#sometimes I would get frustrated with them

[pucksandpower]

The One Left Behind

Max Verstappen x Lewis Hamilton’s ex!Reader

Summary: your first love was a seven-time world champion with a chip on his shoulder who would stop at nothing to finally get that eighth … even at the expense of you. Your second (and last) love is a five-time world champion with racing in his blood who proves, once and for all, that he would give it all up for you without even being asked … and regret absolutely nothing

Based on this request

The rain taps softly against the glass walls of the penthouse. The lights of Monaco shimmer beyond the windows, reflections dancing across the polished floor like scattered stars.

You sit cross-legged on the oversized couch, Lewis sprawled beside you, his legs stretched out, an arm slung casually over the backrest. He’s scrolling through his phone, something about sector times and telemetry, but his attention isn’t fully there. Not tonight.

“Lewis,” you say, gently nudging his side with your foot.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up.

You nudge him harder, and this time he glances your way, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “What’s up?”

“I need you to focus for, like, five minutes.”

“I am focusing,” he says, holding up his phone as evidence. “Race prep.”

“On me, Lewis.”

That gets his attention. He sets the phone down on the coffee table, screen still glowing with data, and leans back, giving you his full, undivided gaze. “Alright, I’m all yours. What’s on your mind?”

You hesitate for a moment, fingers curling into the soft fabric of your sweater. The words are there, sitting heavy on your tongue, but saying them feels like stepping off the edge of something solid. Still, you’ve been together for almost six years. If you can’t have this conversation with him now, when can you?

“I’ve been thinking,” you start, your voice steady but quiet, “about us. About the future.”

Lewis tilts his head, curiosity flickering across his face. “What about it?”

You take a deep breath. “I want to get married, Lewis. I want to have a family. With you.”

His expression shifts, not into shock or annoyance, but something harder to read. He doesn’t respond right away, which only makes the silence stretch uncomfortably between you.

“I know the timing’s not perfect,” you add quickly, trying to fill the gap. “I know you’re in the middle of-”

“The most important season of my career?” He finishes for you, a wry smile softening his tone.

“Yeah, that.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Babe, it’s not that I don’t want those things with you. I do. You know I do.”

“Do I?” The question slips out before you can stop it, and you see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“Of course you do,” he says, his voice low, almost defensive. “Six years. That’s not nothing.”

“I know it’s not nothing. But sometimes it feels like we’re stuck in the same place. Like we’re … waiting for something that never comes.”

Lewis scrubs a hand down his face, the faintest hint of frustration breaking through his calm demeanor. “It’s not that simple, love. You know how much this season means to me. Winning an eighth title, it’s history. Legacy. Everything I’ve worked for my whole life.”

“And what about after that?” You press, leaning closer. “What happens when you get it? Then what?”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, he looks almost … unsure. It’s a rare thing, seeing Lewis Hamilton unsure of anything.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve never really thought about it. Not in detail.”

“Well, maybe you should,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “Because I have. And I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with just being … your girlfriend forever.”

Lewis winces at the word, like it stings. “That’s not what you are to me. You’re everything. You know that.”

“Then prove it.”

He leans back again, running both hands through his hair as he exhales sharply. “God, you don’t make this easy, do you?”

“It’s not supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be real.”

For a long moment, he just looks at you, his dark eyes searching your face like he’s trying to solve some impossible puzzle. Then, slowly, he nods.

“Okay,” he says, his voice steady now, resolute. “When I win this season — when I get that eighth title — I’ll retire.”

Your breath catches. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says, a small, almost mischievous smile playing on his lips. “I’ll retire. I’ll hang up my helmet, put a ring on your finger, and we’ll start trying for that family you’ve been dreaming about.”

You stare at him, equal parts stunned and skeptical. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“Lewis, you can’t just say that to shut me up.”

“I’m not trying to shut you up,” he says, reaching for your hand. His fingers are warm, steady, and when he looks at you now, there’s no hesitation, no uncertainty. “I’m saying it because I mean it. When I win, it’ll be the perfect ending. The perfect time to step away. And then it’s just us. No races, no travel, no distractions. Just you and me.”

“And a baby,” you add, because if you’re going to dream, you might as well dream big.

He chuckles, the sound warm and rich, and pulls you closer until you’re half in his lap. “And a baby,” he agrees.

It feels like a promise, one sealed with the way he presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you like they’re anchoring you to him.

But somewhere, deep down, a small, cautious voice whispers: what if he doesn’t win?

***

The suite is silent except for the faint hum of the minibar fridge and the muffled sounds of celebration filtering in from somewhere outside. It’s as if the entire world is rejoicing, but here, in the confines of this hotel room, everything feels like it’s crumbling.

Lewis hasn’t said a word since you got back. He walked in, dropped his helmet bag by the door, and slumped onto the edge of the bed, still in his team gear. His shoulders are hunched, his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly between his knees.

You stand a few feet away, arms crossed over your chest, unsure whether to approach him or leave him to his thoughts. The weight in the room is unbearable, pressing down on your chest until it’s hard to breathe.

“Lewis,” you say softly, testing the waters.

He doesn’t move.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

You take a tentative step closer. “I know it hurts-”

“Don’t,” he says sharply, cutting you off. His voice is hoarse, raw from the screams and protests he let out over the radio hours ago. He still hasn’t looked up.

You flinch but press on, refusing to let the conversation die. “I’m just trying to help.”

“There’s nothing to help,” he snaps, finally lifting his head. His eyes are bloodshot, his expression a mix of devastation and barely restrained fury. “It’s done. Over. What’s there to say?”

Your heart twists at the sight of him like this — so broken, so unlike the unshakable man you’ve always known. “I just thought-”

“Don’t you get it?” He interrupts, his voice rising. He stands abruptly, towering over you, his frustration bubbling over. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to sit here and dissect how it all fell apart. I want to forget.”

You step back, your own emotions starting to fray at the edges. “You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. You need to face it.”

“And what good would that do?” He shoots back, pacing the room now like a caged animal. “Would it give me my title? My win? Would it change the fact that I got robbed tonight?”

His words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me too.”

The silence stretches again, but this time it’s different. More fragile. You can feel it cracking under the weight of what you need to say next.

“Lewis,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “About what we talked about. Before ���”

He stops pacing, turning to look at you with a frown. “What?”

“A few weeks ago,” you clarify, taking a shaky breath. “You said when you won, you’d retire. That we’d start … building a life together.”

His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking as he stares at you.

“I know you didn’t win,” you continue hesitantly, “but does that really change anything? Can’t we still-”

“Don’t,” he says sharply, holding up a hand. His expression is hard now, a stark contrast to the vulnerability he showed earlier. “Don’t do this right now.”

“Why not?” You ask, frustration creeping into your tone. “Because it’s not convenient? Because it’s easier to bury yourself in racing than deal with what’s happening between us?”

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice rising again.

“Isn’t it?” You challenge, taking a step closer. “You made me a promise. And now, what? You’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen because things didn’t go your way?”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You don’t get it. You’ve never understood. Racing isn’t just something I do — it’s who I am. Walking away now, without that eighth championship … I can’t. I won’t.”

Your chest tightens, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “So what about me? What about us? Do we just stay on pause forever while you chase this thing that might never happen?”

His face twists with something you can’t quite place — anger, regret, maybe both. “This isn’t just about you,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “I’ve given everything to this sport. Everything. And I’m not quitting until I finish what I started.”

“So I’m just supposed to wait?” You ask, your voice cracking. “How long, Lewis? Another year? Two? Five? When is it going to be enough?”

“I don’t know!” He shouts, the words bursting out of him like a dam breaking. “I don’t know, alright?”

The room falls silent again, the weight of his outburst settling over both of you.

“I can’t do this,” he mutters after a moment, shaking his head. “Not right now.”

Before you can say another word, he grabs his jacket from the back of a chair and heads for the door.

“Lewis, wait,” you plead, your voice trembling. “Don’t walk away from this. From me.”

He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn around. “I just need some air,” he says, his tone clipped.

And then he’s gone, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality that makes you flinch.

You stand there for a moment, frozen, staring at the door as if willing him to come back. But the only sound is the muffled celebration outside, a cruel reminder of everything that’s been lost tonight.

Finally, your legs give out, and you sink onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears come. They’re hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks as sobs wrack your body.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. None of it. You were supposed to be celebrating together, planning your future, looking ahead to the life you’d been dreaming of for so long.

But instead, it feels like everything is slipping through your fingers, and no matter how hard you try to hold on, it’s all crumbling around you.

You don’t know how long you sit there, crying into the silence, but when the tears finally stop, you’re left with an emptiness that feels even worse.

And for the first time in six years, you wonder if maybe Lewis Hamilton isn’t the man you thought he was. Or maybe he is, and that’s the problem.

***

One Year Later

The glass facade of the clinic looms above you, pristine and intimidating. Every time you glance at the sign — Centre de Fertilité de Monaco written in bold looping letters — your stomach churns. You’ve been standing outside for almost fifteen minutes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed tightly against the chill in the air.

The city is alive around you, luxury cars humming down the streets, the faint sound of waves crashing against the marina in the distance. But you feel like you’re in a bubble, trapped in your own swirling thoughts.

This is what you want. You’ve thought about it a hundred times, planned every detail, read every article, and filled out every form. And yet, your feet refuse to move.

“Just go inside,” you whisper to yourself, though the words feel hollow.

You take a step toward the door, but your hand falters just shy of the handle.

“Y/N?”

The voice is familiar, low and slightly accented, and it stops you in your tracks. You turn to see Max Verstappen standing a few feet away, a look of surprise etched across his face. He’s dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, but there’s no mistaking him.

“Max,” you breathe, startled.

He takes a step closer, his brows knitting together. “What are you doing here?”

You glance at the clinic sign and then back at him, your heart hammering in your chest. “It’s, uh … personal.”

Max’s eyes narrow slightly, curiosity and concern mingling in his expression. “Personal enough that you’re standing outside looking like you’re about to throw up?”

Your face heats, and you instinctively wrap your arms around yourself, as if that could shield you from his gaze. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He pauses, studying you. Then his eyes flicker to the sign again, and something seems to click. “Wait … are you-”

“Yes,” you blurt, cutting him off. There’s no point in pretending now. “I’m here to get artificially inseminated.”

Max blinks, clearly not expecting that answer. “Oh.”

You look away, embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal. Lots of women do it.”

“Without anyone here to support you?” He asks, his tone soft but pointed.

You shrug, your voice defensive. “It’s my decision.”

Max doesn’t respond right away, and when you finally look back at him, he’s frowning. “Why?”

The question catches you off guard. “Why what?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want a baby,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And you can’t … I don’t know, meet someone?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Right, because it’s that easy.”

Max shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re serious about this?”

“Yes, Max,” you snap, your patience wearing thin. “I’ve been serious about this for a long time. Just because my relationship didn’t work out doesn’t mean I should have to give up on what I want.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he says quietly, “So you and Lewis really broke up.”

You nod, swallowing hard. The mention of Lewis still feels like a punch to the gut, even after all this time. “Yeah. A while ago.”

Max hesitates, his hands shoved into his pockets. “And now you’re just … what? Picking a random donor from a catalog and hoping for the best?”

The words sting, and you glare at him. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He presses, his voice still calm but insistent. “You deserve more than that. You deserve more than a child fathered by some random man you only know as lines of descriptions on paper.”

That’s the moment you break. The tears you’ve been holding back for weeks, maybe even months, come flooding out. You cover your face with your hands, trying to stifle the sobs, but it’s no use.

“Hey,” Max says quickly, stepping closer. “Hey, don’t-”

But you can’t stop. It’s all too much — Lewis, the clinic, the choices you’ve had to make on your own.

“I just want-” you choke out, but the words dissolve into another sob.

“Come here,” Max says softly, wrapping an arm around your back and gently tugging you closer. You collapse against him, your face buried in his shoulder as the tears keep coming.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just holds you, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles over your back. His hoodie smells faintly of cologne and something clean, like fresh laundry.

After a while, your sobs start to quiet, and you manage to pull back, wiping at your face. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” Max says, his voice low. He tilts his head, his blue eyes soft but serious. “You’re clearly not in the right state of mind to be making life-changing decisions.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“Look,” he says, “I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this. I’m saying maybe today isn’t the day. You’re upset. And I don’t think you should do something this big while you’re feeling like this.”

You hesitate, his words sinking in.

“My apartment is just around the corner,” he continues. “Why don’t we go there? We can talk, or not talk. Whatever you want. But at least give yourself a little time to think.”

You hesitate, glancing back at the clinic. The weight of the decision presses heavily on you, but so does the thought of going through with it now, like this.

“Okay,” you whisper finally.

Max nods, a small, reassuring smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Come on.”

He keeps his hand on your back as he guides you down the street, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel entirely alone.

***

Max’s apartment is modern, sleek, and surprisingly warm. The large windows overlook the Monaco skyline, the twinkling lights of the city reflecting off the sea in the distance. You sit on the plush gray couch, clutching a mug of tea Max handed you just moments ago. The ceramic is warm in your hands, grounding you as the weight of everything presses down on your chest.

Max settles in the armchair across from you, his long legs stretched out, one elbow resting on the armrest as he watches you carefully. He hasn’t said much since you got here, and you’re grateful for it. But now, with the tea steeping between your fingers and his steady gaze on you, you feel the urge to fill the silence.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max shrugs lightly, a faint, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “Start anywhere.”

You exhale shakily, staring into the dark liquid in your mug. “Lewis and I were together for six years. Six years of my life … and for a long time, I thought we wanted the same things.”

Max’s brows knit together, but he stays quiet, letting you continue.

“I thought we were building something together,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “I wanted to get married. I wanted kids. He said he did, too. But there was always something in the way — another season, another championship, another goal. And I kept waiting because I believed in him, in us.”

Your voice cracks, and you take a sip of the tea, letting the warmth soothe your throat. Max leans forward slightly, his blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that’s both comforting and unnerving.

“And then last year …” You pause, trying to steady your voice. “He promised me that if he won his eighth title, he’d retire. That we’d finally start the life we talked about. And I believed him. I really believed him.”

Max’s jaw tightens, his knuckles pressing against his chin as he listens.

“But he didn’t win,” you continue, the memory still fresh, still raw. “And instead of keeping his promise, he said he couldn’t walk away. Not without that eighth.”

“Unbelievable,” Max mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

You glance at him, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “I thought maybe I could wait. Maybe I could put my dreams on hold for him a little longer. But it wasn’t just about the title — it was about him always choosing racing over me, over us.”

Max leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “So you broke up.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say, your voice trembling. “I couldn’t keep waiting for someone who would never choose me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unspoken. You’ve said them to yourself before, in the quiet of your bedroom, in the midst of sleepless nights, but saying them out loud now feels different. More final.

“And now you’re here,” Max says after a moment, gesturing faintly toward the direction of the clinic outside the windows.

You nod, tears pricking at your eyes again. “I still want a family. I’ve always wanted that. And after everything with Lewis, I realized I can’t keep putting my life on hold for someone else. If I want a baby, I have to make it happen myself.”

Max stares at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I get it,” he says finally. “I do. But … I don’t know. It just feels wrong. Like, you shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you say, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Not everyone gets a happy ending. Some of us just have to make do with what we have.”

He shakes his head, leaning forward again. “That’s not what I mean. I mean someone like you shouldn’t have to settle for this. You’re smart, beautiful, caring. Any guy would be lucky to have you. Hell, if it were me-”

He stops abruptly, his face coloring slightly as if realizing what he’s about to say.

“If it were you, what?” You ask, your voice softer now, curious.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “If it were me, I wouldn’t have made you wait. I wouldn’t have let you go, period. I would’ve dropped everything the second I got out of the car in Abu Dhabi.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut — not because they hurt, but because they’re so unexpected, so honest.

“You don’t mean that,” you say quietly, though your heart betrays you, fluttering in your chest.

Max’s gaze is unwavering. “I do. You deserve someone who sees you as their priority, not as something they’ll get to when it’s convenient. If I had someone like you …” He trails off, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t need anything else.”

The room falls silent, and you don’t know what to say. Your hands tighten around the mug, and you feel your cheeks flush under his intense stare.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment, leaning back. “That probably crossed a line.”

“No,” you say quickly, surprising even yourself. “It’s … nice to hear. I guess I just don’t believe it.”

“Why not?” He asks, his brows furrowing.

“Because if that were true, Lewis wouldn’t have left,” you admit, your voice breaking. “If I were really worth all that, he wouldn’t have walked away.”

Max shakes his head vehemently, leaning forward again. “That’s not on you. That’s on him. He couldn’t see what he had. That’s his loss, not yours.”

You blink back tears, his words cutting through the doubt and self-blame you’ve been carrying for so long.

“Look,” Max says softly, his voice gentle now. “You’re not alone in this, okay? I know it feels like it, but you’re not. And whatever you decide to do, just … don’t rush into it because you think you have to. You’ve got time, and you’ve got people who care about you.”

The sincerity in his voice almost breaks you all over again. You nod, unable to speak, and Max offers you a small, reassuring smile.

“Finish your tea,” he says, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll grab us something stronger. Tea’s good for a talk, but this feels like a whiskey kind of conversation.”

You laugh softly, the sound surprising you. For the first time in a long time, the weight on your chest feels just a little bit lighter.

***

The first time you showed up at Max’s apartment unannounced, it was a particularly bad day. The ache in your chest had been unbearable, the quiet of your own place suffocating. You hadn’t even thought twice before texting him: You home?

His response came within seconds. Always. Door’s open.

You found him lounging on the couch, his two bengals sprawled out lazily beside him. When he saw you, he didn’t ask questions. He just stood, grabbed two Red Bulls from the fridge, and let you curl up on the floor to play with Jimmy and Sassy while he sat nearby, chatting about nothing in particular until the knot in your chest loosened.

It became a ritual after that. On the days when life felt too heavy, you’d make your way to Max’s. Sometimes you’d talk, sometimes you wouldn’t. But more often than not, you’d end up on the floor with the cats while Max watched with quiet amusement.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Jimmy pounces on the feather toy you’re dragging across the rug, his sleek body moving with a precision that reminds you of Max on the track. Sassy, the more aloof of the two, lounges nearby, watching her brother with disdain until she decides to join in.

You’re lying on your back now, laughing as the two cats leap over you, chasing the toy you’re holding above your head. It’s the first time you’ve laughed all day, maybe all week, and it feels good.

“Careful, Jimmy,” Max calls from the couch, his voice warm with affection. “She’s not a scratching post.”

You tilt your head to look at him, still holding the toy above you. He’s sitting sideways, one arm slung over the back of the couch, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Jimmy would never hurt me,” you say, grinning as the cat lands lightly on your stomach before darting off again.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Max warns, shaking his head. “He’s a menace.”

“He’s perfect,” you counter, turning your attention back to the cats.

Max chuckles softly, but he doesn’t respond. You’re too distracted by Sassy’s sudden burst of energy to notice the way his gaze lingers on you, the way his smile fades into something softer, something deeper.

After a while, you sit up, your hair slightly disheveled and your cheeks flushed from laughing. Jimmy jumps into your lap, purring contentedly as you stroke his fur.

When you look up, Max is staring at you.

“What?” You ask, your brow furrowing.

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are warm, almost tender, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room.

“Nothing,” he says finally, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re just … happy. I like seeing you like this.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you glance away, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s the cats,” you say lightly, trying to brush it off. “They’re good for my mental health.”

“It’s not just the cats,” Max says, and there’s something in his tone that makes you look at him again.

He’s leaning forward slightly now, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze locked on yours. You feel your breath catch, the air in the room shifting, thickening.

“Max …” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence.

“You don’t see it, do you?” He says softly, his voice almost reverent.

“See what?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“How incredible you are.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unshakable. You stare at him, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

“Max, I …”

Before you can finish, he’s on the floor in front of you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, and you don’t pull away.

“You’re amazing,” he says, his eyes searching yours. “You’re strong, and kind, and funny, and … God, Y/N, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you forget how to speak.

“Max,” you say finally, your voice trembling. “This … this is a bad idea.”

“Why?” He asks, his hand still resting against your cheek.

“Because I don’t want to ruin this,” you admit, your eyes filling with tears. “You’ve been my rock these past few months. I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” he says firmly. “I promise you, you won’t. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

You’re silent, your heart warring with your head. But when he leans in, his lips brushing softly against yours, all your doubts fade away.

The kiss is gentle at first, hesitant, as if he’s afraid you might pull away. But when you don’t, he deepens it, his hand sliding into your hair as he pours everything he’s been holding back into the kiss.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

Max chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Yeah. Wow.”

You stare at him, your mind racing. This wasn’t what you expected when you came here tonight, but now that it’s happened, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

“Max,” you say softly, your voice filled with uncertainty.

“It’s okay,” he says, cutting you off. “We’ll figure this out, whatever it is. I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I promise.”

And to your surprise, despite the broken promises still shattered beneath your feet, you really do believe him.

***

The bedroom is bathed in the soft golden glow of the evening lights spilling through the windows. The Monaco skyline twinkles faintly in the distance, but you’re not paying attention to it. You’re wrapped up in Max’s arms, his warmth seeping into you as his fingers draw lazy patterns on your back.

You’re lying on your side, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His free hand brushes through your hair, the motion slow and soothing. Every so often, he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head or your temple, murmuring something sweet against your skin.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he says, his voice low and gentle.

“I’m just … content,” you reply, tilting your head to look up at him. “This is nice.”

He smiles down at you, his blue eyes soft with affection. “Yeah, it is.”

His fingers trail up to your jaw, tilting your face up so he can kiss you. It’s slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl and sends warmth blooming in your chest.

When he pulls back, his lips linger near yours, his breath fanning against your skin. “You know, I could get used to this,” he says, a playful lilt in his voice.

