’t.
“Ask Sam,” he says flatly. “Seems like he’s got a lot on his mind.”
Your brows pull together in confusion, gaze shifting to Sam. He hesitates, but then Dean sees it—the moment he decides to just go for it.
“I love you,” Sam blurts out.
The silence is deafening.
Your lips part slightly, eyes going wide. “What?”
Dean stares at Sam like he’s lost his mind. “Jesus Christ, dude.”
“I love you,” Sam says again, firmer this time, gaze locked on you. “I have for a long time.”
Dean runs a hand down his face, letting out a sharp breath. “Son of a bitch.”
You’re still frozen, staring at Sam like he’s just shattered the ground beneath you. “Sam, I—”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Sam continues, his voice raw, desperate. “But Dean found out, and now—” He swallows hard. “Now I can’t just keep pretending.”
Dean steps forward, his voice low and heated. “You can’t?” His lips curl in something that isn’t quite a smirk. “Let me get this straight, Sammy. You’ve been in love with my girl—my girl—for who knows how long, and now that you got caught, you think you get to lay it all out there? What, you think she’s just gonna drop everything and run into your arms?”
Sam’s expression hardens. “That’s not—”
“Because she’s with me,” Dean bites out. “She chose me.”
Sam’s breathing is heavy, his hands curled into fists at his sides. He doesn’t look at Dean. He only looks at you.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “She did.”
And then he walks out.
You’re left standing there, stunned into silence.
Dean’s chest rises and falls, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He glances at you, his heart hammering against his ribs.
“Are you—” He exhales sharply. “Are you in love with him?”
Your lips part, but no sound comes out.
Dean swallows hard. “Jesus,” he mutters, raking a hand through his hair. He shakes his head, lets out a bitter chuckle, and then turns to leave.
And just like that, you’re alone.
want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @funkenniffler
#sam winchester#dean winchester#sam winchester x reader#dean winchester x reader#sam winchester x you#dean winchester x you#sam winchester angst#dean winchester angst#sam winchester fic#dean winchester fic#supernatural#.docx
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Furina: Anyone I've ever worked with probably couldn't wait to get rid of me... Since I'm just an ordinary person now. They'll probably just laugh in my face if I go asking them for help... :(
Neuvillette, the second Furina asks him about booking the Opera Epiclese, the process for which is notably cumbersome and complex: Yes, I will take care of it immediately. Btw does this mean you will allow audiences (myself included) to enjoy your outstanding acting talents once more? 🥺
#furina#neuvillette#genshin 4.2 spoilers#genshin spoilers#genshin 4.2#genshin impact#he is so horrendously pathetically down bad for her#i want to put clown make-up on him and beat him up in a parking lot#MY MAN#YOU ARE ONE STEP AWAY FROM SERENADING AT HER WINDOW#so yeah i played furina's story quest#her 1st story quest was kinda depressing#but also hopeful#we still have her presumed 2nd story quest for the 2nd weekly boss of Fontaine#maybe this one will have an all-around happier note#building on the hopeful end of her 1st one#i just want furina to be happy :')#focallette#neuvifuri
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Doing this because it makes me happy •Ꮂ•. Im making it difficult on all of you though.
1 note- I'll go drink water
10 notes - I'll set alarms to actually care for myself
50 notes - set up a daily productivity system so I stop wasting my time doing nothing.
100 notes - ask my friends to help me buy a skirt
500 notes - get a bra & a whole bunch of other affirming clothing !!!
1k - tell my dad that my gf is also trans
2.5k - ask my dad to address me by my prefferred name & pronouns 1k went pretty poorly, so I dont feel super comfortable making an attempt on this.
5k - try to get therapy/psychologist
10k - girl mode at all times (start actively wearing makeup/clothing/doing voice training around people at all times)
50k - try for HRT (0% chance) (also no guarantee on this one)
Asfgg. It feels surprisingly good to have a bunch of strangers who want me to be happy
I have now set up alarms for eating, waking up, and hygene related stuff. I seriously doubt we get to 500, but this has made me significantly happier •Ꮂ•
Doing some math... 25 notes in 4 hours. 6.25 notes per hour. 8000 hours or 333 days until this hits 50k. Hrt in a year ig.
Um. Wow. Its been a day, and we're almost at 300. Everything 500 & below was supposed to be things I'd do with minimal intervention. But now, we're getting to the scarier stuff. I am very intimidated, but also excited
My gf really badly wanted to be here when I buy some of the clothing, so the skirt will be this week, the rest of the clothing will be when she comes back from vacation
Saying that you're force femming me is so not allowed. This is unfair. You have no right to make me feel the ways Im feelingggg. Stop making me happy.
Welp. I told him about my girlfriend. And things went about as poorly as expected. He said that Im parroting what other people think. Slowly taking little parts of them, and applying them to myself. Specifically, being trans. He didnt even leave it to maybes. He said with certainty that I was copying everyone else. I know 9 trans people total. Only 2 of them are my close friends. Everyone else, Im barely aquaintences with. I should have told him that regardless of whatever theories he has, this has boosted my confidence massively. Slightly less excited for 2.5k notes. At least everything after that is very positive. And at least this lets me talk about my girlfriend for ages. I dont have to say her deadname through gritted teeth. Oh context. He already knows Im trans but was ignoring it.
I GOT A SKIRT!!!!!
Thank all of you so much. At first when I got the skirt, I was pretty intimidated by the idea of showing my legs. I thought everyone will just see me as a man. But there's a degree of confidence you all have given me. Yeah. Im pretty. Yeah, Im beautiful even. Yeah. Its a friggin fantastic skirt. And anyone who thinks otherwise is dumb. Im happy, and thats what matters.
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LOTUS FLOWER. pt one.
— featuring ┊ genshin men (neuvillette, wriothesley, lyney, kaveh, alhaitham) x f!pregnant reader
— warnings / content warnings ┊nsfw. not proofread. all consensual! mentions of breeding k!nk, t!tplay (neuvillette), vaginal fingering (lyney?), implied semi-public s3x (wriothesley), s!ze kink if u squint (alhaitham), dirty talk obvi, them being absolute sweethearts, reader implied 2 be physically smaller than them, cunnilingus (kaveh), nicknames used, overall suggestive content. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
— a/n ┊ this is part one guys!! part two will come soon! since i’m a little late for kinktober (oops) i’ve decided to try n do this thingy of my own </3 genshin men w a pregnant partner n maybe i’ll do separate oneshots too throughout the month if im not busy enough, i’ll try my best! i also took time 2 try n improve my writing style n i think it paid off.. anyways reblogs + feedback appreciated ! (guys i wroye this when i’m half asleep #help)
𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄, 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄
— "love, you're too cute when you pout like that," neuvillette chuckled, lightly pecking your cheeks with soft chaste kisses
NEUVILLETTE has always been your caretaker during your hard months of pregnancy, he was always there to aid you even if he had such a tight schedule! trust me, he’s always there to aid you no matter where he is.. oh you’re craving something? he already had it made and prepared downstairs for you to eat, oh you’re in pain? he’s already massaging your body to calm your nerves, oh you want him to get something for you? he’s already making his way downstairs to get it! let’s all be honest, this dragon is one of the sweetest darlings ever.. he’s just so thrilled that you’re carrying his little dragonlings, he couldn’t be happier! neuvillette’s so gentle with you.. even during intimate moments. neuvillette always has you laying down on a soft surface, his lips dancing across your flesh as his hair tickled your sensitive skin, he knows how to make sure you feel good.. sometimes he gets too lost in the moment he doesn’t even notice the littlest things! trust me, he knows how to make you feel good, he knows how to calm your hormones.. he knows how to pleasure you. neuvillette knows it all.
here you were, laid down comfortably on the mattress.. the sheets beneath you warming you up as you tugged on your husband’s white locks, emitting a soft grunt from him. neuvillette had been too caught up in the moment to notice only a little milk dripping from your other breast. instead, he kissed and sucked at your other one passionately, his hands caressing your waist in between bouts of fondling your tits. the sight of your exposed body sent a deep and primal wave of lust through him, it was enough to send him into pure euphoria as the feeling of your body against him was a kiss from the heavens above and the archons themselves. “my sweet angel," neuvillette whispered gently, his voice soft yet full of passion. "i want to love you from head to toe, i want every part of you to scream my name in delight.. i want you to experience pleasure beyond your wildest imagination. please, let me give you more litters of dragonlings inside this irresistible body of yours..”
𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘, 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄
— “you’re positive, right? you sure you’re alright?” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against your neck
WRIOTHESLEY honestly never thought of having kids himself, but that all changed when you announced your pregnancy to him a few months prior.. he was thrilled! a little shocked and nervous to say the least, since he was nervous he wouldn’t be a good husband and father to your future kids but it went by smoothly, wriothesley had a major soft spot for you and only you. his face always fills with love and joy as he took note of your swollen and pregnant belly, sometimes he lets you wander around the fortress but sometimes he knows you’re sensitive to many smells and all that so he just keeps you in the house. but yet sometimes.. he has too much on his hands that he never has time to come home. visiting him at work became a frequent thing but he grew more protective of you, telling w few workers down at the fortress to scram if they bother you too much. wriothesley loves having you around his office, but yet, huh.. who knew visiting him here could also have it’s benefits.
wriothesley held your knees, his large hands engulfing your flesh as he grunted at the mere pulse of your pussy around his cock. he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, someone could walk in any moment but who was he to deny his own wife? he can’t deny you when you’re all shy and embarrassed like that.. asking him to fuck you and breed you just like he did those few months before, who was he to deny a request like that? the larger male had kept a slow and steady rhythm with you, he promised himself he wouldn’t listen to your begging.. begging for him to go faster. but i guess it’s fine to break promises every now and then, right? wriothesley picked up the pace as he rubbed his thumb against your clit, the feeling of his cock pounding deep inside your cunt was enough to send you to the moon. “fuck.. taking me so well, princess.. ‘gonna make me cum quicker than normal.” he whispered against your ear, caressing your belly ever so gently.. his gentleness corresponding with his harsh thrusts. “what, hm? you want someone to see you in this state? ‘want someone to catch me breeding my pretty pregnant wife in my office?— mm.. seems like y’do.. look at how much you’re sucking me in.”
𝐋���𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄
— “oh? someone’s moody today.. did i do something wrong, sweetheart? you know i didn’t mean it, c’mon! talk to me.”
LYNEY was one of the main reasons for your constant smiles and giggles throughout the day, your baby isn’t even born yet and he’s already an excellent father! the magician always sits down and chats with you, chatting about all sorts of things. what you both can name your baby(s), what magic tricks he can teach to them, how adorable they’ll look in clothes he bought for them.. he’s excited to be a father and he makes that clear! he spreads the news to lynette and freminet, and sometimes he might accidentally spread the news throughout public eyes. i mean, in a positive way! lyney takes great pride in being the father of your kids, he wants you to stay healthy and happy so your pregnancy goes smoothly, that’s all he wants. lyney’s touch is always so gentle.. caressing you like you were a mere piece of glass he had to protect.. there was something about his touch that just never fails to make you squirm, he’s good with his hands, of course you know that.. he’s just so gentle with you in many ways possible, it drives you absolutely insane sometimes.
“yeah? you like that? hmm.. how about you show me where else you would like me to touch you, go on.” his voice was just as hypnotic as his gaze.. lyney’s lips pressed against your neck as he waited for you to show him. “c’mon, you can do this.” he urged you on, you could feel your hands moving on their own as your hands made their way to your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples in between your fingers with your mouth hung open in pure ecstasy, sending nothing but deep electric vibrations throughout your body. “l—lyney.. here. i want you to touch me here.” your voice was laced with honey, the magician could’ve sworn he could taste and sense the need and want in your tone, it only made him desire you more. “mm.. we both know that’s not all, sweetheart. show me another, and show me how you want me to touch you there.” your other hand came down slowly, lazily playing with your clit as your body shook at the even the softest touch. lyney hummed against your ear as he pressed his finger gently against your lips, trying to silence you as he gazed down at your swollen belly the blonde magician held you close, pumping two fingers inside your hole, smirking against your skin. “there, there.. good girl. such a good girl for me, are you?”
𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇, 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓
— “alright.. i have this, this and this for you. do you need anything else? still hungry?”
KAVEH is a a good and caring husband.. though sometimes he’s a little too busy, which often frustrates you since he isn’t there to support and be by your side half of the time. honestly, you can’t blame him sometimes, he always comes home late with a shit ton of papers and piles and piles of sketches and drawings he made that day, kaveh’s always busy, you can’t stop or deny that. most of the time, he makes up to you by providing you with the things you like.. like food you’ve been craving! kaveh adores talking to his baby within your belly, always talking about how ‘papa is always there for them’ and how much he loves them. to put it in a more easier way, the young architect considers your pregnancy an absolute blessing, you were sure he kissed the floor and thanked every star in the universe when he found out you were expecting his little one, he was overjoyed! despite his busy tasks, kaveh will be willing to provide you with anything you want. especially pleasure.
“you want me to please you here?” his voice rung in your ears, nodding slowly as you bit your lip. you missed this, you missed him. kaveh had too many rough and difficult schedules already, you missed him and his touch.. you missed everything, but tonight he was gonna give it all. your lashes slowly fluttered open as your hands tightened your grip on his shoulder, kaveh smiled softly, his eyes looking deep into yours with affection. "i’m giving you what you want now, sweet angel.” the architect caressed your thighs as he slowly lifted your dress up and started to caress your stomach. "you’ve certainly become quite attractive with your pregnancy bumps," he whispered softly, smiling warmly before he allowed his urges take over, closing his eyes as his tongue mingled with your folds, giving small kitty licks before pushing himself further into you, savouring your juices. he was slow, yes.. but he wanted to get used to your taste again, flicking his muscle against your sensitive bundles of nerves as he allowed himself to get lost in your taste, palming the bulge through his pants. “let go, lovely. let me claim you once more.”
𝐀𝐋-𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌, 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐄
— “tell me, go on. what do you need? i’m in all ears.”
AL-HAITHAM is a hard individual to read, that’s for sure. sometimes you couldn’t really tell if he was happy about some story you decided to share with him and whatnot, but one thing you do know is that he’s absolutely thrilled about your pregnancy. alhaitham would be lying to himself if he said that the sight of your expanded belly didn’t awaken something in him. he’s always there, helping you around despite how busy he gets sometimes.. he’s calm and collected, sometimes you’d catch him talking to your baby when you’re asleep, talking about how pretty their mama is, and how excited he is to teach them about his own knowledge about this world they’re about to enter, he’s excited for his baby to be born and you know it. well.. maybe a little too exited.
he tried to be gentle, he really did. but you know he can’t resist you when you’re whining and whimpering like this, especially with that beautiful round belly of yours. alhaitham can’t help himself, really. he was needy, needy for you. he needed you and he needed you now. the scribe bit his lip as his large hands grabbed at your hips, lifting you further against him as his cock slid into your cunt so perfectly. alhaitham’s thoughts went blank at the sound of you calling his name in that way, as if you were speaking words of pure music. “mmh.. look at you. look at how good you’re taking me, even when you’re pregnant you’re still a slut for my cock now, aren’t you?” his hair fell onto his shoulders in wet clumps, “so fuckin’ full, so damn soft. you’re all round and smooth, the perfect body to bear our children." his dick buried myself into your walls, your juices coating it with white, “just like all my other possessions, this body is mine. maybe i should even put my name on it.. so damn perfect, yeah?”
#ᖭི༏ᖫྀ maryse’s diary ૮꒰˶˃̵ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა#genshin smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact smut#genshin x reader#neuvillete x reader#neuvillette smut#wriothesley smut#kaveh smut#wriothesley x reader#lyney smut#alhaitham smut#lyney x reader#kaveh x reader#alhaitham x reader#kisses 4 all of em ! <3
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐗-𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
↳ includes: charles xavier, erik lehnsherr, logan howlett, marie lebeau, and peter maximoff
↳ warnings: x-man type violence maybe? nothing much
↳ notes: just some self indulgent headcanons about how the gang would deal with someone who hates skin on skin contact. this is based on my own personal experiences, so it might not cater to everyone. charles and erik are written to be more of themselves around the first class era, peter is himself as seen in apocalypse, and marie & logan are more set in the first movie's portrayal of them
↳ song: heavy metal lover—lady gaga
masterlist | commissions | carrd
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 [𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐗]
• Oh this is not one bit of a problem for Charles
• He's never needed physical contact to connect with people. Whether that's because of his powers, or his 'natural charm' as he calls it, you aren't sure, but your strange request for no contact never seemed to put him off his friendship with you
• Charles has his own ways of bonding with you, no hugs or handshakes required. Instead of nudges used to alert the other of a particularly funny joke, he'd just send you flashes in your mind regarding the situation. The end result was always the same; with the both of you grinning at each other while the rest of the room was left to make their own assumptions as to what you were thinking about
• "Seriously, it's creepy when they do that. They could be talking about anything." Alex whispered to Hank one day as you and Charles stood across the room from each other, not caring if the Professor was able to hear him or not. The only sign that you were even talking was the occasional huff of laughter Charles would let out as you scrunched your nose up in a toothy grin
• "Oh, I wouldn't say that." Hanks eyes gleam from behind his glasses as he watches the two of his friends. "Charles tells me most of it is just really bad jokes, if you want to know."
