#the whole wrapping and design is Nice
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abyssembraced · 6 months ago
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Working on an iterator design for GLaDOS <3
#ooc#my art#.☣️#☣️ verse | rain world au#((i'm thinking her name could be ''Aperture to Innovation'' or something along those lines?))#((it'd be *nice* to keep her name as glados))#((but i don't know if i could come up with a different meaning for the acronym that makes sense for rw but also glados as a character))#((plus i think that'd make her full name too long for rain world's standards from the canon names i've looked at))#((so i'm happy to have her name reference aperture science instead! and it means i can include the logo in her design and it makes sense))#((her creation opened the way to new innovations! or at least she was Supposed to lmao))#((and it also means i can still have the whole area she controls named the aperture labs/enrichment center. just that it's named after her!)#((since i know there's the guy five pebbles but i think i also read that there's also a *place* called five pebbles?))#((which i assume is just his territory area. so glados would have a similar thing!))#((her darkened eye is broken by the way! but it doesn't bother her))#((and i know i'll probably need to redesign the cores to make them more rain world-like but.))#((that will come once i actually play the game dgshsfsf. for now they're just simplified versions of their canon designs))#((and i wanted the sash thing they're on to look kinda. constricting but not immediately concerning?))#((it's wrapped around her entire body but it's loose enough that it doesn't look like it's actually causing her any harm))#((even though it Kind Of Is. or is at *least* a massive source of annoyance for her))#((though i'll have to see later if i can actually fit the whole personality core thing into the au))
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theflyingfeeling · 5 months ago
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how dare stores not sell the exact kind of products I'm looking for
#soooo as i have little to do these days i've started organising various places in my apartment#started with the bathroom cabinets. then the wardrobe#for the past days i've been organising this in-built closet in my bedroom#which i've used to store off-season clothes but also just all sorts of crap (lots of it is different kinds of papers)#however i've been wanting to make it just a closet for off-season clothes (and suitcases etc.)#because i fear all the paper i've been keeping there have been making the air in the closet sort of...musty ugh#but as i've taken out all the random crap and left just the off-season clothes i realise most of the stuff i've been keeping there...#...was all the random crap 🙃 which i have no place to put now 🙃#i mean i have one large cupboard in the kitchen above the fridge that's mostly empty but like that's not very convenient is it lol#some of this stuff i want to keep at hand so i managed to cram something into the tv stand drawers in the living room#but there's still soooooo much stuff that would require a whole another fucking closet#which i don't have!! and while i do have the space for one i want to keep my apartment kinda spacey#so i thought of buying a bench to put in the bedroom and store something in nice-looking boxes under it#and i could put idk a casual throw on the bench to hide the boxes under it and to make it look like a bit more ✨interior design✨ u know lol#but i just absolutely can't find a bench that's 1) the right colour & style 2) has one shelf underneath so the boxes won't be on the floor#i've been so close to having a sexy little meltdown about all this numerous times btw but i've been brave!! believe it or not#sooooooo i don't know what to doooooooooooo i have too much crap with no place to put them in#(and mind you I already got rid of SO MUCH crap)#also does anyone have any tips on where to store rolls of gift wrapping paper 🥱 length 70 cm#the only places out of sight where they fit are this off-season closet and the wardrobe but i don't!! want to!! put them there!!#but i also absolutely do want them out of sight as i use them about 1-3 times a year#i hate owning stuff so much ugh
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t-u-i-t-c · 6 months ago
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Final Chapter: Tomorrow's Legends
#gingaman lb#super sentai lb#umbrella.thoughts#umbrella.posts#that's a wrap people#it was nice and i really liked the effects and the designs were stellar#the bull black arc and galactic light arc in general were chef's kiss#the relationships were all really sweet and nice and i liked the inclusion of flashbacks to give more background since they've known each#other for their whole lives and i liked the tree network being used to navigate and how yuuta was like a little brother to the team and the#never discouraged him but were also clear about the dangers and risks they face as warriors but also taught him different aspects about#being a good warrior outside of physical strength#wish there was more development for things like shellinda and that the lore had been expanded upon more#also wish they leaned more into the elemental factors but i think sentai does have trouble with consistency when it comes to that#and just have a lot of questions about the life crystals that were never answered and overall just wish they didn't play it so safe for#a series with such a premise like we have mythical beasts and space pirates but dinosaur sentai lore is more wild#don't get me wrong i liked it i just know they could've gotten more creative with it#i think that it shares quite a few themes and similarities to goseiger and ryusoulger and i might just talk about some overlaps in the#future but if you like goseiger or ryusoulger you might like gingaman and vice versa#though goseiger and ryusoulger can both be hit or miss i do care for them dearly and they're favs of mine so it was nice to see some overla#overall another good season and i will be moving back to kr next and then we'll see from there :)
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ahqkas · 3 months ago
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Do you think you could a reverse of you "attractive things they do without realizing" with the bat boys?
♯ ATTRACTIVE THINGS YOU DO . . . that make them go crazy ! — part 1
— fem!reader, suggestive thoughts, mention of reader’s hair
© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified
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BRUCE WAYNE
simply attending gala with him
the gala was in full swing, the soft hum of conversation and the tinkling of crystal glasses weaving through the grand hall. bruce wayne stood at the center of it all, the undisputed star of the evening, yet his focus wasn’t on the crowd. it was on you.
you stood beside him, your hand lightly wrapped around his forearm, a subtle yet intimate gesture that spoke things without saying a word. the way your fingers rested there, so effortlessly claiming him as yours, sent a warmth spreading through his chest—a feeling that, for once, wasn’t from the weight of responsibility or the burden of his double life. it was softer, lighter. it was you.
bruce’s sharp eyes, trained to assess every detail in a room, couldn’t help but linger on you. the dress you wore was nothing short of perfection—not that it could have been anything else. he had ensured it. every stitch, every line, every fold of fabric had been crafted with you in mind. he had selected the finest material, rich and smooth beneath the touch, ensuring it draped over your figure with the kind of elegance that turned heads the moment you stepped into a room.
the deep hue of the gown complemented his suit nicely, catching the light in subtle ways, as though it, too, was vying for his attention. the neckline framed your collarbones delicately, and the way the fabric hugged your form made it impossible for his mind not to wander to how well he knew every curve beneath. the gentle train swirled around your heels like liquid, moving with you in an almost hypnotic rhythm, every step making his heart beat just a little faster.
bruce had commissioned it specifically for you, worked with the designer himself to ensure it would fit you like a second skin—tailored to highlight everything he found most captivating about you. it wasn’t just vanity, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t relish the way every person in the room couldn’t help but notice you. no, it was deeper than that. dressing you in the finest fabrics, wrapping you in elegance, was his way of saying what words often couldn’t: you’re extraordinary, and the world should know it.
to you, he wasn’t just bruce wayne, gotham’s elusive billionaire. he wasn’t the brooding vigilante who prowled the night. he was just . . . bruce. and in that moment, he felt more real, more whole, than he had in years.
he tilted his head slightly, glancing down at you, and his lips tugged into the faintest of smiles—a rare expression, softer than most would ever see. the subtle scent of your perfume reached him as you leaned closer to whisper something, your voice a low melody against the backdrop of the room. he didn’t even catch the words; he was too lost in the curve of your smile, the way your lashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, the warmth of your touch radiating through the fabric of his suit.
his thoughts betrayed him, wandering ahead to a quieter moment later, when the gala was over, and it was just the two of you again. but for now, he stood tall, the perfect host, his hand moving to cover yours on his arm. his thumb brushed against your knuckles, a silent gesture of affection and gratitude. he didn’t say it aloud—he didn’t need to—but he was thinking it with every fiber of his being: you’re the most beautiful thing in this room, and you don’t even know it.
seeing you work at his office
bruce leaned back in his leather chair, the polished desk between you serving as the only barrier to his unraveling thoughts. you stood on the other side, flipping through a file with the kind of focus that made his chest tighten, utterly oblivious to the effect you were having on him. the pencil skirt you wore hugged your hips in a way that felt almost sinful, every line and contour designed to torment him. the fabric clung just right, emphasizing the curve of your waist and the sway of your body each time you shifted. and then there was the blouse—white, crisp, and perfectly fitted, the faintest hint of skin peeking where the buttons strained against your figure. it was driving him to the edge.
the sharp click of your heels echoed softly as you moved around the room, your voice calm and professional as you recounted details of a recent meeting, flipping a page in the file without missing a beat. but bruce wasn’t listening. not really. his gaze followed the way your fingers smoothed the papers, delicate but deliberate, and his mind betrayed him. those same hands . . . what would they feel like tangled in his hair, tugging him closer? or splayed against his chest, nails dragging lightly as he pressed you against the wall?
he shifted in his seat, jaw tightening as he tried to force himself back to the present. but it was impossible. the way the soft material of your blouse tucked into that pencil skirt left just enough to the imagination while teasing at everything he wanted to do to you. his mind raced ahead, envisioning the fabric bunched around your hips, your voice losing its composed edge as he silenced every word with his lips
you glanced up at him suddenly, your eyes catching his, and for a moment, his composure faltered. his sharp blue gaze was darker now, focused entirely on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. his tongue darted across his bottom lip, slow and deliberate, as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
“are you almost finished?”
“just a few more minutes.”
his thoughts raced ahead, imagining the way your name would sound falling from his lips, low and rough, as he pulled you into his lap. how your soft gasps would fill the room, mingling with the shuffle of papers and the creak of leather as his control finally slipped. bruce’s mind was already plotting, already deciding just how many minutes he’d let you finish your work before he gave in.
DICK GRAYSON
the quiet hum of the city filtered through the slightly cracked window, the distant sounds of gotham settling into the night. dick sat cross-legged on the couch, his hair still damp from a quick shower after patrol, wearing a loose gray shirt and sweatpants. you were tucked into the corner of the couch, legs pulled up to your chest with your arms wrapped around them, your chin resting on your knees. there was something so effortlessly comfortable about the way you curled into yourself, the soft glow of the lamp painting your features in warm hues.
he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger, caught by the way the corners of your lips curved into a gentle smile as you listened to him recount something ridiculous wally had said earlier. it wasn’t just your smile, though it always had a way of knocking the air out of his lungs—it was the way your gaze stayed fixed on him, warm and attentive, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world right now.
“are you even listening?” he teased, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he tilted his head to catch your gaze more fully.
you laughed softly, a sound that melted into the quiet of the room like it belonged there. “i am,” you insisted, shifting slightly to prop your chin higher on your knees, the movement drawing his attention to the curve of your bare shoulders beneath the oversized sweatshirt you were wearing—his sweatshirt, he realized with a pang of fondness.
“good,” he said, his voice softer now, his lips curving into an easy smile. but he didn’t pick up where he left off. instead, he found himself studying the little things: the way your hair framed your face, the way your eyes glimmered with quiet amusement, the small, almost unconscious sway of your head as you rested against your knees.
“don’t stop,” you murmured, your smile widening.
dick chuckled, shaking his head. “i wasn’t sure if my story could compete with . . . well, you,” he said, his tone light but tinged with the kind of sincerity that always made your chest tighten.
“flatterer,” you teased, but the way your cheeks warmed didn’t escape him.
when you arch your back in a chair
he had only meant to grab a drink and check in with you, but the second he entered the room and saw you sitting at the table, all coherent thought vanished. he froze in place, his gaze drawn to you like a moth to a flame. you were leaning forward in your chair, your elbows braced on the table and your back arched just slightly as you studied whatever had your focus. it was innocent—completely unintentional—but to him, it was anything but.
the way your shirt clung to your frame as you bent forward made his mouth go dry, the curve of your back teasing him in ways that had his imagination running wild. his eyes lingered on the dip of your waist, the way the soft fabric stretched just enough over your hips, and he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering further—thinking about how easy it would be to step behind you, trail his hands down that arch, and pull you closer.
dick swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away, but it was hopeless. his gaze snapped back to you as if on instinct, and this time, it wasn’t just the curve of your back that had his attention. it was the way your body moved, every subtle shift of your weight making his thoughts spiral deeper. he could almost feel the press of your skin against his palms, the heat of you beneath his hands as he tipped you just slightly further forward . . .
jesus, get it together, grayson, he thought, dragging a hand through his hair and trying to clear his head. but the damage was done, and now every inch of him was on edge, his pulse thrumming in his ears. it wasn’t fair how effortlessly you drove him crazy—how just existing could send his thoughts careening into territory that made him shift uncomfortably in place.
you glanced up suddenly, breaking him out of his haze. “hey, you good?” you asked, your brows furrowing slightly in concern.
the sound of your voice jolted him back to reality, though his heart was still racing. “fine,” he managed, his voice just a little rougher than usual. he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool despite the heat simmering beneath his skin.
but you weren’t convinced. there was a hint of amusement in your eyes as you leaned back slightly in your chair, giving him that knowing smile that always made his knees weak. “you sure?”
dick’s jaw clenched as you shifted again, his gaze flickering down to the curve of your waist before he caught himself. stop it. stop it right now. but then you tilted your head, and that damn teasing glint in your eyes told him you knew exactly what you were doing.
he took a step forward, bracing a hand on the table as he leaned down, his face suddenly inches from yours. his voice was low, rough, almost a growl. “you’re making it really hard to concentrate, you know that?”
JASON TODD
adjusting your skirt
jason had been leaning against the doorway, half distracted by his own thoughts, when the sight of you adjusting your skirt snapped his attention to full focus. you were standing in front of the mirror, tugging at the waistband and wiggling it higher on your hips, a casual, innocent motion meant to get the fit just right. but to him, it was anything but casual. his eyes locked on you, darkening as he watched the way the fabric shifted, sliding up the curve of your thighs with each subtle movement.
jesus christ, he thought, jaw tightening as he tried to tear his gaze away. he failed. the small adjustment—the roll of your hips, the way your hands smoothed the material over your figure—felt like it was designed to torment him. he muttered a quiet curse under his breath, barely audible but enough to let his frustration escape.
that little motion shouldn’t have had this kind of hold over him, but it did. the way you moved, so natural and effortless, made his mind wander to places it shouldn’t. his fingers twitched at his sides as he imagined stepping behind you, sliding his hands over yours to help—not that you needed it, but damn if he wouldn’t enjoy it anyway.
you turned slightly and caught his reflection in the mirror, green eyes shooting up to meet yours as if he hadn’t been blatantly staring. “everything okay, jay?”
jason cleared his throat. “yeah,” he said, though his voice was rougher than usual, betraying him. he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning heavier into the doorway, his tongue darting across his bottom lip as his gaze flicked down again. “just . . . keep doing what you’re doing.”
you have him a look—equal parts amused and curious—but went back to adjusting the skirt, smoothing it out once more. jason bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to stay put instead of crossing the room, grabbing your hips, and showing you exactly what that little movement of yours did to him.
this woman’s gonna be the death of me, he thought, his pulse hammering as he pushed off the doorway, muttering another curse under his breath. he needed to walk away before he did something reckless—something that would guarantee you wouldn’t be leaving that room anytime soon.
when you rant to him
jason leaned back on the couch, arms draped lazily over the backrest, but his focus was anything but casual. his eyes were locked on you as you paced the room, hands gesturing wildly while you went off on a rant about something that had you fired up. he couldn’t even remember how the conversation started—it didn’t matter. what mattered was the light in your eyes, the way your whole face animated with every word, and the fire in your voice as you got lost in your thoughts.
there was something magnetic about the way you threw yourself into it, like the world disappeared except for the thing you were so passionate about. it didn’t even matter if he understood half of what you were saying—though he was trying, really, he was—but he couldn’t look away from you long enough to focus on the details. he was too caught up in the way your brows furrowed slightly when you were deep in thought, or the way your lips curved when you hit on a point you knew was good.
and that voice. it was captivating, filled with conviction and energy, a side of you that came alive when you cared about something. jason’s heart thudded in his chest as he watched you, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips.
every now and then, you’d glance at him to make sure he was keeping up, and he’d give a small nod, biting back the urge to say something dumb like, i’m not paying attention to your words, but i’m hanging on every second of you. instead, he’d murmur a quiet “yeah,” or “makes sense,” just to keep you talking.
but, damn, the way your whole body moved when you were this invested—it sent his mind places. there was a certain confidence in it, an unintentional sway in your steps as you walked back and forth, your gestures strong but graceful. it drove him crazy in the best way, made him want to grab you mid-rant, pull you onto his lap, and kiss you senseless just to see if that fire would transfer to him.
