#this turned out way longer than i mean it to but oh well

[blackmissfrizzle]

MUTT

Pairings: Shifter!Terry x black!reader

Summary: The reader's friends try to convince the reader that Terry has feelings for her.

Warnings: None really, but girls just being girls. Oh, there's not too much Terry, but I promise you'll love it.

A/N: I think we all were feeling something after that thirst trap. It won an Oscar at my house lol

Click here for the Shifter!Terry masterlist and here for my complete masterlist.

Dinner with the girls was a necessity. Just like food, water, shelter, and a relationship with God. It was a form of self-care and could almost pull you out of the deepest of funks. Serena and Trisha were for your besties for life and you could tell them anything. Well, almost anything. The fact that the supernatural was real and Terry was a big ass dragon shifter was something that you had to keep under wraps.

If Terry hadn’t made you promise to keep his secret, your girls would’ve been knew. There was nothing that was kept a secret between y’all for too long. Big headed ass Terry and his damn rules. You told him they wouldn’t say anything, but of course it was “too much of a risk.”

“Anyways, I blocked that nigga on IG finally. He no longer has any access to me.” Trish finished her story about her on again, off again ex, Donovan. It pulled you from your thoughts of Terry, because she never blocked him off of everything. She must be serious this time.

Serena smirked while sipping on her third espresso martini. Her dark mocha eyes held a hint of mischief, which meant she was about to be messy. “Speaking of Instagram, did y’all see Terry’s story?”

“You mean his bat signal for YN to not go out with us after dinner and go snuggle up under him?” The two laughed and clinked glasses.

“What are you two heifers talking about?” They were insistent that Terry wanted to be more than friends with you, but they didn’t know what you knew. Terry has a fated mate. He had told you she was nearby.

Serena fingers tapped on her phone and then she turned the screen towards you. Leon Thomas’, ‘Mutt’ was playing, but the video contrasted the song. There was Terry in a beanie, grey sweater, and black hoochie daddy shorts doing weighted box squats. “Pause,” Serena couldn’t hide her giddiness. “This isn’t even the best part.”

What does she mean this is not the best part? How does it get better? He could be naked. These were inappropriate thoughts to be having about your best friend. It wasn’t your fault! Terry was just fine and then his print could not help but poke out, so you knew the man was packing some heat.

Your jaw dropped at the picture Serena revealed. Terry was sitting down, quads popping, beard moisturized, imposing shoulders, and blocking the aforementioned print.

“Damn bitch, are you about to lick my screen?” Serena cackled and Trisha joined her.

“Oh, fuck you!” You threw back without any venom.

“You need to be fucking that man!” Trisha pointed at Serena’s phone. “My mama said if you don’t ride that man, she will.”

Mama Wilma was too much. She was the one you could talk to about men and romance that you couldn’t talk to your Baptist mama about. With that being said, she was always trying to get you to fuck someone. “An orgasm a day, keeps the doctor.” And don’t try to correct her on the saying, she believes her is the original statement.

“Tell yo mama, that she can fuck him. He needs someone to turn him out.”

Both of your besties shared a silent look and then busted out laughing, causing some other patrons to look at your table, but none of you cared. “Imma hold your hand when I say this,” Trisha reached across the table and held your hand. “That man would turn my freaky ass mama out, not the other way around. Its those quiet niggas you gotta worry about. They be slanging dick like they’re Jason Luv.”

“Got you acting like a crack addict once you get the dick.” Serena added her two cents.

“Have you outside his job when he don’t answer your phone call.” Trisha shuddered. “Good dick is a prison.”

Your friends were extra as fuck, but not wrong. Good dick would make a woman act out of character. Especially good dick connected to a good man. One moment you’re screaming lyrics to Megan thee Stallion’s B.A.S. and in the next you’re singing along to Destiny Child’s Cater 2 U. There was no doubt, Terry would have a woman acting like this. Just not you. Even if he was down for an FWB type relationship, you would turn it down. No need to turn into Joe from You.

“Whatever woman that bags Terry Richmond will be a lucky woman, but she ain’t me. I told y’all we’re just friends.”

Serena ginger curls bounced as she shook her head. “Y’all are just friends, because of- I love you, friend, but you and that fine specimen of a man are only friends because of yo dumbass. YN, its evident to even blind ass Mr. Burleson, that Terry wants you. The way he looks at makes me feel like I’m intruding on something intimate.”

“Man wants to knock the Sonic coins out of you and then make you a bowl of ice cream. Lucky ass bitch and you want to be in denial. A shame.” Trisha tsked. “What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing. I’m just not what he’s looking for and we’re better as friends.”

“Thank God, he ain’t giving up on yo ass.” Serena gave you a kind smile. “One day you’re gonna look back on this and ask yourself how you could’ve been so blind. Don’t keep running from your destiny. This blessing has been a long time coming. You deserve to be loved like you’re a Kennedy Ryan main character.”

Leave it to Serena to turn jokes into a heartfelt moment. That witchy bitch knew exactly what she was doing. “As long as I can be Hen. Yasmen and Soledad got them damn kids. I’m the fun, childless auntie. The rich part is coming soon though.”

“Shit, the way Terry will be treating you, you’ll be like Yasmen,” You arched your eyebrow at Trisha. “…at the end of the book, of course.” She quickly fixed that statement.

As planned, the three of you hit up a lounge, because you were not standing up in anyone’s club with these heels on. If need be, y’all could stand up and dance and promptly sit back down without paying the outrageous fees for a section.

It was great to have drinks and dance on your friends, but in the back of your mind you didn’t mind being on Terry’s couch watching a black classic you hadn’t seen, since your mama didn’t raise you right, Terry’s words not yours.

“Oh shit!” Trisha squealed when she saw Terry’s text. “Daddy’s checking in!”

Terry: You better be safe while you’re out. Don’t let anyone give you a drink without watching the bartender, be aware of your surroundings, and notate every exit. The groin, eyes, and nose are the most sensitive areas of attack. Disorient first and then run, but if you can’t run fight, but you cannot hesitate.

Serena took your phone to read it all. “Damn, I got wet just reading this. See he knows how to take care of a woman. Girl, you need to tell him to teach you how to fight and y’all can ‘spar’”

You snatched your phone back. “He’s already doing that. And the nigga is cruel! I could probably join the marines right now with flying colors. Muthafucker got me doing jiu jitsu.”

You: 🫡Yes sir! Shall I send you a report?

Terry: Nah, you can tell me when you come over after y’all are done. I’m still up and my place is closer than yours is and I don’t want you driving this late.

You: T, I’m good. I haven’t drunk that much and the girls still have to get home too.

Terry: Come over. Serena and Trisha don’t live that far from each other and they’re still closer than you. They have each other. Have them drop you off at my place and I’ll take you to pick up your car tomorrow.

“He’s a good man, Savannah!” Both women said simultaneously.

You rolled your eyes at your friends and then purposefully left Terry on read. He was treating you like some damn child. Now you did land yourself in some questionable situations, but that was only sometimes.

Terry: Don’t make me come down there and pick yo ass up. Answer me, YN.

“Shit, don’t answer him! I wanna see if he’s gonna do it!” Trisha shimmied. “This is better than whatever I’m reading right now.”

You didn’t respond to her or Terry. He could kiss your black ass.

Terry: 10

You:

Terry 9

You:

Terry: 8

You:

Terry: 7. Keep playing with me, YN.

You:

Terry: 6

You:

Terry: 5. Alright, I’m putting on my sweats.

You:

Terry: 4

You:

Terry: 3

“Oh, you brave!” Serena took a shot. “Go on and listen to Trisha and you gonna fuck around and find out. That man will have you tied up somewhere, screaming out ungodly things.”

You:

Terry: 2. I got my keys in my hand. Imma be pissed if I gotta go out in this cold, baby girl.

You: …

Your finger typed and erased the words, hoping to stall Terry, but his text came in at the same time.

Terry: 1.

You: Damn it! Okay, I’ll come over. You lucky I got my spend the night bag with me.

Terry: Good girl. Text me when you leave and when you’re outside.

You: I’ll just knock on your door.

Terry: TEXT ME.

You: OKAY BOSSY!

“Bitch, you better than me! I would’ve told him make me.” Trisha stuck her tongue out.

“Because you’re a maschoist.” Serena eyed Trisha like she was crazy.

“No, I’m a brat and you’re a good girl. I’m telling you that punishment don’t be feeling like punishment at the end of the night.”

“Both of y’all bitches are nastyyy!” You did your best Raven Baxter impression. “He wasn’t gonna do shit but drag me put of this lounge.”

Trisha grabbed both of your cheeks so all of your attention was on her. She was a little bit past tipsy. “Yeah, because you won’t let him do anything else. Ball is in your court, baby girl.”

The night went on without any interruptions from Terry Richmond. You consumed far more drinks than you decided on, since you weren’t driving home and maybe it gave you some liquid courage to face Terry. This wouldn’t be the first time you spent the night at his place, but your friend’s advice swirled around in your mind. Could Terry be interested in something more? Nah, that was the liquor talking and your friends being good friends by pumping your head up.

As requested, or as ordered, you text Terry once y’all left and once you arrived in front of his house. The last part was unnecessary because he was already waiting outside for you.

“Hey Terry!” The girls sang. Trisha’s greeting was evidently more slurred than Serena’s.

“Hey ladies,” he laughed, grabbed your bag then opened your door. “Y’all have a good night?” His hand didn’t leave you and he kept you pretty close to his body. Probably to shield you from the cold.

“Yeah except, we didn’t find husbands.” Serena put a thumb down.

