#these asks have us rolling and crying sobs

[aanxiousangel]

happy endings ༄ Portgas D Ace .MDNI. AANXIOUSANGEL ©

AANXIOUSANGEL © DO NOT FEED ANY OF MY WRITINGS TO AI PROGRAMS OF ANY SORTS; I DO NOT CONDONE THE USE OF AI. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

synopsis ༄ you saved ace that day but nearly lost yourself in the process content ༄ mentions of death, the war at marineford (pre-timeskip), mentions of kid!reader bullied, uh…semi-described smut(?),… wc ༄ 2.5k author's note ༄ this actually is another request on ao3! i love ace so much and i ended up sobbing because this sweet boy deserved to live. actually, crying over whitebeard rn too LMAO im very sensitive rn SORRY!

No one knew why you were a part of the crew. Not why Whitebeard kept you around. No one knew you were the captain’s blood daughter. His one and only. His dream come true. Well…mostly. It wasn’t all that complete once your mother had passed giving birth to you. He’d never say it, but that broke him inside. Just a little.

After he’d collected so many ‘brothers,’ you had lost track of who was who at some point. Mostly, you stuck around the fleet commanders, recognizing them with ease. Marco, Jozu, Thatch… The list goes on. Honestly, they were all pretty sensitive about your slight forgetfulness so you had resorted to calling everyone ‘bro.’

Years and years had passed when you’d met Ace. At first, you really didn’t like him. He kept trying to fight your father, attempting to kick his ass and get the jump on him.

It never worked of course.

And finally one evening, he quit. You were at Marco’s side, hand on your katana’s handle. He carried a bowl of fresh soup, still warm and steaming. And all alone, you saw it. Well, you saw him.

Ace sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, head low as he wallowed. You tensed and stayed just a few feet back as Marco walked over, setting the bowl beside him. For the first time, you heard this man’s voice low and serious.

“Tell me… Why does everyone on this ship call him Pops?”

“You don’t get it? Because he calls us ‘sons.’”

You watched Ace’s brows knit ever so slightly, staring at Marco.

“None of us have any family left. Hell, the whole world hates us.” Marco continues, still smiling, “So, it’s nice, right? I mean, I know it’s just a word… But it still feels nice.”

Ace doesn’t speak. He drops his head, clenching his teeth as he fights off tears. Marco walks over, kneeling before him. You sigh, stepping closer to the two.

“What’s the deal? Are you really gonna keep on doing this even after he spared your life? You can’t keep this up.”

Your voice is quiet and gentle, making Ace’s shoulders tense, “Hate to break it to ya, but you’re not strong enough to kill him.”

“You can either get off this ship and start over,” Marco sighs, “or you can stay here and wear the mark of Whitebeard on your back.”

From that night on, Ace changed. He was a bubbly, fiery spirit. You ended up learning more about him and becoming closer. He had this kid brother he was so insanely proud of. Luffy. He was strong and ruthless, all with a smile on his face.

Eventually, Ace was granted the title of Commander over the second division. The party and feast prepared for the night he accepted was magnificent, courtesy of Thatch and his division. Into the night, while everyone danced and drank, you got a moment alone with Ace.

“Congrats, Fire Fist,” you bump his hip with yours.

“Thanks, princess,” he chuckles, leaning back against the rail while your elbows rest on it.

“Think you can handle it?” You glance up at him, watching the way his head tilts to look at you.

“I can handle anything.” He smiles, his arms folded against his chest.

Your eyes roll, smiling as you let your eyes drift back to the sea, “Always so cocky.”

“Nah,” Ace chuckles quietly, still staring at you all googly-eyed. “Maybe I just wanna impress ya.”

“And if I told you that you do?” You prop your chin on your palm, looking over at him.

“I’d…” Ace’s cheeks grow warm, a pink hue dusting his skin. “I’d ask you out. Duh.”

“Hm, cute.”

You laugh under your breath. He was the most attractive man you’d ever seen on these seas, but that didn’t say much.

Most people you’d witnessed were old pirates and gross. You know, scurvy and whatnot. Guess they’d gotten tired of taking pride in more than their strength and egos.

The townies you met were just stuck to their islands. Families married with kids who always wanted to play with you, begging you to tell them all about your adventures. The people around your age were just scared because you were a part of the most infamous crew. Adults of the town were just as wary, not even wanting the town’s kids to look at a criminal.

And you? You wanted your own son or daughter one day. You wanted your own family just like your pops wanted all those years ago. Well, now you did anyway. You used to hate the families of the islands, their children a bunch of bullies when you’d come to town. They’d run with their tails tucked when your dad’s crew would come along, scaring them away.

“Don’t worry, kid! We’ll play whatever games ya want back on the ship!”

“Yeah, Y/N! We’re way cooler than those little brats!”

You didn’t let them know how much it actually hurt though. You were…all alone. No kids to hang out with, no mom to hold you and tell you it was okay, no sense of childhood endeavors. Just…a kid having to keep it a secret that her dad was truly her blood. Eventually, you gave up and trained with everyone else.

You trained until you couldn’t take it. Sometimes wiping you out for days at a time.

When Ace came along, you finally had someone your age. Someone who made you feel like you could breathe. Like you could be free.

That only made it so much worse when Ace left in search of Marshall D Teach. And you took it even harder when he was captured by the government and set to be executed at Marineford. But everyone banded together and your father had come through. You finally met Luffy and swore that you’d kill anyone who dared get in your way to help Ace. Luffy definitely took a liking to you for that.

Even more so when Ace was rescued rather than killed. You fought yourself into a coma before you could see his freedom though. For weeks, Ace was a wreck. Beaten and bruised, he stayed at your side, desperate for you to wake up.

After sixty-seven days, your hand twitched around his fingers, clenching. He nearly passed out from the excitement, burying his face in your stomach as he sobbed. Something in you realized it was time to finally give in to his antics. To stop teasing and dragging him along.

“I love you, Ace.”

Those were the first words you croaked, throat dry and sore.

“What?”

“I love you.”

A loud thud hit the floor, making the door burst open. Marco was right there, panic wide in his eyes. He looked at you, mouth hanging open, and then at Ace laying on the floor.

“What the fuck happened?” Marco pointed to the male groaning on the ground.

“He fainted,” you wince as you speak, reaching for the glass pitcher on the nightstand.

“You’re awake…” Marco breathes out, walking over to you.

Marco called in a nurse, getting her to check on your vitals. Meanwhile, he helped Ace back into a chair, making sure his bandages weren’t off of his healing wounds. You watched Ace, watching him rub his head. His hat… His necklace… They were gone… You didn’t like that. His signature looks stolen by the war raging on. It wasn’t even close to over.

“Is…is Luffy okay?” You ask quietly, brows pinched in worry.

“He’s okay. Little brat is more resilient than anything,” Ace smiles softly, looking over at you.

Marco grinned, “Runs in the family, huh?”

You relax, finally getting cleared by the nurse. She gave Ace a quick once over before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her. You dip your toes to the floor, finding your footing. Ace got up quickly as you stood, clearing the path with two steps. His arms find their way around you, holding you close.

“My girl,” he breathes against your hair. “My pretty girl. Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again. Ya hear me?”

“I hear you,” you laugh against his chest, wrapping your arms around him weakly.

Eventually, the night falls, leaving you and Ace encased in the dark room. He cradles you almost all night, playing with the ends of your hair. You trace little patterns against his chest softly, listening to his breathing even out.

“I love you,” Ace says quietly and you hear his heartbeat speed up in his chest.

“I love you more,” you smile, moving to look at him.

The moonlight casts a soft glow across his bruised face, softening his features under the gentle light. He seems so peaceful even if only for a night. You find yourself hoping for this to last forever.

“I’m sorry…about your dad,” he brushes a strand from your face, frowning softly.

“He didn’t die in vain,” you whisper, swallowing thickly.

“He was your real dad though,” Ace murmurs, finally having learned about the bloodline.

“All those years… He taught me family is more than just blood,” your hand reaches up, brushing through his hair. “He loved us all more than anything.”

“I love you more than anything.”

His voice, quiet and timid, trembles ever so slightly. He meant it with all of his heart. Ace had nearly lost you, terrified half to death on that battlefield. Too much had already been lost in his life. You? He wasn’t letting go without all hell breaking loose.

“I want to live.”

Those words send a bone-chilling ache throughout your entire being, eyes widening.

“You mean it?”

“I do.”

“...I’ll hold you to that, you know. I won’t ever let you die.”

“Promise?”

His grin makes you roll your eyes, swatting at him softly. Ace can’t stop the laugh that slips past his lips and grabs your wrist to press a swift kiss to your palm. The kisses don’t stop, continuing along your arm until he reaches all the way to your jaw. He hesitates, breathing heavily against your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Ace breathes out, screwing his eyes shut.

“Mhm?” You murmur, head tilted back.

“Can I kiss you?” His teeth scrape softly against your skin, desperate and fighting the urge to capture your lips without permission.

“I could never say no to you, could I?” You murmur, reaching under his chin to tilt his head.

Your lips meet, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. He straddles you, cupping your face like he couldn’t get enough. The kiss turned from something innocent and sweet to carnal and desperate. You claw at his shoulders, noises escaping you as your thighs tighten.

“Ace, please,” you mumble against his lips.

Ace grins against you, pulling away for a moment, “I’ll never get tired of your voice, you know that?”

“Don’t start being all cute,” you murmur, looking up at him.

“I can’t help it,” he pecks your lips through a laugh. “It’s just natural.”

“You’re so lame,” you grin, pulling him back to you.

Deeper into the night, he took his time with you, slow and patient. Ace pressed against you after his movements slowed, growing uneven from his rhythm. You were in tears, sweat coating the both of you when you felt something drip onto your cheek.

He hovered over you, panting. You weren’t expecting to see tears in his eyes.

“Ace? What’s wrong?” You rasp, reaching to cup his face.

“I didn’t think…” He sniffles, looking down at you, “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to be with you. I was so scared…”

“You don’t think I’d go out so easily, huh?” You smile, wiping his tears.

“I wouldn’t let you,” he leans down, resting his forehead against yours.

What would he do without you? His pretty girl. His other half. Thinking about it was the last thing he needed at this moment. He couldn’t let your first time go to waste now, could he?

Ace pressed a kiss to your dampened skin, rolling his hips against yours. Your breath hitched at the contact. Goddamn, he loved this side of you. One that belonged to him and him alone. How could he ever let you go?

Once he graced that weak spot that blew stars behind your eyes, he repeated it over and over and over. With half-lidded eyes, he watched your reactions to keep his movements in rhythm, careful and methodical.

But at this rate, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with the way your walls were squeezing the life out of him.

“A-Ace, I-”

“I know,” he grunts, his teeth sinking into your shoulder.

Your legs found their way around his hips, locking at your ankles. Your teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulder, somehow keeping you tethered to the earth. His hips stutter again with a grunt before he…

“F-fuck!” Ace buries his face into the crook of your neck, hands grasping at your plush hips.

It wasn’t immediately obvious to you, but he buried himself so deep within you that you didn’t stand a chance to avoid this new future. You blinked, panting as he collapsed on top of you.

“Did you…”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs tiredly against your skin, taking the time to catch his breath. “Promise I’ll make it up to ya.”

And you, poor thing, were so exhausted that you didn’t give a damn about any repercussions that might come of this. You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his temple before passing out.

Several years later

“Uncle Luffy!”

“Rouge!”

“Rouge! Don’t run off like that!”

Your sweet little girl giggled as her uncle snatched her up, spinning her. You shake your head, smiling at their antics. Ace stuck by your side, arm always wrapped around you as the two of you walk over to the Strawhat crew.

“She gets that from you, you know,” you nudge Ace’s side.

He grins, ruffling your hair, “Yeah, yeah, so she’s a little rebellious. You sayin’ you weren’t a troublemaker back in the day?”

“Not what I’m saying,” you roll your eyes but still can’t help the smile ghosting your lips. “I’m saying that neither of you listen.”

“Just wait,” he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “she’ll give that damn government a run for their money.”

Rouge gets all the attention from her ‘aunts and uncles,’ telling them all about your last little trip to Sphinx. You take your time, greeting everyone almost in tears. It felt far too long since the last time you saw everyone. Since you saw your family.

“Can’t believe you’re already three! You’re growing up so fast, Rouge!” Nami squished her cheek just as Sanji was bringing out a cake, decorated with pink hibiscus flowers.

“Happy birthday, Rouge!”

Ace held you from behind, chin resting atop your head. He thought back to all those years ago, to the battlefield where he nearly lost you and himself in the process. His sweet girls, safe and sound once again… He wouldn’t trade this for the world. Not now, not ever.

author's note ༄ sorry, gotta yap more rq! uh idk why i added in that tidbit about it being 'secret' you were the blood daughter of whitebeard and am now realizing that was probably dumb LMAO

dividers used: sister-lucifer. cafekitsune. anitalenia.

op masterlist

[aria-bun]

I love you like the ashes in my cigarette box

Jon and Basira clean out Tim's stuff Read on ao3!

Jon stared at the three desks, all of them deserted.

Belonging to Sasha, Tim, and Martin.

Sasha’s had been cleaned out, and Martin’s space was empty, Jon assumed that he had moved it when he started working with Peter Lukas.

Tim’s, however, was the same as it was before they left—untouched, except for a thin layer of dust coating it.

“It would’ve been cleaned out months ago, but I figured you’d want to be here for it,” Basira said, adjusting her headscarf with one hand. “And Martin, but I have a feeling we won’t be able to get him to help.”

“Right.” He nodded, glancing at her before looking back at the desk. The area was messy, with the cup of pencils knocked over, a cardboard box under the desk, and several pieces of scrap paper scattered around.

While Basira started with the Back To The Future poster hanging by his desk, Jon pulled the cardboard box from under it.

It was filled with knicknacks from office functions, probably from when he was in Research; A mug that read “Worlds Okayest Bisexual” on the side, a half-empty box of paper clips (several of which were bent into weird shapes), more pencils, and a tape recorder.

The recorder threw Jon off. Tim hated tape recorders. It didn’t look like any of the ones from the Institute, either. This one seemed newer, and a bit smaller than the ones that kept appearing around the Archives.

He pressed the Eject button, and it opened, showing the tape inside.

“Basira?” He looked over at her. “There’s a tape in here.”

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “Tim hated the tapes though.”

“I know.” He stood, using the desk for leverage, recorder in hand.

“...That one’s not from the Institute.”

“It isn’t,” Jon confirmed.

“...Should we listen to it?” Basira asked, rolling up the poster.

He paused for a moment, looking back at the tape recorder. “I… I think so. Tim didn’t do statements, so this might be one of the few things we have here with his voice on it.”

She blew out a breath. “Alright, just- Let’s finish this first.”

——————————————————————

Jon and Basira sat in the Archives, the tape recorder sitting on the table in front of them. 

It’d been sitting there for ten minutes, and neither of them had touched it.

“...What are you guys doing?” Melanie’s voice came from behind them, irritated. “Is that another damn tape recorder? What, are they deciding to mix up the looks?”

He shook his head. “No. This was Tim’s.”

“Why the hell would he have a tape recorder?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We were going to listen.” Barisa’s gaze stayed on the recorder.

“Then don’t mind if I do.” Melanie pulled out a chair and sat down at the table next to Basira.

The three of them sat there for a few more minutes, nobody moving to turn it on.

“...Is anyone going to actually turn it on?” Melanie looked between the two of them.

Jon wanted to. He just had a feeling that whatever was on the tape wasn’t something any of them were going to like.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Barisa let out a breath before pressing PLAY on the recorder.

“Hey, Sasha…” Tim’s voice crackled from the recording. It sounded like he was crying. “Um… I got you a-a Cronut. I know you… can’t eat it anymore but… but I’ll eat it for you.” A shuddering breath filled the recording. “I’m so damn sorry I… I just thought you finally…”

Another shuddering breath. “-getting tired of me or something last year. I didn’t know you were already gone. I’m-” The recording went quiet for a moment, before picking back up. “I’m gonna have to change my catchphrase now, y’know?” He said with a small laugh. It was a sad laugh, on the border of a sob. “Um… “Hello. My name’s… Timothy Stoker… You killed my brother and my best friend… prepare to die.” Tim’s voice broke off again.

“I don’t even know if you like Cronuts, or if that’s just something that… that thing put in my head. I’m not sure of anything in my mind anymore, I guess.” There was a small squeak, sounding like a desk chair. “I have your spare glasses still, I think. They don’t belong to Martin or boss, and the… Not you, I guess that’s what it’s called, didn’t have any.” He exhaled shakily. “I don’t- I don’t know what to do, Sash. About any of this fucking mess. I think if you were the one here, you… you’d know what to do.” A small silence filled the air. “Bye, Sasha.”

The recorder clicked off, the recording on the tape finished.

A thick silence filled the Archive, the only noise being an electric buzz from the overhead lights.

“...Wow.” Barisa put her hands flat on the table as if to stabilize herself. “I-uh- I didn’t know they were so close.”

“Yeah. Tim and Sasha… Well, they were inseparable.” Jon cleared his throat. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t missed Tim’s voice and wished the recording hadn’t been of him grieving.

He also, selfishly, wished he could have gotten Tim to forgive him before he died.

“I think she did like Cronuts,” Melanie said after a moment. “I only met her once before the whole… thing happened, but I remember seeing one on a napkin on her desk.”

The three of them fell back into a gut-wrenching silence, still looking at the tape recorder sitting on the table.

[valentine-cafe]

I saw that one post a couple days ago and wanted to say something but I hadn't got around to it

I genuinely really really love all the work you two put out. you're probably one of my favorite (if not the top favorite) blog I follow on Tumblr. I really haven't seen a blog who does reader inserts which are so inclusive, like you guys literally will do it all, and do it well. and!!! your characters!!! I could go on all day bc holy shit I don't know how you can juggle all of them, plus make more, have them all be so detailed and so obviously their own people. your creative abilities are utterly insane and y'all are truthfully a bit of an inspiration- all of your works are really immaculate and detailed and hhhhhhhhhh you get the point.

on another note, please don't overwork yourselves for us readers sake. seeing how much writing and sometimes art is put out through the week is amazing but good god I know writing that much takes a toll eventually 😭😭 take care of yourselves and take breaks if you need to, I'm sure all of us would understand.

overall I appreciate y'all and your work, and thought I should say something abt that :3

﹙ 🍒. ﹚─── oh lucien thank you so so much for all of this 🥺 it really means a lot to us. especially coming from someone like you - you've been with us since day one ! we're so happy that you're still around and that we still interact and just everything. this entire year on the blog has been so wonderful, we're really grateful for you continued support

it's also really lovely to hear that we're an inspiration. as we've said sooo many times, it's one of our main goals. to inspire and give hope. howl and I are just two people that love creating and our world, the characters. we love them so much and we're so happy that others appreciate them too 🩷

we will definitely take it easy ! we've gotten better at it over time. it's a bit easier because there's two of us, and we usually only write on a saturday. whereas we draw while we're working and discussing on the books ! but thank you so much for your concern, we'll be sure to remember your words <3

we can't wait to continue this journey with all of you, and new people to come! this is honestly a dream come true. please take care of yourself and stay safe, make sure you hydrate, eat, take meds if needed / when you can and all in all just spoil yourself because you deserve it 🥺🩷

[rafesangelita]

♡ dilf!rafe loves to make his pretty bunny squirm..

warnings: use of the name ‘daddy’ (scroll if that’s not your thing), vibrator + overstimulation, fingering, pussy slapping, oral (f. receiving), crying, dumbification (?), multiple orgasms, reader is restrained, praise, soft aftercare, fluff

“no more, no more, no more— r-rafe!” you squealed, your eyes screwing shut as the man between your legs turned up the setting of the pink vibrator currently pressed against your poor, overstimulated clit. “shhh, you could keep going..” he reassured you, using his free hand to stroke your soft skin. the searing pleasure alone made you cry out, the overwhelming feeling building up in the pit of your tummy. moving your hips away from the buzzing device was deemed useless as your restraints kept you in place, your wrists and ankles sore from all of the tension.

rafe watched the way your body trembled beneath him, your eyes basically sparkling up at him as tear drops rollled down your cheeks. “tell daddy what’s going on in that empty fuckin’ head of yours.” he cupped your face, squeezing your cheeks together as you whimpered. he knew you didn’t have a single thought, your ability to think or speak a coherent sentence had since been long gone. “i asked you a question.” his voice reverberated in your ears, your eyebrows pinching together as you struggled to answer him. “w-want your fingers, please!” you sobbed, feeling empty despite having came four times already.

switching off the bunny vibrator, rafe shushed you as you gasped in relief, your chest rising and falling as you fought to catch a full breath. “you’re so pretty like this,” he cupped your tits, rolling the sensitive buds between his fingers, “i love watching you turn into a desperate, brainless slut.” trailing a hand down between your legs, rafe ran a single digit up your folds, his jaw clenching as he felt just how soaked you were. watching your face carefully, rafe waited until he saw your eyelashes flutter closed before delivering a harsh smack to your cunt, a choked sob sounding out from you at the painful yet pleasurable sensation.

you didn’t have time to register what he had done before you felt his head dip between your thighs, his lips pressing open mouthed kisses along your skin. feeling his gentle ministrations allowed you to relax for the first time in an hour, your neck craning as you looked down and met rafe’s dark gaze. watching as he brought his hand up, you melted when you felt the delicious stretch of his digits, your eyes screwing shut once he curled them and hit that soft spot inside of you. clenching around the welcomed intrusion that was his fingers, rafe pressed a kiss to your folds before his tongue delved in between.

he groaned at the taste of you. “you’re so fuckin’ sweet,” rafe contined circling your clit, his cock straining painfully against the material of his pants, “just give me one more, babygirl.” he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his mouth so you couldn’t even attempt to move away from him. “oh, god..” you whimpered, wishing you could reach down and hold onto rafe’s hand while he made you lose yourself once again. you felt pure unadulterated pleasure lick your insides, the jolting euphoric feeling shooting through your body as your heart started beating in your ears.

for rafe nothing was more gratifying than seeing the way you writhed underneath him, your glossy lips pulled tightly between your teeth as you moaned. holding you with a death grip, it wasn’t until he heard you mutter a ‘gentle, please..’ before he let go and rubbed soothing circles into your side. you looked absolutely spent. with your eyes shutting in and out of consciousness and your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, rafe decided to give you one more kiss before undoing your restraints, your limbs falling like dead weight.

taking a seat against the headboard, rafe pulled you between his legs where he started leaving gentle kisses to your wrists, the raw skin already feeling better with his lips there. “hurts..” you whispered, burying your face in his chest as he hummed. “i know,” rafe spoke quietly, “you took it so good, ‘pretty, you know what that calls for?” he pulled your fluffy robe from where it sat on a nearby chair before covering you with it. “your credit card?” rafe laughed, thumbing your chin before pecking your lips.