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ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting ! thank you if you do 🤍
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4unnyr0se · 9 months ago
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❥ being kento nanami's wife
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warnings: nanami being the best husband ever, mentions of overstimulation, mentions of breeding, nanami lowkey being a sugardaddy
MDNI | 18+ content
word count -> 591
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Kento Nanami fucking loves his wife.
Everything about her was perfect, right down to the letter. The way your hair framed your pretty face just right made it look like a framed painting in the Met. The way your eyes shined like the most expensive gems in the whole world whenever you saw him after such a long day in the office. The way you would bound towards him the second Nanami entered his house, tackling him against the wall with hugs and kisses and his favorite dinner on the table that only you could properly make. 
The way you dressed up for him, no matter how silly his requests were. He brings home a new designer dress? You’re throwing a nice belt over it so it shows off the waist that Nanami so loves to caress and hold. He got you some new pumps? You’re walking around in them for at least a couple of weeks; the way your ass looked even better due to the arch support in the heels. Has he bought you new and expensive lingerie from Paris? You’re all dressed up for him, displayed on the silk sheets of your Alaskan king mattress, looking like a present for him to unwrap. Nanami loved that he didn’t even have to ask you for these things; you just did them to make him happy. You, the most perfect wife, knew precisely what he wanted the minute he wanted it. 
And you were so good in the bedroom, so well-behaved, always doing exactly what he wants with no questions asked. Nanami wants you from behind? Ass up, face down in seconds with your dripping cunt on display for him to play with at his whim. Angry at a coworker that was being an asshole to him? He’s taking his anger out by fucking you stupid, your pretty wrists bound above your head with his spotted tie as he ranted and complained about his coworkers while pistoning in and out of your pussy without a thought for how many orgasms you’ve already had. Did you complete all your chores today and got caught up on tomorrow as well? He has you sitting on his face, riding his tongue as he desperately laps at your delicious arousal, his strong hands wrapping themselves around your plush thighs so you couldn’t squirm away. 
His cock was so painfully huge as well, long and girthy and oh so veiny with the prettiest pink tip that was constantly kissing your cervix. Nanami thinks it’s adorable how you swore up and down that you could handle his dick every time, babbling nonsense into his ear as he fucked you so expertly with his appendage. Your nails scratching and clawing at his back as your legs wrapped around his thin waist, shaking and twitching as another orgasm hit you like a runaway train. You could never say no to your handsome husband, but he always knew when you wanted to stop cumming and just cuddle, usually after he’s cum inside of you a couple of times.
His muscular frame cuddles you every night, no matter the temperature of the room. His arms pull you against his chest, scared you would disappear once morning came. Nanami often fell asleep to the sound of your cute little kitten snores, mesmerized by how his hickeys danced a ballet on your pretty neck. Every morning, he would wake up, and you would be in the kitchen, happily making his breakfast and humming a little tune.
Fuck, Kento Nanami fucking loves you. 
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chaddicus · 1 year ago
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so I uhhhh I use Tumblr on Firefox Android and idk what happened but for a second my dash uhhhh
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uhhhh
(I randomly picked a post to demonstrate)
it went back to normal when I reopened in a new tab but???? tht just confuses me more????
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d3stinyist1red · 2 months ago
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ʏᴀɴ ʟᴏsᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
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yan loser who is genuinely the most disgusting, rattiest, emoest mf you've ever seen.
You guys met during English, having a project assigned to the both of you to work together. The whole assignment you just ignored him, not bothering to deal with his creepiness.
He was known around the school as the schools creep, always looking at girls, getting into fights and always losing, just a really pathetic dude to keep it short.
yan loser who during English class, got paired up with you once more as you quietly groaned and your friends wished you luck
"h-hi." He said shyly, fiddling with his long black sleeved shirt that he's been wearing for probably two weeks now
You raised your eyebrow, "Uh yeah hi." You said monotonously, not wanting to even look at the weird guy next to you.
yan loser who actually managed to strike up a conversation with you after so many failed attempts, feeling a recognizable friend rise to life from hearing you talk to him for so long.
"yeah I personally think that Sasuke is the baddest character out of everyone in naruto-"
"s-sorry y/n, imma go to the bathroom o-okay?" He mumbled under his breath before getting up abruptly asking for permission to go use the bathroom and leaving.
You didn't pay it much attention due to you barely caring about him, he was just someone you could use to pass the time with in this boring English class
yan loser whose never cummed so damn much in his life in that damn bathroom stall, cumming buckets as he pants, his tongue lolling out as he giggles at the memory of you, feeling another boner coming
yan loser who comes back a few minutes later, shirt completely ruined and pants low on his hips, as your classmates hurled at the sight of him
yan loser who out of your own will, begins hanging out with you more, trying to show you his collection of Pokemon cards
yan loser who uses reddit 24/7, acting as if it's their therapist, ranting and writing full on essays about you, as he slowly slicks his hand up and down, whimpering at the sensation, thinking about the many positions he could put you in
yan loser who touched your thigh on accident once, and hasn't been the same ever since, now all he's looking at is those soft warm thighs of yours, wondering how it would feel wrapped around his head
yan loser who all he wants to do is ram his hips against yours, to fully ravage and cream inside your womb, he wants to pull out and see the sticky substance slowly drip out as well, fuck he could already feel himself getting hot at the thought..
yan loser who unironically uses brainrot alot, using it to try to make you laugh, always feeling his ego growing each time you let out a giggle
yan loser whose always playing video games, more preferably hentai games where he could customize his love interest, designing it so it could look exactly like you.
yan loser who secretly owns a private insta that is basically a fanpage of yours, that account only follows his main account and your account.
yan loser who is a complete loser who hasn't felt a woman's touch on him for years and is now waiting to breed you (or u could breed him, he doesn't mind :3 )
yan loser who is ur loser that is just a nice guy! So why don't you like him! :(
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misswynters · 2 months ago
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Babydoll
short drabble
featuring. Sylus x pregnant!reader
synopsis. In which you have no limit in what you can spend on your upcoming bundle of joy while sylus is with you. But you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Your hormones getting the best of you. As usual.
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Ah yes, the bustling mall on the edge of Linkon City. It glowed with vibrant holograms and warm neon signs, a mix of advanced technology and a touch of unique charm. Stores, boutiques and stands stretched as far as the eye could see, overflowing with goods from every corner. In the midst of it all, Sylus walked beside you, his casual tall stride alongside the protective glances he constantly threw your way. Your hand rested on your growing belly, the weight of everything making you smile.
A vendor called out, advertising handwoven blankets from a distant place, and your attention immediately locked on the soft, pastel-colored fabrics. There was pink, blue, purple, red. So many colours to choose from!
Sylus noticed your gaze and stepped forward, his commanding voice polite but firm as he negotiated the price. The vendor, who was flustered but eager, handed over the bundle of blankets. Sylus passed them to the assistant he had brought along. The pile of bags they carried had grown considerably since you arrived, each one filled with items you had excitedly picked out for the baby. Sylus’s patience never wavered, though his dry humor shone through when he teased, “Planning to furnish the whole city, love?”
Amid the joy of shopping, a flicker of self-consciousness crept into your thoughts. As you admired a delicate mobile adorned with tiny stars, you hesitated, the weight of your spending habits pressing down. Sylus noticed immediately, stepping closer and wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders. “You’ve gone quiet,” he said softly, his brow furrowing. You turned to him, biting your lip. “It’s just… I’m spending so much,” you admitted, your voice barely audible over the marketplace’s din. “I don’t want to waste your money.”
Sylus’s laugh was warm and genuine, a sound that melted your worries. “Is that what you’re worried about?” he asked, stepping in front of you and tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “You’re not wasting anything. Every single credit is worth it to see you this happy.” His tone softened further, his gaze never leaving yours. “You’re giving me the greatest gift anyone could ask for, our baby. If all it takes is a little shopping spree to make you smile, I’d do it a thousand times over.”
Tears pricked your eyes at his words, and you leaned into him, your forehead resting against his chest. “So nice…,” you whispered, your arms wrapping around his waist. He held you tightly, his hand resting gently on your belly. “Not possible,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you and the baby have everything you need.”
Back at your home, the nursery quickly came to life as you unpacked your treasures. The walls, once bare, now held shelves lined with soft toys and colorful decorations. Sylus stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched you arrange the room. “I think you missed your calling as an interior designer,” he joked, stepping inside to help hang the starry mobile you’d picked out earlier. You laughed, shaking your head. “I just want everything to be perfect.”
Sylus wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “It already is,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. You turned in his arms, your hands resting on his chest. “Thank you, Sylus,” you said sincerely, your eyes searching his. “For everything.” He leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips. “You never have to thank me,” he replied, his hand moving to rest protectively over your belly. “This is my family we are talking about. I’d do anything for you both.”
For a split second, as you were surrounded by the warmth and love. Only leaving the promise of a bright and beautiful future.
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yueebby · 1 year ago
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indulge me? — gojo satoru
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synopsis you and gojo go on an overnight mission and it goes wrong in every way
contents so. much. pining. (2.8k words of it!?), one bed trope, whipped!gojo, ooc gojo, completely self indulgent, a lot of cardiovascular talk, they’re first years in this!
notes first time i’ve written in AGES. sorry :3 ps this is a little snippet from a satosugu x reader series im thinking about starting. thoughts?
(edit: i wrote a part ii)
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Gojo Satoru was born blessed. From birth and to death he will always be honored. It wasn't his fault that the Heavens delighted in him. So when Yaga had announced that he and you would be sharing an overnight mission to Kyushu, he nearly leapt in joy (lucky him)!
You, on the other hand, were less than thrilled to find out that you were going to be traveling alone with Gojo Satoru. For two whole days. It was a death sentence.
“Make sure to text me, so I know you're not dead.” Shoko looks between you and Gojo. Either your head will implode as a result of Gojo, or he is gonna be on the receiving end of your wrath. Shoko can’t wait to see which.
“Do take pictures, I heard the onsens there are incredible.” Suguru slyly adds. Satoru perks up at his comment. The two of them share a knowing look before Gojo speaks up.
“Wanna take a dip with me once we get there, [Name]?” He looks into your eyes, his lips are quirked upwards like he’s up to no good (which he is). “I promise I won’t take a peek!” He winks.
“Keep fantasizing, Gojo.”
“Oh I will.” He hums happily. The smile on his lips is kind of cute, you decide. Just a little.
— — — — — — — 
Kurokawa, you come to find out is a very small town in Kyushu. So when people start to go missing, the entire town falls into shambles. Before your trip, Yaga had made it known the enemy you’d be facing. 
“A common denominator of the missing persons is that they were all young women.” He had warned you and Gojo. “It’s an unidentified curse, but I trust that the two of you will be able to handle it.”
Three missing girls. All under the age of 25. Two of which were locals, one being a tourist. 
The moment you arrive on the island of Kyushu, your guard is higher than ever. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Gojo.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of some horny curse,” He looks down at you as the two of you make your way down a small street to your ryokan. Kurokawa was a traditional town, its pride resting on the old culture causing it to be untouched by modern architecture.
Unamused by his nonchalant attitude, you decide to ignore his vulgar comment, “What grade curse do you think we’re up against?”
He makes a noise to show that he’s thinking. “Does it really matter? It’ll be no match for me either way.”
You roll your eyes, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, we still have to figure out what happened to the victims.”
“I don’t see why that’s necessary, but okay.” Your snow haired peer dismisses. It makes you a bit envious that he doesn’t have to ever feel fear for his life. Must be nice.
The two of you arrived at your designated ryokan soon enough, it was a small town after all. Gojo leads the way with you following right after. You can’t discern any cursed energy in the building, but you still make a mental note to ask Gojo about it after you both are situated. 
An elderly lady in an orange kimono stood behind the desk, smiling at you and you returned it back happily.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a young couple here.” She says. That’s right, with the recent disappearance of young girls, there would be a sudden decrease of tourism around this part of town. “You certainly are a beautiful match!”
You gratefully accept her compliment, “Thank you, but we’re not–”
“Thanks granny!” Gojo wraps a strong arm around your shoulder. “I don’t know how I even managed to win her over!” There’s a wide grin on his face that makes your eye twitch. Leave it to him to tell people the two of you were together. Not only that but he totally disrespected the old lady with his informal talk!
“Unhand me, you!” You forcefully whisper at him, while trying to unwrap yourself from his hold. His arm does not budge even as you try to push it off. What the hell is this boy eating? Gojo chuckles with the old lady while you struggle.
“My, the two of you remind me so much of my husband and I in the days of our youth,” She sighs dreamily. Her age must be interfering with her memory because there was nothing inherently romantic going on between you and Gojo. “How long will you be staying here?”
“Only one night,” Gojo decides that he has tormented you enough and lets you go. He slides her his card and she pulls out something from the old wooden counter she stands behind. 
A single key.
Your eyes bug out. Gojo’s eyebrows raise. You laugh nervously, face feeling warmer than it was thirty seconds ago.
“There must have been a misunderstanding. We need two rooms, ma’am.” You hold up two fingers to emphasize your point. 
The smile on the old woman’s face falls, “I’m afraid I cannot do that.” Your jaw drops.
“Huh? Why not?” You press on further. Surely they could not have been booked out of all of their rooms. Tourism is at an all time low after the strange disappearances.
“I’m sure you’ve heard of the strange disappearances in the area. It’s a miracle the two of you have even decided to stay here, which I am very grateful for. That is why I must repay you back by ensuring your safety. Otherwise I must ask you to leave and stay in the next town because I will not allow you to endanger yourself so carelessly.” 
You blink. Neighboring town? That was hours away. The curse was here in Kurokawa. You can’t afford to jeopardize a mission just because of your own feelings.
Gojo’s hand is halfway to the key, but he waits for your approval. You sigh.
“It’s fine, we can do one. Thank you.” You bow your head. She smiled apologetically as she handed Gojo the key. Gojo, unbothered by the revelation, whistles happily as the lady leads the way to your suite.
— — — — — — — 
operation satoru x [name]!!!!
Gojosatowu added getosugu, shoko.ieiri
Gojosatowu You wont believe it!!! shoko.ieiri What the hell is this gc And what the hell is Operation satoru x [name]?  getosugu  how come [name] isn’t in this? Gojosatowu Ladies, ladies, one question at a time please getosugu  Expect a forehead flick for that comment shoko.ieiri  Stfu and just answer the questions Gojosatowu alright alright [name] and i are sharing a room in kyushu!! i may come out of this mission a changed man. shoko.ieiri  someone make sure [name] is still alive and well Gojosatowu I dont appreciate your lack of faith in me >:( shoko.ieiri  Keep a six feet distance from her at all times perv Gojosatowu I might have to for my own sanity. What do you think she wears to bed? shoko.ieiri  You disgust me sometimes getosugu  Only sometimes? shoko.ieiri  Let me correct myself. You disgust me. Gojosatowu Im feeling the love :(
“What are you giggling to yourself about?” You place a hand on your hips as you watch Gojo smile at his flip phone.
“Oh don’t you worry about it,” He closes it. Weird. “What’s the living situation?”