“You mean you’re not used to it already?” You tease, nudging him lightly.

“I mean forever,” he says, and the sincerity in his tone makes your heart skip a beat.

You smile, your fingers idly tracing the lines of his collarbone. “Forever sounds nice.”

The silence that follows is comfortable, filled with the soft sounds of your breathing and the occasional distant hum of the city below.

After a moment, you glance up at him, your heart beating a little faster. “Max?”

“Hmm?” He hums, his fingers still trailing along your back.

“Have you ever thought about … kids?” You ask hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stills for a moment, his hand pausing mid-motion before he shifts slightly to look down at you. “Kids?”

“Yeah,” you say, suddenly nervous. “Like, have you ever thought about having them?”

He doesn’t answer right away, his brows furrowing slightly as if considering your question. Then, to your surprise, he lets out a soft laugh.

“Honestly?” He says, his lips quirking into a small smile. “I’ve thought about it pretty much daily since I met you.”

Your eyes widen, and you push yourself up onto your elbow to look at him more closely. “Seriously?”

He chuckles, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t thinking about it before. But now? With you? I think about it all the time.”

“Max,” you whisper, your heart swelling at his words.

“I know it sounds crazy,” he continues, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. “We haven’t been together that long, but … I don’t know. When you know, you know, right?”

You nod, unable to speak, your throat tight with emotion.

“And I know,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re it for me, Y/N. There’s no one else. There’s never going to be anyone else.”

Tears sting at your eyes, and you laugh softly, leaning into his touch. “You’re really something, Max Verstappen.”

“I mean it,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “So … what do you think? Would you want to have a baby with me?”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The question is so outlandish, so unexpected, and yet it feels right.

“You’re serious?” You ask, your voice trembling.

“Dead serious,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips. “You’re going to be an amazing mom. I can already see it.”

You laugh, covering your face with your hands as the weight of his words sinks in. “This is insane.”

“Maybe,” he says, pulling your hands away from your face. “But it feels right, doesn’t it?”

You look at him, at the way his eyes shine with hope and love, and you know he’s right.

“It does,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

He beams, his grin so wide it’s almost boyish. “So … is that a yes?”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss him. “Yes, Max. Let’s have a baby.”

He kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you closer. The kiss is different this time — deeper, more urgent, filled with the promise of what’s to come.

When you pull back, you’re both grinning like fools, your foreheads pressed together as you laugh softly.

“This is happening,” he says, his voice filled with awe.

“It is,” you reply, your heart swelling with joy.

“And just so you know,” he adds, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “I’m not leaving this bed until we make it happen.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he counters, flipping you onto your back as his lips find yours again.

The night stretches on for what feels like forever, filled with laughter, whispered promises, and the kind of love that feels like forever.

***

The moment you see the two pink lines on the test, your heart stops. For a second, you don’t breathe, don’t blink, don’t move. Then, a rush of emotions crashes over you all at once — joy, disbelief, terror, excitement. You sit on the edge of the tub in your bathroom, staring at the test in your shaking hands, trying to make sense of it.

“Max,” you whisper to yourself, and the thought of him steadies you.

He’s in the kitchen when you step out, his back to you as he busies himself with something at the stove. The faint smell of eggs and toast fills the air, but you can barely focus on it. Your hand tightens around the test in your pocket.

“Morning,” he says when he hears your footsteps, glancing over his shoulder with a soft smile. “Hungry? I made breakfast.”

You don’t answer, your feet rooted to the floor.

“Y/N?” He says, turning fully to face you now. “Everything okay?”

You nod, though you’re pretty sure you don’t look convincing. Your chest feels tight, and suddenly, you don’t know how to say the words.

“Hey,” he says softly, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

His hands find yours, grounding you in the way only he can. You take a deep breath and pull the test out of your pocket, holding it up between you.

Max stares at it for a moment, his eyes wide.

“Is that-”

“Yeah,” you say quickly, your voice trembling. “It’s positive.”

For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Then, a slow, disbelieving grin spreads across his face.

“We’re having a baby?” He asks, his voice almost a whisper.

You nod, your own tears welling up as you watch his expression shift from shock to pure, unfiltered joy.

“We’re having a baby,” you repeat, the words finally sinking in.

Max lets out a breathless laugh, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground. “Oh my God, Y/N, we’re having a baby!”

You laugh through your tears, clinging to him as he spins you around. When he finally sets you down, his hands frame your face, his eyes searching yours.

“Are you okay? How do you feel? Do you need anything? Oh my God, we need to call the doctor, right? That’s what we do next?”

“Max,” you say, cutting him off with a laugh. “I’m okay. We’ll figure it all out.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding quickly. “Okay. But, wow … we’re having a baby.”

The way he says it, like he can’t quite believe it, makes your heart swell.

From that moment on, Max is all in.

***

Max surprises you at every turn. Where you once thought the worlds of racing and family couldn’t coexist, he proves you wrong with every thoughtful gesture, every sacrifice, every time he puts you first.

At first, you hesitate to bring it up. You know how important racing is to him, how much of his life has been dedicated to it. You don’t want to be a distraction, don’t want to pull him away from something he loves.

But Max is quick to shut down any of those thoughts.

“You and this baby come first,” he says one night, his hand resting gently on your still-flat stomach. “Always.”

You blink at him, your throat tight. “You don’t have to say that, Max. I know how much racing means to you.”

“And I know how much you mean to me,” he counters, his voice firm. “This doesn’t have to be one or the other. We’ll make it work. I promise.”

And he does.

***

You don’t feel ready to travel yet, and Max doesn’t push you. He understands when you tell him you’re not ready to face the paddock, to face him. It’s still too raw, too soon. Max doesn’t question it.

“It’s okay,” he says, kissing your forehead. “You don’t need to explain. You do what’s best for you. I’ll come to you.”

And he does.

Even in the middle of the season, when his schedule is packed and his commitments are endless, Max never misses a single appointment. He’s always there, whether it’s for the early check-ups or the first ultrasound.

“Can you believe that’s our baby?” He whispers during the first scan, his voice filled with awe as he watches the tiny flicker of the heartbeat on the monitor.

You can’t answer, your own emotions overwhelming you. Instead, you squeeze his hand, and he leans over to press a kiss to your temple.

***

The weeks pass, and soon it’s time for the big ultrasound — the one where you’ll finally learn the baby’s gender. Max is in São Paulo for the Brazilian Grand Prix, and you’ve convinced yourself he won’t make it back in time.

“It’s okay,” you tell him over the phone the night before. “You’ve got a race to focus on. I’ll record everything for you.”

“Y/N,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m not missing this.”

“But-”

“I’ll be there,” he promises. “Trust me.”

True to his word, Max walks into the clinic the next afternoon, still in his favorite set of sweats for traveling, his hair slightly disheveled from the flight.

“Max,” you say, standing up from your chair in the waiting room, your heart swelling at the sight of him. “You made it.”

“Of course I did,” he says, pulling you into his arms. “I told you I would.”

The ultrasound room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the machine and the occasional click of the technician’s keyboard. You’re lying on the examination table, Max sitting beside you, holding your hand tightly.

“Are you ready to find out?” The technician asks, her eyes crinkling with a warm smile.

You glance at Max, and he nods, his excitement barely contained.

“Let’s do it,” you say.

The technician moves the wand across your stomach, and a moment later, the screen lights up with the image of your baby.

“Congratulations,” she says, her smile widening. “It’s a girl.”

A girl.

Max lets out a laugh, his hand flying to cover his mouth as he stares at the screen. “A girl,” he repeats, his voice filled with wonder. “We’re having a girl.”

You laugh through your tears, your heart full to bursting. Max leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose, your lips.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“For what?” You ask, your own voice shaky.

“For this. For her. For everything,” he says, his eyes shining as he looks at you.

You don’t have the words to respond, so you just squeeze his hand, your heart so full it feels like it might burst.

And in that moment, you realize: Max was right. Racing and family don’t have to be at odds. They can coexist, as long as you have someone who’s willing to make it work. And Max? He’s more than willing. He’s all in. Always.

***

It’s been a long start to the season, and the 2024 championship is already shaping up to be a nail-biter. The RB20 is much more unwieldy than its predecessor, the points gap narrowing with a DNF in Australia. The pressure is on, and you know it. Max knows it too.

But despite everything — the late nights, the media frenzy, the endless travel — he never wavers in his commitment to you and the baby. Even as the world watches him fight for the title, Max’s focus always returns home.

As your due date approaches, the Japan Grand Prix weekend looms closer on the calendar. Suzuka is pivotal, everyone says. The kind of race that could determine the championship. The team is counting on Max to deliver.

But Max doesn’t seem fazed by any of it when you bring it up one evening in bed, your hand resting on your swollen belly while his fingers gently trace circles over the skin.

“You know Suzuka’s right around the corner,” you say hesitantly, watching his expression.

“Hmm,” he hums, his eyes focused on your stomach, his lips quirking into a small smile when he feels a kick.

“Max.”

He glances up at you, his gaze softening. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitate, unsure how to phrase it. “I just … I know it’s an important race. And my due date is so close. What if-”

“I’m not going to Japan,” he says firmly, cutting you off before you can spiral.

You blink at him, startled. “What?”

“I’ve already told Christian and Helmut. They’re putting Liam in the car for the weekend.”

“Max,” you whisper, your heart swelling. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he says, his voice steady. “This is our daughter we’re talking about. There’s no way I’m missing her arrival, not for any race, not for anything.”

Tears sting at your eyes, and you blink them back quickly. “But the championship-”

“Doesn’t matter as much as this,” he interrupts again, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Y/N, I love racing, but you and our baby? You’re everything. You’re my world. If I have to miss a race, so be it.”

You stare at him, your throat tight, and you can’t stop the tears this time. “I love you,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “I love you too. More than anything.”

***

When the weekend of the Japanese Grand Prix arrives, you’re still pregnant, and Max is at your side, refusing to let you lift a finger.

The race plays out on the television in the background while Max spends most of the day doting on you. He rubs your feet, makes you tea, and checks on the hospital bag for the millionth time, making sure everything is in order.

“Max, sit down,” you say, laughing softly as you watch him double-check the contents of the bag again.

“I just want to make sure we’re ready,” he says, zipping it up and placing it neatly by the door.

“We’re ready,” you assure him, patting the space next to you on the couch.

He finally sits, pulling you close and resting his hand on your belly. “You’re sure she’s not coming today?”

“She’s not on your schedule, Verstappen,” you tease, and he laughs, leaning in to kiss your temple.

***

But she does come.

Two days later, in the early hours of the morning, the first contraction wakes you. At first, you’re too groggy to register what’s happening, but when the second one hits, you gasp, clutching at the sheets.

“Max,” you manage to get out, shaking his shoulder.

He bolts upright, his eyes wide and alert. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I think … I think it’s time,” you say, your voice trembling.

Max is on his feet in an instant, grabbing the hospital bag and helping you out of bed with remarkable calmness for someone who was sound asleep just seconds ago.

“You okay?” He asks, his arm around your waist as he guides you to the car.

You nod, though your breaths are shallow. “Yeah. Just … hurry.”

***

The hours in the delivery room pass in a blur of pain and anticipation. Max never leaves your side, his hand gripping yours tightly through every contraction, his voice steady and reassuring as he encourages you.

“You’re amazing,” he says, brushing the hair from your sweaty forehead. “You’ve got this. Just a little more, liefje. You’re so strong.”

When the moment finally comes, and the sound of your daughter’s first cries fills the room, both of you dissolve into tears.

“She’s here,” Max whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s really here.”

The nurse places the tiny, wriggling bundle in your arms, and you look down at her, overwhelmed by a love so powerful it takes your breath away. Max leans over your shoulder, his face close to hers, his tears falling freely now.

“She’s perfect,” he says, his voice breaking.

You glance up at him, your heart swelling as you see the pure adoration on his face. “She looks like you.”

“She looks like us,” he corrects, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her cheek.

***

When the nurse takes her to be weighed and cleaned up, Max stands frozen for a moment, watching her with wide eyes. Then, when they bring her back, he hesitates.

“You want to hold her?” You ask, smiling through your exhaustion.

He looks at you like you’ve just handed him the most precious thing in the world. “Can I?”

“Of course,” you say, carefully passing her to him.

Max cradles her in his arms, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving her face. He looks utterly awestruck, his tears still streaming down his cheeks as he rocks her gently.

“Hi, little one,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m your papa. And I already love you more than anything.”

Your heart clenches as you watch him, the way he holds her like she’s the most fragile, most important thing in the world.

“You okay?” You ask softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

He nods, but when he looks at you, his expression is serious. “Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “If you or she ever said the word, I’d stop. I’d walk away from racing tomorrow and never look back.”

“Max-”

“I mean it,” he says, cutting you off gently. “I don’t need any of it. All I need is right here.”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you reach for his hand, your fingers lacing through his. “You don’t have to stop, Max. I don’t want you to. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” he says, his gaze dropping back to your daughter. “You and her — you’re everything.”

The three of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other and the overwhelming love that fills the room.

And as you watch Max rock your daughter, his eyes shining with tears and joy, you realize that this is it — this is the life you always dreamed of.

***

The Australian Grand Prix marks the beginning of the 2025 season, and the paddock is alive with its usual chaos: reporters shouting questions, cameras flashing, and engineers rushing to and from garages. But for you, it feels like an entirely different world as you step onto the paddock with your daughter perched on your hip.

She’s bundled in a tiny Red Bull jacket Max had custom-made, her baby blue eyes wide as she takes in the flurry of activity around her. She giggles as a gust of wind tousles her fine blonde curls, and you can’t help but smile, brushing them back into place.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask Max, who stands beside you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back.

He glances at you, his expression soft but resolute. “You’re my family. I want everyone to know.”

Your chest tightens, equal parts touched and nervous. “It’s just … people are going to talk.”

“Let them,” Max says simply, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. Then he shifts his attention to your daughter, gently tickling her chin. “Aren’t they, prinsesje? Let them say what they want.”

Her delighted squeal pulls a laugh from him, and for a moment, your nerves melt away.

But the attention is immediate. As soon as you cross into the paddock, a ripple of recognition sweeps through the crowd. Photographers pause, their lenses snapping up. Team personnel do double takes. Whispers spread like wildfire.

You’re prepared for it — at least, as much as you can be. What you’re not prepared for is running into Lewis.

You spot him before he sees you, standing just outside the Ferrari hospitality area in conversation with Fred Vasseur. Your stomach twists as you consider turning around, but before you can move, Lewis glances up.

He freezes.

His gaze locks on you, then drops to the baby in your arms, and his expression shifts from shock to something darker. He mutters something to Fred and strides toward you, his movements purposeful and tense.

“Y/N,” he says, stopping a few feet away. His eyes flicker to Max, who hasn’t left your side, and then back to you. “What … what’s this?”

You take a steadying breath. “Hello, Lewis.”

He ignores the pleasantries, his attention fixed on the child in your arms. “Is that your-” He stops, his jaw tightening. “Is that his?”

Max steps forward slightly, his hand now firm on your back. “Yes,” he says evenly, his voice calm but unyielding. “She is ours.”

Lewis’s eyes narrow, his gaze darting between you and Max. “How long has this been going on?”

“Lewis, I don’t think-”

“How long?” He snaps, his tone sharper now.

You glance at Max, who gives you a reassuring nod. Turning back to Lewis, you say, “A little over two and a half years.”

Lewis exhales sharply, shaking his head as if trying to process the information. “Two and a half years. So, what? You moved on that fast?”

“Don’t do that,” you say quietly, your grip tightening on your daughter. “It wasn’t fast. You know that.”

“Do I?” His voice is bitter, his expression unreadable. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure looks like you didn’t waste any time replacing me.”

Max stiffens beside you, but you place a hand on his arm, silently urging him to let you handle it.

“I didn’t replace you,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I moved on. There’s a difference.”

His gaze softens for a moment, flickering with something like hurt. But then he looks at Max again, and the hardness returns. “With him?”

“Yes,” you say firmly, your chin lifting.

Lewis laughs bitterly, running a hand over his face. “Unbelievable.”

“Lewis,” Max interjects, his tone measured but with an edge of steel. “This isn’t about you. It’s about her. And our daughter.”

“Your daughter,” Lewis repeats, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Right. And you think this is going to work? Bringing her into this circus?”

Max’s jaw tightens, but he stays calm. “It’s already working. She’s happy. We’re happy.”

Lewis scoffs, his eyes narrowing. “You think this is happiness? Dragging a baby into this environment? Do you even understand what kind of life you’re giving her?”

You step forward before Max can respond, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “Don’t you dare judge me. You don’t get to do that. Not after everything.”

Lewis falters, his anger giving way to a flicker of guilt. “I’m not trying to-”

“Yes, you are,” you interrupt. “I get it, okay? You’re hurt. But you don’t get to stand there and act like you know what’s best for me or my family. Not anymore.”

There’s a long, tense silence. Finally, Lewis looks away, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I just … I didn’t think it would end like this,” he mutters.

Neither did you. But you don’t say it. Instead, you adjust your daughter in your arms, her tiny fingers clutching at your jacket, grounding you.

“It’s not about how it ended,” you say softly. “It’s about how we move forward.”

Lewis looks at you, and for a moment, you see the man you loved — the man who promised you a future he could never give. His eyes drop to your daughter, and his expression shifts, softening in a way that makes your heart ache.

“She’s beautiful,” he says quietly, almost reluctantly.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Max steps closer, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. “We should go,” he says, his voice low but kind.

You nod, giving Lewis one last look before turning away.

***

In the Red Bull motorhome, you sink into a chair, your emotions crashing over you. Max kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he studies your face.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You nod, though tears blur your vision. “It’s just … hard. Seeing him. The way he looked at me.”

Max leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “You don’t owe him anything. Not your guilt, not your sadness. Nothing. You’re here with me now, with our daughter. That’s all that matters.”

His words soothe you, and you reach up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice unwavering. Then he glances at your daughter, who’s dozing peacefully in her stroller. “And I love her more than anything.”

You smile through your tears, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. No matter what challenges lie ahead, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

Nine Months Later

The final race of the 2025 season is a sea of chaos and celebration. The Yas Marina Circuit glows under the floodlights, the air electric with cheers as Max steps onto the top of the podium for the fifth time in his career. Champagne sprays from the bottles, glistening under the lights, but Max barely seems to notice.

His eyes search through the crowd, scanning the blur of faces until they land on you. There you are, cradling your daughter in your arms, her little Red Bull ear protectors sitting snugly over her head. She’s clapping her hands in that uncoordinated, infant-like way that makes his chest ache with love. And you — God, you. Your smile is soft but radiant, tears glinting in your eyes as you look up at him.

Max feels his heart tighten, his grip on the champagne bottle slackening. He’s been chasing dreams for as long as he can remember — titles, wins, perfection on the track. But now, looking at you and the life you’ve built together, he knows none of it compares to what he has waiting for him off the podium.

He knows what he has to do.

As the podium ceremony winds down, Max fumbles at the inside pocket of his race suit. His fingers brush over the small velvet box he’s carried with him for weeks, waiting for the right moment. This is it. There’s no better time.

Lando Norris, standing to Max’s right after clinching second place, notices his movement and raises a brow. “What are you up to?”

Max doesn’t answer, too focused on what’s coming next. His fingers close around the box, and his pulse quickens.

He steps forward, champagne still dripping from his suit, and motions to the crowd below. “Can we … can someone help her up here?” He calls, his voice cracking slightly with emotion.

You blink, confused, as several Red Bull mechanics glance at each other before moving to you. One of them gestures toward the podium. “Come on,” he says, grinning. “You’re part of this moment.”

“What? No, I-” you stammer, clutching your daughter closer. “I’m fine here-”

“Y/N,” Max says from above, his voice carrying across the noise. His tone is warm but insistent. “Please. Come up.”

Your heart races as you glance around, overwhelmed by the attention, but the mechanics are already helping guide you to the platform. Before you know it, you’re being hoisted onto the podium, your feet landing on the cool metal as you steady yourself.

Max steps toward you, his eyes locked on yours. His gaze is tender, but there’s a flicker of nerves there, too. The crowd’s roar dulls in your ears as he takes a deep breath, his focus entirely on you.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice trembling slightly. He drops to one knee, the champagne bottle rolling away unnoticed. In his hand is the small velvet box, now open to reveal a sparkling diamond ring.

The crowd erupts.

Your breath catches.

“Y/N,” Max says again, louder this time, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I once thought winning a championship would be the best moment of my life. But then I saw you. Holding our daughter, looking at me like that, and I realized the best thing I’ve ever done has nothing to do with racing. It’s us. It’s you. It’s her.”

Tears blur your vision, your hand covering your mouth as you stare down at him.

“I love you,” he continues, his voice cracking. “I love you more than anything in this world. You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. You’re my family, Y/N, and I don’t want to wait another second to make it official.”

He swallows hard, his hands shaking as he holds the ring toward you. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The crowd, the cameras, the other drivers — it all fades away. All you can see is Max, his face open and vulnerable in a way you’ve rarely seen. The man who’s always so composed under pressure, the fierce competitor, is looking at you with nothing but love and hope.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice breaking. Then, louder. “Yes, Max. Yes!”

The crowd explodes into cheers as Max lets out a breathless laugh, his face lighting up in relief and joy. He stands quickly, wrapping one arm around your waist while slipping the ring onto your finger with the other. It fits perfectly.

Before you can say anything else, Max cups your face and kisses you, his lips warm and urgent against yours. The kiss is met with an even louder roar from the crowd, but all you can focus on is him — the way his hands tremble slightly, the way he pulls you closer as if afraid to let go.

Your daughter giggles in your arms, and Max pulls back just enough to glance down at her. He grins, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “What do you think, prinsesje? Did Papa do okay?”