[pucksandpower]

Little Star

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Summary: you’ve grown used to being overshadowed by your older brother, merely a distant star that seems dull in comparison to the sun of Maranello … and then Max happens

Based on this request

The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the paddock of the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. The air still buzzes with excitement from the day’s race, but behind the Ferrari hospitality unit, a different energy permeates the air.

You lean against the cool metal wall, sliding down until you’re sitting on the concrete, knees pulled to your chest. Tears stream silently down your face as you struggle to catch your breath between sobs. The sounds of celebration echo in the distance, a stark contrast to your solitude.

Footsteps approach, and you hastily wipe at your eyes, hoping to erase any evidence of your breakdown. A familiar figure rounds the corner, stopping short when he spots you.

“Hey,” Max Verstappen says, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you alright?”

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you insist, your voice wavering slightly. “Just ... needed some air.”

Max doesn’t buy it for a second. He crouches down beside you, his blue eyes searching your face. “You don’t look fine,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lip, debating whether to confide in him. After a moment, you sigh. “It’s stupid,” you mumble.

“If it’s making you cry, it’s not stupid,” Max counters. He settles down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Come on, talk to me.”

You take a shaky breath. “It’s my birthday,” you admit quietly.

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Today? Why aren’t you celebrating?”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Because everyone forgot,” you explain, fresh tears welling up. “Charles won the race, and ... I’m happy for him, I really am. But it’s like I don’t even exist when he’s around, you know?”

Max nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “That must be really tough,” he says softly.

You nod, sniffling. “I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, but today ... it just hit me harder, I guess. Even my mom forgot.”

“That’s not okay,” Max says firmly. “Your birthday should be special, no matter what else is happening.”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your jeans. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“No, it’s not fine,” Max insists. He stands up suddenly, determination etched on his face. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Before you can protest, he’s gone, jogging away towards the paddock. You’re left alone again, wondering what he’s up to.

True to his word, Max returns a few minutes later, slightly out of breath and holding something behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he instructs with a grin.

Curious, you comply. There’s a rustling sound, and then Max’s voice rings out, clear and slightly off-key: “Happy birthday to you ...”

Your eyes fly open in surprise. Max stands before you, holding a small cupcake with a single candle stuck in the frosting. His face is illuminated by the flickering flame as he continues to sing.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Y/N, happy birthday to you!”

Emotion wells up in your chest, a lump forming in your throat. “Max,” you whisper, overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He crouches down, carefully balancing the cupcake. “Of course I did,” he says softly. “Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. Now make a wish and blow out your candle.”

You close your eyes, thinking for a moment before leaning forward to extinguish the tiny flame. When you open them again, Max is beaming at you.

“What did you wish for?” He asks, settling back down beside you and offering you the cupcake.

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

Max laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Fair enough. So, twenty-two, huh? How does it feel to be so old?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help chuckling. “Says the guy who’s practically ancient at twenty-six.”

“Hey!” Max protests, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m in my prime.”

The banter feels natural, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time all day. You take a bite of the cupcake, savoring the sweetness. “This is really good,” you mumble around a mouthful of frosting. “Where did you even find it?”

Max grins mischievously. “I have my sources. Can’t reveal all my secrets, can I?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Thank you, Max. Really. This ... it means a lot.”

His expression softens. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry the rest of your family forgot. That’s not fair to you.”

You sigh, your momentary happiness fading slightly. “It’s not their fault. Charles had a big win today, and-”

“Stop,” Max interrupts gently. “You don’t have to make excuses for them. Your feelings are valid.”

You blink, surprised by his directness. “I ... I guess I’m just used to it,” you admit. “It’s always been about Charles. Even before he got into F1, he was the golden child. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes ...”

“Sometimes you want to be seen too,” Max finishes for you. You nod, grateful that he understands.

“Exactly. And it’s not just Charles. Arthur’s always been following in his footsteps, and Lorenzo ... well, he’s the oldest. I’m just ... there.”

Max frowns. “That’s not true. You’re your own person, with your own talents and dreams. Have you talked to them about how you feel?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to make them feel bad. Especially Charles. He works so hard, and he deserves his success.”

“His success doesn’t diminish your worth,” Max says firmly. “You deserve to be celebrated too.”

Tears prick at your eyes again, but for a different reason this time. “Thank you,” you whisper. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite like that before.”

Max smiles softly. “Well, it’s true. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks. “You barely know me,” you point out.

“I know enough,” Max counters. “I know you’re kind enough to put your family’s happiness before your own. I know you’re strong enough to handle being overlooked without becoming bitter. And I know you’ve got a great taste in cupcakes.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “Well, when you put it like that ...”

Max grins, clearly pleased to have made you smile. “So, birthday girl, what do you want to do now? The night is young, and I happen to know where they keep the good champagne around here.”

You hesitate, glancing towards the paddock where you can still hear the sounds of celebration. “I don’t know ... I should probably go find my family.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “On your birthday? Come on, live a little. They can wait.”

A spark of rebellion ignites in your chest. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it.”

Max jumps to his feet, offering you his hand. “That’s the spirit! First stop, champagne. Then, who knows? Maybe we’ll steal a golf cart and go joyriding around the track.”

You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Is that even allowed?”

Max’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Probably not. But it’s your birthday, so I think we can bend the rules a little.”

As you follow Max towards the paddock, a warmth spreads through your chest that has nothing to do with the lingering summer heat. For the first time in years, you feel seen. Appreciated. Special.

“Hey, Max?” You say, causing him to pause and look back at you.

“Yeah?”

You smile, genuine and bright. “Thank you. For everything.”

Max’s expression softens. “Anytime,” he says softly. “Now come on, birthday girl. Let’s make this a night to remember.”

As you walk side by side into the fading light, you can’t help but feel that this birthday might just be the start of something new. Something exciting. Something uniquely yours.

And for once, you’re not thinking about Charles, or Arthur, or anyone else. You’re just thinking about you, and the possibilities that stretch out before you like an open road.

Happy birthday indeed.

***

The Ferrari hospitality suite thrums with energy, laughter and music spilling out into the warm Italian night. Charles Leclerc stands at the center of it all, a wide grin plastered across his face as he basks in the glow of his hard-fought victory. Champagne flows freely, and the air is thick with the scent of celebration.

“To Charles!” Someone shouts, raising a glass. The room erupts in cheers, and Charles feels a swell of pride in his chest.

“Speech! Speech!” The crowd chants, and Charles laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, clearing his throat. “I just want to say thank you to everyone here. This win ... it’s not just mine. It’s ours. The team, the mechanics, the engineers, the strategists ... we did this together.”

More cheers erupt, and Charles feels a hand clap him on the back. He turns to see his teammate grinning broadly.

“Well said, amigo,” Carlos says, slinging an arm around Charles’ shoulders. “You drove like a champion today.”

Charles beams, the praise from his teammate adding to the euphoria of the moment. “Thanks, Carlos. Couldn’t have done it without you pushing me.”

Carlos laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “Always happy to provide motivation. Oh, hey, before I forget — can you pass on my birthday wishes to Y/N? I meant to find her earlier, but things got a bit crazy.”

The words hit Charles like a bucket of ice water. His smile freezes, his eyes widening in horror. “W-what?” He stammers, hoping he’s misheard.

Carlos frowns, noticing the sudden change in Charles’ demeanor. “Your sister? It’s her birthday today, right? Her 22nd?”

Charles feels the room spin around him. How could he have forgotten? His little sister’s birthday, on the same day as his big win. The realization crashes over him in waves of guilt and shame.

“Charles?” Carlos prompts, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, mate?”

Charles shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of shock. “I ... I forgot,” he whispers, more to himself than to Carlos. “How could I forget?”

Carlos’ eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, shit,” he mutters. “You didn’t remember?”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, panic rising in his chest. “I was so focused on the race, and then the win ... God, I’m such an idiot.”

He scans the room frantically, hoping against hope that he’ll spot you among the partygoers. But of course, you’re not there. Why would you be, when your own family forgot your birthday?

“I need to find her,” Charles says, already moving towards the exit. “I need to apologize.”

Carlos nods, squeezing Charles’ shoulder supportively. “Go. I’ll cover for you here if anyone asks.”

Charles barely hears him, his mind racing as he pushes through the crowd. He bursts out of the hospitality suite, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy interior.

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice echoing in the near-empty paddock. But there’s no response.

Panic rising, Charles pulls out his phone, fumbling with the screen as he opens his contacts. He hits your name, holding the phone to his ear as it rings.

Once. Twice. Three times. Then, your voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”

Charles swears under his breath, ending the call. He tries again, and again, but each time it goes straight to voicemail.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters, pacing back and forth. Where could you be? Who would you have gone to when your family let you down?

A thought strikes him, and he quickly dials another number.

“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.

“Arthur!” Charles practically shouts. “Is Y/N with you?”

There’s a pause, then confusion in Arthur’s tone. “No? Why would she be? Aren’t you guys celebrating?”

Charles feels his heart sink even further. “Arthur, it’s her birthday. We forgot.”

“Shit,” Arthur breathes. “How did we ... God, we’re terrible brothers.”

“I know, I know,” Charles says, the guilt eating away at him. “I’m trying to find her now. Can you call Maman and Lorenzo, see if they’ve heard from her?”

“Yeah, of course,” Arthur agrees quickly. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”

Charles ends the call, his mind whirling. Where else could you be? He tries to think back to earlier in the day, wondering if he’d seen you at all after the race. But everything is a blur of champagne and celebration, and he realizes with a sickening jolt that he can’t remember the last time he actually spoke to you.

He’s about to start knocking on motorhome doors when another idea strikes him. Quickly, he opens the Life360 app on his phone. The family had started using it a few years back, mainly to keep track of each other during race weekends.

Charles waits impatiently for the app to load, praying that it will show your location. But when the map finally appears, his heart sinks. Your icon is greyed out, with a message underneath: “Location permissions turned off.”

“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, refreshing the app desperately. But the result is the same. You’ve deliberately turned off your location tracking.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. You didn’t just disappear — you chose to be unfindable. And it’s all his fault.

Charles slumps against the nearest wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground. He puts his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his mistake.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers into the night. “I’m so, so sorry.”

As he sits there, memories flood his mind. Your proud smile when he won his first karting race. The way you’d curl up next to him during thunderstorms, seeking comfort. Your unwavering support through every step of his career, even when it meant less attention for you.

And how had he repaid that loyalty? By forgetting the one day that was supposed to be about you.

Charles’ phone buzzes, and he snatches it up eagerly. But it’s just a text from his mother:

Haven’t heard from Y/N. Is everything okay?

He stares at the message, unsure how to respond. How can he explain that he’s lost his little sister on her birthday?

Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:

No luck here either. What’s going on?

Charles takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He has to tell them the truth, no matter how much it hurts.

He creates a group chat with his mom, Lorenzo, and Arthur, his fingers shaking slightly as he types:

We forgot Y/N’s birthday. All of us. She’s not answering her phone and her location is turned off. I can’t find her anywhere.

The responses come in rapid succession:

Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?

Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?

Arthur: I’m on my way to the track now. We’ll find her.

Charles feels a mix of relief and shame. At least now everyone knows, and they can all work together to make things right. But the fact remains that they let you down in the first place.

He’s about to reply when he spots a familiar figure walking across the paddock. Max Verstappen, looking slightly disheveled and ... was that a touch of glitter on his cheek?

Without thinking, Charles jumps to his feet and runs over to his rival.

“Max!” He calls out, slightly out of breath. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Max turns, surprise evident on his face. Then, something else flickers in his eyes. Anger? Disappointment? It’s gone too quickly for Charles to be sure.

“Why?” Max asks, his tone cooler than usual. “Suddenly remembered she exists?”

The words sting, but Charles knows he deserves them. “Please, Max. I know I messed up. We all did. But I need to find her, to apologize.”

Max studies him for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he sighs. “She’s safe. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Relief washes over Charles, quickly followed by confusion. “You’ve seen her? Where is she?”

“I’m not telling you that,” Max says firmly. “She needed space, and after what happened, I don’t blame her.”

Charles feels a flare of frustration. “She’s my sister. I have a right to know where she is.”

“No,” Max counters, his blue eyes flashing. “You had a responsibility to remember her birthday. You didn’t. So now, you don’t get to demand anything.”

The words hit Charles like a slap. He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. Max is right, as much as it pains him to admit it.

“Is she ... is she okay?” Charles asks quietly, all fight leaving him.

Max’s expression softens slightly. “She will be. Eventually. But Charles, you really hurt her. All of you did.”

Charles nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I know. God, I know. I just want to make it right.”

“Then give her time,” Max advises. “And when she’s ready to talk, really listen to her. Don’t make excuses. Don’t try to justify it. Just listen.”

Charles nods again, feeling utterly defeated. “Will you ... will you tell her I’m sorry? That we’re all sorry?”

Max hesitates, then nods. “I will. But Charles? You need to do better. She deserves better.”

With that, Max turns and walks away, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and regrets.

Charles pulls out his phone again, looking at the group chat with his family. He types out a message, his heart heavy:

Y/N is safe. A friend is looking out for her. We need to give her space, but when she’s ready to talk, we all need to be there. Really be there. We’ve got a lot to make up for.

As he hits send, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll do better. He’ll be the brother you deserve. And somehow, someway, he’ll make this right.

But for now, all he can do is wait, and hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive them all.

***

The city lights twinkle below as Max leads you into his penthouse suite, the door clicking shut behind you. The space is modern and sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of Milan’s skyline.

“Make yourself at home,” Max says, gesturing around the room. “Are you hungry? I can order some room service if you want.”

You shake your head, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by the events of the day. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Max nods, studying your face with concern. “You sure? It’s been a long day.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that again.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Max clears his throat. “So, um, you can take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

“Oh, no,” you protest immediately. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Absolutely not. It’s your birthday. You get the bed.”

You bite your lip, an idea forming. “We could ... share? I mean, if that’s okay with you. The bed looks plenty big enough.”

Max’s eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure,” you say, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Unless it makes you uncomfortable?”

“No, no,” Max says quickly. “I’m fine with it if you are.”

You nod, and another silence falls. Max runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly unsure of himself.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he suggests. “Or we could just talk, if you prefer.”

“Talking sounds nice,” you admit. “I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”

Max nods, gesturing towards the bed. “Shall we?”

You both settle onto the massive king-size bed, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. It’s oddly intimate, and you feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“So,” Max begins, his blue eyes fixed on you. “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t related to racing or your family.”

You pause, caught off guard by the question. It’s been so long since someone asked about you, just you.

“Well,” you start hesitantly, “I’m actually studying to become an astrophysicist.”

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? That’s incredible! Why astrophysics?”

The enthusiasm in his voice makes you smile. “I’ve always been fascinated by space, you know? The idea that there’s so much out there we don’t understand ... it’s exciting.”

“That’s amazing,” Max says, genuinely impressed. “What kind of stuff are you studying right now?”

You laugh softly. “Are you sure you want to know? I might bore you with all the technical details.”

Max leans forward, his expression earnest. “Try me. I want to hear all about it.”

Encouraged by his interest, you begin to explain your current research project. As you talk, your hands move animatedly, your eyes lighting up with passion. Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.

“... and that’s why understanding dark matter is so crucial,” you finish, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I kind of went off on a tangent there.”

Max shakes his head, smiling warmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s fascinating. I had no idea you were into all this. Why haven’t I heard about it before?”

Your smile falters slightly. “Oh, well ... it doesn’t really come up much. Everyone’s usually more interested in talking about racing.”

Max frowns. “But this is incredible. You’re studying to unravel the mysteries of the universe. That’s way cooler than driving in circles.”

You laugh, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Try telling that to my family. I think they see it as more of a hobby than a career path.”

“What?” Max looks genuinely shocked. “How can they not be incredibly proud? This is huge!”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “I guess it’s just not as exciting as F1? It’s okay, though. I’m used to it.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No, it’s not okay. Y/N, you’re brilliant. Your family should be shouting it from the rooftops.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them back hastily. “Thanks, Max. That ... that means a lot.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over yours. “I mean it. And for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is incredible.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there, an understanding that makes your heart skip a beat. Without really thinking about it, you shift closer to him.

Max seems to take this as an invitation, because he moves closer too. Soon, you’re sitting side by side, your shoulders touching.

“So,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “What about you? Any secret passions outside of racing?”

Max chuckles. “Nothing as impressive as astrophysics, I’m afraid. But I do enjoy sim racing in my spare time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that just more racing?”

“Hey, it’s completely different,” Max protests with a grin. “In sim racing, I can drive any car on any track. Even ones that don’t exist in real life.”

“Okay, okay,” you concede, laughing. “Tell me more about it.”

As Max launches into an explanation of his favorite sim racing setups, you find yourself relaxing more and more. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and playful debates.

Without really noticing, you both shift positions throughout the night. Max leans back against the headboard, and you mirror him. Your shoulders are pressed together, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“... and that’s why I think pineapple absolutely belongs on pizza,” Max finishes, looking at you expectantly.

You shake your head, grinning. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a world champion. Your taste buds clearly can’t be trusted.”

“Oh, come on,” Max laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“I have tried it,” you insist. “It’s an abomination.”

Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Y/N. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

The word ‘friends’ sends an odd pang through your chest. Is that what this is? It feels like more, somehow.

As if reading your thoughts, Max’s expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so gentle, so intimate, that it takes your breath away.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing. “Me too,” you whisper.

There’s a moment of charged silence, and then Max is leaning in. You meet him halfway, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.

It’s brief, just a fleeting press of lips, but it sends sparks shooting through your entire body. When you pull back, Max is looking at you with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.

“Was that okay?” He asks, his voice husky.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Instead, you lean in again, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more assured. Max’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you melt into his touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he admits.

You laugh softly. “Even when I was insulting your pizza preferences?”

“Especially then,” Max grins. “You’re cute when you’re indignant.”

You swat at his arm playfully, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. For the first time all day, you feel truly happy.

As the night wears on, you and Max continue to talk, trading stories and stealing kisses. Gradually, your positions shift again. Max lies down, and you curl up against his side, your head resting on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you close.

“Y/N?” Max says softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

“Hmm?” you mumble, feeling drowsy and content.

“Happy birthday,” he says. “I know it didn’t start out great, but I hope it got better.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “It did,” you assure him. “Thanks to you.”

Max kisses your forehead gently. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We can figure everything else out in the morning.”

As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in Max’s arms, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this birthday wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, it might just be the start of something wonderful.

***

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you feel a strong arm wrapped around your waist. For a moment, confusion sets in before the events of the previous night come rushing back.

You’re in Max Verstappen’s bed. And Max Verstappen is currently spooning you.

A smile tugs at your lips as you nestle back into his warmth, not quite ready to face the day. But fate, it seems, has other plans.

A sharp knock at the door jolts both of you awake. Max groans, burying his face in your hair.

“Room service?” You mumble, still half-asleep.

Max shakes his head, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Didn’t order any.”

The knock comes again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, Max untangles himself from you and slides out of bed.

“I’ll get it,” he says, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You stay here.”

You nod, pulling the covers up to your chin and watching as Max pads to the door in his t-shirt and sweatpants. He opens it a crack, peering out.

“Can I help you?” He asks, confusion evident in his tone.

There’s a muffled response, and then Max is stepping back, opening the door wider. A hotel staff member enters, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses.

“Delivery for Y/N Leclerc,” the staff member announces, looking around the room.

You sit up in bed, eyes wide. “That’s ... that’s me.”

The staff member nods, moving to set the bouquet on a nearby table. “Sign here, please,” he says, holding out a clipboard.

Still bewildered, you climb out of bed and make your way over, scrawling your signature on the form. The staff member thanks you and exits, leaving you and Max staring at the ostentatious display of flowers.

“Well,” Max says after a moment, “I guess your brother remembered after all.”

You let out a rueful laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I guess he did.”

Max frowns, noting the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “Aren’t you happy about it?”

You sigh, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals. “It’s just ... I’ve told Charles a hundred times that I don’t like roses. They’re not my favorite flower. But every time he needs to apologize or wants to do something nice, it’s always roses.”

“Oh,” Max says softly, understanding dawning on his face. “So it’s less about you and more about what he thinks you should like.”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Exactly. It’s like he doesn’t really listen, you know? He just does what he thinks is right without considering what I actually want.”

Max moves closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. “That must be frustrating,” he says gently.

You lean into him, grateful for the support. “It is. And I know I should be grateful. It’s a beautiful bouquet, and he’s trying. But ...”

“But it’s not what you want,” Max finishes for you. “And that matters.”

You look up at him, surprised by how well he understands. “Yeah, exactly.”

Max turns to face you fully, his blue eyes serious. “Y/N, listen to me. It’s okay to be upset about this. It’s okay to want your family to actually listen to you and consider your feelings.”

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill over. “But they’re trying now. Shouldn’t I just forgive them and move on?”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No. You don’t have to forgive them right away just because they made a grand gesture. It’s okay to make them work for your forgiveness.”

“Really?” You ask, your voice small.