You sigh. “Despite its traditional arrangement, there is a bed.”
Gojo perks up. “Yeesh I’m glad! If I had to sleep on the floor my back would be all sore right on a mission. Y'know how annoying that is?”
You suck your teeth. “Allow me to rephrase myself. There is only one bed.” 
There is an awful silence in the room, save for your erratically beating heart. Of course the old woman decided to place you in a couple’s suite.  
“Heh.” Gojo chortles happily. “Wow, this must be a divine sign from God Himself. I mean, who are we to ignore this?”
“Don’t start,” You hold out an accusatory finger at him. “I’m gonna go request an extra futon.”
He pouts, “Don’t be like that, sharing a bed with me can’t be that bad.”
“I’m willing to bet otherwise.” You walk past him. The white haired boy watches you go like a sad puppy.
— — — — — — — 
You took your time getting an extra futon, using it as an excuse to get all of the nervousness out of your system of sharing the same room as Gojo Satoru. Sharing a room with a boy was already bad enough, but Gojo? Your heart skipped a beat (out of nervousness, you insist!).
By the time you make it back to the room, the lights are out. You assume that Gojo decided to go to sleep early. You don’t blame him. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day of hunting for the curse rampaging Kurokawa. 
The only light source in the room is coming from the bathroom. You sigh. The idiot must’ve forgotten to turn it off. Nonetheless, you were gonna go get unready either way so you make your way to the half open door.
On the sink is a complimentary toothbrush that you help yourself to. You apply some paste and–
There is a sound of something sliding shut from behind you. You look up at the mirror. Standing behind you was Gojo. Wet. And naked. 
“Oh my gosh!” You spit out your toothpaste and ran out of the room. How did you fail to see that Gojo was in the restroom? You blame it on the sliding doors separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom. Oh my gosh. Your face feels like it’s on fire. He has a six pack. And why does his stupid hair look like that when it's wet? Your heart was beating at an abnormal rate. This is so inappropriate.
Shortly after your freakout, Gojo steps out of the bathroom. There was no way you could face him now.
“Aw, don't be so shy now. It’s not like this will be the last time you’ll see me like this.” Gojo stands in the doorway. There is a towel wrapped around his waist, still leaving him indecent in your eyes.
“I don’t like what you’re insinuating Gojo! And lock the door when you’re in the restroom you creep!” You look anywhere but him.
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault, was it? You were taking so long I thought you left me here alone.” You can practically hear him pouting. “Either way, you were the one checking me out.”
Your eyes widen, “I was not checking you out! Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Don’t feel ashamed, this can all be yours,” He gestures down to his body.
“You freak.” you blanch.
He winks at you.
This was going to be a long night.
— — — — — — — 
It takes you about half an hour to calm down from the bathroom catastrophe. By now, you’re situated in your futon while Gojo is tucked on the bed. If you had to guess, it’d be nearing midnight around now. You just need to close your eyes and get some sleep before your mission tomorrow.
Except you can’t sleep.
Every time you close your eyes, your mind betrays you and an image of Gojo post shower illustrates itself in your mind. And it doesn’t help that he sleeps shirtless. You seriously need your mind cleansed.
That wasn’t your only issue. The room was sub zero. Who knew traditional ryokans had such advanced air conditioning systems? All you could hear was the air conditioning machine overworking itself. You could even argue that it was colder than Shoko’s morgue. And your sleep shirt and shorts were doing little to help insulate you. 
“Wanna come cuddle with me?” The last person you wanted to hear from breaks the silence. You pretend to be asleep. “I know you’re not asleep! My six eyes tell me that you’re shivering.” Busted.
“I am not cuddling with you.” You stare at the ceiling above you, arms crossed. How could he even propose such an idea? Has he no shame?
“Well I can’t face the old granny here if my girlfriend ends up dead by freezing!”
“I am not your girlfriend, Gojo. Nor will I die.”
“That’s not what she thinks. Plus we have a mission tomorrow, so I can’t have you getting sick on me now.”
“I’ll be fine, Gojo. Now go to sleep.”
“I run hot when I sleep, y’know. Let me be your personal heater.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning.
“I refuse.”
“Well I refuse your refusal.”
You blink.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Now c'mon,” He pats the spot next to him. “I’ll even make a wall in between us.”
You hear the bedsheets shuffle and you have to sit up to see that Gojo was stacking two pillows in the middle of the bed to prove his point. You’re nearly certain that the only thing you’ll be catching soon is a headache if you keep up with his antics. It was a tempting offer, one that you would surely accept if it wasn’t Gojo Satoru.
“Gojo, I—”
“...Please?” His voice is softer than you have ever heard it. It was unfair how Gojo was making it harder and harder to reject his offer.
A silent moment passes by.
“...Fine,” You reluctantly get up from your pathetic excuse of a futon. “But no funny business!” You warn him. 
You see Gojo perk up from the bed. He looks at you with expectant eyes, “You got it!” He gives you a thumbs up. 
Whatever. If Gojo knew what was best for him, he wouldn’t try anything. You take in a deep breath before turning to face the opposite direction of where Gojo laid. 
“Good night [Name],” You hear Gojo whisper. You sigh.
“Yeah, yeah, goodnight Gojo.”
Eyes closed, you pray a silent prayer that everything will be fine for the remainder of the mission.
— — — — — — — 
Ever since Gojo was young, his body has been used to getting little amounts of sleep. Unsurprisingly, that caused him to have a natural alarm. It was always annoying whenever he woke up at the crack of dawn on a day when he didn't need to, but luckily for him, today it proved to be a blessing. There was an unfamiliar warmth radiating onto his body. Satoru opens his eyes.
He thinks he feels all of his six eyes widen when he feels himself wrapped around another body.
There you were, in all your beauty, lying fast asleep. In his embrace. Soft snores were escaping your mouth and there were stray hairs in your face. Did he mention how beautiful you looked sleeping? He might have to ask Shoko about heart disease because of how fast his heart was beating.
Unfortunately for him, you also seemed to be drifting away from dreamland and back to reality. Your eyes flutter and your eyebrows furrow. Gojo takes this to his advantage and does the worst thing he can think of; pretend to be asleep.
When you wake up, your mind is still hazy from the good night’s rest you had gotten, but not hazy enough to realize that your body was tangled with another’s. And you’re pretty sure the pillow you had been laying on last night was not this hard. You try to delude yourself into believing that this is all a dream, but the effects of your sleep were fading.
It takes all the strength in you to summon the courage to open your eyes. To your horror, you were firmly wrapped in Gojo’s arms and your legs were intertwined.
“What the hell?” You pull yourself away from him. On the floor below the bed laid the two pillows that Gojo had set up as a makeshift wall. You stare at them utter shock.
“No, don’t go, I’ll freeze to death,” Gojo whines, miraculously waking up. You glare at him.
“Explain to me what just happened or I swear Gojo, I’m going to–” You try to threaten him, but you can’t seem to formulate anything.
Unlike you, Gojo looked unbothered by the sudden turn of events. He even looked pleased. There was a lopsided smile on his face as he sighed, “What can I say, I guess you subconsciously want me after all.” 
"I do not—"
“But if I had to guess, I’d say the room got too cold and we most likely cuddled for warmth unconsciously.” He shrugs it off like it was no big deal. You note that his hair is tousled from the night before.
You leave the warm bed you and Gojo had made. His theory was probably true, meaning it was neither of your faults. You purse your lips.
“I suppose that makes sense. I apologize for overreacting, I guess I was under the impression that we had done something lewd last night.” With that comment, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up both your mind and body.
You don’t end up seeing how red Gojo’s face got. It was foreign to feel all the blood rising to his cheeks. He takes one of his hands to slap it over his eyes before chuckling to himself. Yeah, he definitely knows why he likes you. 
All of a sudden Gojo feels like he’s on top of the world. For you, it was just a moment of weakness.
┊⋆。˚. ੈ ┊
Extra notes:
gojo wished he and you got to go to the onsen together. 
gojo also regretted not taking a photo of you sleeping soundly in his arms. it would’ve been his new wallpaper. 
for the remainder of the trip, gojo was at an all time high, successfully locating and exorcising the curse in less than an hour.
8K notes · View notes
pucksandpower · 8 months ago
Text
What’s the Worst That Can Happen?
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Summary: Charles convinces his unathletic girlfriend to join him for his annual winter training ski trip … what’s the worst that can happen?
Warnings: description of ski injury and mentions of surgery
Based on this request
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“Pretty please?” Charles begs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.
You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh come on, you know I’m hopeless at anything athletic. I’ll just end up faceplanting in the snow the whole time.”
Charles grins, wrapping his arms around your waist. “That’s what I’m here for, to catch you when you fall.”
“Yeah until I drag us both down a mountain,” you retort.
He laughs. “I promise I won’t let that happen. We’ll start nice and easy on the bunny slopes.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Bunny slopes? Mr. Formula 1 driver wants to ski the bunny slopes with his clumsy girlfriend?”
“Hey, everyone has to start somewhere,” Charles protests. “Even the great Charles Leclerc was once a beginner. And the bunny slopes are the perfect place to learn together.”
You snuggle against his chest, still not convinced. “But it’s so cold there. You know I hate being cold.”
Charles kisses the top of your head. “The hotel has an amazing spa with hot tubs and a sauna. We can warm up in there after skiing. I’ll even give you a massage if you’re sore from falling down too much.”
“Gee thanks,” you laugh. “But what if I really am hopeless at it? I don’t want to ruin your trip.”
“Impossible,” Charles declares. “You could never ruin anything. This is about us having fun together, not about expert skiing. Though I have no doubt you’ll be shredding the black diamonds in no time.”
You smack his chest playfully. “Okay now you’re just lying to make me feel better.”
“Never,” Charles gasps in mock offense. “I have complete faith in your yet-to-be-discovered skiing abilities.”
You bite your lip, smiling shyly. His enthusiasm is adorable, even if misplaced. “Well, I guess it could be fun to try something new together ...”
Charles pumps his fist in excitement. “Yes! That’s my girl, up for an adventure!”
You hold up a finger in warning. “But I get to pick my own skis, and a helmet with a cute design on it. If I’m going to be falling a lot, I at least want to look stylish doing it.”
Charles grins. “Of course, whatever you need. I’ll take you to the best ski shops in town. You’ll be the most fashionable beginner skier on the mountain.”
You smile, shaking your head. “You’re crazy, you know that? Most guys wouldn’t want to deal with their girlfriends being accident-prone novices who will just slow them down.”
Charles takes your hands in his, gazing into your eyes earnestly. “Most guys are idiots then. I don’t care if you’re the clumsiest skier ever, I just want to experience new things with you. We’ll take everything slow, stop for plenty of hot chocolate breaks, and I’ll catch you every time you start to slip. The most important thing is being together.”
Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in for a tender kiss. “How did I get so lucky to find a man as sweet and patient as you?”
Charles smiles, pulling you close again. “I’m the lucky one. Now come on, we better start packing if we want to make our flight tomorrow morning!”
You wrinkle your nose. “Tomorrow? As in, the day after today? Don’t you think that’s rushing it a bit?”
“Why wait any longer to start having fun?” Charles counters enthusiastically. “Unless … you’re trying to back out already?” He pouts accusingly.
“No, no, I already agreed!” You insist. “It’s just, my suitcase is a mess and I’ll have to dig through my winter clothes and shop for ski gear and ...” Your protests trail off at the amused look on his face.
“Excuses, excuses,” Charles teases. “Admit it, you’re trying to stall so you can change your mind.”
You smack his shoulder again. “I am not! I promise I’m not backing out. I’m just … nervous. I’ve never skied before, what if I really am a disaster?” You bite your lip anxiously.
Charles tilts your chin up. “Hey, you’re going to do great. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But if you really aren’t comfortable, we can rethink this.” His eyes search yours with concern. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, even from me. We can pick a different winter trip if you would rather do something else.”
You shake your head, smiling softly. “No, it’s okay. You’re right, it’ll be fun to try something new together. I’m just psyching myself out cause I’ve never been skiing before. But with you there supporting me … I can do it.”
Charles’s face lights up. “Yeah?”
You nod, leaning up on your toes for another lingering kiss. “Yeah. I trust you.”
“You’re the best!” Charles shouts gleefully, lifting you up and spinning you around. You cling to his shoulders, laughing.
“Whoa there, save some of that energy for the slopes,” you tease.
Charles sets you down gently, though his eyes still sparkle with exhilaration. “I’m just excited, that’s all. This is going to be such an amazing trip.” He kisses your forehead. “Thank you for agreeing to come. It means the world that you trust me enough to try this with me.”
You smile, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. Any chance to spend time with you is worth facing my fears and clumsiness.”
Charles grins. “Remember you said that when I have to stop every ten feet on the bunny slope to help you up.”
You smack his chest playfully. “Hey! I might not be totally hopeless.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Charles says seriously. “For all I know, you could be a secret skiing prodigy.”
You snort. “Yeah right. But I promise I’ll try my best not to plow into too many innocent bystanders.”
“That’s the spirit!” Charles encourages. “We’re going to have the best time.”
You smile up at him softly. “I know. Anywhere with you feels like an adventure.”
Charles’s eyes shine with adoration. He leans down for one more lingering kiss. “I love you so much. Now come on, we’ve got packing to do!”
He grabs your hand and you let him lead you excitedly down the hall, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You still feel nervous attempting something so out of your comfort zone. But Charles’s childlike enthusiasm is contagious. And you know without a doubt that by his side, you’re ready to try anything.
What’s the worst that can happen?
***
Famous last words.
This is the only thought running through your head as you stand at the top of the beginner ski slope, knees knocking together nervously. Charles had seemed so confident about this yesterday. But now, staring down the gentle incline covered in packed snow, you’re starting to realize how insane it is to strap slippery sticks to your feet and careen down a mountain.
Beginner slope or not, you’re certain to make a fool of yourself.
Charles must notice your trepidation, because he squeezes your mittened hand gently. “You’ve got this, mon amour. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”
You smile weakly, comforted by his presence. At least when you inevitably crash and burn, it will be into his strong, steady arms.
Charles grins at you eagerly. “Ready to give it a try?”
You take a deep breath, willing your knees to stop quaking. “As I’ll ever be.”
“That’s the spirit!” Charles says brightly. He turns to address the small crowd behind you — his performance coach Andrea, best friend Joris, photographer Antoine, trainer Nico, and friend Antonio. “Okay guys, let’s start nice and easy so she can get the hang of it. We’ll take turns skiing slowly beside her.”
You feel a rush of gratitude for Charles’ patience and consideration. The other men cheerfully voice their agreement. With so many experienced skiers guiding you, surely you can handle gently sliding down this minor incline.
Charles volunteers to go first, expertly snapping into his skis and gliding to your side. “Just stay relaxed, bend your knees, and focus on keeping your tips pointing forward. The snow will do most of the work, you just have to guide the direction. I’ll stay right here if you need me.”
You wobble forward, mimicking Charles’ athletic stance as best you can. The slope doesn’t look nearly as gentle anymore now that you’re staring down it. But with Charles’ coaxing, you slowly push off.
For a moment, you feel triumphant. The icy wind whips past your face as you coast downhill, skis sliding smoothly. You’re doing it! This isn’t so hard after all.
But your small victory is short-lived. An unexpected bump jolts you, throwing off your tenuous balance. You pinwheel your arms frantically as the ground rushes up to meet you.
Before you can taste snow, Charles’ strong hands grip your waist, stabilizing you back upright. “Whoa there! I’ve got you, just regain your balance.”
Your heart pounds against your ribs. But the reassurance in Charles’s voice helps settle your nerves. With his support steadying you, you manage to get both skis back under control.
“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. “That would have been a quick first run.”
Charles grins. “What are ski instructors for? You recovered nicely. Want to keep going to the bottom?”