She babbles something incomprehensible, and the three of you laugh.

***

Later, in the quiet of his driver’s room, the chaos of the podium ceremony behind you, Max pulls you into his lap as you sit together on the small sofa. Your daughter sleeps soundly in her stroller nearby, her tiny chest rising and falling in rhythm.

Max toys with the ring on your finger, his expression thoughtful. “You know,” he says, his voice soft, “I’ve won a lot of things in my life. But this … this is my greatest victory.”

You smile, resting your forehead against his. “You’re pretty good at making me cry today, Verstappen.”

He chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Get used to it. I plan on spending the rest of my life making you cry happy tears.”

You hum, leaning into his touch. “Good. Because I plan on spending the rest of my life loving you.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you. “Deal.”

And in that moment, with Max holding you close and your daughter sleeping nearby, you realize that this — this is your podium. Your victory. Your forever.

***

The night is impossibly quiet for Abu Dhabi, the hum of the city dulled by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse suite. The celebrations are over, the crowds dispersed, and now it’s just the three of you. Your daughter sleeps soundly in her cot near the foot of the bed, her tiny face relaxed in peaceful dreams.

You’re wrapped up in Max’s arms, the weight of the day finally catching up with both of you. His chest is warm against your back, his heartbeat steady as his fingers lazily trace patterns on your arm. The ring on your finger catches the faint glow of the bedside lamp, a small, perfect reminder of the life-changing moment you shared hours ago.

“You’re quiet,” you murmur, shifting slightly to glance up at him.

Max’s gaze is soft, his blue eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. “Just thinking,” he says, his voice low and a little hoarse from the day’s shouting and champagne sprays.

“About?”

He pauses, his fingers stilling on your skin. You can feel the hesitation in him, the way his body tenses ever so slightly. It’s not like Max to be unsure — he’s always been decisive, charging into life with the same fearless determination he has on the track.

“Max?” You press gently, turning fully to face him now. “What’s on your mind?”

He exhales a long breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he starts, his accent curling warmly around the words. “But after today … I think I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

His hand moves to yours, thumb brushing over the ring he gave you just hours earlier. He stares at it for a moment before meeting your gaze, his eyes clear and steady.

“I’m going to retire,” he says softly.

The words hit you like a jolt. For a second, you’re sure you misheard him. “Retire?” You repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his expression unwavering. “Yeah. I’m done.”

“Max,” you say, your brow furrowing. “You just won your fifth title. You’re at the peak of your career. Why would you …”

He shifts slightly, sitting up so he can look at you more directly. “Because I don’t need it anymore,” he says simply. “I’ve achieved everything I ever wanted in racing. More than I ever thought I could. But now …” He pauses, his gaze flicking briefly to the cot where your daughter sleeps. “Now I have something I want more.”

Your chest tightens, emotions swirling in a chaotic mess you can’t quite untangle. “Are you sure? I mean, Max, this is huge. Racing has been your entire life.”

“I know,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “And I’ll always love it. But I don’t want to spend the next ten or fifteen years chasing something I don’t need, not when it means missing out on moments with you. With her.” He nods toward your daughter, his face softening.

You sit there in stunned silence, trying to process what he’s saying. “But what about the team? And your fans? You love the thrill of it, the competition-”

“Y/N,” he cuts you off gently, reaching for your hand again. “I love you more. I love our family more. And I don’t want to be the kind of dad who’s always gone, always distracted. I’ve seen what that does. I don’t want that for her.”

His words hit you square in the chest, a wave of emotion crashing over you. Tears prick at your eyes as you search his face, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all you see is love and certainty.

“You’re really serious about this,” you say softly, your voice trembling.

He nods. “I’ve thought about it for months. After last season, I told myself I’d give it one more year. One more title. And then I’d walk away. Today, seeing you and her in the crowd, knowing everything we’ve built together … it made me realize I’m ready.”

You reach up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “Max … I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say you’re okay with it,” he says, a small, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Say you’ll let me stay home and annoy you every day.”

A laugh escapes you, watery but real. “I think I can handle that.”

He leans forward, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because this is what I want, Y/N. You, her, our life together. That’s enough for me. More than enough.”

For a while, you just sit there in the quiet, wrapped up in each other. Your mind is still racing, but your heart feels full, overflowing with love for the man beside you.

“So,” you say after a moment, your voice lighter, “what’s the plan? Are you going to call Christian in the middle of the night and drop this bombshell on him?”

Max chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin. “I’ll give him a day or two to recover from the title celebrations first. Then I’ll tell him.”

“And how do you think he’s going to take it?”

“Oh, he’ll try to talk me out of it,” Max says, rolling his eyes. “He’ll tell me I’m too young, that I’ve got years left in me, that I can win even more. But I’ve already made up my mind.”

You smile, resting your head against his chest. “He’s going to miss you. They all will.”

“I’ll miss them too,” he admits. “But this isn’t goodbye forever. I’ll still be around — just not on the grid.”

“And me?” You ask, your voice teasing. “What if I’m not ready to have you home all the time?”

Max grins, his hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer. “Too late. You’re stuck with me now.”

As the night stretches on, the weight of the day starts to fade, replaced by a quiet sense of peace. Max lies back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you’re nestled against his side.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice drowsy but warm, “I used to think racing was everything. That I’d be lost without it.”

“And now?” You ask, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest.

“Now I know it was just a part of me. A big part, yeah, but not the most important one. Not anymore.” He pauses, his hand brushing over your hair. “You and her … you’re my everything now.”

Tears sting your eyes again, but this time they’re tears of joy. “Max,” you whisper, your voice catching. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he says, his words a soft promise against your skin.

And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you know that no matter what the future holds, you’ll face it together.

***

The room buzzes with an electric energy, the kind that only the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony can create. It’s a night to honor champions, to toast to a season of victories, and to revel in the highs of motorsport. The crowd is a mix of drivers, team principals, engineers, and journalists, all dressed to the nines. You’re seated in the front row, a place reserved for the most important people in the room.

Max is on stage, holding his freshly polished World Championship trophy, the applause still roaring from the moment his name was called. His tuxedo fits him like a glove, and there’s a boyish grin on his face that makes him look impossibly proud — and a little nervous.

In your lap, your daughter wiggles, her tiny hands clutching at the hem of your sparkling gown. She’s too young to understand what’s happening, but the excitement of the room has her wide-eyed and curious. You adjust her slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as you watch Max step up to the microphone.

“Wow,” Max begins, his voice carrying over the hushed murmurs of the crowd. “What a year. What a … career.”

There’s a ripple of surprise at his choice of words. You feel it too, a sharp intake of breath as he pauses. He hasn’t told anyone outside of your family and a select few about his decision yet, and it hits you that this is the moment.

“I want to start by saying thank you,” Max continues, his accent thick with emotion. “To everyone who made this season possible. To my team at Red Bull — Christian, Helmut, GP, the engineers, the mechanics — every single person who has been part of this journey. We did this together. Five championships in the last five years … it still feels surreal.”

The room breaks into another round of applause, but Max raises a hand to quiet them.

“But tonight isn’t just about this trophy or this season,” he says, his voice steady despite the emotion creeping into it. “It’s about something bigger. About knowing when it’s time to close one chapter and start another.”

Your heart races, and you tighten your hold on your daughter as Max’s words hang in the air.

“When I was a kid, all I ever wanted was to race,” Max says, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “I grew up at circuits, watching my dad, dreaming of being in Formula 1. And for the last decade, this sport has been my whole life. It’s given me everything. It’s taught me more than I ever imagined — about hard work, about resilience, about pushing beyond what you think is possible.”

He pauses, his eyes flicking down to where you’re sitting. The faintest smile plays on his lips as your gazes meet, and you see the love and certainty there.

“But these past two years,” he continues, his voice softening, “I learned something else. That as much as I love this sport, there’s something I love more. Someone I love more.”

The murmurs in the crowd grow louder, heads turning to you. You feel your cheeks flush, but you keep your focus on Max, your heart pounding.

“Last season, I became a father,” Max says, his tone warming with pride. “And it changed everything. It changed the way I see the world, the way I see myself, and the way I think about my future. I realized that as much as I love racing, I don’t want to miss the little moments … the things that really matter.”

The room falls completely silent, everyone hanging on his every word.

“So,” Max says, his voice unwavering now, “tonight, as I accept this trophy, I also want to announce that this was my last season in Formula 1.”

Gasps ripple through the crowd, followed by stunned silence. Your daughter squirms in your arms, oblivious to the magnitude of what’s just been said.

Max smiles faintly, taking in the shocked faces in the room. “I know it might seem sudden,” he says, “but this is something I’ve thought about for a long time. I’ve achieved everything I could have dreamed of in this sport. I’ve worked with the best team in the world, competed against the best drivers in the world, and I leave with no regrets. But now, it’s time for me to focus on the next chapter of my life. On my family.”

He glances down at you again, and this time his gaze lingers. “Y/N, you and our daughter … you’re my everything. You’ve given me a reason to look beyond the racetrack, and for that, I’ll always be grateful.”

Your vision blurs with tears, and you can’t help but smile up at him. The crowd erupts into applause, some people rising to their feet in admiration and respect.

After a moment, Max raises a hand again, signaling for quiet. “I want to thank the fans,” he says, his voice growing steadier. “You’ve been with me through every win, every loss, every crazy overtake and late-breaking move. You’ve pushed me to be better every single day. And while I won’t be on the grid next season, I’ll always be part of this sport. It’s in my blood, and it always will be.”

The applause grows even louder this time, the room filling with a wave of emotion and admiration. You clap along, your daughter bouncing slightly in your arms at the sound.

When Max steps down from the stage, he comes straight to you. The cameras follow his every move, the flashes almost blinding as he crouches in front of you.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You nod, your throat too tight with emotion to speak.

He reaches for your daughter, lifting her into his arms with ease. She giggles, grabbing at the shiny lapel of his tuxedo, and Max laughs softly, the sound breaking through the tension in the room.

“We did it,” he says, his eyes locking with yours.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. “We did,” you whisper back.

***

The rest of the night is a blur of congratulations, handshakes, and emotional farewells. But through it all, Max stays by your side, his arm around your waist or his hand in yours.

As the event winds down, you find yourselves back in the car, your daughter sleeping peacefully in her car seat. The city lights blur past the windows, and Max leans back against the seat, exhaling deeply.

“That went better than I thought,” he says, his voice tinged with relief.

“You were incredible,” you tell him, resting your head on his shoulder.

He glances down at you, his expression soft. “Are you happy?”

You smile, lacing your fingers with his. “More than I ever thought I could be.”

And as the car carries you through the quiet streets, you realize that this is just the beginning of a new adventure — the one Max always knew was waiting for him.

***

Two Years Later

Lewis doesn’t plan to be on this street. He’s never liked taking the busy Monaco thoroughfares, even after all these years of calling the principality home. But a morning run had turned into aimless wandering, and now he’s here, jogging along the promenade, music blasting in his ears, trying to clear his head.

The past two years since Max retired have been strange. No fierce wheel-to-wheel battles with Verstappen, no reminders on the track of the rivalry that defined his career for so long. And yet, Max still lingers in his thoughts — like an echo, a shadow, a specter. Every headline about the Verstappens pops up in his feed: Max is spotted at home with his family. Max is thriving in retirement.

But it’s not Max that Lewis thinks about most. It’s you. It’s always been you.

Lewis slows his pace as he nears the bakery that used to be your favorite. He has no idea if you still come here, or if Monaco even feels like home to you anymore. He shakes his head, chastising himself for thinking like this. You’re gone. You’ve been gone.

But then, he hears it. A child’s voice, high-pitched and sweet, chattering happily. He instinctively looks over, and his feet stop moving altogether.

There you are.

You’re walking hand-in-hand with Max. Max, who looks completely at peace, a little older but no less recognizable. Beside him, a little girl. She’s animated as she talks to him, her tiny hand curled securely around his. And then, there’s the stroller. A navy blue, high-tech design Lewis recognizes from catalogs. Inside is a baby boy, fast asleep, his chubby face serene as he snoozes against the soft fabric.

Lewis feels the air leave his lungs.

You don’t see him. You’re busy talking to Max, laughing at something he says. You’re dressed casually, a flowy sundress swaying around your knees, sunglasses perched on your nose. Your free hand rests on the stroller handle, the gesture almost instinctive. The sight of you like this — effortless, happy, and surrounded by a family — sends a sharp pang through Lewis’ chest.

It’s everything he could’ve had. Everything he pushed away.

His feet are rooted to the spot. He should turn around, jog in the other direction, forget he ever saw you. But he can’t. He watches, transfixed, as your daughter stops mid-sentence to look up at you. “Mama,” she says brightly, tugging Max’s hand. “Can I have a croissant?”

Max chuckles. “You already had one,” he tells her, his voice gentle.

“But they’re so good!” She says, throwing her head back dramatically.

Lewis can’t stop staring. The little girl is Max’s spitting image, but there’s something about her smile, the way her nose scrunches, that reminds him of you.

And then, she notices him.

Your daughter’s bright eyes land on Lewis, and she grins like she’s just seen a new friend. “Hello!” She says, waving enthusiastically with her free hand.

You glance up, confused at first, following her gaze. Lewis freezes.

But it’s not him you’re looking at. It’s a man unloading bags from his car in front of him, and you nod politely before turning back to Max and your daughter.

Lewis exhales shakily, a mix of relief and a pang of disappointment. He steps back, half-hidden by the awning of a nearby café, watching as you and Max resume walking.

The little girl waves once more, still beaming, before Max gently nudges her along. “Come on, prinsesje,” he says. “Let’s not keep your brother waiting for his nap to be over.”

Lewis stays there, unmoving, as you all walk away. He watches the way Max leans toward you, saying something that makes you laugh again. He watches the way your daughter skips a little ahead, still clutching Max’s hand, her voice bubbling with excitement as she points to a pigeon fluttering by. And he watches you look down at the stroller, adjusting the blanket over the baby boy who sleeps so peacefully, oblivious to everything around him.

It’s a picture-perfect scene. A life filled with love and joy, one that Lewis now realizes — painfully, completely — he could have been part of.

The memories flood in uninvited.

The nights spent on this same Monaco promenade with you, your hand slipping into his as you admired the lights reflecting off the water. The quiet mornings when you’d sit at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and talking about what life might look like after racing. The promises he made and didn’t keep.

He thinks about the last time he saw you, about the anger and hurt in your eyes, about the way he walked out that night because he couldn’t bring himself to say the words you needed to hear. And now, here you are — walking down this same street with someone who isn’t afraid to put you first.

Lewis sinks onto a nearby bench, running a hand over his face. His chest feels tight, his breathing shallow. He thinks he’s moved on, that he’s made peace with the choices he’s made. But seeing you, seeing your family — it’s a wound he didn’t even realize was still open.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at the spot where you disappeared from view. Minutes? Hours? Long enough for his playlist to loop back to the beginning.

A group of tourists wanders past, laughing and snapping photos of the marina. Lewis doesn’t look up. He stays on the bench, shoulders slumped, the weight of what he’s lost pressing down on him.

By the time he makes it back to his apartment, the sun is setting over Monaco, casting the city in hues of orange and gold. He heads straight for the balcony, leaning heavily on the railing as he stares out at the water.

It should be a beautiful view, but tonight it feels empty.

For years, racing has been his everything. It’s been his escape, his purpose, his identity. But now, for the first time, he wonders if it was worth it.

Because no trophy, no title, no amount of glory could fill the space you once inhabited.

And for the first time, Lewis feels like the one who’s been left behind.

[rosiecosy]

come back home୨ৎ

(seventeen x reader) — angst, comfort

fights weren’t common between you and the boys, but when they happened, they always felt big.

tonight was no different.

you weren’t even sure how it started—something small, something dumb. maybe you were feeling overwhelmed, maybe they were frustrated too. but words were said, voices were raised, and suddenly, the walls of the dorm felt too tight, their voices too loud, the weight of their concern too heavy.

so you left.

you barely registered the way the door clicked shut behind you, barely noticed the cold bite of the night air against your skin. all you knew was that you needed space.

—

your feet carried you to the nearest park without much thought.

it was mostly empty at this hour, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. the only sound was the distant hum of passing cars, the occasional rustling of leaves. it was quiet. peaceful. a stark contrast to the suffocating tension in the dorm.

you wandered over to the swings, hands shoved into your pockets as you let out a slow breath.

maybe you had overreacted. maybe you should’ve just stayed and talked things through. but it was hard—being the youngest, the only girl in a dorm full of overprotective boys. they meant well, you knew that, but sometimes it was exhausting. too many opinions, too many voices telling you what to do, too many people hovering, worrying, questioning.

and you knew they only did it because they cared, but sometimes… sometimes you just needed to breathe.

you sat down on the swing, the chains creaking softly as you pushed off the ground. the rhythmic motion was soothing, the cool air helping to clear your mind. you closed your eyes, letting the weight of the night settle around you.

—

meanwhile, back at the dorm, the boys were spiraling.

"she’s not picking up," minghao muttered, lowering his phone.

"maybe she just needs a minute," vernon offered, though he sounded unsure.

"what if she doesn’t come back?" seokmin blurted out, eyes wide.

"don’t be ridiculous," woozi sighed, though his grip on his phone was tight.

"what if something happens to her?" mingyu asked, looking way too close to panicking.

"okay, enough," seungcheol cut in. "jun, jeonghan, joshua—you check the streets. hoshi, woozi, dino—stay here in case she comes back. the rest of us will check nearby cafés or parks."

"we’re not splitting up like a horror movie," jeonghan muttered, but he was already grabbing his coat.

—

you didn’t know how long you had been swinging when you heard footsteps approaching.

you blinked, slowing your movement, turning your head just in time to see seokmin and mingyu jogging toward you, relief washing over their faces the second they spotted you.

"there you are!" seokmin huffed, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

"we’ve been looking everywhere," mingyu added, slightly breathless.

you blinked at them, a little guilty but mostly just tired. "i was just getting some air."

your phone buzzed in your pocket—seungcheol’s name flashing across the screen. you hesitated before answering.

"…hi?"

"where are you? are you safe? why didn’t you answer your phone?"

"i’m fine," you sighed. "i just needed to clear my head."

"stay where you are. we’re coming."

you didn’t get a say in it.

—

when you got back to the dorm, thirteen pairs of eyes were on you.

seungcheol looked like he wanted to lecture you. seungkwan looked like he wanted to cry. dino looked like you had personally betrayed him.

"i was literally gone for, like, twenty minutes," you pointed out.

"twenty minutes too long," hoshi muttered.

"don’t do that again," jeonghan sighed, pulling you into a hug.

"we thought you left for good," dino mumbled.

your expression softened. "what? why would i do that?"

they all exchanged awkward glances.

"…because of the fight?" jun said hesitantly.

you blinked. "guys."

"you left without saying anything," joshua pointed out.

"because i knew i’d come back," you said. "i just needed some space, that’s all."

seungcheol exhaled, rubbing his temples. "just—next time, tell someone, okay?"

guilt crept in at the worry in his voice. "okay. i’m sorry."

they all nodded, still looking a little shaken but relieved.

"now, group hug?" seokmin suggested.

before you could protest, you were pulled into a mess of arms, warmth, and way too much body heat.

"okay, okay, i get it!" you laughed. "i’m not going anywhere."

"good," woozi muttered. "because that was awful."

"never again," seungkwan mumbled into your shoulder.

and despite everything—despite the fight, despite the worry—this felt like home.

[zacolyn]

-Steeples fingers- So personal thing and all that, but I am heavily into the story of my WoL and boy howdy did things happen concerning Garlemald.

So my boy Albert is Ala Mhigan, the same age as Lyse and the beginning of his story is starving with his father in Stonesthrow. He grows up to loathe and despise Garleans to the point he’s exactly the kind of Eorzean the Garlean propaganda talks about. He’s practically the poster boy of ‘they think we’re lesser and will oppress us if we don’t oppress them first’. He wants them extinct as a race (oh except for Lucia and Cid, they’re ‘good’ Garleans, you see. Later this will come to include Gaius with severe side eye and only because of Werlyt).

Anyway, with this rampant hatred of most Garleans, the Scions see a bit of a….troubling side of him during Stormblood, in which he is not the sweet, understanding and overall caring WoL they thought he was. Instead they witness an openly bloodthirsty man who delights in the suffering of any Garlean in his sights and he has no kindness for Fordola either. She is a traitor and in his eyes deserves to be tortured for it (yes, even after the Echo shows him her memories).

Shadowbringers was sure something with Emet-Selch, the cause of all his suffering. He eventually sort of forgave him but in a ‘cool motive still murder, and I’ll remember you and your people, but you will not be honored for causing the death of mine’ kind of way.

Anyway, now we get into Endwalker and here I had to actually had to have him possessed by Ardbert for literally up until sometime after we leave Garlemald for a while because if the Scions had thought he was out for blood in Stormblood, at least those were trained soldiers. As much as it had frustrated me when those girls died because the propaganda machine had convinced them Eorzeans were evil, they’d never have had the chance to run from my WoL. Albert would have somehow ensured the twins were away, and he would have killed every single one of those people.

So instead the Garleans get Ardbert. There’s a good plot reason this happens that I won’t get into, but Ardbert can feel and is aware of Albert’s blind and irrational level hatred and he does his best to soothe it. (Albert’s wife also tries to help because she grew up with Albert and knows how bad he is about this, but mostly it’s Ardbert because they’re brain buddies).

All of this to say; it actually made me kind of sick to my stomach to know what my muse would do to these people. It’s in character for him, but he is utterly blind to his hypocrisy and it made that part of Endwalker look interesting to me as well as the evolution of his character thanks to Ardbert.

WRT the Garlemald portion of EW: I'm sure that for a lot of FFXIV's history players have been wondering what it would be like to reach Garlemald proper in-game, and daydreaming of epic battles, maybe a sense of "conquering the conquerers"

And it is so, so genius of EW to not give you that.