“Really,” Max assures you. “They hurt you, Y/N. They forgot your birthday and made you feel invisible. One bouquet of flowers — flowers you don’t even like — doesn’t erase that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words. “So what do I do?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Well, what do you want to do? How do you feel?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not ready to see them yet. I know I’ll have to face them eventually, but right now ... I just can’t.”

“Then don’t,” Max says simply. “Take the time you need. They can wait.”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his words. “You don’t think that’s selfish?”

Max cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. “It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”

Tears spill over then, and Max pulls you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in his chest, letting out all the hurt and frustration you’ve been holding in.

“Shh,” Max soothes, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

After a few minutes, your sobs subside. You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I got your shirt all wet.”

Max chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think I’ll survive. Feel better?”

You nod, offering him a watery smile. “Yeah, actually. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Max says softly. Then, a mischievous glint enters his eye. “So, what should we do with the roses? I vote we throw them off the balcony and watch them scatter in the wind.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “As tempting as that is, I don’t think hotel management would appreciate it.”

Max shrugs, grinning. “Their loss. We could always donate them to a hospital or something. Brighten someone else’s day.”

“That’s ... actually a really good idea,” you say, impressed. “We could do that.”

Max beams, clearly pleased with himself. “See? I’m not just a pretty face and fast driver.”

You roll your eyes fondly, but can’t suppress your smile. “Careful, Verstappen. Your ego’s showing.”

“You love it,” he teases, pulling you close again.

As you stand there in his arms, surrounded by the cloying scent of roses you don’t even like, you’re struck by how safe you feel. How understood.

“Max?” You say softly.

“Hmm?”

You pull back slightly to meet his gaze. “Thank you. For everything. For making my birthday special, for listening to me, for ... just being here.”

Max’s expression softens, a tender smile playing at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I ... I care about you, Y/N. A lot.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I care about you too,” you admit.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Then, slowly, Max leans in. His lips meet yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your toes curl.

When you break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

“So,” he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What happens now?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not sure. This is all happening so fast, and with everything going on with my family ...”

Max nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow,” he assures you. “There’s no rush.”

Relief washes over you. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I do want this — us. I just need some time to figure everything out.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Max says, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “For now, how about we get some breakfast? I’m starving.”

You laugh, grateful for the shift in mood. “Breakfast sounds perfect. But maybe we should change first? I’m not sure I want to face the paparazzi in yesterday’s clothes.”

Max grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t know, I think you look pretty good in my t-shirt.”

You glance down, realizing for the first time that you’re indeed wearing one of Max’s shirts. A blush creeps up your cheeks. “When did that happen?”

“You got cold in the middle of the night,” Max explains, looking far too pleased with himself. “I offered you my shirt. You were very insistent that it was the most comfortable thing you’d ever worn.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god. Please tell me I didn’t say anything else embarrassing.”

Max laughs, gently prying your hands away from your face. “Nothing too bad. Though you did mention something about my waist being ‘unfairly perfect’. Your words, not mine.”

“Kill me now,” you mutter, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

Max pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Never. I’m rather fond of you, embarrassing sleep talk and all.”

As you stand there in Max’s arms, the morning sun warming your skin and the scent of roses filling the air, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope. Yes, there’s still a lot to figure out — with your family, with Max, with your future. But for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And that, you think, is the best birthday gift of all.

***

The private terminal of Milan Malpensa Airport buzzes with activity as the Leclerc family waits to board their chartered jet. Charles paces back and forth, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, eyes darting to the entrance every few seconds.

“Charles, honey, please sit down,” his mother, Pascale, says gently. “You’re making me nervous.”

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair for what must be the hundredth time. “I can’t, Maman. Where is she? She should be here by now.”

Lorenzo exchanges a worried glance with Arthur. “Maybe she got held up in traffic?” He suggests, though his tone lacks conviction.

“For three hours?” Charles snaps, immediately regretting his harsh tone. “Sorry, I just ... I’m worried.”

Arthur stands up, placing a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder. “We all are. But Y/N’s an adult. She can take care of herself.”

Charles lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know that. But after yesterday ... we really messed up.”

“We did,” Pascale agrees softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But we’ll make it right. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she ever shows up,” Charles mutters, resuming his pacing.

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow. Charles alternates between checking his phone and staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of you arriving. But the parking lot remains stubbornly devoid of your presence.

Finally, a staff member approaches the family. “Mr. Leclerc? The jet is ready for boarding. We need to depart soon to maintain our flight slot.”

Charles feels panic rising in his chest. “No, we can’t leave yet. My sister isn’t here.”

The staff member looks uncomfortable. “I understand, sir, but we have a schedule to keep. Perhaps your sister could take a commercial flight?”

“Absolutely not,” Charles says firmly. “We’re not leaving without her.”

Lorenzo steps in, ever the diplomat. “Is there any way we could delay for just a bit longer? It’s really important that we wait for our sister.”

The staff member hesitates, then nods. “I’ll see what I can do. But please understand, we can’t hold the slot indefinitely.”

As the employee walks away, Charles resumes his pacing with renewed vigor.

“This isn’t like her,” he mutters. “She wouldn’t just disappear without telling us.”

Arthur bites his lip, looking guilty. “Maybe ... maybe she’s still upset about yesterday?”

Charles stops in his tracks, turning to face his younger brother. “What do you mean?”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably. “Well, we did forget her birthday. And then when we remembered, we didn’t exactly handle it well. Those roses you sent? Y/N hates roses.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She ... what? No, she loves roses. I always get her roses.”

“Because you always get her roses,” Lorenzo chimes in, realization dawning on his face. “Not because she actually likes them.”

Charles slumps into a nearby chair, head in his hands. “How did I not know that? What kind of brother am I?”

Pascale moves to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve all made mistakes. But we can fix this. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she’ll even talk to us,” Charles mumbles.

Just then, his phone buzzes. Charles nearly drops it in his haste to check the notification, hope flaring in his chest. But it’s not from you.

“It’s Max,” he says, frowning in confusion.

“Verstappen?” Arthur asks, leaning over to peek at the screen. “What does he want?”

Charles opens the message, his eyes widening as he reads it aloud:

“Y/N is with me. She’s safe and we’re flying back to Monaco together. She needs some space right now. Give her time.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Charles reads and rereads the message, trying to process what it means.

“She’s with Max?” Lorenzo finally says, breaking the silence. “Since when are they even friends?”

Charles shakes his head, still staring at his phone. “I don’t know. I ... I saw him last night. He knew where she was, but I thought it was just a spontaneous thing.”

“Well, at least we know she’s safe,” Pascale says, always trying to find the silver lining. “That’s the most important thing.”

But Charles can’t shake the feeling of unease settling in his stomach. “Why didn’t she come to us? Why Max, of all people?”

Arthur places a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.

The words hit Charles like a physical blow. He knows Arthur is right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

“So what do we do now?” Lorenzo asks, looking around at his family.

Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. “We do what Max said. We give her time.”

“But for how long?” Pascale asks, worry evident in her voice. “She’s our little girl. We can’t just leave her alone.”

“She’s not alone, Maman,” Charles says, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “She’s with Max. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I think ... I think she might be better off with him right now.”

The family falls silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their collective mistake hangs heavy in the air.

Finally, Charles stands up, squaring his shoulders. “We should board the jet. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

As they gather their belongings and make their way to the plane, Charles can’t help but replay Max’s message in his head. You’re with Max. You’re safe. You need space.

He tries to imagine you and Max together, and finds that he can’t. What could have happened in the span of one day to bring you two together? And more importantly, what had driven you away from your own family?

As he settles into his seat on the jet, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll give you the space you need, but he won’t give up. He’ll find a way to make things right, to be the brother you deserve.

The jet takes off, carrying the Leclerc family back to Monaco. But for Charles, it feels like they’re leaving a piece of themselves behind in Milan. A piece that, he fears, might be harder to reclaim than he ever imagined.

Meanwhile, across the airport, you and Max are boarding his private jet. The contrast between the two scenes couldn’t be more stark.

“You okay?” Max asks softly as you settle into your seat.

You nod, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for ... well, everything.”

Max reaches over, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime. You know that.”

As the jet prepares for takeoff, you can’t help but think about your family. Are they worried? Angry? Do they even care?

“Max?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

You turn to look at him, vulnerability shining in your eyes. “Did I do the right thing? Leaving without talking to them?”

Max considers your question carefully before answering. “I think you did what you needed to do for yourself. And that’s never wrong.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension in your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “For understanding. For not pushing me to do what everyone else thinks I should do.”

Max smiles, a soft, genuine expression that makes your heart flutter. “That’s what ... friends are for, right?”

There’s a hesitation in his voice, a question in his eyes that makes you wonder if ‘friends’ is really the right word for what’s developing between you.

As the jet takes off, carrying you away from Milan and the chaos of the past day, you find yourself feeling something you haven’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for a future where you’re seen, heard, and valued for who you are.

And as you glance at Max, his profile illuminated by the setting sun streaming through the window, you can’t help but wonder if he might be a bigger part of that future than you ever imagined.

The jet climbs higher, leaving the ground and all its complications behind. For now, at least, you’re free. Free to breathe, to think, to feel without the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

You close your eyes, letting out a long breath. Whatever comes next, you know one thing for certain: things will never be the same again. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.

***

The sun is setting over Monaco, shining warmly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse apartment. You’re curled up on the plush sofa, a book in your lap, trying to lose yourself in the pages. But your mind keeps wandering, replaying the events of the past couple of days.

Max emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. “Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.

You smile gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma of hot chocolate. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, settling down beside you. “I wanted to. How’re you holding up?”

You’re about to answer when the doorbell rings. Max frowns, glancing at his watch. “I’m not expecting anyone. Are you?”

You shake your head, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. Could it be your family? Are they here to confront you?

Max squeezes your hand reassuringly before getting up to answer the door. You hear muffled voices, then the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

“Um, Y/N?” Max calls. “I think you might want to see this.”

Curiosity overcoming your apprehension, you make your way to the foyer. Your jaw drops at the sight that greets you.

The entire space is filled with bags. Not just any bags, but the kind that comes from the most exclusive boutiques in Monaco. Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel — the logos stare back at you from every direction.

“What ... what is all this?” You stammer, looking to Max for explanation.

He hands you a small envelope. “This came with it. It’s addressed to you.”

With trembling fingers, you open the envelope and unfold the note inside. You’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.

Y/N,

I know I messed up. We all did. I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday and for not being the brother you deserve. I hope these gifts can begin to make up for it. Please come home. We miss you.

Love,

Charles

You read the note twice, then a third time, disbelief turning to anger with each pass.

“He’s got to be kidding,” you mutter, crumpling the paper in your fist.

Max steps closer, concern etched on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “This,” you say, gesturing at the sea of designer bags, “is my brother’s idea of an apology. He thinks he can just ... buy me back with expensive gifts.”

Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “Ah. And I’m guessing that’s not going to work?”

“Not even close,” you say, shaking your head. “God, it’s like he doesn’t know me at all. I’m not one of his girlfriends who can be placated with a shopping spree.”

Max winces. “Ouch. Has he done this before?”

You nod, sinking down onto the nearest clear spot on the floor. “Every time he messes up with a girl, it’s the same routine. Flowers, jewelry, designer clothes. And it usually works, because the girls he dates ... well, they tend to be into that kind of thing.”

Max sits down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “But you’re not.”

“No,” you confirm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate nice things. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about him actually listening to me, actually seeing me as a person and not just ... his kid sister who can be bought off.”

Max is quiet for a moment, then says softly, “You know, it’s okay to be angry about this. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

His words break something open inside you. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. “I just ... I thought he knew me better than this. I thought they all did.”

Max wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You lean into him, letting the tears fall freely now.

“It’s like they don’t even see me,” you choke out between sobs. “They see this idea of who they think I should be, but not ... not who I actually am.”

Max rubs soothing circles on your back, letting you cry it out. When your sobs finally subside, he hands you a tissue.

“Feel better?” He asks gently.

You nod, wiping your eyes. “A little. Sorry for breaking down on you like that.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Don’t apologize. That’s what I’m here for.”

You offer him a watery smile, then turn back to survey the mountain of bags. “So ... what do I do with all this?”

Max considers for a moment. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You bite your lip, thinking. “Honestly? I want to send it all back. Show him that he can’t just throw money at the problem and expect it to go away.”

Max nods approvingly. “I think that’s a great idea. It sends a clear message.”

“You don’t think it’s too harsh?” You ask, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

“Not at all,” Max assures you. “You’re standing up for yourself, setting boundaries. That’s important.”

Emboldened by his support, you start rifling through the bags, curiosity getting the better of you. “I wonder what he even bought ... oh.”

You pull out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate tennis bracelet. The diamonds catch the light, sparkling brilliantly.

“Wow,” Max breathes, leaning in for a closer look. “That’s ... that’s something.”

You nod, mesmerized by the way the bracelet shimmers. “It’s beautiful,” you admit softly.

Max watches you carefully. “You like it,” he observes.

You sigh, closing the box with a snap. “It doesn’t matter. It’s going back with everything else.”

“Why?” Max asks, genuine curiosity in his voice. “If you like it, why not keep it?”

You look at him, surprised. “But ... I thought you said sending it all back was a good idea?”

Max shrugs. “It is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep one thing if it genuinely makes you happy. You’re allowed to like nice things, Y/N. That doesn’t invalidate your feelings about the situation.”

You turn the box over in your hands, considering. “I don’t know ... wouldn’t keeping anything send the wrong message?”

“I think,” Max says slowly, “that the message you send depends more on what you say than what you keep or don’t keep. If you like the bracelet, keep it. But make sure Charles understands that a pretty piece of jewelry doesn’t fix the underlying issues.”

You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”

As you start sorting through the bags, separating out what will be returned, you can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

You hold up the bracelet box. “I was just thinking ... it would be a shame to let something this pretty go to waste, right?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Absolutely. It’s practically your duty to keep it. For the sake of the bracelet, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree, giggling. “I’m being completely selfless here.”

As you continue to sort through the gifts, occasionally showing Max particularly outrageous items (“A fur coat? In Monaco?”), you feel a weight lifting from your shoulders. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, you feel like you’re taking control of the situation.

“You know,” you say, folding a designer dress back into its bag, “I think I need to have a real conversation with Charles. With all of them, really.”

Max nods encouragingly. “I think that’s a great idea. What do you want to say?”

You take a deep breath, organizing your thoughts. “I want them to understand that I’m my own person, with my own dreams and desires. That I need them to see me, really see me, not just as Charles Leclerc’s little sister or as an extension of the family name.”

“That sounds perfect,” Max says softly. “You deserve to be seen for who you are.”

You smile at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”

Max reaches out, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. But I’m glad I could help.”

As you sit there, surrounded by discarded luxury goods, your hand in Max’s, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. You know the road ahead won’t be easy — confronting your family, establishing new boundaries, figuring out exactly where you stand with Max — but for the first time in a long time, you feel ready to face it all.

You slip on the tennis bracelet, admiring the way it catches the light. It’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder that you’re worth more than grand gestures and expensive gifts. You’re worth being truly seen, truly heard, truly understood.

And as you look at Max, his blue eyes warm with understanding and something that might be more, you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.

***

The afternoon sun beats down on the streets of Monaco as Charles leans against his Ferrari, fidgeting nervously. He’s parked across from the International University of Monaco, his eyes fixed on the entrance. Students stream in and out, but none of them are the one he’s looking for.

He checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time. Your last class should be ending any minute now. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s rehearsed what he wants to say a thousand times, but now that the moment is approaching, all his carefully prepared words seem to evaporate.

A group of students emerges from the building, laughing and chatting. Charles straightens up, his eyes scanning the crowd. And then he sees you.

You’re walking with a couple of friends, your bag slung over your shoulder, a smile on your face. For a moment, Charles is struck by how ... normal you look. How at ease. It’s a stark contrast to the tense family dinners and stilted conversations of recent months.

Before he can second-guess himself, Charles pushes off from his car and starts walking towards you. He sees the exact moment you spot him — your smile falters, your steps slow.

“Y/N!” He calls out, waving awkwardly.

Your friends notice him too, their eyes widening in recognition. You say something to them that Charles can’t hear, and they nod, casting curious glances between you and your brother as they walk away.

Charles reaches you, stopping a few feet away, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Charles,” you reply, your voice carefully neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s never been able to shake. “I ... I wanted to talk to you. In person. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and I just ... I needed to see you.”

You sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I’ve been busy with classes. And I needed some space.”

“I know,” Charles says quickly. “I know, and I’m sorry for ambushing you like this. I just ... can we talk? Please?”

You glance around, noticing the curious stares from passing students. “Not here,” you say finally. “There’s a café around the corner. We can talk there.”

Charles nods eagerly, relief washing over him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

You lead the way to the café, a small, cozy place tucked away from the main streets. As you settle into a booth in the back, Charles can’t help but wonder how often you come here, how many parts of your life he knows nothing about.

A waitress approaches, and you order your usual — an iced latte with an extra shot. Charles fumbles with the menu before ordering a simple espresso.

An awkward silence falls over the table as you wait for your drinks. Charles fidgets with a napkin, trying to find the right words to begin.

“So,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”

Charles takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. For forgetting your birthday, for not being there for you, for ... for everything.”

You raise an eyebrow, your expression unreadable. “Is that it?”

Charles blinks, thrown off balance. “I ... what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “is that all you have to say? You’re sorry?”

Charles feels a flash of frustration. “What else do you want me to say? I messed up, I know that. I’m trying to make it right.”

The waitress returns with your drinks, and you take a long sip of your latte before responding. “Charles, this isn’t just about my birthday. This is about years of feeling invisible, of being overshadowed, of not being seen for who I am.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “What? Y/N, I ... I had no idea you felt that way.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s kind of the point, Charles. You didn’t know because you never asked. None of you did.”

Charles sits back, his mind reeling. “I ... I don’t understand. We’ve always been close. At least, I thought we were.”

“We were,” you agree softly. “When we were kids. But as you got more and more successful, it was like ... like I faded into the background. Everything became about you, about your career.”

Charles feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Y/N, I never meant for that to happen. I love you. You’re my little sister.”

“I know you love me,” you say, your voice gentler now. “But loving someone and seeing them are two different things.”

Charles nods slowly, realization dawning. “The gifts,” he says. “That’s why you sent them back. Because I was trying to fix things without actually understanding what was wrong.”

“Exactly,” you confirm. “Charles, I don’t need expensive clothes or jewelry. I need my brother. The one who used to listen to me ramble about constellations for hours, who’d sneak me extra dessert when Maman wasn’t looking.”

Charles reaches across the table, hesitating for a moment before taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “I want to be that brother again,” he says earnestly. “Tell me how. Please.”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Well, for starters, you could ask me about my life. My studies, my friends, my dreams. And actually listen to the answers.”

Charles nods eagerly. “Yes, of course. Tell me everything. What are you studying? How are your classes going?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m majoring in Astrophysics, remember? This semester I’m taking a course on Stellar Evolution that’s absolutely fascinating. We’re learning about the life cycles of stars, from their formation to their eventual death.”

As you continue talking, passion lighting up your eyes, Charles feels a mix of pride and shame wash over him. Pride in your intelligence and enthusiasm, shame that he’s missed out on so much of your life.

“That sounds incredible,” he says when you pause for breath. “I had no idea you were studying something so complex. You must be really good at it.”

You shrug, a hint of your old shyness creeping in. “I do okay. It’s challenging, but I love it.”

“I’m sure you do more than okay,” Charles insists. “You’ve always been the smartest one in the family.”

You laugh softly. “I don’t know about that. But ... thanks, Charles. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Charles squeezes your hand. “I mean it. And I want to hear more. About your classes, your friends, everything. I’ve missed so much, and I want to make up for it.”

You nod, a cautious hope in your eyes. “I’d like that. But Charles, it can’t just be today. This has to be a continuous thing. I need to know that you’re genuinely interested in my life, not just when you’re trying to make amends.”

“Absolutely,” Charles agrees immediately. “What if we set up a regular call? Once a week, we can catch up properly. No distractions, no racing talk unless you want to. Just us.”

A genuine smile spreads across your face. “I’d really like that.”

Charles feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. It’s not fixed, not completely, but it’s a start. “There’s something else,” he says, suddenly remembering. “Max ... are you and Max ...”

You blush slightly, looking down at your latte. “We’re ... figuring things out. He’s been really supportive through all of this.”

Charles nods, pushing down the instinctive surge of protectiveness. “He’s a good guy. If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

You look up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Really? You’re not going to go all overprotective big brother on me?”

Charles chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have my moments. But Y/N, you’re an adult. You can make your own choices. I trust you.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you. That ... that means more than you know.”

As you both finish your drinks, the conversation flows more easily. Charles asks about your friends, your hobbies outside of studying. You tell him about the astronomy club you’ve joined, the research project you’re hoping to get involved with next semester.

When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”

You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.

“I love you, little sister,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I promise, I’m going to do better.”

You squeeze him back. “I love you too, big brother. And ... I’m willing to give you the chance to prove it.”

As you part ways outside the café, Charles heading back to his car and you towards your apartment, there’s a lightness in the air that wasn’t there before. It’s not perfect, not yet. There are still conversations to be had, bridges to be rebuilt. But for the first time in a long time, there’s hope.

Charles watches you walk away, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Pride in the amazing person you’ve become, regret for the time he’s missed, determination to be the brother you deserve.

He pulls out his phone, creating a new reminder: Call Y/N — every Sunday, 7 PM.

It’s a small step, but it’s a start. And as he drives home, Charles finds himself looking forward to getting to know his little sister all over again.

***

The auditorium of the International University of Monaco buzzes with excitement as proud families and friends gather to celebrate the graduating class. In the front row, an unusually high-profile group draws curious glances and whispered conversations.

Charles fidgets in his seat, craning his neck to scan the sea of graduates. “Do you see her?” He asks, nudging his older brother.

Lorenzo chuckles, placing a calming hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Relax. She’ll be here. Alphabetical order, remember?”

On Charles’ other side, Arthur rolls his eyes fondly. “You’d think he was the one graduating, the way he’s acting.”