• As if on cue, the spell between you and Charles breaks as you delve into a laughing fit, and Alex and Hank can't help but shake their heads at each other in slight amusement as they watch
• He does an excellent job at speaking for you when you can't quite explain to new people why you are the way you are—as long as you'll let him, of course
• Maybe it's because he's been in your head, or just because he knows you so well that he can say exactly what you're thinking before you even know it. And sometimes, he doesn't even need to explain much at all. One carefully worded sentence backed with that steady tone of his is enough to make even the most ignorant of people understand
• "No handshakes for them, please." Charles had found himself saying that sentence more times than he could count since getting to know you, but he never found himself growing tired of it; even when you eventually found the awkward courage to start speaking on your behalf. Especially when you started speaking on your behalf
• Charles is a very patient man, and he couldn't be happier than to wait for you to open up to the world like you had done for him, even if it does take a while
𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐋𝐞𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫 [𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐨]
• I'm going to be completely honest with you. At first, Erik finds your habit of avoiding touch annoying
• It's a weakness in his eyes that you have every opportunity to avoid acquiring. He doesn't see the point in being afraid of something so miniscule
• When he first meets you, he's probably an asshole about it. Erik doesn't go out of his way to touch you on purpose, but he won't take extra steps to stop himself from doing so. If the back of his hand brushes against yours as he storms away from another one of Charles' annoying lectures? Then so be it. Who cares if you pull back from him like you've been burned, clutching your skin tightly as you glare at his retreating form
• It will take a while for Erik to begin to understand you, much like it does for him to understand a lot of things about the rest of the world. I won't say that he ever officially apologizes for his past behavior toward you, but he definitely drops hints that he does regret it
• "Never thought I'd live to hear the Erik Lehnsherr himself say sorry for something he did. Next you'll be telling me you've always liked humans." Your eyes were wide in faux surprise as you stared at him one day, looking like you had just heard the best news of your life. It was a good thing you and Erik had a much better relationship than when you had first met, otherwise he wouldn't have had a second thought about shutting you up
• "All I said was that maybe I maybe could have been a bit nicer to you." He sighed, already regretting this entire interaction
• "Oh, you're not getting off that easy." You were already scrambling for the door, completely missing the way Erik rolled his eyes and flicked his hand up in preparation. "Charles! Charles, you'll never believe what just happened—"
• He ended up using your belt buckle to drag you across the room before you could embarrass him any further
• Once he's warmed up to you, I'd like to think that he's definitely used the fact that lots of people wear rings and bracelets to his advantage to stop people from touching you at bars or in crowds
• He swears up and down he doesn't get attached to anyone, and especially not someone that associates with the X-Men of all groups, but you've definitely have had a few people look at their hands around you in confusion while he's around. Almost as if someone else had a say in their actions
• "Big softie."
• "You do know I could kill you if I wanted to."
• "I'd like to retract my last statement, please and thank you."
𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 [𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞]
• Logan doesn't give two shits about your strange request
• Not in the way that he ignores it like Erik, but rather in the way that he literally doesn't give a fuck if you want to be touched or not. He wasn't planning on touching you anyways, so it's not like he really has to think about it
• If anything, Logan is one of the only people who can even begin to understand your mindset. He's never been too fond of people just outright touching him without a warning first, especially if they were strangers, but that's what you get after being experimented on for years
• He'll have to get to both know and like you before he starts taking your words more seriously. Otherwise, all you're getting from him is a gruff noise of disinterest and a roll of his shoulders as he blows past you
• Or ar least that's what he'd like you to think
• "Watch it, pal." You barely had time to process what that noise was next to your ear before Logan was standing dangerously close to you. You were about to ask him to back away before you saw his hand up, and when you looked at his hand you saw it was closed around a strangers wrist; the likes of which was outreached in your direction and just about to make contact with you
• Logans rough tone and sharp glare had sent the fellow stumbling away with an apology, and left you standing there with a bewildered look on your face. It only grew larger when he refused to look at you afterward
• "Don't let it get to your head." Was all he huffed out in your general direction before walking off to continue the mission the both of you were on. Through the com's in your ears, you could hear the rest of the team asking you what was going on, and with a slow upward tick of your lip you finally answered
• "I think Wolverine here has gone a bit soft on my end guys."
• You were given the cold shoulder for the rest of the week by Logan, and every time he glared at you, you couldn't help but try to hold in laughter
• "See, this is why I'm not nice."
• "No no no I take it all back, I swear. You're so mean. You're the meanest, toughest person here, never done a good deed in your life—"
• "Shut the fuck up."
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮 [𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]
• She doesn't understand why you'd choose to have people not touch you
• For Marie, not being able to hug someone— to even so much as hold hands with the people she loved —is a curse. She wasn't such a fool to think that her mutation itself was the curse, Charles had managed to drill that thought out of her head a long while ago, but the side-effect that came with it would forever haunt her
• So when she found out that you actively took strides to make sure no one ever touched you (if possible), she was in disbelief
• "I just don't get it." She'd confessed to you out of the blue once. "How can you stand it? If I were you—"
• "But you're not." You cut her off and shrugged, voice devoid of any meanness or annoyance at the turn of conversation. "I get it. I must seem crazy to you. I'd imagine that you'd jump at the chance to be able to touch someone again. But that just isn't me. I can't stand the feeling of being touched. Makes me feel gross; inside and out. I don't ask you to understand it, just that you respect it. Yeah?"
• She had nodded slowly at you, not expecting the sudden explanation. It wasn't unwelcome, however. Quite the contrary. She'd rather understand you than stew in quiet confusion
• From that moment on, even if Marie thinks you're a little crazy in the head, she does her best to make sure that both herself and others take your wishes to heart
• You have to admit, it's nice having her look out for you. And it helps that she's one of the most powerful mutants on campus; one sideways look from her, and she could send anyone in the opposite direction from you if you need
𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 [𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫]
• You're constantly having to remind him that you don't like people touching you
• It's not Peter's fault he forgets sometime. His brain is always going going going from one thing to the next. Thinking about the next mission, the quickest way to get from one end of the country to the other, how to beat that stupid kid at the arcade that keeps leaving him and his high scores in the dust—
• Okay so maybe he could do a bit of a better job of trying to listen
• "Peter, reach for the back of my neck again and I'm gonna break both of your legs." You didn't even have to turn around to know that he was itching to latch onto your neck, most likely to take you on a surprise trip a few states over. Or maybe just to the mall. He was spontaneous like that
• When you did manage to look up from your notebook and back at him, you found that Peter was already a good few feet away from you, holding up his hands with a deceivingly innocent smile; but respecting your wishes all the same
• "You sure you're not a secret nun or something?" He poked fun at the way you refused to let anyone touch you, even going as far to squint at you in an unconvinced manner. You ignored his clear misunderstanding of nuns to snort in amusement
• "No."
• "Could have fooled me, babe."
• He sped away before you had the chance to throw your papers at his head
• Peter's probably the kind of guy to constantly tease you to your face, but the moment you're not in sight and someone's ragging on you, he'll shut them down. He's done it many times to stray students in the hallways of the school who talk just a little too loud about your personal boundaries
• "I'm just saying, man, they're a little weird. The other day, I asked to borrow a pencil, and they threw it at me. While standing less than a foot away. It's just strange—"
• Less than a second later, the student was sent falling to the floor over his shoelaces, which were suspiciously tied together in contrast to moments ago when they had been placed in neat little bows
• The only sign that this hadn't been a freak accident was the telltale burst of wind that sped by the student and their friend, a faint laugh following in its wake
#xmen#xmen x reader#xmen x you#xmen x y/n#charles xavier#charles xavier x reader#charles xavier x you#charles xavier x y/n#erik lehnsherr x reader#erik lehnsherr x you#erik lehnsherr x y/n#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine x y/n#rogue#rogue x reader#rogue x you#rogue x y/n#peter maximoff#quicksilver#peter maximoff x reader#peter maximoff x you#peter maximoff x y/n#magneto#professor x#erik lehnsherr#x reader#headcanons
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PEACH YOUR BABY DADDY!SUKUNA.....
He distanced himself bc he's not a good guy, he's got a shit job, can barely pay child support but he does what he can. And he always looks after your daughter when you're busy, takes every moment to be with her that he can, even tho he knows that you're the more capable parent. You were always too good for him, and he was your bad boy fling, your mistake.
"I think you love momma more." His daughter told him, bless her unfiltered thoughts. She was probably right. Somehow, after all this time, he still found you completely stunning. He felt guilty for the way he treated you, seeing you persevere and thrive as you've gotten older. If anything, you got more beautiful with each passing day, and he couldn't be happier that his child was being raised by you, even if that meant he had to be out of the picture.
"maybe I do." He chuckled, a tinge of regret to his words. He remembered the ways he hurt you, the look on your face when he made you cry. His selfishness. It was always his selfishness that got in the way. "But I'm not good at it."
// brutally soft // III.
baby daddy!sukuna x reader
tags: non curse au; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different; mentions drug use and drinking; mentions cheating; sukuna being soft; unrequited love; angsty | | read this for more context & this & this
note: (I am so sorry this took me so long to respond to) but!! you don't get to leave something like this and not expect me to sweetly return the favor by meddling with your feelings the way you did mine. because holy shit, nyx, just hearing sukuna say "I'm not good at it" in a hushed, sad voice made me want to take my own ribs out.
dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor
"mama! guess what!" your daughter says. "I have a secret!"
you smile to yourself because she always has a secret to share these days. little, innocent things that capture her attention which seem worthy of keeping confidential.
"you know," you say as you help her into her dress. "you're not supposed to tell secrets when you have them..."
"but I tell you everything, mama!"
you lift her up in your arms, the weight of her body getting heavier by the day and reminding you of how fast she's growing.
sukuna is taking her to visit her uncle yuji, and she has been over the moon about it. you place her on the seat of her vanity, and proceed to fix her hair since sukuna will be arriving in twenty minutes, and you want to make sure that she's all set once her dad gets here. you giggle at her response, "okay, okay, what's the secret?"
she looks at you from the mirror's reflection and covers her mouth as she chuckles.
"hey, what's with the sly face?" you prod, holding a chunk of her hair gently between your palm.
"do you know ms. kiko?" she asks, referring to her pre-school teacher.
"mhmm, what about her?"
she giggles again. "well, she told told mrs. chiyo that she thinks daddy is cute!!"
your heart thumps. oddly.
you're not immune to the way that the women look at the father of your child. it's the same alluring, seductive energy that drew you to sukuna in the first place.
but it's been years since you've both been intimate together in any capacity, you're sure that he's probably got someone on call if and when necessary. considering he has more spare time than you do without a child running around, you're pretty sure that sukuna is satisfied with whatever situationship he's in. you've learned to swallow the discomfort of the idea of sukuna with other women. just like how you had to bury the hurt of the very one who tore your relationship apart.
you hum at her observation, your fingers idly braiding her hair.
it's not like you were single anymore either. you've been casually dating a lawyer on and off. it wasn't serious per se, but it wasn't a fleeting relationship where it made you feel like you were entirely free of the attachment.
he's even met sukuna at this point.
granted those dates are few and far between, but you were a single mother who worked full time.
trying to commit to a relationship is hard.
even though, you would love to share all this with...someone.
"anyway, I had to warn daddy to be careful..." your daughter interjects.
"warn him?" you repeat with a smile, her choice of words adorable.
"yeah! so, I told daddy that ms. kiko was in love with him, and asked him if I should tell her to stop..."
"stop?"
"being in love with him!" she responds with a grimace.
that makes you laugh. "and why would you do that, hmm?" you question gently for fun.
"because I know that daddy loves you more, mama!"
your heart thumps again, harder this time. so hard you feel it nearly knock the wind out of you. you clear your throat to ease the apprehension while your daughter kicks her legs with anticipation.
"and how would you know that?" "because," she insists, "daddy told me that he loves you more than anyone else in this world"
her words spill out of her, a glass of water that's been carelessly knocked over. you scrunch your brows as each word registers into your brain, soaking over your to do lists and mental checks.
"what?" you whisper as you stare at this little girl who has already carried on the conversation.
"after me, obviously," she presses - because no one can take her place when it comes to the love that you and sukuna both give her.
"wait-wait..." you say a little breathless, your hands suddenly trembling as you do your best to finish the job you started. "what did your daddy tell you? I didn't quite-"
"he said he loves you more than anyone else in the world..." she repeats, her focus on the rogue hair brush that sits at her small vanity. "so, yeah, that's why I asked daddy if I should tell ms. kiko to stop saying he's cute..."
"your...your daddy is just being silly..." you murmur, trying to underplay the statement. you slip the hairband around her second braid to secure the style in place.
impossible, you think. that's impossible.
so much time has passed between you both.
you buried that part of your past long ago.
left it and refused to look back-
"nu-uh. he said that I don't have to say anything to ms. kiko. that it's okay because he loves momma more, anyway. but daddy also told me once that he's not that good at it," she adds on, her fingers picking at the bristles of her bright purple brush, "whatever that means..."
"when did you and your daddy have this conversation..."
the realization hits her then, and she stares up at you before covering her mouth. "oops," she states, glancing from side to side, "I pinky promised daddy I wouldn't tell you that..."
before you can fish out anything else from her, she hops off her seat, her feet pattering away as she moves across the room towards her pile of plushies.
"who should I take with me?" she says loudly, brushing aside the fact that she said far more than she should. she stands with her hip jutted out and her finger pressed against her lips, her back facing you.
you have to lean against her closet to steady yourself. you do your best to rationalize sukuna's words, trying to decipher the pieces in this game of whispers.
your mind flashes to the horrid break up five and a half years ago. a memory that exists hazily in the back of your mind, to the moment of you standing in sukuna's dingy old apartment holding a lacy white bra between your fingers.
it was not yours.
"what is this?" you gasped, your breath straining as your chest rose and fell with unease. "what the fuck is this..."
it's the only time you've ever seen sukuna panicked.
your memory only captures his words in blurs.
of him drinking too much.
way too much.
of him not waking up alone but swearing that he thought he was was you.
of him not recollecting his own thoughts because he blacked out that night.
of him being just as shocked when he realized the warm body next to him was not his girlfriend.
he begged you to forgive him.
"Baby, I swear. I fucking swear I will clean up my act. I-I'll never fucking drink again. Fuck, I went too far last night. One of the guys was passing around these pills I shouldn't have fucked around with them..."
you couldn't.
you couldn't accept any of it.
you already tolerated so much with him.
the drinking, the recreational drug use, his inability to keep a job, and him nearly ending up in jail for causing fights.
but you saw so much more in that man - and yet, he proved you wrong.
this betrayal spoke volumes.
this betrayal proved to you that you were expendable to him too.
that you just weren't that important.
that shadow of that man doesn't exist anymore. not with this new version of sukuna in your life.
he almost makes you forget the past. this man; your daughter's sunlight. her knight in shining armor. the source of her joy.
he may not have been good at loving you, but that little girl has him in the palm of her hand.
and he loves her with all his might, it feels like his absolution.
"mama?" your daughter calls out, snapping you out of your thoughts.
she's standing right in front of you now, holding a rabbit plushie in one hand and a penguin in the other.
"can I take both?" she asks innocently, her wide eyes glittering brightly as she remains oblivious to your own personal drowning.
"n-no," you stammer out, and affectionately poke the small dimple in her cheek. "just one, my love. we all know your uncle yuji will have more for you when you see him..."
her eyes widen, "that's right!" she exclaims, "he always finds the best and softest ones!"
the bell rings, and you abruptly stand on your feet.
your throat tight, your stomach fluttering.
"daddy's here!" your daughter cheers, and instantly runs out of the room.
you pick up her weekend bag and sling it over your shoulder. you pause and exhale softly, telling yourself to relax before following in her footsteps.
sukuna's deep voice greets you first.
"look at these braids on you..."
you find them both at the foyer, your daughter already scooped up in her father's big, muscular arms. his hand is tugging at one of her braids and she's smiling wildly in his direction.
he's wearing an oversized leather jacket, the fit only bulking up his stature. your daughter is gripping his black tee between her hands, and she yanks it gently before asking: "can we go now?"
sukuna smiles and your spine shivers.
age has done wonders for him too.
"easy, princess, let me say hi to your mom first..."
your fingers grip onto the strap of her weekender bag nervously. you don't know why you suddenly feel very aware of how you look.
of the fact that you're completely barefaced and running on five hours of sleep. that your choice in clothes is a pair of unflattering sweats and hoodie which has some coffee stains on it. you desperately need to wash your hair, and are due for a manicure appointment.
sukuna turns to face you, "hey you, I didn't notice you standing there..."
you clear your throat again, "hi! sorry...I uh-I didn't want to interrupt..."
sukuna adjusts the hold on your daughter, allowing you to approach him as he couldn't take off his boots.
"she all ready for me?" he asks.
"mhmm" you answer quietly, at a complete loss for words because all you can hear is "daddy said he loves you more than anyone else in the world."
you hand off the bag to him, which he takes with ease.
"it's not too late to join us," he offers, but you give him a small smile and shrug of your shoulders.
"trapped with work unfortunately,"
sukuna glances in your daughters direction, "I tried..."
she pouts your way. "you sure, mama?"
"yeah, my love, I am sure."
you slide into sukuna's frame, doing your best to carefully not touch any part of his broad canvas. you stand up on your tip toes and place multiple kisses on your daughter's cheek.
"I love you and I am going to miss you like crazy these next two days," you state sweetly, feeling her wrap her arms around your neck to give you a hug and a kiss in return. "promise me you'll be on your best behavior..."
"I promise!!" she answers.
you find the courage to meet sukuna's soft eyes, the ease on his face doing nothing to help your shattering state.
"I guess you're both set then," you say with a sigh.
he furrows his brow at your tone, and leans forward to make direct eye contact toward you. your lips part slightly at the close proximity of his face with yours, and he tilts his head like a curious cat before asking: "you okay?"
your heat burns so naturally. your heart ready to climb it's way up your throat. you blink back in surprise at his question, and stutter out a "I-I'm fine..."
"you sure?" he presses as he casually stands upright again, like he didn't just pop the bubble of your personal space. "you seem a little off..."
"I am okay," you reassure with a firm nod, before dropping your gaze down at your feet as you shift your balance. "I-I just have a lot on my mind today is all..."
there is a gentle tap just underneath your chin, your attention lifts up to look back at sukuna. his expression is stoic, but you can see the concern in his tense jaw. he taps the space just beneath your bottom lip, your insides turning at the gesture he used to do to you countless times before.