You eye the remainder of the slope warily. But so far with Charles’ help, you’ve managed not to cause a complete disaster. “Okay, but stay close please.”
“Always,” Charles promises, sticking to your side like glue.
With Charles’ hand hovering protectively behind your back, you make it the rest of the way down the slope with only a few wobbles. At the bottom, you collapse into Charles’ arms, exhilarated.
“I did it!” You cheer. Charles sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around.
“You were amazing!” He proclaims proudly. “A natural.”
You smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, I would have face-planted in two seconds without you.”
“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” Charles insists earnestly. “I told you this would be fun!”
You can’t help but smile, caught up in his enthusiasm. As the rest of the group takes their turns skiing slowly beside you for a few more timid runs, you start to relax into the motion. Having skilled athletes guide you step-by-step gives you the confidence to slide a little faster, turn more smoothly, and keep your balance over bumps.
With each successful run, Charles’ grin grows impossibly wider. “Look at you go!” He exclaims after your latest effort. “You’ve gotten so good, I might have some competition soon.”
You snort. “Let’s not get carried away.” But secretly, you’re thrilled by the progress. Maybe you do have some hidden athletic talent after all.
On your next run, you’re feeling confident enough to wave Charles forward. “I think I can make it one time on my own now. Just stay ahead in case I start to wobble.”
“You sure?” Charles checks, poised protectively at your side. At your firm nod, he smiles. “Alright, you’ve got this! I’ll just be a few paces ahead.”
As Charles slides effortlessly downhill, you push off after him, a fierce look of determination on your face. For a few moments, everything goes perfectly. You whoop excitedly as you zip down the slope, wind stinging your cheeks. Charles cheers you on from where he’s stopped halfway down.
But right as you reach him, disaster strikes. Your left ski hits a patch of ice and skids wildly sideways. You flail your arms, trying to stay upright, but it’s too late. Your legs fly out from under you and you’re airborne, the white ground spinning dizzily.
You slam down hard on your bottom with a painful whump. For a second, stunned silence fills the air. Then Charles is at your side, helping you up as raucous laughter echoes from the group gathered at the bottom.
“You okay?” Charles asks, barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.
You groan theatrically. “Only my pride is bruised.”
Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, joining in the laughter. “It was an awesome run up until that point!”
You lean your throbbing head against him for support. “Laugh it up, superstar. We can’t all be pros like you.”
Charles presses a quick kiss to your helmet. “Even the pros take spills sometimes. Falling is part of learning. And you really are getting so good!”
From below, Joris cups his hands to shout encouragingly, “We’re proud of you!” The rest of the group gives thumbs up and cheers.
Their support, combined with Charles’ steadfast pride, melts away your embarrassment. This mishap was simply proof you still have more to learn on your journey to skiing mediocrity.
After a few more cautious runs under the wing of Charles’ companions, you regain the courage to try solo again. Each time you stay upright a little longer, recovering from slips with increasing agility. The sun reflects brilliantly off the pristine white slopes, making you squint against the glare. But with the Dolomites rising majestically around you, icy air filling your lungs, and Charles’ voice urging you onward, you feel truly in your element.
By afternoon, the group decides you’re ready for something more challenging. Charles leads everyone to the top of a longer and steeper slope. It’s still rated for beginners, but looking down the incline makes your stomach drop.
“You’ve got this,” Charles says as you stare uncertainly. “It looks scary, but you’ll build up speed gradually. Just remember everything you’ve learned.”
You take a deep breath and nod, encouraged by his vote of confidence. As the others line up to follow behind you, Charles gives your gloved hand one last encouraging squeeze.
“See you at the bottom, mon amour!” He snaps on his own skis and glides smoothly to the base to wait. Heart hammering against your ribs, you push off.
The acceleration down the hill is alarming at first, icy wind biting your cheeks. But focusing on keeping your skis parallel, you manage to control your speed, leaning into smooth turns like Charles taught you.
Halfway down the slope you chance a glance over your shoulder. The group is fanned out behind you, following your path and whooping encouragement. Their cheers on this more difficult hill send a thrill of pride through you. Just wait until you tell your friends back home that you, Miss Uncoordinated Klutz herself, skied down an actual mountain!
But in your moment of distraction, disaster strikes again. Your right ski snags on something, jerking you off balance. Panicked, you spin your arms rapidly to recover. But it’s too late. You’re careening out of control, picking up dangerous speed.
“Look out!” You scream as you zip across the slope sideways. But the ground is racing too fast to stop. Other skiers scatter hastily out of your path as you barrel toward them like a runaway freight train. You slam through their midst in a spray of snow, not even having time to wince apologetically at the curses that follow your wake.
Up ahead, Charles’ figure grows rapidly larger as you hurtle toward him. He holds out his arms bracingly, but the impact when you collide sends you both tumbling head over heels in a tangle of skis and poles. Snow sprays violently in your wake.
When you finally roll to a stop, face down and groaning at the base of the slope, all is silent. Hesitantly you raise your head, blinking snow from your eyelashes. The sight that greets you is one of absolute chaos.
Skiers litter the slope, sprawled in your destructive path like fallen bowling pins. Poles, hats, and gloves are strewn haphazardly across the snow. Fresh scarlet tracks stain the pristine white from ski edges catching on now-shredded pants and jackets. Groans of pain and bewilderment fill the air.
Horrified, your gaze lands on Charles pushing himself up just a few feet away, covered head to toe in snow. He shakes powder from his hair, blinking dazedly. Then his eyes land on you.
“Mon amour, are you okay?” He asks, scrambling over in concern.
Mortified tears prickle your eyes as you stare speechlessly around at the scene of destruction. So much for impressing everyone with your burgeoning ski talents.
Some first day on the slopes this turned out to be.
***
As Charles helps haul you to your feet, pain suddenly explodes in your left knee. You cry out, leg buckling dangerously beneath you. Charles’ arms instantly wrap around your waist, holding you up.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow creased in concern.
You grimace, tentatively trying to put weight on your leg again only for searing agony to shoot through your knee joint. “Something’s really wrong,” you gasp through clenched teeth.
Charles’ face pales. He keeps you supported against his side as he quickly unclips your skis so you’re not stuck in them. The moment your left foot touches the snow though, you yell in pain, leg giving out dangerously again.
Charles sweeps you up effortlessly in his arms. “I’ve got you, don’t try to stand on it,” he urges worriedly.
Over Charles’ shoulder, you see his friends weaving through the dispersing crowd of skiers, fetching a medic. As they confer in urgent French and Italian, Charles holds you close, face etched with guilt.
“This is all my fault,” he murmurs, distressed. “I never should have pushed you to try skiing when you weren’t comfortable.”
Despite the fire burning inside your knee, you force a pained smile, touching Charles’ cheek. “Hey, don’t do that. I wanted to try, remember? You didn’t pressure me into anything.”
Charles just shakes his head bitterly. “But look what happened. I’m so sorry, mon amour.”
You open your mouth to protest further, but just then the medic arrives with a toboggan sled. Charles gently sets you down on the padded plastic. You recline back, trying not to jostle your leg as the medic examines your rapidly swelling knee.
At the lightest touch, you flinch away with a sharp cry. The medic frowns. “Possibile lesione al legamento crociato anteriore. Abbiamo bisogno di portarla in ospedale,” he says grimly.
Charles squeezes your hand, face pale. “He thinks you may have torn your ACL. They need to take you to the hospital.”
You blink back panicked tears. You’ve always been prone to clumsiness, but nothing this severe. As the medic gestures ski patrol over to help transport you, the pain throbbing inside your knee seems to mock your brief foray into athleticism. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for winter sports after all.
Charles refuses to leave your side during the bumpy toboggan ride down the mountain. At the base, an ambulance is waiting to take you to the nearest hospital. While the paramedics work swiftly to transfer you into the back, Charles cradles your hand, looking utterly distraught.
“I never should have let this happen,” he berates himself again. “What was I thinking taking an inexperienced skier down that slope?”
Despite your pain-induced haze, you glare sternly at him. “Charles, stop. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine for losing control. Please don’t blame yourself, you’ll make me feel even worse.”
Charles still looks unconvinced. But he forces a tight smile, brushing hair back from your face. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you in pain. Let’s just focus on getting you fixed up. The doctors will know how to help.”
You nod, trying not to let panic overwhelm you. As the ambulance wails toward the hospital, Charles keeps his gaze locked comfortingly on yours.
Once there, nurses whisk you immediately in for x-rays and MRIs. Charles paces the waiting room, refusing offers from his friends to bring him food or drinks. When the doctor finally emerges, Charles springs forward anxiously. “How is she?”
The doctor’s solemn expression says it all. “Your girlfriend has sustained a complete ACL rupture. She will require reconstructive surgery as soon as possible to repair it.”
Charles sags back against the wall, color draining from his face. You fight back tears as the doctor explains your diagnosis — one of the worst knee injuries possible. It will require months of intensive rehab even after the surgery.
When the doctor leaves, Charles returns to sit by your side from where he was pacing back and forth. The pain in your knee has settled into a pervasive throbbing. At the sight of your obvious anguish, Charles’ stoic facade finally crumbles.
“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, rushing to your side. “This is all my fault.”
You grab his hand fiercely, despite the IV of painkillers tugging at your skin. “Charles, stop. I already told you not to blame yourself. It was an accident.”
“An accident I caused by pressuring you to ski,” Charles argues miserably.
You level your most stern glare at him. “Charles Leclerc, you listen to me. I chose to try skiing. Me. Not you.” Your voice softens. “So please stop tormenting yourself over this. It kills me to see you like this.”
Charles searches your face silently for a long moment. Finally he nods, exhaling shakily. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just hate that you’re hurt. But no more blaming myself, I promise.”
You smile weakly. “Good. Now come here.” Charles leans down and you tug him into a fierce kiss, trying to convey without words that you don’t hold him responsible.
When you pull back, Charles looks significantly less tormented. He caresses your cheek tenderly. “I’ll take care of you, I swear. You’ll get the best care possible and recover even stronger than before.”
You try for a teasing smile. “Guess you’ll have to find a new ski bunny next season.”
Charles shakes his head. “Never. No one could ever replace you.” His voice drops earnestly. “I don’t care if you never ski again, I just want you healthy and happy.”
Before you can reply, the doctor returns with consent forms for surgery. When he mentions performing the operation here, Charles’ brow furrows.
“No, she needs the best surgeon possible for this injury,” he argues. Turning to you, he adds, “I know a specialist at a private clinic in Austria. It’s where all the elite skiers go. I’ll fly us there tonight.”
Your eyes widen at the suggestion, but you know better than to argue once Charles is in protective mode. You have a feeling you’re about to receive world-class medical treatment fit for an Olympian.
Sure enough, Charles arranges for emergency transport to the prestigious clinic. On the flight, he sits vigilantly by your side, holding your hand through every painful bump of turbulence. By the time you’re admitted to the glamorous facility, you’re touched, but not surprised by the lengths he’s gone to in order to help you.
The surgeon Charles selected, Dr. Braun, inspires immediate confidence with his warm bedside manner and decorated credentials. After thoroughly examining your knee, he determines you are indeed a candidate for ACL reconstruction.
Charles listens intently as Dr. Braun explains the procedure, involving grafting tissue to replace your ruptured ligament. Though you try to follow along, exhaustion and pain medication make it hard to focus. All you can register is Charles rubbing your shoulder and reassuring you that Dr. Braun is the best there is. You trust Charles completely, so his confidence in this surgeon is enough.
Too soon, nurses arrive to prep you for surgery. As they wheel your gurney toward the operating room, Charles walks alongside, face etched with worry. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “I love you so much.”
You cling to his hand for as long as possible before the nurses firmly insist he can’t go any further. As the operating room doors swing shut between you, separating you from Charles, your heart clenches anxiously. But Dr. Braun smiles kindly down at you, patting your arm.
“Not to worry, we’ll have that knee fixed up nicely,” he says. “When you wake, you’ll be on the road to recovery.”
As the anesthesia mask descends and your vision fades to black, you cling to the doctor’s reassuring words. Maybe there’s still hope for a somewhat happy ending to this disastrous ski trip after all.
***
As you blearily open your eyes, the first thing you see is Charles’ worried face hovering over you. The moment he notices you stirring, his expression floods with relief.
“Thank god,” he breathes, grasping your hand tightly. “How are you feeling?”
You blink slowly, trying to clear the hazy fog of anesthesia from your brain. “Okay I think.” Your voice comes out scratchy. You glance down at the heavy brace immobilizing your knee and the events leading up to surgery come rushing back. “Did it … go alright?”
Charles smoothes your hair back gently. “Everything went perfectly. Dr. Braun said it was a very successful surgery.”
You exhale, tension easing from your shoulders. With the capable doctor and Charles by your side, you’ve made it through the first step.
Right on cue, Dr. Braun enters, smiling when he sees you awake. “Wonderful, you’re up. How is our patient feeling?”
“A little groggy, but not too much pain yet,” you report.
“Excellent. The pain medication should be keeping you comfortable.” Dr. Braun moves to your bedside, examining your knee closely. “Everything continues to look promising in recovery. You’ll need to take it very easy for the next few weeks to protect the graft while it heals. But if all goes smoothly, you’ll be back on your feet before you know it.”
You nod, stomach swooping anxiously at the thought of the long recovery ahead. Noticing your nervous expression, Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Whatever she needs, we’ll make sure she has the best care and recovers properly,” he tells Dr. Braun seriously.
The doctor smiles. “Her rehabilitation will be the most crucial part. I work closely with a wonderful physical therapist, Elisa, who specializes in ACL reconstruction recovery. I highly recommend continuing your physio with her once you return home.”
Your eyes widen, not having considered that aspect yet. But Charles nods without hesitation. “Just tell us where she’s located and I’ll arrange for her to fly out to stay with us as long as needed. Money is no object.”
“Whoa, wait a minute,” you interject, head still fuzzy but fairly certain booking a private international physiotherapist is overkill. “That’s incredibly generous, but I’m sure I can find someone local-”
Charles silences you with a stern look. “Not a chance. Dr. Braun said this Elisa is the best. I won’t risk your recovery with anything less.” Turning back to the doctor, he adds, “Just say the word and I’ll have a plane and a place to stay waiting for her.”
You sigh, but can’t help feeling touched at the lengths Charles will go to help you heal. Dr. Braun seems equally unfazed by the bold offer — clearly Charles’ wealth affords certain privileges in care.
“I’ll speak to Elisa immediately and make the arrangements then,” Dr. Braun confirms. “With around the clock support from both her and myself, I’m confident you’ll recover wonderfully.” He gives your other knee an encouraging pat.
Over the next few days in the upscale hospital, you begin to adjust to the restrictive new reality of your injury. While your knee remains heavily braced and immobilized, the rest of your body seems to ache from compensating. But true to his word, Charles sticks to your bedside attentively, keeping you distracted with games and books during the long inactive hours.
When Dr. Braun finally clears you for discharge, you’re armed with piles of post-op instructions, crutches, and medications. As Charles helps you hobble out of the hospital lobby, you eye the crutches nervously.
“I’m not sure I can manage these things along with the brace,” you admit. The awkward metal sticks feel precarious beneath your arms.
Charles frowns, glancing between you and the crutches uncertainly. Then in one swift motion he sweeps you up into his arms instead.
You yelp in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Charles! What are you doing?”
“Carrying you, obviously,” he states, as if this were the most natural solution in the world. When you open your mouth to protest, he silences you with a look. “The doctor said to stay completely off your leg if possible. So no walking for you until it’s healed.”
You know better than to argue with Charles in protective caretaker mode. So you simply chuckle, shaking your head in amusement, and let him carry you like a princess out to the idling car.