“But a few guys were looking YN’s way. Trisha’s messy ass added in.

“Word?” Terry questioning eyes bored into yours, before they added warmth and turned back to your friends. “She gotta tell me about it.”

He leaned his arm against the car and lowered his head to be eye level with Serena. “You good to drive back home? If not, you can stay here. I got more than enough room or I can get y’all an uber.”

Did Serena blush? No one made this bitch blush. “No, we’re good. Thank you though. I’m letting drunky spend the night with me.”

“Alright. Y’all text YN when you get in safely.” He tapped the top of the car, and they drove off. Both of y’all waved them off and watched the car until it disappeared.

Trisha: Oooo, he’s a gentleman. I damn near wanted to say ‘Yes daddy’, but I’ll leave that to you.

You:  Bye hoe! Text me later.

Trisha: Love you too. Serena said she was gonna tell you to make sure he wraps it up, but she forgot it was Terry we were talking about.

You: BYE!!!

“They acting a fool in the group chat?” Terry opened his door for you.

“Per usual. So why did you demand me here?”

--

Because he couldn’t risk you to be in some other nigga’s bed. Terry was hesitant to tell you about you being his mate, but he couldn’t have it in the back of his mind, you potentially being in bed with another man. He would crash out and burn down this whole town, so he needed to avoid that crisis. “I told you. Its safer for you to be here tonight. There’s been a rise in drunk drivers and your drive is too isolated for this late at night.” Nice save, Terry. You quickly agreed.

“May I help you?” He swore you were made from fire with the little attitude you had. Terry handed you a water and continued to appreciate the dress you had on. The green dress was similar to the color of his scales and complimented your skin so well. It hugged your curves, but loose. You paired it with some tights and knee-high boots. No wonder men were looking at you.

“Go change.” It hurt him to say that, but he knew your feet were killing you.

“In a bit.” You sat in one of his stools. Terry took the opportunity to take off your boots. “God,” you moaned and he had to pretend that did not affect him. “Beauty comes at a price.”

“You’re already beautiful.”

“You’re too sweet.” You slid off the chair, but Terry decided to carry you instead.

“I got you.” Your duffle hung off his shoulder as he carried you to the guestroom. “I’ll be downstairs watching tv if you want to stay up for a bit. Or you can just stay up here and sleep.”

“Thanks T.” You smiled and it made it worth it by irritating you earlier. A couple of facial muscles and 32 teeth just made his fucking night. Terry heard from other dragons that found their mates and thought they were overexaggerating, but one look at you changed his mind. Damn, he loved how you rolled your eyes, even though he wished he had them rolling for a different reason. Only if he could find a way to tell you the truth without scaring you.

Terry was about to go to bed when you came downstairs. Hair already tucked into a bonnet, face cleared of makeup, and an oversized tee and you were the most beautiful woman to him. “Took you long enough.” He needed to say something other than his confession. Telling you that you were his mate after a night out with the girls wasn’t ideal.

“You always got something smart to say.” You sat down right next to him and laid your head on his shoulder. “Its like you’re my own personal space heater. Do all dragons run hot?”

“Most do. There are dragons from colder climates that can breathe ice.” Terry went on a tangent, because one, he didn’t have anyone else to talk about dragons with, but also two, you were inquisitive and loved hearing more about his people.

The mini lecture had made its way to the dragons of London when Terry heard the first snore. He wasn’t offended at all. Each time you fell asleep near him it brought him joy, because it meant you trusted him wholeheartedly.

Terry made sure not to disturb your rest as he carried you upstairs. He stopped directly in between his room and yours. The right thing to do was to open your door and deposit you on the bed and go back to his room. But for once, Terry didn’t want to do the right thing and it didn’t help that his dragon agreed. “We protect our treasure.”

Being true to his dragon nature, Terry took you to his room and laid you on his bed. He curled up right behind you, not bothering to pull the covers over yet. Him and his dragon were at peace. Only now he had to worry about is how to get you in his bed forever.

It was great to have drinks and dance on your friends, but in the back of your mind you didn’t mind being on Terry’s couch watching a black classic you hadn’t seen, since your mama didn’t raise you right, Terry’s words not yours.

“Oh shit!” Trisha squealed when she saw Terry’s text. “Daddy’s checking in!”

Terry: You better be safe while you’re out. Don’t let anyone give you a drink without watching the bartender, be aware of your surroundings, and notate every exit. The groin, eyes, and nose are the most sensitive areas of attack. Disorient first and then run, but if you can’t run fight, but you cannot hesitate.

Serena took your phone to read it all. “Damn, I got wet just reading this. See he knows how to take care of a woman. Girl, you need to tell him to teach you how to fight and y’all can ‘spar’”

You snatched your phone back. “He’s already doing that. And the nigga is cruel! I could probably join the marines right now with flying colors. Muthafucker got me doing jiu jitsu.”

You: 🫡Yes sir! Shall I send you a report?

Terry: Nah, you can tell me when you come over after y’all are done. I’m still up and my place is closer than yours is and I don’t want you driving this late.

You: T, I’m good. I haven’t drunk that much and the girls still have to get home too.

Terry: Come over. Serena and Trisha don’t live that far from each other and they’re still closer than you. They have each other. Have them drop you off at my place and I’ll take you to pick up your car tomorrow.

“He’s a good man, Savannah!” Both women said simultaneously.

You rolled your eyes at your friends and then purposefully left Terry on read. He was treating you like some damn child. Now you did land yourself in some questionable situations, but that was only sometimes.

Terry: Don’t make me come down there and pick yo ass up. Answer me, YN.

“Shit, don’t answer him! I wanna see if he’s gonna do it!” Trisha shimmied. “This is better than whatever I’m reading right now.”

You didn’t respond to her or Terry. He could kiss your black ass.

Terry: 10

You:

Terry 9

You:

Terry: 8

You:

Terry: 7. Keep playing with me, YN.

You:

Terry: 6

You:

Terry: 5. Alright, I’m putting on my sweats.

You:

Terry: 4

You:

Terry: 3

“Oh, you brave!” Serena took a shot. “Go on and listen to Trisha and you gonna fuck around and find out. That man will have you tied up somewhere, screaming out ungodly things.”

You:

Terry: 2. I got my keys in my hand. Imma be pissed if I gotta go out in this cold, baby girl.

You: …

Your finger typed and erased the words, hoping to stall Terry, but his text came in at the same time.

Terry: 1.

You: Damn it! Okay, I’ll come over. You lucky I got my spend the night bag with me.

Terry: Good girl. Text me when you leave and when you’re outside.

You: I’ll just knock on your door.

Terry: TEXT ME.

You: OKAY BOSSY!

“Bitch, you better than me! I would’ve told him make me.” Trisha stuck her tongue out.

“Because you’re a maschoist.” Serena eyed Trisha like she was crazy.

“No, I’m a brat and you’re a good girl. I’m telling you that punishment don’t be feeling like punishment at the end of the night.”

“Both of y’all bitches are nastyyy!” You did your best Raven Baxter impression. “He wasn’t gonna do shit but drag me put of this lounge.”

Trisha grabbed both of your cheeks so all of your attention was on her. She was a little bit past tipsy. “Yeah, because you won’t let him do anything else. Ball is in your court, baby girl.”

The night went on without any interruptions from Terry Richmond. You consumed far more drinks than you decided on, since you weren’t driving home and maybe it gave you some liquid courage to face Terry. This wouldn’t be the first time you spent the night at his place, but your friend’s advice swirled around in your mind. Could Terry be interested in something more? Nah, that was the liquor talking and your friends being good friends by pumping your head up.

As requested, or as ordered, you text Terry once y’all left and once you arrived in front of his house. The last part was unnecessary because he was already waiting outside for you.

“Hey Terry!” The girls sang. Trisha’s greeting was evidently more slurred than Serena’s.

“Hey ladies,” he laughed, grabbed your bag then opened your door. “Y’all have a good night?” His hand didn’t leave you and he kept you pretty close to his body. Probably to shield you from the cold.

“Yeah except, we didn’t find husbands.” Serena put a thumb down.

“But a few guys were looking YN’s way. Trisha’s messy ass added in.

“Word?” Terry questioning eyes bored into yours, before they added warmth and turned back to your friends. “She gotta tell me about it.”

He leaned his arm against the car and lowered his head to be eye level with Serena. “You good to drive back home? If not, you can stay here. I got more than enough room or I can get y’all an uber.”

Did Serena blush? No one made this bitch blush. “No, we’re good. Thank you though. I’m letting drunky spend the night with me.”

“Alright. Y’all text YN when you get in safely.” He tapped the top of the car, and they drove off. Both of y’all waved them off and watched the car until it disappeared.

Trisha: Oooo, he’s a gentleman. I damn near wanted to say ‘Yes daddy’, but I’ll leave that to you.

You:  Bye hoe! Text me later.

Trisha: Love you too. Serena said she was gonna tell you to make sure he wraps it up, but she forgot it was Terry we were talking about.

You: BYE!!!

“They acting a fool in the group chat?” Terry opened his door for you.

“Per usual. So why did you demand me here?”

--

Because he couldn’t risk you to be in some other nigga’s bed. Terry was hesitant to tell you about you being his mate, but he couldn’t have it in the back of his mind, you potentially being in bed with another man. He would crash out and burn down this whole town, so he needed to avoid that crisis. “I told you. Its safer for you to be here tonight. There’s been a rise in drunk drivers and your drive is too isolated for this late at night.” Nice save, Terry. You quickly agreed.