"anything I need to be worried about?" he asks calmly, his choice of words a veil over his obvious unsettlement.
you feel like you really can't breathe then.
your mind spins to when you carelessly kissed him. to when he returned the gesture at your daughter's play.
what seemed so innocent now feels like a serious overstep.
your hand circles around his wrist and you pull him away from you. "I'm fine, Ryomen," you acknowledge politely, trying to keep your words detached but kind.
after you see them both off and shut the front door, you find yourself pressed against the wooden frame. your back weakly glides down the surface until you're sitting on the floor. you bring your knees close to your chest, shaking at the prospect not because you don't want it to be true, but because you are terrified of allowing yourself to even open your heart to sukuna again.
he broke you. he hurt you. and yet, he somehow was the only thing that healed those wounds.
he is the reason why you were able to bring your daughter into this world. he treated her with immense love and supported you in every capacity to build this imperfect little family with you.
ryomen sukuna - your dark angel. the source of your deepest pain, and the reason for your happiest joy.
the wall that you've kept between you and sukuna exists as a safety barrier. you can peek over whenever necessary, but it doesn't mean you ever have to cross that boundary.
and yet, you've caught yourself with the consideration of sitting on the ledge, or maybe even stepping onto the other side.
all it takes for you is to then see the cracks and damages of the past as a reminder of what keeps stopping you.
"get a grip of yourself" you mutter out loud.
you let go of that love. you remind yourself, and you both are better for it.
sukuna is a completely different individual now, and you are in a much happier place than you were before.
the whirlwind romance, the intense passion and addictive excitement fizzled. the sparkle having faded the moment his betrayal was revealed.
maybe your love for each other is just too destructive when intertwined so closely. but existing loosely as small strings, and tethered to the singular entity that lives and breathes because of it...
maybe that should be more than enough for you both.
and you don't know why the thought breaks your heart a little.
#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna#ryomen sukuna angst#sukuna angst#hurt/comfort
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childhood sweethearts and paper rings ⋆˚࿔
synopsis ⭑.ᐟ james potter x reader where you both realize your love through paper rings
warnings: fluff overload, pining, a sprinkle of angst but resolved quickly, excessive paper rings
word count: 3,438 words
inspired from: (a bit) ➺ paper rings by taylor swift ♡
author's note: childhood best friends to lovers is james potter’s ultimate trope. argue with the wall
navigation┆james potter masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚
James Potter was seven years old when he decided that he was going to marry you. He didn’t understand much about marriage—only that it meant you’d be together forever, which sounded like the best thing in the world. After all, you were his best friend, and if forever wasn’t you, then who else could it be for?
The Potters and your family were close friends, and most weekends, you were bundled into the fireplace to floo to their house. James would meet you on the other side, grinning wildly and already tugging your arm to drag you outside. The two of you were inseparable, whether you were building forts in the garden or chasing each other around with toy brooms.
“Sunny, you’re supposed to catch it!” James exclaimed one summer afternoon as he tossed a quaffle your way. His glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them up impatiently.
“I’m trying!” you yelled back, laughing as the ball sailed past your outstretched arms. You were too busy giggling to notice James running to retrieve it. He came back with dirt on his knees and his hair even messier than usual.
“We’ll practice until you’re as good as me,” he declared, puffing out his chest in mock importance.
You scrunched up your nose, sticking your tongue out at him. “What if I don’t want to be good at Quidditch? What if I want to be the best cake-eater in the world?”
James grinned, his own cheeks turning pink. “Then I’ll be the second-best. We can do it together.”
By the time you were eight, James had discovered the fine art of crafting paper rings. It started when he saw his mum making origami flowers for a party. Naturally, he wasn’t allowed near the good parchment—but his dad handed him some scraps, and the rest was history.
The first paper ring James gave you was lopsided, crumpled at the edges, and had a faint ink smudge from where he’d tried to draw a flower on it. You’d accepted it with wide, delighted eyes, slipping it onto your finger like it was made of gold.
“What’s this for?” you’d asked, holding it up to inspect the crooked folds.
“It’s…” James hesitated, suddenly bashful. “It’s a promise. You’re my best friend, and I’ll always be there for you.”
You grinned so brightly he thought his chest might burst. “I’ll always be there for you too, Jamie!” you chirped, and the name stuck, much to his parents’ amusement.
At nine, you and James built a treehouse. Or at least, you started to. James had insisted on using magic, and after much begging and wheedling, his mum had charmed a few planks of wood into place.
“It’ll be our secret hideout,” James said as you hammered nails into the rickety ladder.
“For what?” you asked, holding the ladder steady. Your hair was sticking to your forehead, and there was a streak of mud on your cheek, but you couldn’t have been happier.
“For… secret plans,” James decided. “Like how we’ll sneak extra pudding without anyone noticing.”
You beamed. “And maybe we can put all the paper rings here too. Like a treasure chest!”
He thought that was the best idea ever.
By ten, James had made you more paper rings than either of you could count. Some were decorated with little doodles, others with clumsy attempts at flowers or hearts. You kept them all in a shoebox under your bed, treasuring them like the precious artifacts they were.
One rainy afternoon, you and James sat cross-legged on the rug in his room, watching the droplets streak down the window.
“Sunny,” James said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Do you know what love is?”
You tilted your head, considering. “Not really. I think it’s when someone makes you really happy. Like my mum when she bakes my favorite cookies.”
James nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. I think it’s when someone does things for you. Like… like when you gave me the bigger half of your pie last week.”
You grinned, your toothy smile making his cheeks heat up. “Then I think love is when you gave me your scarf when I was cold.”
He grinned back, lopsided and bright. “Maybe love is when we’re best friends forever.”
When you turned eleven, everything began to change. A letter arrived, delivered by an official-looking owl, and James practically dragged you across the room to celebrate.
“We’re going to Hogwarts together!” he exclaimed, lifting you off the ground in his excitement. “This is going to be the best year ever!”
You squealed, clutching onto him as he spun you around. “Jamie, I’m so excited!”
Later that day, he gave you another paper ring. It was neater this time, folded carefully with gold-trimmed parchment he’d begged off his mum.
“This one’s special,” James said solemnly as you slipped it onto your finger.
“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.
“Because it’s the last one before Hogwarts,” he said. “But I’ll make you loads more when we’re there.”
You beamed, clutching the ring to your chest. “Best friends forever?”
“Forever,” he promised.
And that was the thing about James Potter. Even when he didn’t fully understand what love was, he knew one thing: it was always going to be you.
At Hogwarts, you quickly became part of the infamous Marauders. James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and you. Whether it was sneaking into the kitchens for late-night snacks or plotting pranks on the Slytherins, the five of you were inseparable.
James had a knack for getting the group into trouble, and you had a knack for talking your way out of it.
“It’s not my fault Snape looks so funny when his robes turn pink,” James argued one day, as you all hid in an empty classroom after a particularly successful prank.
“You used an entire bottle of dye,” Remus pointed out dryly, though he was biting back a smile.
“Totally worth it,” Sirius said, high-fiving James.
Peter chuckled nervously. “Do you think he’ll ever figure out it was us?”
“Who cares?” you said, laughing. “Jamie, you’re brilliant.”
James beamed at your praise, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face.
But while James was fearless in most things, there was one subject that turned him into a bumbling mess: Lily Evans, although you understood the feeling, cause she was gorgeous.
“Merlin’s beard, just look at her,” James sighed dreamily one afternoon as the five of you sat under a tree by the Black Lake. Lily was a few yards away, reading a book and flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“You’re staring again,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.
James turned red. “I am not!”
“You absolutely are,” Sirius chimed in, smirking. “If you’re going to pine, at least do it with some dignity, Prongs.”
“I’m not pining!” James protested, though his voice cracked slightly.
Remus raised an eyebrow. “You drew a heart with her initials in your Transfiguration notes yesterday.”
“I did not!” James said, horrified.
Peter nodded enthusiastically. “You did. I saw it too.”
You burst out laughing, leaning into James as he groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Jamie, it’s okay to have a crush. Especially if it's on Evans. I do too but the difference is you’re terrible at hiding it.”
“You lot are the worst,” he muttered, though he couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto his face.
Despite the relentless teasing, you were always James’ biggest supporter. When he finally worked up the courage to ask Lily out in your fifth year, you were the one who gave him the pep talk beforehand.
“You’re James Potter,” you said firmly, gripping his shoulders. “You’re charming, funny, and completely brilliant. If she doesn’t say yes, it’s her loss.”
James smiled nervously. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” you said confidently.
And even though a small part of you felt a twinge of something you couldn’t quite name, you pushed it aside. Because James was your best friend, and you’d always be there for him—just like he’d always be there for you.
It happened gradually, so slowly that you didn’t notice at first. The paper rings, once a constant in your life, became fewer and fewer. By sixth year, they stopped altogether. You told yourself it didn’t matter—after all, you and James were still thick as thieves. He was busy with Quidditch, the Marauders, and his relentless pursuit of Lily Evans.
But deep down, you missed them.
Then one day, an owl from your parents arrived during breakfast in the Great Hall. You tore open the envelope eagerly, only to feel your stomach drop as you read the letter.
The treehouse at the Potters burned down.
Your chest ached as you reread the words. The treehouse, your secret hideout, the place where you’d kept all the paper rings James had ever given you—gone. Reduced to ashes.
You left the Great Hall in a daze, clutching the letter as tears blurred your vision. It wasn’t just a treehouse. It was years of memories, laughter, and promises that now felt lost forever. You needed to tell James. He would understand.
You found him in the courtyard, a broad grin on his face as he spoke animatedly to Lily. She was laughing, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight, and for a moment, you hesitated.
Then you saw it: a paper ring in his hand. Your heart clenched painfully as he turned it over in his fingers, showing it to Lily with the same excitement he’d once reserved for you.
You felt a lump form in your throat. It was silly, really. You’d known for years that James fancied Lily. You’d encouraged him, teased him, supported him. And yet, seeing him with a paper ring—your paper ring—meant for her…
It felt like losing a part of yourself.
You turned on your heel and walked away before he could see you, the letter crumpled in your hand. As you hurried back to the common room, you tried to push the image from your mind, but it clung stubbornly.
You told yourself it didn’t matter. Maybe Lily had finally agreed to a date. Maybe the ring wasn’t even for her. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
But the ache in your chest told a different story.
You didn’t sleep much that night. The weight of the treehouse’s destruction—and the memories it held—pressed heavily on your chest. When morning came, you dragged yourself to breakfast, your usual bubbly demeanor dimmed.
James was already there, sitting with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, recounting some Quidditch play. He caught sight of you as you approached, and his grin faltered.
“Morning, sunny,” he greeted, nudging the bench beside him. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”
You plopped down next to him, twisting the edge of your sleeve. “James… the..the treehouse, it burned down.”
His face froze, confusion quickly giving way to shock. “What?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
You handed him the crumpled letter. He read it, his expression shifting to heartbreak. “Our treehouse? The one we built with my mum’s old cushions and all the fairy lights?”
You nodded, your throat tight. “All the paper rings… they were in there, James.”
For a moment, he just stared at the letter. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you like they used to when you were kids, and you buried your face in his shoulder, letting the familiar scent of parchment and pine comfort you.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think—I didn’t realize—”
You missed the way his breath hitched, his soft oh of realization. Missed the quick glance he threw across the table to Lily, whose knowing gaze met his. Her lips curled into the faintest smile, as if she understood something neither of you had quite pieced together yet.
But you were too caught up in the hug, too lost in your own heartbreak to notice anything else.
James Potter was not one to do things halfway. The moment he realized how much those paper rings had meant to you, he made it his mission to bring them back into your life in abundance. It started small—a single paper ring folded neatly and tucked into your Potions book during class.
“James,” you whispered, holding it up with an amused smile. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”
“Trouble’s my middle name,” he whispered back, grinning mischievously before turning back to Slughorn’s lecture like he hadn’t just slid a tiny masterpiece of folded parchment into your life.
But James Potter didn’t stop at small. Soon, the paper rings started appearing everywhere. One in your bag during Transfiguration. Another tucked into your scarf at breakfast. A stack of them slid under your pillow one night. He even charmed one to float down from the owlery like a paper snowflake as you walked past.
The grandest moment came during Defense Against the Dark Arts. James, thinking he was being discreet, crept over to your desk mid-lecture to slip a particularly colorful ring onto your parchment. Just as he leaned down, a shadow loomed over both of you.
“Ahem,” Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the room like a knife. The class went silent, every head swiveling to witness James Potter caught red-handed.
James straightened, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Just delivering a very important piece of classwork, Professor,” he said smoothly, holding up the paper ring as if it were a prized essay.
McGonagall’s lips twitched, though she worked hard to suppress a smile. “Very well, Mr. Potter. But if I catch you again, you’ll be writing lines until your quill runs out of ink.”
“Yes, Professor,” James said solemnly, though his wink to Sirius betrayed him.
As McGonagall turned back to the blackboard, you swore you saw her glance over her shoulder and wink—wink—at you. For a moment, you questioned your sanity.
By the end of the week, you had more paper rings than you knew what to do with. You didn’t have the heart to throw them away—not after all the effort James had gone to—so you started collecting them in an old chocolate box you found in your dorm.
Every night, you added the day’s rings to the collection, tracing your fingers over the creases and folds as you smiled to yourself. It was ridiculous, really. They were just bits of paper, after all. But each one felt like a tiny promise—a reminder of a boy who made the world brighter simply by being in it.
It was another morning at the Gryffindor table, and James was unusually quiet. Normally, he’d be drumming his fingers on the table, bantering with Sirius, or laughing at something Peter said. But today, he was poking at his eggs, lost in thought.
Remus noticed first. Of course, he did. “You haven’t mentioned Lily in a while,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow. “What happened? Did she finally hex you into silence?”
Sirius barked a laugh, and Peter snorted into his pumpkin juice. But James just shrugged, looking nonchalant.
“Oh, yeah, about that,” he said casually, as if he weren’t about to drop a bombshell. “Well… that’s not happening.”
Your fork clattered onto your plate. “Really?” you blurted, a little too loudly. You immediately ducked your head, heat rushing to your cheeks.
James smirked, but it wasn’t his usual mischievous one—it was softer, more thoughtful. “Yeah, she kind of pointed out that I might have feelings for someone else.”
The table went silent. Even Sirius, who rarely let anything keep him quiet for long, was staring at James in surprise.
“And?” Remus prompted, leaning forward like he already knew the answer.
“And I realized… she was right,” James admitted, his voice quieter now.
“Oh,” you said softly, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. “That’s… interesting.”
“Yeah,” James said, turning to look at you with a curious expression. “It is.”
For a moment, his hazel eyes seemed to search yours, like he was trying to figure out if you knew what he meant—if you felt the same.
But before he could say anything else, Sirius, who clearly couldn’t handle the suspense, interrupted with a loud, “So, who’s the lucky person, Prongs? Don’t leave us hanging!”
James flushed, the tips of his ears turning pink as he grabbed a piece of toast and stuffed it into his mouth, muttering something unintelligible.
“Oh, come on,” Sirius teased, elbowing him. “Out with it, mate!”
But James just shook his head, laughing nervously. “Not telling,” he mumbled through a mouthful of toast.
The conversation shifted after that, Sirius dragging Peter into a heated debate about whether or not owls secretly judged their owners, and you found yourself staring at your plate, your thoughts spinning.
You didn’t know what to make of James’ words. Who was he talking about? Was it someone you knew? Was it… you?
You glanced at James out of the corner of your eye. He was laughing now, teasing Peter about his messy handwriting, but there was something different about him—something softer.
You pushed the thought away. It couldn’t be you. Could it?
The Owlery was quiet, save for the soft hoots of the owls roosting in their perches. You had just tied your letter to your parents onto a barn owl’s leg, stroking its feathers as it took off into the morning light. Beside you, James was doing the same, his handwriting as messy as ever but filled with his usual warmth and charm.
As his owl soared into the sky, you lingered by the ledge, watching the horizon. James leaned beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, the kind that came with years of friendship. But you couldn’t stop thinking about breakfast, about what he’d said, and about the way he’d looked at you.
“So,” you started, your voice soft, “this… someone else you might have feelings for.”
James froze, his hands gripping the stone ledge. “Oh,” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “That.”
You turned to face him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Yeah, that.”
James rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Right. Well…” He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “It’s… complicated.”
“Complicated how?” you asked, taking a step closer.
He glanced at you then, his hazel eyes searching yours. “Because, well because it’s you,” he said quietly.
The words hung in the air, delicate and trembling. You stared at him, your mouth slightly open in surprise. “Me?”
“Yeah,” James said, his cheeks flushing pink. “It’s always been you, I think. I just… didn’t realize it until Lily pointed it out. And then when I thought about it—about us—it just made sense, you know? You’ve always been there. You’ve always been you.”
Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “James…”
“I know it might be weird,” he said quickly, misinterpreting your silence. “And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just thought you should know, because I—”
“I feel the same,” you blurted out, cutting him off.
He blinked at you, his mouth hanging open. “You do?”
You nodded, a shy smile spreading across your face. “I do.”
For a moment, James just stared at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, slowly, his lips curled into the biggest, brightest grin you’d ever seen.
“Brilliant,” he said softly, almost to himself.
You laughed, the sound light and bubbly, and he joined in, his joy infectious. Before you knew it, he was stepping closer, his hand reaching for yours.
“I, uh, don’t have a proper ring,” he said, his voice nervous but warm. “But…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar folded strip of parchment.
Your breath hitched as he gently slipped the paper ring onto your finger, his touch lingering. “There,” he said, his smile soft and a little shy. “Perfect.”
You looked down at the ring, your chest swelling with warmth. It was so James—simple, sweet, and utterly wonderful.
“Perfect,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.
When you looked up, he was already watching you, his hazel eyes filled with something so soft and tender it made your knees weak.
“Does this mean you’re stuck with me?” you teased, your cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling.
“Forever, if you’ll have me,” James said, grinning.
And as the owls cooed above and the sunlight bathed the two of you in gold, you knew you would. Forever and always.
© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.
#dividers by enchanthings#james potter x reader#james potter#james potter fluff#james fleamont potter#james fluff#ivy writes ⋆.˚#james potter drabble#james potter fanfiction#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#dividers by bernardsbendystraws
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Birthday Blues
Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader
Authors note: finished this yesterday but tumblr deleted it xx
Warnings: none, for once
Word count: 5.9k
Requested: yes/no
Max was tired. He’d been at this charity event for hours, sat to the side sipping at some drink he’d been handed as he watched coworkers and acquaintances mill about, spreading joy he didn’t have.
He’d came alone, contrary to most of his friends who all danced and laughed with their partners, swinging around loosely under the evening lights, faint music guiding their hearts in a loving dance.