At the airport, he again insists on keeping you cradled securely in his arms the entire walk out to the waiting private jet. Normally you’d feel self-conscious being lugged around like this in front of staff. But the utter tenderness in Charles’ hold makes you feel nothing but safe.
Once settled on the plush leather seat, Charles hurriedly arranges pillows under your braced leg. “Here, keep it elevated like Dr. Braun said. Do you need more pain meds? Let me grab you an ice pack ...”
He fusses attentively until you’re thoroughly bundled up with your knee raised and iced. Only once he’s certain you have everything required for the flight does Charles take his own seat, lacing his fingers through yours.
“Get some rest if you can,” he says gently. “I’ll wake you when we land to carry you home.”
You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “My knight in shining armor.” Leaning your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into his warmth. The steady rumble of the engines is soothing, and despite your lingering aches, you feel yourself beginning to drift off.
Throughout the flight, Charles continues diligently caring for you. He helps you hobble to the restroom with assistance. He ensures you take your next round of medications on schedule. When the flight attendant delivers meals, Charles only picks at his own, too focused on making sure you actually eat to remember his food.
You’re simultaneously touched and exasperated by his hyper-vigilance. But you know it comes from a place of love and residual guilt, so you endure his constant fussing without complaint. If doting on you helps absolve his conscience, then so be it.
By the time the jet begins its descent toward Nice, your eyelids are drooping heavily. Charles lifts the window shade, sunlight streaming over your face. “Almost home,” he says with a tender smile.
You blink groggily, glancing down to make sure your knee is still properly supported. Reassured that Charles hasn’t forgotten a single detail of your care, you nestle back against his chest contentedly.
As the jet coasts down the runway, Charles cradles you close, placing a kiss atop your head. “Get some rest, mon amour. I’ll carry you out and get you settled back home.”
His quiet promise fills you with cozy warmth despite the lingering chill from your ice pack. You let your heavy eyelids fall shut, lulled by the steady thump of Charles’ heart.
Tomorrow your intensive recovery begins. But tonight, safely encircled in your love’s arms thousands of feet in the air, you feel confident you have the strength to face whatever lies ahead.
***
When you wake a few weeks later, pale morning light is just beginning to creep across the blankets. Blearily, you glance over to see Charles already awake beside you, brow furrowed as he stares up at the ceiling.
“You’re up early,” you murmur sleepily. “Everything okay?”
Charles startles slightly, as if pulled from deep thought. He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, just thinking about some things.”
You prop yourself up on one elbow, scrutinizing him in concern. His evasive tone is uncharacteristic. “What’s going on? And don’t say nothing, I can tell something’s bothering you.”
Charles holds your gaze silently for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve just been thinking about the start of the season coming up so soon.”
Your brow furrows. The opening race in Bahrain is only two weeks away. As the realization hits, your heart sinks. With your still-mending knee, it will be a lot harder to keep up with Charles globetrotting to races worldwide. For the past two seasons of your relationship, you’ve attended every race possible together. The thought of that no longer being the case feels daunting.
“Oh,” you say quietly. “I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”
Charles’ expression is conflicted. He gently takes your hand, “I just hate the idea of leaving you here alone when you’re still recovering. It doesn’t feel right being apart.”
You force an optimistic smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself and Elisa will still be here for physical therapy. I’ll be okay.”
But your reassurance doesn’t seem to ease Charles’ frown. “I know, I’m just worried about you re-injuring yourself with no one here. I can get my mother to check on you too ...”
As he spirals back into restless thoughts, you squeeze his hand firmly. “Charles, stop. I’ll be fine, I promise. This isn’t my first time on my own, remember?”
Charles grimaces. “I know, but you’re hurt now. I just hate leaving you when you’re still recovering. If something happened while I was gone ...” He trails off, looking stricken.
Your heart swells at his protectiveness. But you won’t let him torment himself with hypotheticals. Sitting up fully, you level Charles with your most stubborn expression.
“Well then, it’s a good thing you won’t be leaving me here for long, because I’m coming with you just like always.”
Charles gapes. “What? No, you’re injured, there’s no way-”
“Uh uh,” you interrupt firmly. “I’ve been to every race I could since we got together, and I’m not about to miss one now over a bum knee. I’ll agree to skip pre-season testing but then I’m going to Bahrain no matter what.”
Charles' mouth opens and closes wordlessly before he finally manages to argue, “But how will you manage airports and flights and crowded paddocks? You’re still on crutches!”
You wave a hand dismissively. “So I’ll hobble around the paddock looking pathetic, big deal. Better than moping here alone.” Crossing your arms, you fix Charles with your most unyielding stare. “Face it, you’re stuck with me.”
Charles searches your determined expression, clearly trying to formulate another protest. But he knows you too well, can recognize when your mind is made up. With a resigned chuckle, he pulls you against his chest.
“You are the stubbornest person ever, you know that?” He kisses the top of your head, a smile in his voice. “But I really shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing can stop you from being there to cheer me on.”
You grin, basking happily in his embrace. “Damn right. You should know by now that I’m going to be by your side every race, no matter what.”
Charles just shakes his head in amused exasperation, arms tightening around you. “Well in that case, it seems I have some calls to make to arrange for your care in the paddock.”
You kiss his jaw tenderly. “See? Problem solved.” Settling back against the pillows, you add teasingly, “Now stop stressing and let me sleep a little more. Unlike you, I need my beauty rest.”
Charles barks out a laugh, the last tension fading from his frame. As you drift back into cozy slumber cradled against his chest, his steady breathing lulls you like a soothing melody.
Later that morning, it’s time for your daily physical therapy session in the makeshift rehab space set up in your apartment. Elisa guides you through gentle range of motion and strengthening exercises, keeping up cheerful encouragement. The work is grueling, but Elisa’s optimism inspires you to push through the discomfort.
You’ve just finished up with an ice break when hushed voices drift in from the adjacent room. Craning your neck, you glimpse Charles sitting at the kitchen island, phone to his ear as he rifles through an open notebook. Though you can’t make out his full conversation, you catch snippets.
“Need to make sure she has somewhere to rest comfortably ...”
“Don’t want her trying to walk too far ...”
“She says she’ll be fine, but I need to be sure ...”
You muffle a laugh into your hand. Of course Charles is already contacting Ferrari about you joining him in Bahrain, planning every detail to accommodate your injury. Elisa raises a questioning eyebrow but you just shake your head with a smile. Charles’ protectiveness never fails to make your heart melt.
Oblivious to your eavesdropping, Charles continues speaking in a hushed but urgent tone. You can visualize his serious expression pinched with concern, wanting to arrange every detail to ensure your comfort during race weekends.
It’s hopeless trying to curb his caring instincts. So you simply shake your head in amusement and turn back to your exercises, resolved not to override the plans you’re clearly not meant to hear.
After your session concludes, Elisa helps you prop up your leg to ice before gathering her things. “You’re making great progress,” she encourages. “Keep it up and you’ll be back to normal before you know it.”
You smile through your fatigue. “Thanks for everything. See you tomorrow?”
Elisa nods, waving farewell as she heads out. Once she’s gone, you eye your crutches propped nearby. Normally you’d use them to hobble around, but mischief sparks inside you. This seems like the perfect time to test your boyfriend’s hovering instincts.
Bracing yourself on the workout table, you carefully rise to your feet, keeping all weight on your good leg. The short hobble to the living room leaves you breathless, but triumphant.
Rounding the corner, you spot Charles sitting on the couch reviewing emails on his tablet. Before he notices your approach, you boldly flop down to sprawl across his lap.
Charles yelps in surprise, tablet clattering away as his arms reflexively cradle you. “What are you doing walking around alone? Where are your crutches?”
You grin up at him impishly. “Must have forgotten them back there. But I managed okay for a short distance.”
Charles gapes, torn between horror at your recklessness and awe at your determination. You take advantage of his stunned silence to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down into a kiss.
“Have I mentioned how amazing and caring you are?” You murmur when you finally separate for air. “Taking care of me even when you think I don’t notice?”
Understanding flashes across Charles’ face and his cheeks tint pink. “You heard that phone call earlier, didn’t you?” At your smug grin he groans. “I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you.”
You laugh, nuzzling your nose against his. “It was very sweet. But you really don’t need to go through so much trouble for me.”
Charles’ eyes lock earnestly on yours. “It’s no trouble at all. I want to make sure your needs are taken care of so you can be comfortable and safe.” He brushes your hair back gently. “I hate the thought of you struggling while supporting me at races.”
Your playful expression softens. You take his hand, intertwining your fingers against your heart. “Do whatever you have to do so that you can focus on driving your best without worrying about me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a few weeks of long flights and sitting in the back of your garage instead of standing. As long as I’m cheering for you, I’ll be happy.”
Charles searches your face, as if committing every detail to memory. “I don’t deserve you,” he says finally, voice husky.
You smile, squeezing his hand. “Sure you do. We take care of each other. It’s what partners do.”
Charles’s eyes shimmer with emotion. He cradles your jaw, kissing you deeply. When he draws back, the anxious creases in his face have smoothed away, leaving only tenderness.
“I promise I’ll do my best not to worry,” he concedes. “Just promise you won’t push yourself too hard.”
“Deal,” you agree easily, then smirk. “Now, how about carrying me back to the crutches you claim I so desperately need?”
Charles laughs, once again sweeping you effortlessly into his arms. You cling to his shoulders, perfectly content to let him fuss over you just a little longer.
***
“We should all go skiing together!”
Pierre’s enthusiastic suggestion makes you freeze mid-bite, forkful of pasta suspended comically halfway to your open mouth. Across the table, Charles goes completely still, face draining of color.
Oblivious to your boyfriend’s reaction, Pierre barrels on with growing excitement. “There are some amazing resorts in the Alps we could visit over New Year’s. Epic mountains, fresh powder-”
“No!” Charles interjects forcefully. He looks mildly ill at just the thought. “Absolutely not happening.”
Pierre blinks in surprise at the vehement refusal. Even his girlfriend, Kika, appears confused by Charles’ sudden change in demeanor. You have to press your lips together to keep from laughing at their bemused expressions.
“But why?” Pierre asks, brow furrowed. “I thought you loved skiing.”
Charles shudders. “Not anymore. Not after ...” He trails off, eyes darting to you meaningfully.
Understanding dawns on Pierre’s face. “Oh! Right, of course.” He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t think-”
You wave a hand, unable to contain your amusement any longer. “It’s okay, Pierre. I know you didn’t mean to bring up traumatic memories.” You cast a teasing glance at Charles. “But I think skiing might permanently be off the table for us.”
Charles nods emphatically. “Absolutely. Never again. From now on, we take beach vacations only. Somewhere warm, with no snow, mountains, or treacherous icy slopes.” He shudders again for effect.
By now, you’re laughing so hard you have to set down your water glass to avoid spilling it. You knew Charles was still sensitive about the topic of skiing, but you hadn’t anticipated him having such an extreme reaction tonight. His overprotective dramatics are too adorable.
Still chuckling, you lean over to smack a kiss on his cheek. “You’re being ridiculous, but it’s very sweet that you’re so traumatized on my behalf.”
Charles wraps an arm around you, some tension easing from his shoulders. “After what you went through, can you blame me for swearing off anything to do with skiing forever?” He shakes his head vehemently. “Never again. It was the most terrifying experience. I thought I might have permanently damaged the love of my life.”
Your heart melts. “I’m completely fine now, thanks to you. But I can understand preferring to avoid ski trips in the future.” You smile teasingly. “We can find a nice beach to lounge on instead.”
Pierre chuckles. “Yeah, that’s probably smarter. Sorry for bringing up bad memories.” He smiles sheepishly across the table. “A tropical vacation does sound nice though!”
The group dissolves into easy laughter, the awkwardness forgotten. The conversation meanders to warmer destinations and the approaching off-season. Charles eventually relaxes his grip on you, seeming reassured that skiing is off the table.
You make it through the rest of the amicable double date without incident. As you all exit the restaurant into the cool night air, Pierre turns to you and Charles apologetically.
“Really sorry again for that ski trip suggestion earlier. Definitely wasn’t thinking.”
You wave off his concerns with an easy smile. “Don’t worry about it! No harm done.” You pause, then add impishly, “Though from now on, Charles may vet all vacation plans just to be safe.”
Charles nods, face comically serious. “It’s true. I take your physical safety very seriously now.” His grave expression cracks into a grin. “So expect lots of beach vacations in our future together!”
Everyone dissolve into laughter again. After final farewell hugs, you and Charles head to your car, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.
Once home, Charles tucks you into bed with an amount of care bordering on reverence. As he curls up behind you, you lace your fingers through his against your heart.
“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You murmur into the darkness.
You feel Charles smile against your hair. “Maybe, but feel free to say it again.”
You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “You’re pretty much the best boyfriend on the planet. I love how protective you are over me, even when it’s a bit dramatic. It just shows how much you care.”
Charles presses a kiss to the top of your spine. “Of course I care. You mean everything to me.” His voice drops lower. “I never want to be the reason you get hurt again.”
You roll over to face him, gently cradling his jaw. “You could never hurt me. What happened was an accident, and I recovered just fine. So no more feeling guilty, okay?”
Even in the dim light you can see the sincerity in Charles’ eyes as he searches your face. “You really are too good for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll try to stop feeling overly responsible. Though I make no promises on vetoing future ski trip suggestions,” he adds with a teasing grin.
You laugh, snuggling happily against his chest. “Now get some sleep.”
As his breaths deepen into slumber, you reflect on how lucky you are to have found someone so devotedly caring. With Charles’ fiercely protective presence heating the sheets beside you, the future — filled with sandy beaches rather than ski slopes — looks bright indeed.
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russo-woso · 1 month ago
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I'm watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians and I'm slightly obsessed with the idea of Leah being with someone from that family who is so different from her family in the sense that she doesn't get involved in many arguments on the show, she's of course rich rich but doesn't spend all her money on designer things and donates to organisations and such which is how Leah met her through an event or something
So can I request where the team/Leah's friends meet R and are just like 'Now how tf have you come back from an event in America with a freaking KARDASHIAN as your girlfriend?!' 😂😂
You’re dating a Jenner? || Leah Williamson x KarJenner!reader
Masterlist
Summary You and Leah finally announced your relationship to Leah’s teammates
You weren't like your sisters, you never were.
Despite the similarity in wealth, you never spent it on designer clothes or Botox or multi million dollar houses like your sisters - instead spending it on charity and the less fortunate.
That was just one of the reasons you weren't similar, another obvious different being that you were into women, not men.
Although there were many differences, your profile was still just as high.
Invitations to many many red carpets still in your life.
You normally said no to quite a few of them - normally the big ones - but when one in England came through you decided to accept the invitation. You don't know why but you just had a good feeling about it.
You'd travelled to England the day before the event, your body full of nerves at the thought of the red carpet.
Despite growing up with fame, you still grew nervous at the thought of paparazzi.
Unbeknownst to you, there was a person that you met during the event that took your nerves away completely, that person being Leah Williamson.
You and Leah hit it off immediately and let's just say... you didn't end up in your hotel room that night.
The two of kept in contact, FaceTiming most nights.
Leah then made a visit out to America to see you and on the final night, she asked you to be her girlfriend.
You'd said yes of course.
That was six months ago now and since then, you'd told your family and close friends but there was one group of people you hadn't told yet - Leah's teammates.
Due to your fame, you both didn't know how her teammates were going to take it.
But as you and Leah were finalising you moving in with her, you figured you'd have to tell them sooner or later.
Which led Leah to organising team bonding night at her house.
The team were aware Leah had a girlfriend but they had no idea it was you.
When Leah told them team bonding was round hers, she also mentioned they'd be meeting her secret girlfriend for the first time.
That really seemed to get them excited, most of them eager to see who you were.