“May I help you?” He swore you were made from fire with the little attitude you had. Terry handed you a water and continued to appreciate the dress you had on. The green dress was similar to the color of his scales and complimented your skin so well. It hugged your curves, but loose. You paired it with some tights and knee-high boots. No wonder men were looking at you.

“Go change.” It hurt him to say that, but he knew your feet were killing you.

“In a bit.” You sat in one of his stools. Terry took the opportunity to take off your boots. “God,” you moaned and he had to pretend that did not affect him. “Beauty comes at a price.”

“You’re already beautiful.”

“You’re too sweet.” You slid off the chair, but Terry decided to carry you instead.

“I got you.” Your duffle hung off his shoulder as he carried you to the guestroom. “I’ll be downstairs watching tv if you want to stay up for a bit. Or you can just stay up here and sleep.”

“Thanks T.” You smiled and it made it worth it by irritating you earlier. A couple of facial muscles and 32 teeth just made his fucking night. Terry heard from other dragons that found their mates and thought they were overexaggerating, but one look at you changed his mind. Damn, he loved how you rolled your eyes, even though he wished he had them rolling for a different reason. Only if he could find a way to tell you the truth without scaring you.

Terry was about to go to bed when you came downstairs. Hair already tucked into a bonnet, face cleared of makeup, and an oversized tee and you were the most beautiful woman to him. “Took you long enough.” He needed to say something other than his confession. Telling you that you were his mate after a night out with the girls wasn’t ideal.

“You always got something smart to say.” You sat down right next to him and laid your head on his shoulder. “Its like you’re my own personal space heater. Do all dragons run hot?”

“Most do. There are dragons from colder climates that can breathe ice.” Terry went on a tangent, because one, he didn’t have anyone else to talk about dragons with, but also two, you were inquisitive and loved hearing more about his people.

The mini lecture had made its way to the dragons of London when Terry heard the first snore. He wasn’t offended at all. Each time you fell asleep near him it brought him joy, because it meant you trusted him wholeheartedly.

Terry made sure not to disturb your rest as he carried you upstairs. He stopped directly in between his room and yours. The right thing to do was to open your door and deposit you on the bed and go back to his room. But for once, Terry didn’t want to do the right thing and it didn’t help that his dragon agreed. “We protect our treasure.”

Being true to his dragon nature, Terry took you to his room and laid you on his bed. He curled up right behind you, not bothering to pull the covers over yet. Him and his dragon were at peace. Only now he had to worry about is how to get you in his bed forever.

[putschki1969]

Hi Puts! YK just announced that Keiko will be not participated in YK Live #21 this year 😢 I'm kinda sad about this.

Okay, I didn't expect to have to use this gif so soon...

All jokes aside, this announcement is indeed very saddening and disappointing but I would be lying if I said I was super surprised.

Just a few days ago I addressed some possibilities for the future in THIS POST here and I was trying my best to remain optimistic despite knowing very well that Yuki had pretty much cemented her stance on the whole thing by releasing that initial statement. The way she positioned herself as the victim and everyone else as perpetrator was a clear message. By explicitly name-calling the members, it was made to look like Hikaru and Keiko were “aligning themselves with the enemy”. The Asia Tour probably couldn't be cancelled or re-arranged due to existing agreements/contracts but we didn't know how the Kalafina debacle would affect anything after that. Seems like we have our answer now. The girls have all officially fallen out of favour and are being considered as “Space Craft adjacent”. They are now in the same position as Wakana, nothing more than pariahs. Which means of course that everyone is now following the usual M.O. of ignoring each other’s presence. I'm not saying this is all coming from Yuki's side, there's a very high chance of the girls themselves being restricted in their activities due to contractual obligations (Space Craft most definitely made them sign something to make that Kalafina Live possible).

As discussed previously, we got our first glimpses of the shunning process when Yuki decided to distance herself on social media by unfollowing Hikaru and Keiko.

Then just a few days ago, a photo was posted from the recording studio and a certain someone was notably absent.

I guess Keiko's exclusion from the YKL is just a natural progression although I will honestly say that I didn't think Yuki would go that far, jeopardising the quality of her performances like that. Considering that her craft has always been her main priority, letting go of the literal backbone of 90% of her live music seems like a very stupid decision but I guess pettiness knows no boundaries in this ever-lasting feud between Team Yuki and Team Space Craft.

Oh well, needless to say, I won't be attending YK events any time soon. I don't hate her and I still appreciate her work but there's no longer any incentive for me personally. The girls have always come first and nothing will ever change about that. I am not Team YK or Team Space Craft, I am Team Kalafina and always will be! This just means I will have to support their solo activities even more and hopefully they will all increase their activities to give me lots of opportunities to show my appreciation.

As I mentioned in my post from a few days ago, nothing in life happens without a price having to be paid. Sacrifices need to be made, time has to pass. I am sure the girls were aware of most of these consequences when they decided to commit themselves to the Kalafina Anniversary Live project. Just like all these years ago, Wakana was aware what would happen if she stayed with Space Craft. The Japanese entertainment industry is not for the weak, shitty things happen all the time, you win some, you lose some. Hikaru actually shared some very good advice during her live broadcast from the other day. Life has a way of balancing itself out, for every bad thing that happens, a good thing will follow. And every rough experience might one day turn into an opportunity so I guess we can try to look at the whole thing with a more positive mindset. We don't know if this is permanent or not and we also have no idea what's in store for Kalafina so I refuse to despair because of it.

Speaking of Hikaru, she also mentioned that throughout her career, the main priority have always been the fans. I think this sentiment is shared by Keiko and Wakana which is why they ultimately decided to hold the Kalafina live, knowing very well that they'd have to pay dearly for their decision.

Of course they didn't think there would be such a harsh backlash in the initial phase but that was mostly fueled by Yuk's unfortunate phrasing in the statement. If she had refrained from mentioning the members, I don't think that there would have been such an outrage and immediate condemnation of the girls. Fans would have been upset but most of them would have simply blamed Space Craft and not the girls themselves.

Nonetheless, all that bitching and moaning from "some" fans didn't stop thousands of people from getting their ticket and showing up for the live. As far as I am concerned, the concert was a huge success and everyone there was filled with happiness. The girls must have surely interpreted it like this as well so hopefully, they felt like it was worth their sacrifice.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

They had won, Eddie had lived, and Max didn't succumb to Vecna's wrath. Thanks to Robin, Steve, and Nancy, Henry Creel had perished in the Upside Down. Convincing the town of Eddie's innocence was a lot harder than clearing him of all charges, so the Munsons had stayed in Indianapolis until their new house was ready and until things settled down in Hawkins. A couple of months passed, and the Munsons were ready to move in. Dustin was allowed to help as long as Claudia went with him. Claudia had been a bit overprotective since Jason's goons had threatened Dustin. He didn't mind. It was the perfect opportunity for his mother to finally meet Wayne and Eddie. Dustin burst through the front door of their new house.

"Dusty! You should have knocked! You never knock!" Claudia scolded.

Eddie popped up from behind a box with a manic grin.

"Henderson!" Eddie exclaimed and tried to jump over a box, but he tripped, falling on his face. "Goddamnit!"

Dustin laughed and helped Eddie up off the floor before pulling him into a hug.

"I'm so sorry about my son," Claudia said to Wayne, who came out of the kitchen.

"I'm used to it. Eddie doesn't know how to knock either," Wayne said.

"Dude, your house is amazing," Dustin said.

"Way better than the trailer," Eddie said. "Wayne has his own room!"

"I brought muffins," Claudia said, holding out the basket. "It was between this or the houseplant, but I figured growing the houseplant would have taken longer, and it wouldn't have tasted as good."

"I suppose it wouldn't have," Wayne said in amusement. "Kitchen's this way."

Claudia followed Wayne into the kitchen. It was an open concept so you could see the kitchen from the living room. Claudia looked around the room, smiling as she tried not to stare at Wayne Munson and his pretty blue eyes. He was trying not to look at her either.

"It's a nice kitchen," Claudia said.

"Thank you, and thank you for the muffins. We really appreciate you coming to help us unload, Mrs. Henderson," Wayne said.

"Please, call me Claudia," she said, blushing.

"And you can - you can call me, uh - shit. Wayne, you can call me Wayne. Oh, I tend to lose my marbles around a pretty woman," Wayne blushed.

Claudia's face turned red as she giggled and touched his arm.

"Uh. . .what's happening? Is your uncle flirting with my mother?" Dustin asked, hitting Eddie's arm. "Eddie, your uncle is hitting on my mother."

"Yes, Henderson, I have eyes and ears," Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Eddie, do you know what this means?" Dustin asked.

"That I'm not blind and deaf," Eddie said.

"No, it means that if this works out," Dustin whispered. "We'll be family. . .officially!"

"Holy shit," Eddie whispered with wide eyes.

"Oh," Claudia said flustered as she continued to touch Wayne's arm. "Do you work out?"

"Oh, come on, mom, you can do better than that," Dustin muttered.

"Well, no, not really," Wayne said.

"Well, your arm feels very strong," Claudia giggled.

"Oh, well, thank you," Wayne said blushing.

"Ha," Eddie laughed quietly. "He's falling for it."

"You know, I don't know much about baking, but these are definitely the best muffins in the world," Wayne said as he ate one.

"I'm glad you like my muffin," Claudia said.

Eddie and Dustin gagged as Wayne nearly choked on said muffin.

"Your mother definitely knew what she was doing when she said that," Eddie said.

"She did not," Dustin hissed.

Claudia patted Wayne's back and got him some milk to wash it down.