He’d come under the notion that he’d get to hang out with Daniel or Charles, maybe even Checo. But they were all whisked away with the brush of a gentle hand and a lipstick kiss, leaving with the merry call of their lovers giggle and leaving a disgruntled and lonely Max in their wake.
So here he was, his friends preoccupied and in love, a frown gracing his face and the ideal of charity being the only thing keeping his perfectly clean dress shoes cemented to the tile floor.
He takes a big swig of whatever drink was in his hand, grimacing as the bourbon burned his throat on the way down. He vaguely considers leaving, debating how much his presence would be missed by those happier than him when one of the few people in the same boat as him comes bounding up.
“Maxie!” Max winces at the volume of Landos voice as he stomps happily up to the Red Bull driver, a toothy grin on his slightly intoxicated face. Max disregards the awful nickname, choosing instead to humor the McLaren driver.
“Hi Lando,” Max smiles, unable to truly be displeased around the ball of absolute joy in front of him, “Enjoying yourself?”
Lando laughs, although Max isn’t entirely sure what’s so funny. He doesn’t mention it though, tilting his head in the Brits direction.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fun,” Lando starts, moving to lean against the wall Max was standing on, “Seems to be more romantic than usual, though. Not exactly my cup of tea.”
This causes the frown to reappear on Max’s face, his lips forming a firm line as he’s reminded of his loneliness in the face of the romance that surrounded him. Max simply hums in response, suddenly wishing he had another drink. He turns to grab one from a nearby waiter, eyes trailing after them as they walk away. As he traces their path, his gaze finally catches on you.
You were stood a few yards away, your form perfectly blocked by the way Lando had been standing. After seeing you, Max wishes he’d pushed Lando out of the way much sooner. His gaze traces the features of your face delicately, scrawling over the expanse of your flowing dress, the red shining beautifully against your skin. Max wishes for nothing more than study the freckles that dot said skin, knowing he could makes the most beautiful constellations if given the chance. Your hair falls perfectly around your face, framing it as if it was a work of art. Even after one look, Max isn’t sure that you, in fact, aren’t one. He’d certainly pay good money even if your face was the only exhibit.
Lando, even in his drunken state, catches on to Max’s staring and turns to catch your attention, calling out your name in the loudest of fashions. Max finds himself mouthing your name to himself the second it leaves Landos lips, hoping he’d have to use it a lot in the future.
You turn and smile as you spot the pair, taking the few steps it takes to reach them. Lando slings an arm around your shoulder and Max is suddenly struck with the terrifying idea that you were dating the small, insane, terrifyingly unromantic Brit next to you. It would certainly be strange, considering Lando had just dismissed the event for being “too romantic”. But as you lean into his hold, Max has to stop himself from frowning.
“Maxie, this is my friend, Y/N. She’s just moved here so she’s crashing with me while her place gets furnished or whatever. She’s just as boring as you so I’m sure you’ll get along great,” Lando grins. You don’t seem offended by his words, probably both aware of the amount he’s drank and understanding of the joking connotation behind his rude statement.
“I don’t go out to a club with you one time and you decide to write me off for being boring ever since,” You roll your eyes, a charming smile on your lips. Max lights up at the realization that you’re not, in fact, dating the extremely talented McLaren driver next to you.
Lando snorts unceremoniously, swaying the two of you side-to-side, “Maybe you should’ve come out, then? It was sick, you would’ve loved it.”
“I was watching a movie, mate,” You laugh, ruffling the hair of your friend, “And I was sick!”
Lando laughs, finally releasing your shoulder from his grasp and falling back into place beside Max, “Yeah, yeah, whatever princess. Just be glad I brought you chicken soup the next day. Even with my nasty hangover and two hours of sleep!”
You smile warmly at the memory before something seems to strike you, “You fell asleep on my couch and then woke up and drank all my coffee!”
The thief in question holds his hands up in surrender, seemingly started to slowly back away from your accusatory glare, eyes scanning for an escape route, “Uh, why don’t you talk about that with Max, I’m gonna…”
His eyes finally catch on something on the other side of the room, his feet speeding up below him, “Go talk to Oscar! Bye, Y/N!”
You and Max turn to watch Lando speed away, careening into the back of Oscar, the Aussie stumbling forward from the impact. You look away, turning back toward Max with a slight laugh. As you face him, Max thanks the heavens for the atmosphere provided as the setting sun through the expansive windows combined with the soft lighting from above shine down on the side of your face, enlightening the curve of your lips as they open to release the soft melody of your voice.
“He’s so weird.”
Max laughs at the statement, his head moving on its own to agree with you, “He definitely is.”
You look up toward his face, your eyes quizzical and your head tilted slightly, “I’m so sorry, I don’t think Lando even properly gave us a second to meet. I’m y/n.”
Max nods, “Max.”
You smile, grasping a flute of champagne from a passing waiter into your perfectly manicured hand. Max takes a large gulp of his own glass, grateful for the temporary respite from his growing thirst.
“I know you, Max,” You smile, taking a sip of Champagne, “Been to a couple of races with McLaren. Congrats on being completely dominate by the way.”
Max laughs, ducking his head slightly as his face flushes red for a few moments, “Thank you.”
You nod, satisfied, as your eyes go back out or stare at the party flowing smoothly in front of you. Max leans slightly closer to you, causing your attention to snap back to him.
“If I’d known you’d been at a race I would’ve asked Lando to introduce us sooner,” Max smiles, liquid courage clearly causing excess confidence to bleed into his words.
You flush at his words, biting your lip in an attempt to cover your obvious grin. Max’s eyes widen warmly as you turn your face away, covering your warm cheeks with your free hand before turning back to him. Max is just happy he got you to laugh.
“Is that so?”
“Of course.”
You take another sip of your champagne, fully angling yourself toward the Dutch man, looking up through your eyelashes at him. Max isn’t sure on how yet but all he knows is that he won’t let this end, the party he once detested now becoming the most interesting thing he’d entertained in a while.
Max scans his eyes over your figure, gaze catching on a stack of bracelets sitting delicately on your wrist. A charm bracelet lays gently with a stack of bangles on top and, finally, a few ornately stitched thread bracelets are mixed throughout the stack.
“I like your bracelets.”
You perk up at his words, glancing between him and your wrist before lifting your wrist slightly up toward him, “Really? They’re from this brand in Greece! They’re all custom made and personalized however you want them to be.”
Max just watches as you fidget with some of the dangling charms on your bracelet, Max spotting a wave and a bird as they clank against the blue and gold thread of your other bracelet. He listens as you explain the lore behind the stack, a small grin forming as you get lost in your mind.
You’re not sure how long you’re stood there, conversing quietly as the party progresses without you. The sun sets in the time you talk, the only light now being the soft glow that the floating chandeliers cast onto your faces. You’re also not sure on how the topic comes up but you suddenly find yourself discussing your birthdays, Max shocked to find out you have the same one.
“September 30th, yeah?” You ask him, bright eyes widening as he nods. You seem to grin wider at his confirmation, another thing you have in common being added to the ever-growing list, “Any plans?”
Max is suddenly struck with the fact that, for once, he didn’t have any plans for his birthday. It wasn’t a race weekend so Red Bull wouldn’t be doing anything, he was grown enough where his family wouldn’t be organizing anything and this was the first year in a while he didn’t have a girlfriend to at least keep him company. He pauses at the thought, the absolute depressing notion of a thought causing his eyebrows to furrow.
“I guess not, no.”
You seem to catch onto his mental dilemma, gently reaching a hand up to rub small circles onto his shoulder. He tries his best not to move suddenly as your warm hand makes contact. He glances over, sporting the sympathetic smile on your face.
Not wanting to rain on your parade, he really tries to force a smile but it seems to come out as more of a grimace as you pat him, your hand dropping away, “You could always come to my birthday. Landos renting a boat. Id love to have you there.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything-“
You stop him, shaking your head with your persistently charming smile, “Nonsense, it’s a big boat, you wouldn’t be intruding anything. It’s your birthday too!”
He doesn’t seem fully convinced, though, and you roll your eyes, leaning fully toward him. You swing both arms around his neck, hands connected behind him and your body weight now fully leaned against him. Max, not wanting to knock you both over, rests his hands against your waist, hoping to save your balance.
You look up at him, biting your lip to stop the laugh threatening to escape your lips, “If you don’t want to share a birthday party, then I’m cordially inviting you to my birthday party as my friend.”
Max looks down at you, gaze soft as he stares at your gentle and genuine expression. He could tell you weren’t going to let this go, even if he turned down the invitation. So, despite his best judgement, he finds himself nodding as a yes, a grin starting to peak out on his usually stoic face. You laugh happily, leaning out of his grasp to sway merrily.
“I can’t wait to see you there,” you grin at the Red Bull driver, elation seeping into your voice, “Maxie.”
Max groans at the nickname but, for once, maybe feels a little charmed by it as it seems to bring you so much humor. You set your now empty glasses down on a nearby table, leaning forward to grasp Max’ hands in yours and practically tear him away from the spot on the wall he’d taken up for the past few hours. You start to lead him away from his corner of solitude toward the heart of the party which was still beating healthily despite the late hour.
“Come on, let’s dance,” you bounce on your heels excitedly as you pull him along, “You can help me plan what party information to feed Lando over the next few months. He still thinks it’s a surprise party but we live together and he’s anything but subtle.”
Max just smiles, following along behind you as he listens intently to your echoing voice. He sticks close to you, following your every step despite the fact that the idea of dancing at this party made him want to throw up. The idea of doing it with you and being able you hear you talk animatedly for a bit longer making the idea bearable enough for him to endure it. For your sake.
A few months later, Max finds himself on the deck of a yacht, sun shining down brightly onto his shoulders as the deep blue expanse of the Mediterranean stretched out in all directions below him.
He’d seen a good amount of people from the second he’d stepped onto the boat that morning, both people he knew and some he’d never met before. He knew Lando was around somewhere, his loud voice bouncing off the edges of the boat.
He hadn’t seen you yet but he wasn’t completely alone. Lando had taken the liberty of inviting Oscar who’d dragged along Logan, the two blond drivers having been sat on the upper deck since before Max had arrived.
It’s not that Max felt lost but he did feel a bit out of his element. Your friends milled around, wandering throughout the boat, conversations (and alcohol) flowing smoothly.
Just as Max moves to head up to where he’d seen Oscar and Logan hanging around, he’s frozen by the sound of your voice ringing out from a few yards away, “Max!”
Max’s eyes turn toward you, drifting over your body as he takes in the red swimsuit hugging your skin, the fabric the same shade as the red dress you’d worn at the gala all those nights ago.
Sunglasses sit perched on your nose, your hand moving to push the bridge of them back up from where’d they’d starting to slip down. Sunscreen sits atop your sun-kissed skin, casting a soft shining glow as the sunlight bounces off it.
“Hi, y/n,” Max smiles gently at you, still not completely at ease on the boat, “Happy birthday.”
You grin, quirking your head at the driver, “Happy birthday to you too, Maxie. I’m glad you decided to come.”
Max squints slightly as the sun beats down, rays of light sneaking into his unprotected eyes, “I didn’t want to miss your party, Lando even invited me himself.”
You laugh, head dropping back at his words. You both knew Lando was still under the impression that the whole party had been a surprise to you that morning. You were considering a career in acting with how Lando had believed your reaction.
“Well, make yourself comfortable, Landos paying so…” you trail off, shrugging your shoulders as you glance around, eyes tracing between the ocean and the sight of your friends lounging around before they land on the bar, drinks already being handed out, “We’ll set off in a few minutes, I think we’re just waiting on one more person.”
Max nods as you continue to look around, his eyes being dragged back to you.
You’re notably missing any jewelry, no doubt not wanting to lose it when you swim later. Max does notice the fresh set of nails you’ve got on, white and gold decorating the ends of your fingers.
You seem to notice Max’s attention on your hands and you grin, lifting your hands toward him, “You like? Got them done yesterday, I was more excited to spend the day with my mom than actually getting the nails. I’d usually get blue but I thought white would match my swimsuit better, you know?”
Max nods, grateful to, once again, hear your joyful rambling, “I like them, they’re really pretty.”
Your face forms into a satisfies smile, glancing over the nails in question before you look back up toward Max, “I’m glad you think so.”
Max smiles his first genuine smile since stepping on the boat, eternally grateful to have you here in front of him. Just as you’re about to say something, your eyes catch on something over Max’s shoulder and your mouth falls closed, a small exhale leaving your mouth as you seemingly hold back a laugh.
“Max!” A voice calls out from behind him. When Max turns, he’s met by the sight of one Daniel Ricciardo bounding down the dock, wearing a giant grin and a familiar burnt orange hat. Max’s eyes widen at the sight of the Aussie as he jumps onto the boat, his toned arm coming to swing around Max’s shoulders.
Daniel looks down at you, a humored smirk on your face, “Hi y/n, happy birthday.”
“Hi Danny,” you hum, looking between the pair of friends.
Daniel looks around, his eyes quickly catching on Lando, no doubt doing something stupid. He pats Max on the shoulder before peeling away, “Happy birthday Maxie, I’ll see you in a minute.”
Daniel bounces away, echoes of Landos name being shouted out of his mouth, the Brit quickly enduring the tackle of the older Aussie. Max laughs as he watches the attack, eyes crinkling and shoulders shaking.
Max looks back toward you when he hears your own melodic laugh ring out beside him, “You invited Daniel?”
You turn your head toward him, smiling shyly as you nod, “It’s your birthday too, didn’t want you to be too lonely.”
Max shakes his head, although he can’t fight the warm laugh that escapes him, already having a better birthday than he’d expected to.
“Now that our final guest is here, we can finally set sail,” you say, walking away from the boats entrance. Max, not entirely sure of where Daniel had gone, decides to follow you.
Max isn’t sure what he’d expected from the party but whatever was currently happening was exceeding that.
With the arrival of Daniel, he was officially friends with over 50% of the guests in attendance. After a few drinks, it was pretty easy for him to befriend your brothers as well, especially when he found out they were both huge sports fans.
As the boat sailed idly around the open water, the party roared smoothly, new and old friendships forging deeper bonds. Music played from the speakers, Landos playlist quickly being switched out for your own.
After a few hours, the boat stopped and Lando was quick to throw himself overboard, his happy shouts echoing as he hurtled toward the water below. He’s followed by Logan who reaches the water with a surprisingly elegant dive, his departure causing a begrudging Oscar to jump after him.
Then comes your brothers, the pair of them roughhousing the second they both come up for air.
You roll your eyes playfully as you watch them all come down, you and Max having been already laid out on the lower deck, the water lapping at the edge of the boat just a few feet away.
You snort as you watch a couple of your own friends push eachother into the water, your head turning back toward the sun above you when you hear the splash of them entering the water.
Your eyes stay closed as the sun shines down on you, the warmth spreading through your skin. Though your eyes do shoot open when you feel water splash over top you and a loud laugh rings out next to you.
Max watches as you sit up, your eyes locking on Daniel who’d just stepped over you in order to cannonball into the ocean, successfully converting both you and Max in the cold water. Max was fighting the urge to laugh, scared he’d end up being pushed in if he laughed too loudly.
You scowl playfully at the Australian who laughs before diving under for a few seconds, shaking his wet hair as he comes up and getting even more water on you.
You stand up, flipping him off before moving to walk away. Max stands up after you as you toss your sunglasses on a nearby couch, “I’m getting a drink, Max.”
Daniel, though, calls out toward Max, happiness coursing through his words, “You coming in, mate?”
Max glances between you and Daniel before quickly taking a few steps to cut in front of you just as your about to enter the heart of the ship.
“Hi, Max,” you smile cheerfully, no idea what was in store for you in the coming moments.
“Forgive me,” Max mumbles as your furrow your eyebrows.
“What?”
Before you can even ask for clarification, Max scoops you up in his arms and starts to walk back toward the water.
“Max!” You laugh loudly, arms threading around the back of his neck and tightening as he jumps off the edge, both of you hitting the cold water shortly after.
He can hear Daniel’s nearby laugh even under the water, the sound coming through muffled as he pushes his way to the air above, your arms still intertwined behind his neck. As soon as he reaches the top, he can hear you laugh freely, the loud noise rivaling the beauty of the sunlight above.
“I hate you,” you quiet a bit as you say it, though there’s no venom behind your words. In fact, there’s a toothy grin on your face, accenting the sight of your wet face, hair now soaked and dripping as you try your best to stay afloat.
The water runs down your skin in rivulets, catching the rays of lights from above as it drips down, causing you to glow more than you already did under the Mediterranean sun.
Max hums, “I don’t think you do.”
You quirk your head, eyes narrowing as you look closely at him, “I don’t.”
“Y/N!” Your lean away from Max as your name is called, your attentions being drawn over to Logan who seemed to be attempting to drown Oscar, the Aussie trying his best to fight back. Max watches as Logan goes to speak again, Oscar successfully managing to get away, “We’re gonna do the jet-skis!”
You push away from Max and start to paddle toward the younger drivers, Oscar having started to attempt his revenge on the American. Logan, though, is unfazed by the shorter driver, turning to tackle him as you make your way over.
Max’s eyes stay on you as you swim away, watching as you intervene in the fight, pulling Oscar away. Max can’t help the dopey smile that forms on his lips.
“You like her,” Daniel sings, swimming his way to where Max is leaning against the edge of the boat.
Max rolls his eyes, the smile dropping off his face, “Shut up.”
The hours pass by, your friends eventually being pulled back onto the boat in order for it to set sail back home again.
You all come back together for dinner, sitting around on the deck as you dine. At one point. Lando pelts Oscar in the face with an empty water bottle. Oscar, who wasn’t looking up when it happened, mistakes the thrower for Logan and decides to start fighting him again, Lando sitting back with a grin on his face.
Now that they don’t have to stay relatively sober in order to swim, drinks flow much quicker.
As the sun sets on the horizon, your friends spread out across the boat, relaxation seeping into their bones, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to them.
Max laid out on the lower deck with you, watching as the sky explodes with hues of orange and pink. You both watch the sun lower down, a bottle of champagne laying between you.
Max doesnt think he’d even felt so at peace. Or had such a perfect birthday.