“Can you blame him?” Max chimes in from the end of the row, a warm smile on his face. “It’s a big day.”

Pascale, seated between Lorenzo and Arthur, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “My baby girl, graduating university. I can hardly believe it.”

Max reaches across to pat her hand. “She’s amazing, Pascale. You should be very proud.”

Charles turns to Max, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at you, all calm and collected. I remember when you were a nervous wreck asking her out for the first time.”

Max blushes slightly, but grins. “Hey, your sister is intimidating. All that brainpower.”

“Shh!” Arthur hisses suddenly. “I think it’s starting!”

The auditorium falls silent as the ceremony begins. The family watches with rapt attention as the graduates file in, searching for that familiar face among the sea of caps and gowns.

And then, there you are. Your eyes scan the crowd until they land on your family, a bright smile spreading across your face as you wave discreetly.

“There she is!” Charles whisper-shouts, practically bouncing in his seat.

Lorenzo chuckles. “We see her. Try to contain yourself, yeah?”

The ceremony progresses, with speeches from the valedictorian and various dignitaries. Charles fidgets impatiently, earning amused glances from his family and Max.

Finally, the moment arrives. “Y/N Leclerc,” the announcer calls.

Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.

Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.

You walk across the stage, accepting your diploma with a graceful nod. As you turn to face the audience, your eyes lock with your family’s, and your composed expression breaks into a radiant smile.

Charles, caught up in the moment, continues cheering even after you’ve left the stage. “That’s right! Astrophysicist in the house! Watch out, universe!”

Max, noticing the irritated glances from other families, reaches over and claps a hand over Charles’ mouth. “Okay, Charlie, I think she heard you,” he says, laughter in his voice.

Max feels something wet against his palm and jerks his hand away.

“Ugh, gross!” Max yelps, wiping it on his pants. “What are you, five?”

Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”

Pascale sighs, shaking her head. “Boys, please. This is Y/N’s big day. Try to act like adults.”

“Sorry, Maman,” Charles mumbles, properly chastised.

As the ceremony concludes, the family makes their way outside, eagerly scanning the crowd for you.

“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.

You’re making your way towards them, diploma in hand, your face glowing with happiness. Max reaches you first, sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Congratulations, liefje,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

You beam up at him, about to respond when Charles practically tackles you both.

“My sister, the genius!” He crows, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. “I always knew you’d take over the world someday.”

You laugh, hugging him back just as fiercely. “Put me down, you goof! You’re making a scene.”

“Let him have his moment,” Lorenzo says, stepping in for his own hug once Charles releases you. “It’s not every day your little sister graduates top of her class in Astrophysics.”

Arthur’s turn comes next, his hug gentler but no less heartfelt. “Congrats. You’ve officially made the rest of us look like underachievers.”

Finally, you turn to your mother, who’s openly crying now. “Oh, my darling,” she says, cupping your face in her hands. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

You feel tears welling up in your own eyes as you embrace her. “Thanks, Maman. For everything.”

As you pull back, wiping at your eyes, Charles slings an arm around your shoulders. “So, what’s next? Going to discover a new planet? Name a star after your favorite man?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “First of all, I still have to get through graduate school. And second, bold of you to assume you’re my favorite.”

“Ouch,” Charles clutches his chest in mock pain. “After all we’ve been through?”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Face it, Leclerc. I’ve got you beat in the favorite department.”

Charles narrows his eyes playfully. “Is that a challenge, Verstappen?”

“Boys, boys,” you interject, laughing. “There’s plenty of me to go around. Now, how about we get out of here? I’m starving, and I believe someone promised me a celebration dinner.”

“Ah, yes!” Pascale says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve made reservations at La Maree. Your favorite, chérie.”

As the family starts to move towards the parking lot, Max hangs back, tugging gently on your hand. “Hold on a sec,” he says softly. “I want to give you something.”

Curious, you turn to face him. Max reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.

Your eyes widen. “Max ...”

He opens the box, revealing a delicate necklace. A small white gold star pendant hangs from the chain, a tiny diamond twinkling at its center.

“I know it’s not much compared to your usual study subjects,” Max says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “But I thought ... well, you’re my star, Y/N. My brilliant, beautiful star.”

Tears well up in your eyes again as Max fastens the necklace around your neck. “It’s perfect,” you whisper. “I love it. I love you.”

Max’s face breaks into a radiant smile. “I love you too,” he says, before leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your waist. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.

The spell is broken by an exaggerated gagging sound. You break apart to see Charles pretending to retch, while Lorenzo and Arthur laugh.

You break apart, laughing. “Real mature, Charles,” you call back.

Charles grins, unrepentant. “Hey, someone’s got to keep an eye on you crazy kids.”

Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Your brother, the chaperone,” he mutters.

You giggle, taking Max’s hand as you rejoin your family. “Don’t worry,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’ll ditch him at the restaurant.”

As you all pile into the waiting cars, the air buzzing with excitement and plans for the evening, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness. A year ago, you never would have imagined this scene — your family truly seeing and celebrating you, a wonderful man by your side who loves and supports you, and a bright future ahead in a field you’re passionate about.

The cars pull away from the university, carrying you towards your celebration dinner. As you watch the familiar streets of Monaco roll by, you find yourself filled with an incredible sense of anticipation. This isn’t just the end of your university journey — it’s the beginning of something new and exciting.

You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.

“Hey,” Max says softly, noticing your pensive expression. “You okay?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “More than okay. I’m perfect.”

And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.

[ivyues]

Surprise Visits and Silent Tears: Stray Kids' reactions to finding their S/O crying

Bang Chan

Chris hummed to himself as he closed the door to his studio, the melody of his new song lingering in his mind. The new song had been coming along more smoothly than he thought. He couldn't wait to surprise you, picking up a little treat from the bakery on the way – something sweet, just like you. It had been a good day, and he was eager to see your bright smile and make your day as special as his has been.

However, when he entered your apartment, the sound of faint sniffles stopped him in his tracks. Pushing open the bedroom door, he found you curled up in bed, tears staining your cheeks. “Y/N?” he called softly.

You froze, looking up, your eyes meeting. The tears were only rolling down your cheeks faster upon seeing him. You were not sure why.

Chris immediately rushed to your side, kneeling beside the bed. "Hey, hey, what's going on?" His voice was filled with both worry and tenderness. He reached out to hug you as softly as he could, feeling like holding you too tightly would break you like glass.

You looked up at him, blinking away your tears, trying to muster a smile. "I'm sorry... I didn't expect you..."

He shook his head, brushing a tear away from your cheek. "No need to apologize, love," he said softly, his voice filled with understanding. "I'm here."

Lee Know

Lee Know wore a playful smirk as he grabbed his jacket and slipped out of the dorm, eager to surprise you. He knew you had a rough week, so he thought it would be a good idea to show up unannounced, hoping to lift your spirits by taking you out on a surprise date. He texted you a quick message, saying he'd be there in 15 minutes, then set off towards your place.

As he walked down the hallway, his smile slowly faded when he heard soft crying through the walls. His stomach twisted with concern.

"Y/N?" he called softly, standing outside your bedroom door. When there was no response, he carefully opened it, his eyes falling on you lying face down in bed with your head on your arms. Your shoulders were shaking with silent sobs.

Upon noticing him, you slowly sat up, gently wiping away your tears. 

As he stepped closer, the soft ding of a notification broke the silence. His eyes shifted to your phone on the nightstand, where a new message appeared. Beneath it, he noticed his own text, still unopened. The sight made his stomach tighten – whatever you were going through had completely consumed you.

"What’s wrong, Jagi?" Lee Know asked, sitting beside you. His usual teasing nature was replaced with a rare softness in his voice.

You shook your head. "I just... I don't know. I feel so overwhelmed."

He pulled you into his arms, his warm embrace grounding. After a while, his fingers began tracing soft patterns along your cheek. Then, with a gentle poke to your cheek, he broke the silence, his voice tender as he asked, "Have you eaten?"

Changbin

Changbin had been swamped with work all week, but today. But as he got to leave earlier today, he decided to surprise you. He picked up a bouquet of flowers and made his way to your apartment. His plan was simple – show up unannounced, catch you off guard, and bring a little joy to your day.

As he stood at your door, he rang the bell with a grin, eagerly anticipating your reaction. But when the door didn’t open right away, confusion flashed across his face. He could hear soft music coming from inside. Frowning slightly, he used his spare key and stepped in.

The apartment was as empty as it seemed. Something felt off. The kitchen light was on, and the music played softly in the background. He set the flowers down on a nearby table and walked cautiously toward the hallway.

And then he heard it. The faint sound of muffled sobs coming from the bathroom.

His heart sank as he hurried towards the door. Without knocking, he softly pushed it open and found you curled on the floor, tears streaming down your face. He rushed to kneel beside you.

"Hey, hey," Changbin whispered, his voice filled with concern and tenderness. "What’s going on? What happened?"

You didn’t answer, shaking your head. He gently cupped your face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. His heart sched seeing you like this. 

Changbin scooped you into his arms and carried you to your bed. He sat beside you as he moved your hair out of your face. "It’s okay," he whispered, his voice soft and comforting. "You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m here, no matter what."

Hyunjin

Hyunjin had been looking forward to this surprise all week. He had planned a simple, yet perfect evening for you: a romantic dinner and some quiet time together.

When he arrived at your apartment, he expected a warm greeting, a smile, or maybe even a playful tease. But as he stepped inside, he noticed something was off. The lights were dimmed, and there was a soft sound coming from your bedroom.

Concern flooded him as he followed the faint sobs to your door. He pushed it open gently, his heart sinking when he saw you curled up in bed, your face buried in your hands, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs.

"Y/N?" Hyunjin's voice was soft, his usual confidence replaced with worry.

You looked up in surprise, your eyes red and swollen from crying. "Hyunjin? What... what are you doing here?"

"I was hoping to surprise you," he said quietly, his voice tinged with concern. "But... what’s going on?"

You shook your head, embarrassed. "I didn't want to bother you. It's just been a rough day."

Hyunjin walked over slowly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Why didn’t you call me?" His voice was filled with genuine worry. "I would have been here for you, you know that."

Reaching out, he gently took your hand and pulled you into his arms. "You don’t have to hide from me. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere."

You sighed into his chest, feeling the weight of the day slowly lifting. "I’m sorry for shutting you out."

"No need to apologize," Hyunjin murmured, stroking your hair. "Just promise me you’ll let me in next time."

As you held onto him, the comfort of his presence began to soothe your heart.

Han

Han had been looking forward to this all week. He had prepared a special night just for you – your favorite snacks, a playlist he made, and the promise of a cozy movie marathon. He couldn’t wait to see your smile when he showed up unannounced.

As he stepped inside, his ears picked up a faint sound – soft crying. His brows furrowed in concern as he carefully set the bag of treats down and followed the sound to your bedroom. The closer he got, the clearer it became that the sobbing was ragged – like you were struggling to breathe.

When he pushed the bedroom door open, his chest tightened. There you were, curled up in a ball on the bed, your quiet sobs muffled against the blanket. For a moment, Han just stood frozen, his eyes growing wide, mirroring the same round boba shape you always teased him about.

"Y/N?" he called softly, stepping into the room.

You gasped slightly and turned your face away. "Han? What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice shaky.

"I came to surprise you, but... what's going on?" he asked as he knelt beside you next to the bed.

"Well, I am sorry I ruined your plan," you murmured, avoiding his gaze. You didn’t want to drag him down, not when he’d gone out of his way to make you happy.

Han shook his head, his voice gentle but firm. "Hey, don’t apologize for feeling things." He reached out, his hand resting on your shoulders, steadying you. "Do you want to talk about it, or do you just want me to stay here with you?"

You hesitated, unsure of what you wanted right now. Seeing your hesitation, Han quickly pulled his hands back. “ …or do you want me to leave? I-I won’t be offended, I promise. Whatever makes you-” 

Instead of answering, you threw your arms around him, pulling him close in an instinctive need for comfort.

Felix

Felix knew something was off when your texts grew shorter and less frequent. Deciding not to overthink, he baked your favorite brownies and headed to your apartment.

When opening your apartment, his heart sank when he heard quiet sniffles from your couch. Setting the brownies down, he approached cautiously.

You looked up, startled by his presence. "Felix?"

"Hey," he said softly, crouching in front of you. "What’s wrong, sunshine?"

Tears filled your eyes again as you shook your head. "It’s nothing, really. Just... a bad day."

Felix smiled gently, sitting beside you and pulling you into a hug. "Bad days suck, don’t they?" he murmured, his deep voice soothing.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly and began peppering your face with soft kisses. "One here, and here, and... here," he said between kisses, his antics earning a small laugh from you.

"Felix!" you protested weakly, but the corners of your lips curled upward.

"See? That’s better," he said, grinning. "Now, let’s eat brownies and watch something silly. Sounds good?"

Felix’s warmth and lightheartedness made the room feel a little less heavy, and for the first time that day, you felt a flicker of happiness return.

Seungmin

You had always told him how much you wished to hear him sing more, how his voice had the power to brighten even the toughest days. Every time you joked about it, he'd blush and laugh it off.

That afternoon, Seungmin had decided to make your wish come true. He picked up his guitar and set off to your apartment, excited to tease you about your expression when you realized he was about to serenade you.

But when he arrived, the apartment was silent, too silent. His heart skipped a beat when he heard soft sobs coming from the bedroom. His excitement quickly turned to concern, and he quietly set his guitar down on a nearby chair.

He pushed the door to your room open, and there you were – sitting on the bed, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees, your face buried in them. The sight of you like this made his chest ache. Seungmin’s steps were slow and careful as he sat next to you, unsure of what to say.

Startled by his unexpected presence, you quickly looked up, the eyes of your tear-streaked face having grown wide in startle. You blinked, taking a moment to process, and then, almost instinctively, you smiled softly. 

Without thinking, you raised your hand and playfully slapped his chest, a small laugh escaping your lips despite the tears. "You scared me!" you teased, though your voice trembled. “Can’t even cry miserably with you.”

Seungmin’s heart swelled with concern and affection. He placed his hand gently on yours. "I'm sorry," he whispered. “But you’re the one who ruined my surprise.”

You blinked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

I was going to serenade you and stuff," he said softly. "Just like you always wanted."

 “Well, I guess I missed my chance.” you said while laying back. 

Sensing the change in your mood, Seungmin got up to close the blinds, then returned to you, and pulled you in a back hug, his body pressed against yours.

“You’ll get your serenade soon, I promise,” he whispered, his voice gentle. “But for now, just know I’m not going anywhere.”

He held you close, his hair tickling in your neck. “Now tell me, are you okay?”

I.N

I.N decided to surprise you in a different way today. Knowing that the last time you had been so happy, he visited your apartment unannounced. This time, though, he had something different in mind: a little playful scare.

His plan was simple. He would sneak up to and suddenly jump out and shout, "Boo!" Maybe he'd even make a funny face to add to the surprise. He smiled to himself, feeling the excitement of planning something fun, his sneakers barely making a sound on the stairs as he crept toward your door.

He tiptoed inside your apartment, biting his lip to stifle a laugh as he spotted you on the couch.

“Boo!” he shouted, jumping out from behind the couch.

Your gasp wasn’t the reaction he expected. Your wide eyes filled with fresh tears, and you clutched your chest, overwhelmed.

Jeongin’s grin instantly vanished as he realized that your face is all puffy and red from crying. “Oh no… oh no, baby” he said, rushing over.

You shook your head, trying to wipe the tears from your face, but he gently grabbed your hands, pulling them away. “Im so sorry”.

“I-It’s nothing,” you stammered, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to scare you that bad,” he whispered, his brow furrowing in guilt. “I just wanted to surprise you…”

You let out a breath to steady yourself. “It's not you. I just had a tough day.”

I.N pulled you into his arms. “I’m sorry, Y/Nie. Whatever it is, you don’t have to deal with it alone,” he murmured, stroking your hair. “I’m here now, okay? For anything.”

In his embrace, the weight started to lift, and for the first time that day, you felt a glimmer of comfort. I.N kissed your forehead and smiled. “Next time, I promise I’ll just knock like a normal person.”

masterlist

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Stay Stay Stay Pairing - Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary - Until you met Tyler, you'd only had shitty boyfriends who would leave at the first sign of trouble or when you started to get too attached. Tyler Owens however is there to show you that he's in it for the long run, even when he finds out you're pregnant with his child. Word Count - 4.5k Warnings - Pregnant Reader, but this is just 4k words of pure fluff based on Taylor Swift's Stay Stay Stay ngl.

You woke up feeling miserable. You had barely gotten any sleep, staying up most of the night crying, and all you could think about was how stupid the fight you and Tyler had seemed now. You glanced over at the clock on your bedside table, and shot up when you realized how late it was. Tyler might have already gone, and now you wouldn’t get the chance to say how sorry you were. The fear of that gripping your chest had you rolling out of bed and out the door. What you saw in the hallway however, had you stopping in your tracks. 

 As soon as you shut the door behind you, Tyler jolted awake from his spot on the floor, rubbing his eyes. He was still in his clothes from last night, the button up and jeans, complete with cowboy boots. “You stayed out here all night?” You asked, emotion tight in your throat. 

Tyler looked up at you, brushing his hair back from his face. “Of course I did. Didn’t know if you might need me or not after those nightmares you’ve been having.” 

“But - but I threw something-”

“Your phone.” He informed you. 

Heat rushed to your face in embarrassment. “-My phone at you.” 

“I don’t know if I’d really say ‘at me’. If so, your aim was pretty off for someone who used to play baseball.” He said, and he started to move so he could stand up. 

Before he could though, you bent down and scrambled into his lap, wrapping your arms and legs around him as the tears fell down your cheeks. 

He let out a surprised grunt, but put his arms around you as well. “To be honest, not the greeting I was expecting this morning.” He said in a strained voice, probably because you were squeezing him so tight. 

“I thought you left already, and I didn’t want you to leave mad at me, because if something happened to you out there. . .” You wondered if he could even understand you with the way your tears messed with your breathing, but you had to tell him. The thought of him leaving while the two of you were mad at each other made you feel sick. 

“Hey,” Tyler started running a hand through your hair, the comfort of the motion easing into you. “I wasn’t about to leave without talking to you. I told them I’d catch up.” You closed your eyes as you felt his lips against the side of your head. “And you know I can’t leave without my good luck kiss.” 

You pulled back so you could look at him when you said this. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I got so mad. I’ve just been all over the place lately, and I feel like I’m losing my mind. I’m mad one second, the next I’m sobbing, then I can’t keep my eyes open, and the next second I feel like I’m going to die if I’m not jumping your bones-”

Tyler reached up and brushed your tears away with his thumb. “That one’s my favorite.” He said with a smirk. 

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “I think I’m going crazy.” 

“Baby, you chase tornados in your spare time. Pretty sure by most people’s standards you are crazy,” he said, putting some hair behind your ear. 

You shook your head, and playfully smacked him in the chest. “I’m serious. I mean I know I get a little crazy around-” the thought hit you like a freight train. “Tyler, what’s today?” 

His brow furrowed, his smirk turning into a frown. “Sunday . . .”

“No! I mean what day of the month?” Were the calculations you were doing in your head right? Had the time passed that quickly? 

“It’s the 11th. Why?” 

Oh god. You gripped his face in your hands. “Ty, I’m late.” 

Tyler squinted at you. “Did you have somewhere to go . . . ?” 

You shook your head, your eyes wide with panic. “No, Tyler. I’m late.” You grabbed one of his arms and put his hand on your stomach, giving him a significant look. 

It was funny, how you could almost see the gears moving in his mind. It was like when he was trying to decide what storm to chase. You could tell the exact moments your words and actions landed. His eyes widened, and he glanced down at your stomach, then you. “You’re late . . . For that?” 

You nodded, watching his face for his reaction. It was an accident of course. The two of you tried to be careful, but one night a couple of months ago after an insane chase . . . The adrenaline got the better of both of you. While you had known you could get pregnant, you thought the chances of it happening the one time you didn’t use protection couldn’t be that high. Well, the universe might be proving you wrong. You weren’t sure how you felt about the possibility, but you were damn sure terrified of what Tyler might be thinking. 

You didn’t need to be. 

A slow grin started to spread on his face, and within seconds you found yourself hoisted over his shoulder and into the air. 

Letting out a little shriek, you grabbed a hold of his shirt. “Tyler! Put me down!” 

“Can’t! Got to go buy a pregnancy test.” He said, giving you a smack on the ass that made you squeal again. 

“We can’t! I’m not wearing pants!” 

“You don’t need pants to take a pregnancy test!” He said. 

A laugh left your lips at that, but then you smacked his back to get his attention. “Ty, what about the crew? They’re waiting on you. I can take the test, and call you-”

He put you down then, his hands holding your face and making you look at him. “If you think there is anything more important to me right now than this, you’re wrong.”  

It almost embarrassed you that you had thought for even a second any different. “I might not be, you know? I could actually be losing my mind.” 

Tyler shrugged. “Either way, there’s no place I’d rather be right now than here with you.” He said, sliding his hands down to grab your own, then leaned forward to give you one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever had in your life, all gentle and tender, enough to almost bring tears back to your eyes. “Now, there’s my good luck kiss.” He said once he pulled away. 

“And what do you need good luck for, huh Owens?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. 

He smirked at you. “I’ll tell you later.” 

And he did. In about five months after he shot fireworks up in a tornado to reveal you were having a boy, just like he wanted. 

————————

“Ty! I can pick up potatoes. I’m barely showing.” You said, shaking your head at him as he dived in front of you to get the sack of potatoes before you could. 

He put them in the grocery cart, leaning over it and crossing his arms. “See, I know that, but the gentleman in me won’t let the woman carrying my son do something as lowly as pick up potatoes.” 

You rolled your eyes. It was sweet, but you knew it was also going to drive you crazy. “If you don’t let me do some things I might murder you in your sleep. I hope you know that.” 