You don't get any glory or revenge in defeating the evil empire, they already self-destructed on their own. You can't really revel in it. If you're feeling particularly vindictive you might look at the rubble and silently think "Serves you right!" or "Good riddance to bad rubbish." but no matter how much you may have hated the Empire in the past it's hard not to pity what's left.

See, the thing about Garlemald is that in their prejudice and conquest they treated everyone who isn't them as subhuman. But in the end you are all human beings, and so are they. The Empire isn't a nameless, faceless evil, it's a war machine created by the beliefs of humans who saw other humans as inhuman. By helping the survivors you are not only doing the right thing, the human thing to do, you are also disproving their prejudice in the process by reminding them that you're all human. (I'm using the word "human" in abstract sense here, not to refer just to the Hyuran race of FFXIV, but all the races of sentient beings, all deserving of rights, respect, etc.)

I'm trying to shine a light on the significance of this part of the story because it seems like some people have conflicted feelings about helping citizens of a facist former empire, but it would be sheer Reading Comprehension Stat: None to assume that that means FFXIV is condoning their ideology. In fact, it would be antithetical to FFXIV's optimistic, pro-humanity, love-and-peace, a-better-world-is-possible -type philosophy if we instead left the survivors to starve.

[melanchoire]

cld you do giselle and reader roomates who “help” eachother when horny? ^^

cw: ass eating, cunnilingus, fingering, scissoring, 69ning.

i see giselle capable of doing this 😭 you could be sitting on the couch of the living room on any given day of the week in the afternoon, focused on completing homework when she plops down on the couch and says “oh my god i’m so horny right now” 💀

it would take you so by surprise that you would have to turn to look at her hoping that she was joking, but she looks so frustrated and disappointed that you feel like she’s not completely joking...

you know giselle’s reputation, her typical routine of partying all weekend and kissing or sleeping with as many people as possible, and you weren’t against that! she is attractive and has a hot body, you would fall for it too

“can’t you just, i don’t know, text one of your many boyfriends?”

“ugh, sexting isn’t the same as fucking. i want to get laid, not dick pics.”

and well— you loved giselle's honesty, but sometimes it was too much even for you or for her own good

“don’t you want to help me? you know, fuck and stuff.”

“giselle what the fuck—?”

“oh shut up, (y/n).” and she takes the computer off your lap and places it on the coffee table, climbs onto your lap and takes your hands to guide them to her ass 😳 you would have refused if it weren’t for the fact that you were focused on her tits practically pressed against your face and the feeling of her ass in your hands… giselle is hot as hell and you wouldn’t miss the chance to fuck her! honestly, it’s something you’ve wanted for a long time

dry hump with giselle on your lap with a steamy session of messy and sloppy kisses as you two grope each other’s bodies, squeezing tits and pinching nipples through the thin fabric of t-shirts or gropping each other's asses playfully 😵‍💫 both giselle and you wanted this for a long time and it shows in how you never hesitate before your actions

69ning with gigi with her on top 🥴 you always looked at her ass when she wore very short pants or just ones that really accentuated her attributes, so when she made you lay on your back on the couch you almost drooled watching her sit on your face with her pussy on your mouth and her ass lowering onto your face...

moaning into each other’s pussy because you two are fingering each other at a fast pace, massaging her thighs and squeezing the skin between your fingers or spanking her to make her squeal and leave finger marks on her creamy skin🫠 taking advantage to start to tease giselle, parting her buttocks and giving a long and slow one all over her slit, from her clit to her ass, grinning against her when you hear the shaky moan that leaves her lips

giselle can only moan against your pussy, and that’s all for giselle to start enjoying your teasing. stopping the actions of her mouth on you to end up sitting properly on your face, tilting her head and throwing her messy hair over her shoulder as she moves her hips against your mouth and begins to lose herself in pleasure 🥴 but she’s not selfish! she knows you’re just as horny as she is, so being the kind roommate she is, she ends up riding your mouth at the same time as she fingers you and uses her other hand to rub your clit 💕

even when her juices are gushing out of her pussy and soaking your entire face, she's not done yet! but the moment she lifted her ass from your face she directly positioned herself between your legs, aligning her pussy with yours but in a reverse way in which she was turning her back to you because she enjoyed more than she should the sharp spankings that you provided her at all times 🥰

gigi being so exhausted but wanting to continue 😔 laying on her side and lazily making out with you, pressing her sticky, sweaty body against yours and saying “c’mon, (y/n). just one more. i need one more.” looking so attractive with her messy hair and sweaty forehead 😩 giselle being so insatiable that you don’t understand how she can calm her needs when she is alone 😭 but she is lucky that from now on, whenever she has a problem, her roommate will be here willing to help her

[kiyoomiee]

Your bestfriend, Yuuji’s older half-brother Sukuna, who always had this grudge towards you and you can’t pinpoint why.

You first met him during summer break. Your couldn’t keep up with your dorm fees anymore and happened to mention it to Yuuji one time.

“You could stay with me! I have a spare room nobody’s using.”

“Are you sure Yuuji? I don’t want to impose on you.”

“Of course I’m sure. You don’t even have to pay rent or anything.”

A home that’s close to uni and has no fees? It was heaven sent for a broke college student!

“That’s the last of them. Thank you Yuuji, I really appreciate the help. If there’s anything I could do around here just let me know.” You told him after dropping your stacking your last moving box into your new room.

“No problem. Just a heads up though, my brother also lives with me. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, it’s fine with me.” Your famous last words.

You should’ve headed the red flags when Yuuji tried to warn you about his brother.

“Sukuna can be..difficult sometimes. But it’d be nice if you two would be friends. If not, ehh, just avoid him if you can.”

You should’ve headed the red flags when Yuuji tried to warn you about his brother.

To say that Sukuna had a bad day at the tattoo shop was an understatement. His new assistant never arrived, he was dealing with a shit client plus, his ink almost ran out.

His frustration echoed throughout the two-storey house when he slammed the front door shut.

He was confused by the smell coming from the kitchen as he walked in. Is Yuuji cooking? Nah, his idiot brother would burn the house down if he even tried to get near the kitchen.

Instead, he finds a woman’s figure busy behind the kitchen counter. It made him stop his tracks.

Beautiful, he thought. But too young for Sukuna’s taste. Plus, he doesn’t like it when a stranger touches his favorite spot in the house.

So great, his bad day is about to become worse.

“Who. The. Fuck. Are you?” You almost screamed when your eyes went to the man that appeared behind you.

He looked similar to Yuuji, but the aura was very different. His build was larger, jaw sharper, and he had looked furious.

Oh, he must be Yuuji’s brother, Sukuna. You tensed up unintentionally while his eyes wandered on what you’re wearing.

“You one of Yuuji’s girls? I told him not to bring his hookups here.” He uttered, eyes not leaving yours.

You wore a tank top with cotton pajama shorts. You looked too comfortable just to be visiting.

“No! I-I’m Yuuji’s friend. It’s nice to meet you.” You said nervously.

“Can’t say the same sweetheart. I’m not so fond of strangers in my house. So open the front door and walk outside.”

What? Is he kicking you out?

“Wait! Yuuji didn’t tell you? He allowed me to stay at the spare room down the hall.”

“He what?” Sukuna was fuming. Every step he took closer to you looked like he was going to eat you alive.

“YUUJI!” His voice thundered all over the house.

“I-I think he’s sleeping in his room.” You winced at the string of curses that came out of his mouth.

“Whatever conversation you had with my dumb brother, it’s not happening. You can’t stay here.”

“But it’s the start of the semester, I can’t find a new dorm in a snap!”

“You shouting at me, girl?”

“N-No, I mean-just please, I can take care of the house. I can even cook for you. I can’t afford to leave, not right now.”

Before Sukuna could open his mouth, Yuuji’s footsteps rang out from the stairs.

“Sukuna, you’re back! Wait, did something happen?” Yuuji looks at your nervous face.

“Yeah we’ve met alright.” Sukuna muttered, arms crossing to his chest.

“Yuuji, your brother’s kicking me out.” You tried to hide behind Yuuji’s form.

“What? You can’t kick her out!”

“I can because it’s my goddamn house. If don’t want some girl in here, she’s got to go.”

“You can’t! To be fair, I did tell you that my friend’s staying with us for a while and you agreed.”

Yeah he did agree but he thought that black haired kid was moving in, not you.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Sukuna exclaimed and you could tell he’s about to lose it.

“I’ll stay out of your way all the time, I promise. You won’t even notice I’m here.” You pleaded him.

“Yeah, I doubt that. Clean up your damn mess.” He said harshly and glared at you before stomping his way upstairs.

“I’m so sorry. My brother’s not so good at making first impressions.” Yuuji pouted.

He’s an asshole, you wanted to say.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad he didn’t kick me out.” You exhaled in relief.

If that was his reaction during your first meeting then what about the upcoming months?

“He won’t. I’m sure you’ll grow on him, you kinda have that effect on people.” Yuuji tried to cheer you up but you just gave him a faint smile.

Yeah, somehow you doubt that would work on Sukuna.

——————————————————

note: Sukuna is 29 in this fic and your age gap is 6 years. I don’t like doing age gap with minors, so just think that everyone in this fic are 18+.

[fairyhaos]

❖ kiss your heart // xu minghao

minghao x f!reader, 1.1k+ words

tags: established relationship, both xmh + yn are RICH rich, fluff, kissing, marriage/proposal talks, minghao is literally so in love omfg

warnings: pet names (angel, sweetheart)

notes: literally me rambling about rich + devoted minghao with absolutely no direction planned and i think it's super obvious HELPP but it does not matter !! ur honor i luv these 2 theyre so sassy smitten and it devastates me

“you’re actually the worst person i’ve ever met.”

you glare at your boyfriend as he gets out of the driver’s seat, walks around the front of the parked car and opens your door for you. he’s still smiling that faintly smug smile that’s been on his stupidly handsome face ever since you left the restaurant, and you hate it.

“sweetheart,” minghao says, taking hold of your hand and helping you out of the car, “it’s really no big deal.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. releasing minghao’s hand, you deposit your purse into his waiting palm and flounce away, across the car park and to the apartment building doors.

minghao struggles to hold back a laugh as he trails after you. “y/n. you’re not truly mad, are you?”

“of course i’m truly mad,” you huff. “you said i could pay for our date this time.” 

during the five years you’ve been dating minghao, he’s taken you on a whole variety of incredible dates. from the impromptu long weekend to paris to the days where you just go to the restaurant down the block for dinner, minghao has never failed to take care of you and always pays for your meal.

any other person would be flattered to have such a rich and devoted boyfriend. and really, you adore that about him, too.

but, well. you’re rich also. and sometimes, you want to be the one to dote on your boyfriend.

you punch in the building code unnecessarily hard and stomp through the automatic doors before minghao can catch up with you. from behind, you can hear him laughing, and it makes you whirl back around to look at him, pouting extravagantly.

“i don’t see why that’s so funny. you promised, hao,” you whine, and minghao just laughs again.

that night had been just a normal date night, nothing more than the two of you dressing up to go to that one upscale chinese place that you both love. and so, it seemed like the best day to finally start paying for your dates—if it was any big occasion, minghao would’ve definitely protested against the idea, insistent that he wanted to treat you on such a special day.

and at the time, it seemed like it would work.

minghao had smiled at you, adjusting the pearls around your neck, and agreed.

you’d felt ridiculously satisfied, excited at the fact that finally, you’d have a chance to pay for your boyfriend. but oh, how wrong you were.

“i’m sorry, angel,” minghao says now, brushing a finger over your cheek fondly before pressing the ‘up’ button for the elevator. “it just so happened that i’d already paid for our meal before we’d even got there. i didn’t want to burst your bubble by telling you so, but i guess that made it even worse, hm?”

you whine again in frustration. “hao, that’s not even a thing! you can’t pay for a meal in advance!”

“i can when i know exactly what we’re going to order,” minghao grins.

“what?! i swear, that must go against restaurant etiquette! that's actually crazy behaviour. i can't believe you did that."

the elevator arrives then, and minghao gestures for you to get in first. you do, still arguing with him over restaurant rules and whatnot. even as you do so, supposedly very upset over his behaviour, you still hold onto his arm and lean against him to take off your heels, and then pass them over to him once they’re off your aching feet.

minghao smiles amusedly, terribly smitten. 

“—going to get you back for that stunt one day, xu minghao,” you say, stabbing an accusing finger into his shoulder. “gonna book out the entire restaurant. no, wait, the entire street! we’re going to venice one day, and i’m going to close down a whole road for us only. just you wait.”

the elevator doors open with a ding, and he trails behind as you continue talking, dreaming up big plans on how to treat your boyfriend sometime in the future.

it’s devastatingly endearing. he knows it was maybe a tiny, tiny bit mean to advance-pay the bill tonight, but in his defence, he does that most nights anyway. plus, he likes seeing how pouty you get over it, knowing you're not actually upset, but still insisting you are because you can pay for your own meals, without minghao's card, thank you very much.

and you very much can—he hasn’t run the numbers in a while, but he’s pretty sure you’re richer than him right now—but he likes paying for you. likes taking care of you like this.

he inputs the keycode to the apartment, chuckling as you continue to rant.

“okay, alright,” he finally concedes, opening the door and letting you enter first, taking off your wool coat for you and hanging it up by the door. “in which case, how about a compromise? i pay for our ordinary dates like these, and you can pay for special occasions.”

your eyes light up at his words. “wait, really?”

minghao laughs. “yes, really.” he puts your purse on the dresser by the door, your shoes in the shoe cupboard and then takes off his own. “except for valentine’s day, white day, our anniversary, and your birthday. i’ll be paying for those.”

“what?” you complain. “hao, you’re leaving me with nothing!”

“you can pay for my birthday.”

“come on, that’s a given. i would do that anyway.”

you’re giving him those big, sad eyes again, and minghao can’t help but smile even wider. lord, you’re just so pretty and you love him so much and he’s never been more grateful for that because he loves you so much too.

“well,” he says, pretending to think, “we don’t have an engagement or wedding anniversary yet. so if those things ever happen… then maybe…”

your eyes widen, little sparkles appearing in your irises even as your entire face softens, gentle and hopeful. “you’re… you want to marry me?”

minghao can’t take this anymore. he walks over, takes your face in his hands and kisses you, once. and then again, deeper, softer, for good measure. just to get his point across.

“of course,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away. “i love you.”

you lean in and peck him on the lips once more. “i love you too,” you say, and then pull away so he can see the mischievous glint in your eyes. “hey. if i propose to you, then i’ll definitely get to pay for every engagement anniversary we have, right?”

minghao laughs, pulling you back into his embrace. “sure, sweetheart. that’s only if you propose to me first, however.”

“are you trying to start a proposal race, minghao?”

“maybe. will you join in, y/n?”

you laugh, looping your arms behind his neck and bringing his face close to yours again. “oh, it’s on.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery

[ghostgirl-22]

hear me out… remote vibrator follow up where they do it again when Tashi’s around and she doesn’t know what they’re up to right away. naturally, she picks up on it. Art puts up a little fight about doing it in front of her, but Patrick knows the idea is secretly just as thrilling to Art as it is to him

oof! This is from 100 years ago. Sorry my love!

CW: 18+, NSFW, sex in public, not quite exhibitionism but also not, not exhibitionism.

—-

One of Tashi’s favorite things is when they talk without saying anything.  one doesn’t even have to complete a sentence for the other to understand it. the way they act, mirroring each other, it’s like how lovers act when they’ve known each other forever. She clocked them right away. Longing looks. Biting sighs. Her boyfriend and his best friend want to fuck each other if they haven’t already. They’re barely able to hide it anymore. and god does it turn her on. 

She admits, she does get a little frustrated sometimes, it’s like trying to have a conversation with two people where everything they say is an inside joke. 

Like tonight. 

Only Patrick would let his best friend crash a Valentines day date. Only Tashi would put up with it. it’s like she’s dating both of them. It’s like they’re dating each other. Patrick’s just grinning at Art all through dinner, while Art glares back at him antsy and barely able to meet his gaze. “Okay what’s going on?” She finally asks, looking between them. 

“Hm… nothing,” Art says quickly. 

“One of us lost a bet,” Patrick smirks. “Again.” 

She grins and focuses on Art. “What did you bet on?”    

“Uh it doesn’t matter.” Art says quickly and he looks to Patrick, eyes glassy, cheeks coloring.   

“He thought he could handle his liquor better than me but I’m the undisputed champ,” Patrick pets her thigh and then drops his phone on the table in front of her. It’s an app with what looks like a volume button labeled from 0 to 10. Right now it’s at a 1. 

“What is this?” She asks. 

“His punishment,” Patrick says gently. 

Tashi cocks her head, looking between him and Art, a little smile on her face. “I don’t get it?” 

“Well… pick a number.” Patrick says and Art shakes his head. 

“Patrick don’t, come on… she’s…” 

“Ten,” Tashi interrupts. 

Patrick grins and Art’s mouth falls open. “You really wanna do that to him?” 

“I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing, Patrick so yeah. Let’s go all the way.” Tashi says, only mildly annoyed. “He’s not gonna die is he?” 

“Nah,” Patrick says,”unless you can die of embarrassment.”

art shakes his head. “No Tashi you don’t understand, It’s a restaurant… this is public we could get in trouble.” his blush is getting out of control, he’s kinda gorgeous.

“Oh come on, it’s packed,” Patrick grins. “No one’s even paying attention.”  He slides the dial up slowly. Tashi’s a pretty quick study. Something inside her had a feeling they were doing something sexual. Still, watching Art squirm in his seat, skin heated, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut as he sits on his palms, gently rocking, trying not to come from whatever device Patrick is controlling… Tashi squeezes her thighs together. 

Patrick chuckles and slides it back down to one. Art is still squirming, sitting on his hands. Tashi’s a little fixated on him. His chest rising and falling rapidly. He looks at her, pleading in his eyes, like she might be the only one who can save him from big mean Patrick. There’s something else in his expression too. Something dirtier. Needier. He fucking likes this.

“What do you think?” Patrick asks. His eyes are all sparkly, mischievous, Tashi can practically see through to the deceptively charming boy that he probably was as a kid. 

The idea of Art losing a bet and Patrick’s first thought being to make him wear a sex toy that he can play with. The idea that Art would just…go along with it. There’s something so deeply fucked up about them. So fundamentally messy. 

“What kinda toy is it?” She tosses her ponytail over her shoulder, trying to act nonchalant but she’s wet. This whole thing has her feeling a little crazy. 

“Vibrator,” Patrick says, pulling her ponytail back where it was, he leans in close because he’s got no concept of personal space but also so he can whisper. “Cock ring tight over the head of his dick.”

Tashi swallows and glances back at Art. 

“He’s crazy…it’s his crazy idea.” Art says like he’s not complicit, like he’s not wiggling in his seat, voice all breathy. Eyes shining. 

“Oh you’re both crazy,” she says softly but she reaches for Patricks phone anyway. “Maybe I should be in charge for a while.

Patrick smirks at her. “Whatever you want.” 

Art looks relieved for a moment before she slides it back up to three. He can barely focus on his desert. Instead he’s just trying to hold it in, sucking on his spoon, eyes dilated. Can’t even look at the waitress who’s been flirting with him all night when she comes back with the check. 

It goes like that for the rest of the night. Tashi takes a turn and then Patrick. Art getting more and more desperate. He seems to realize that Patrick is the one playing good cop. He gives Art a little break after dinner, they share a cigarette while they wait for a cab to the club, Patrick standing too close to him, fingers in his hair. Telling him he’s taking it so well. Art with his lips parted, like a little magnet, drawn to Patrick’s every lingering touch. Tashi thinks she knows what he needs. 

She makes Art sit in the middle seat when they crowd into the cab and snatches the phone back from Patrick. 

Their driver is so talkative. Wants to know everything about them and tell them everything about San Francisco. And Patrick’s just engaging him. “Oh we all go to Stanford,” he lies. “Straight As.”

“Tashi please,” Art whispers but she just smiles. 

“Relax. I’m just checking to see if he’s texting other girls.” She pats his upper thigh and immediately she can feelthe hot, hard line of his dick resting on his thigh, the device fixed over it. He lets out a sharp intake of breath. Patrick’s watching them as their driver goes on and on about the city. Patrick’s got a silly little grin on his face as Tashi slides her palm up and down Art’s length, it has the same effect on Art as if she’d turned on the device. He’s breathless, kicking his leg forward gasping, biting back on a whispered “fuck.” 

Tashi uses her free hand to turn it up and she can feel it vibrating against her palm. Eventually he’s turning into her. Breathing in her ear, hot and heavy. She wiggles in her seat. “It’s okay,” she whispers.  

It’s barely five minutes before he’s moaning, lips pressed against her ear, her cheek. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck. It’s… I’m gonna… I’m…I’m…” he can’t help getting a little too loud. She feels it as his dick spasms and he’s probably spurting come all inside his boxers,  gasping softly into her ear.   

“Everything okay?” The driver wants to know. Obliviously chatty with Patrick this whole time but his concerned gaze flickers to Tashi, to Art.  “He’s not going to throw up is he? Because I can pull over.” 

“Oh he’s fine,” Tashi says, her voice lighter than normal. She cups her palm around the side of Art’s face and turns down the device with her other hand. “He’s good.”

”A bit of carsickness but he’s fine,” Patrick waves it off. 

“Well let me know. I can pull over.” 

Patrick gives her an amused look and she pets art, letting him rest on her shoulder as he catches his breath.

They’re just outside the club waiting to get in and Patrick is playful. “You little slut, right in the backseat. You can’t control yourself, can you?” He teases, bodying Art up against the wall of the club they’re waiting to get into. 