Your peace is interrupted after the sun has fully set, making way for the stars to break through and shine next to the moon above you.
You turn around as you hear a chorus of voices shout loudly, “Happy birthday!”
Your met with Lando standing just a few yards away, a cake held tightly in his hands, a few sparklers and candles sticking out of the top of it.
“Awww,” you laugh, standing up to face your friends, “Please don’t sing.”
This causes a laugh to spread through the group, Lando piping up to respond, “I don’t think that would go very well even if we wanted to.”
You snort, walking over to the cake, looking closely at the words written on top. Max sits back as you walk away from him, standing up after a few moments just to observe.
You look a bit closer at the cake before turning around to face Max again. He raises an eyebrow as you beckon him over, one of your hands swinging out to wave him toward you.
Max isn’t entirely sure why you were interrupting your own candle blowing to call him over but he agrees anyway, making his way to your side.
He glances down at the cake, a grin splitting his face as he reads it.
“Happy Birthday
Max & Y/N”
Max laughs slightly, the alcohol currently coursing through him inhibiting him from feeling any amount of embarrassment at the amount of eyes on him.
You turn and grin at him, the soft light of the candles reflecting off your shining eyes. Even in the dark of the night and with salt water stuck in your hair, Max still thinks you look rather beautiful.
You gesture down at the cake, candles still alight on each half, “You wanna blow out the ones on that side?”
Max doesn’t want to look away from your face but he does eventually manage to pull his eyes away, nodding as he spots the candles. You smile, leaning down toward the cake in Lando’s outstretched hands. Max leans as well, and you both are quick to blow out the candles to the cheers of your friends around you.
Lando walks to put the cake down on a table, leaning over to ask your brother to find the plates and forks. As you move to watch the recording of the small celebration on Logan’s phone, Max walks over to the Brit.
“Thanks for the cake thing,” Max says, picking up an abandoned water bottle and taking a quick swig.
Lando quirks his head, rubbing the back of his neck absently, “Thank y/n, not me. She told me that if I were to, hypothetically, get her a birthday cake, she wanted your name on it as well. All hypothetically of course.”
Max laughs, his face softening when he thinks about your conversation about dropping birthday hints for Lando to pick up on. But from Landos recount, this specific hint was a bit more obvious than the other ones. He turns his head to see you laughing at something Logan had said, Oscar looking closer and closer to sleep as the conversation went on.
Maybe if he’d been completely sober, Max would’ve felt a lot warmer at the thought of you thinking about him even for your own birthday party. But he wasn’t completely sober so the only thought he had when he looked at you was just how pretty you were.
Your brother comes back with plates pretty quickly, Lando cutting pieces in the most even way he can, unceremoniously plopping the largest piece down on your plate with a giggle.
Once everyone’s eaten their cake and properly disposed of their plates, it’s just a waiting game until the boat docks again.
You all lay out on the outer decks of the boat, looking up and watching the stars above you. Max can vaguely hear Daniel’s light snores, signaling the Aussie had fallen asleep from where he laid a few yards away.
Once you do dock, all your friends start to make their way off the boat and back to their own homes. Max watches as Logan carries an inebriated Oscar on his back, the Aussie sporting a brand-new, bright red sunburn on his face.
Lando vaguely follows them, the pair having crashed in his place for the weekend considering neither of them resided in Monaco.
Your brothers take the liberty of waking Daniel up, the driver walking tiredly off the boat.
As the rest of your friends leave, Max is left alone with you on the deck of the boat, the moonlight bouncing off the water and lighting up the space between you.
You’ve got something clutched to your side, Max is too out of it to question it.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Max starts, a genuine smile on his tired features, “I’d probably be sat alone on the sim right now otherwise.”
You laugh, not entirely aware of how much truth there was behind his statement, “I’m glad you came, it was really fun.”
Max hums, an absent smile crossing his face as he gazes softly at yours. He’s too busy looking at you to notice you bring your hand up from your side, a small box clutched in your manicured hands.
“I got you something,” your eyes light up as you push the box toward him, glancing between his face and the small white box, “Happy Birthday, Maxie.”
Max accepts the box, though he shakes his head as he does, “You didn’t have to-“
“No, but I wanted to,” you interrupt quickly, grinning and pushing the box closer to Max’s chest.
Max looks at you for a few seconds longer before glancing down toward the box, his hands moving to open it, the top swinging on its hinge to reveal what’s inside. With the amount of alcohol still in his system, it takes a few tries but he does eventually get it open.
Max freezes as he sees what’s inside.
A bracelet, not unlike one of your own, sits gently in the center of the box. Orange and gold thread twist around to form the circle, the threads shining under the distant street lights. Right where the threads come to an end and meet the clasp, a few small charms are clustered together. Max looks a bit closer at the charms and sees a thirty-three, his initials and, lastly, a small lions head.
When Max doesn’t respond immediately, you seem to assume the worst, words falling out of your mouth in a tipsy ramble as you start to pick at a patch on your skin, “If you don’t like it, that’s fine, really! I should’ve asked. Is it too much? I should’ve done one instead of thirty-three, I’m sorry max-!”
Your voice cuts off abruptly as Max’s hands wrap gently around the side of your face, the bracelet being shoved into his pocket. Your eyes widen under his touch, looking up into his own. Max takes a breath before speaking, liquid confidence fueling his words, “Can I kiss you?”
Your mouth opens and closes a few times, seemingly searching for words you cannot find before it ultimately falls shut. You nod your head instead.
Max leans down to capture your lips in his, your hands moving to tug gently at his salty hair. Max grins against your mouth before he dives back in, one of his hands sliding to tug your form closer to his. Max feels almost light-headed, the spark of your lips against his causing his brain to practically short-circuit.
When you split to take a breath, you lean your forehead against his. Max’s opens his eyes to glance warmly at your flushed face. When your eyes fall open and lock on his, you lean away, a loud laugh echoing from your lips.
You gaze over him as he brings you back close to him, your hands clasping behind his neck. Your thumb rubs passive circles on his skin as he goes to speak.
“Thank you,” Max says, bringing your attention back to his face, “For the bracelet. It’s perfect.”
You hum, lips turning up into a blushing smile, “I’m glad you like it.”
Max looks down at you with stars in his eyes, watching the way the moon light shines off the side of your face, your features looking even more striking under night sky, “I do. I really, really do.”
At his words you tug him down toward you, leaning your face up to kiss him again.
Just as your lips brush, a loud voice shouts out from off the boat, “Y/N! We’re leaving! If you don’t come now you’ll have to get your own car!”
You groan loudly, shoulders sagging as you rest your forehead against Max’s chest, eyes locked on the ground. Max has to struggle to hold back his laugh, his teeth sinking into his lip. Watching your despair, Max is struck by an idea.
“You could stay with me?” Max suggests, grinning as your head pops up.
“Could I? I don’t want to deal with Logan and Oscar, especially not while hungover,” you brighten as you ask him.
Max, instead of answering, grabs your hand, pulling you off the boat. You speed up for a few steps in order to fall into his side, his arm coming up to wrap around your shoulder.
As Max leads you up toward the street, you’re met with Lando stood at the open car door, tiredness clear in his stance. If Max were to lean forward, he’d see Oscar and Logan passed out, limbs tangled in the cramped seats.
“You coming then, mate?” Lando asks you, pushing his glasses up on his face. Max isn’t entirely sure why he was still wearing sunglasses in the dark of the night but he chose not to question it.
You flush, leaning into Max’s grasp, “I’m staying with Max.”
Lando smirks, raising his glasses to look between the two of you with a nod, “Don’t have too much fun tonight.”
You roll your eyes, leaning out of Max’s grasp. Max finds himself missing the feeling of your body next to his. He doesn’t have to miss it for too long, though, as after you plant a gentle kiss on Landos cheek, you fall right back into Max’s hold.
“Thank you for the party, Lan. Love you.”
Lando rolls his eyes, sliding his glasses back down his face as he shakes his head, “Yeah, yeah, love you too. I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow, you should bring your boyfriend.”
It Max’s turn to blush, a chuckle leaving his lips. Instead of replying, you both walk away from the Brit, Max laughing loudly when he hears Lando mumble something about “birthday shagging” from behind your backs.
You both continue to walk away, Max bringing you closer to his side and your head falling against his shoulder.
Max leans over to press a kiss to your temple, your skin warm against his lips, “You ready to go home?”
You pause, looking up at Max as he looks down at you. You state warmly up at him for a few moments, simply taking in the look on his face. Your smile widens as your cheeks flush, “I’d love to.”
—————————————
Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119
#scheduled#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x reader#max Verstappen x fem!reader
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Such A Mystery - Part 11
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)
Summary:
Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.
Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.
The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby.
Warnings:
Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.
Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 11 of 12!
Chapter 11
His sister's screams were bloodcurdling.
Charles had known that birth was a painful, messy affair, that it was never easy, but actually hearing his sister’s very real, very painful screams from the room beyond was a truly eye-opening experience. He didn’t know how women could survive this, frankly.
Arthur looked green around the gills, not helped by the white bandage on his forehead…which apparently had been the result of him fainting and being taken down by the corner of a hospital bed.
"I am never having kids," Arthur said, swallowing heavily.
"I am rethinking my family planning as well," Lorenzo said weakly. "I don't think I can stand seeing Charlotte go through that pain."
Arthur grimaced as another scream came ringing out from the room. “I think I am scheduling a vasectomy tomorrow,” he said faintly. “This absolutely confirms it as a good life decision for me.”
"I think that's the concussion talking," Charles tried to assure his brother, as another scream rang out.
On second thought…maybe Arthur was onto something.
And just at that moment, Colette's scream suddenly broke off. They froze—all of them.
Absolute silence rang through the room. Charles was afraid to even breathe. He had no idea what was happening on the other side of the door, and that terrified him. Everything had been going well so far, hadn't it?
And then a cry rang out.
A baby’s cry: shrill, a little indignant.
All three men let out their collective breaths in a sigh of pure relief.
The whole room was silent for a moment, as they processed the fact that their sister and her baby were alright.
“Oh, thank god,” Lorenzo said feebly. “I thought something awful had happened.”
“No kidding,” Arthur agreed. He sagged back against the wall behind him, his skin regaining a proper colour again, instead of the sickly green it had been moments before.
Charles leaned his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes for a brief second. It was over. Everything had gone alright.
Colette and her baby were both going to be okay.
"We are uncles now," Arthur said suddenly.
A beat of surprise. And then:
“Oh god, we are, aren’t we?” Lorenzo said.
“We’re uncles,” Arthur repeated a slightly shell-shocked look on his face.
Charles couldn’t help it. A smile broke out over his face, a very real, utterly ridiculous one that he didn’t have the energy to hold back. “We are, aren’t we?” he repeated Enzo’s words.
“This is absolutely insane!” Arthur said, a grin creeping over his face. “We’re going to be the coolest uncles ever.”
“I thought kids are overrated?” Lorenzo pointed out wryly.
“The most overrated,” Arthur insisted. “But I’m going to spoil our niece or nephew absolutely rotten.”
It took a little while longer, but finally, the door opened, revealing Max. He looked…exhausted. Absolutely beat. There were dark circles under his eyes…but a look of relief was on his face like Charles had never seen on his friend before. And yet, Max was grinning.
Looking happier than ever.
“Max,” Charles said, a little hoarsely. He wanted to ask how they were, he wanted to ask about the baby, he wanted to ask if Coco was alright. But all he could get out was Max’s name, his voice too thick.
"Come meet your niece," Max said simply.
He said the word ‘niece’ like it was the best thing in the world, and it made Charles smile. He straightened up, following Max into the room, Arthur and Lorenzo trailing behind him.
Coco was curled up in her bed, her hair messy, her face pale, but she was smiling, a weak little smile tinged with exhaustion but so very, very happy. And cradled against her chest was the baby, wrapped snugly in a little pink blanket.
Charles just sort of stopped dead in the midst of the room. Seeing his sister with her baby in her arms… it was like his brain had stopped functioning in the space of a moment.
All three brothers were silent for a long moment, just taking in the sight of them.
Charles felt a lump rise in his throat,and swallowed heavily.
Lorenzo was biting his lip, trying to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. And Arthur was absolutely silent, all of the usual sass gone from his expression.
It was a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, as they all just stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed, just looking.
Finally, Coco looked up at them, and her smile widened faintly. “Well?” she asked. "Cha, don’t you want to hold your niece?"
His heart skipped, and he managed to pull himself forward so he could sit down on the bed next to her. “I get to hold her?” he asked, just to be certain.
"Of course, you do," Coco told him softly. "Here you go."
Charles could hardly believe it as Colette gently eased the baby into his arms, carefully supporting her head. And suddenly he was holding her, his niece, this brand new little life, in all of her tiny, delicate, vulnerable little glory, bundled up in a soft pink blanket.
"She's perfect," he said softly, swallowing.
She was so…fragile, in his hands. He hadn’t expected her to be that small, somehow. Charles smiled faintly, running his fingers gently over her hair. Her eyes were closed, and one tiny fist was poking out of the blanket.
"Does she have a name yet?" he asked his sister.
"I get to pick," Colette told him with a grin. "Given that Max named the cats after Monaco's nightlife."
Charles had to admit that was a fair point.
“What, you aren’t going to let Max name your daughter La Rascasse?” he teased Coco who just rolled her eyes. "What have you come up with?" he asked curiously, tearing his eyes away from his niece to look at his sister.
"If she was a boy, I would have named him Emilian Hervé after Papa," Colette said softly. "Sadly that doesn't work for a girl."
Charles smiled faintly at the mention of their father. Their father would have doted on this baby, he was certain. He would have spoiled her absolutely rotten.
"So I figured… somebody else needed to give their name for her," Coco continued. "I hope you don't mind."
"Of course, I don't mind," Charles assured her at once. Why should he? "Whose name did you use?" he wondered.
"Yours, you idiot, Cha," Coco told him, her voice soft. "Charlene Victoria Verstappen. We'll call her Charlie for short."
"Oh my god," Max's sister breathed somewhere behind him. "You.."
But Charles could only stare at his sister…could only feel the lump rise in his throat again. He swallowed hard. “You named her after me?” he asked with a waver in his voice, feeling like his heart might just explode in his chest.
"Of course, I did," Colette said softly. "You're my twin brother, why wouldn't I name my baby girl after you?"
Charles couldn't find any words to answer that with. He couldn't find any words at all. His eyes stung, and he couldn't look at her for fear he might cry. He looked down at the baby. His…god, his niece that was named after him.
He gently ran his fingers over her hair again, marvelling at her tiny, perfect little body. "Hello, Charlie," he said softly, his voice a little choked.
The baby didn't even stir, and Charles smiled, shifting slightly to support her more securely. He couldn't believe that his sister had done this, that she had named her baby girl after him. It made his heart feel like it was fit to burst straight out of his chest, made him try to blink back tears and fail horribly.
"Congratulations, you've made Charles cry," Lorenzo said from somewhere behind him, sounding a little choked himself.
Charles let out a noise that was half-laughing, half-crying as his brothers joined him at his side. "Shut up," he said, his voice rough with emotion.
"Not a chance," Arthur said as he squeezed in next to him to get a better look at the baby. Lorenzo joined him, peering down at the baby in Charles' arms with a strangely soft expression on his face.
"You gave her my name too," Victoria said weakly. Charles looked up at Max’s sister, not knowing what to say. It had sounded so obvious, so natural to hear Colette say it, that Charles had completely forgotten that Victoria shared the same name.
But she did.
"A sibling for each of us," Colette said simply. "Sorry, Enzo, Arthur. Maybe next time.”
“Nah, Arthurelle is a horrible name,” Arthur responded. “Totally see why you went for Charlene.”
Colette laughed, but it was a very weak, exhausted laugh. Charles couldn’t blame her. She must be absolutely wrung out.
And still as he looked at her...as her eyes met his, he could feel how happy his sister. How utterly in love she was with her daughter. How this was everything Colette had ever wanted, and it was right there.
"I am never driving you to the hospital again though, just so you know," Arthur said. “That cost me at least 30 years of my life.”
"But you did so well," Colette teased their younger brother. "Thank you for that, ma petite puce."
Arthur grimaced faintly, but he looked too tired and happy to actually bite back. Charles smiled faintly at all of them in turn.
Charles‘ eyes snagged on their mother.
"Well, Grand-Mère," he teased her. "How does it feel?"
For a long moment, their mother simply looked at the baby in Charles’ arms with an unreadable expression on her face. And then her expression slowly shifted into a smile. A true smile. A happy, proud Grandma smile.
“Your father would be so proud of you all.”
#max verstappen fanfiction#formula 1#max verstappen#max verstappen smau#max verstappen fic#f1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfiction#max verstappen fluff#mv1 fanfiction#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fake instagram#f1 smau#max verstappen social media au#max verstappen x reader#mv1 x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#mv1 fic#max verstappen x you#f1 grid x reader#f1 grid fanfiction
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𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 + 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐜 𐙚🧸ྀི
ft. No eul (guard 11) + Se mi (player 380) separately
warnings: suggestive themes but overall fluff
author's notes: thank you guys for the support!! I'm not even a good writer, but I'm glad you guys enjoy my work ♡
𝐍𝐨 𝐞𝐮𝐥 ִֶָ࣪☾.
{Sfw}
𐙚 No eul was hesitant to date you at first, not that there was anything wrong with you specifically. She just didn't want to disappoint you as she has trouble expressing herself. But you reassured her that it was ok to open up to you. It took a while but she eventually did and you two couldn't be happier.
𐙚 You guys obviously met at the amusement park that she used worked at duh. At the time you worked as a kinder garden teacher , bringing the kids to watch the parade. You had lost one of the kids and No eul had found him for you, he was a crying mess but safe nonetheless. Wanting to repay her you suggested to take her out to lunch the next day. She refused at first but soon agreed after you kept on insisting.
𐙚 No eul is pretty protective over you, not that you need it but she feels content on keeping you by her side. Always looking out for you ,if any creepy guy tried flirting with you she'd give them a stern glare and tell them to f off. If they still persisted, que No eul dragging his ass to a dark alleyway to beat him up.