Tyler raised his eyebrows at you, pretending to look confused. “Then who would reach all the stuff on the top shelf?” He asked, his expression morphing into a smirk as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“I guess I’ll have to find another tall, handsome cowboy. Shouldn’t be too hard.” You teased, and then grabbed the cart, pushing it past him. 

He stopped you, grabbing you around the waist, holding you back against his chest and pressing a kiss against your neck. “Unfortunately, you’ll find I’m very hard to replace.” He murmured against your skin. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, elbowing him in the side. “All right cowboy, if you’re going to not let me pick anything up heavier than three pounds, go do me a favor and get the water. Lily said you guys are running low, and the weather conditions for the weekend look rough.” 

Tyler pressed another kiss against your neck, and then let you go. “Whatever you say ma’am.” 

You watched him walk away, a sight you always enjoyed in those jeans, then hurried up to get as many of your groceries as you could before Tyler came back to not let you do anything again. 

“Well, look who it is.” 

Oh god, you knew that voice. It was one you hadn’t heard in years now, and one you hoped never to hear again. You almost didn’t want to turn around so you could pretend it wasn’t there, but you knew this person wasn’t going to allow that to happen. It would hurt his ego too much. Turning around, you let out a sigh at the familiar face. “Hey, Charles.” 

Your ex was a dick. In fact almost all of your exes were dicks. Until you started dating Tyler, you hadn’t known what it was like to date someone that put you above themselves. Charles was no different. In fact, he was one of the worst, and the way he was looking at you right now made you want to throw up. Or maybe that was the morning sickness . . . 

“I’ve got to say,” he looked you up and down. “You’re looking good.” 

Nope, it wasn't morning sickness. “Thanks.” You replied, moving your cart so you could go around him. Hopefully you could make a quick escape and pretend this whole interaction had never happened. “It was good seeing you.” Lies. 

He grabbed the cart, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait a second. Don’t you think we should catch up some? I mean it’s been-”

“Five years.” You answered, your hands squeezing the handle of the cart. 

He smirked. “You kept track?” 

You wanted to smack that expression off his face, “to celebrate.” 

The nice facade faded upon your words. “You know, I thought maybe you’d changed over the years, but it seems like you’re still a-”

“Got the waters!” You breathed a quick little sigh of relief as Tyler came to a stop beside you, carrying not one, but two packs of water. He placed them in the cart, flipped his baseball cap around backwards, and put his hand on the small of your back. “Who’s this?” Tyler asked with his charming grin. 

You took a step closer to Tyler, not because you were scared of Charles, but because you liked the comfort of his presence. Something you never felt with the douche in front of you now. “You remember me telling you about Charles? This is him.” 

To Charles, Tyler showed no response to the name, but you felt the hand on your back press a little harder against your skin. Tyler turned to look at you, and there was a little glimmer in his eyes when he spoke. “I don’t actually. Are you sure you’ve mentioned someone named Charles before?” 

You had to bite back a smirk once you realized what he was up to. “Yeah, I think so.” You played along. 

“Hmmm, I must not have thought it was that important. Anyway, Tyler Owens.” He held out his hand to Charles, and you watched Charles’s face with delight. Not only had Tyler made him feel unimportant, something you knew from experience he couldn’t stand, but Tyler was . . . a big man. At least a foot taller than Charles, and more muscles on him than this guy could ever hope to have. You didn’t however expect the look of disbelief that crossed his face. 

“Tyler Owens? The tornado wrangler?” He asked, almost too shocked to shake his hand, but then he collected himself and reached for Tyler’s. 

“The very same.” He said. “Though I’ve got to say, I think my favorite title is her future husband.” He said, nodding his head back to you. 

Heat flushed straight to your face at the bold statement. Tyler and you hadn’t talked much about marriage. You had thought that might be the logical next step, but you also didn’t want to bring it up if it scared him away. With past boyfriends, including the one in front of you, it always had. You should’ve known by now though that Tyler was nothing like that. You leaned into him more now, smiling as his arm went around you and his hand rested on your stomach. 

“Her future-” Charles looked dumbfounded, and you also didn’t miss the wince when Tyler shook his hand probably more roughly than necessary. 

“Got to lock her down, you know? Plenty of other idiots have already let her go. I’m not going to make the same mistake.” Tyler replied, giving you a smile full of mischief. 

You placed your hand on top of the one he had on your stomach. “Ty, I’m having your baby. I don’t think you have to worry about that.” You assured him, your smile widening as he kissed your cheek. 

“You’re - you’re pregnant?” 

You’d almost forgotten Charles was there with Tyler’s sudden proclamation, but his words pulled your attention back to him. Turning to the side, you let him see the slight curve to your stomach. “Yep. Four months to go before we meet our baby boy.” 

As soon as you said the words, Tyler’s face lit up with genuine excitement like it always did. “I can’t wait.” He turned back to Charles, putting both of his arms around you protectively now. “How do you two know each other again?” Tyler asked, and once again you had to fight back a laugh. 

“It doesn’t matter.” You said, looking back up at Tyler with a soft smile. “We need to be getting out of here anyway right babe?” 

“Yes ma’am. Well, it was nice to meet you, Chuck.” Tyler said, stepping back from you so he could grab a hold of the cart with one hand, taking your hand in the other. 

You couldn’t hold your laughter back anymore at that point, entwining your fingers together as you followed him to the register, leaving Charles standing dumbfounded in your wake. 

________________

It was the thing you had been the most scared of happening. You had no one else to blame other than yourself though. You were the one who had insisted that Tyler go on the chase. It was supposed to be a large storm, and you reminded him that it was the last one he’d probably go on for a while since the season was ending, as was your pregnancy. You had faith that he would be careful, knowing that he wouldn’t risk anything that would endanger him from meeting his son. 

What you hadn’t expected however, was your water to break three weeks early. 

It was safe to say you were panicking when you called your sister to come get you, and by the time they wheeled you back to your room, you were close to a full blown meltdown. “I can’t do this without him.” You told her, holding your stomach as if that could keep him in, tears streaming down your face. “And he’s at least five hours away! What if I don’t have that long?!”

Your sister, who was more calm than you, grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze. “He will make it, I’m sure. You’ve texted him right?” 

You bit your lip, and when your sister gave you a look, you blurted. “I didn’t want to ruin his chase! I thought I’d wait to see if the doctor was even going to take me!” 

“Oh my god.” She reached into your bag and grabbed your phone. You held out your hand for it, but she was already texting away. “There, done.” 

“What did you say?” 

But she didn’t answer, instead she waited about ten seconds and said, “he said he’s on his way.” 

You nodded, watching as she put your phone back in your purse. God you hoped he was going to make it. The thought of doing this without him was terrifying. You were already scared enough that something was wrong because of how early he was. Having to have this baby without Tyler by your side, reassuring you the whole way, seemed impossible. 

A few minutes later, while you were lost in your thoughts, the door to your room opened and a nurse walked in. “Hey, honey, how’re we doing?” 

“She’s panicking.” Your sister replied for you. 

You glared at her. “My boyfriend, he’s - he’s not going to be able to get here for a few hours, do you think I have that long?” 

She gave you a sympathetic smile. “Well that’s according to him I’d say, because I speak from experience when I say babies don’t wait for no one.” She said. 

Oh god, he wasn’t going to make it. You just knew it. He wasn’t going to make it in time, and you would have to try and do this without him, and you didn’t think that you could. You needed him. You needed him so badly it added to the pain you were already in, and the worst part was that it was your fault. If you hadn’t forced him to go on that chase - 

“I’m here, I’m here!” 

To your complete and utter shock, Tyler came sliding into your room, taking his cowboy hat off and hurrying to your side. 

“Ty?” Was all you could think to say.

“Did I miss anything?” Tyler asked, taking your hand in his own and looking at your nurse. 

“Dad, I assume?” The nurse said with a smile. 

Tyler beamed at the use of the word. “About to be.” 

“In that case, you haven’t missed a thing yet. We’re about to take some vitals and get this show on the road.” She informed him. “Glad you could make it.” She said, and left your room. Your sister, sensing the two of you needed some alone time, followed close behind. 

Once they had both left, your thoughts caught up to your brain, and you squeezed Tyler’s hand. “Tyler Owens, I’ve never been more happy to see you in my entire life, but how the hell did you get here so fast?” 

He gave you an affectionate smile, and reached up to wipe away the tears you didn’t even know you’d still been crying. “Yeah, so about that chase . . . I never went.” 

“You - you what?” 

He started stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “You were less than a month away from having our son. I knew you’d blame yourself if I didn’t go, but I also knew if something happened while I was away . . . You’d blame yourself too. So I just . . . stayed at a hotel the past couple of nights.” 

You couldn’t even be mad. He knew you too well, and the relief you felt that he was here to help you was too much to be upset. “I was so scared you were going to miss it.” 

“Not for the largest tornado in the world baby.” Tyler said, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss it. “You ready to do this?” He asked as they started wheeling in the equipment. 

Not five minutes ago you were horrified. The effect of Tyler’s presence on your emotions was remarkable. With him by your side, you had no doubts that you could do this. You could have this baby. “Now that you’re here? Definitely.” 

Tyler leaned forward to give you the last kiss the two of you would have before you were parents, the smile on his lips unmistakable. 

————————

“He looks so much like you it’s like you birthed him.” You said with a tired laugh. It was god knows how many hours later, you had never been more tired in your life, and somehow you and Tyler had squeezed into your tiny hospital bed. You were leaning against his shoulder, eyes glued to the baby he held in his arms that was looking up at you both curiously. 

“Not completely. I know that nose anywhere.” He said, gently tapping your son in the nose. Then, for the first time since his son had been placed in his arms, he looked at you, the unmistakable glint of tears in his eyes. “He’s perfect.” 

You knew that you were already emotional. You were exhausted, overwhelmed and a million other things at once, but the way Tyler was looking at your son, then at you? Your whole body seemed to light up with warmth. It was love all over his face, pure, intense love, and you didn’t think you’d ever be able to forget what it looked like again. You felt too choked up to speak, so you slipped your arm through his to curl your hand around his bicep, and turned your head to kiss his shoulder. 

A smile formed on your face as Tyler looked back at your son, that adoring expression not fading for a second. “This is the best day of my life so far.” 

“So far?” You said curiously. 

“Well, you haven’t agreed to marry me yet.” He replied, grinning over at you. 

Your smile widened, giving his arm a little squeeze. “Ty, you haven’t asked.” 

“I haven’t?” Tyler said, pretending to look confused. “It’s a great proposal. You’ll just have to wait and see.” 

You rolled your eyes, but the thought of Tyler proposing to you made you feel giddy. “Does it involve fireworks in a tornado?” You teased. 

He shook his head. “Nah, been there, done that. Boone would love it though.” Tyler shifted your son, who cuddled right against his chest. “By the way, the crew’s waiting outside with your sister.” 

You sat further up, wincing when you moved too quickly. “Jeez Tyler, how long have they been out there?” 

“Since they dropped me off.” He admitted. 

“You mean none of them went on the chase either?” You said in shock. 

Tyler shook his head again, “They said this was going to be better than any tornado.” 

Your throat clogged with emotion again, and you really hoped this crying at the drop of a hat wasn’t going to last long. “Go get them! They deserve to see him!” 

He reached up, brushing a tear away from your face. “Are you sure? I know how tired you are, and I can tell them to come back tomorrow.” 

“I can sleep when they’re gone. Right now I want them to see what they gave up a chase for.” You said, holding out your arms for the baby. 

Tyler leaned forward, giving you a kiss on your forehead and handing your son over as gently as if he was made of glass. You smiled as he snuggled right up to your chest, and knew that there was no better feeling in the world than this right here. When you looked up, Tyler was staring at the two of you as if he was trying to memorize this moment. “I love you.” He said finally. 

You felt like you could float at that moment, so light and loved. “We love you too.” You told him, and the softest smile formed on his face. “Go,” you told him before you started crying again. “We’re not going anywhere.” You joked. 

“You better not.” He played along, giving you a mock stern look, and then he went outside the door. 

Not ten seconds later you heard a cheer from outside your door, and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at their enthusiasm. Of course, they were shushed by nurses, and then Tyler brought them all in. 

You smiled at them as your sister, Lily, Boone, Dex and Dani’s eyes all went straight to the baby in your arms. Lily, Dani, your sister and Dex rushed forward to get a better look and started cooing over him, the biggest smiles on their faces while Boone hung back, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe the baby was a real thing.

“We got you guys something.” Dex said, holding up some familiar looking material as Tyler got back into the bed with you. He handed him the shirts, and Tyler unfolded them, letting out a laugh before showing them to you. It was similar to the normal shirts, but instead of Tyler’s face, it was a baby with a cowboy hat. That would have been hilarious enough, but instead of saying, “not my first tornadeo” it said, “this is my first babeo.” 

“Oh my god, it’s so cheesy. I love it.” You said with a laugh yourself. 

“We also got little man . . .” Dani held up a little onesie that said, “mini wrangler” on it with their tornado logo. 

You grinned, looking down at the bundle of cuteness in your arms. “It’s perfect.” You said, turning your smile to them. “Thank you guys for bringing Ty by the way, and staying. I would have understood if you all went on the chase.” 

“Are you crazy? We weren’t going to miss this.” Lily said, giving your son a little wave. 

Your eyes went over to Boone though, still standing back a little ways. The man who had gone into tornados and helped shoot fireworks and rockets up into them was looking at the baby in your arms like it was a bomb. “Hey Boone, you want to hold him?” You asked. 

“Oh, I don’t - I wouldn’t even know how-”

But Dani was already pushing him towards you. “It’s all right Boone, you got this.” You reassured him, sitting up a little more to hand him your son. 

“Make sure you get the back of his head.” Tyler said, watching with the eyes of a hawk as you gently placed him in Boone’s arms. 

“Woah.” Boone said, as he looked down at him. 

Tyler wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and now that your arms were free, you curled into his side, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arm around his stomach. 

“T, man! He looks just like you!” Boone said, and you smiled at the excitement in his voice. 

“Except for the nose.” Tyler said, and you found your eyes closing as Tyler pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

He was so comfortable, and you were so tired. You felt yourself starting to drift off as his thumb brushed up and down your shoulder. It was hard not to when you felt so safe and loved, surrounded by your family, your new baby and the love of your life. 

Tyler could sense it, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You want me to kick them out?” 

You shook your head, tightening your grip on him. “They can stay.” You murmured, nuzzling into him. “Make sure Boone doesn’t get too excited and drop our baby.” You joked. 

“Yes ma’am.” Tyler responded with a chuckle, pulling you closer. “You go ahead and rest. I'll be here when you wake up.” 

“I know.” You mumbled sleepily with a soft smile. “You always stay.”

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when the pint-sized copy of gojo satoru fails the quiz his dad helped him review?

the door slams.

not shuts. not closes. slams—with the full, righteous fury only a small, betrayed child can muster. a tiny, furious body with too much emotion and too little upper-body strength, using every ounce of indignation to make an entrance.

a backpack ricochets off the hallway wall, landing with a sad, almost pitiful plop. you pause mid-slice, knife hovering above half a strawberry on the cutting board, sugar-dusted fingertips twitching.

from the living room, satoru blinks behind a pair of wire-framed reading glasses—askew on the bridge of his nose, balancing in the space where his usual sunglasses would sit. he’s sprawled lazily on the floor, legs kicked up onto the coffee table, wearing a pair of navy blue pajamas patterned with tiny mochi cats. an open manga flutters against his chest.

he doesn’t sit up. not yet. just slowly turns his head toward you, peering over the edge of the couch with the exact caution of prey sensing a distant predator.

“...was that the wind?” he asks, voice very hopeful.

you lift a brow, flicking your eyes toward the front hallway.

“baby,” you deadpan, “we don’t get wind indoors.”

and then—like a summoned curse echoing from the depths of a broken heart—a sound shatters the air.

a wail.

high-pitched. raw. as if the whole world had crumbled under a pair of light-up velcro sneakers. you barely have time to process it before—

“mamaaaaaa!! daddyyyyyyyy!!”

satoru flinches like he’s taken physical damage. the manga slips off his chest and hits the floor with a soft thup. both your heads snap toward the hall just in time to witness the grand, devastating arrival of your son.

he’s tiny. flushed pink from the cold or from his tears, it’s hard to tell. his white hair is a mop of fluffy chaos—tufts sticking up where little fingers must’ve raked through it on the playground, a single rebellious cowlick curled toward the sky like a question mark. cheeks blotchy. nose red. lower lip trembling so hard it casts its own shadow.

and he’s crying.

not sniffles. not whimpers.

crying. open-mouthed, sob-shattered wails that rattle the windows and tug at your heart. arms flailing, body stumbling forward like a tragic protagonist in a historical drama. his sleeves are too long—he must’ve tugged at them all day—and now they flap as he wipes his eyes with the cuffs, trailing streaks of moisture across the fabric.

your knife is already down. you round the kitchen island in record time and crouch, arms open.

“baby, what’s wrong?!”

he doesn’t just run into your arms—he launches himself, full body-weight, like a little cannonball of despair. his backpack thumps against your hip as he buries his face in your chest.

“i didn’t get ice creeeeeeam—!!”

you blink.

“...oh,” satoru says from behind you, having finally peeled himself off the floor. he crouches beside you, pajama pants riding up a little around the ankle. his hair’s a fluffy mess, eyes wide behind his reading glasses, mouth open like he’s still buffering. “you didn’t get what?”

“ice cream,” your son sobs, voice thick and hiccuping. “everybody got some ‘cause they passed the quiz and i didn’t—even though we studied!! even though we did the ming dynasty thing and daddy wore the stupid kimono!!!”

“it wasn’t stupid,” satoru frowns, indignant. “it was authentic.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “sweetheart, slow down. what quiz?”

“the history one,” your son says, sniffling miserably. “with the ming dyna—hic—sty and emperor yongle and daddy said if i remembered the porce… porcelain stuff i’d get full marks…”

you and satoru lock eyes.

oh.

that quiz.

the living room flashes back in your mind—satoru in a patterned bathrobe tied with your silk scarf, chopsticks in his hair, declaring himself emperor of all snacks. your son clutched his stomach from laughing so hard he rolled off the couch. satoru called it “immersive education.”

apparently... it wasn’t effective.

your son’s lower lip quivers again. he pulls back slightly to sniff, his little brows furrowed, his voice small and wounded. “it’s not fair… daddy said he was the best at history and he lied and now everyone got to go to the cafeteria for ice cream and i had to stay and read with ms. matsuda and it was boring and i don’t even like maps—”

satoru visibly stiffens. his head tilts.

“...oh no,” he mutters. “it was geography?”

you stare at him.

“wait,” you say slowly, turning back to your son, “you did the ming dynasty for geography?”

he pauses.

his eyes widen. he turns to satoru. horror dawns.

“...what?”

satoru clears his throat. tugs at the collar of his mochi cat pajama top.

“...oops?”

“daddy!!!” your son bellows, fists flying. he punches satoru’s arm with all the fury in his tiny frame. it’s like being attacked by a particularly angry cloud. satoru lets himself be dramatically thrown back onto the floor, flopping like a fish.

“argh!! fatal blow! betrayal by my own bloodline!!”

your son sniffles, shoulders rising and falling, too tired to be mad but too heartbroken to forgive. he plops back onto the floor with a heavy sigh, pulling his sleeves over his hands like a soggy little dumpling of grief.

“...so i don’t get any ice cream.”

from the floor, satoru grins.

“nope. you’re getting a whole bucket.”

you whirl on him. “satoru—!”

“what? he suffered, he deserves it.” satoru pushes his glasses up and cracks his knuckles. cursed energy begins to shimmer faintly around him, blurring the air like heat off pavement. “i’ll be back in fifteen. or maybe two. actually—let’s make it one.”

you gape. “you’re using your limitless to get him ice cream—?”

“and this is why you married me,” he says with a wink, and then—

pop.

he’s gone. air displaced in a puff of cool wind and sparkles.

you sigh. your son leans into you, cheek pressed to your shoulder. you wrap your arms around him gently, brushing your fingers through his hair. still soft from this morning’s brushing. a few crumbs from lunch clinging to the ends.

he tugs your shirt, voice muffled.

“...mama,” he says, “if i cry again, can i eat more scoops?”

you pause.

squint down at him. “that depends. are the tears real?”

he considers. long pause. then, with the gravitas of a stage actor, he pinches his nose and starts fake crying—loud, wobbly sobs that rock his whole body.

and then—pop.

satoru’s back. disheveled, pajama sleeves windblown, glasses askew, and arms cradling an absurdly massive neon plastic tub that smells like every ice cream flavor ever invented. it’s glowing. it might actually be radioactive.

your son stops fake-crying mid-sob.

“…score.”

satoru beams. “for my little emperor of the ming dynasty!”

you all end up piled on the couch, one tangled mass of pajama legs and sticky fingers. strawberry slices forgotten on the counter. your son curled between you both, spoon held like a royal scepter, dribbling rainbow cream down his chin as he proclaims flavor rankings with the gravitas of a judge.

“your majesty,” satoru intones, spoon raised high, “may i present the cookie dough scrolls of diplomacy.”

you roll your eyes fondly, head resting on satoru’s shoulder. “you’re such an idiot.”

he kisses your cheek, smiling.