"You watch, it's going to be someone we know." Beth said to Steph as they pulled up on the driveway.
"Or someone famous. She's gonna be from the Kardashian's or another famous family." Steph added
"The Kardashian's? No Kardashian or Jenner would get with Leah." Beth joked. If only she knew.
A few other girls pulled up shortly after and soon enough the whole squad was on the doorstep waiting to be welcomed in.
"Do we even know how they met?" Kyra questioned, clearly talking about you and Leah.
"Apparently at some event."
"So she's also famous then." Vic pointed out, the team humming at the realisation.
The door opened and revealed Leah, she welcomed them in, all the girls trying not to make it obvious that they were looking around for another person in the house.
"She's upstairs getting ready, she won't be long." Leah told them, clearly knowing they were looking for you.
Everyone got settled when they heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
"Hi everyone." You said with a big smile, waving politely as their jaws dropped.
"Oh my god..." Alessia whispered
"Hiya, pretty girl." Leah said, bringing you onto her lap as she wrapped her arms around your waist.
"You're..."
"Y/N, nice to meet you all."
"They know who you are, baby." Leah laughed, watching her teammates reactions.
"I called it. I said it was a Kardashian or Jenner." Steph exclaimed. "And here's Beth saying Leah couldn't pull one."
"Hey!" Leah frowned at Beth, offended at her past words.
"I didn't know you actually could." Beth said, putting her hands up in defense. “Like how do you go to an event and end up coming back with a Karjenner?”
“Well…” Leah began, smirking at you, obviously remembering the night the two of you shared when you first met.
“Actually no! Don’t share!” Beth immediately shouted. “We don’t want to hear.”
“Is this a joke? Y/N it’s okay if you need some help. Leah’s got you held hostage doesn’t she? I’ll ring the police if you need me to.” Alessia told you, clearly not believing that one of her best friends was dating you.
“You don’t need to ring the police.” You smiled, resting your hand on Leah’s chest as you looked lovingly up at her. “We have to hide from le first and then ring the police.”
“Why are you targeting me too?” Leah gasped, gently hitting your arm as you smiled at her.
“You’re different from your sisters.” Kyra pointed out, you nodding and giving her a smile.
“I love them, don’t get me wrong, but money doesn’t interest me. I have a lot of it but I don’t need it. I’ve got all I need right here with me.” You told her, kissing Leah’s cheek.
Most of the girls awed at your response but there was one girl who still sat with her jaw wide open - Alessia.
“Are we still all aware Y/N Jenner is sat in the room with us?”
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citrustan · 1 month ago
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slipping through my fingers [5] (myg)
title: the storm-ish 1.0
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pairing: min yoongi x reader
genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut
summary: you meet yoongi's fiancée for the first time and... don't care to get a good read on her. yoongi keeps upsetting surprising you.
warnings: [other parts should be read before this one] this one's frustrating, there's not much improvement regarding oc and yoongi, it gets worse actually. aand it's a teensy tinsy bit unedited bec j don't have access to my laptop rn.
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"Here's the dining area!" Taehyung fakes excitement as he leads the party further into your home, "I set the table."
You crouch down, catching your daughter in a tight hug, “Hi, baby,” you whisper into Nao’s hair.
For a second, you could pretend everything was normal. Just you and your kid. No pink hair highlights.
But then you stood up and saw Yoongi standing awkwardly behind Naomi.
“Hey...” Yoongi greeted you softly. His eyes briefly met yours before flicking back to Nao, “Hyejin wanted to meet you, and, uh… she brought dinner.”
You forced a small, tight-lipped smile.
Dinner. She brought dinner. As if that made any of this easier. Still, you nodded once, knowing you had no choice but to go through with this.
Hyejin had walked into your kitchen by now, snooping around with curious eyes. She wants to know you so bad. Picking up a random iron skillet from the drying rack, she observes the room intensely.
She eyes the colour scheme you picked out for your whole house. It's plain but not bland, she notes. White. A little... woody. Vintage. Yet very colourful and so full of personality.
A lot of well-executed DIY projects, most likely done with your daughter--- a windchime, stained glass paintings, miniature clay figurines, jars of seashells, hanging jellyfish lamps, personalized ceramic plates and mugs with designs painted and characters sculpted onto them.
Hyejin finds you fascinating.
She noticed a bunch of crocheted tapestries. Similar to the ones in Yoongi's room. She had always found it an odd design choice in his home. But, it makes perfect sense in yours. And obviously, she finally understood where he got it from.
And she can't wait to finally get to know the woman who had her soon to be husband wrapped around her finger for years.
Yoongi never told her why you broke up but she intends to get that information out of the two of you today.
Suddenly snapping out of it, you speak stiffly, “Oh, um, thank you,” gesturing at the bags of food place on the coffee table.
Your eyes dart towards Hyejin, who was already gliding back to you sporting a bright, effortless smile.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, _____,” Hyejin smiled warmly, "Your home is lovely. You really are a true creative."
Whatever that means.
“I hope it’s okay I tagged along. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now. Yoongi never talks about you."
Oh!
That definitely didn't hurt.
You smile, not knowing what to say. Simply nodding, “Thank you. And sure, it’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine.
You still felt disrespected.
Taehyung’s brows raised slightly, but he didn’t comment either. Instead, he offered you a supportive smile from behind Hyejin and mouthed, 'You’ll be okay.'
You can only hope you would.
Yoongi knew how fragile you were, and how hard it was for you to see them together, but he had let this happen anyway.
Yet, you understood Hyejin too.
It isn't really her fault. You'd have felt better about it had this been your decision.
"Mimi, go wash up for dinner." Yoongi instructs his daughter.
Then Hyejin chimes in, "But remember not to get your hair wet! _____, do you have a shower cap she can borrow?"
Your mouth drops open a little and your ears start to heat up.
Who does this woman think she is? She's talking to you as if you're not Nao's MOTHER.
What the hell does she mean 'Do you have a shower cap she can borrow?'
That's your kid, not hers.
Not realising you were glaring at Hyejin, you forced out yet another smile. This time it was glaringly obvious.
"She has one. She knows where to find it. Don't you, Nao?" You smiled down at her fakely.
Your daughter grabbed at your dress, "Yeah. But it's okay if I don't use it. My school doesn't allow colourful hair. We'd get into trouble." She directed the last half to Yoongi's fiancée.
Oh, thank goodness it wasn't permanent dye. You breathe a sigh of relief.
Hyejin's smile drops a little but she recovers almost instantly. "Oh, wouldn't you want to twin with me though?"
Is this lady emotionally manipulating your kid?
You don't give Nao a chance to respond because you knew she'd never want to hurt anyone's feelings and you hate that she's pushed in a corner now. "Wash your hair, honey," you smile down at her sweetly, "Use mommy's shampoo if you need to."
Yoongi finally decides to intervene. "Or we could let Mimi make her own choice. She knows the consequences, and is smart enough to decide what's better for her."
And unsurprisingly, ever the diplomat (which is odd because he's literally a lawyer by trade), he won't take sides.
Sadly, he's wrong this time.
Your squint your eyes at him as if you can't understand him, "What consequences? There's a consequence. Just the one. And she already stated it. We'll get in trouble with her school."
Your anger is a bit misdirected when you demand your daughter to clean up, "Go wash your hair, Naomi. I don't want to see even hint of colour that's not natural."
Nao's eyes widen before she runs off pouting. She knew you hadn't meant to scold her but it still upset her.
This is exactly what you were worried about.
You look at Taehyung pleadingly, prompting him to check on Nao. He immediately complies and chases after her.
You weren't ready to deal with Yoongi's new life now because you knew you wouldn't be able to digest it. You did not want Nao taking the heat for something that isn't her fault. But you suppose that's inevitable because you still haven't learnt to process your feelings and emotions about Yoongi.
Also, in all honesty, you could've dealt with the school. It wasn't that serious of an issue. They aren't too strict on the appearance discipline, especially hair.
You're on a roll now though.
"And what the hell are you doing altering my daughter's appearance without consulting me anyway?" You don't know who you squeaked it at but it was definitely warranted for.
"She's my daughter too, _____." Yoongi speaks cooly yet firmly.
"Exactly. She's yours and mine. And I need to be part of every decision making process," you scoff frustrated, "I mean, how would you feel if Taehyung and I decided to chop her hair off? What if the three of us get... I don't know, bowl cuts?" You're on the verge of yelling.
Yoongi looks bewildered, "You wouldn't do that."
You record the time. This is the moment you think Yoongi finally understands you.
"That's the point, Yoongi!" You exclaim. "Of course I wouldn't because I'm not fucking stupid!" You place emphasis on 'stupid', "-and I respect you!"
The jab wasn't subtle.
"What are you implying? That Hyejin is? That I am? That we don't respect you?"
"Oh, am I wrong?" You raise a brow.
"It's just some hair dye."
"That's not the issue here," you suddenly point at his fiancée, "And why are you calling my kid Nao?"
Hyejin's eyes widen at the sudden attention. She looks to Yoongi for help.
Taehyung reemerges from Nao's room when he hears arguing.
He observes Yoongi's stance and his explosion radar goes off, "O-okay, why don't we just-" but before he could even try to diffuse the situation, Yoongi loses it on you.
"God, _____, what the hell is wrong with you?!"
A sharp pang hit your chest, it felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room.
He's never yelled at you before. He's yelled with you, around you, maybe even about you but never at you.
Moreover, he did not deserve to scream at you.
You wish you could just pout and run away into your room like your daughter had.
Instead you stand your ground and stare at Yoongi's face, challengingly.
Hyejin just stood back, a little bewildered. She's surprised Yoongi had it in him to scream this loudly. And he's the least angry, most stable person she knows. Though, she doesn't know how to feel about him treating you like this.
On one hand, she's elated that he's speaking in her defence. And on the other, she's worried she'd be on your bad side after this. And that you'd keep Nao from her. If she didn't have a relationship with Nao, she can't possibly continue being with Yoongi.
For a while, nobody said anything. Taehyung was too afraid to even breathe let alone say anything.
The two of you were like a pressure cooker.
And let's not get into what Yoongi said--- 'What's wrong with you?'
You'd like to know. Clearly, something must be wrong because you don't know why he'd marry a woman after months of dating but not you even after years of being together and even having a child with.
You watch as Yoongi's fiancée grasps his hand to calm him down.
There have been very few moments when you've wished you had one of your classic cream pies to smash in someone's face.
Now is one such instance.
And then it happens.
Your vision begins to blur.
Not wasting any time, you wrap your arms around yourself in a soothing manner and storm off into your room, refusing to break down in front of a stranger.
You wanted to make a good impression so badly but it was just too soon.
Yoongi swiftly shook Hyejin off of him to follow you but was pulled back by a strong arm. Taehyung.
He glares at the taller man before yanking his arm back, continuing after you.
Before you could slam and lock your door like a petulant child, Yoongi blocks it with his foot, "Stop."
"I don't want to talk to you." You assert.
"Then don't. Just listen to me." He suggests. More like demands. His face was stoic as ever with maybe a hint of discomfort and remorse now.
"Please?"
Outside, in the living room, Heyjin and Taehyung awkwardly lingered.
Taehyung breaks the silence, "You just had to do this now, didn't you?"
Hyejin doesn't reply but gives him a pointed look.
As much as she trusts Yoongi, she doesn't trust you and Yoongi locked in a room together. She noticed way too much passion for two people who've broken up.
Unfortunately having crossed way too many boundaries already, she can't help but just wait.
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₊˚.🎧 ✩。 rose blood by mazzy star ₊˚.🎧 ✩。
note: fuck tumblr for posting my half-baked chapter im literally so fucking annoyed i had to redo all the changes but it's whatever!
exhales
and i am still sorry for the delay! please let me know what you think; love it, hate it, can't stand it, can't live without it? tell me! bec i wanna hear all about it
(anf did you catch a subtle Gilmore girls reference 😋)
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creative-jeaniuss · 2 months ago
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i love reading ur silly little headcanons ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) what do u think the arcane characters wuld give u for ur bday •ᴗ•
The best birthday!
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(GIF by me!)
🐝 ~ Awh tysmm!! So glad you like my writing :3 I was stumped with a lot of characters for this one, so I only did 5, I hope that’s ok!<3
Fic includes: What the female cast of arcane would get you for your birthday<3
Warnings: none, but def a lil favoritism on Maddie’s :3
Genre: fluff (modern!au)
Characters: Vi, Maddie, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika
♡ ~ Fem!reader - she/her prns used for r - wlw
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Vi
✧.* She would get you something super special along with something silly.
✧.* Vi doesn’t like getting too sappy about things, but she’ll put her heart and soul into her gift.
✧.* On your special day, she hands you a poorly wrapped gift with a small doodle of the two of you holding hands.
✧.* She isn’t the best at gift wrapping, but she tired her best to make it look nice- Even put a little bow on top<3
You hold the box in your hands, a look of excitement present on your face as you carefully open the gift. You find a cute bundle of some of your favorite things, things she knew meant a lot to you- Even one of those cute heart locket necklaces with one of your favorite photos together. Just as you were gonna gush about how thankful you were for the gift, you notice one last thing.
With steady hands, you move the other items out to reveal a bear stuffy with Vi’s face plastered on it. A look of surprise and amusement comes to your face while holding the little bear. Vi’s loud laughter could be heard soon after, nudging you affectionately and flashing you a bright smile.
“So… do you like it?”
-
Maddie Nolan
✧.* Maddie is nervous that you wouldn’t like her gift. She made sure everything was as perfect as can be, anything for her love!
✧.* She’ll go around to her friends asking for their opinions on what she had made for you. “Do ye think she’ll like it? I hope it’s good enough- I just want her to be happy, ye ken?”
✧.* The girl cares for you so deeply. She’s excited for your birthday in general, practically a bomb waiting to explode from excitement.
✧.* She also pours all of her love into a sweet card for you, and of course an adorable drawing of your favorite animal on the front of it.
“Awh… Maddie, can’t believe you made all this for me- I love it so much!”
Maddie smiles, her hand scratching at the back of her neck bashfully- she was so happy you liked it. Your voice was like music to her ears, she could watch you open gifts all day. The way your eyes crinkle when smiling, your cute smile lines-
“Mads, you ok?”
The girl snapped out of her thoughts as she heard your voice, you speaking to her directly. Maddie nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed.
“Y-yeah! ‘M fine, I’m glad ye like it. Does it fit?”
You look at yourself in the mirror, wearing the shirt and hair accessory that Maddie had made for you. You had no idea that Maddie was so good at sewing, you were pleasantly surprised.
“It’s perfect.<3”
-
Caitlyn Kiramman
✧.* If you didn’t think that Caitlyn would know what you want for your birthday, think again.
✧.* She may be a bit awkward when actually giving you the gift, but really- She’s so excited to see your reaction.
✧.* Be prepared to be flabbergasted with the most well written card you probably have ever read- Ever.
Caitlyn smiles as she watches you read her card. The look on your face was to die for, you were clearly touched by Caitlyn’s passionate writing.
“Thank you so much, Cait..”
The soft murmur of your voice reached Caitlyn’s ears, she smile growing as she glanced away, trying to not show how affected by you she truly is.
“I’m glad you like it, I did get it in your favorite color, right?”
“Yes, you did- Don’t worry, silly.”
You spoke reassuringly to your girlfriend as you went to sit beside her, holding the pair of headphones in your favorite color.
-
Jinx
✧.* Homemade!
✧.* Her whole gift is homemade, everything wrapped in a colorful blanket that has a cute design painted on it… Just for you<3
✧.* Oh yeah, there is definitely glitter in that thing.
“Tadaaaa~! Whatcha think, toots?”
Jinx spoke in a cheerful manner, looking at you excitedly- Waiting for a reaction.