"You boys want a muffin?" Claudia asked.

"Okay, so maybe she didn't," Eddie frowned and laughed at his uncle's red face. "Wayne's mind definitely went there. . .No, thank you, Mrs. H!"

"I'm never eating a muffin again," Dustin said.

"Those muffins definitely belong to Wayne now," Eddie whispered to Dustin and then cackled.

"So, are we getting to work, or are we building a fort out of these boxes?" Dustin asked, and Eddie grinned.

"You know, Wayne, if you did want to learn how to bake, I would be glad to show you how," Claudia said.

"Well, that sounds great. . .I'd return the favor if you don't know anything about gardening," Wayne said.

"I know absolutely nothing," Claudia smiled.

While Wayne and Claudia were busy flirting with each other, Eddie and Dustin got busy goofing off. Eventually, though, the Hendersons remembered the reason they were there and got to work. Over the next few weeks, the Hendersons continued to help the Munsons settle in, with Claudia and Wayne calling each other every chance they got.

"They're on the phone again!" Dustin whispered into his walkie.

"Yeah, I know this, Henderson. Did you forget I live with the man?" Eddie asked.

"They're making progress!" Dustin grinned.

"Not enough. Why doesn't he just ask her out already?" Eddie complained.

"I could ask you the same thing about a certain someone," Dustin said.

"I wish I never told you!" Eddie hissed. "Say nothing. . .they could be listening."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Dustin rolled his eyes.

"And you know why I'm so nervous," Eddie sighed. "This is a lot more complicated."

"I wish it wasn't," Dustin frowned.

"Yeah," Eddie sighed and then changed his tone. "I got that new comic book!"

"No!" Dustin exclaimed gleefully.

"I'll come over. . .or rather we'll both come over to show you the comic book. I think my uncle's been looking for an excuse to see your mother," Eddie said.

The radio crackled, and Steve's voice came through.

"Hold on. . .why didn't you tell me that Claudia and Wayne are interested in each other?" Steve asked.

"Because, Steven, you don't have to know everything," Eddie said affectionately.

"Have you been listening, Steve?" Dustin asked.

"There's nothing on television," Steve said. "I'm bored, and I'm home alone."

There was another crackle on the other end of the walkie, and what sounded like a crash.

"Eddie?" Dustin asked, but he got no response. "Yeah. I think he really had to piss."

"So, tell me about this girl that Eddie likes," Steve said bitterly.

"Oh! Would you look at that?! My mom's calling me! Gotta go!" Dustin yelled. "Over!"

A week later, Eddie and Dustin were spying from behind a wall into Dustin's kitchen. Claudia was giggling as she was showing Wayne how to bake. Well, it was more like they were trying to see who could put more flour on each other's faces.

"They're so fucking adorable," Eddie whispered.

"I'm going to get my Polaroid," Dustin said.

Dustin quickly hurried to his room, grabbed the camera, and rushed back to Eddie, who was now holding Tews in his arms. He took a picture of Claudia putting flour on Wayne's nose. The sound of the camera startled Tews, and Eddie shrieked as the cat flipped out in his arms. He scratched Eddie and jumped down before running into the living room.

"Boys, what's going on in there?" Wayne asked.

"Nothing!" They yelled.

Dustin grabbed the photo and scrambled with Eddie to sit down on the couch. They held the comic book open upside down just as Wayne and Claudia entered the living room. Dustin and Eddie smiled innocently at them.

"Eddie, your cheek is bleeding, son," Wayne said.

"It does that," Eddie said, shrugging.

"Right," Wayne said and raised an eyebrow at the comic book.

"You better not be doing any experiments, Dusty," Claudia said. "Not tonight."

"I would never interrupt your evening with Wayne, mom," Dustin grinned.

"I swear, Uncle Wayne, we're being good," Eddie said.

It wasn't until a whole month later, right when Eddie and Dustin had started talking about pulling a parent trap, that their parents announced they were going on a date. Wayne insisted on dropping Eddie off at the Hendersons when he went to pick up Claudia for their date.

"We both still feel a little iffy about leaving you alone," Wayne sighed. "Not that we don't trust you or anything. . .well, you know how it is."

"Can you blame us?" Claudia asked as they stood in the living room, looking at the boys.

"Not at all, Mrs. H," Eddie said and kissed her cheek. "Have fun, you two, and be safe. By safe, I mean - ,"

"Eddie," Wayne gently scolded.

"What? You know how to bake now. . .you might end up putting a bun in that oven," Eddie grinned.

"Hush, you," Claudia giggled and slapped his chest. "Your uncle and I talked about it. . .we'd decided we would be more comfortable if you boys had a sitter."

"You just said you trusted us!" Dustin exclaimed.

"I am a big boy, Uncle Wayne!" Eddie shrieked. "I do not need a sitter! Him, on the other hand!"

"Hey!"

"You'll thank us later," Wayne said in amusement.

"I will not!" Eddie yelled.

They walked out the door, and Eddie slammed the door behind them with a pout. Eddie leaned against the door and crossed his arms. He smiled softly, shaking his head.

"What?" Dustin asked.

"It's nice having two parents and a little brother," Eddie said. "If they make us get bunk beds, I call top."

"Settle down, it's only their first date and by the time - Oh, shit, the babysitter is here!" Dustin yelled, his face pressed to the window.

Eddie shoved Dustin aside with his elbow and ignored Dustin's cry of protest.

"Those motherfuckers really - ,"

"It's Steve!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Okay. . .I changed my mind, I definitely need a babysitter, and I want that one. That one right there," Eddie said, his face pressed to the glass as well as his finger.

"Please, Eddie, act a little more desperate," Dustin said sarcastically.

"I take it back. I hate having a little brother," Eddie said.

They watched as Steve talked with Wayne and Claudia just as they were about to leave. The three of them were laughing about something Wayne and Claudia had said.

"What did they say?!" Dustin asked.

Steve hugged Claudia and shook Wayne's hand. Wayne opened the car door for Claudia and got into the truck. Steve waved them off and turned to face the house. He looked in their direction in confusion and then waved his hand at them.

"Can he see us?!" Eddie yelped.

"Yes, Eddie, because it's a window, not a two-way mirror," Dustin said. "Wow, I know love can make you stupid sometimes, but I didn't think it would make you this stupid."

"Ha! Ha! HA! You're so funny, butthead," Eddie said. "NOT!"

Eddie jumped away from the window as though he had been burned. He started fixing his hair and smelling his breath.

"Oh my god, this is hilarious," Dustin grinned.

"How's my hair?" Eddie asked.

"Awful," Dustin giggled and Eddie flipped him off.

"I should have picked a better outfit - wait, I don't care what I'm wearing. . .unless. . .does Steve care what I'm wearing?" Eddie asked himself.

The sounds of footsteps come closer to the door. Eddie squeaked and ran off towards the bathroom.

"Why are you being so weird?!" Dustin asked as he followed him and spoke through the door. "You've been around Steve before. . .unless, are you planning on telling him?!"

"Yes!" Eddie yelled. "Shut up, let me think! I didn't plan on it being tonight!"

They heard the front door opening and closing.

"Hello?!" Steve called out. "Aw, hey, Tews, at least somebody wanted to come see me."

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Eddie came stumbling out. He gently pushed past Dustin and fell into the living room. Eddie got up and straightened his clothes.

"Hey, Steve," Eddie said casually.

"Hey, Eddie," Steve said smiling, his hazel eyes twinkling in amusement. "What were you guys up to?"

"Uh, I was showing him something," Dustin said quickly.

"In the bathroom?" Steve asked.

"Uh. . .I had a rash. . .on my butt!" Dustin yelled out quickly.

"And why didn't you show it to your mother before she left?" Steve asked.

"I'm an expert on rashes!" Eddie yelled out without thinking about it.

"Isn't Claudia a nurse?" He asked.

"You know what, Steve?" Dustin asked, his hands on his hips. "That is an excellent point. . .something that I did not think about."

"Okay, your mother and uncle told me not to let you guys have sugar, did you already have some?" Steve asked.

"Hey, how about we watch a movie?" Dustin suggested.

"Yeah, okay," Steve said, shrugging.

Dustin put in a videotape and scurried off to make popcorn, turning the lights off on the way out. He came back in a few minutes later with sodas for them and a bowl of popcorn. He hurried back into the kitchen to get his own snack, telling them to start without him. He had seen it before. Eddie and Steve sat on the couch with Tews still on Steve’s lap.

"So, they really didn't ask you to babysit us, did they?" Eddie asked.

"What?! No. . .is that what they said?" Steve asked and Eddie nodded. "That's hilarious."

"I was nervous. . .earlier," Eddie said. "I've been trying to figure how to tell my crush that I like them but I didn't know how."

"Oh. . .well, they'd be crazy not to like you," Steve said.

"Hm. . .tell that to the rest of Hawkins who still think I'm a murderer," Eddie said.

"Oh, I constantly tell them that they're crazy," Steve said seriously.

Eddie blushed and turned back to the movie. They fell into a comfortable silence. Eddie yawned and stretched his arms behind Steve’s head. He placed his arm cautiously around Steve’s shoulders. Steve looked at Eddie, his eyes widened in realization. Steve pointed to himself with a questioning look.

"Yeah, big boy, I was talking about you," Eddie smirked.

Steve blushed. He snuggled into Eddie's hold, scooting down to rest his head on his shoulder. Eddie rested his cheek against the top of Steve’s head, and they watched the rest of the movie wrapped up in each other's arms. When they finished the movie, they realized something was missing.

"Dustin never came back from the kitchen," Steve said.