" You didn't have to go that far," you say as you frantically looked around to see if there were any witnesses. "I know , but he deserved it," she simply stated while she headed towards the direction of your shared apartment to blow off some steam.
𐙚 pda isn't really her thing unless she's really pissed at someone flirting with you that she loses her cool and would dead ass look the person in the eyes while kissing you. Other than that she likes holding your hand and giving you small pecks on your cheek/forehead throughout the day.
𐙚 Dating spots/ideas: libraries, your apartment rooftop, cute cafes or sometimes you guys would travel to the countryside.
{Nsfw}
𐙚 oh boy, she's rough and assertive during intimacy. This is mostly due to her personality but she also likes your cute reactions whenever she goes down at you. She's open to anything as long as your OK with it. Lots of bandage and maybe gunplay if she has one. But if you just wanted to go slow and gentle then she will do so.
𝐒𝐞 𝐦𝐢 メ𝟶メ𝟶
{Sfw}
𐙚 Let's be honest , you fell for her first, but she fell for you harder. Se mi's the one who asked you out first cause she found you cute and endearing, something that she's needs in her dull life.
𐙚 A group of gangsters who tried stealing from you which Se mi had noticed when she went by with her motorbike (yes she owns one its canon yall). She stepped in to save you and they ended up in a dumpster. That day was the day you felt a small spark between you both and Se mi felt it too.
𐙚 Omg you guys would definitely go to the nearest animal shelter and adopt a black female kitty. Her name would be Noir cause why not, also she reminds you so much of Se mi. The way the both act and look so similar baffled you but you didn't complain.
𐙚 Se mi would occasionally bring you bouquets of your favourite flowers and would gift you small presents/trinkets that remind her of you. One time she bought you her perfume that she wears so you would smell of her while she was away. Or you'd just steal her clothes (she smells of cherries/smoke).
𐙚 Big fan of pda, she'd have her hands all over you. Whether it was holding your waist/hand or resting her arm over your shoulder, bringing you into her chest. Totally would be smug about it whenever she'd see how flustered you were. If you didn't like pda then she would respect your opinion and stick with just holding your hand.
Dating spots/ideas: motorbike rides. I repeat motorbike ridess. Y'all would deffo be freaky on the bike but you didn't hear that from me. Beach dates, music festivals/concerts, funfairs and rides around the city. If Se mi wasn't broke then she'd take you to fancy restaurants, because you deserve all her love.
{Nsfw}
𐙚 Lordd, she's amazing in bed. Literally knows how to make you come undone with just her tongue and fingers. Would definitely lock eyes with you the whole time she's eating you out. She'd make you have eye contact with hers the whole time otherwise she won't let you cum. Has all sorts of toys to test on you and a special black dildo just for you. Shes never really gotten to this point with other partners so consider yourself lucky. Omg the piercing would just turn you on even more like hello?? She'd use it to her advantage.
"You slut, look at me not the ceiling" she'd drawled, making you whine and forced yourself to look back down at her. She had that damn smirk on her lips while she trusted her fingers into you hitting the right spot , making you squirt all over her face.
Ps. Let me if you guys want more hc's and send more requests if you like my work <3 also like, reblog or follow if you like my content ♡
#squid game#se mi x reader#no eul x reader#squid game season 2#player 380 x reader#squid game fanfic#squid game x reader#ang3ltine
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What are some ways the Mafia crew would try to further woo their dearest love? And in return, what ways could we further endear ourselves to them?
Scary spooky mafia guys...... trying their hardest to woo a pretty human. AGH it hits all the notes!!!!
Horror gets overwhelmed. You make him so happy, so fuzzy, so warm - but he doesn't believe he can 'woo' you. Not when he can't bear his own reflection, not when even his Dust and Killer consider him violent and frightening. Horror believes his affection for you is his only redeeming quality. He doesn't think you'll like him, but he literally can't stop himself from trying, so when he has his heart set on you his methods are... surprisingly slow and tentative. Especially considering how mercurial he usually is. He brings you flowers that made him think of you, he makes you food, he pores over his brother's dating manual and panics when something happens that he hasn't read about. He's nervous to even hold your hand in case he scares you; the other skeletons are so handsome and eloquent and flirtatious, how could he ever compare? If he frightens you off, he'll never get you back. He has to be gentle.
How could you endear yourself to Horror? Tell him how handsome he is. Tell him how often he's charming without realising. Compliment his cooking. It really won't be that hard, he's already head over heels, but hearing that you like him means so much.
Dust... does not struggle with wooing. Sorry Horror. Dust is frightening, certainly, but his quietness gives him an undeniable magnetism. Like a wolf - sure, you can see his sharp teeth when he smiles, you can see the moonlight flash in his empty eyes. But when he draws close... you can't help but want to move nearer, and touch his soft, silver pelt. Compared to the other three, his romancing is much more underhanded, more about you than grand gestures toward you - which can honestly be a relief when you're being pursued by such big personalities. He turns on the charm, talks quietly and sweetly, stands just a little too close to be platonic, rents your favourite movie when you're down, and (most importantly) positioning himself as your friend and confidant against the other bad guys. He clearly doesn't want to be involved with them, and it's easier to keep you close if you trust him more.
Dust is won over by sincere affection and compliments. For all that looming and flirting, he sure does fall apart quickly when you look right into his eyelights and tell him you like having him around. At that point, he's all yours.
Killer firmly believes that if he can make you laugh, he can make you love him. It's all about getting those giggles, baby. Whatever kind of jokes you like is the kind he tells, he's impressively quick on the draw and never runs out of material, on occasion you may have to ask him to stop joking because your cheeks and abdomen hurt from laughing. He's careful not to be too much... he knows when to be bombastic, when to just be a bit silly and teasing, and when to offer a shoulder to lean on because you're not in the mood. His romantic side is obviously going to be in full force - bouquets, sweets, cards, dates - but his number one wooing technique is getting you to smile. The world you've been unwillingly dragged into can be truly terrifying, and even with the skeletons surrounding you, you'll no doubt feel the nerves and pressure. Killer's humour is a welcome distraction.
It's... hard to tell what endears you to Killer. Honestly, it's hard to tell what Killer is ever thinking. How do you know what's real affection, and what's just a way of making you feel comfortable around him? How can you tell when he's not acting anymore? Though, if you look at how hard he's working every single day to make you that little bit happier... maybe it's not possible to be any more dear to him than you already are.
Nightmare likes to throw his money around. He has an incredible skill for catching when you really like something, reading your face for even the subtlest shine in your eyes, and no matter how much you try to cover your reactions he will catch when you want something and buy it for you. ... But that's not his only wooing trick. Nightmare is, to most people, a violent and unpleasant man who lets his temper take him wherever it pleases. But once he understands his feelings for you and fully commits to romance, he's charming. Lethally charming. He was raised a prince, after all, Dream isn't the only one who has a way with words. You'll start a simple conversation with him, and then you blink and you're sitting on his desk in his study telling him things you've never told anyone. You'll go to him specifically trying not to be swayed - and then when you snap back to reality the two of you are sharing a very luxurious bottle of wine in his room and you've just agreed to be his plus one to a gala this weekend. After all, if he wants to buy you another eye-wateringly expensive necklace, he's going to have to convince you to try some on first.
Nightmare appreciates any attempt to get to know him. His whole life, he's felt like he's living in Dream's shadow, so when you try to actually understand and learn about Nightmare he gets as flattered as he does flustered. Find out about his favourite painters and musicians, read his favourite books, ask him about himself. No one ever has before.
#llamagines#bad sanses#mafia au#being with nightmare is like suddenly waking up from a crazy night out#except instead of waking up in bed with a hangover#you wake up listening to an orchestra from a private booth. wearing jewellery that costs twice your old rent
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mirror muscles ⭑.ᐟ na jaemin
pairing: na jaemin x gender neutral reader
word count: 2.7k
tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, suggestive, gym talk(?)
summary: doing your new resolutions with jaemin has always worked in your favor, most goals ticked off your lists. however, when you mention going to gym, jaemin's enthusiasm reaches new heights.
notes: hiyaaaa! it feels like forever since i last posted (two days omg 🙄) but i do hope you pretty stars enjoy this very indulgent fic! as an aspiring gym girlie, i'd do anything for this kind of princess treatment (particularly from jaemin 😋) also, the title of this is based on the soft play song with the same name (emo jisung, lemme give u some music recs). ok, i think i'm done here. wishing u all the best, much loveeee! <3
Note to self: never, under any circumstances, tell Jaemin your New Year’s resolution. Because one peek at your ambitious list and Jaemin will pry you from your warm bed, at the ass crack of dawn (might you add) to go to the gym because ‘nothing beats a morning pump.’
If you weren’t stupidly in love with him, you would’ve dropped a dumbbell on his toe.
How you get to this point is a lot more wholesome. Since the start of your relationship, once snow trickles down for Christmas, you two sit at your dining table with your laptops opened on Pinterest and pin-point what goals you'd like to achieve the following year. This way, you’re not shouldering your ambitions alone, having each other every step of the year as you tick off box after box. So far, you’ve managed to complete most of your goals. Go traveling, learn a new language, cook more home-cooked meals, limit screen time (still working on that) and many more. Jaemin was also progressing well: dedicating more time in his photography, reducing his coffee intake, going to bed earlier and visiting his mother more.
For this year’s moodboard, while collecting pictures of your next set of goals, fitness content shows up in your recommendations. People in pilates studios in their pastel pink gym-sets. The aesthetic draws you in, how content people feel moving their body besides getting their 10k steps a day in. More photos start showing up, people sculpting their pride in the gym, sharing personal stories of their fitness journey and how the gym has taught them so much about themselves. What they’re capable of, what they never thought they could do and what opportunities lie await now that they’re happier in themselves. It all seems promising, even more so when you reconsider how bright your best friend’s life’s become since making the choice. She’d rarely accompany you to a game of badminton and now she’s pioneering her own run-club, amassing a social media following the size of an army.
You’d have to ask her how to get started once she’s back from her influencer trip (maybe content creating is something you needed to hop on). Then again, peering over your laptop screen to Jaemin’s glowing face, you could simply ask him. He’s been consistently going to the gym for a while now, to the point where you fake-pleaded for SM to close their gym because your boyfriend's become too buff for you to function. He’s always been gorgeous, with a face that could charm a snake, but now that he’s carved like a Renaissance sculpture, you couldn’t form a coherent sentence around him. Of course, aesthetic reasons are what lured him into the space, but he relays it’s become a lot more than that for him.
“I want to be strong, not only to build my confidence but to also protect my loved ones,” he looks directly at you, a serious hue to his eyes that has you breathless. “It’s another form of self-love, is my thinking. Showing up for myself, proving I can do hard things, even when I don’t want to. That I can step out of my comfort zone, trying new things and ultimately, living a longer life. Because at the end of the day, as much as I do this for me, I also do it so I can help you carry groceries. So that I can move furniture around when we move in together, be the one that my family calls if they need something physically demanding done,”
Fondness curves his lips, a flicker of timidity dart his eyes down to the desk before they flicker back up at you, astoundingly earnest as he says, “I’d also want to keep up with our kids. Carry them when they’re tired or run after them in a park. Those are my reasons.”
Something stutters in your chest. Then, leaps. Over the course of your three year relationship, it’s only natural that topics like this are mentioned, like marriage and children. Heck, you two shared a Pinterest board of decor ideas for the shared apartment you’d been on the lookout for. So, it shouldn't phase you but it does. How far into the future he sees with you. How he shares a bit of himself so effortlessly, in a way that lacks pressure and possesses good faith. Love and promise. All prominent themes throughout your relationship, one you thank your lucky stars for.
As a consequence, you flush. Folding like the early days of your relationships. “You’re getting bold these days. We haven’t even moved in together.”
“All in good time, angel,” he grins, looking a bit lovesick. “In any case, if this is something you wanna do, I’d be more than happy to help. Go to the gym with you so you don’t feel anxious, show you how to use the machines, get you workout clothes - whatever you want.”
You could marry this man.
You extend your arm across the wooden table, hand finding his as your fingers interlace, the same song and dance you’d hope you’d spend your life doing. “Thanks, baby.”
And now? Now, divorce weighs heavily on your mind.
In an effort to avoid the New Year’s crowd, Jaemin wakes you up early in the slum of days after Christmas where time doesn’t exist, cuddling into your half-sleeping figure with a gentle voice. Coaxes you to get up, slip on the new gym clothes you’d spent on his card (his treat, he said) and somehow, here you are, stinging eyes squinting under fluorescent lights with some EDM track playing faintly in the background.
“Oh, baby. Don’t look so down, you’re in good hands,” Jaemin coos, hand squishing your cheeks under your chin before pulling you into his chest, warm and comforting. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Couldn’t this wait until,” you glance at your fitness tracker, your own treat to yourself. “Midday? No one needs to be here at 9 am.”
“Maybe, but it’s a good way to start your day. Or get it out of the way,” he chuckles, spinning you out his arms before he wiggles his eyebrows. “Plus, who doesn’t want to see my muscles first thing in the morning?”
He drives home his point by kissing his bicep, something that should make you cringe out your skin or disappear without a trace, but no. Perhaps you’re still sleepy, shielding a snicker with your hand because of how lame (said adoringly) he is.
“You said you’d usually start off with thirty minutes on the treadmill, right?” You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you. I’ll run for fifteen and row until you're done. So you don’t constantly have me in your ear.”
You laugh, because as grumpy as you’d been on the way here, you could never grow tired of him. All his carefree and mischief nature, his sweet and generous manner - you couldn’t even if you tried.
Few people populate the modern gym, near to none in the cardio section as Jaemin refreshes your memory on all the buttons before you begin. Beside you, he does sporadic sprints, no heavy breaths clouding his chatter with you. You, on the other hand, keep it relatively reserved for your first time, upping the speed when you want to challenge yourself, surprising yourself with the distance and time that flies by. Soon enough, Jaemin’s squeezing your hand and moving a few rows back where the rowing machines are, leaving you with your walking playlist.
Again, in a flash, time passes by, upbeat songs blaring in your headphones that make you dance through the next fifteen minutes, a simmer of sadness coming when you’ve reached time with a whole host of songs still in the queue.
“You can listen to them next time,” Jaemin winks before leading you into a dark, LED room dotted with mirrors and yoga mats. This is one of the rooms booked for classes, but for now, it’s your stretching area where you cycle through some stretches and Jaemin jokes about folding you like a pretzel.
The one other person in the room - a woman in her thirties - coughs, before smirking your way, the heat of your embarrassment migrating to your cheeks as you swat at Jaemin. He simply laughs, stretching to reveal his happy trail and suddenly, you forget why you’re even mad.
When you’re finished, he shows you different sections - an assortment of cable machines, the weights area and then to an area with more machines. There’s a few people occupying the machines, immersed in their own world with flushed cheeks and sweat seeping into their clothes. It fills you with relief, that no one’s focused on you and your sweating figure as if you had ‘gym newbie’ written across your forehead. Jaemin shows you some of the machines he uses, depending on what he wants to work out but for the most part, lets you decide what machines you’d want to use - if any.
“Why do I need to put on muscle? You putting me in a headlock is good enough.” You fake-complain, feeding off the gentle approach Jaemin’s taken in trying to convert you to a gym rat.
“And you say I’m the dirty one,” he tsks with a matching grin. “You don’t need to do anything. All I’m doing is showing you the options you have. The more things you try, the more likely you’ll find something you lik-”
“Is that the slut machine?”
Jaemin’s head jerks back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “What are you talking about?’
“This one,” you approach the machine closeby, pointing to the photo attached along with its actual name - hip adduction. “Isn’t this the one where people like, open their legs like crazy?”
Jaemin shakes his head, amusement in the smile he swipes with his hand. “Yes, it is. Wanna give it a go?”
“Hell yeah,” you climb into the machine in a rush, finding the experience more exciting than scary as Jaemin makes sure everything is in order. “This is gonna be hilarious.”
“I’m setting it to a low weight. If it’s too easy, we’ll move it upwards and try and find your range,” he comments, looking at you through his silver hair. “You ready?”
“Ready,” and you go, the weight moving like nothing, so much so that when it sets back to its original position, you’re more caught off guard by how far apart your legs are spread. “This is so raunchy, ohmygod.”
“Good thing it’s facing the wall,” Jaemin laughs at you shielding in between your legs. He ups the weight, the number looking a lot scarier than anticipated. “Let’s try this then. You should be able to rep 10 of these.”
You shuffle, a bit unconvinced. Taking a breath, you engage the machine, exerting more effort than before but managing to do one rep. Then two, then three all the way up to ten. Enough to challenge you, but not strain you.
Jaemin howls, pinching your cheek as he says, “Look at you go! That was great.”
“Thank you,” you huff, the tingle in your thighs somehow the source of the happiness in your chest. “That was really fun, actually.”
“Isn’t it?” Jaemin smiles, using some paper towel to wipe after the machine for you. “Usually people do about three sets of those. Reps depend on what you want to do - build endurance, muscle strength, all that. But that was really great, I’m so proud of you.”
And you feel proud of yourself too. Having tried something new, feeling unsure but leaning into the feeling. Letting yourself see how far you can extend yourself, pleasantly surprised with the distance.
So, this was what Jaemin was on about.
You continue your morning like this, getting a personalised tutoring session in how certain machines works and what areas they work out. Jaemin runs through his leg day, since you two were on the hip adduction machine, enjoying more exercises like leg press and goblet squats. By the time you get to the hip thrust machine to try, someone’s occupying it. Jaemin suggests using the squat rack, the scary thing with a long barbell and weights attached to it. Sensing your apprehension, Jaemin lets you know he’s got you, coaching you through the exercise and any queries you may have about movement or positioning. Eventually, it’s your turn to lean against the incline bench and despite your fear, you work your way through 8 hip thrusts. You don’t nearly enjoy it as much as people online talk about it, which Jaemin says,
“That’s perfectly fine. There’s so many exercises that work the same areas. You’ll find one you prefer.”
Finished for your session, Jaemin asks for you to hold tight while he does some deadlifts. It’s maddening watching him pick up such heavy weights, concentration knitting his eyebrows together with his exposed arms flexing under the tension. Wearing a sleeveless top for the gym in theory is great, but for your mental health? Bad, so bad.