“‘m not a slut. T-Tashi… Tashi turned it up,” Art points out. Flustered for the way Patrick is using his size against him.  

“Snitch,” Tashi says quietly to Art. She’s looking over other settings on the app. Pulse, vibrate, massage. She sets it to pulse and switches it back on to one. Art gasps.   

“God Tashi,” Patrick leans against the wall next to Art and reaches for her, she steps closer and he pulls her by the wrist, closer still, before taking the phone back and wrapping an arm around her waist. “You like it too much.” 

“No i don’t,” she says softly. 

“Yeah right, you’re so fucking wet aren’t you?” he whispers. She rolls her eyes, but he knows her well enough by now. They’re basically standing directly in front of Art when he kisses her. So close, Patrick grins at Art when she pulls away. Hes such a brat. 

He gets his turn inside the club. They’re downing shots. Patrick buys a bottle and they get a spot in VIP. They’re drinking way too much and dancing with strangers, with each other all night. Tashi with Patrick, Patrick with Art, Art grinding against her. That’s when Patrick turns it up, like he’s giddy to see what will happen with the vibration between the two of them.

She can feel it, pulsing hard against her wet panties as Art is basically pressed up against her. He falls onto the big square sofa seating in the center and she follows him, grinding down against his thigh and he’s immediately falling apart. Fingers in her hair, moaning into her. It’s basically simulated sex, dress riding up her thighs, panties soaked. knees dug in on either side, she’s riding the pulsation while the music sounds, TI Whatever you Like blaring too loud on the speakers.  And before she realizes what’s happening she’s kissing him, gripping him, coming on his lap. 

Art’s looking up at her after, breathless, like he’s in love. “Guess i took care of both of you.” Patrick says, grinning. “Two for the price of one.” He leans in to kiss Tashi and she sighs against his lips. Shivering for the gentle heat of it.

Then he sits next to Art… and teases his hair out of his eyes before pecking his lips. Art pulls him close and kisses him properly. Tashi giggles, still settled on Art’s lap while people all around their section are still screaming the song lyrics, drunkenly dancing, lifting drinks, spilling. It’s actually her favorite thing. 

She snatches the phone from Patrick’s waiting hand. She doesn’t feel it anymore so he must’ve shut it off. But she thinks maybe Art has a little more in him. She opens the app and slides it back up.

(Playing fast and loose with time, technology, phones, apps, music and the challengers story/characters but… also… yay i think this vibrator could have fixed them!)

[megs-1800]

No Strings Attached

Summary: Friends with benefits is always difficult especially when one of you catch feelings. Will Mason have the same feelings or will you lose him forever?

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Angst, Fluff and Smut

“T-that was i-incredible” Mason pants as he rolls off me and flops himself on the bed next to me trying to catch his breathe. “Our sex always is incredible” I say rolling onto my stomach crashing my arm onto his chest whilst he tickles up and down it. I look into Mason’s eyes which I can see the spotlight from the ceiling are making them sparkle. Fuck he is so gorgeous. Mason sits up and looks at the time “I probably should make a move, I got training early tomorrow morning”. I give him puppy eyes hoping he would stay but I knew what I signed up for. Mason and I met a year ago, my best friend Paige is dating Ben Chilwell, she introduced me to Mason at a party of theirs. At the time I was happily engaged but the bastard ended up cheating on me, well turns out he was cheating all along. Me and Mason got drunk and ended up sleeping together, but from there we kind of just stayed a type of friends with benefits, he was there for me when I needed and vice versa. ‘No strings attached’ we said. “When am I next seeing you?” I ask and Mason gives me a smirk as he looks me up and down. “I will call you yeah”. I wink at him knowing he always calls.

I didn’t hear from Mason for the next couple of days but that’s not out of the ordinary, we go days not talking then we can go days with non-stop talking. I could say he is on the border of being one of my best friends, if I being honest he knows me better then I know myself sometimes, but I feel like we could never be proper friends due to our activities together. I throw myself on the sofa after a awfully long week, I turn on the TV and see that United are playing, it’s a Saturday early game so not much else to watch and thought it would be nice to show Mason some support. That’s why Mason hasn’t been talkative he has been putting his all into preparing for the game I thought. However 38 minutes into the game I watch how the opposition player tackles Mason and takes him completely down, I watch how he is screaming and rolling around in pain. I can see the pain in his eyes, I know he is more annoyed at being taken off rather than the pain of the tackle, he has worked so hard to get back and already being subbed must kill him. I quickly text him knowing that when he is free he will respond:

Y/N: How you feeling? x

I couple of hours passed and I hear my phone buzz and looking down and seeing Mason has replied:

M: Like shit how do you think I am feeling

Y/N: sorry silly question x

I feel bad for him but I didn’t know what else to say, I am taken back by his bluntness but I know he is hurting right now, I know deep down he doesn’t mean it. Another hour passed and my phone buzzes again:

M: Sorry y/n/n its just so frustrating you know I worked so hard for what, to play 38 minutes its just shit. The press has already slaughtered me, I just feel like shit but I don’t mean to take it out on you xx

Y/N: Don’t listen to the stupid press they just want a story. You are amazing Mase, injuries happen that’s the joys of being a footballer but don’t let them get you down. You know I am always your number one fan. I will whip you back into fitness in no time ;) xx

M: I can always count on you to make me laugh. Chilly said you are out with Paige tonight but I don’t suppose you can come here beforehand please? You can get ready here, I just hate being alone right now xxx

Y/N: I am already on my way superstar xxx

I quickly pack all of things that I would need for the night and then make my way to Masons. Everytime I go there it leaves me speechless, it definitely puts my one bedroom flat to shame. Mason opens the door, I can see he is wearing a pair of shorts and has he left ankle wrapped and is limping to the sofa. “Can I do anything?” I ask assessing his wounds. “you can do a lot of things” he raises his eyebrows and smirks seductively, he quickly continues “I am joking, you can get me a jumper please I just cannot bring myself to tackle the stairs yet”. I nod and quickly run upstairs and grab my favourite hoodie of his. I run back down the stairs and give it to him, he looks at me and smiles “how did I know you were going to get me this one” he laughs “am I that predictable?”. I make me and Mason a cup of tea and come join him on the sofa. He puts his arm up so I can turn my body into his chest, he has his ankle rest up in front of him. He continues to stoke my hair and we sit there in silence for what feels like forever. I go to look at the time, “jheez I gotta start getting ready” I start to move which Mason holds me tighter. “5 more minutes you have no idea how easy you take away the pain”. I smile into his chest, I love that I have that impact on him.

I look at myself in the mirror as I make one more curl in my hair, I am wearing a short black dress with laced sleeves and I matched it with a pair of black heels. I carefully make my way downstairs, I watch as Mason’s eyes look up from his phone and his eyes follow up and down, as I do a little playful swirl “you look insane” Mason states and I can feel myself blush. As I walk over to get my bag I heard my phone ding, I walk over to check it and my face drops “whats up?” Mason looks at me concerned. I take my heels off and flop myself on the sofa next to Mason “well that’s Paige cancelling last minute- again!” I groan. Mason looks at me sympathetically “has she cancelled on you a lot?”  I nod to his question “yeah since she got with Chilly she has all her WAG friends now so I am kind of second best. I still love her but I guess she has more important places to be” I say defeated feeling sorry for myself.

Mason smiles “well we can party here?”  I look at him and laugh “what with you that has one leg and is on strong painkillers so cannot drink? Great party!” I joke back. Mason clutches his chest where his heart is like I hurt his feelings “ouch!” I jab him in arm “thank you for making me feel better. Well I guess one good thing is I could go and put a tracksuit on and stuff my face now” I start to make my way upstairs when I hear him shout “You can wear that new tracksuit of mine that you like, I will order your favourite”.

I am laughing away with Mason, I am wearing his new Gucci oversized tracksuit, its massive on him so it drowns me but I am so comfortable. “I have never known someone who looks as beautiful all dressed down as they do all dressed up. You are going to make someone a real lucky guy one day”. I can feel myself blush at Mason’s words, he always knew how to pull on the heart strings. “Why you being so cute Mount? You wanna get into my knickers or something?” I heard him laugh and then lean in close to me “Maybeee?” I snigger at his comment “well you are in no state to ‘rock my world’ tonight Mase” he learns back and raises his eyebrows at me “Maybe but I bet even with my injured ankle I am still the best sex you ever had”. I laugh, I love how he has such a big ego.

Another hour passes, “its getting late I best get going” Mason gives me pleading eyes “please stay y/n. I need help to get up the stairs please” I nod “okay  I will help you up the stairs and into bed then I am leaving”. Mason gives me a slow nod in response but I can tell there is something deeper in his eyes. I help him hobble up the stairs as I allow him to put the pressure onto me, I am struggling under his weight but I am determined to get him there. We eventually make it to his bedroom and I help him walk over to the bed. “I still cannot get over this room, this room is the size of my whole flat”. Mason shrugs his shoulders “perks of being a footballer I suppose”. He starts to get underdressed and I quickly shield my eyes “right I need to be going. Thanks for tonight Mase”. Mason pats the spot next to him in bed “why do you hide away its not like you haven’t seen it all before, but come join me” I hesitate for a minute but I know he will win. “There is a pair of my boxers and tshirts in the drawer you can wear for now” I thanked him and put them all.

His glaze doesn’t leave mine as he watches me get into his clothes “I have never known someone to look so fit in a pair of mens boxers you know” I am taking that compliment. I throw the covers back and join him in bed “I never get over how big and comfy this bed is” I stretch out as I show gratitude to the bed. Mason leans in and tickles up and down my sides which gives me goosebumps, he then extends his hands strokes the sides of my face “you are so beautiful never let anyone tell you different” I lean in closer to Mason so our lips are brushing against eachother “you are full of compliments tonight Mount”.

With that our lips come crashing together, our tongues fighting for dominance which I eventually allow Mason control, I always end up giving into him. I can feel Mason grinding his hips into mine and the blunge between us becoming apparent, Mason moves him lips to my neck and I cannot stop the moans that come out. I reach down to take him in my hands and I feel Mason stop my hands, I look at him confused. “I am not going to last long I need to be inside you” I nod knowing exactly what he means, I am in no mood for foreplay I need to feel that dick stretch me out. He removes his pants and climbs on top of me and puts legs so they wrap around his waist he slides the boxers I am wearing to the side and slowly lines himself up with me. “F-fuck” he moans into my neck “I love feeling that pussy stretch out for me” Mason starts a slow pace then it hits me “Mase your ankle lets swap” I offer. Mason shakes his head and continues his pace, I can hear him getting harder and faster and I know that he is close and he is edging me closer too. I can then feel his pace slow down and then I see him wince “swap�� I demand and Mason gives him and flops down next to me “sorry I want to ruin you right now, bloody fucking ankle”. I kiss him to shut him up as I climb on top of him, I usually hate being on top as I am insecure about my body but Mason makes me feel so comfortable, I have no objections. I line him up with my entrance and slowly lower myself down, we grown in unity as I start to bounce up and down on his dick. He removes the tshirt I am wearing and starts playing with my tits, I can feel his fingers grazing over my nipple as he is inching me closer to my orgasm. “uh right there M-Mase r-right t-there” I moan as I come undone all over his dick, with that I feel Mason’s dick twitch inside me as he moans my name into my neck.

I flop off him as we both catch our breathe “see injured and I am still the best sex you ever had” which he winks at me. “Who said that you was the best sex I have ever had?” I tease as we both know he was the best guy I have slept with, “I think from the way you just screamed my name as you cum all over my dick had something to do with it”. I quickly get up and get cleaned up and bring Mason in some tissue as I know he is going to struggle to get out of bed. I go to get dressed as Mason stops me “what are you doing?” I look at him confused “I am getting dressed what does it look like I am doing?”

Mason shakes his head “stay with me tonight”

“Isn’t that breaking one of our rules ‘no sleepovers’ remember you were there when we set them”

“Yes and now I am saying lets break this one just for tonight. Please it will be nice not to be on my own. You know in case I need the toilet or something” I know there is more to that but I am not going to argue.

“Okay just this once” I reply as I throw back on the tshift I was wearing earlier and climb back into bed with him. Mason grins like the Cheshire cat as he pulls his arm out so I can lay on his chest. The small sound of his heart beating sends me to sleep.

A wake up as I see the sun drifting in through the blinds, I see Mason hobbling out the bathroom “Hey you are not supposed to be walking without support” I scold him.

“Well if I waited for sleeping beauty to wake up I would of exploded I have a bladder of a child” he giggles as he hobbles back to the bed and throws himself next to me. “Whats your plans for today?”  he asks

“Not much I am helping one of the girls I work with move this afternoon, so probably have to leave soon” Mason pouts at that statement, “what about you Mount?”

Mason looks down like he doesn’t want to tell me the next part “Rebecca is coming down to spend time with me today”

I look at him confused as I bring his chin up to me so our eyes meet “whos Rebecca?”

Mason looks back down again as he didn’t wants to meet my gaze “she is a girl I have been seeing?” I jump out of bed at this comment.

“What the fuck are you talking about Mason? We just had sex and now you wanna tell me you are seeing someone. What the fuck Mason!!!” I am now screaming and throwing my hands around. I am starting to get dressed as I am shouting.

“We said no strings attached Y/N”

“I know that Mason! I don’t mean it like that, I mean that you have cheated on that poor girl with me. You have made me the other women that’s disgusting Mason! You know I have been cheated on why would you do that to me!” Mason gestures for me to sit at the end of the bed so I do, hoping he will let me calm down.

“We are not exclusive, we have only been on a couple of dates. We haven’t even slept together yet. I know its wrong Y/N you just do these things to me, you make me feel so much better and I know I do the same for you. I am sorry we can stop now if it will make you feel better.” I give him a look so he knows I am not impressed but I know nothing is going to change what happened so no point dwelling on it, so I nod in agreement.

“No more sex but still friends yeah” I lean to him and put out my pinkie finger. He wraps his pinkie around and places a kiss to it. “the best of friends” he replies.

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A year has passed since that morning and Mason and I have kept our word and haven’t slept together. We are still close and talk near enough everyday but we are just keeping it to friendly flirting and not taking it any further than that. I miss that closeness though, I feel like I haven’t been able to feel that closeness with anyone else. Even with my partner James its different, we have been dating for nearly a year, I met him shortly after Mason and I’s ‘no more sex’ pact, Mason is still dating that Rebecca, it seems to be going well. I am happy with James, he is successful and passionate and loving and everything I should want in a man, but I don’t know I feel like something is missing. Maybe that’s just me being silly, always looking for a ‘but’ in a relationship. Maybe this will be my happy ever after, after all.

“Pleaseeeeee come out tonight y/n/n! It won’t be the same without you” Paige begs on the phone.

“I don’t know Paige. It’s a very A list party I am not sure I would fit in babes”

“Oh come on Y/n you said that James is working so what else are you going to be doing on New Years Eve. I hate the thought of you sitting at home on your own pleaseeee. You know us and Mason is going to be there.” The thought of Mason there does heal the anxiety of going a little bit.

“Okay Paige I agree I will think about it okay”

“That’s all I am asking babes. Love ya”.

I am still not sure if I want to go or not, I am constantly fighting with my head. Paige is hosting a New Years party at Ben Chilwell’s but my anxiety is going through the roof of the thought of going to the party with all these famous people and I am just little old me. I just got home from work when I get a text message:

M: Please tell me you are going to Chilly’s NYE Party! Paige said you haven’t got back to her yet. Please I need to see drunk y/n, I haven’t seen her in a long time. She is a laugh, give the people want they want!!! Drunk y/n drunk y/n! xx

I giggle at his message and quickly hit reply.

Y/N: I don’t know, my anxiety isn’t great Mase there is going to be a lot of people there and I will literally know Chilly, Paige and you. But at the same time work has been mad recently so would be nice to let my hair down. Aww I don’t know Mase xxx

M: Pleaseeeee do it for me xx

Y/N: Okay you have persuaded me. You are my weakness Mount. I will see you there xx

It takes me days to decide what to wear for New Years Eye, I don’t want to be too dressed up as its only a house party but I don’t want to show up not making an effort. Its got to NYE, I finished work early so I got time to get ready but I still have no idea what to wear. I have finished my hair and makeup but just no outfit.

M: What time are you getting there for? I am staying the night so I can come and get you on the way if you want? X

Y/N: Thanks that would be great. I will be ready for whatever time you want me ready for xx

M: Ready for 7? X

Y/N: Perfect! Well it would be if I knew what to wear x

M: You look amazing in anything! Wear that white thing with the trousers and the fluffy bits I like that one x

Y/N: Thank you but I have put some weight on since I last worn that so I don’t know x

M: Well try it on and see I bet you will still look amazing ;) x

I quickly find the outfit he is talking about and snap a photo of me in it. I really don’t know about it but I send it to Mason and see what he says.

M: See I knew I was right. I am leaving mine now so see you soon xx

Mason messages me when he is outside, and I make a way to his car. He is wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a nice top. “See I knew I was right you look lovely” I can feel myself blush “thank you Mase you look really nice too. I just don’t know if it’s a little tight around the stomach” I say trying to grab the material away from the stomach feeling insecure. I watch Mason’s eyes flicker up and down over me “you look amazing! Now stop it we going to have a great night!” I nod knowing he was right, tonight is going to be the best.

The rest of the night is amazing, Mason barely leaves my side as we speak to others at the party. I know he can sense my anxiety I even feel his hand rub my waist when he can sense I am uncomfortable, he always knows how to make me feel safe. I am on drink ‘I cannot even remember’ now and I can feel myself start to get a little tipsy. Mason looks over me with his hand wrapped around my side as he looks down at me “so where’s James tonight?” for a second I want to say ‘who is he talking about?’ due to the alcohol consumed. “He is working tonight. What about you? I am sure Rebecca would of jumped at the chance to be at a NYE party with you? I like Rebecca she is sweet”.

I can feel how tipsy I am with how unstable I have become on my feet “she is a nice girl. She is with her family tonight though. She thinks a lot of you though y/n, she really likes you too”.

I pull away from Mason’s grip “yeah she wouldn’t like me though Mason if she knew we slept together when you first got together”. I watch Mason’s face drop as I know he feels as guilty about it as I do. “Come on lets not dwell on that, lets just enjoy the night” which with that he grabs his arm around my waist.

The rest of night I can feel my anxiety start to fade with the amount of alcohol consumed. I loose Mason for a little while but with the liquid courage I have brought myself to chat to other people. I am dancing with a couple of girls that I have got chatting too when I can feel someone behind me and wrapped their arms around me, at first I thought it was Mason so I settle into it a little but then I felt their hands roll down the outside of my thighs and pushes their body into mine. I hear them whisper into my ear “I love the little show you put on for me. Shake it for me baby”. I quickly tense up and I turn around realising I have no idea who this guy is. “Who are you? What are you talking about?” I suddenly feel uneasy and try and back away from the guy. “Come on don’t be a tease baby. I know you were shaking it for me”. I watch how his eye darken and he grabs my waist. I can feel his fingers digging into me whilst his other hand wraps around my wrist. I suddenly begin to panic. “please let me go” I beg, but he doesn’t reply he just tightens his grip.

Suddenly I feel another’s presence “If I were you were mate I would let her go”. I feel the grip loosen slightly. I know that voice, Mason!  I see the guys face turn from lust to anger “and who are you mate? She wants it! She has been dancing in front of me all night telling me she wants it. Look at her of course she wants it!” I can feel my heart drop do I really look like a slut? I was just trying to have a good time. I watch the rage in Mason’s eye’s “I will say it again I suggest you let her go before we got a problem.” The guy lets me go and squares up to Mason “yeah is it now. I suggest we take this outside”. I know Mason isn’t a fighter and I really don’t want him to get injured over me. I take Mason’s hand “come on just leave it Mase its not worth it.” I plead for Mason to drop it, not wanting to make more of a scene about it. ”Stay out of this you little slut! If the famous Mason Mount thinks he can try it with me, then lets go!” Mason doesn’t reply all I see is a swing and Mason’s hand colliding with the guys cheek which knocks the guy onto the floor. Chilly and a couple more people seeing the commotion quickly dragged the guy out whilst Mason looks at me and then quickly storms into the kitchen. Feeling embarrassed with all eyes on me I quickly run to the bathroom.

I can feel my heart beating in my chest, I cannot believe Mason just hit that guy. I can feel my eyes starting to water. Mason is always there to save me, but he didn’t need to do that. I compose myself after a couple of minutes and make my way back to the party. I bump into Paige “are you okay babes? I don’t know who that guy thinks he is? I don’t even know who he is I think he is a plus one”. I wrap my arms around Paige and settle into the hug “I am okay Paige, honestly. Well thanks to Mason I am. I am probably going to make a move though that guy has ruined my vibe”. Paige pulls away from the hug “no please y/n/n don’t leave!” I hesitate “I need to go find Mason and check he is okay”. Paige nods “I think he is in the kitchen”. I thank her and made my way to the kitchen.  

I turn the corner and I can see Mason having a conversation with a couple of the boys “come on man! There was no need to punch him” I hear one of them say, I hear Mason grunt “he was groping her! Then you should of seen the way he spoke about her it was fucking disgusting I didn’t mean to hit him I just flipped”. I hear one of the cough and they all look up to me which the other men remove themselves from the kitchen.

“How you doing?” he asks me, I melt at his compassionate.

“You are asking me how I am doing? You are the one who punched someone. Hows your hand?” He lifted his hand up so I could inspect his knuckle. He winces as I touch the wound. I grab the bag of ice that is lied on the side and put it back onto the knuckle, which Mason hisses and swears. “I’m sorry”.

Mason looks at me and grabs the side of my face “what are you sorry for? He was the asshole and it was my choice to punch him. None of this is your fault”. Mason uses his un-injured hand to place a stand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t listen to a word he said. You look incredible and you deserve to dance and have a good time without being harassed.” He shoots me a reassuring smile. Which I return.