"Yeah, you're right," Eddie frowned.

They walked into the kitchen and found Dustin fast asleep at the table. His hat was crooked, his mouth open as he drooled on his hand. The popcorn bowl was empty, and there was a magazine open in front of him. Eddie and Steve smiled at each other softly.

"He's such a butthead," Steve said affectionately.

"You gotta love him, though," Eddie said, flashing his dimples.

"We should put him to bed," Steve said.

Steve and Eddie tried everything to wake that boy up, but he was out like a light. They got him partially awake, though. It was enough to pull him out of the chair and push him towards his room. Steve cleaned his mouth and hands first before pushing him into the bed. Eddie took off his hat shoes so Steve could tuck him into bed. Tews meowed and hopped onto the bed, snuggling up next to Dustin. Eddie stood with his hands on his hips, exhaling loudly.

"Let's give it five or ten years before you try getting me pregnant, honey," Eddie said and patted Steve’s shoulder. "I'm already exhausted."

"Eddie, we can't - ,"

"You have your fantasy, and I have mine," Eddie said. "And I can say that now. . .so let's just imagine this: the baby was put down, and now Daddies can have their free time to make out on the couch."

"Hm, I like that," Steve grinned.

Eddie guided him into the living room and pushed him onto the couch. He crawled on top of Steve, his nose brushing up against Steve’s nose. Steve pulled back a little bit, blushing.

"What?" Eddie asked.

"I was super jealous as hell by the way when I thought you had a crush on someone else," Steve replied.

"I know, that's why I decided to tell you. You were super obvious, even to me, babe," Eddie cackled.

"Asshole," Steve laughed.

Eddie crashed his lips to Steve's. He wrapped his arms around Eddie, pulling him completely on top of him as he eagerly returned the kiss. They hadn't been kissing for very long when they heard the sound of a truck pulling up. Steve and Eddie broke apart quickly. There were doors opening, and then they heard the sound of Claudia Henderson's loud laughter. Steve and Eddie grinned before going to the window. Claudia was pushing Wayne up against the truck, and then she was kissing him.

"Looks like they had the same idea," Eddie grinned.

"It's sweet. I'm glad they found each other," Steve said.

Eddie looked at Steve, his heart beating rapidly at the sight of him.

"Yeah. . .we all do," Eddie said.

They sat back quickly down on the couch as Claudia and Wayne started walking up to the door. Just as they were about to come in, Eddie realized that Claudia and Wayne had definitely worked together to set them up. Eddie let out a bark of laughter. They fucking won.

[woozinhos]

can i request a yeosang ff with his pregnant gf who's gonna have a girl named seolya. yeosang woke up hard like he's gonna explode if he doesn't have his dick in his gfs mouth or smth pls pls and tyvm.

Notes: gang I’m back hehe hope you missed me and enjoy the fics I post tonight!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Yeosang slowly opened his eyes, blinking groggily as he came to consciousness. He was immediately aware of a certain...discomfort. A warm, familiar ache between his legs that signaled he was hard as a rock. He glanced over at you, still asleep beside him, and felt a wave of desire wash over him. He shifted slightly, his body seeking relief from the throbbing need he felt.

Yeosang reached out to gently touch your arm, his fingers tracing a path up to your shoulder. He couldn't help but admire the way you looked, even in your sleep. The way your hair was splayed across the pillow, the way your lips were slightly parted. He felt a surge of love and desire for you, his heart swelling as he gazed at you. But the ache in his groin was becoming unbearable, and he couldn't ignore it any longer. Yeosang's hand moved from your shoulder to your stomach, his touch gentle as he rubbed slow circles on your belly. He felt a pang of tenderness as he touched the spot where your child, Seolya, was growing.

"My little family," he murmured to himself, his voice filled with love and affection. Yeosang's hand continued to roam over your belly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. He leaned in closer, his lips finding your neck and pressing gentle kisses along the sensitive skin. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, and how much he wanted you right now. As you stirred awake, Yeosang's lips froze on your neck. He held his breath, hoping you wouldn't be too groggy and would notice his state. He continued to gently rub your belly, waiting to see if you would fully wake up. His heart was racing, his need for you growing with each passing moment.

"Mmm...good morning," you mumbled sleepily, stretching and opening your eyes. You blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the light filtering into the room. Yeosang's hand froze on your belly again as you spoke, and he looked down at you with a mixture of relief and desire. "Morning, love," he replied, his voice a little huskier than usual. You turned your head to look at Yeosang, taking in his flushed cheeks and the way his chest was rising and falling a little too quickly. It was then that you noticed the tent in his boxers.

"Oh," you said, a small smile spreading across your face. "Someone's a little excited this morning." Yeosang chuckled sheepishly, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. "Yeah, well...I woke up like this," he admitted, his hand still resting on your belly. "And seeing you sleep next to me wasn't helping." You shifted closer to him, reaching out to gently trace the outline of his erection through his boxers. Yeosang let out a low moan, his eyes fluttering closed at your touch.

"God, you have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice filled with need. Your touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn't help but arch into your hand. He was already so sensitive, and every little movement of your fingers sent sparks of pleasure through his body.

"Please," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need you." You leaned in closer, your hand still working its magic on him through his boxers. "You know I can't do much while I'm pregnant, right?" you teased, your voice laced with playful innocence.

Yeosang groaned, his eyes opening to look at you with a mixture of desperation and longing. "I know," he said, his voice strained. "But that doesn't mean I can't think about it." He shifted restlessly, his body seeking friction against your hand. "You have no idea how hard it is to hold back when you're right there in front of me, all soft and beautiful." You continued to tease him, your fingers dancing lightly over his erection. Yeosang's breathing grew ragged, his eyes fixed on you with a mix of frustration and desire.

"Please, love," he pleaded again, his voice low and desperate. "I need to feel you. I need to touch you."

"Please, at least let me feel your mouth," Yeosang begged, his hips bucking up against your hand. "I need something, anything. I can't take it anymore." He looked at you with pleading eyes, his need for you overwhelming him. You smirked at him, enjoying the way he was coming undone under your touch. "You really want it that badly, huh?" you teased, your fingers still working him over his boxers.

Yeosang's eyes darkened with desire as you teased him, his need for release becoming almost unbearable. "I'll do anything," he growled, his voice low and gravelly. He gripped your hips and gently pushed you onto your side, his body following suit so that he was behind you. Yeosang positioned himself over you, his knees on either side of your head as he looked down at you with a mix of hunger and affection. His boxers were straining against his erection, the sight making his breathing even more ragged.

"You have no idea how much I've been thinking about this," he murmured, his hands gently running through your hair. Yeosang slowly pulled down his boxers, freeing his aching erection from the confines of the fabric. He let out a low moan as he felt the cool air hit his sensitive skin, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Please, baby," he begged again, his hand gently guiding his cock towards your lips. "I need you so bad. Just a taste, please." He was desperate for your touch, his body trembling with need as he waited for you to grant him his request. Yeosang let out a strangled gasp as your tongue made contact with his sensitive tip, his body shuddering at the sensation. He tangled his fingers in your hair, his grip on you tightening as he tried to maintain control.

"God, yes," he moaned, his hips bucking slightly forward as he sought more of your touch. "Just like that." Yeosang let out a deep, guttural moan as you took him into your mouth, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He rocked his hips slowly, his fingers gently massaging your scalp as you worked your magic on him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his body quivering with pleasure. "Don't stop." You could feel the smooth, velvety texture of his skin against your tongue, the weight of him heavy and satisfying. He tasted slightly salty, a mixture of sweat and arousal that made your mouth water. His hips moved in a slow, steady rhythm, gently guiding himself in and out of your mouth. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, tugging gently on the strands as he sought to control his own pleasure. As you continued to suck him, you could feel him getting harder and more desperate in your mouth. He was panting heavily now, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"I'm not going to last long," he warned, his voice strained. "You're driving me crazy, love." Yeosang pulled away from you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked down at you with a mixture of desire and regret.

"God, I want you so bad," he confessed, his eyes roaming over your body. "But I know I can't. Not while you're pregnant." He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his body still trembling with need. Yeosang's self-control was fading fast, his body and mind warring with each other. He knew he should stop, that he shouldn't be pushing you to do anything while you were pregnant, but the need was too strong. He slowly pushed his cock back into your mouth, his movements a little more forceful than before. He was being careful not to go too deep or hurt you, but he couldn't help the roughness that crept into his actions.

"Fuck," he groaned, his eyes fixed on the sight of you taking him in. "I can't help it. You look so good like this." You moaned around his cock, the sound sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He began to move faster, his hips snapping against your face as he chased his release.

"You're taking me so well," he praised, his fingers still tangled in your hair. "So good for me, even when I shouldn't be doing this." Yeosang's words were becoming increasingly incoherent as he lost himself in the pleasure of your mouth. His grip on your hair tightened, and he began to thrust a little deeper, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

"Fuck, I'm close," he panted, his voice rough with desire. "I'm going to come soon." You could feel him swelling even more in your mouth, his balls drawing up tight against his body as he neared his release. He was letting out a constant stream of curses and moans, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"Take it all," he gasped, his hips stuttering as he lost control. "I'm gonna come down your throat."

With a final thrust, Yeosang came undone, spilling his hot, salty seed into your mouth. He cried out your name, his body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. He slowly pulled out of your mouth, panting heavily as he collapsed onto the bed beside you. Yeosang leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, his hand still rubbing soothing circles on your stomach. He nuzzled against your neck, inhaling the scent of you as he held you close.