“uh huh. but i’m your idiot.”

your son silently shoves a spoon in both your mouths.

he’s still sulking. a little. but the betrayal has been soothed by frozen sugar, warmth, and the fact that tomorrow, daddy promised to stage the tang dynasty.

correct subject pending.

a/n : i need to have his babies so bad nobody understands 😔🥀 yes you can't convince me he wouldn't teleport just to get his kids ice cream even if he's wearing ridiculous pajamas <3

[rafekisser]

Had this idea about Rafe’s best friend! Reader who hasn’t been with anyone in like a year and is getting really worked up. Maybe she had a terrible week and there was a last straw and she’s yelling and yanking on her hair and throwing things and Rafe is kind of realizing she just needs to be totally dominated and taken care of so he does

rafe x bsf!reader

a/n: i totally love that idea anon !! first time writing ever i just didnt want to let sweet nonnie down, so apologies if its not that good !

cw: smut, swearing, drool.

rafe knew you haven’t had a hookup in ages. you would vaguely mention it, when it would be just the two of you in either one’s rooms. if he was being honest, he pitied you. he even wanted to be the one to help you…

you were pissed off the whole week. maybe it was your hormones, with the way you would get annoyed at everything.

whether it be traffic making you late to events, or people at the country club being rude, steam was coming out of your ears.

you were like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode anytime now. good thing your bestfriend kept you grounded whenever you were feeling overstimulated.

so there you were, in your room getting ready for dinner with your family and the camerons. rafe on your bed scrolling on his phone, patiently waiting for you.

you were quiet while doing your makeup on your vanity table, not your usual chatty self. normally you would go on and on about anything and everything under the sun, yapping for hours on end.

rafe knew something was up.

“something wrong bunny?” he asked, using the nickname he gave you referring to the time you dressed up as a bunny for halloween when you two were little.

“no,” you replied with a pout, voice barely above a whisper.

rafe knew better than to push you, so he just sighed and kept quiet.

a few moments have passed, and rafe hears a soft ‘oh fuck’, a thud, and heavy breathing from your vanity. he looks up from his phone and sees your head down, soft sobs coming from the table.

when he got up to come closer, you shot up. screaming, crying, wailing even. rafe could see your problem now: you smudged your mascara. you started yanking out your hair curlers, figuring they were useless if your makeup was ruined anyway.

“woah woah- hey bun!” he yelled, pulling you by your waist. he placed you on your bed, rubbing up and down your arms to soothe you.

rafe guided you gently so you were laying your head on your pillows. he was in between your legs, arms caging your frame.

“shh calm down baby,” he whispered, wiping your mascara stained eyes with his thumbs.

he petted your hair, large hands slowly making their way to your cheeks.

“i’m here, i’m here.” he cooed as your cries hushed, turning into soft hiccups.

in this position he could feel you wet through your bloomers. he looked at your eyes as if to ask for permission silently, before he cupped your mound through the frilly fabric.

“what d’you need bunny?”

“need you rafey,” you whined. he carefully pulled down your bloomers, a string of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric.

rafe grew hard at the sight, taking his thumb to run across your slit. his other thumb trailing to play with your nipples through your top.

you mewl at the simultaneous sensations, given you haven’t experienced them in a long while. he took that as a sign to circle your clit, causing your eyes to shut and your legs to close, only to be blocked by rafe’s broad figure.

he then plunged two fingers in and out of you, thick digits stretching your tight hole. rafe’s hand that was previously playing with your tits find their way to your mouth, muffling your lewd moans.

“let’s be quiet bunny. your parents might be downstairs” he shushed, deep voice making your pussy clamp down on his fingers.

fingers curling up to hit your sweet spot, rafe could feel you getting close.

“you can cum baby, go ‘head,” he signals, feeling you gush all over his hand. eyes rolling to the back of your head, you felt euphoria rush through you.

as you rode out your high, rafe removes his hand from your mouth, drool dripping from your mouth and his hand.

“sorry,” you squeaked. he didn’t mind anyway, just happy you probably had your first orgasm not from your own fingers in months.

it never occured to you that this was an option, to be touched by your own bestfriend. this wouldn’t be the last time it happens, you could tell.

“thank you rafey.” you smiled weakly at him, looking through your lashes. he didn’t say anything, just kissed your forehead.

“are we late to dinner?” you asked, suddenly remembering why you were getting ready.

“i drive fast, we’ll make it,” he smirks, grabbing your small hand to cup the bulge through his pants.

dinner could wait.

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated !! love, scarlet.

[shushmal]

Steve watched Eddie's van turn the corner and shut the front door, closing himself away from the outside world so none of his neighbors could see him as he rested his forehead against the painted wood.

"I'm not going to cry," he told himself.

He said it even as his eyes began to burn and his face began to twist, teeth grinding and throat closing. He wiped quickly at his face, again and again, as he stumbled to the couch to sit, drying each tear as it rolled down his cheeks, clinging to his jaw.

"I'm not going to fucking cry," Steve choked, and then doubled over into himself, arms around his thighs, and he began to sob.

So what if he was twenty-two, living in his parent's house alone, working the same dead-end job with a sixteen year old manager. So what if all his friends and family were in college, spread out from New York to Chicago to Los Angeles. So what if his boyfriend was moving to Seattle for his band and they broke up, because Steve was never going to be his parents, resenting and being resented for keeping his partner from his dreams. So what if he was too scared to ask Eddie to stay, to ask Eddie if Steve could go with him. So what if everyone moved on and Steve couldn't?

Steve grew up lonely. He could get used to it again.

He didn't realize how hard he was crying until the front door burst back open and Eddie hurled himself at Steve's feet, long limbed and clumsy and babbling.

"Baby, oh fuck, I'm sorry," he said, already untangling Steve from himself, tying all his loose ends back up together with his until they were a knot of their own. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Stevie. I never should have— I wanted to—"

"I'm sorry," Steve sobbed back. He gasped and swallowed it all back down. Eddie had already gotten them raveled up again, it would take forever to pick it back apart. Steve knew it would hurt worse this time. "Fuck, Ed, you didn't have to— I'll be okay, I don't want to hold you back—"

"Come with me," Eddie burst.

And Steve couldn't help himself, and began to sob again.

"Please," Eddie begged over Steve's crying, his voice shaking and his face wet enough to match Steve's. "Please, sweetheart, honey, please just come with me?"

Steve took a shaky breath, embarrassed and now too full of hope and fear. "You sure?" he whispered. He pressed his face into Eddie's neck, breathing him in again for what might be the last time, again. "Eddie, don't—"

"I'm so sure," Eddie said. "I'm so fucking sure, Steve, please."

"Okay," Steve breathed. Eddie had always been the braver of the two of them, especially when it counted. Steve leaned back so he could look at him, red faced and watery eyes. He tried to give Eddie a smile, but he knew it was wobbly and weak. "Okay."

All of Steve's fears meant nothing as he watched the happiness break like dawn over Eddie's face.

[evie-sturns]

make up - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and your boyfriend chris have a massive argument, and even after he apologises you still dont forgive him. he makes it up to you a totally different way.

contains: smut, makeup sex, angst, arguing, yelling, fluff, swearing.

-------------------------------------------------------------

9:38pm

chris walks into the warm kitchen, i lean against the counter with a small smile.

"hi chris!" i speak softly, i walk up to him and wrap my arms around him.

he pats me once on the back before shrugging me off with a small incoherent mumble. "chris-? whats wrong with you?" i ask calmly, cocking my head to the side.

he scoffs, "nothings 'wrong with me', just not in the mood for it.", his voice is hoarse and he sounds pissed.

"not in the mood for what-?" i ask, staring up at him as he continues to look down at his phone, the light of the screen illuminating his features.

"not in the mood for you," he snaps back almost instantly before turning around and walking into the dining room.

my eyebrows knit together as i try to stay calm.

"what do you mean? what did i even do?" i ask, following him into the dining room.

he sits down at one of the chairs with a huff, his eyes closed as if hes trying to block me out.

"chris-" i start but he instantly cuts me off,

"every single minute you wanna be grabbing on me and shit, every. single. minute." he replies quickly,

"i dont understand why youre so obsessed with me or something? like god can i get any time alone?" he spits,

i let out an audible gasp,

"what- why is your ego so big that you automatically assume i'm 'obsessed' with you?" i laugh,

"you're my boyfriend of course i want to touch you?" i follow up, a frown clear on my face.

"you know you can be so damn clingy, pisses me off." chris raises his voice as he stares up at me from the dining chair.

i stare down at him, my eyebrows knit together as i try to figure out how to calm this situation down.

but i can’t, he’s pissed me off now and i’m known for talking back quite often…

“not my fault your a moody grown ass man, but you never fail to act like a child.” i told my arms,

“god, listen to yourself, just a whole load of yap yap yap.” chris mumbles as he makes a mouth with his hands.

he rolls his eyes,

“why are you acting like this?” i raise my voice, folding my arms over my chest with a hurt expression.

“i’m not acting like anything! you genuinely annoy me so much and i’m not sure how much longer i can keep putting up with your bullshit.” he scoots his chair back, it makes a loud screech on the wooden floor as he stands up to meet my gaze.

“well what then- you’re gonna break up with me cause you’re in a sensitive fuckin mood?” i yell back,

“you’re making it hard not to.” he laughs bitterly,

“chris- you get like this too often! i mean all you do is complain and bitch-?”

he cuts me off, “all i do is complain? you can’t go a full hour without whining to me, i hate that about you, seriously hate it.”

i throw my hands in the air, he takes a firm grip of my wrist and clutches it tight.

“let me go you asshole!” i yell, tugging my arm.

he grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

i stare up into his piercing blue eyes as he speaks.

“you are such a bitch, such a fucking bitch.” he speaks codly, a hint of honesty behind his words.

i finally get my wrist free with a loud huff,

“where are you off to now? ‘gonna go have another cry in the bedroom? seems like the only thing you do.” chris grumbles,

“fuck- i hate you!” i scream, storming off down the hallway into my room.

“i bet you do” he scoffs,

i slam the door of my room, i walk over to the bed and flop down on it.

-

i promised myself i wouldn’t cry, i don’t want chris thinking i’m a crybaby.

but now i’ve been alone for 20 minutes, the emotions are finally building up as i replay the argument over and over in my head.

i burst into a sob, instantly trying to wipe the tears away, but it’s no use, they spill down my cheeks quicker than i can control.

i bury my face in my hands as i let out wracked sobs,

i grab chris and i’s shared stuffed animal, which we collectively got for our 6 month anniversary.

i let out shaky breathes as i try to calm myself down

my thoughts get interrupted by two knocks at the bedroom door,

it follows by chris walking in with a small smile, all of his anger from earlier gone.

“hey..” he whispers, a nervous expression on his face

i ignore him, keeping my eyes fixed on my lap.

“can we have a little chat- please?” chris asks softly,

i shake my head, maybe i’m being somewhat immature, but i don’t care.

“i just wanna say i’m sorry, i love you a lot and i wasn’t thinking straight- at all.” he whispers, staring at me.

he sits on the bed infront of me,

“i don’t like fighting with you, and i’m sorry that i managed to start an argument it wasn’t your fault.” he speaks, his hand resting on my knee,

“i’m sorry baby.” he sighs,

i give him total radio silence, my mouth presses in a thin line.

“can i have an answer please?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over my knee softly.

i shake my head with a small pout,

“oh- please don’t give me that pout, i hate seeing you so upset.” he sighs,

“i don’t forgive you.” i mumble, i fidget with my nails as i stare down at my hands.

“okay, do you want more time alone?” he asks,

i shake my head with a small “no.”

“would you like me to stay here with you?” he follows up,

i shrug,

“what can i do to prove i’m sorry?” chris asks, scooting up next to me on the bed and resting his back against the headboard.

i shrug again,

chris reaches out and glides his fingers over the waistband of my sweatpants, keeping his eyes locked on my face.

he slowly dips his hand under my waistband, i feel his cool fingertips grace over the lace of the panties.

i nod slightly, a signal for him to keep going.

“can i make you feel really good please?” chris asks, his voice is slightly more hoarse now.

i nod, “fine..”

i try to sound as uninterested as possible, just as a little reminder i’m still mad at him.

chris grabs me under my arms and lifts me onto his lap,

i straddle him, my legs on either side of his thighs.

he reaches for the hem of my shirt, i nod.

“and.. up!” he gently lifts my shirt off over my head,

he reaches round and unclasps my bra, letting it fall onto his chest

“so so beautiful ‘f me.” he sighs, his hands roam over the curve of my waist.

i stay seated happily on chris’s lap, looking into his eyes as he sits up against the headboard.

he reaches round for my sweatpants, gently tugging them down my legs and off my ankles, leaving me in just my baby pink pair of panties. a little bow decorating the top.

my clothed cunt presses against his sweatpants,

his eyes rake over my body with a small groan,

i whine, reaching for the hem of my panties.

“i’m sorry doll, i don’t mean to tease ‘ya.” he whispers, quickly discarding my panties and shoving them in his pocket

i sit completely bare ontop of him, he’s fully clothed still just admiring me.

he gently rolls me off of him onto my back, i lay spread out across the mattress.

he stands up off the bed and gently tugs me to the edge of the bed, my legs dangling off the end of the bed.

he reaches for his belt buckle, which makes a loud clinking noise as he lets it drop to the floor.

chris tugs off his shirt, which is slightly cropped at the bottom.

finally he reaches for the button of his jeans, letting it drop to the floor and pool around his ankles.

he stands in his boxers, his happy trail peeks out the top of his waistband.

chris pulls me even closer to the edge of the bed,

he kneels down on the floor infront of me, his head inches away from where i need him most.

my breathing picks up as i feel his hair graze the inside of my thighs, my clit practically throbbing now with how bad i need him.

“i- chris- please you- you said you wouldn’t tease me-“ i whimper, shifting my hips to bring them closer to chris.

he chuckles softly, his hands wrap around my thighs and position them over his shoulders.

he tugs me close to him, his nose brushing against my clit.

i feel him finally place his tongue onto my entrance, tingles shoot straight through my body.

he licks a stripe from my hole up to my clit, savouring the flavour as he slowly presses his lips to my clit.

he hums against my clit as he sucks on it lightly, jolts of pleasure rushing through me.

chris has never been known for being gentle or slow, he usually goes so rough to the point of me screaming out his name, so this is definitely a change.

he speeds up, i clench around nothing as i get closer and closer.

my hands tangle into his hair, tugging softly at the silky strands.

“oh- oh chris-!” i moan out, he gently thrusts his fingers in and out of me, my walls stretching around his longer fingers.

that’s enough to tip me over the edge, i clench around his fingers.

i let out a breathless moan as i release, chris gently unlatches his mouth off of me with a grin, my juices covering his chin.

he wipes his chin on the back of his hands,

“feeling a bit better sweetie?” he asks, his lips glossy.

i nod, laying my arm messily across my face.

“tell me what you want now.” he whispers, his hands travel up the sides of my torso as he gently removes my arm from my face.

“you a bit sensitive? do you wanna wait a minute?” he asks softly,

i shake my head, “just want-.. you.”

“okay baby.” he whispers, standing between my legs.

“hold my hand if you need to.” chris says, his blue eyes fixed on mine.

i nod, reaching up and gripping his hand.

“okay- ‘s gonna hurt a little bit but you’ll get used to it like always.”

he gently pushes inside of me, his tip stretching me out already.

i squeeze his hand tight before letting out a pathetic moan.

he pushes deeper inside of me, i let out small whimpers.

“i know, i know.” he whispers, his free hand coming up and resting on the side of my face.

he grabs a pillow and positions it under my back,

“feel a little better?” chris asks as his cock sits fully inside of me.

i nod, finally cracking a small smile.

chris leans down, his arms caging around me as his face hovers inches from mine.

he slowly starts to thrust, keeping his eyes locked on mine as his chain dangles in my face.

“oh- fuck- you’re so tight.” he mutters, positioning himself so he repeatedly hits my g-spot.

“chris-“ i moan, gripping his bicep.

chris quickens his pace just so slightly, his tip repeatedly brushed against that sweet spot.

“i’m so sorry baby- fuck..” he groans,

“didn-didn’t mean to upset you- earlier-“ he moans out as his thrusts keep their steady rythm.

“you- you cum whenever you want to baby, don’t gotta ask me for permission.” he whispers,

i nod frantically,

“fuck- oh my gosh!” i arch my back off the bed,

“feels so full chris-“ i whimper, he reaches a hand down and presses on my lower stomach,

“you feel me right there?” he asks, gently massaging my stomach.

i nod, a choked moan escaping my lips.

“such a pretty girl,” he groans,

i whine, opening my mouth wide.

“yeah?- ‘ya want my fingers?” he asks,

i nod frantically, needing something to muffle my noises.

he gently presses two fingers in my mouth, letting them rest on my tongue.

“goood girl, good girl.” he rambles, keeping his fingers resting on my tongue.

“oh- ‘m so- ‘m so close-“ i say through a muffled moan,

my gummy walls clench around him, feeling the knot in my stomach get closer to snapping.

and finally,

it does.

i let out a loud whine against his fingers as i finish, clenching around him so tight.

chris instantly lets go, burying his release deep inside of me.

he pulls his dick out of me with a loud pop, followed by his fingers.

he stands hunched over between my legs as he catches his breath. “god- god y/n.” he whispers,

his cum slowly drips out of me onto the bedsheets, which chris seems to pick up on,

he gets the two fingers which were just in my mouth and gently pushes his release back inside of me, “there we go, gonna take it all ‘f me.”

he finally collapses beside me, pulling me onto his chest.

i bury my head in his collarbone, wrapping my arms around him.

“do- do you finally forgive me?” chris asks with a small chuckle, still completely out of breath.

“i guess so.” i grin cheekily,

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

@sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 1 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-love r @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall john @raysmayhem-72

[writersdrug]

Heyyyyyy!!! So I’m absolutely freaking OBSESSED with your bartender AU… like I’m just eating up everything that’s coming out with itttttt!!! I love your writing so much and I’m honestly so hooked whenever I read your stuff!

I was wondering if I could request something with bartender Simon Riley and it’s where he finds reader crying in the backroom/pantry/stock area of the pub cause it’s been one of *THOSE* days. So he finds her there and sits with her and she just absolutely melts onto him and it’s all very sweet… sorry if this too much info for a request! Again, I absolutely love your work! 🤭🫶

Combining this with a few other asks about reader and Simon having a tender moment + reader having monetary issues

You're rather quiet today - you'd come in and spoken your hello's to everyone, then promptly got to work. Starting on rolling silverware in the far booth, then fifo-ing the pantry and fridge upstairs, then cleaning the bathrooms (you hated cleaning them, which is how Simon first figured out something was wrong). Didn't even reach for the French toast sticks Soap had put under the warmer for everyone. You have an expression plastered to your face as you work. Something between frustration and worry, and it has Price, Johnny, and Simon all on edge. Still, they let you be; it was well-known by now that personal space is sacred to them, and Simon trusts that you'll speak up if you need a shoulder.

Gaz couldn't stay to help drag the kegs upstairs today - something about the Brewmaster being on a trip to Austria, so he was left to watch the brewery. Simon doesn't mind that much. He can easily lift two kegs onto his shoulders and trudge them upstairs to the fridge. He grunts as he moves past the office, careful not to bang the kegs on any corners. Adjusting his grip, he pushes his way into the walk-in fridge-

He sees you, facing the boxes of fruits. "Oh- sorry, luv-" he sets the first keg down, then the second. "Y' need me to reach somethin'?"

You shake your head. Simon furrows his brow, noticing how tense your shoulders are. You're just... standing there. Not reaching for anything, not even looking at the shelves. Just staring at your feet.

You're crying.

All of his duties as a bartender fall to the side. He lets the door fall shut behind him. "Hey, hey... what's goin' on?" he places a hand on your upper back, rubbing his thumb back and forth as he waits for you to turn around. His mind is racing a million miles a minute, trying to imagine what could possibly have you this upset - and what he can do to fix it.

You shake your head, sniffling and trying to control your breaths. "It's nothing, I'm just - just a weird day, y'know? Not sure why I'm crying." You turn to look up at him and muster a smile, though your teary eyes say something else entirely.

He sighs. "C'mon, what's wrong?" He kneels down so that he's looking up at you - something his mom used to do when he felt too overwhelmed to tell her why he was crying. He can't explain it, but it made it easier to let go of whatever was troubling him.

Your lip wobbles, and you cave. Simon holds himself steady as you hug him, his burly arms wrapping around the small of your back. You sob, chest shaking with sharp inhales and sniffles, and Simon closes his eyes and sighs. This is what he wants: to be the lighthouse in your storm, to hold you steady while you began to slip. More than anything, though, he doesn't want you to cry.

He does what he remembers his mother doing. He gently shushes you, heart aching as you fist the back of his shirt and try to compose yourself. He uses one hand to drag an upturned crate behind you, slowly lowering you to sit down. The last thing he wants to do is let go of you, but he needs you to talk. He grabs a bucket and pulls it under him, planting himself in front of you and looking into your eyes.

"Talk to me. What's on your mind, hmm?"

You explain it all through sniffles and sobs: you're mom's recently called and said she wants to visit you. You're embarrassed with yourself, still living in that shitty apartment with your shitty roommate, a marketing degree hanging on your wall that you've never used (believe me, you've tried, but places really aren't hiring). Money isn't tight, but you're not saving - just making enough to exist and occasionally buy the name brand instead of the generic. One thing spirals into another, and you find yourself despairing about how you're never going to be anyone important, you're never going to make a difference - you're not even a cog in the machine. You're just the space between it.

God knows Simon's felt it, too.

"See?" you laugh at yourself, wiping a tear away with your fingers. "It's stupid. I do this every once in a while, right before my period."

Simon grunts. Good to know he can start buying chocolate and leaving it stuffed in the server cabinet. "It's not stupid, luv. You're worried - it's alright."

You cover your eyes, fighting the urge to start sobbing again. "I just... I feel like I'm not doing what I should be doing. I'm not getting anywhere. I thought I was going to be in a corporate office by now, living in a penthouse apartment and travelling wherever I want."

Simon scoffs. "Well, that's just unrealistic."

You huff. "I know. But that's success, isn't it?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Success? I mean... doesn't everyone?"

"Lemme put it this way." Simo leans his elbows on his knees, and you find yourself being drawn in to meet him, arms folded over your stomach.

"I assume you're happy 'ere." he says, looking you in the eyes. "What, with making your silly li'l drinks and swappin' all my shit for somethin' pink, 'n whatnot."

You giggle. "Yeah, I am..."

"Do you want to be happy?"

"I..." you pause. "Yeah, I do. Of course."

"Then aren't you already successful?" he asks. "You're not drownin' in bills - I hope you'd tell me if ya were - and you're happy. Is workin' a stupid corporate job n' livin' above the clouds gonna make it better?"