Because even if your body rings with exhaustion, the kind that’s refreshing and ensures a peaceful slumber, you’re about ready to jump his bone.
Ill with lust, as you’d joke.
Jaemin snickers, snapping his waist belt off with one hand, which shouldn’t be sexy but is. Your eyes then trail to the barbell, the memory of Jaemin’s set vivid in your mind.
“Did you wanna try it?” Jaemin asks, reading your mind. “We can start off with no weights. Just the barbell. There’s also different variations of a deadlift, let’s see which one you prefer.”
Out of the three, you pick the most conventional one to start with, teeth sinking into your bottom lip at what you’ve gotten yourself into. Particularly after Jaemin loads weights on each end when you've rehearsed with the barbell.
“Think of the barbell cutting your feet in half - not standing too close so that your shins are touching it and not too far away that you have to lean to grab it,” Jaemin coaches, your feet shuffling into the right position. “Nice. Let’s move onto the hinge movement,”
From behind you, his hands settle onto your hips, pulling them back with him. He pats them, a chuckle left in his wake as he steps to your side to demonstrate without overly being horny.
Bastard.
“Like you just did, you’ve gotta hinge your hips backwards until you can’t hinge anymore. Then, you’ll move a little into your knees, like a squat almost so you can grab the barbell,” you follow along, the barbell cold against your hands as you blow a breath.
“Great. Keep your body tense, engage your core and glutes. No arch,” his hand hovers over the arch of your back, something teasing in his smile. “Show your chest, keep your head up straight and lift the barbell up. Remember to keep it close to your body before you lower it down with the same hinge movement and movement into your knees.”
You puff out another breath, the same fear you’ve conquered throughout the session whirring in your chest.
“Don’t worry, angel,” Jaemin smiles, moving behind you again with hovered hands around your figure. “I’ve got you. You’ve got you.”
Again, his words dawn on you. All the power in your hands, a feeling your heart wants nothing more than to run towards as you lift up the barbell, strength personified as you wait at the top of your stance, smiling at the “Let’s fucking go, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, angel!” in your ear. You hinge backwards, the weight knocked down to the floor with no tension on your back as expected.
Once you’re upright again, Jaemin engulfs you in a backhug, lifting your figure off the floor and kissing your neck, drawing giggles out of you. Joy moves through your body like warm light at his excitement that exceeds your own, belief not setting in quite yet.
“I can’t believe you,” he coos, the mirror ahead of you capturing the embrace he holds you in, the elation in his eyes as he does nothing but adore you. Like he’s always done. “Actually, I can. You’ve got a laundry list of things you’re good at. Can you believe it?”
“Not originally,” you admit, the confession somewhat bittersweet. “But after this, I think I’d better have more faith in myself.”
Fondness finds itself in his lips again, a kiss against your cheek as he gently guides you out the way, lifting the barbell onto the rack with his gaze in the mirror directed to yours.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
And you fall into laughter, helping him slid off the weights before flexing in the mirror like you wanted, finding a different strength in yourself with Jaemin by your side.
#nct dream fic#jaemin x reader#nct jaemin#na jaemin#nct dream fics#na jaemin x reader#nct dream#nct dream x reader#nct dream fanfic#nct dream fluff#na jaemin fluff#na jaemin imagines#na jaemin x you#jaemin fluff#jaemin imagines#jaemin x you#nct jaemin x reader#sungiescheotluv fics ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱
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About Tradition and Responsibility
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x WifeF!Reader
Summary: You, a non-Jujutsu sorcerer, married the Gojo Satoru. After having your first child, the higher-ups demand to meet you and your first born son.
Warning tags: protective!Satoru, tiny angst if you squint, non-jujutsu sorcerer reader, no y/n usage
Author's Notes: hiii, i wrote this based on my own post, having one of my favorite tropes (protectiveness)! this might have a second part i haven't wrote yet, we shall see. enjoy your reading!
You keep your head down, trying to focus on the peaceful expression of the baby in your arms, your first newborn son, Kotaro. He is perfect, from his white curls to his tiny toes. You can't help but give him a small smile, your hands gripping his little body, promising silently to always protect him from any harm in the world. You feel so much love for your son that it is difficult to understand anyone who could find his existence wrong due to one ridiculous minuscule detail: when Kotaro opens his eyes, they are your eye color. Not your husband's vivid, ethereal blue eyes.
Because of that, Kotaro Gojo is considered a waste of time—almost a mistake, but no one would dare say that in front of you or his father.
The door in front of you opens, and an older lady announces that the elders are ready to see you. You get up from the bench, bringing Kotaro closer to your chest.
It is finally time to face your curses.
-x-
When Gojo Satoru decided to marry a non-jujutsu user, the higher-ups thought it was a joke. A good one especially coming from Gojo, who was known to do anything to piss off the hierarchy of the Jujutsu world, as if Satoru's whole existence wasn't on top of all that, as if any of those ancient and outdated men had anything to complain about the woman he chose as his wife.
However, when Gojo decided to proceed with this marriage, most were still shocked. They never thought Gojo would marry anyone, so soon, interest spiked in the mysterious woman he decided to marry.
You wish you could tell your first meeting with the strongest sorcerer had been something glorious, but no. It was in your small candy shop, the one passed down to you by your parents from their parents. On a rainy day, that strange tall man with white bandages and white hair entered, sniffing the air like a hound dog. Gojo insisted on buying all the sweets you had on display, and instead of leaving, heard you explain how you made each of them, fascinated.
After that day, Satoru started appearing daily, buying all the sweets on display by the end of the day. Gojo always mentioned he first fell in love with your cooking, but you didn't know when exactly you fell in love with him. Maybe it was the comfort of having someone understand those sudden chills around your body as if something had been watching you until Satoru entered the shop. He never found that weird at all.
At first, Gojo kept you away as best as he could. You could sense curses with a chill in your body but couldn't see them (a blessing, for what Gojo described sometimes). And since you met your now-future-husband, as powerful as you could remotely grasp he was, Gojo was also the silliest and most annoying man you ever met. If you got upset with something he did for any reason, he would not leave you alone until you reassured him you weren't mad anymore. On top of that, Satoru was easily manipulated with sweets. Again, a big grown baby.
He never shared the consequences of what it meant to marry him. The letters started coming two months after the marriage, with your name on them, presenting themselves as chairpeople of the Jujutsu Sorcerers, and they were eager to meet you whenever you could. Gojo always told you to ignore those letters, throw them in the trash, and burn them if you wanted.
Then Kotaro was born. It had been a normal pregnancy, with the usual sickness in the morning and mood swings, but at least your baby was born healthy. You couldn't be happier, and Gojo couldn't be happier. The baby not having the same blue eyes didn't concern your husband, reassuring you that everything was fine.
Until it wasn't: the letter that made you come into this meeting with the elders without your husband's knowledge had a clear underlying threat in those polite words: You were to bring Kotaro for them to look at, or they would be forced to bring you in. Gojo had shielded you from this for far too long.
As soon as you enter the oval room, you notice the covers: you can't see any faces, but you are sure all stares are on you and your baby. Kotaro rubs his face against your chest, and you bring him closer, shielding him from their judgmental glances.
"Come forward." A masculine voice demands.
You walk in the middle of the room and stop. No one speaks.
"You wanted to see me?" You ask, surprised your voice isn't trembling. You wonder if they can hear your heart exploding in your chest.
"Yes. We never had the chance to meet with the wife of Gojo Satoru; he has kept you hidden for a long time."
"I am sure he had his reasons."
"Not that it matters who Gojo Satoru decided to marry, but his decisions impact the Jujutsu World, wanting or not." An older voice speaks, clearly angry with your disobedience.
"And who would stop him from making those decisions?" You question, trying to sound courteous but instead sounding resentful. Satoru has told you about these higher-ups: focused on their old ways, not allowing anything that disturbs their way. Only their way is correct. Tradition. Anything that breaks from the fine formal line should be eliminated. "No one can stop Gojo Satoru from doing what he wants. As his wife, I should be the first one to know."
Silence. You breathe deeply, part of you still fearful of what is about to come. They have yet to speak about Kotaro, so you dread the inevitable moment. Now, something deep inside of you screams you should have told Satoru. What if you walked straight into a trap?
"Your child." A third voice speaks, and the whole atmosphere of the room seems to change when he mentions your son. You grip Kotaro's small body again, ready for what will come. "He does not possess the same eyes as his father, as we can see."
"So? It is not like every single member of the clan was born with six eyes." You ask defiantly.
"Of course not," The man snickers. "But this is Gojo Satoru's son. Haven't you thought about the consequences of having a child with a man like that?"
"Satoru keeps us safe! And if he isn't here, I keep my child safe. Never underestimate the love a mother has for her child."
"There is no doubt in a mother's love for her child. There is also no doubt that some might carry a heavy hatred for Gojo Satoru. If, for some reason, you were caught vulnerable…"
"What? What are you talking about?" Your voice shakes a little, but you keep yourself steady. For Kotaro.
"Many curses and even sorcerers have hidden and disappeared because of Gojo. Many fear him. When your husband was born, he altered the balance of our world. If there is an even remote possibility Gojo can't defend himself or, even worse, if you get pregnant again and this baby comes with six eyes…we can't even imagine how bad it would be the repercussions." The tone of false concern disgusts you. Sensing your uneasiness, Kotaro starts whining, and you start rocking him.
You are not stupid. Those men didn't care about you or your baby's safety. They wanted six eyes that they could control, nothing else, nothing more. You haven't given any proof that you are worthy of being married to Satoru.
You don't get to answer because the door behind you opens, and all eyes are directed to the man behind you. You don't even have to turn around, your sixth sense telling you: Satoru. And he is pissed. He takes a moment to analyze the room in front of him, seeing you in the middle with your son in his arms, crying. His son crying. Gojo walks in, no blindfold on, without asking for permission (not that anyone was waiting for one), and ignores everyone as he stops right before you.
His blue eyes scan you and Kotaro from the top of your head to the feet, concerned.
"Are you okay? Is Kotaro okay?" Satoru asks in a gentle tone, ignoring anyone around. You nod, starting to form an apology, but he shakes his head, calming you. "There's nothing to apologize for. You did well. You always do well. Stand beside me, okay?"
You nod as Satoru forms a shield between you and the higher-ups. Surprisingly, Kotaro has stopped whining, feeling his dad is close by. No one speaks, and everyone seems to be holding down their breaths.
"So," Satoru's tone is calm, "who cares to explain how my wife and son ended up here?"
No answer comes, and you can sense the fear over the room, which differs from your husband's posture. Those who don't know him might believe in Satoru's calm posture, but you and probably the rest of the elders knew this was only a façade. In Satoru's veins, there is only anger. The only reason any of those higher-ups are still alive is because of your and Kotaro's presence. Not because Satoru would hurt you or his son if he had to kill them, but because he didn't want to shock you or accidentally make you fear him. You had never seen him kill before.
You don't know yet what lengths he would go to protect you and his child.
"We were just worried about her well-being, that's all." Some brave higher-up answers and Gojo snickers.
"Oh? More worried than her husband then?"
"You know, we had to meet her eventually. You kept her away from our world, your world, for far too long."
"And she was fine until you brought her into this. My wife and my son are none of your concerns."
"Not if she births a child with six eyes. Then it is our concern." Your body tenses behind Gojo, immediately causing him to react back, his murderous energy filling the room. If you felt it, those elders felt it as well, silencing them.
Kotaro starts crying again, sensing the threatening energy in the room. You had never felt such a destructive sensation coming from your husband before, but you managed to grab Satoru's arm.
"'Toru? Kotaro is scared." And you are scared.
The energy instantly leaves, and Satoru turns around, worried. You tremble with fear, and Kotaro bawls, tears dropping from his eyes. He instantly places his black blindfold on his eyes before taking Kotaro from your arms and gently rocking him.
"Can we leave, please?" You ask, and Satoru nods, grabbing your hand with his free one. Before turning around to leave, he announces in a frightening tone to the entire room, "If I ever hear any of you trying to make any sort of contact with my wife or son, I won't be so merciful."
With that, Gojo Satoru pulls you away from that horrible place you promised to never see again.
-x-
Satoru dismisses the driver who drove you there. Instead, he takes you to his car, finding Kiyotaka Ijichi with a nervous smile when he sees you. You manage to smile back, and Ijichi seems relieved that you and Kotaro are okay. The ride home is silent, and Satoru never lets go of your hand. Kotaro is in the other one, sleeping safely in his arms. You can't bear to look at your husband, too afraid of what you are about to see: disappointment? Anger? He would be right to feel like that. You endangered not only yourself but Kotaro in this whole situation.
After Ijichi leaves you at home, you gently take a sleepy Kotaro away from your husband's arms. Satoru had this enchantment with your son, making him feel calm and safe. Like mother like son, you guess. You place Kotaro gently on his mat, watching as he gets comfortable. How careless of you to put your son in such a dangerous situation.
"Do you want to talk about this?" Satoru whispers, and you shake your head.
"I am sorry." To Kotaro. To Satoru. To yourself. "I thought I could—"
Satoru slowly closes the proximity between you two. He waits, watching the tears flowing down your eyes, sitting at your side, and when you hide your face on his shoulders, his arms are around you, bringing you to his lap.
"You had no idea."
"I endangered our son! Do you know how serious that is?"
"You would never let them do anything to him."
"How would I even stop them, Satoru?"
"I don't know, but I know you. You would find a way." Satoru simply shrugs, which sounds to him like the most obvious answer, and you don't know if you laugh or cry or his hopes on you. "Which would involve bringing me there."
"Yes, bring my most dangerous weapon: Satoru Gojo." You two chuckle low so you don't wake up Kotaro.
"Nothing will ever happen to you or Kotaro. I won't allow it. Be sure of it."
"They said you have enemies…"
"Who wouldn't dare to lay a finger on one stray of Kotaro's hair. Or yours. Come on, you don't have some faith in me?"
Remembering the amount of energy you felt earlier, you feel a chill pass your body. "I do, 'Toru. I was crazy enough to marry you."
"And would you lose the chance to be the luckiest woman alive?"
"With the most pretentious husband ever." You roll your eyes, feeling happy inside. The earlier one may have scared you. But you know this Satoru, back to his usual pretentious self.
You get more comfortable in Satoru's lap, your eyes never entirely leaving Kotaro. He looks so peaceful with his eyes closed like that; he is Satoru 100%, except for his eyes. What blame did he have? You vowed to protect and love him as soon as he came out of you, no matter what came after him. And by the looks on Satoru's face, he also does.
Slowly, you can feel your eyes getting heavy as you become more comfortable in Satoru's arms—like a mother, like son.
"Rest, my love. I will take care of it all. I will never leave you, I promise."
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x you#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru fanfic#gojo satoru fanfics#satoru gojo fanfic#satoru gojo fanfics
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Warning: Contains explicit content.
Thinking about !satosugu, who are not only your boyfriends but also your best friends, and !name, a famous screenwriter who writes inappropriate stuff as practice for their craft.
!satosugu, where Satoru has to leave for a business trip for his father's company in two days and tries to spend as much time as possible with you two.
!satosugu, where Suguru is incredibly busy finishing a tattoo design that he needs to deliver to a client in a few hours.
!name, who really needs to finish the script for that episode — it’s the second season of the series, and the first was a huge success. You're so close to finishing the script, so why are you writing such an explicit adult fanfic?
That’s exactly what Suguru is wondering as he sets aside the iPad he was using for his drawing, now resting on his lap, while leaning over your right shoulder to read what you're typing on your computer. Meanwhile, Satoru is literally lying on your left side with a bag of chips in hand, closely reading everything you’re furiously typing on your laptop.
!satosugu, who can’t even remember if they had anything else to do, simply letting themselves get caught up in the story you're writing. You barely finish typing a sentence, and they’ve already read it.
!satosugu, who are completely absorbed by your story about two neighbors with immense sexual tension, where the !olderneighbor sleeps with her as a way to thank her for taking such good care of his nephew. Suguru can't wrap his head around how you, one of the most critically acclaimed screenwriters of recent times, are writing this. Satoru, on the other hand, has never been this entertained. Of course, neither of them dares to say a word so as not to disturb you.
!satosugu, who start losing their minds when the !olderneighbor uses a popsicle to have sex with the girl. A popsicle. They simply can’t believe the direction your mind has gone.
!satosugu, who pay attention to every—yes, every single—detail, intending to use them with you later. After all, if you’re writing this and letting them see it, it must mean you wouldn’t mind if something similar happened to you, right?
!satosugu, who, as soon as you finish writing, head out to buy a popsicle, specifically a coconut-flavored one.
!satosugu, who may or may not have you spread open on the bed, crying, with a popsicle buried inside you. Maybe. Maybe not.
!Satoru, who goes on his business trip happier than ever and hopes it goes by quickly so he can return to you both as soon as possible.
!Suguru, who finishes the tattoo design as fast as possible so he can dive deep into all the stories you read. Not that he’s grabbed your phone to check out your account or the stories you’re into or anything.
!satosugu, who might have started following you on your anonymous story account with anonymous accounts of their own.
Note: Maybe I’ll write the story about the !olderneighbor.
Hope you enjoy it.💞💞
#jjk#jjk smut#satoru x you#satoru x reader#gojo satoru fanfic#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#satosugu x reader#satosugu#gojo x reader#gojo smut#jujutsu kaisen#suguru geto x reader#getou suguru x reader#suguru geto smut#geto x reader
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tired eyes [CL16]
charles leclerc x PhD student!fem!reader
word count: 3k
summary: The one where you're exhausted from your studies but you still really want your sweet boyfriend.
warnings: 18+ content!! minors DNI!! sleepiness, mentions of school/exams (lol), kissing, smut, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v (use a rain jacket PLEASE), tiny bit of swearing maybe? praise/worshiping kinda..., unedited :|
author's note: Smut with a fragment of plot. Oops. I'll see myself out. Feedback is really appreciated so please leave any comments/questions you have!!!! [xoxo elle]
It had been a long day. No. It had been a long semester. Your last exam week is finally over. After countless hours of attending class, completing assignments, and studying, you made it to the end of your last year of school. You’d officially earned a PhD.
And you were exhausted.