"You're perfect," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "You're everything I've ever wanted, and more." Yeosang continued to shower your stomach with kisses, his lips gentle against the soft skin. He pressed his ear against you, as if trying to hear the baby's heartbeat through your belly.

"I love you both so much," he murmured, his hand still caressing your stomach lovingly. "You have no idea how happy you make me."

[genderqueerdykes]

TW: Transphobia, intentional misgendering/mentions of abuse, gaslighting, and generally gross behavior. You asked for experiences from transmasc people, so, here I am. I'm a transmasc person. Still figuring out what kind of person that is, but... I'm transmasc, which is what matters here. I've been told a LOT of harmful things in the community, both from abusers and from friends(who I no longer talk to). This is my experience. My first real experience with all of this was from a shitty ex, who at that point controlled my life and had identified as bi since he was 12. He denied me the ability to transition (I couldn't drive myself to the doctor and had no money to pay for more than the prescription), saying that I would turn into a monster and break up with him, abuse him, become violent, etc. He pressured me into using she/her pronouns along with he/they. I used genderfluid transmasc at the time as my labels, and he used this as an excuse to proudly call me "his wife in training", saying that because I didn't bind half the time, I was practically a woman. I'm now in therapy because while the term genderfluid fits, I legitimately get panicked when I try to use it because not only did he use it against me, but people used it to... detransify me. De-masc me.

Now, I'm a feminine person in some respects. I like a good accessory and bright colors and cute things. But because I wasn't performing hypermasculinity to become "a true man", people used genderfluid as a term to say "Well, clearly you're fine with female pronouns and terms because you wear earrings/paint your nails, and genderfluid falls in the scale of woman, so I'll just call you woman." People used the term so often to de-transify me, ESPECIALLY in the community.

When out and about, it does not matter if I have he/him or they/them pins on- people, even queer people, CONSISTENTLY read me as transfeminine even though I'm the opposite. I love trans women, but that's not what I am- and to be agressively labeled female by people who mean well and aggressively labeled male in a "you're just a monster masquerading as a female" way from strangers who are transphobic feels like absolute dogshit.

I'm nervous about top surgery sometime this year or next year. I want to keep a little bit of my chest, because I'm a larger person- but I'm legitimately worried my doctor will go against my wishes and give me a bird chest or carve out too much. I want top surgery not only because it will make me feel more like myself, but because my stupid chest is what EVERYONE points to- queer or non- and says that "but you have that, shouldn't you enjoy it?"

Being labeled a faker, a potential monster in the making, as someone who's just confused, and worst of all, being labeled as someone who didn't know what my own label meant... it's worn me down. I'm not sure what to do with myself, and am in gender therapy to unpack the trauma of what other people have placed onto me, both queer and cishet alike. I have quite a few understanding, loving friends in the community- but there have been just as many people who haven't understood and try to fit me into a box until I bled.

This stuff isn't just "oh silly transmasc! That's part of the experience! You just have to deal with it!" I don't, actually. And I refuse to. I refuse to give up the things I love for other people's assumptions of my body, label or identity. Even if it hurts to fight back, I'm tired of letting transphobes inside and outside our community harm me based on what THEY think I should be. This is my story. Sorry if it's bleak, but... that's the truth. I hope it helps others see that blaming us for all the harm the community faces, and making us into your blank dolls to play with, breaks us. It's awful. Please, treat us better. We deserve better. We always have.

Thank you for letting us share our stories.

thank you for taking the time to type this out and share, i really appreciate it. this is very insightful and important. i can't believe how awful people are to you. that shouldn't be happening. i don't want to take away from your story so i'll keep it brief

people, even queer people, CONSISTENTLY read me as transfeminine even though I'm the opposite. I love trans women, but that's not what I am- and to be agressively labeled female by people who mean well and aggressively labeled male in a "you're just a monster masquerading as a female" way from strangers who are transphobic feels like absolute dogshit.

this happens so often. this is what i mean when i say that trans men and mascs are also affected by transmisogyny. many people mistake trans men and mascs for trans women and transfems. it's a real thing and we need to acknowledge it.

[searchingforserendipity25]

actually no, the best lawrellini conclave post-canon/au concept i can summon rn is innocent iv attempting to very earnestly match-make his dean of the college and secretary of state.

breaking their vows Would be a sin but considering the byzantine methods they are deploying to avoid being anywhere near each other inside the smallest city state in the world is:

an unnecessary complication to the new pope's ongoing mission to Make Empathic Changes For Good (Intersectional Version), which is going full steam ahead, with the sort of dedication a man who lives life expecting to be assassinated still, and means to make every day count.

oh, they're professional, of course; but poor monsignor o'malley is left trotting up and down the apostolic palace to share messages between their offices, because they refuse to text for post-conclave paranoia reasons (bellini) and because the expectation of replying in a digital format is a psychological torture for the emotionally-repressed luddite (lawrence). poor ray does not complain, but he has confessed to the pope his ankles aren't what they used to be.

they are old men, they are kind and very capable men. breaking their vows is a sin, of course. but to live is to sin inevitably. wasting good love into discomfort is far worse, vincent benítez thinks. they have to talk it out, at least. if he is to trust them to salvage something worthwhile out of the church, he has to believe they can salvage something true out of their friendship.

just kinda sad at this point, honestly.

the thing is. well the thing is. there is no polite way to tell the supreme pontiff you and your bestie already tried the secret romance thing once. and it didn't take.

they had their friends-to-secret-lovers, their shared office, their upstate drives with autumn leaves rusting and good music on the radio.

desperate embraces in the confessional of the new york cathedral. brushing hands and long glances that turned to long pining that turned to a summer of forbidden romance, turned to the anxiety of hiding their relationship to the world.

the rush of joy turned to unsustainable amounts of guilt, the longer it went on. misunderstandings, really: a lot of assumptions without communication. more resentment than either of them wanted to have for each other. the love was there, a great deal of it, but it was far from enough, when it put into question the work they were doing.

twenty years, give or take, since they last kissed in the pantry of a food kitchen in brooklyn, and put an end to the thing between them. they had their sad break up, their ex-lovers-to-friends again arc.

aldo went to paris, lawrence went to rome: they wrote, sometimes. called, met during conferences, meetings, conclaves.

the late holy pope's managed to get them to stop avoiding each other and get their shit together to pull off his own liberal win election years ago. they're fine now; they're good, they're okay. genuinely, mostly.

twenty years. recent events had made clear how much there was still to be understood between them, but they'd recognize each other's breathing in the dark anywhere. innocent xiv had managed to get them in the same confessional, on false and well-intentioned pretenses.

'it is sweet, really.' aldo says, trying to straighten his cassock, trying for wry irony, trying not to guess at the familiar profile, near enough to touch. 'are you going to tell him, or am i.'

'later,' thomas says. he swallows. it would be the easiest thing in the world, to press a hand against the grid of the partition, to pull it back, tug apart the curtains; for the curve of his adam's apple to move against aldo's palm. 'i'll explain it all.'

aldo snorts. 'maybe not all of it, if you please,' and it is enough to make lawrence quirk his mouth. the quality of the air between them alters, just enough for the closeness not to feel too suffocating.

there's nothing to be told, really. nothing to fix. only a misunderstanding. there is no way to explain the distance is not spite or shame, it is just distance. the measure of grace they give each other, now, after spending too long secluded together.

self-protection, yes; but also kindness going both ways. there is nothing to be talked out. there hasn't been anything to talk about for twenty years. if they give it enough time and enough turns of the rosary, one day that will even be true, god willing.

their eyes adapt to the gloom quickly. this part has never been difficult.

it would be the easiest thing. moving in the dark, pressing close, quieting gasping breaths with a mouth or a hand. he tilts his cheek, brushes the evening's stubble against aldo's. lightly, so it does not leave a mark - he has felt the phantom-sense of it before, he always does when they sit near.

the thing is, the confessional is closed from the outside.

but they are, after all, the secretary of state, the dean of the college of cardinals. between the two of them, they have enough master keys to open anything in the palace from the inside out, if either of them truly wanted to get out.

[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 6

Max Fewtrell x Norris!reader

Lando Norris x Sister!reader

Daniel Riccardo x norris!reader

summary: You and max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

not proofread

series masterlist | previous | next

-

“We can’t, Max” You whisper, gently pushing his hand off your cheek, as much as it hurt to push him away when you had him right where you wanted him but Lando would be less than thrilled.

“I can’t do this to Lando” “Don’t pull my card on me” He says, stepping away tho “I’m not. I’m stating what has been right. You guys are best friends. Maybe it was right that you…” You trail off, looking to the floor.

“Was it right? Is all this back and forth really right?” You don’t answer and he takes that as his sign “Alright. I won’t lose a word about this. Good luck with Daniel or whatever”

He starts to walk away “You’re jealous” You state. He turns around “How can I not. You want to be around him at all times and text or call him all the time” “You didn’t want me”

“Now that is a lie.You have no idea how much I have to restrain myself every day. Not in the creepy way!” His eyes widened in panic “Just-you know-“ “I get what you mean.” He nods “You have no idea.” “I probably do. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go.” “Right”

You watch him walk out. He throws a “Sleep well” over his shoulder and you lean against the fridge. What have you done?

-

You sit at breakfast with keegan and max, lando had texted you that he’ll be back soon, but not to wait on him at breakfast. You rub your temples “I’m never drinking again” You mumble.