“Thanks Mase for saving the day! I am probably going to make a move now tho. I just want to forget tonight ever happened”. I see the sadness in Mason’s eye.

“What?! You cannot leave now. Its New Years in an hour come on just see the New Year in then I will let you go. Please I punched a guy for you, the least you can do is stay for me”. He jokes the last part but still it has persuaded me.

“Okay Okay you really are my weakness Mount. I will stay for you, but just until midnight” Mason gives me a toothy smile in return. “Just until midnight” he repeats back.  

The rest of the evening is a laugh, I continue drinking  and I am now totally smashed, which looking at Mason he is the same. We are dancing away together, chatting away with everyone. It gets to the New Years countdown and we are all cramped into the living room counting down together. As the numbers are getting smaller, I am not sure what to do. 12….11..Should I kiss Mason? 10…9.. Mason looks down at me, I am wondering if he is thinking the same? 8….7 Mason wraps an arm around my side and holds me closer. 6…5.. He closes the gap between us I look between his lips and his eyes. 4…3…2…1… before I know it our lips are connected. I wrap my arms around his neck to pull him closer as we continue to kiss. He pulls away and I see him bite his lips “happy new year beautiful” I lean in again which Mason returns the kiss as we pull away I talk “happy new year Mase”. I can feel butterflies in my stomach, right now in this moment, everything feels right.

Another hour passes and I can start to feel the alcohol wearing off, I say my goodbyes to Paige and Ben and I continue to walk round trying to find Mason. I haven’t seen him for the last 20 minutes which was weird as we have been attached at the hip during this party. I really don’t want to leave without staying goodbye. I look everywhere I can think of but he is nowhere to be found where can he be? I thought. My uber messages to say they are outside and I know I need to go, I check one more place before going Ben’s spare room. I knock lightly on the door and slowly open the door. I see Mason sat on the bed smiling at me “there you are!” I grin “I have been looking for you”.

Mason gets up and comes to meet me at the door, “I came to say goodbye, my uber is outside”. I explain. Mason doesn’t say a word and continue to look at me. We continue to stand there in silence, “okay well thank you for tonight. Its been the best night, and you know thank you for saving me and all that. So I guess I will see you soon”. Mason still doesn’t say anything and I can feel the air between us is weird, its never like this between us I wondered what’s happened. Mason then closes the gap between us, he brings my chin up so I am looking into his eyes. There is a sparkle in his eyes, Passion! He slowly lowers himself down and I can feel our lips brushing against eachother, it’s a slow loving kiss. It’s a kiss we have never had before. Mason hands lower and I can feel them brushing against my bum, he gives it a little squeeze before he continues the kiss. This time the kiss is needy as I can feel his tongue dominating my mouth. We both pull away fighting for breathe “I really gotta go my ubers waiting” Mason hums into my mouth as he continues the kiss “then go then” he kisses me, another deep kiss “or I can refund you the money you paid for the uber and you can stay here”. Mason and I continuing to kiss and right now in this moment all I can think about is the growing bulge between us. I can feel myself fighting with my head.

Mason rips his shirt over his head and exposes his toned chest, my lips water at the sight of it. We haven’t been this intimate in a year. I run my fingers down his chest as we continue the kiss, I can feel him moaning into my mouth. Mason turns me round and I can feel him grinding into my bum, which his dick is now rock hard. He starts to kiss down my neck and I know he is leaving me a hickey, I can feel the zipper of my jumpsuit and before I know it I am left in my underwear. Mason turns me around and looks me up and down “fuck you are so beautiful” he says making me blush and my instinct is to suddenly try and cover up. He grabs my arms away “come on its me. No need to hide away”. Our lips are connected again, I help Mason remove his trousers so we are both left in our underwear. Our hands are exploring eachother’s bodies, I can feel myself moaning as he brushes over the spot I need him most. That’s when reality hits me I quickly pull away “Mase what are we doing? We cannot do this?” Mason pulls away and takes a deep breath “I don’t know y/n you just do something to me. I just can’t handle myself around you. If you don’t want to do anything then its fine you can do home.” We both stand there, staring at eachother. My heart bonding through my chest whilst my head is fighting with my heart.

I wrap my arms around his neck “Mase I don’t know! I got James and you got Rebecca. We cannot do this to them. What if they find out?” Mason is continuing to tickle up and down my back “I will repeat y/n if you don’t want to do anything we don’t have too. But why are you worrying about them finding out? Its only us here”. I know he was right, I jump onto Mason which he catches me and wraps my legs around his waist. We both look into eachothers eyes and I can feel my heart melt, “I’m guessing that means you have opted in for the best sex of your life”. I roll my eyes as Mason walks me over to the bed and throws me down.

He quickly joins me and climbs inbetween my legs, I know what I am doing is wrong. I know I shouldn’t be doing this to James, but its Mason, its like he has a spell over me. All thoughts of James disappear as Mason kisses down my body, he unclips my bra and I can feel him flip my tipple through his tongue and slowly grazes them with his teeth “m-mase” I whimper. Mason continues to kiss down my body until he is finally at my core. He lifts my hips up so he can remove my thong then leaves a trial of kisses up my thighs, I try and contain my moans as I know we have to keep quiet but its so hard when I can feel his hot breathe on my pussy. He gives me one long swipe with his tongue and I scream out his name. He giggles and looks up at me, I give him pleading eyes begging him to go back to where he was “as much I love hearing you scream my name y/n we need to be quiet so we don’t get caught okay”. I nod in agreement hoping he will quickly return to where he was. Mason focuses on my clit and I can feel myself coming undone underneath him, Mason quickly inserts 2 fingers inside me as his tongue pays attention to my clit. I grab the pillow next to me and place it over my mouth to give me something to bite down on to stop me from screaming, I am a mess from Mason’s touch “fuck I have missed your fingers and mouth. Its so fucking good!” I am able to mutter which I can feel Mason smile into it. I am so close “go on baby let yourself go I know you wanna”. I relax my body and I can feel myself hitting my high, I try my hardest to be quiet but his name escapes my lips a little too loud.

Mason hovers back over me “I am sorry I didn’t mean to be so loud” I cover my face a little now feeling slightly embarrassed. Mason shakes his head “Baby girl you screaming my name is my weakness”. I smile into Mason as connect again, I can taste my cum in his mouth. I help Mason remove his boxers and his dick suddenly springs free I reach inbetween us and start to slowly pump him. I can feel him moaning into my neck from my touch which is giving the confidence to keep going. I connect my mouth to his neck and I start sucking away giving him a matching hickey to the one he gave me earlier “U-uh y-n d-don’t stop” he moans into my neck. I quickly flip us over so I am now in control, I can see the lust in Mason’s eyes as he watches me kiss down his toned body. I reach his cock and play around with it in my palm, I give the top small kisses and licks and then put it into the back of my throat as I choke on it, I know Mason loves it when I choke on it. I can hear Mason mutter words of recognition which is urging me to go harder and deeper. Mason reaches down and starts playing with my hair as he pushes my head down onto his cock when I hear a loud moan escape his lips. He quickly brings me back up so we are eye to eye again. “I need you” he begs.

Understanding exactly how Mason feels I climb back into my seated position and line myself up with him. Mason quickly stops me, looking at him confused “whats wrong?” I ask. Mason quickly shakes his head so I know its nothing that I am doing wrong. “Last time we slept together, me ankle was all messed up. So this time I wanna be on top, I need to absolutely ruin you y/n”. With that Mason flips us over so he his hoovering over me, placing all his weight on his arms that are either side of my head. Mason lines himself up with me and we both watch eachother as it goes in, I can feel myself stretching due to his size. Mason gives me a couple of seconds to adjust and then starts his rhythm. He is starting to speed up and I know he has got the pace that he wants, he starts hitting the spot and I can feel myself seeing stars “fuck your cock is so good”  I manage to get out. “Believe me its nothing compared to this pussy, fuck yeah just like that”. Masons thrust have become sloppy and I know he is close. “You got another one in there for me baby” I nod my head as I cannot manage any words, Mason is destroying me. He pins my hips down and gives another couple of hard thrusts and with that I unravel onto his cock. This helps Mason hit his high as a couple of seconds later he quickly pulls out “fuck yeah shit so f-f-ucking good!”  he moans as he cums all over my stomach and flops next to me on the bed. “Have I told you before how incredible our sex is?” Mason asks, I giggle in response “Yes, you have actually a couple of times”.

It’s the best night sleep I have had in ages, I roll over and Mason has his back to me. I allow myself to trace his the outline of his muscles with my fingers as he groans in appreciation. He rolls over to meet my eyes. “I gotta get going soon” Mason says bringing me out of my daydream. I look over at the clock and see its 11am “Yeah I need to as well. I need to sneak out before anyone sees me here”. Mason laughs knowing I am right. I get myself out of bed and force my feet into the ensuite, I gasp as I see the purple bruise that is glistening on my neck “Mason what the fuck! How am I going to go home with that?” Mason is quickly behind me, and laughs. I turn around and give Mason a stern look “Its not funny Mason how am I going to explain this?” Mason shrugs and turns his neck so I can see the matching hickey on his too “see you got too carried away as well y/n. You are not the only one who has explaining to do”.

I groan and storm back into the bedroom and flop onto the bed “we are horrible people Mason, I cannot believe we did that. I cheated on James. I hate myself”.  I can feel the tears pricking in my eyes, Mason crouches in front of me so he is in between my legs, he quickly uses his thumb to wipe away the tears “come on don’t cry. We both had a lot to drink and got carried away. No one needs to know okay it can be our little secret. I hated doing that behind Rebecca’s back but last night was amazing I am not going to regret that”. Mason always knows what to say to make me feel better. He brings me to stand so we are facing eachother “No more sex” we both say together. My head is all over the place, I don’t know why I let myself do this to James but Mason has something over me I cannot explain. I just wish it wasn’t this complicated.

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Another 6 months has passed and Mason and I kept our word ‘no more sex’, its been like before NYE. No awkwardness has occurred and we have pretended nothing ever happened, we have never spoke about it since, we still talk everyday he is still my best friend though. Just to me this time feels different. James and I have been amazing, he is so kind and caring and I still beat myself up for what happened but I cannot change the past, I just need to focus on the future so I have decided to put my all into the relationship. I know James loves me as much as I love him, I never knew how I got so lucky with him. We had the best day when he asked me to marry him, I was so shocked as it was totally unexpected but of course I said yes, I would be stupid not too.  Paige is having some girls over tonight and invited me over too, Lauren, Declan’s girlfriend was there and few other WAGs.

I sat with Lauren chatting away about life and I was telling them all about the engagement and them all gauging at the ring. That’s when I heard the whole group conversation turn about Mason. “I cannot believe Mason and Rebecca broke up like what the fuck” Paige says.

“I would snatch him up in a moment” one of the single girls of the group who I know as Monica contributes. I look at everyone confused, they broke up? Why didn’t he tell me?

“What they broke up?! Why what happened?” I turn to Lauren thinking out of all the girls she would know the answers.

Lauren shrugs “I don’t really know much. Apparently Mason became really distant and Rebecca thought there might be another girl. Mason always denied it but I agree he really didn’t seem that invested in the relationship recently, he seemed pre-occupied.”

“So what who ended it?” another girl asks but I am sitting at the edge of my seat waiting for Lauren to reply.

“Mason ended it, apparently he couldn’t deal with her constantly accusing him of there being someone else. I agree with Rebecca though Mason has seemed different its only been recent I would say since like New Year. He has totally distant himself from the relationship, maybe its for the best they both weren’t happy”. I can feel my heart beating in my chest.

“I’m surprised Mason didn’t tell you. Usually he tells you everything” Lauren continued turning to me.

“Yeah I guess he has decided to keep girl troubles out of our conversation this time”. Which I gave a little laugh which the whole giggle in reply. The conversation changes topic and everyone is engaged in conversation, I go to make myself another drink when I feel a presence behind me, I saw Lauren standing there. “What happened New Year?” she asks, I can feel my heart pounding, I like Lauren and I don’t wanna lie but I am not sure what Mason told her or not?

“I-I um-um not sure what you are talking about Lau” I try and act dump

“You know Declan and I stayed at Chilly’s that night too. When the party finished we walked past the room where Mason was staying and we could hear muffle sounds, it sounded like he was sleeping with someone. Then first thing in the morning I was downstairs when you tried to sneak out. So what happened? I am not dumb you know. I won’t judge whatever it is. We tried to ask Mason about it but he wouldn’t give us a straight answer”.

I look at Lauren in defeat I know she has found out our secret. “Okay okay I slept with Mason on New Years Eve.” I look down trying to not meet her eye, admitting it now makes it feel real.

“WHAT!!”  I quickly grab Lauren and move her to the other side of the kitchen away from where the other girls are sitting. “Shhh will you keep your voice down no one else can know please”. I plead with her.

“Why didn’t you just tell me. What happened? How did you two randomly just get into bed together. Tell me everything”. Lauren picks up the glass of wine next to her and starts taking a couple of sips, knowing that she wants the gossip.

“Okay me and Mason had been a kind of friends with benefits since we first met.”

“Nooooo shut up!!!” she squeals

“let me continue…” she makes the action of zipping up her mouth and lets me continue.

“So well remember when he hurt his ankle..” she nods “well that’s when everything changed. I went round there to comfort him and well one thing let to another and we ended up in bed. I actually stayed the night which never happened. The next morning he told me he was starting to see Rebecca so we called it quits. Shortly after I met James and everything was fine, me and Mason were just friends and no lines where blurred”.

Lauren took another sip of her drink “so what happened New Years then?”

“Well obviously we both had a lot to drink, and then it kicked off with that guy started to make advances to me and he called me a slag and all that then Mason punched him and I don’t know maybe it was the heroic action or the amount of alcohol consumed I generally don’t know. I went to say goodbye and one thing let to another and we ended up in bed together. We woke up both feeling like shit so we agreed to not discuss it. Please I already feel awful about it, please don’t say anything to James.”

I am now starting to panic but Lauren is quick to assure me “babe my loyalties are with you not James. So whatever is said in this room stays in this room okay. So whats happened since because Mason has been all over the place have you guys continued to sleep together or what?”

“No nothing like that Lauren. We have agreed nothing will happened since that night and me and Mason are still close and talking everyday but nothing like that. Well I thought we were close but he didn’t tell me he broke up with Rebecca so god knows”.

“I have no idea what goes on in that guys mind. So whats Mason like in bed anyway? I would feel like his ego couldn’t match his performance if you know what I mean”. She is now giggling away like a little school girl.

I take another sip of my drink now feeling the after effects of the alcohol. “he is amazing Lau! Like obviously I would never tell him this because I wouldn’t want to boost his ego more but he is the best sex I have ever had. The way he makes me feel damn no one comes close”. Lauren smirks at me.

“So tell me again why you and Mason are nothing more then ‘just friends’?”

“I am engaged Lauren” she nods slowly but I can tell she knows there is lot more to that answer.

“Come on we should go back before the girls wonder where the hell we are?” I nod in agreement.

“I will be right in just need another drink”. I wait for Lauren to leave the room before I let out the deep breathe that I didn’t realise I was holding in. I cannot believe he broke up with Rebecca but why didn’t he tell me? Was it because of me? I need answers.

The next couple of hours I am completely distracted, all I can think about is Mason. I have drink after drink before I am completely tipsy. I say my goodbyes to everyone as my taxi notifies me they are outside. I wrap my arms around Lauren and thank her as it has been good to get it all out, “call me if you need anything”. She says and I know she means that. Before I knew it the taxi was pulling up outside Mason’s house, I hesitate for a minute. I don’t even know why I am here. Before I even walk up the steps I see Mason emerging from house, he looks confused until he recognises it was me. I go to say something but the taxi man interrupts “love you need to pay” I quickly look for my bag and then the realisation hits me “shit I left my bag at Paiges”. The taximan does not look amused but Mason just giggles “typical y/n. No worries I got this mate”. He turns to the taximan and chucks some cash at him and helps me inside.

“Soooo I-I heard you b-broke up with Rebeccaaaa” I slur before Mason even shuts the door, I am struggling to get my words out due to the alcohol consumption. Mason stops in his tracks.

“that’s why you are here”.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I say pouting

“It wasn’t anything to really tell. Rebecca kept accusing me of being absent and had it in her head I was cheating on her. It was constant arguing I couldn’t be in that toxic relationship, I have had them with my exs I couldn’t do that again.”

“Well she wasn’t wrong about the cheating” I say plopping myself on the sofa, Mason rolls his eyes and sits next to me.

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you. I have just had so much going on it kind of escaped my mind but I am sorry. You look lovely tonight you know”.

I can feel myself blushing. I hate that he has that impact on me. “So now tell me y/n why are you here and not at home with your fiancé?”

I take a deep breathe “I don’t know”

“Come on y/n of course you do”.

“I spoke to Lauren tonight. She said she heard us on NYE then saw me leaving the next morning she asked about us. It actually felt good to tell someone the truth. I am sorry I know we agreed to keep it a secret.”

Mason is tracing lines across my cheek and smiles “its fine y/n I am not angry. Before I broke up with Rebecca I came clean to Declan so chances are Lauren already knew she was probably just giving you the chance to tell her the truth. I had to talk to someone I had to get it out”.

“I love you Mason” I blurt out.

Mason drops his hand from my cheek, and shuffles back. “What do you mean you love me? You are engaged y/n”.

“Mason I have loved you from the first night we met. The way we connected, the way you made me feel. The only way we could ever be close enough was ‘friends with benefits’ so I accepted that’s all we are going to be. But now Mason I am not sure if that’s enough, I fucking love you Mason. I love the way you make me feel, the way you know me better then I know myself. Come on Mason you cannot tell me you don’t feel the same”. I don’t know where this courage as come from I am guessing its going something to do with the amount of drinks I have done.

“Y/N I will repeat it again it doesn’t matter how I feel you are engaged.”

“Lauren said the reason why you broke up with Rebecca was because you became distant like you were focussing on someone else. Are you seriously going to tell me that wasn’t me?”

“No y/n me breaking up with Rebecca had nothing to do with you! Not everything is about you. We had sex y/n that was all it was. No feelings, no strings attached remember that’s all we were. We used eachother to make eachother feel good at our time of need that’s what we were y/n. I am sorry if you caught feelings but this is what we were, nothing more.” Mason spat out. I wanted to be sick and I can feel tears starting to prick in my eyes. I hate myself how could I let myself confess my feelings for someone who doesn’t care. I start to sniffle to hold in the tears and make a beeline for the door.

“Y/n wait!” I hear Mason shout. I quickly turn around on my heals.

“No you are right Mason. That’s all we were, it was me being stupid. How could someone like you ever catch feelings for silly little m-m-me”. I stutter the last part and the tears are now completely falling down my face, I run out the house and never look back. I can feel my heart shattering into a thousand pieces, how can I have these kind of feelings for someone who I am not even engaged too? How can I feel this way about someone who doesn’t love me back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mason’s POV- 6 Months later

 After a couple of rings Declan picks up the phone “Mason I got your messages mate, I am not replying for a reason, please you cannot do this”.

“Please Dec understand she needs to know how I feel. She needs to know how I feel before she marries the wrong person”.

“Mase don’t you think you have put that poor girl through enough. Just let her be”.

“I can’t Dec. I have tried to put her out of my head. I can’t please Dec. I love her”.

“Then if you loved her Mase you wouldn’t hurt her, on her wedding day on all days”.

I know deep down Declan was right, I just cannot let you go. I cannot let you make the worst decision of your life. Ever since that night I have beat myself up with how I acted, I just never thought you ever felt that way about me. Please, look at you, you are the most perfect women and I never thought you would get with a guy like me. I tried to ring and text you everyday since that day but you ended up blocking my number and I even showed up at your flat which you refused to open the door eventhough I knew you were home. I would give anything to go back in time and admit my feelings too, I should of never let you go. And now its probably too late.

Chilly was invited to the wedding as Paige was the Maid of Honour, I asked Chilly to give me the address of the wedding. He fought very hard to not give it to me, I am not sure if he knew what happened between us but he must know me asking for the address of the wedding will not end good. Eventually I got it out of him. I couldn’t sleep all night I was so worried about what I was going to say to you tomorrow, I have to give myself a chance, a chance for love.

I walk through the venue and its absolutely breathtaking, I look at all the little details and I know that is totally your input. I know you would have everything looking perfect. I pump into one of the waiters “oh sorry” I quickly apologise. He looks completely shocked.

“Oh my god! You are Mason Mount! Can I get a picture?” I agree and he quickly snaps a selfie and thanks me.

“What room is the bride in?” I ask

“Down the hall and to the right is the bride’s suite”.

I thank him and quickly hurry down the hall. I can feel my palm’s sweating I don’t want to burst into the room with a load of people in there. I wait outside hesitating if whether I should do this when Paige comes out. She scowls at me, she definitely knows what has happened. “what are you doing here Mason? If its what I think don’t even think about it. I will tackle you to the floor now”. She laughs but I know she is totally serious.

“Please Paige, 5 mins that’s all I am asking. Please.” I see Paige hesitate but looks around down the hallway.

“ 5 mins okay. She is on her own but we all coming back in 15 minutes to get photos done and I want you gone by then”. I nod grateful for her.

“Thank you Paige” I hug her and then make my way to the door.

I hesitate again but I know I am wasting precious time, I quietly knock as I hear the ‘come in’ from the other side. You quickly spin around as our eyes meet. You looks absolutely incredible, I have never seen someone so beautiful. I can feel my mouth go completely dry.

“Mason? What are you doing here? I thought me blocking you was enough of an understanding for you.”

I am stood still in my tracks, I still cannot get over how mesmerising you look. “I-I’m sorry you look unreal. Wow absolutely incredible”.