All but falling into your apartment, you arrive at home in the mid afternoon. Dropping your bag onto the floor, you make your presence known to your boyfriend. Charles texted you earlier that day to tell you he would be dropping by to see you when you were done. This morning, you had been really excited about seeing him and maybe even doing a little celebrating. But that was no longer an option, seeing as you can barely stand up on your own.
“Amour?” Charles' voice rings out from the kitchen.
Tired legs guide you towards him, your eyes drooping and shoulders sagging. When you turn the corner to find him huddled over a small cake, you nearly drop to the ground. He hears you rustling about and turns to you with a huge smile covering his face. His dimples pop, making you melt a little. But, you can’t miss the bags that he too is sporting under his eyes or the way his hair is messy in the truly unkempt way. He looks nearly as tired as you feel.
“I have a gift for you.” Charles says, his voice strained but joyful. Momentarily, he turns away from you to pick up the cake. Once he has it in his hands, he approaches you carefully.
It’s a small, round cake, just big enough for the two of you. The frosting is pink and there are little edible flowers scattered across it. On the top in red, looping letters is congratulations doctor.
A cracked breath leads to a sob. Tears drop quick and hot against your skin.
“Thank you,” You choke out, a hand reaching towards Charles’ face. You can’t see him through your tears, but his concern is palpable. He sets the cake down on the counter, discarding it for the moment being.
Charles’ arms wrap tight around your waist, drawing your body flush to his. Your arms loop under his, resting against his broad back. With your face pressed into his chest, you allow yourself a few moments to just let it all out. It’s been a long road to get here and you’ve finally done it. Charles has been your biggest supporter. You couldn’t be happier to share this moment with him. This is everything to you; he’s everything to you.
Once you’ve cried all of your tears, you take a shaky breath. Your nose fills with the scent of him. A chill runs over your shoulders and down your spine. His grip on you hasn’t loosened. Gently, his fingers flex against your body, lulling your muscles to a relaxed state.
Clarity falls over you as the haze in your eyes disappears. It wasn’t just you who had a long day. Charles was obviously exhausted too, but here he was, taking care of you.
“Charles,” You mumble, turning your face to the side so you can look at him.
“Hmm?” He hums while looking down at you. His hands have started to move up and down your back, caressing you gently.
Pushing yourself up onto your toes, you press a sleepy kiss to his soft lips. His unshaven stubble rubs pleasantly against your face, making you feel perfectly at home. This is your Charles.
One of his hands comes up to rest against the back of your neck, adjusting the angle of the kiss to pull you deeper. Simple, languid sighs escape your lips while you kiss gently. Everything about it is perfect, slow, sensual.
In no universe would you ever grow tired of his kiss. Charles was made for you, and you for him. It’s never been this way with anyone else. Even when you’re both too tired to say anything, you know exactly what the other needs.
And right now, you need him.
“Charles,” You say against his lips, your hand dragging its way around the hem of his pants. “Can you take me to my bed, please?”
Kissing you lightly, he nods his head. Gently, he guides your legs around his hips. Holding you with kind but firm hands, he exits the kitchen and heads for your bedroom.
Your head is tucked into the crook of his neck, blocking out the world around you. You listen to him pad across the apartment, open the door to your bedroom, and then close it.
Gently, he crawls both of you onto the bed. Your head hits the pillows and you let out a sigh. The cushiony warmth of your bed surrounds you, filling you with a relief like none other. Charles leaves you for a split second to turn on your bedside lamp. It casts a warm glow over the room and across Charles’ face, which hovers above you.
With sleepy eyes, you gaze at his beautiful face. Even when he’s exhausted, he still looks like an angel. It’s not fair how gorgeous he is.
Reaching up, you trace along the edges and curves of his face with soft fingers. His eyes slide closed while he relaxes into your touch. It’s so peaceful to be here with him, to be met in this place by him.
Allowing your hand to slip around his nape, you pull him into another kiss. His response is immediate. A hand latches onto your hip, pulling it up to press against him. Your back arches and a gasp escapes your lips. Charles takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You desperately love the way he feels against you. There’s an indescribable friction between you, like a match to a matchbox. Alone, you don’t live up to your full potential, a crucial piece missing. But when you’re together, there’s warmth and flame.
Tentatively, Charles rolls his hips into yours. Sighing into his mouth, you wish you could articulate to him just how much you loved it. He does it again, sending your mind spiraling.
“I need you,” You whisper to Charles as he peppers kisses down your neck. You ghost your hands down his back, letting them come to rest on his lower back. Too tired to pull him closer to you, you let him move at his own pace. Charles hums into your ear, his body pushing down against yours. His weight on top of you feels heavenly, exactly what you needed today–what you need everyday.
Charles’ languid movements accentuate the tenderness of the moment. It’s not lacking passion by any means, but everything about right now expresses the deepness of the affection you hold for one another. It’s slow, sensual, and sleepy.
His kiss works over your lips like the sun over a cool summer’s day. His hands flit over and caress your body like the tide ebbs and flows over the sand of the beach. Charles feels like your personal perpetual light source, constant and intimate and warm. The chill of exhaustion is thawed by simply being in Charles’ presence. Love flows freely through your tired body, bringing a pleasant flush to your cheeks and warmth to every bit of you.
“Amour. Mon amour.” Charles whispers while his lips drag down your jaw. Sighing, your hands knead gently at the lean muscle of his back. Feathery kisses are placed everywhere by your boyfriend as he works his way around your body. Your skin bursts out in goosebumps wherever his lips land.
Silently, you watch as Charles leans back, his weight disappearing from on top of you. You’re about to object when he begins to slip his shirt over his head. The fabric creeps up his torso and you watch in quiet pleasure as he exposes himself to you.
“Like what you see, baby?” Charles teases, his voice soft but gravely.
“Mhmm,” You mumble, not having the energy to tease him back. Reaching your hands out to rest against his bare waist, you’re desperate to have his warm, smooth skin against yours. Charles slides his hands slowly over yours, then down your wrists and up your arms. With strong arms, he lifts you toward him. You oblige, sitting up in front of him. He kisses you once softly while his fingers find the bottom hem of your shirt. Gratefully, you let him slip off the shirt, your bra quick to follow. A small pile of your laundry twisted with his has begun to grow on your bedroom floor.
Gently, Charles holds you in both hands while leaning you back down against the bed. His chest is flush with yours, the skin to skin contact making you blush and sigh. Closing your eyes tight and pushing your head back into the pillows, you wonder how your body is even registering how good this feels while you’re so tired. But you’re not complaining.
“So beautiful, baby.” Charles says, causing you to open your eyes to peer into his green ones. His lips drag down the column of your throat in an open mouth kiss before he gets to your chest. Lazily, he takes one of your breasts into his mouth, his warm tongue swirling around your sensitive nipple. A pinched gasp exits your throat while your hands fly up to tangle in Charles’ fluffy hair. His hands hold fast over your ribs, applying the perfect amount of pressure while he languidly has his way with your chest.
Watching him with silent wonder, your eyes rarely fall away from each other.
“Wanna,” His lips unlatch from your nipple which is stiff with your arousal.
“Make,” He presses a kiss to your sternum.
“You,” His tongue drags down your stomach.
“Feel,” He nips softly at the soft skin of your waist.
“So good,” He presses a soothing kiss to the bite he left.
Absentmindedly, you find yourself nodding, completely transfixed on the man between your legs. He’s everything you could have asked for and more. Sugar sweet, gentle, kind, passionate, funny. There hasn’t been a moment when you were with Charles and there wasn’t joy to be felt. Even on the shittiest days to exist, like today, you both know exactly what the other needs. You complete each other in more ways than one. But right now, you’re desperate for him to complete you in a very specific way.
Charles has made quick work of both your pants and underwear. Lifting your lower back with a hand, he slides a pillow beneath it so you’re already arching upward.
“Comfortable?” Charles asks while his lips glide over your thighs and his hands pull them both over his shoulders. Nodding at him, you watch as best you can as he finally moves his face over your center. Hot breath fans over your sensitive skin, making you groan and arch, your head pushing back into the bed.
“Charles,” His name rolls from your mouth like a prayer when his tongue passes through your folds. Soft hums rumble Charles’ chest when he takes you into his mouth. The vibrations shoot straight through you, causing you to clench your body and gasp.
Your boyfriend goes about his work between your thighs. His tongue circles perfectly around your clit and teases your entrance every once in a while. Flurries of pleasure run rampant in your body, collecting low inside of you. Charles brings pleasure with every touch, every flick of his tongue, every squeeze of his hands on your thighs.
When you feel a finger push inside of you, pumping slow and hard, your body jolts with pleasure. Back arching, you bury your fingers into Charles' hair while letting out a sharp moan.
“That’s it, baby.” Charles says while briefly pulling his lips away from your cunt to press kisses along your sweat and slick soaked thighs. “Such a hard working, good girl. You deserve this.”
His words make you clutch his hair in your hands and moan. Charles returns his tongue to your clit, working it in the way that only he knows how. The sensation of his fingers curling inside of you in tandem with his lips on your clit has you clenching. Your tired body comes alive with the buzz of your impending orgasm.
“Please, Charlie, feels so good.” You beg quietly, your voice coming out tired and needy. Charles speeds up and adds another finger inside of you. He sucks mercilessly on your clit as you unleash a string of stuttering moans and curses.
“So close, baby.” You mumble, unable to speak any louder than a whisper. Charles hears you anyway, both your words and your body telling him how close you are.
“Taste so sweet, my girl.” Charles says while coaxing you to the knife’s edge. With a few more swirls of his tongue and pumps of his thick fingers, your pleasure bursts and releases to your entire body. Shaking and gasping, sparks fly behind your closed eyes. Your legs attempt to snap shut, but Charles’ body stops them from moving. He continues to stroke in and out of you while your body crescendos.
Once you’ve settled back into your own body after the life-altering orgasm you just experienced, your breathing is ragged and you’re still desperate for Charles. Gazing at him with hooded eyes, you don’t miss the way one of his hands is now stuck down his boxers, moving just slightly. His eyes are on you while he pumps himself.
Grabbing his arms with your exhausted and fucked-out hands, you try to haul him back on top of you. Obliging to your wishes, Charles’ hand leaves his boxers so he can crawl up to hover over you. His lips are quick to find yours, letting you taste yourself on his swollen lips. Kissing him slowly, you slip your hands down over his chest and stomach. Without a second thought, you hand pass under the hem of his underwear to wrap around him.
His sharp sigh against your lips has you smiling sleepily. His forehead drops to the crook of your neck as your hand works up and down his erection. His breathing grows choppy as he rolls his hips into your hand, trusting softly.
“Need you inside of me,” You whisper into his ear. His hips stutter as he groans into the soft skin of your neck. Together, you push his boxers down his legs, the final piece of clothing joining your small pile.
Charles’ hands run down your body, caressing your curves as he goes. One of his hands props himself up over you, while the other knocks your bent knee to his hip. Reaching between your bodies, you line him up with your entrance.
You groan in unison as he slides home. Charles takes his time as he pushes into you, relishing the warmth and the tight squeeze of your walls. Ever since you got on birth control, condoms have become a thing of the past. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of having not a single thing between the two of you.
Charles pulls out painfully slow, gliding against you in a tortuous way. The pleasure that trails his moment feels so full and complete, it has your stomach tying in knots. Your fingers dig into his back, your back arching at the sensations fluttering around in your body.
Then when he pushes back in, your world is set on fire. He dives slow but hard into the one place inside of you that nearly makes your scream. Your entire body cries out to him, clenching and singing at the way he feels.
Over and over again, he works himself in and out of you. His pace is sensual and lovely, but equally as damning.
“You’re so tight, baby.” Charles praises breathlessly, his hand tightening around your leg to pull it higher. The angle switches just slightly and he hits a new spot inside of you.
You chant his name, begging him for more, more of whatever he’ll give you. He praises you and you bask in the grunts and moans that spill from his gorgeous lips. Together, you find the perfect rhythm that has you both shuddering and struggling to keep from coming undone.
When Charles guides your leg to wrap around his waist, he uses his free hand to reach between you and resume circling your clit. Moans wrack your body as your legs shake around Charles’ body. You clench around him and feel his pace slipping.
“I’m so close, mon amour.” He tells you while frantically circling your clit, obviously determined to pull you over the edge with him. And it works. Just as soon as you reach your climax, Charles follows, pumping in and out of you sporadically.
Stars spill over your vision as your body buzzes with your orgasm. Charles’ body has flopped down on yours, the perfect thing to pull you back into reality. Lazily, your fingers move up and down his warm back. Exhaustion creeps in once again, threatening to pull you into a luxurious sleep. Charles isn’t helping, his lips pressing his signature soft kisses against your sensitive neck. Everything feels so comfortable and incandescently happy, lulling you toward the peaceful state of sleep you’ve been wishing for. Your hands draw still against Charles’ back while your eyes begin to flutter closed.
“Wait, mon ange. Wake up, beautiful, we have to get you cleaned up.” Charles says while he takes your face in his hands. Groaning, you try to ignore the soft kisses that he leaves on your skin in attempt to keep you awake.
Suddenly, you’re being pulled from the warm comfort of your bed and into the arms of your boyfriend. Curling up into his chest, you flop lazily against him while he brings the both of you into the bathroom.
“I’ve got you, baby.” He whispers into your hair just before you hear the water of the shower turn on. “I’ve got you."
#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc fanfiction smut#charles smut#formula one smut#f1 smut#cl16 smut#charles leclerc fanfic smut#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#f1#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#charles imagine#charles x reader#charles x you#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc angst#formula one fanfiction#charles leclerc fanfiction#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#cl16 x reader
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Maybe pre wedding jitters with Nicole? She kind of steps in as your own mom for the day and reassures you that you're right for Oscar?
pre wedding jitters
pairing: oscar piastri x reader note: thank you so much for requesting this!! nicole would absolutely be the best mother in law
the soft morning light spills through the delicate curtains of the bridal suite, casting a warm glow over the room. you stand in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection in the dress you spent months dreaming about. the lace hugs your figure perfectly, the silk skirt flowing around you just as it’s supposed to. it’s everything you wanted, yet as you stand there, it all feels so overwhelming. today, you’re marrying oscar piastri—the man who’s been your best friend, your rock, and your biggest supporter for the last years.
but as the moments tick by, nerves begin to creep in. your heart races, your hands feel clammy, and suddenly, the reality of it all starts to weigh on you. you stare at your reflection, fidgeting with the delicate necklace oscar gave you on your last anniversary, feeling a wave of doubt you can’t quite shake.
the door creaks open softly, and you expect to see your mom or one of your bridesmaids, but instead, it’s nicole, oscar’s mom. she steps inside quietly, her face lighting up the moment she sees you. she’s always been more than just oscar’s mom to you—she’s been someone you’ve looked up to, someone who welcomed you into the family with open arms from the very start.
she immediately picks up on your nerves, noticing the way you’re wringing your hands and staring at yourself with uncertainty. she crosses the room, her steps quick and purposeful, and places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “hey, you look absolutely stunning,” she says softly, her voice full of warmth. “oscar is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”
you smile, but it’s wobbly, and you can feel the tears threatening to spill. “thank you, nicole. i’m just... i don’t know why i’m so nervous. i’ve been waiting for this day for so long, and now that it’s here, i’m suddenly terrified.”
nicole guides you to the chair by the window, sitting down beside you and holding your hand tightly in hers. “sweetheart, it’s completely normal to feel like this. this is a huge moment, and it’s okay to have a little freak-out.”
you nod, looking down at your lap. “i just keep thinking... what if i’m not enough? what if something goes wrong today, or what if—” you pause, the words getting stuck in your throat. “i love him so much. i just want everything to be perfect for him.”
nicole’s expression softens, and she squeezes your hand, her grip both comforting and strong. “you are more than enough. oscar has loved you since the moment he met you. i’ve never seen him light up the way he does when you’re around. you bring out this side of him that’s so pure, so full of joy. he’s happier, calmer, and more himself with you than i’ve ever seen him.”
she looks at you with a fond smile, her eyes brimming with affection. “i remember him calling me after your first date—he couldn’t stop talking about you. he’d found this person who got him, who made him laugh, who understood him in a way no one else ever had. and it wasn’t just how much fun you had together, it was how deeply he respected you, how much he admired the way you saw the world. he told me then, ‘mum, she’s the one,’ and he meant it with every part of his heart.”
tears slip down your cheeks as you listen, overwhelmed by the love nicole’s words carry. you always knew oscar loved you, but hearing it like this, from his mother, makes it feel even more real.
“and it’s not just that he loves you,” nicole continues, her voice full of certainty. “he’s proud of you. every time you accomplish something, he’s right there cheering you on, bragging to anyone who will listen. when you’re sad, he’s the first to comfort you. when you’re happy, his whole world lights up. he would do anything for you, and you would do the same for him. i don’t think he’s ever been surer of anything in his life than wanting to spend it with you.”
you take a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of nicole’s words seep into your heart. “i just . . . i can’t believe i get to have this. i can’t believe i get to have him.”
nicole smiles, brushing a tear from your cheek. “believe it, because he feels the same way. you’re his world. and today, when he sees you walking down that aisle, he’s going to be reminded of every reason why he fell in love with you. you make each other better, and everyone can see it.”
you laugh softly, a mixture of nerves and overwhelming happiness. “i feel like the luckiest person in the world.”
nicole pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. “you two are so right for each other, and i’m so glad you found each other. this is just the start of a beautiful life together.”
as you pull away, nicole gives you a reassuring smile. “oscar is the luckiest man, and he knows it. he’s never loved anyone the way he loves you, and he never will. you’re his person.”
and as you look at yourself in the mirror one last time, the nerves are still there, but they’re quieter now, overshadowed by the joy of knowing you’re marrying a man who loves you more deeply than you ever thought possible. today is the day you get to say ‘i do’ to your best friend, and as you walk out of the room, you know you’re walking toward the greatest adventure of your life—with oscar by your side, forever and ever and always.
#f1#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#f1 imagine#mclaren#mclaren racing#op81#op81 x reader#op81 imagine#op81 x you#op81 x y/n#op81 fluff#op81 fic#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x yn#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri#divider by cafekitsune
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