Keegan chuckled “You weren’t even that drunk” You sigh “Yeah, but i’m also not seventeen anymore where I can drink unlimited drinks and not have a hangover the next day” Keegan nods “Yeah okay, you’re right”

Max has his eyes closed, leaned back “Mate, you good?” Keegan taps max on his arm. He opens one eye “Tired” And closes his eye again.

“When is our flight back?” You ask “In 7 hours. We’re leaving the hotel in 4-6 hours. Depends on your brother” Max says with his eyes closed. You hum.

Your phone pings with a notification and you look at your phone, Max’s eyes open and looks at you. You stare a moment longer and decide to turn it around. You sigh and lean on your elbow “Who are you ignoring now?” Keegan chuckled, mouth full.

“Keegs, you don’t speak with a full mouth” You say in a playful annoyed tone. He holds his hands up in surrender “Sorry, sorry. Just wanted to break the silence” “What silence” “Zhe one I broke. I don’t know what happened, and it’s none of my business but make it stop before lando comes back”

“Nothing happened” You say, Max looks at you for a moment and looks behind you “Finally. Thought you’d never show up” You hear your brother chuckle behind you “Sorry. Everyone okay?” “Tired but we’re all alive” Max says.

Lando looks at you “You okay?” You nod “I’m okay” Lando looks and Max for a second and sits down next to you. You grab your phone “I’m gonna go and pack my stuff. I don’t wanna rush” Lando hums “Okay. We’ll meet at 4 in the lobby. We still need to get there and everything” You nod.

-

yn added to their story

[cap1: ✈️🇲🇨 | cap2: career change: model 😂]

-

As soon as you were home, you fell onto your bed, leaving the suitcase in the hallway. You close your eyes and softly fall into a soft slumber.

A few hours pass and the ringing of your phone wakes you up. You sit up and grab it, without looking at the caller ID “Hello?” You say sleepy.

“Yn? Are you finally back in monaco?” Alexandra asked “Yeah, got here a few hours ago I think. I went to sleep cause I couldn’t sleep on the plane.” “You might wanna check out what i’ve sent you” “Oh god, do I wanna know?” “It’s about daniel”

You sigh and put her on speaker. You open the link she sent you “What the actual fuck.”

-

gossippage

73.639 likes

gossippage Today Daniel Riccardo was in an interview on a podcast where he was asked about his relationship to his former teammate’s sister, Yn norris. The australian simply smiled and said “We have something special. That’s something no one can take from us. But meddling in our lives won’t get you an answer. We know what we are, that’s all that matters.” What do we make out of that statement?👀👀

user ‘we know what we are’ DANIEL AHHH

user 100% dating

user omggggg

user lando is probably fuming 😬

user still don’t ship it honestly

user idk man, they can be simply friends

-

“Why would he phrase it like that? Lando was pissed enough as it is.” You close the link and put Alex back on your ear “Maybe you should talk to him”

“Maybe max was right” Silence sets in for a few seconds “Max? What do you mean?” You sigh “Max may mentioned something about Daniel liking me..”

“Yn.” “He maybe also said he’s jealous of Daniel” “WHAT?” “We almost kissed, Alex.” “Almost?” “I told him to go” “But why? You wanted him, or am I reading the room wrong?” “No, you are right. But..he’s lando’s best friend. I can’t do that.”

“Yn” “Alex please. I don’t need a lecture. Maybe a therapist at this rate, but not a lecture” She chuckled “Yeah okay. But what are you gonna do now?” “Try to move on from max. Maybe with a little help?”

“I don’t like the sound of that” “He’s not looking for something serious, Alex” She sighs “And you’re a virgin” “That was uncalled for.” “But true. You’ve always been big on the one. Don’t waste it”

“I won’t” “Good. You may want to text lando and then rest a bit” “Will do, love you” “love you too”

You hang up and sent a quick text to Lando.

‘Daniel said some weird phrased stuff today, we’re still not dating. If that ever changes I’ll tell you, but we’re not a thing. Going back to sleep now’

‘Okay, thanks for letting me know. Haven’t seen it yet. Sleep well’

-

A loud knock on your door wakes you up. You get up and drag yourself down the hallway to your front door.

You open it slowly and in front of you stands Kika with her hands on her hips “Girl. What the fuck is going on?” You look puzzled “what? what happened now?” “Daniel?” She said, throwing her arms up.

You roll your eyes “He’s just phrasing shit wrong.” She raised her eyebrows. You sigh and step aside to let her in. She walks into your living room “What in the world is up with him? No better question, what is up with you two?”

“Nothing.” “Nothing? Babe, that man is in love with you” You roll your eyes “His problem, not mine” She sighs “So you don’t like him like that?” You shrug and she stared at you “Babe, fuck Lando. He’ll have to deal with it. And i’ve met your mom, she’ll hit him in the head.”

You chuckle “Yeah she would. She loves Daniel” “So?” “It’s already so much drama, I don’t know..and..” “And?” “Forget it. It’s just complicated”

“No, I won’t forget it. I’m not Alex” You groan “It doesn’t matter!” Before Kika can protest, your phone lights up with a message from daniel. You pick up your phone.

“He’s right, you know. But Fewtrell?” Kika sled curiously “Fewtrell? I have no idea what you’re talking about” You lean your phone away “He literally texted you ‘getting rejected by Fewtrell’ Yn. You had a crush on Max!”

You stay silent “No, you have a crush on Max. Am I right?” “I don’t have a crush on anyone. Let it be, please kiks” “Yn” You fidget with a lose string on your hoodie “It’s complicated” “Is everything complicated in your life?” “Apparently yes!”

“So..?” “He likes me, I like him but..” “Lando.” She nods understanding “And how he reacted to Daniel.. I mean I think the reaction was mostly because he thought I was hiding it but..I did hide my feelings for years now.” Kika pulled you into her side “What does your heart want. No Lando involved.”

“I don’t know. It wants peace.” “What gives you peace?Who makes you not rip your hair out?” “Daniel” “There’s your answer” You nod, laying your head on her chest.

She strokes your hair. Was that really what you want? Was it really Daniel?

-

f1gossip

93.639 likes

f1gossip Daniel Riccardo, Max Verstappen and Yn Norris have been spotted at the Nice Côte d'Azur Airport. Norris and Riccardo allegedly shared a long hug and went arm in arm to Verstappen’s Car. Have the rumours turned true?

user they would be so cute

user omg yesss

user max is their biggest fan 😂

user I mean,for who else would someone fly that far👀?

user max is literally right there??

user can we stop assuming 24/7

-

You were sitting in the sand with Penelope, building a sand castle. Max and Daniel were in the water and Kelly watched you two. “Yn?” You look over at Kelly, who was smiling softly “You okay? I mean.. the whole drama including..” She nods towards daniel, who was ducking max into the water.

“Doesn’t seem so pleasant” You shrug “I can’t keep caring about what Lando or anyone else thinks. I need to think about myself. And if he is who treats me right..I guess then that’s what it is” She nods. Kelly had her suspicions about you and Max before. She voiced them to her boyfriend. But to see Daniel treating you so gentle, made her question it.

“You’re staring you know” You smile at you “Sorry. Just thinking” You raise an eyebrow “About?” “Nothing. It’s okay. What are they doing?” She directs her attention to the water. You follow her eyes and chuckle. Max was chasing Daniel out of the water.

Daniel was laughing like a little kid and running towards you three “Helpp! Hes trying to catch me!” He gets out between laughter. He stopped behind the sand castle, knowing Max wouldn’t dare ruin it.

P looks at them for a moment but doesn’t spare either of them a second glance and continues building. Max glared at him “Thisbis not fair” “Why? I’m safe. I’m loving it” Daniel smiles “You two are children” You chuckle and help P place her form.

“Ah you love us” Daniel says with a smile “Sure.” You say with raised eyebrows.

“Alright. How about some ice cream?” Kelly asked. P immediately jumped up “Ice cream! Yesss!!”She ran over to her mum and held her arms up to be lifted into Kelly’s arms. Kelly chuckled and lifted her up.

“Ice cream sounds great” You say, wiping the sand off you. Max and Daniel agree and you begin to pack your few things.

Max walks next to Kelly and Daniel next to you. He nudges you “You okay?” You nod “I am. It’s peaceful without the drama” He chuckled “Yeah I bet. Heard anything from Lando?” You shook your head “But it doesn’t matter. It’s my life. I’ll inform him but I won’t ask for permission” Daniel nods “That’s the spirit!”

-

Later, Kelly’s brother had picked up P for a sleepover and the four of them went to a small restaurant at the coast. The light breeze was refreshing, cooling down the still warm temperatures.

You sit next to Daniel, who smiles at you and then directs his attention towards his drink “This is so good. Here try it” He holds it over to you. You take a sip “Hm, it is! But i’m staying with mine” You chuckle “You always chose that” “I hate change” “And? A drink is not that much of a change. You can always order a new one!”

“You’re impossible” “Glad to be of service” He smiled. You lean your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. Kelly looks over to you to and shots max and knowing look, that he returns. He leans close to her “What If I told you, he may told me that he has more than platonic feelings for her in the water”

“Then i’d believe you” She chuckled and mirrored your movement and leaned on Max’s shoulder.

Daniel whispers something into your ear which you groan at “Fine, Fine! I’ll get another drink” You get up and Daniel follows you.

When you come back, you trip in the sand and try to steady yourself on the little table next to your seat. Due to the sand, the table tips over and your old drink lands on your seat. You sigh “Great.”

You take tissues and pat it clean as much as you can through the fabric. Daniel looks sceptical “You can’t sit on that” “Where else am I supposed to sit?” He sits down and pulls you onto his lap.