You sat there covered in glitter, a dumbfounded expression on your face… The initial shock of glitter getting all over you eventually fades into a smile.
“I love it, Jinx. You’re so talented~”
You say affectionately, giving a soft kiss to Jinx’s cheek.
-
Sevika
✧.* Like Caitlyn, she’s a little awkward when giving gifts. Maybe even seeming a little too nonchalant.
✧.* But we both know on the inside, she’s over the moon happy to be able to celebrate your birthday.
“Sevika- this is so sweet, I had no idea you knew how to make paper roses~”
Sevika rolls her eyes at your teasing, leaning back on the couch with a small huff, her hand resting on your thigh affectionately. She had gotten you one of the Lego flower sets, a few paper roses and of course a small card. Whether you like Lego’s or not, it’s fun to build it with her.
“Wanna build the Legos now, or later?” (She won’t admit she’s kinda excited to build legos with you.)
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Ty for reading! If you’re new here, check out my intro and masterlist if you’re interested <3 Requests are open!
Intro // Masterlist (links)
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rothpie · 3 months ago
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❝FIDELITY❞ |part6
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MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank
Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.
Warnings: pregnancy symptoms
previous - next
You're sure it’s all coming to an end.
This is how things will wrap up. You didn’t expect to experience these days like this. You hoped for a nice pregnancy, one full of flowers—no, not flowers, they wouldn’t do. You’d imagined a cozy, cushioned, perfectly comfortable pregnancy.
You were sure you could handle anything that came your way. There was nothing you couldn’t accomplish. At least, that’s what you believed.
But today, you’re convinced the world is ending.
Everything, everyone feels like an enemy. It’s not that you think the world revolves around you, but you’re pretty certain that everything in it holds a grudge against you.
It’s the moment where your life seems to be unraveling, every piece of familiarity breaking apart. As if every sense you have has turned against you, you stand in a moment that should be ordinary, but instead, it feels as though the universe has designed a unique form of torment just for you: an assault by smells.
At first, it starts small. A faint, floral scent wafts in on a gentle breeze. You take a breath and recoil—suddenly aware that every scent you’d barely noticed before has escalated to the level of catastrophe. And this assault feels custom-made for you.
It’s not just annoying; it’s tragic. The life-wrecking kind. As if the whole world conspired to make you sense every odor within a fifty-kilometer radius. Maybe you’re exaggerating, but with good reason. Even the air itself feels like it’s joined a scheme to turn your life into a living hell.
“Is this really how it’s going to end?” you wonder, brows knit in frustration and disbelief. “Not with some grand, heroic moment, but because of the lovely scents of spring flowers and who knows what else?”
You tug the collar of your shirt over your nose, hoping for some relief, but it’s no use. The smell is still there, ruthless and unavoidable. Every little thing—each faint whiff of grass, distant barbecue smoke, even that fresh ocean breeze—seems to assault you from every angle.
You wonder if you’ll ever be able to step outside again. Ever. What if this is your reality now? The girl who can’t even stand a pleasant spring breeze.
Before going to bed, you’d hoped today would be a good day. With the cooler weather, you figured you’d finally be able to sit on the balcony and enjoy the day. But the moment you woke up, you knew that was never going to happen.
You didn’t wake up normally. It was more like waking up in a storm. Your hair a tangled mess, all those stupid smells already churning your stomach. For a moment—a brief, ridiculous moment—you thought the smell was coming from you, and you ran for a long shower, hoping to wash off whatever it was that haunted you. But even in the shower, every scent seemed so overpowering—you honestly thought you might die right there.
You barely remember dressing and making it out of your room. You didn’t even have time to dry your hair. Even though the warmth of the air was no real threat, you normally liked taking time to do your hair. But today, you hated it. Just like you hated everything and everyone else.
Your parents had already left for work, but the lingering scent of their perfume filled the house. Not like a fading scent, either, more like they’d moved in. They might as well have been living with you now…
Just one more thing to hate.
And the worst part? Even if you threw up, the nausea wouldn’t subside. It was killing you from the inside, torturing you. Almost as if it were enjoying watching you suffer.
Of course, you hated that, too—classic.
You can’t deny that stepping out onto the balcony brought a bit of relief. The only smell that didn’t bother you was the salty sea breeze. But even if the sea and salt provided some comfort, those damn blades of grass. The green monsters.
You hated every single one of them—every blade of grass on the planet.
This world reeked. You definitely needed to move to a different planet.
Your phone lights up with notifications, and you glance at it, rolling your eyes at the useless updates. You hate the sound they make, but you’re too lazy to turn off the notifications.
The first video on Instagram has you widening your eyes.
You really might die.
Right on the screen are juicy cherries and strawberries. Right there, in front of you. You want to lean in and take a bite. Just seeing them makes it feel as if their scent is reaching you, and for once, you don’t hate it. For a fleeting moment, you think the world might be a good place again.
It doesn’t take long before you’re in the kitchen, searching every possible spot for fruit. You scour the fridge, praying there’s just one, but there’s nothing.
If you don’t eat a cherry or a strawberry right now, you know you won’t make it. And the fruits staring back at you from your phone screen aren’t helping.
Your pregnancy has been…unique. You’ve turned against the things you once loved. You used to be a banana fanatic, but now even seeing one makes you queasy. The smell alone is enough to make you throw up. You could catch the scent of a banana even from the other side of an open field.
Thank goodness your family finally understood and stopped buying them. You didn’t want to see or smell them.
Chocolate was a different story. You used to love dark chocolate, but now it was a love-hate relationship. Some days, the smell was unbearable, and others, you felt like you couldn’t get out of bed without it. Milk chocolate was fine. A classic. You always loved it. But white chocolate…that was your sworn enemy. You hated the greasy feel it left in your mouth; it didn’t even taste like real chocolate.
Disheartened by the lack of cherries or strawberries in the house, you leaned against the counter, your gaze fixed on the screen. They looked so inviting. Juicy, fresh, bright red—they were calling your name. They were crying out for you. They wanted you.
You couldn’t hold back—
You tried to calm yourself. You could ask your family to pick some up on their way home. But waiting until evening felt impossible. It wasn’t just that you needed the fruits; the fruits needed you.
Besides—it wasn’t you, it was the baby. Right?
Without thinking twice, you dialed JJ’s number. You didn’t have many friends. JJ wasn’t really a friend either, but they knew you were pregnant. And since they’d brought you ice cream the other day, you thought maybe—just maybe—they’d do this too.
If they didn’t, well, you’d just hate them.
They whined at first, like a baby. And you hated them for that. You’d asked politely. In your way, but still polite. But the call ended in a minor argument, and you hung up on them.
Yet about twenty minutes later, as you lounged on the balcony watching a video, you noticed a blonde figure approaching your house from afar, a smile creeping onto your lips.
You still hated him. But if there were strawberries or cherries in that bag he were carrying—well, let’s be honest, you’d still hate him, but just a little bit less.
“Don’t get too excited,” JJ said, climbing up the steps to your porch with a cardboard bag in hand. You quickly closed your laptop and nudged it aside.
You could’ve hugged him, but that would’ve been too much. And unnecessary.
As you got up and walked over, he looked at you with a smug grin. His hair was tousled from the wind. He looked a bit…tired, but still the same, with that empty look in his eyes—the one that always made him seem a bit clueless.
As you pulled the bag toward you and peeked inside, your eyes sparkled at the sight.
He’d gotten you the fruits you wanted. He practically glowed before you. You could almost hear them calling, “Mommy!” or “Eat us!”
As you gazed at the berries, you heard JJ muttering, “It’s for the baby, not you. And do you have any idea how expensive these were? The guy ripped me off! Told me they were organic and pesticide-free—these better taste good, or I’m going back to give him a taste of my punch.”
Honestly, you couldn’t care less about what he were saying. Even if you wanted to listen, your eyes and mind kept drifting to the fruit. JJ, noticing this, just smiled as you slipped a strawberry from the bag.
Before you could even get the strawberry to your mouth, JJ’s hand shot out, grabbing yours. You turned a questioning look on him, but he was staring at you in horror.
“Don’t eat that, dude! Are you crazy?” he practically shouted.
“Let me eat it! What is wrong with you?” You tried to pull your hand away, but JJ let the bag drop to the floor, using his free hand to pry the strawberry from yours.
“Wash it first, will you? You’ll make yourself sick.” You made another grab for the berry, but he jerked back, hiding it behind him. Was he playing some kind of sick game? You could just about strangle him.
When he still wouldn’t give it up, you lunged for the bag on the floor, but JJ was faster, snatching it up and holding it out of reach. “You’re acting like you wash every berry you eat! Give it here; one berry won’t hurt me.”
JJ only smirked, raising the strawberry to his own mouth. You stared in disbelief, seriously considering murder as he bit into your strawberry. He had a special way of making even a good deed annoying.
You watched as he took a bite, juice dribbling down his chin. That should have been you. That strawberry was yours.
“Look, I get it, you think I’m crazy. But in case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one eating it, and I’m definitely not pregnant, so if anyone’s getting sick, it’s just me, not some baby. Now, once you wash these, I won’t say a word,” he said with a sarcastic eye-roll.
Did he… did he just… gently parent you?
While he finished the rest of the strawberry, he nodded toward the kitchen. You took a deep breath, reluctantly heading inside, leaving the door open behind you. You heard JJ following, his footsteps close behind, and ducked into the kitchen as quickly as possible.
He let out a low whistle, glancing around at the kitchen. “Nice place you’ve got here. Get me a bowl. I don’t trust you with that, either.”
You rolled your eyes but grabbed a big bowl from the cabinet, handing it to him. He accepted it with a smug grin, eyes fixed on you. “Your hair’s wet.”
Was he stupid, or just messing with you?
“Yeah, and?” Did he think you didn’t know? You’d left it wet on purpose. Besides, drying it would’ve taken extra effort.
Setting the paper bag on the counter, JJ gave you another pointed look. “Idiot.”
Was it even possible to spend time with JJ and not roll your eyes?
Absolutely not.
That guy had a sixth sense for irritating you. So what if your hair was wet? It wasn’t the end of the world.
You hopped up onto the kitchen island, quietly watching as JJ washed the berries with exaggerated care. His back was to you.
As annoying as he was, you knew you probably owed him a thank you for going out of his way like this. Not many people would’ve done it, and if you’d asked anyone else, they would’ve asked too many questions. And then, somehow, everyone would know.
When JJ finally came over with the bowl of freshly rinsed fruit, a draft blew in from outside, bringing a horrible smell with it.. It was as if the air itself was rotting.
“What is that smell?” JJ looked around, half-thinking maybe it was him.
“What smell?” He was giving you a look, probably convinced you were imagining things. He’d just showered, put on fresh clothes, so he was certain it wasn’t him.
Watching you pinch your nose, JJ started sniffing around. You looked ready to bolt, but you clutched that bowl of strawberries like your life depended on it. Wherever you were going, they were coming with you.
“It reeks, JJ! Don’t you smell it?” You took your hand from your nose just long enough to give his a quick flick, making him wince. You hadn’t even hit him that hard.
“Are you crazy? There’s no smell—it’s the air freshener. You’re seriously losing it.” Your eyes widened as you realized where the stench was coming from. No way were you staying here a minute longer.
That air freshener—that evil little device—was getting tossed tonight. The second your parents got home. You weren’t about to suffer with that scent for another second.
You leapt down from the counter, sidestepping JJ and covering your nose as you rushed for the door. “Not going to die in there today.”
As you darted outside, you could hear him laughing behind you, and your brows furrowed. Was he actually finding this funny?
“Dying? Seriously? It’s just an air freshener—it’s not like it’ll kill you!”
Oh, it was going to meet its end in his mouth if he kept this up.
You dropped into the big armchair on the veranda, finally popping a strawberry into your mouth.
The taste was indescribable. Pure sweetness and flavor exploded as soon as you bit down, almost overwhelming. You actually closed your eyes, a satisfied sigh escaping you as you sank back, like you’d just tasted a little slice of paradise.
“You good?”
You opened your eyes, finding JJ grinning at you as he sat down in the chair next to yours. You smiled back, nodding.
“Thanks,” you said, popping another strawberry in, and JJ’s smile widened as he nodded, murmuring, “You’re welcome.”
Not going to lie, you wanted to keep every last one for yourself. But since he’d gotten them for you, it felt wrong not to share. You held the bowl toward him, and he took a cherry, tossing it in his mouth.
“You know what just hit me?” JJ looking at you with a glint in his eye as he munched on the cherry. You set the bowl between you on the armrest, curling up in the seat comfortably. “The air out here stinks.”
While JJ just looked at you, his brows raised. He paused for a moment, sniffed the air, and then shook his head. “Honestly—not trying to mess with you, even if I do enjoy annoying you. But there really is nothing. It doesn’t smell like anything.”
He looked at you seriously as he leaned back and took a bite of a strawberry.
Even though you stared at him like he was an alien, he just kept looking at you. You searched his face for some sign of judgment or that classic “you’re crazy” look, but nothing. Just seriousness.
“I hate these pregnancy symptoms. They ruin everything.” You leaned back, refusing to let go of the bowl. But when you heard sounds beside you, you looked up.
You watched as JJ pulled his phone from his pocket, and you popped a cherry in your mouth. Just as you thought he was bored with you and about to ignore you, you heard him start reading: “It says here: Eat smart. Leave your windows open. Sniff the good stuff. Distract your nose. Chew on a piece of gum or suck on a hard candy…blah blah blah. Show me the conclusion here—yep; Unfortunately, there’s no way to train your nose not to be super sensitive while your hormones are surging. This is one of those mom-to-be experiences you’ll have to wait out until the later months.” With a deep sigh, he tossed the phone aside.
Did he just… no. You weren’t even going to think about that. Not now, not ever. He actually just… no. Stop.
Eat a strawberry. Yes. Strawberry.
“To summarize, that’s all nonsense. I’m sure there’s a fix. Don’t worry.”
You took a deep breath, shoved a couple more strawberries into your mouth, and nodded. You weren’t going to stress about it. Of course, it would go away.
“Calm down, Strawberry Monster. They’re all yours.”
Feeling an odd pang, you looked down at your hand. Slowly, you put an untouched strawberry back in the bowl, sitting up and chewing the berries in your mouth as you brought a hand to cover it. JJ was watching you with that—idiotic expression. He really needed to stop looking at you like that.
You just… felt weird. In a way you’d never felt around him. Almost like—like… embarrassment.
You hated it. You hated this feeling. Who did JJ Maybank think he was to make you—feel embarrassed?
He… he couldn’t. It didn’t even make sense to feel that way. You didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Just—ugh.
“What did you do today?”
What did you just say? No, you didn’t. You didn’t actually ask him about his day, right? This was just a dream. Yes, a daydream. That’s all.
JJ looked at you in surprise, like you’d thrown him off, and you hated yourself for that moment of panic. Was there never a time you could actually think clearly?
Out of all the ways to switch the subject, out of all the things you could tease him about, you asked him about his day? Like you were close? Like friends who ask each other how their days went?
Why don’t you send a good morning text while you’re at it? You’re such an idiot.
JJ glanced at you in shock, fidgeting with his hands as he pursed his lips. He pulled his hand away from the bowl and set it in his lap, looking away thoughtfully. Then he turned back to you.
“Stayed home,” he said, lifting his hand to scratch his neck. Things had suddenly gotten so awkward. Had either of you ever asked this kind of casual question before? “Well, my dad’s place. I left the house this morning. Surfed for a bit; the weather’s getting colder. Feels like the last few days of the season. You should try it—before it’s too late, I mean. Took a shower, stopped by John B’s place. Was there most of the day. Then you called.”
Besides the strange awkwardness of the question itself, you listened carefully, actually a little surprised he answered. You expected him to tease you for it.