You looked at his hands, turning over the words in your head. It was stupid. It was the stupidest thing you've ever been worried about - he was completely right. You're happy here. You've never been happier - not in college, not at your data entry job, and definitely not in high school. You laugh, looking down at your own hands. "Yeah, you're... you're right. God, that was stupid-"

"Oi." he says sternly, slapping your knee - you froze, attention fully directed to him now.

"'S not stupid." he says, pointing a finger at you. "Just have to work through this sort of shit."

You watch as he stands and stretches his arms over his head, joints popping and cracking. "Should leave, 'fore we start heating up the fridge." he opens the door, and you quickly stand and follow him on the way out.

"What about the kegs?" you ask, following him down the stairs. "Do you need help bringing those up?"

"Give it time. Let it cool back down in there." He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the doorknob as he watches you quickly smear away the mascara under your eyes. "You eat anything today?"

You shake your head, fixing the knot on your server apron.

Simon forces his eyes away from your waist. "There's French Toast on the warmer - Soap made it for you. Go take a fifteen."

"But I haven't fini-"

"'M not askin'." he grunts out, pushing through the stairwell door and into the restaurant. He leaves you there to finish collecting yourself, staring after him with a small smile.

If this was you when you had first started working here, you would have thought he was frustrated with you for being so emotional. Now, that's just how you've come to know him. You quickly fix your hair and wipe your face once more, stepping out into the pub. The smell of cinnamon sugar wafts through the air as you make your way towards the kitchen, sparing one last sentimental glance to Simon as he begins setting up his bar.

[rafesangelita]

♡ babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader go to her first prenatal appointment

warnings: super sweet fluff, pregnancy, descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, reader is emotional (she can’t help it, okay?!!), crying, reassurance, comfort, some brief medical terminology

a/n: creating an official au introduction for this little universe of mine <3 just a reminder that pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this pairing unless stated otherwise in the author’s note!

wc: 1.9k

“ray, i can’t hold it!” you shrieked, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks, “you’re going to make me pee, i’m not kidding!” rafe was currently tickling your sides, your once hysterical laughter soon turning into breathless pants as he continued ignoring your pleas for him to stop. “aw, come on..” it wasn’t until the smile dropped from your face that he took the hint and got off of you, quickly helping you up to your feet so you could run to the bathroom.

you found yourself doing that a lot more now, your ability to ‘hold it in’ was long gone by this point. that, along with crying over the smallest things like rafe rubbing your tummy despite you not really showing yet, his attentiveness and care never failing to make you sob in his arms. thankfully, your morning sickness wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. now that you were approximately eight weeks, sailing was becoming more smooth, both you and rafe finally catching a small break from the wrath of your raging hormones.

you never got angry in the first few weeks, but annoyed and irritated? definitely. a few times you had to flash rafe a warning smile before he could take the hint that you didn’t want any of the food he was trying to feed you— the smell of certain meats making you feel queasy. “do you want me to projectile vomit into your lap?” you’d ask sweetly, your eyes slightly wide as rafe frantically shook his head before taking the forkful of steak away from your lips.

he’d been a good sport about absolutely everything. even now as he helped you out of his truck, rafe was quick to sling your purse over his shoulder, his hands staying glued to your hips until your pretty pedicured feet softly landed on the ground. you wasted no time in scheduling your doctor’s appointment the same fated day you and rafe looked down at that positive pregnancy test. you couldn’t believe a whole month had already flown by that quick.

“i’m a little nervous..” your whispered, taking rafe’s arm with your own, the height difference easily making you feel comforted as he held your hand. “ah, don’t be, i read that they’re just gonna run a few tests and ask you some questions, that’s all, sweetheart.” oh, you could cry right now. scratch that, you were crying right now. “you looked up how my first appointment would go?” rafe’s head shot down as soon as he heard your crying voice, both of you stopping just right outside of the doctor’s office.

“hey..” he turned, cupping your cheeks, “baby, i didn’t mean to make you sad.” he stroked the side of your face, thumbing away any stray tears that managed to roll down your cheeks. “no, you didn’t make me sad, it’s just— you’ve been so good to me, even before all of this, i just feel so lucky to have you. you’re so sweet, and you’re so helpful, and you even put up with me when i have an attitude sometimes, and—” rafe stopped your rambling when another couple came walking up to the entrance.

flashing awkward smiles at each other, rafe scooted you over before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “what did i tell you when you were panicking, flipping through that calendar book of yours?” you laughed at the memory. you were so scared that day. “you said you were going to take care of us.. of me.” rafe nodded, lifting your chin so you could look up at him. “i meant that, y/n. there’s nothing to be scared of, alright? everything that i’m doing for you isn’t even the tip of the iceberg for what you deserve, you understand that?” you blinked, wrapping your arms around his waist as you two stood there in silence for a few moments.

rafe held you until you were ready to go inside, your boyfriend holding the door open for you as you were hit with chilly air and the smell of antiseptic. “i’ll get the sign-in sheet, just go ahead and sit down, baby.” you listened, clasping your hands together in your lap as you took a look around the other women in the waiting room. everyone seemed so calm, like there really wasn’t anything to worry about. you figured you’d just been overthinking on your way over here, worrying yourself to death for no reason.

rafe came back with a clipboard, quickly filling out your information and handing it over to you when there was a section he didn’t know the information to. “hey, how about we get something to eat after this? we could get those subs you like down at the sandwich shop.” it was as if rafe read your mind, a small smile forming on your lips before you pecked his cheek. “with those spicy kettle cooked chips?” rafe hummed, taking the clipboard back from your hands. “yeah, whatever you want.”

you two waited for your name to be called out for no longer than fifteen minutes, your heart dropping to your stomach once a woman in pink scrubs smiled at you brightly. rafe could tell by the slight shake of your hands that you were back at square one. “look, everything is alright, let’s go check on this little one, yeah?” you swallowed nervously, allowing rafe to guide you inside the double doors, his large palm resting in the small of your back as you two followed the nurse to your room. the walls were painted with all kinds of animals, the woman who was going to do your ultrasound welcoming both of you in.

“hello! how are we feeling today?” she helped you up on top of the chair. “i’m on edge a little bit..” you told her truthfully, your eyes finding the probe for your ultrasound. “aw, that’s completely normal, i promise you you’re in great hands. is this dad?” she glanced over at rafe, the poor man turning red at the name. "yes, that's me.. dad.." the nurse laughed, grabbing a hospital gown from one of the cabinets. "still really new, huh? is this your first?" both you and rafe nodded. "oh, how exciting!" she squealed.

"are you aware of what we're going to do for this first visit?" rafe grabbed the chair from the corner of the room, moving it up to where he could sit next to you. "not really." you shook your head, letting rafe's hand envelope your own. "so even though the pregnancy tests you've taken are positive, we're still going to draw blood and run a few tests just to be sure," she started, "i'm going to be asking you a few medical history questions, checking your vitals to make sure everything with you is okay, and we should also be finding out your due date today!"

you took everything in, your tummy fluttering in excitement at the prospect of getting to find out when you were having your baby. "does that sound okay?" she began typing something on her computer as you hummed. "alrighty, first and foremost; when was the date of your last missed menstrual cycle?" you wracked your brain for an answer, trying your best to remember what your calendar book said. "uhm.. i don't know the exact day but i wanna say it's been five weeks since i found out i was pregnant, and before that i was late three weeks." she typed quickly as you spoke.

the questions continued as she took your vitals, along with recording your height and weight. “are you taking any prenatal vitamins?” you were about to say yes before rafe blurted out. “she’s taking the best ones on the market.” he smiled, both you and the nurse laughing as he took the bottle out of your purse. “yeah, those work wonders,” she agreed, “remember a healthy diet is also key to keep both you and the baby healthy. plenty of water, too.” rafe made a mental note to start bringing your stanley everywhere.

the nurse took your blood, instructing you to change into the hospital gown before she left with the viles to take them for testing. “i think she’s gonna put that thing inside of me.” you pointed at the probe on the side of the ultrasound machine, a shiver running down your spine as you sat back down on the chair. rafe couldn’t help but snap some pictures of you, his smile reaching ear to ear as you posed for him. “i hope she doesn’t take long, i’m hungry.” you pouted. just then, the nurse came back in with a some papers in her arms.

“so just as we expected already, your bloodwork came back positive, and everything else looks really good. all we have to do now is your pelvic exam and your ultrasound to get that due date!” you settled into your chair, stirring uncomfortably as she placed your feet onto the stirrups. rafe was watching everything intently, making sure you weren’t in pain or anything as she began your exam. thankfully, she was making small talk with both you and rafe, asking you two questions as well as giving you advice since you were first time parents.

“y’all are going to be just perfect, i promise you that. loving parents create happy households, and by the looks of you two, your home will be overflowing with happiness and love.” she smiled, finishing up your appointment with a satisfied hum. “everything looks good! although your blood pressure is a little bit up, that comes from the nerves you felt earlier, so we definitely want to be more careful with that, but everything else, baby included, looks healthy.” you sighed in relief, your shoulders relaxing as rafe nodded in understanding.

“when will we be able to actually see an ultrasound?” you asked, kind of sad that you didn’t get to see the little bean today. the nurse took her gloves off before checking something off on her clipboard. “i was actually hoping you’d be able to come in two weeks from now? we should be able to see the contraction of a heartbeat since you’ll be ten weeks by then.” you gasped softly. “oh, i would love that!” you nodded frantically, looking up at rafe just to confirm. “yeah, that sounds amazing.” he smiled, stroking your arm before the nurse adjusted the glasses on her nose.

you couldn’t help but feel antsy because of how excited you were, everything hitting you all at once. you were really going to have a baby. with rafe especially, you couldn’t imagine anyone else in his position. “well, i’m going to go set that up then and print out your overview for the appointment. you could go ahead and change back into your clothes and once your done the receptionist will have your paperwork to take home.” you and rafe thanked her and bid her goodbye before she stepped out.

you took everything in once it was just you and rafe, both of you sitting in silence as you gathered your thoughts. now that all you wanted to do was see that sonogram, you knew these next couple of weeks were going to get here agonizingly slow. “let’s get your clothes on.” you let rafe dress you back up, the two of you making your way up front and getting the papers. you were jumping excitedly on your way out once you saw the due date, rafe taking his camera out and getting what felt like the hundredth photo of you today.

“i can’t wait to find out the gender, we’re going to have the cutest nursery!” you squealed excitedly nearly tripping over your feet before rafe rushed over and got you in the truck. “so how about those sandwiches?”

[alchemistc]

"How is he doing?" Maddie asks, and Tommy doesn't know how to answer that.

The thing is, he's watched Evan put on a mask. For a week and a half now, Evan has curled into Tommy's arms and taken the support Tommy offers, but the moment anyone else reaches out he's a different fucking person. Steel spine and marble face, not a wobble or a stutter to his words, the consummate professional.

It's startling to be the one who gets to watch the mask fall away. See the marble melt, the steel bend under the heat and the weight bearing down on him.

He knows that song and dance. He's perfected it.

To see Evan take up that mantle makes his chest feel caved in, and sometimes it happens so quickly and purposefully that Tommy wants to gag, to scream, to sob.

"He's grieving. We all are." It's not enough. But Evan has made it clear that he will not bend or break in front of the people Bobby asked him to take care of, and Tommy can't betray that.

Maddie rolls her jaw. Her expression is half-teary, half-murderous. Like she should be the one who has to witness that flint-strike change in her baby brother. Like she should carry that weight when Evan can't manage it for another minute.

Maybe she should. Maybe Tommy's stepping in where he doesn't belong.

Except Evan has been shockingly explicit, and honestly a little fucking demanding, about what he wants from Tommy.

Tommy's just grateful there aren't any uncertainties, in this moment in their lives. Tommy knows exactly what he's here for right now.

Beyond that...

"Has he talked to you?" She's still on the verge of tears, watching Evan out of the corner of her eye, brow furrowed in concentration at the kitchen island, garnishing whatever dish he's brought his family this evening.

Tommy blows out a breath. "Maddie..."

She shakes her head. Turns to look at him, head on. Even sitting he's nearly a head taller than her, but she has a fierceness to her that makes the size difference meaningless. "If you leave again it will break him." It's an accusation and a promise all at once. The fire in her eyes tells him she knows intimately what it's like to be on his side of the equation. She's also wrong.

Evan is one of the strongest people Tommy's ever known. He'd survive it. He'd thrive, eventually.

The rub is that Tommy has seen behind the curtain now, and decided on his own that he wants to be the one Evan can trust to pick up his pieces.

And that means Tommy has to confront his own shit head on. Quickly, and in a fashion that somehow allows him to share that piece of himself with Evan in a way that won't have Evan trying to be strong for Tommy, too.

Tommy contemplates how he can phrase what he wants to say without sounding like an ass. Without sounding like Maddie should mind her own business - of course Evan is her business. "Right now what he needs is to be the one taking care of things."

He'd watched Evan meticulously rip a funeral program to shreds last night, the pieces getting smaller and smaller until they were nothing more than mulch on the coffee table. He'd spent the previous hour crying, and the following one setting up a fucking catering line of casseroles they'd cooked one by one until about four in the morning because the oven was too small to handle the load.

Forty minutes ago he'd watched Evan paste on a smile when his sister answered the door, and Tommy had removed the steadying hand he'd had at his back, and received a grateful elbow nudge in response.

"What happens when that changes?" Maddie asks. Less accusatory, this time, though no less seeking.

Tommy manages to hold her gaze without spontaneously lighting on fire. "Then he'll need us to take care of things, for a while."

It's not enough. He knows it. She knows it. But the only factor he's not entirely sure of is who Evan Buckley will be once the mask slips somewhere he doesn't mean it to. The only thing he isn't sure of is where he'll be allowed to be, once Evan comes out the other side of this.

Stealing a second helicopter was as good as locking in for the long haul. Tommy will need to explain that, at some point, even if the response he gets rends him limb from limb.

"And you'll be there. To take care of things."

It's the worst kind of kinship imaginable. Two people so terrified of being hurt they'd prefer to be alone.

"As long as he lets me," Tommy murmurs, and pastes on a smile of his own when Jee-Yun clambers up into his lap to show him a doll with half its hair ripped out at the root.

[b1eedthefreak]

Sweet Dreams

daryl x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, sleepy/subby reader, thigh riding, overstimulation, crying (from pleasure), soft dom Daryl, lots of praise, aftercare, tenderness, use of pet names (good girl, baby, i think sweet girl i forgot)

⸻

The night was quiet. Crickets chirped low outside, and the wind creaked against the windows. Daryl lay still in bed, one arm slung across your waist, the slow rhythm of your breathing brushing over his bare chest. You were warm, curled up next to him, dead asleep… or so he thought.

Until he felt it.

A tiny shift at first. Then again. The slide of your hips against his thigh.

His eyes shot open.

“…Baby?”

He whispered it low, voice still thick with sleep. He felt your body shudder faintly in his arms—your breathing shaky now, your forehead pressed into his shoulder, your fingers gripping at his side.

He blinked a few times, brain struggling to register what the hell was going on.

And then it hit him.

You were riding his thigh. In your sleep. Little, slow, desperate rolls of your hips, your panties damp against his bare skin. Fuck. His whole body tensed, but not in shock. He had to grit his teeth to keep himself still, watching your face crumple into the softest pout.

You were whimpering. Not sad. Needy.

His poor girl, dreaming about him and chasing it in your sleep.

Daryl’s hand trailed slowly up your back, petting gently, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Sweetheart… that what you need, huh?”

You didn’t wake. Just kept going, a little faster now, your thighs trembling from the effort. He could feel the heat soaking through his thigh and it made his cock twitch in his boxers.

He couldn’t help it, he lifted his leg just a little, angling it right where you needed, guiding your hips with one hand.

“There ya go baby… that better?” he whispered, pressing kisses into your hair. “Get yourself off, darlin’. Use me however you want…”

You whimpered again, one broken little sob of need, and your fingers clawed into his chest.

Then you gasped.

Eyes fluttered open—wide and glossy—and you froze. Cheeks burning. You were mortified.

“D-Daryl—wait, I—I didn’t mean to—” You were panting, dazed and shaky, but too close now to stop. “I—fuck—I was so close—”

Daryl cut you off with a soft hush, cupping your cheek.

“I know, baby. S’okay. You ain’t gotta stop now.” He sat up just enough to hold you better, dragging your hips forward. “Let me help you finish, yeah? You were doin’ so good without me, but I gotcha now…”

You whined at the contact, body jerking forward as his hands gripped your hips and started rocking you against his thigh again, this time rougher—deeper.

“Daryl—please,” you choked, tears welling in your eyes from how fucking close you were again already.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Rub that needy little pussy all over me,” he muttered, nose buried in your neck. “Take what you need. Make a mess on me.”

That was it.

You shattered.

Your whole body locked up, back arching as the orgasm hit, soaking through your panties, your cries muffled into his shoulder while your thighs shook around him.

“There ya go, baby,” he praised, holding you through it. “Such a good girl… makin’ a mess for me, just like that…”

You sobbed softly, overwhelmed, heart racing.

Daryl held you close, gently easing your spent body down into the sheets. He kissed your face, your cheeks, your lips, every tear. His fingers brushed your hair back.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, sniffling. “Mhm… sorry…”

“Nah,” he whispered. “Don’t be. You can use me anytime you want, baby. I’ll always take care’a ya.”

He tucked you into his chest, thigh still slick where you’d ridden it, and hummed against your forehead.

Within seconds, you were already asleep again.

And Daryl just smiled.

“Goodnight,” he muttered, pulling the blanket up around you both.

⸻

a/n i have two more daryl smuts sitting in my drafts should i post them guys erm

[madamechrissy]

I Wanna Be Yours

Pairing- Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

Word count- 5.3k

Contents/summary -Cute, fluffy, sweet, some plot, college AU, SMUT lol, friends to lovers- Rating- Explicit- fingering, oral (fem receiving) explicit sex

This was a request for friends to lovers (where you fell first) Satoru is a dummy lol and not much plot, hope you all enjoy!! - Comments and reblogs always appreciated. 💖

Songs for this : Just Friends - Better - Love on the Brain

Satoru Gojo has been your best friend since middle school, he has his big, beefy arm around you now, grinning so pretty, as you both hide under his umbrella. It's raining so hard, pattering along it as you both walk to your dorm together.

"I miss you! You never hang out with me anymore!" He says with a pretty pout, his bright blue eyes wide, in that sad puppy look that always did you in, behind his dark blue shades.

"Well, you're always um... with your girlfriend." You say softly, and Satoru frowns then, his thin white brows together.

"So we can't still be friends?" He says, hurt in his voice, and you sigh, looking away. "I'm friends with Shoko, Mei, even Hime, why can't I be friends with you anymore! She's cool, you know."

"Um, because it's just different, I'm sorry, Satoru. I miss you too, though." He contemplates you then, stopping you in the middle of the road, where cars are driving by and the rain is pattering all over the ground around you.

"Look at me, please." He asks in that husky voice.

You tilt your chin up, looking at the tall, white haired best friend that you'd been in love with for so long. You suck in a breath then, as you realize how close you two are, so close your nipples are brushed against his chest, embarrassingly perked up from the cold air and from... Well, him, Satoru.

"Do you not like her?" He asks, and you shake your head. "It's not that serious, if my best friend thinks she's not a good person-"

"She seems great, Satoru. She's so pretty and sweet and you both look great together." You blink back tears, as he looks even more confused, lips parted as he touches your cheek.

"You're crying? Why what's wrong?" He asks, so fucking clueless, but it's not like you ever confessed to your goofy bestie. You swipe your tears, looking down.

"Not crying, it's the rain."

"We're under an-"

"It's the rain!" You choke on a sob then, and he brushes away a tear, you push his hand down. "You shouldn't do that. You have a girlfriend, Satoru."

"I don't understand, you avoid me all the time, you don't even hang out with the friend group. We all miss you!"

"It hurts too much."

His snowy lashes blink in confusion. "What hurts? I'm so confused, could you please just talk to me? Like we used to tell each other anything, remember that big crush you had on Geto?” He is trying to lighten the mood, smiling at you, and you take a shaky breath.

“I didn’t say I had a crush on Geto.”

“Sure ya did! You said your best friend, that’s either me or Geto silly! And I kept your secret and everything.” He says, and you laugh then, at the absurdity of it.

“Satoru, you're so dense.” You grumble now.

“Ya callin me fat I’m so skinny!?” He asks, his hand on his chest, gasping, as you roll your eyes.

“Oh my God. Let’s just get home.”

“No, we’re standing here until you talk to me again. You’re being a mean little brat, just like in sixth grade!” He yanks on one of your braids now, and earns your scowl, as you cross your arms, still getting pelted by rain, safe under the umbrella.

“You were mean then, always throwing paper balls at me, little shit!”

“Yeah and you would trip me!”

“And you would yank on my hair!”

“Because it’s cute, duh.” He yanks it again, sticking his tongue out, and you stick yours out right back, until he bursts into laughter, shaking his head and bending down as he doubles over.

“What’s so funny?” You demand, and he has to take several breaths, rubbing his eyes at how funny he thinks this is.

“You’re just so adorable when you’re mad.”

You scoff, stomping your foot, your boot splashing in the puddling water below you. “Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Whatever, I’m not going to be close like I was when you’re with a girl, there’s nothing else I’m going to say.”

“So you were never my friend at all.” You turn as you all walk again, and his lip is trembling, making your heart falter.

“I am always your friend, just I can’t be anymore. I’ll always be here if you need me, always care about you, but I can’t.”

“I just don’t understand, would you just-” Satoru grabs your wrist as you run to the awning in front of your dorm, and you can barely hear him as the weather gets insane, the rain pounding now. His big hand, his long fingers around your delicate wrist makes you heat up, exhaling, thighs shifting at how good it feels. “Just stay my friend, I love you, you know.”

Love means something different to Satoru than to you.

You don’t love Satoru Gojo like a ‘friend’ no you’re just in love with him.