I took a step forwards in which you take a step straight back to remain the distance between us. “Thank you but I will repeat Mason what are you doing here?”

“I-I’m an idiot” is the only thing I can get out. I have never been this nervous my mouth is totally dry.

“Yeah no shit” you spit back. I kind of deserved that.

“5 mins y/n please” I grab your hands in mine and this time you don’t pull away. “I love you y/n”

You let go of my hands and shove me away I can see the tears starting to appear in your eyes as you try to look up to prevent them from falling down. “No Mason. No fucking way you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to par me off when I confess my feelings then want to wait until my fucking wedding day to confess yours fuck you Mount!” You are now starting to get heated.

“I tried y/n. You blocked me remember and refused to open the door. This was my only chance”

“D-Don’t you think you hurt me enough. Now you g-gotta come and ruin my wedding day too why Mason”.

I hate that I am making you cry, especially when you look that beautiful. I slowly close the space between us trying to not make you flinch, I slowly wipe away the stray tears that have fallen down. “I needed you to know how I feel before I lost you forever.” You start to sniffle and I can hear you trying to control your breathing, you do not incept so I continue. “Y/N I have always loved you. From that first moment I met you, I was taken back by how someone could be that beautiful on the outside was so beautiful on the inside. Our sex is amazing, I have never connected with anyone on that level before. But its not just the sex y/n, I love how you listen and understand me. You are always there when I needed you. You know me better then anyone else. I was stupid y/n and I shouldn’t of said what I did. I didn’t mean it none of it was true. The reason why I left Rebecca was because of you, I guess I started distancing myself from her because every time I looked at her I started comparing her to you and I saw everything that she wasn’t. Fuck I love you y/n and I am a stupid stupid man for not confessing my feelings to you that night. I was scared I have never felt for someone the way I feel for you and it scared the absolute fuck out of me. Please y/n you cannot tell me those feelings have just gone away”.

I can hear your breathing now as your struggling to breathe, I rub your hand trying to get you to calm down. “Please y/n even if you don’t want this, then please can we still be friends. I cannot live my life knowing that you are not apart of it. These past 6 months have broken me, you can ask anyone”.

“M-Mase I cannot do this now. Why did you wait until now to tell me all of t-t-this. I-I g-get m-married i-inn 30 m-minutes.” You are struggling with your words and all I want is to wrap you up in my arm and take away the pain. I know there is nothing I can say or do, its too late you have made your decision and you are marrying him. I can feel the tears starting to fall down my face as I watch the love of my life marry another guy.

“I-I’m sorry for everything y/n. If I could rewind time I would do this so much better I promise. If your change your mind I will be at the docks in an hour waiting.”  I place a small loving kiss to your lips, I know I shouldn’t but I needed to feel the softness of your lips on mine one last time. I can feel both our tears running down our faces onto our lips as we pull away. With that I turn around and walk straight out the venue, knowing deep down that I have lost you forever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I look at the time, and I see its 3pm. The wedding was taking place an hour ago. I look around the docks but I cannot see you. I look down and flip my hoodie over my head as I let the tears fall down. A small part of me thought you would change your mind, but here we are I am wrong again. I walk a couple of steps and I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I turn around to see you standing there, you still have your bridal hair and make up on but you have got changed into a tracksuit. Looking over the tracksuit I actually realise that’s mine that I have been looking for, for ages, but that’s a question for another time. I am stunned that you are stood in front of me. You were first to speak “you were right Mase. I couldn’t walk down the aisle knowing the love of my life is here. I couldn’t do that to me or James. Sorry I am late I had to speak to James and then my dad. Both understood actually it was a lot easier then I thought, my dad just upset about the money paid for the wedding.”

I quickly respond “I will pay your dad back every penny he spent on the wedding. It will be a clear slate I promise”. It’s the least I can do I suppose, I am the reason the wedding was ruined.

“Thank you but I am not here for your money mase. I want you. I fucking love you” you jump closing the gap between us and our lips connect. For the first time this kiss feels right, like everything is happening how its supposed to. As we pull away I gather my thoughts, you still unreal even in my tracksuit. That when the sun reflects on the necklace you were wearing, it was a small sliver heart with your birthstone in it, looking at it I remember what it is.

“You were going to get married in the necklace I got you”. I run the necklace through my fingers as I caress your neck. “What did James think about the necklace it literally has the number 7 on the back of it?”.

You giggle at me “please can we not speak about my ex-fiancé who I literally just left at the alter. But I told him the number 7 was my lucky number. Well I guess it still is”. You wink at me and pull me in for another kiss. Our tongues fighting for control, I finally give in and allow you the control. We quickly pulling away remembering where we are.

“Shall we get out of here.” You wink at me.

I grab your hand in mine as we begin our walk along the docks “yeah lets get out of her before you change your mind”. I joke. You look up at me and playfully punch my arm. You link your arm into mine. We stop walking and you look up into my eyes “here’s to forever”.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Can I request Matt and Frank with a neurodivergent reader who rocks to self-soothe when they’re overstimulated/anxious

Hello darling! Absolutely you can. I’m sorry it took me so long to respond, it’s been a WEEK. Wayyyy too many thoughts below the cut.

Let me just say, I think both Matt and Frank would be fantastic partners to someone who is neurodivergent. They both understand the constant frustration and sense of injustice and all that.

Matt

It would take a few weeks for Matt to even realize what you were doing, I think. He can hear the movement, but it wouldn’t really seem off to him, given how much time he spends with Foggy–who never STOPS moving.

Because he doesn’t have much experience with people who are neurotypical and not stressed beyond belief, he’s sort of used to people fidgeting and doing what they can to calm themselves.

I don’t think he would bring it up without someone else prompting. Maybe Foggy or Karen says something offhandedly, catching you by surprise. You hadn’t even noticed you were doing it at the time, swaying your weight to your heels and back to the balls of your feet, your body rocking with the movement.

“Don’t worry, sport! We’re coming.” Foggy laughed, shoving his arms into the sleeves of his coat as the four of you prepared to grab lunch.

You froze, suddenly regaining your self-awareness and immediately choking on a wave of embarrassment.

“Ready to go?” Matt’s voice startled you out of your stupor, making you jump

“Uh yes. Sorry.” The apology was instinctive, habitual. A symptom of perpetually feeling like your innocuous stims were troublesome for others.

“Why are you sorry?” Head tilting in the signature way it always did when he was concerned, Matt’s hand came to rest on your arm as he scanned you for evidence of harm.

“Nothing. We should catch up.” You murmured, hurrying out of Matt’s office to follow his business partners out of the building.

He’d let you deflect, but he’d set the thought in a special corner of his mind, privately vowing to bring it up at a later time.

After Foggy and Karen had escaped the pile of paperwork in the conference room, hesitantly allowing you and Matt to sort through it without them, he’d leap on the opportunity.

“Out with it,” The command is tender but stern, very classic Matt.

“Out with what?” Playing dumb worked sometimes, easier than an outright lie in front of a breathing polygraph machine.

“You’ve been biting your tongue since before lunch.” Apparently your go-to strategy wasn’t going to work this time. “What happened? Did I say something?”

The fear simmering below his concern caught your attention immediately. You had to answer now. “No nothing like that, Matty. I just..got in my head.”

“About what?” His wandering gaze is so earnest, you cave immediately. You tell him everything. The way you always felt different from those around you. The confusion and constant frustration when you inevitably misunderstood people. The pile of issues you had with various sounds and textures. The need to rock back and forth in place when you were nervous or overwhelmed, and the shame that forced you to stop when someone laughed or criticized you.

As always, Matt listens. Asks a question here or there, to help himself understand, but he seems to get it. There’s no judgement in his eyes, only total acceptance and a blaze of protective fury.

Once he knows about the stim, he would fiercely defend you in public. Scold people for staring and encourage you to do whatever you needed to do to feel comfortable.

Frank on the other hand would notice it VERY quickly.

This man is capital O Observant so he spots the rocking before you’re even together.

He has weird fidgety things he does too so he’s not judging whatsoever. He’s not interested in dissecting the root cause if it’s not hurting you or anyone else. So he jots it down in his mental notes about you and moves on past.

I think he’d also pick up on the soothing nature of it, notice that you seem calmer when you allow yourself to stim. So when he catches you in a bad mood or in a stressful moment, he’d pull you flush against his chest, one hand cradling your back while the other cups your head, and he’d rock the two of you together. (If you need to rock alone, he’d absolutely let you. But this personally would be nice for me so I’m including it lol)

If anyone ever commented on it, they’d find themselves on the other side of a MURDEROUS stare, urging them to quickly apologize and move on with their day

[oneforthemunny]

you mentioned rockstar eddie watching her have their babies and still being obsessed ofc, and i’m wondering how janitor eddie would be, esp if she was feeling self conscious

so here's my thoughts on this, because i love janitor!eddie from the bottom of my heart, but... he's a little ball of anxiety and sometimes it makes the situation soooo much worse. like he gets in his own head, and stays in his own head, won't tell you what's going on just starts acting weird, so you think it's you and in reality, he's just in need of prozac lmao.

since oliver was adopted, there was no "down period" ya know? if anything, i think watching you be a mom to him and be sweet to him and kind and loving, it made eddie even fucking more insatiable than before in the most love sicken devoted way.

after you gave birth to olivia, it was different. through the pregnancy, he'd already been a little nervous with you. there's a full blurb about it, where he's nervous to touch you because he doesn't want to hurt you. bless him, there's not a lot out there at the time (early 90s) about having sex and being pregnant lol. so he's just scared. better to stay hands off than hurt you. which in the blurb, doesn't last because once you tell him you want to and it's ok, he's actually feral.

but after olivia, the doctor tells the usual, no sex for this six weeks or it can hurt you. eddie, ofc, asked a million questions about every single thing (turned a thirty minute visit into an hour and a half), but specifically about what could happen, how would you know if you're healed, what did they do to verify that everything was good, was there a test- like a million questions.

six weeks turns into eight, and it's really not too bad because you're both exhausted and literally collapse into each other. but around ten weeks, the routine is becoming more normal, olivia's sleeping through the night, you both feel like you can catch your breath, but eddie's still so distant with sex? like everything else is so good, but if you try to initiate, kiss him a little deeper, make yourself into the little spoon and back your ass up on him, he stills and shuts it down.

by eleven weeks, you're frustrated. by twelve, almost three months, you're hurt. wayne kept the kids for the night, wanted to give you two some alone time and wanted to spend time with his grandbabies, and you think it's perfect. you're about to go back to work, and it seems like a good time to "break the seal" so to say.

you have a dinner at home, he cooked, wined and dined you, is so so soooo fucking sweet and lovey. you're on the couch, watching a movie, but really making out like you used to. you can feel him, feel him getting hard, and when you try to make a move, he starts like panicking. apologizing, and trying to hide it.

"fuck, i-i'm sorry. i don't, just gimme a second, an-and i'll-"

"-so do you just think i'm disgusting now?" tears in your eyes, you're beyond hurt. you'd heard so many stories about men who saw their wives give birth and didn't want to have sex anymore, deemed them gross, but you never in a million years though eddie- your sweet, kind, perfect eddie would be one of them.

eddie is on the brink of an anxiety attack, because ???? why would you think that? you're the prettiest, most beautiful girl in the world to him, and he tells you so.

"then why... why are you not wanting to have sex?" you blubber around your tears. hormones still wild even after, emotional from the hurt too.

"i know you're hard. i can see it." you point to his crotch, his semi still prominent. "so it's me."

"no, no. what? no." eddie thinks he might throw up, head spinning so fast. "it-it's not you-"

"-yes it is! why else wouldn't you want to? it's because i had a baby, and-and you think-"

"-don't." eddie's throat is tight, swallowing his heart. "it's- i- i just- i don't want to hurt you."

"hurt me? you are hurting me. you're hurting my feelings because you won't even touch me."

eddie does nearly throw up, swallows bile and it's like his world is turned up side down. he was so fucking scared, petrified, of having sex with you after and accidentally ripping something. that maybe you weren't healed, that the doctor made a mistake, and he'd fuck you and cause you to like, internally bleed and die or something insane. or that he'd just hurt you, that it would hurt and he'd hear you in pain, and he'd never forgive himself.

you'd just given him everything he ever wanted, made the ultimate sacrifice out of love, and he would not- could not hurt you over that. if he did, he'd genuinely be unable to live with himself.

after he finally just tells you that, instead of being so fucking weird, you calm him down. tell him it doesn't hurt, that you'd let him know if it did.

"just... just use your fingers first. and if it hurts, we can stop and i'll go to the emergency room. i promise. you won't hurt me." you tell him, gently cupping his cheek.

and really, it didn't take much convincing after he finally spilled what had been eating at his mind, once you soothed him. i mean, he had also been in agony. every time you'd take off your top or bend over to pick up a toy, he'd have to run to the bathroom because he was so fucking hard.

it was never unattraction, it was genuinely just his own mind and anxieties and spiraling.

[mochinomnoms]

Hi, vacations are killing me rn (I am going on multiple walks to explore, and damn I am busy)

But I did have time to listen to vocaloid songs, and I got me a little idea~

It's very sweet too

Okay so there's this song that despite controversy (the controversy is actually silly dw about it) that's about mocking the trope of "tsunderes" so this girl has a crush on a classmate and calls them a "small fry"

I think yk where I am going

Hell yeaaaah the tweels get their own game turned on them because of all the teasing they do to their crush and have to risk that their crush is going to get tired one day and try to leave because excessive teasing is not that enjoyable

"Loser, loser.. despite all of my bullying, you still have a crush! ♡" (rough translation)

"Your reactions are just so cutee! I can't get enough ♡" - Something Floyd would say about his dear shrimpy

"Hm? Did you join my club to spend more time with me, Prefect? :)" - Maaybee something that Jade would say to his darling pearl

Their teasing can be really cruel sometimes, yet they still care? Maybe? It makes you feel overwhelmed and used because they keep stringing you along with all of their joking, pulling you close to only laugh at your flustered face but they are not clear with their emotions and it's frustrating!

One day, the two of them gang up on you cooing mockingly (perhaps) about how cute yet pathetic you are! You had enough you get up from your desk instead of curling yourself in embarrassment until the two leave you alone and get up to stay away from them

It's the first time you have done something that's out of the ordinary, and while normally they would enjoy this unexpected change, but it's different when you start crying while walking away from them, frustrated clearly!

"H-hey! Wait, don't leave me! I will apologize. I am sorry -" (rough translation again)

So they chase after you because they care deep down, but they are stupid

And I only thought about these two for the "small fry" thing, hehe

-Vaquita (I am alive)

hi vaquita! i missed you very nice to hear from you again!!!

i think i know what song you're talking about?? a miku one right? i'd have to look it up i remember hearing the discourse on it, but i don't really interact with discourse all that much so idk for sure

i think Floyd would get a kick our of a tsundere s/o most! just look at how popular FloRid is, i think part of that Riddle could potentially fit into the role of the tsundere (at least in the fics i've seen). But Floyd likes it so much because he thrives off the reactions and pushing your buttons. it's the fact that you try so hard to be composed and fail each time that he likes! Though, I can see him getting bored after a while if these are the same reactions you give, especially if he knows that you like him a lot. He gets frustrated that you won't just be upfront with your feelings, and if you can't do that why is he still playing around with you, putting in all the work when you won't do the same?

Jade I think finds it cute at first, but will get bored quickly since he sees through you so quickly. Why must you hold yourself back? Isn't it tiring, isn't it a chore? Wouldn't it be much better if you were honest with your feelings? With Jade, he's wanting to see just how deep your feelings go for him, and have you chase after him! Maybe if he changes up your interactions, you'll just have to force yourself to be more than a little tsundere, forced character development hehehe.

[zepskies]

I was so happy to read a sequel story for Long As I Can See The Light!!

Russell and you had been together for five and a half months, and each time he left you found yourself wanting more.  More of him and more time. It was frustrating to be with a man who had a job that would pull him out of your arms as quickly as he’d appeared and leave your bed cold once more. 

God YES. This is the same idea I've explored in my sequel fics to ESC. It's the idea of wanting more time with a man who by necessity of his job, has to pop in and out of your life. As endearing as Russell is, that would be such a difficult obstacle to overcome in a new relationship.

Those last few years of your marriage were frustrating and did little to boost your self-esteem. Especially when your husband made you think you were annoying him and made you feel stupid for wanting more.  With Russell there was no such thing. When the two of you started dating and Russell realized exactly what your husband had done to you, he'd spent every waking moment making you feel more beautiful than you ever had. He listened to you, understood you, and did more for you than your husband had done in all the years that you'd been married.

Ugh I'm so glad she's got a man in her life that actually loves her and considers her the way she deserves. And if you ever write more of these two I would love to see this exploration of how Russell helps her feel beautiful and appreciated again. 💕

You loved your boyfriend to bits, but you hated how stubborn he was sometimes.

*snorts* yeah, like a mule, I'd imagine. 😆 But there's something so endearing about Russ wanting and insisting on fixing things around the house for her. Though of course I sympathize with her side of things. She just wants a nice healthy piece of her man. The showerhead can wait! 😏

Maybe I should try a different approach. “Rus.” You say sweetly, putting both of your hands on his stomach. Russell’s familiar green eyes flick to your hands as you begin to move them up the wet t-shirt. “When you showed up today I thought we’d be doing something a little different with our time.”  Russell swallows. “Baby-” “And the longer you stay in here-” You breathe taking a step forward as you continue to move your hands up, tracing the hardened muscles beneath your palms. “The less time we have together.” You gently press a kiss to the space where his shirt meets the base of his neck and you can feel the bob of his throat as he swallows again. 

Oh how I cackled! 😝 She's playing dirty and I love it lmao! Girl get him!

He groans. “I really want to do this for you, but you’re making it kinda hard-“  “Really?” You mutter nipping along his jaw. “That’s what I’m making hard?”

💀💀 Get himmmmm!

“I could tell.” He smirks. “Maybe your shower head would last a little longer if you didn't wear it out." Russell sends you a salacious wink that makes you blush bright red.

LMFAO. Okay, Russ took me out with that one. The audacity. 🤣🤣

Side note: but I love the word "salacious," especially because it fits so well with most Jackles characters. lol

Omg yay he's moving in!! That's a big step and I love that for them.

Not when he’d taught you that each blemish or curve you once cursed was something that could make him lose his last shred of self control and in turn, make Russell lose himself in everything you were. 

Girl Yessss - I love the body positivity in this storyverse so damn much. Thank you for continuing this giving me more Russell goodness, I really enjoy how you write him! 💜

It's Not A Wet T-Shirt Contest

Pairing: Russell Shaw x f!reader, Reader POV

Prompt: “Is that supposed to be leaking?”

Requested by: @luci-in-trenchcoats

Summary:  When your boyfriend comes into town to surprise you one weekend, you thought that you’d spend it together, turns out he has other plans. Reader is a single mom and is the niece of Teddi and Velma. Reader is described as curvy. (Technically takes place in my Long As I Can See The Light Universe, but can be read as a stand-alone.)

Tropes: Established Relationship

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because I made it more spicy than I meant it to, References to Sex, Sexual innuendo, Little bit of self-deprecating thought (reader), Cursing, Kissing, Idiots who love each other lots. I think that's everything?

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Tracker Masterlist

A/N: Alright, y'all this is my first fic written for my prompt celebration requested by the wonderful @luci-in-trenchcoats 😊 ENJOY!

You took another long sip of coffee from your favorite hand-painted "World's Best Mom Mug" and tried to block out the symphony of the colorful curse words and banging coming from your upstairs master bathroom.

When your boyfriend showed up this morning out of the blue to surprise you, this was not what you expected to be doing. Well, his appearance was a surprise to you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that your Aunt Teddi and her wife Velma had gotten a heads up that Russell was coming. They'd shown up about an hour before Russell had to take your son and daughter for a movie and a sleepover at their house.

But the bigger surprise was your current dilemma.

You'd expected to be tangled up with Russell in bed for hours trying to convince him to never leave you again, not be waiting downstairs while he tried to install a new shower head in your master bathroom.

You only blamed yourself.

You'd let it slip that the water pressure wasn't quite right and something that you'd thought would take a plumber twenty minutes had turned into an all day affair for Russell. 

Instead of taking you to bed, Russell had dragged you out to his car and to the nearest hardware store where he let you pick out a new shower head and where he got supplies, all the while you told him that he didn't need to, and Russell only kissed away the frown on your lips leaving you wanting more.

You always wanted more.

Russell and you had been together for five and a half months, and each time he left you found yourself wanting more. 

More of him and more time.

It was frustrating to be with a man who had a job that would pull him out of your arms as quickly as he’d appeared and leave your bed cold once more. 

It had been cold before and you didn’t want to go back to that. Didn’t want to be reminded of the cold bed over the final years of your marriage when your husband’s favorite phrases echoed through your bedroom after you put your children to bed:

“I’m tired” and “Not tonight baby, I have to work.”

Those last few years of your marriage were frustrating and did little to boost your self-esteem. Especially when your husband made you think you were annoying him and made you feel stupid for wanting more. 

With Russell there was no such thing.

When the two of you started dating and Russell realized exactly what your husband had done to you, he'd spent every waking moment making you feel more beautiful than you ever had. He listened to you, understood you, and did more for you than your husband had done in all the years that you'd been married.

But each time he left, Russell always took a little bit of yourself with him. You didn't sleep well when he was gone doing God knows what, God knows where, only that when he finally called or showed up to tell you he was okay, you didn't let go of him for hours.

There's another loud bang followed by a string of curses that make you sigh into your mug.

For fucks sake, that stupid showerhead is getting more action than I am.

You loved your boyfriend to bits, but you hated how stubborn he was sometimes.

You straighten up from where you lounged against the countertop in your kitchen, taking one more sip of coffee, before you make the trek through your living room and up the stairs towards your bedroom. 