You nodded to show you were paying attention. But still, you couldn’t help but wonder. John B and his other idiot friends—did they see that you’d called? Did they talk about you? Did they know you were pregnant?
No. He would’ve told you if they did. You didn’t want to admit it, but you trusted him. He wouldn’t tell.
“You said’ JJ, please, please bring me strawberries. I’m begging you.’ And, because I’m a hero, I immediately grabbed the strawberries—” JJ barely managed to shield himself as a pillow you tossed at him hit him square in the face, and he let out a pained groan as you laughed.
You hadn’t begged him. He was exaggerating, as usual. You didn’t.
“You’re rude.” JJ took the pillow and set it in his lap, grabbing a cherry and biting into it. “You’re liar.” You chuckled as juice from the cherry ran down his white shirt. “And an idiot.”
As he looked at his shirt in dismay, he tossed the rest of the cherry in his mouth. “Oh, shit.”
As you both sat in silence, you handed him a napkin from the table, but there was no saving that cherry-stained shirt. It was a goner. A small part of you felt guilty, knowing it was sort of your fault. Hormones were a nightmare. Getting upset over a shirt was stupid. But you felt bad anyway.
“Want me to lend you a shirt?” You didn’t really care what he said. You were going to grab one anyway. You just asked to make him feel like he’d made the decision. He was still grumbling as you stood up. You grabbed a strawberry as you turned to go. You could hear him calling after you, but you didn’t look back.
“It’s really not necessary. Hey!” Whatever he said, it didn’t matter. Your hormones were all over the place, and you’d rather just give him a shirt than obsess over that stain for days.
In your room, you stopped to look through your closet, pausing when you saw certain shirts. It felt like the universe was playing a joke on you. There was Rafe’s shirt. And not just his—the one JJ had given you on that day at the beach was in there too.
Caught up in the memories, you took a deep breath. Without a second thought, you grabbed Rafe’s shirt and shoved it to the back of the closet. He didn’t belong in your life anymore. He’d chosen that, and you’d accepted it.
You didn’t want to see him. You’d gone out of your way to avoid certain places just because you knew he might be there. You weren’t sure if you were more scared of bursting into tears or slapping him if you saw him. You just didn’t want to see him.
You were afraid of people noticing your stomach. It was barely showing, still small enough that no one else would see, but you knew it was there. And you didn’t want anyone else to know. You were scared. You weren’t ready to tell anyone, so you kept to yourself.
You stayed home, knowing no one could see you here. But lying around all day had gotten boring. Your chest ached with growth, and your back was screaming. You needed something to distract you, anything to focus on. But instead, you let your fear keep you stuck here. And you couldn’t stand it.
Thinking of JJ waiting for you downstairs, you pulled yourself together and glanced at your closet. You could give him his shirt, but—your hand went to your own white T-shirt instead. For reasons you didn’t quite understand, you chose that over JJ’s sky-blue, detailed tee.
Shutting the closet, you pushed memories away, focusing on what lay ahead. Your future. Your small family. You and your tiny baby.
You promised yourself you wouldn’t get hung up on the past.
Straightening the shirt in your hands, you stepped out onto the veranda. JJ was out there, taking in the massive front lawn. Probably imagining he could play golf on it—it was that big. His attention turned to you as you came outside, his gaze settling on the shirt in your hands. Realizing you were about to make him wear it, he took a deep breath as he watched you settle into the big chair beside him.
When you handed him the shirt, there was a quiet understanding between you. Without a word, he took it, stood up, and, without hesitation, took off his own shirt.
So—he was undressing in front of you.
It wasn’t as if you hadn’t seen a guy shirtless before, but it still felt...weird. You’d seen him like this hundreds of times—hanging out on the beach, at parties, surfing, or just swimming with you.
But this felt different. He wasn’t doing it for fun or the beach. He was changing clothes. And you felt like some creep, like you were spying on him.
You couldn’t remember ever looking at him this closely. His skin was smooth like porcelain, and he looked like he’d been drawn to perfection. But his shoulders were the most noticeable feature. His V-line was just barely visible above his low-riding short—
You were startled out of it when his shirt smacked into your face. “Stop staring, creep.” JJ chuckled as he put on the shirt you gave him.
You hated him for that. But, honestly, you deserved it. You’d been staring. And you hated that even more.
You knew JJ would keep teasing you, as always. Soon enough, he got a call from John B about something “urgent” and said he had to go. You didn’t stop him.
The rest of the day, you ate all the strawberries and cherries JJ had brought over. The day was so dull you thought you might pass out from boredom. You even tried to sleep just to pass the time.
Hours later, you were stretched out on the couch, arm draped over your forehead, letting out a deep sigh. You’d tossed the automatic air freshener out in the yard earlier, so the house finally smelled right.
The door opened, and you didn’t need to guess who it was—it could only be your parents. Your mom set her bag by the door and approached you with that concerned “mom look.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” she greeted with a soft smile. Too exhausted from battling weird smells all day, you barely opened your eyes. As her footsteps came closer, she sat beside you, stroking your hair.
She’d finally come to terms with the fact that you were keeping this baby. She was being kinder, warmer to you, and you were grateful for it. With your hormones already wreaking havoc, you couldn’t handle your family being harsh on you. And, honestly, you couldn’t blame them. If your own daughter had gotten pregnant, you’d probably react the same way. “How was your day?”
Turning to face her, you let out another dramatic sigh. Your mom was the only person you could let yourself be a little dramatic around. She’d even started indulging your mood swings. “It was awful. The air...smelled wrong. Like I was breathing in something sour and flowery at the same time. I wanted some fresh air, but everything outside felt too much. The neighbors’ lawns smelled like they were on fire. I even threw out that air freshener because it was practically a health hazard!”
Your dad, standing by the door listening to the conversation, exchanged a knowing look with your mom. That silent parent communication—they didn’t need words to be on the same page. They probably chalked it all up to pregnancy hormones. But to you, the world really did feel like a sensory assault.
He came over and sat on the edge of the couch, giving you that serious look he used when he really wanted to listen.
When he gently said your name, it caught your attention. Sitting up a bit, you looked over at him, and he took a deep breath. He seemed ready for a serious talk, but your mom beat him to it. “Have you...thought about taking a tour of the island, love? Maybe it’d do you some good.” You shook your head, rejecting the idea right away.
Not anytime soon, anyway.
You’d barely managed to go to the hospital, and only on the condition that it was on the mainland. The last thing you wanted was for people on the island to find out you were pregnant. The thought of anyone gossiping about you made your stomach churn, so no. You weren’t doing it.
“Couldn’t you just try?” Your mom’s voice softened. She knew what was going on, understood how you were feeling, but it bothered her to see you isolating yourself when your bump wasn’t even showing yet.
It hurt her to see you wearing yourself down like this. She already felt like she’d failed as a mom for not protecting you, and seeing you holed up inside just twisted the knife.
“I don’t want to. I’m...happy here at home. I’m not going outside.”
Your parents weren’t oblivious. They knew exactly what was going on. They shared another look, and your mom let out a deep breath, still stroking your hair.
Your dad, sensing he should step in, spoke calmly, saying your name again. He stood and leaned against the table in front of you. “Your mom and I...we know this is a tough time for you.” He glanced at your mom, who nodded, eyes full of tender concern. “We don’t want you feeling trapped.”
His words didn’t quite make sense. It was like he was speaking another language, and as you failed to understand his point, your mom straightened up and explained, “What your dad means is…” You sat up, looking between them both. “If staying here is too hard, we’re open to other options. Maybe somewhere quieter, where people don’t know you.”
You blinked, feeling a spark of surprise and maybe a little hope. Were you hearing this right? “You mean...move?”
A place where no one would judge you, where you could tell people you were pregnant without a second thought?
And they’d do this, just for you?
Your dad nodded, his voice steady and reassuring, his face calm with a soft smile. “If it’d make you feel better. Yes.”
Your mom smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, her face lighting up. She didn’t want to see her daughter feeling trapped. She’d rather you be happy somewhere else than miserable here. “We could find you a place. And even though your dad and I might not be able to leave because of his work, I could come see you whenever you needed, love.”
Watching the warm look they shared, a tangle of emotions filled you. The idea of changing things for something better felt comforting. You knew your parents had their work, friends, and lives here—roots in this town. But even so, they were willing to shift everything if it meant you could have a fresh start.
But then the reality of it hit you. Your dad’s work was here; your mom had built a life in this town. They couldn’t always be there. You’d have to face some things alone.
You pushed that thought aside and looked back at your dad. His face held that unwavering, supportive expression you’d grown up with. “If a new start is what you want, we’ll find a way. It could be short-term or long-term, whatever you need.”
Your mom reached out, holding your hand, her eyes full of encouragement. She only wanted what was best for you. They could find you a home and make sure you had everything you needed. “We want you to know you’re not alone, love. We may have made mistakes at first, but we’re here now, ready to support you however we can. We’ll be right here.”
You nodded, moved by the weight of their support. Your heart felt like it would break from gratitude. You almost wanted to cry right there. You felt like you could hug them forever. Moving to a place where no one knew your life, away from judgment and rumors, felt...right—a fresh start for you and the baby.
But as you imagined this new life, you realized that, even with their support, you’d be walking this road mostly on your own. They wouldn’t always be there. You’d told yourself you could do this alone, but the thought of being without them was still daunting. What if you needed them?
“Thank you… to both of you,” you say, your voice soft but filled with gratitude. There weren’t enough words to fully express your thanks for their decision to stand by your side. “I’ll think about it. I really will…”
Your dad reaches out to take your hand, giving you that reassuring smile. With your mom and dad standing behind you, you feel a strength you haven’t felt in a long time. “Whatever you decide, we’re here for you.”
Your mom nods, wrapping you in a warm embrace. “And if you change your mind, we’ll start packing those boxes,” she whispers, giving you a little wink, trying to bring a smile to your face. And for the first time in days, you find yourself truly looking at the future with a real sense of hope. This was real…
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choslut · 5 months ago
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˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ ⌇ DRESS UP DOLL. featuring s. gojo.
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↻ satoru gojo loves two things ; money, and playing dress up with his favourite girl.
tags : lingerie, daddy kink, light praise, creampie, possessive behaviour, spanking, light choking, hickeys, overstimulation (if you squint) // wc. 0.8k
author’s note : the first event work !! thank you for all the love you gave to the masterlist post, and i really hope n pray none of these works disappoint. love you all, notes n reblogs are appreciated <3
this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.
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GOJO loves playing dress up. he has a whole wardrobe in his penthouse apartment filled to the brim with pretty dresses and matching designer purses, along with classy two piece suits and a shoe collection costing a decade’s worth of the minimum wage salary.
he’s proud of his clothing collection, but he’s more proud of the beautiful girl who gets to experience this lush and lavish collection of expensive designer clothing, his own dress up doll who he makes sure looks nice and pretty just for him.
tonight, he’s decided he won’t take you out for a date in the city. he could’ve called his driver, had you dressed in his favourite silk bodycon and sat in a tri-michelin star restaurant in under an hour, but satoru gojo doesn’t feel like sharing his special doll with the eyes of the commonfolk. no, tonight, he’s had you stay in, and he’s still managed to play dress up all the same, but this particular outfit is reserved for his eyes only.
“turn around for me, doll. wanna see that cute little ass of yours in that thong.” you turn yourself on his king size bed and bend over forwards, teeth digging into your bottom lip as he runs a slender finger just along the hem of your lace panties and under the elastic garter. “you like this set?”
“yes, daddy,” you respond, back arching and hips swaying when he snaps the elastic back onto your thigh. “it’s my favourite.”
gojo smiles. “you said this about the one I bought you last week, angel. maybe you just like spending my money.” he doesn’t take offence to the fact that so much of his funds are spent on you. in fact, he’s happy that he’s the one that gets to spoil you rotten, because no other common guy out there could give you even half of what he has.
“i want you to keep this on, okay?” his voice lowers to a soft croon, his large hands scoping the planes of your soft flesh before coming down hard, leaving slightly reddened palm marks against your skin. you nod shakily, and he smiles, toying with the belt on his pants before finally pulling them down to his thighs, along with his boxers to reveal his erect length.
even as he pushes the seat of your panties aside and teases your dripping hole with his tip, gojo can’t help but lament on how god damn pretty you are. your face being buried in the pillows causes your back to arch deliciously, and the way you groan when he slides all the way in has him fighting the urge to cum right then and there.
“you’re killin’ me, doll,” he groans, large hands moving from your ass to your hips, pulling you back on his length. “so fuckin’ pretty, and all mine, right?” you nod helplessly, fingers curling in the sheets when you feel his tip press up against your cervix.
“ ‘n you look so gorgeous in this set, doll. almost like it was made for me to buy it for you, huh?” he wants to ruin you. he wants to tear the lace right off of your back, leave it in tatters on the floor like a child tossing away wrapping paper on christmas day. but he won’t, because it cost him a sweet buck, and he actually likes the way you look in it.
from his position behind you, gojo drinks in the view of the bra clasp straining against your back, and the sight of your breasts pressing against the mattress through the lace, no doubt providing your nipples with delicious friction. his hand slides up to your shoulder and around your neck, pulling you up against his chest.
“mine,” he borderline growls in your ear, hips snapping brutally against your ass repeatedly. “you’re mine, doll. who do you belong to?”
“you, daddy!” tears stream from your eyes as his lips latch onto your neck, teeth grazing your pulse as you feel an all too familiar warm fluid being pumped into your spent cunt. your walls tighten, and suddenly you’re falling over the edge too, twitching in gojo’s grasp as you finally find your climax.
in your lust-drunken haze, you flop back onto the mattress, ass still up and folds leaking with cum as you huff into the pillows. gojo finally slides out, a low whistle sounding from his lips at the sight of you, still clad in your expensive lace as his release drips between your thighs. before it can reach the garter strap, he swipes it up with his fingers and pushes it back inside, smiling when he feels you begin to tremble.
“don’t worry, doll. i just wanted to make sure we don’t get my new favourite set dirty.”
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PREVIOUS : N/A NEXT : SHARING IS CARING ft. toji fushiguro + shiu kong
liked that? check out the WE’RE SO BACK main masterlist.
© choslut — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.
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tojisun · 11 months ago
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dbf!simon but he's actually nice (basically not dear john! simon) teehee <33
he is so sweet and indulgent. he spoils his pretty darling because all he wants is to see you smile. he pays for your tuition, your dorm rent, your groceries. he gives you allowance, and tops it off when you off-handedly mention that there's a new necklace you really want to buy.
he drives you around in his car; picking you up from uni turns into an impromptu trip. he lets you pull him into different shops, and even asks if it'd be okay for you to show him what you want to buy. so you do: you model every clothes you pick, every accessory, and simon's there to compliment you. to praise you. to help you with the zippers or strings or buttons.
he buys you designers, but also those silent rich brands.
but the thing that he does that you love the most is that he lets you talk. vent. ramble.
you pull him into his living room and open your heart out, and simon's there to listen throughout. there are days when you need his help and he offers it with no hesitation, and there are other days when all you need is someone to listen to you and simon is even better at that.
at the end of it, he pulls you to his lap and presses a kiss on your temple.
"what can i do?" he asks.
"just.. please, hold me. just that," you reply, shy after your break down.
and simon does so, careful as he wraps his arms around you before tucking you underneath his chin. he rubs his palm on your back and rocks you two as new tears spill from your eyes.
you two sleep there, on his couch, sometimes. tomorrow, the two of you will wake up with a kink on your necks or backs, but you always feel a whole lot lighter and simon thinks how the backpain is all so worth it.
he cooks you breakfast.
(he's not really good at it so you take over. simon sits on the island in the kitchen, watching you as you flutter around, humming softly to yourself, and wonders if it's too early to give you the gift stowed in his dresser.)
(it's a diamond ring.)
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