“Satoru I am jealous, okay?”

He blinks in confusion. “But I’ll still spend time with you!”

“Not that, I’m jealous of her okay? She’s pretty and popular, and she has you as a boyfriend, you’re popular and handsome. You both work so well. Prom queen and Prom King. And what am I?” He frowns again, his brow furrowing as you try to turn away, and he yanks a braid, making you scowl, shoving at him. “Stop that.”

“You’re pretty, and you have friends, what is this? Why would you be jealous of a girl, you’re not like that, you don’t compare yourself. It’s one of my favorite things about you, that you’re just like one of the guys-”

“I’m not though. I am a girl, I do compare.”

“Why her?” Satoru asks softly, you sigh, eyes shut as you feel yourself falling more and more, hopeless.

“You should ask yourself why. I have to go, Satoru. Thanks for walking me home.”

“Please, just talk to me?” He asks, and you feel those tears return as you have to stay away, you can’t stand to watch the boy you’ve loved for so long so happy, and realize it’s because he sees you as ‘one of the guys’ his ‘bro’ it just hurts too much.

“I do love you, Satoru.” You say softly, looking at him as he’s choked up and emotional, fucking confused surely, and you walk into your dorm, hiding as your back rests on the door.

Shit, you really fucked that up, but you just can’t look at him, his beautiful smile as he’s holding her, as they kiss and she runs her hand through his silky white hair. You’ve had it bad since you met him, since he yanked on your pigtails and you two picked on each other, even then.

Now it’s so much worse.

You hop on Instagram, the first picture is her kissing Satoru’s cheek, and him cheesing and throwing a peace sign, with so many likes it’s unreal, Satoru was crazy popular on Insta, and so was his lovely girlfriend. You couldn’t even hate her because she was so nice, to you as well, she was cool, she was perfect for him, and he seemed so happy.

So you would never ruin it, but you can’t stomach it anymore. Now you get a message, from Suguru, asking you out, and you flush, typing back curiously, he was Satoru’s best friend, so you never would consider it. But then his next message makes you realize his intent, and you call him.

“Suguru! What you’re crazy!” He chuckles over the phone, as you lay on your bed in a huff.

“We all know you got it bad, why not see if he feels the same? Oh and I’ll put on a show too.” You snort at that, rolling over on your tummy, your ankles crossing as you hold the sleek black phone to your ear.

“What you’re gonna kiss me, Suguru? In front of him!”

“I sure will. You’ll love it so much, you’ll want me instead.”

“Pshh. But what if he doesn’t…”

Suguru sighs. “He’s so dense he doesn’t realize he actually has feelings, just trust me, worse comes to worse you get a free meal and a kiss from me.”

You laugh softly. “Oh, fine, I’m in!”

“Perfect, tomorrow night, we’ll head to the same restaurant they are going to, the details are already on IG. Dress sexy.” He purrs those words.

*****

“What… what are you two… Suguru… I…” Satoru is sputtering as you’re cozied up next to Suguru at the fancy sushi bar the next night, and you’re dressed in a sexy little black dress you got just for this. Satoru’s enamored as he takes you in, hair straight and silky, makeup decorating your cheeks, just a bit, and bright red lipstick. “And what are you wearing young lady!?”

“She looks hot.” Satoru’s girlfriend says, winking at you, and fuck she’s just SO NICE ugh. You smile back, standing then and waving at her.

“You look hot too!” You say, she laughs then, clinging to Satoru.

“She’s a grown up, silly. Hey Geto!”

“Hey there.” Geto waves at her too, putting an arm around you, watching Satoru’s face turn dark as he eyes his hand on your bare arm. “It’s good to see you all, but we did want some alone time. First date.”

Satoru’s pretty blue eyes narrow, his lips pursing. “A date!?”

“Yeah, Suguru asked me last night, I figured why not? You know, we’re not kids anymore.” Suguru’s hand goes to your waist, as he turns you to him, smiling, all handsome with his chocolate eyes and long silky hair pulled back. If you weren’t so in love with Satoru, you would crush on Suguru, but no you love this white haired idiot glaring at you both.

“She’s certainly not a kid anymore.” He whistles, eyes raking over your body, and you can feel Satoru’s anger, as his girlfriend giggles at you both.

“You all look so cute together! C’mon Satoru.” She yanks him then, away, and you and Suguru barely hold it together, you’re squealing.

“You think he really likes me!?”

“Course he does, look at our boy, all pouty.” Satoru is pouting over the menu, as his girlfriend is taking selfies next to him, in several poses.

“She’s so pretty…”

“You’re gorgeous, you know.” You melt at that, sighing and hugging Suguru tightly. “Oooh, this is even better, he’s so mad.” Suguru whispers, and you can’t stop your little smirk.

You all go about the evening, as Satoru’s eyes dart between you both, and soon Suguru’s phone is blinging, and he’s smirking as he leans back and reads them. “What is it!” You whisper.

“Oh he’s so mad at me. He’s furious. Lemme tell him to pay attention to his girlfriend. Ah- look.” You look over at Satoru, rolling his eyes and slouching back in his booth now, as his girlfriend pokes away on her phone, showing him various things. “All right, finale, love.”

“Finale?” You ask curiously, and Suguru grins, devious. “Oh shit, the kiss!”

“Hush, you’re bad at this. It’s a secret mission!” You giggle again, nodding.

“You probably just wanna kiss me.” You tease, and he brushes his hair back, winking as he leans in.

“Probably that and I wanna piss off Satoru. C’mon now, make it look real.” You sigh and nervously scooch forward, pressing your lips to Suguru’s. His lips are firm and warm, and his arms wrap around you, as you feel Satoru’s gaze burning a hole. You pull back, as he looks to his side. “Oh yeah.”

“Yeah? Let’s…” You yank him down again, kissing him fully, and Suguru is laughing against your lips, as your tongues awkwardly play together, and he’s grabbing your hip, pulling you closer.

Suddenly Satoru has walked past you all, and ‘accidentally’ has spilled a drink on your table. He grins, but he looks psychotic, his bright blue eyes so vivid they’re hard to look at. “Oops, sorry guys, just wanted to say bye! Did I interrupt?”

You grab a bunch of napkins, and Suguru is just laughing, as you rub your dress down, standing. “Shit, this is brand new!”

“Well you should be more careful. Plus, that’s not enough fabric to cover anything, gonna get a cold.” Satoru says, bending down and glaring at your exposed shoulders and chest. You glare back.

“I look pretty, thank you!”

“Yeah you do, you always do though. But…” He pauses then, blinking a bit, and then he just… walks away.

What a mess, you think, as Suguru is helping you clean your dress, and Satoru doesn’t even come back.

*****

You wake up that night to a knock on your door, you yawn, as it keeps getting louder and louder. “Oh god, hold on I’m coming.”

Satoru is there, and he’s so serious, you wipe your eyes, so bleary, as you stand there in your pajamas, his eyes rove over them, you’re in a little black crop and kitty shorts, barely covered. But Satoru had seen you like this plenty, you all had stayed nights at each other’s houses and everything, but something feels… different? His eyes rake over your body, and you tense up nervously, as you feel his energy radiating in your little dorm room.

"Toru, what is it? It's like what time?" You say softly, and he shuts the door behind him, pressing you too close, you take a step back.

Satoru says nothing, and you yawn, stretching and gesturing for him to come sit on your little gray couch.

"You always come here when you can't sleep. You need some cocoa, don't you?" You tease, heading to your kitchen and putting a pod of cocoa in your keurig you keep for Satoru. "Your girlfriend should have cocoa for you-"

Satoru is not saying a word, but now he's brushing your messy hair back off your neck, standing beside you in the kitchen, as the machine presses out the hot cocoa, you gasp, hands gripping the kitchen counter. You bite your lower lip, as he's bending low, his hands on either side of yours, hard body pressed against your back, and you can  feel the heat of his body, his breath tickling your neck.

"What are you up to, are you drunk?" You ask, your voice breathy as you take his cup, the pretty blue one you've kept here. Before Satoru's girlfriend you'd spent endless nights watching movies and talking, even falling asleep on the couch together. You always wondered if he'd make a move, do something... he never did.

Satoru's hand trails down a bare shoulder, and his touch makes you ache with longing, goosebumps running down your arm, a trail of them in his wake. You bite your lower lip, shifting your thighs, feeling such pressure between them, as your eyelashes flutter shut, it feels so good to have him touch you like this. It's almost as if you can picture...

"What'd you have, one fruity drink and you're all touchy? Stop that." You smack at his hand, turning and holding out the cocoa, and he sets it down on the counter, jaw clenched. "Satoru, what-"

His lips descend on yours before you can finish your sentence, kissing you for the first time, and you melt against him, melt in his arms, as you taste his sweet breath, as he cups your face with his big hands. You're whimpering softly, and he uses that opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, swirling against your own, and then you really taste him. And fuck he tastes good.

You're tiptoeing as he's pressing you against the counter, kissing you more and more passionately, finally pulling away and leaving you breathless, leaving you stupid. You exhale, shaky hands clinging to his dress shirt and looking up at him with wide eyes, as his own get lidded, snowy lashes low over his brilliant irises, studying you carefully.

This wasn't goofy, silly Gojo.

This wasn't Gojo who didn't ever shut up.

This wasn't your best 'buddy' Gojo right now.

You shake yourself out of your reverie, as he finally says a word for the first time since walking in here. "Fuck."

Eloquent.

You shove at him then, scowling, but you feel his hard body under your fingers. "What is this, some joke? You're dating, we can't kiss or do anything!"

"I broke up with her." You blink rapidly now in confusion, mouth ajar, as he sighs, running his hand through your hair. "When I saw you with Suguru, I hated it, so much. I hated seeing you kiss someone, and then I realized... that I have had feelings for you. It's why I have scared every guy off."

"You what now!?"

"None of them were good enough, I told myself, that I was just being a good friend for you. But Suguru... he is good enough for you, so why did it irk me? Why did it make me sick to my stomach?"

You feel tears well up as he speaks, as he's so serious, and not a dense little idiot. No, he's opening up, and he's saying words you dreamed of. Your lips tremble so badly you bite them, and he sighs, thumb releasing your lower lip from your teeth's grip gently.

"I hated seeing you with her. It made me so sick I couldn't hang out with you anymore." You say softly, and he sighs, pressing even closer, bending down low, looming over you, taking over you.

"That's what you meant yesterday, yeah? I'm stupid."

"You are."

"Hey!" You laugh then, even as he's swiping your tears gently away. "I always had a crush on you but I never wanted to ruin our friendship, fuck you're as close to me as Suguru. I can't imagine not sharing my day, not hearing about yours. I never wanted to fuck that up. And what if I do, if you are my girlfriend, what if I fuck up, make you mad, make you upset-"

"Satoru, stop. Look at me." He does then, as you finally get to cup his beautiful face in your hands, and he nuzzles one so sweetly, making you melt. "If you fuck something up we can fix it. If I fuck something up, we can fix it. Just like as friends sometimes you pissed me off, or I did, we didn't just give up. But are you sure you want to date, take this step?"

"I want to do a lot more than date." He whispers, running a hand down your tummy where it's bare, and your back arches when his hand dances to your hip. "I wanna touch you everywhere, kiss you everywhere, places I've dreamed of."

"Dreamed of me?" You whisper back, and he nods, kissing down your jaw, peppering it with little popping sounds from his lips, as your nipples harden in your tank, and his other hand slides down one of your breasts, brushing against it.

"Can you forgive me for being an idiot? Would you date me?" He asks then, and you can't stop your tears.

"Toru you're the biggest idiot, because I've been in love with you since I met you, since you threw a damn spitball at me, little shit." Now he has emotion in his eyes, gulping before he smiles so brightly.

"I had such good aim!"

"Shut up!" He laughs then, and he picks you up in his arms with such ease, making out with you again, as his cocoa goes cold, carrying you to your bedroom, shoving all your plushies to the floor. "Hey now, rule number one, plushies stay."

"You've had sex already!? I'm so angry." He says with a pout and you giggle, rolling your eyes.

"Well, was I supposed to wait for you to get the hint? It's been years."

"Yes!"

"And you waited?"

"Well no. But... fine then, I'll just have to make you forget anyone else." He says softly, fingers brushing your shorts to the side, feeling you so wet, and he moans at that, licking an already glossy lip as you gasp, clinging to him.

"And will I make you forget anyone? Including your pretty Insta baddie?" You tease softly, and he smirks then, sliding a thumb up to circle your clit, eyes never leaving your face, watching every expression. You can't stop the soft moan from leaving your mouth.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're so pretty like this." He says, and you're pulling his face down, kissing him as he does slide his fingers in, to the hilt, and you're crying out at how good it feels. He moans softly into your lips, biting your lower one. "You gonna make me forget huh?"

"Sure will- ah!" Satoru's pressing his fingers up now, on that little spot that has you seeing stars, and you’re dripping wetness down his fingers, down his hands, you hear it so squishy in your quiet room. He’s exhaling as he's sliding your top up, whistling when your tits bounce out.

"Holy fuck you're perfect." He whispers, bending down to suck a nipple into his hot eager mouth, and you're clinging to his snowy white hair. "Think I forgot any tits I've ever seen."

"Liar." You tease, reaching down his hard abdomen, eagerly unbuttoning his shirt. "We're gonna fuck on the first date? That's against my rules, Toru."

"You'll make an exception for me, won't ya pretty?" He bats his lashes as you slide the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the beautiful hard planes of his body, chiseled to perfection. You exhale, hands shaking as you touch him, slipping down the white hair under his belly button, your eyes locking with him. "Ah- ah, I'll eat you out first, I'm a gentleman you know."

"And I'm a lady, I'll suck you first." You tease back, as he grabs your wrist, turning you and slipping your shorts off, pressing you down against the bed, your thighs spread, ass up in the air, and he can see you, he can see you wide open. He sighs, bending low to bite on your ass cheek playfully. “Toru!”

“Your pussy is so pretty, I knew it would be.” He’s kissing your lips now, covered in your slick already, and you’re shaking, thighs barely able to hold yourself up as he parts your folds with his thumbs, opening you up and then burying his face against you, making you scream out.

“Oh my… fuck!” You’re a mess when he laps his tongue along your slit, god it feels better than anything you can imagine, and he’s moaning, popping a little kiss on the hood of your clit.

“You taste s’good, sweetheart, s’fucking good.” He murmurs, smacking your ass now, and you jump and twitch, head falling back, he leans up, pulling your hair and your head is tilted back to him, and he’s kissing you. “Taste yourself?”

You just nod, whining, and he smiles, letting you go, pressing your head down into your soft bed, pushing your hips up and spreading you even wider. “What’re you d-doing?”

“Need to see every fucking bit of you, best friend, been hiding perfect pussy, perfect body from me? Terrible friend.” He licks up your pussy again, from your clit to your little ass hole as you cling to the blankets, whining at how good it feels, then he’s fucking you with that long tongue, and you’re gushing out wetness, pussy pulsing around it.

“And you were… holding that tongue back? How dare you. Ah!” He’s chuckling, vibrating against you, but then he is devouring you, there’s no other word for it, he’s pressing your waist down with one hand as his other grabs your thigh, and he’s scooping out all that wetness with his stupidly talented tongue. You’re close so quick it’s fucking embarrassing.

No guy had eaten you out like this, you had a few guys do it, and of course it felt good, but Satoru was on some other level, so good you’re mad anyone else has gotten to feel this before you. So good you can’t imagine not having it again, can’t imagine anything could feel so fucking intense, as he brings you higher and higher, his moans just urging you on.

“M’close, Toru…” You whine, so nervous, so much pressure in your tummy, he pulls away for a moment, biting your inner thigh, nipping the skin between his sharp teeth.

“Cum for me, sweetheart, let me drink you please?” He whispers, and you can see his damn pout, his big puppy eyes even as your face is buried in the blanket. “Can you do it, be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Cumming!” You scream out now, and Satoru Gojo, your best friend, is drinking it up, as it rocks your entire body, leaving you weak. He’s leaned up now, shoving two fingers in, and you hiss at the stretch, crying out at how good it feels, especially when he’s yanking you up by your hair, on your knees. “Toru!”

“Mmm, forget anyone else already?” He whispers against your ear, and you nod weakly. “Gonna need you to say it, bestie.”

“F-forgot anyone ever. S’much better. You’re s’much better.” You’re mumbling as you speak, head leaning back against him, rocking on his fingers, and he chuckles against your ear, tickling it.

“Cumming again just from this?” His husky voice does more and more, as his cocky nature mixed with his talented fingers are wrecking you. “You’re so weak here, aren’t you?”

“Mnh, cocky little- shit!” You’re cumming all over his hand, shaking violently, and Satoru’s groaning, easing his fingers out, sliding them in your mouth now, shoving so deep you feel tears start to fall, gagging you as you suck them eagerly. He looks at you, desire making his eyes so dilated all you see is a ring of blue, his pouty lips parted.

“Oh fuck you’re so pretty like this, in tears.” Satoru whispers, and you’re trying to turn then, to kiss down his body, to suck him, but he’s got an arm around your waist and you’re hearing his belt buckle. “Can’t wait, need to feel ya around me, baby.”

“Lemme suck you, meanie.” You glare back at him, and he chuckles, white teeth glinting in the evening, in your dark room with just the hint of moonlight streaming in. Satoru shocks you then, flipping you over on your back, and you see his beautiful length, thick and long with a pink tip, weeping with pearly precum. You try to stroke him but he grabs your wrist, putting it over your head.

“I’ll bust quick if you touch it, I’m too excited.” He says then, glaring down at you, and you let out a breathy laugh, but it’s cut off when he lifts a thigh, and presses into your entrance. You gasp, clinging to him as he fills you so full, just the tip at first and Satoru is moaning over you, eyes locking on yours. “Oh my god…”

“Oh my god…” You whisper at the same time, then he pushes in further, every motion you make does not escape him, his eyes are all over you, and his own eyes flutter shut for a moment as he sinks in, further and further. Finally he’s so deep his tip is hitting your cervix, and you feel so intensely it’s as if you can’t breathe. “Satoru! Satoru… Satoru…”

“Fuck you feel s’good, sweetheart. S’fuckin… ah!” He’s crying out too when you tentatively roll your hips, then he’s gripping your hips tightly, thumbs pressing into your hip bones, shoving them down into the mattress. “Don’t do that!”

You laugh, breathless, reaching up and cupping his perfect face, the face you’ve loved so long. “Don’t move?”

“Don’t yet. Ah- ah- ah.” He’s stroking in and out of you now, groaning, his thickness stretching you, and you’re clinging to his back, nails digging in, and Satoru is whimpering, he’s fucking whimpering again, and it’s so sexy, it’s so hot. How into you he is, how he’s so vulnerable, as he rests his forehead on yours, exhaling. “You’re made for me.”

“Am I, Satoru?” You whisper, and he nods then, making you choke up. “When you say that… ah! It means… more than-”

“I want it… fuck… to mean more.” He answers, pumping inside, as you hear the squelching wetness of your slutty little cunt sucking him in, even though he’s stretching you so much you can’t take it. She wants him, you want him, as he’s rolling his hips, muscles flexing with every thrust. “This means so much. It does, it does.”

“It does for me too. It does, it does.” You are crying now, as he kisses your lips, swiping his thumbs across your cheeks, his lashes so long they tickle your own cheeks, his tongue moving in the same rhythm his cock is.

Now Satoru raises one of your thighs, looking at you carefully. “Can you take it harder baby? Can’t hold back.” You nod then he moans, and now he’s fucking harder, faster, slapping of skin so loud with every thrust that shakes your bed, and your head falls back as you start to build up again. He’s got a hand under your chin, pressing on your pulse points, moaning. “That’s it, lemme feel you pretty girl.”

At his urging, at him squeezing your throat, you’re cumming all over Satoru Gojo’s thick, veiny cock, and he’s moaning, his blue eyes so vivid, the pupils just pinpoints, as he kisses you everywhere he can reach. He slides your hand then, putting your fingertip on your clit, and you whine at the overstimulation, still weak from cumming so much.

“Play with it, please, let me feel you cum again.” He asks breathlessly, and you weakly rub your clit, soaking wet and twitching as Satoru pumps in and out of your cunt over and over, making you feel like you can’t focus on this realm anymore, you’re floating somewhere, heady and dazed. “You’re so beautiful, my god.”

“Love you, sorry, love you.” You can’t hold it in anymore, and he shakes his head, as he’s pumping more and more, and you feel him thickening, pulsing.

“I love you.” You cry then, even as you feel so much pleasure, so overwhelmed as he’s got your thighs pressed up, as he’s cupping your face. “I love you too. I love you, I love you.”

“Satoru… love you so much. Always.” You whisper back, eagerly kissing him as your hands clutch the blankets below you, and Satoru is emotional above you, his tears and sweat dripping down your face.

“Wanna cum in you. Please.” He begs then, and you nod, as he fucks you even harder, slamming his lips against yours, chasing his own release. “Oh my fucking… oh my god, you feel… oh my…”

Satoru’s pumping cum inside you so deep, and you’re crying out as it makes you cum, just his thick white ribbons streaming through your pussy, coating your walls that are fluttering around him. He exhales, as you’re a twitching mess under him, pumping his cum deeper as he caresses your face, grinning at you, a sweaty, sexy mess above you now.

“I love your pussy oh my god.” He says, and you giggle, struggling to come to as you realize with a blush that his cum is dripping down you.

“I love everything about you, Satoru, I always have.” He kisses you over and over, your face, your cheeks, your lips.

“I was so stupid, I’ll make it all up to you.” He’s leaning up on his elbows, shoving two fingers in your pussy again, and you cry out, back arching, for him to suck on your nipples, moaning.

“Satoru, it’s too much…”

“I have so much making up to do. Aw, are you cryin again? Fuck you’re pretty doing that.” He smirks down at your tear streaked face, then you wonder just what you’ve gotten yourself into with Satoru Gojo.

Gojo Drabbles/ one shots - Masterlist