This wasn't the first time that Russell fixed something in your home. He liked it when you made him a list of things to do when he visited, things like cleaning the gutters, nailing down the front step that always caught underfoot, mowing the lawn, etc. Things that Russell wanted to do for you because he knew how busy you got at work and with your children.

It made you love him more, because you’d never met someone so selfless before. 

When you enter the bathroom, Russell is standing in your shower, just inside the large glass double doors, soaking wet, and holding a wrench.

His usual easy smile has slipped into a frustrated frown while he stares at the bright silver shower head hanging on the wall. 

“I see things are going well.” You snort out a laugh, admiring the scene before you. 

Russell’s dark hair drips forward in lazy strands against his cheeks, his t-shirt clings to his chest like a second skin, catching in the dips and curves of your boyfriend’s muscular torso, and his usual blue jeans are stained a dark navy. The edge of his t-shirt pulls up from the top of his jeans with the stretch of his arms, giving you a view of the delicious stripe of skin just below his belly button.

For the love of french toast, the guy could win a wet t-shirt contest without batting one of those ridiculously perfect eyelashes of his.

At this point you were still trying to figure out how the hell you landed this man and why the hell he kept coming back for more of you.

“Smooth as silk.” Russell gives you a lazy smile that makes you feel like butter on a pile of buttermilk biscuits. “I just finished.”

 “Really?” 

“Mhmm.”

“Huh.” You take a step closer to admire his handiwork, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath ghost along the side of your face, making goosebumps trail over your skin. All it does is remind you of what the two of you could be doing instead of standing inside of your walk-in shower fully clothed and the things the two of you had done in this very shower the last time he was in town.  

"Is that supposed to be leaking?" You ask, pointing to the place where the plate of the shower head fastens to the wall and where there is a trickle of water dancing down the white subway tile backsplash.

"Oh shit." Russell sighs, his shoulders drooping when he notices the stream. “I can fix that."

You note his sheepish smile. “Rus, please let me call a plumber. You’ve been up here for two hours!” 

“No way! They overcharge you and it’s what I’m here for!” He argues.

Maybe I should try a different approach.

“Rus.” You say sweetly, putting both of your hands on his stomach. Russell’s familiar green eyes flick to your hands as you begin to move them up the wet t-shirt. “When you showed up today I thought we’d be doing something a little different with our time.” 

Russell swallows. “Baby-”

“And the longer you stay in here-” You breathe taking a step forward as you continue to move your hands up, tracing the hardened muscles beneath your palms. “The less time we have together.” You gently press a kiss to the space where his shirt meets the base of his neck and you can feel the bob of his throat as he swallows again. 

“I-” He tries again, but you feel his hands come down to the curve of your hips to ground himself there. 

“Don’t you want to spend time with me?” You murmur into his skin, pressing your chest against his as your hands work up to the back of his neck. The water from his clothes soaks into yours, but you’re not cold. 

“You’re fighting dirty.” He half groans, but you don’t feel bad. Judging by the way his hands have begun to squeeze your hips and pull you tighter against him, Russell was enjoying this as much as you were. 

“But it always works.” You purr against his throat with a smirk. 

“Fuck, baby I-“ 

“Yeah?” 

Your smirk grows the more you tease him. By now you could feel your own heartbeat thudding in your chest calling out to his and despite how cold Russell’s wet clothes are, heat was dancing along your skin. 

“I really want-“ There’s a grit along Russell’s voice, as if he’s trying to hold on to some shred of self-control.

You loved that you were able to do this to him, it made you feel powerful and sexy. Two things that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Hmm?” You moan softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck while your lips continue their path along his skin.

He groans. “I really want to do this for you, but you’re making it kinda hard-“ 

“Really?” You mutter nipping along his jaw. “That’s what I’m making hard?”

Russell pulls back from you, holding your wrists in his large hands. But he looks far from angry. His green eyes flash a darkened pine, and dance with mischief. “Baby, trust me. There is nothing more that I want to do than show you how much I missed you.” 

“Then why-" You begin to say.

“Because I know that the second I do that, we’re not going to do anything else the rest of the time I’m here. And I want to do this for you.” Russell’s eyes shift a little lighter. He releases your wrists and cups your cheek with his large hand. You can see the love you have for Russell reflected back at you in his gaze

You sigh again a little disappointed. Today really wasn’t going the way you wanted it to.  “But I missed you.” 

“I could tell.” He smirks. “Maybe your shower head would last a little longer if you didn't wear it out." Russell sends you a salacious wink that makes you blush bright red.

“Shut up!” You slap him on the shoulder, cheeks flaming. 

Russell only smirks wider at you. “You know… I’ve got a solution for that.”

“Oh do you?” You ask innocently. 

Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

Russell hesitates, his hand still stroking your cheek softly. "I could move in."

It was the last thing that you were expecting him to say.

“See I've been thinking about this for a bit." Russell  clears his throat. “I know you can’t move because of the kids but... I want to be here in your life. I hate leaving you and each time I get done with a job I always find myself driving back to you. I don't want to be anywhere else.”

Your mouth is still open in shock, eyes wide. You couldn’t find the ability to speak.

In the months that followed your divorce you’d been on a couple of dates before you met Russell, where the mere mention of your kids sent your dates scuttling into the shadows or back to whatever swamp they crawled out of, but here, standing in front of you was a man who didn’t just want you, he wanted you, and he wanted your children. 

It was a combination that you thought you’d never find, and then you’d met Russell. A man who not only loved you, he made you feel beautiful, alive, happy, and seen in a way that you hadn’t been in years. 

Not to mention that both of your children absolutely loved Russell, and he did a good job of scaring off your skeevy ex who refused to come around whenever Russell was in town because the last time Russell had broken his nose and threatened other bodily harm.

Russell’s soft smile drops a little the longer you remain silent. “But if you think that’s a bad idea or if you think it’s too fast-”

You pull him down to you for the searing kiss that you’d wanted all day long, feeling the drag of his beard against your soft skin, and the warm pillow of his lips moving in tandem with yours. 

His hands run along the curves of your body, trailing fire in their wake, the same curves that you’d hidden under long cardigans and oversized clothes, the ones that you cursed each time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. But not since you’d met Russell. 

Not when he’d taught you that each blemish or curve you once cursed was something that could make him lose his last shred of self control and in turn, make Russell lose himself in everything you were. 

“It’s not too fast! I hate when you leave. I hate waking up in my bed each morning and not having you there holding me. ” You breathe before you kiss him again, soaking in everything that is Russell as you do. The roughness of his hands pushing up the shirt hung low on your hips, the smell of mint and gunmetal, the taste of the coffee he had this morning, and gentle drag of his wet hair against your cheeks that dip between the two of your faces when you kiss. “I want you here with me all the time.”

“Then I’ll stay.” Russell smiles so wide you can feel the click of his teeth against yours when he pulls you back in for a kiss. 

“Wait.” You smirk, leaning your forehead against his, your hands gently cupping his bearded cheeks. "If I say yes, I have one condition."

"Anything."

"Please let me call a plumber."

Russell rolls his eyes at you, but squeezes you tighter against him, green eyes flashing with mischief. “Not a chance baby.”

A/N: It was so fun to write this prompt and also to come back to these two! Thank you so much @luci-in-trenchcoats for requesting this one 🥰 If anyone else would like to ask me a prompt for my prompt celebration, here is the post:

Prompt Celebration

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always appreciated 😊

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @louisanalady

@yvonneeeee

[wlwsoccerfics]

The ACL Chaos Continues(KerstinCasparijXRuthBrownXJillRoordXCasparijReader)

A/N: this Is Part two of 'The ACL Chaos Roommates' so read the first Part before this one.

Warnings: mental health issues, ACL injury, angsty

Summary: your healing Journey continues and so does the chaos.

Jill was off the crutches. So were you. It has been two months since surgery. But you still needed a cane sometimes to get around. And your pain was still a 6 sometimes even a 7 out of 10. But you kept pushing yourself even though you knew this was probably only gonna make things worse. Your fiancee, your twin and Ruth sure saw you struggling and they became quite worried with how you were handling things.

You were standing on the back porch, trying to walk without the cane while trying to get your leg to stay straight and it just wasn't working how you wanted it to work so you became more and more frustrated. Kerstin saw you from inside and walked out.

"y/n! Stop! What are you doing?! You are clearly exhausted! And overworking yourself doesn't gonna make this better!" Your twin sister told you. Her tone was a mix of worry and anger.

You looked at her before you started yelling and crying. Hugging her.

"i hate this! I know i said i would be patient but Physio said he isn't sure i will get back to my old self! What If i can't Play anymore?!" You cried into her shoulder while she wrapped her arms around you. Holding you close.

"it will be okay! Whatever happens you are smart, you will figure something out! And you are not alone, ever!" Your twin told you. You didn't see her face but you could hear in her voice that she was close to crying.

Unknown to both you and Kerstin, Jill & Ruth were watching you from the inside. Eyes filled with concern.

"this looks serious." Jill whispered out.

"i agree. whatever it is, we all have eachother! And we will support y/n! I just hope that Kerstin managed to get through to her. Because honestly your fiancee is not doing herself any favors like that! She is overworking herself constantly!" Ruth said.

"i noticed that as well, whenever i try to talk to her about it she keeps telling me how fine she is and that i imagine things!" Jill admitted.

Back to you and Kerstin...

"Luister alsjeblieft naar wat de dokter zei." (please listen to what the doctor said) Your sister spoke up.

"Ik probeer het. Maar dit is mijn leven." ( i am trying. but this is my life. ) You explained why it wasn't so easy to let things go and give them time. You were afraid your career might be over.

"Jezelf nog meer pijn doen, maakt het niet beter!" ( hurting yourself even more won't make things better! ) Kerstin answered.

You two talked for a little bit longer before walking inside. Both Jill & Ruth staring at you.

"Wat is er, lieverd?" ( what's wrong, darling? ) Jill asked.

"zag je mij een inzinking hebben?" ( you saw me having a breakdown? ) You asked your wife.

"we both did!" She told you and was referring to Ruth as well. You sighed softly taking a step towards hery grabbing her hand gently.

"let's sit down! I can't stand for that long without a cane." You admitted.

"which is Part of the Problem. Right?" Ruth asked. You nodded your head. All of you sat down on the Couch.

"Physio says he isn't sure i will be able to play like i used to before this injury. I am afraid my career might be over." You admitted, tears streaming down your face again. Ruth and Jill both felt like someone was punching the Air out of their lungs. They didn't expect this information to leave your mouth.

"liefje, it's still early on. Give it time! Even if you can't Play as strong as you do now, it doesn't mean you fully have to stop playing. Let's Focus on the healing process now. And worry later. I know things aren't going great for you but if they don't tell you that you can't Play anymore let's not go to career ending right now. Might take you longer to get back on the pitch, but you will get there!" Jill told you. Wrapping her arms around you. you cuddled into her side. It was clear to you, Ruth and Kerstin that the speech was not only for you but really to make sense of this for herself and well and build everyone back up.

"Jill is right, be patient with yourself! Be kind to yourself! You will get back onto the pitch. Even if you can just give 50% of how you played before this injury you still are world class! You are one of the best Players in the world, y/n! So don't give up on yourself! Cause the three of us sure won't ever give up on you!" Kerstin replied.

"we are here to support your healing Journey!" Ruth let you know. Offering you a kind smile. You thanked the three of them. Trying to stay focused on the good things. You knew they were right. You had to be more kind to yourself. And see what was about to come your way. Give yourself time. The Pitch will be there when you are ready.

You look at your fiancee ,a few minutes later you spoke up.

"i am thankful your journey is going better then mine Babe. I genuinely mean that. i hope you are right with what you say about my Journey but If you aren't...i know we talked about kids in the future...and i would be willing to carry one for us." You stated.

"that's sweet Babe! But let's wait okay? Focus on healing. You will get there!" Jill said.

Turned out that you indeed just needed more time but five months later you managed to do some running without pain, working on other skills as well. It was 7 months after you got hurt now. You weren't on the end of your healing journey but you were doing so great now and everyone was proud of you. Jill was doing even better , you were proud of her.

The two of you moved back into your place 3 months ago. Planning your Wedding, which was gonna be in exactly a year from now on. You had pushed it back cause of your Injury.

Even though your journey was difficult you appreciated everyone that was there for you and you liked being there for their journeys whatever those might be. You wanted to help people and not just receive help.

[acphengene]

Gone

₊ ⁺ pairing: Sunghoon x reader

₊ ⁺ word count: 713

₊ ⁺ genre: soulmate au, angst

₊ ⁺ note: this is not Sunghoons story but more of an alternative ending for him, so you’ll get your sappy story some other time, I just needed to get this out! I have not proof read this sorry if it’s not as well written as usual

The two of you had found eachother on the day you got your mark, for a second everything turned black and white until your eyes locked and all the colors once again returned.

You had hoped it would be him, that Sunghoon was the person you were destined to be with. He had cried and you had comforted him, you always did.

He was your best friend and you were his, the two of you against the world. But then you got sick, and he was right there by your side, kissing your forehead and bringing you flowers. You never felt more blessed.

To this day he still brought you flowers every time he returned to you. You knew it was hard for him whenever he had to leave again, to go back to his idol life, forced to forget about you, forced to act like you didn’t exist. But you also knew it was for the best. It was easier this way.

Whenever he returned from his home once every year he was distant, the guys had gotten used to it over the years and left him alone. It was harder now, had been since Jake had found Dovie.

He saw how they looked at him, with both pity for not having a mark and hope that he just didn’t discover it yet. And he could tell them, tell them about you, introduce you all, but if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t ready yet.

You respected his decision, and in some ways you also didn’t mind that you were his little secret. You understood why he did it.

Today you had been excited, excited because it was your birthday and that always meant he came to visit. But he didn’t smile when he gave you the flowers, he didn’t tell you about what he had been up to. He just cried.

“It’s hard little one, it’s getting harder and harder every year”

You reached out for him but he avoided your touch. You winced.

“Sometimes I wish it wasn’t you” he finally admitted. And as much as it hurt you understood. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t mine”

He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I sometimes pretend that my person is still out there, I sometimes dream that my mark hasn't manifested yet, that it in reality is a touch mark and I won’t know until I meet her, touch her.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, it just isn't fair” he sat down on the grass, pulling at it and you rolled his eyes. He had always had a hard time sitting still, it was cute, but incredibly annoying.

“I just miss you” he said and finally looked up at you. It was as if he was staring right through you. You reached for his hand but he didn’t react to your touch. He never did.

I miss you too.

It was okay that he was sad, it was okay that he let out his frustrations, you too had sometimes wished that he hadn't been yours, but the universe had decided.

It hadn’t cared enough for your soulmate, it hadn’t given him a chance of true love, it had left him with you, and as much as you loved him, you did also feel bad for him.

He stood again after a long silence. “Happy birthday, I love you. Always have, always will”

Sunghoon stepped past you and laid a hand on the stone that stood on your grave, and you hated you couldn’t pull him close, you hated you couldn’t return the words. Couldn’t tell him that it was okay if this was the last time he came.

You always wondered if this would be the last time he came by, if he had finally healed that part of his soul enough to finally let go. Maybe the universe would grant him a new soulmate if he let you go. You hoped so.

What you failed to understand was that he didn’t want someone new, he just wanted you. He knew he would find you in his next life, and he couldn’t wait. But maybe in another universe you were still alive, maybe he was still searching for you there. He hoped so.

Note: did I manage to rip your heart out? I hope so, I know it’s mean. I’ll do him justice eventually - but first it’s Niki’s turn and I’m still so lost for ideas. Okay honestly that’s a lie I just have to many ideas and can’t figure out which one to choose. Might do a vote and let you decide 🤷🏼‍♀️

Taglist: @why4anne @juicygirl4life @azzy02 @bluxjun @why-did-i-just-do-this @elairah @ramyeonzwithspam @floating-moon-dust @skyearby @acourtofmoonlightandstars @garrdenwonie @whateveridontcaresheesh @stormy1408 @tunafishyfishylike @sol3chu @spicxbnny @blvengene

[natsredbra]

https://www.tumblr.com/natsredbra/776731062824058880/httpswwwtumblrcomnatsredbra77667302384980787?source=share

This thing about her liking a slow and strong rhythm is SO real to me, she would prefer that most of the time.

Natalie doesn't mind going fast sometimes, depending on her mood I think she could be 100% for a fast and hard fuck, but almost every time you prefer something slow and deep because like you said, it's more intimate for her and she likes that intimacy.

That scene where Nat rides Travis??? Imagine that but this time she's riding his strap on😩😩😩😩😩😩 I think it's cute that even though she's on top she still seems like a sub to me✨️ I mean, imagine her being all needy about it, doing her best to keep a consistent pace and she manages it, at least at first until it all becomes too much and she's so sensitive and just wants to cum but can't do it alone😭 her being stubborn and trying anyway because she's embarrassed to ask for help, you'd probably make fun of her a little for that (in a sweet, not mean way)

Leaving her to fend for herself until she uses her words and thoughts to help (she would probably cry in frustration)

Getting to the point where she's not even riding you anymore and just rubbing herself on your lap because she's so: 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

This would probably be one of the times she squirts

By the way would you be ok if I sent you some Twitter (porn) links because I saw some and they really gave me thoughts of Natalie

ohh, you’re welcome to send them to me pookie! (and i’ll put a warning for everyone, dw)

But ohhh my god, Nat who is all “I wanna ride! I wanna get on top.”

And obviously you let her, because why wouldn’t you? Gives you such an amazing view AND lets you save energy for some other things……..

But for some reason, she just can’t hit the spot quite like you do and it is getting on her last nerve

She’s huffing and puffing, trying everythinggg to come as hard as you make her - bouncing, circles, grinding, but none of it works

Natalie however, is very stubborn and she’d rather die than beg (unless she’s literally forced to) (she likes it, okay?)

“You doing good there baby? Struggling a little?” You ask, and all she does is shake her head quite stubbornly

So you just lean against the headboard and smirk, watching her cry in frustration

By the end she’s literally just humping your lap and trying to get friction on her clit

“Hmph, Please pleaseee!”

At first she doesn’t even realize she said it until you poke at it

Starts finally begging you with actual tears in her eyes

And this is the time she needs it fast and rough, just the way you can give it

Maybe even give her a small vibrator for the clit

Anyhow, she enjoys it much much better, and with how sensitive and wet she is she definitely comes in a matter of minutes (squirts too mhm!!)

[separatist-apologist]

I think the Mor being gay was handled so fucking disrespectfully it would have been better had she just not made her gay at all at this point. Just introduce new characters instead. Azmor was cute to me and I would have liked at least one of the main ships to be similarly aged but even if that never happened why would Mor ever need to hide it from the night court? Her friends and family of centuries!

All my thoughts are under the cut because I think some of this could be perceived as anti IC (ITS NOT) or anti Azriel (not on purpose)

I get kind of frustrated with the Mor reveal because that came wildly out of left field to me. ACOMAF is so clearly setting up some kind of love triangle between Mor/Cassian/Azriel and I think that continues to linger even in ACOWAR/SF with how Cassian is around Mor. SJM can say all she wants that its just brother/sister love but some of Mor/Cassian's behavior is very romance coded in an undeniable way (and an annoying way for Nesta imo).

I have been told that people were pressuring SJM to be more diverse which is always so weird to me because why would you look to SJM for representation? Her niche is aggressive heterosexuality, it's clearly where she's comfortable and the little representation we've ever gotten has not been handled well. I think she just doesn't know how to do it, there's no shame in that. We should be uplifting and supporting diverse authors telling authentic stories, you know?

Regardless, back to Mor- I do wonder if SJM ever considered the implications of that reveal. It makes sense that Mor wouldn't want her father to know, but Rhys? Cassian? Azriel? Her found family for 500 years, who uplifted her and protected her, often at their own expense? She doesn't feel safe telling them? Again, SJM is a teller, not a shower but sometimes she accidentally shows us the wrong thing when she's telling us something, and what I think she inadvertently showed us was that the IC is not as close as they first appear.

Which COULD be such an interesting story IF she was interested in exploring it at all. But she told us they're an unshakable family, and so they are, regardless of the subtext that suggest there are DEEP foundational cracks there. Like Mor is SCARED of Azriel, we don't want to delve into that? Or Mor is Rhys' second in command, but he actively makes a deal with Eris, who she is genuinely afraid of, and tells her to suck it up? Is that role ceremonial then? What sort of family/friendship is this?

And finally- I have always kind of assumed Mor is bisexual given she has relationships with men. There is something deeply uncomfortable and almost coercive about the thought of sleeping with other men to get Azriel to leave her alone. Like if what SJM is telling us is true and she doesn't enjoy these intimate moments with Helion, for example, and is only doing it because Azriel can't take a hint, thats....right? Like, I'm not the only person who just decides not to think about it too closely because the implications are terrifying and gross?

Cassian and Rhys KNOW (that shes not into Azriel, not that she's sleeping with Helion even though it repulses her, to get Azriel to leave her alone) this, and they choose to look the other way- how much do they even love her? It's giving "oh, he'd never hurt her" but then they all know she has no interest in him and rather than taking Azriel aside and being like, "my man its time to move on" they all just do nothing because its none of their business. I have siblings, and once when a man wouldn't take the hint with my sister, he took it up with me in the hallway at high school when I shoved him into a locker and started yelling at him.

Again, I think this kind of comes down to SJMs tendency to lean toward telling us everything, including how we should feel, but not showing us stuff. So she can say until she's blue in the face that the IC is an unshakable friendship group with a love that moves mountains but then the reality is that one of them has been tormenting the other for CENTURIES, refusing to take what I consider a very obvious no as an answer- to the point she feels like she has to perform heterosexuality so he'll back off- and no one does anything about it.

And I think thats rough.