“Here. Unless you wanna have a stain in your clothes. You look shocked for a moment but accept your fate either way. You look over at kelly who smirks. You shoot her a warning glare which makes her blow you a kiss.

-

f1gossip

92.639 likes

f1gossip Max Verstappen, his girlfriend Kelly Piquet, her daughter, Daniel Riccardo and Yn norris have been spotted around monaco yesterday! There have been a few sneaky pics of Daniel and yn where they look quite cosy 👀👀

user there is another chair next to yn, she must’ve chosen to sit there AHHHH

user on his lap sober this time

user THIS IS NOT A DRILL OH MY DAYS

user that I would ever witness this

-

-

Okay, we’re leaving max behind for now..🥱

[13hischiers]

❥ EYES LOCKED, HANDS LOCKED ! | nico hischier

nico x fem!reader

warnings: fluff | a short make out sesh | not any more i can think of!

word count: 918

summary: in which reader has a crush on nico, does he feel the same?

authors note: reader is jack & luke’s sister!

It was 9:30 PM, and with no plans for the evening, you found yourself lounging on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through the movies on Netflix. Jack and Luke were out with friends, leaving you alone at the apartment. The last thing you expected was for Nico Hischier to suddenly show at your door.

You were watching a movie when suddenly, the sound of the doorbell broke your concentration. Who could be at the door at this hour? you wondered to yourself, a little confused. When you opened it, you were met with the unexpected sight of Nico—the guy you’d had a crush on ever since Jack first introduced you to him.

"Hi, Y/N," Nico said, his voice a little hesitant. "I know it’s kinda late, but I was wondering if I could stay here for the night. Jack said it was okay." He flashed you a quick, almost shy smile. You nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

"Are you hungry or anything?" you asked, glancing toward the kitchen. "I could make you something to eat."

"No, it's fine," Nico replied quickly, a soft shake of his head. "I don't want to be a burden." He gave you a gentle smile before both of you fell into a brief silence. You returned his smile before heading back to the couch.

“You can sleep in my room since I'll be up watching Netflix all night," you offered, trying to make him feel at ease.

"Oh no, seriously, it’s fine. I can sleep on the couch," Nico replied quickly, his eyes meeting yours, lingering just a bit longer than usual.

"You could watch a movie with me, if you want," you suggested with a smile.

"Oh, sure! If that’s fine with you," Nico agreed, his voice soft. He moved to sit beside you on the couch, a little unsure but clearly relieved to stay close.

You put on a movie for the two of you to watch, then turned to Nico. "I'm gonna grab a snack, so I’ll be back in a second," you said with a casual smile. Nico gave a small nod in response, his gaze briefly following you as you walked toward the kitchen.

You were in the kitchen, dialing Jack’s number, but as expected, he didn’t answer. A sigh escaped your lips as you wondered how you’d make it through the night without you accidentally making it painfully awkward between you two. You were just about to call Luke when, out of nowhere, Nico appeared in front of you.

"Hey, didn’t mean to scare you," he said, his voice laced with curiosity. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing... I was just calling my brothers," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness, maybe even shyness. You couldn't quite hide the way your heart seemed to race a little.

“Well, I just wanted to ask you something,” Nico said, his voice hesitant.

“Yeah?” you responded, curiosity bubbling up as you wondered what he was about to ask.

“Do—do you like me?” His words hung in the air, catching you completely off guard. You were at a loss for words, your mind scrambling to process what he’d just said.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward between us. Just forget I asked," Nico quickly added, turning to walk back to the couch. But before he could take another step, you stopped him.

"I never said I don’t like you," you said softly, your voice gentle, almost comforting, as if trying to ease the tension that had suddenly settled between you two.

Next thing you know his lips were on yours. The kiss lingered for a while before he pulled away. “Is that fine with you?” you had nodded in response before dragging him to the couch so you guys could continue. You sat in his lap and started kissing him again, but this time you don’t even know if you guys are gonna stop. His lips were soft, almost like a cloud. His hands were on your hips as he was kissing you passionately.

Eventually, you had to pull away, breathless, the need for air taking over. "That was..." you tried to find the right word, your mind still surprised at what happened. "Amazing." Nico let out a soft, almost playful giggle, his eyes twinkling as he smiled. “We should really get some sleep. It’s already 10 PM,” he said, his voice more considerate now, as if aware of the time and the change in atmosphere.

You nodded, still catching your breath, and made your way toward your room, glancing back over your shoulder to invite him in. Nico hesitated, his voice laced with uncertainty as he asked, “Are you sure you want to sleep in the same bed?” The question lingered in the air, but you didn’t hesitate. You nodded quickly, the comfort of his presence soothing any doubt, and jumped into the bed with a smile. Nico followed suit, slipping under the covers with you.

As you settled in, Nico’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer, almost as if he wanted to shield you from the world. His embrace felt warm and safe, the perfect contrast to the coolness of the room. "Goodnight," you whispered, your voice soft, tired, and full of contentment. "Goodnight," Nico replied just as quietly, his voice reassuring, before the two of you drifted into a peaceful sleep, the world outside fading away.

You didn’t even stop to think, what if Jack or Luke saw you guys?

© aevrsies

[gripefroot]

Docked (Part 1)

Not even wooden shutters with rags stuffed in the slats to keep the draft out, charmingly framed by yellowed lace curtains, keep the noise out. 

Curiosity piques with the patter of running footsteps past the musty old house, but you keep your eyes on your, hopefully, customer. The old lady picked up and put down every dish you’d brought over the course of the last half-hour. With a courtesy cup of tea you’d poured yourself at her command long gone, with only the chipped old cup left in your hand with the dregs of tea leaves, the blasting horn of a ship shakes the house on its timbers. 

The old lady doesn’t hear. She hears very little. 

“This does remind me of my wedding crockery,” she says, picking up a painted blue teacup again, holding it to a lamp. That’s all the light she allows in her house. The windows are stuck shut to prevent her from catching a cold. Yes, even in late summer, when you’re on the verge of heatstroke if you don’t feel a cool breeze soon. 

“And this one—” a pink, flowery design “—is so like my late mother’s . . .”

The horn blasts again. A shiver goes up your spine, curiosity gone fevered. It sounds like his horn, doesn’t it? Could he have arrived? Could he be there? Used to hearing the horn from your cottage in the hills, hearing it from town right by the harbor makes it a deeper bray, nearer and more thrumming. There’s no way to know for sure if it’s him . . . besides going to the harbor to see. 

“But I just don’t know which to buy,” the little lady frets. Her hands shake, the cup thankfully soon nestled again amongst the straw in the crate. 

“Take your time,” you’d told her upon arriving, but that had been hours ago, and Law could be there. There would be no repeat of the reassurance. 

Through the blocked window, people pass. Your ear tilts toward their conversation, hoping for a clue that it might be him, it could be him. 

“—crane from the mill—”

“—mumblemumble new rope—”

What could that mean? What could that mean? 

Scooting to the edge of the overdressed chair, you set the teacup on its saucer on the table holding your crate. Of all the days to be asked to bring samples to the house-ridden! She’s a dear old lady, truly, but her tug on your heart is nothing like Law’s. Even the thought of Law holds a firmer sway than anything else. That it could be him. It could, it could. 

“Oh! I forgot that I made sandwiches for you.” The old lady primly brushes her skirt, gray curls bobbing around her face. “Would you fetch them from the kitchen? That’s a sweet girl, you are . . .”

It isn’t until the afternoon is nearly gone, with the crate under one arm where a receipt is tucked for the old lady’s long-awaited order, and a sandwich quarter in your mouth and two more in your hand, that you’re released from the stuffy prison. It could be days until the scent of patchouli leaves your nostrils, but that’s quickly forgotten as you dash down the dirt road toward the harbor. 

No ships. Not a single one. Not even a dingy or a buoy, bobbing in the waves that drift into the natural harbor from the sea. Skitting to a stop, you swallow a bite of sandwich thickly, misery pricking your eyelids. Well, it isn’t the first time you’ve been disappointed, but it won’t be the last . . . 

The bay is flanked on both sides by hills, reaching into the soft blue sky devoid of clouds. The summer greens the slopes like a painter’s brush, only the briefest tint of gold in the very tops of the highest trees hinting at change. It’s always been lovely, but then and there, it hurts like a weight in your belly. The horn could have been any passing ship . . . it could have resupplied and moved on twice over in the time you’d been delayed making a sale. If it had been Law, he would have stayed longer. So it hadn’t been him at all. Only a wish and a dream and now, it’ll be a lonely night on the bluffs with supper for one. 

Well, it’s nothing new. 

Turning from the barren harbor, you sigh, taking another bite of sandwich. It tastes of ash. And then your feet stop moving, stuck in place at the scene unfolding in front of your eyes. 

The lemon-yellow globe of the Polar Tang: not in the harbor at all, but lifted by a crane and secured on the earth with wooden stakes and numerous cords of rope. The reason it was hoisted from the sea is immediately obvious. The outer shell bears a deep scrape, the long shape reminiscent of a cat’s claw defending itself. White-suited crewmen dot around the ship; some around the scrape and some using brooms to clean algae from the belly of the Polar Tang. But among them, you don’t see Law. Was he—could he have been hurt? Or killed? Was the scrape deep enough to have flooded the ship with seawater? Or had the gushing pressure pulled him out? 

Sand drags at your feet, slowing your path to the Polar Tang until firm dirt and flattened grass replace it. Crockery clatters in your crate, which you set down beneath a tree for safekeeping, stuffing the last bit of sandwich into your mouth. 

“Shachi!” 

Shachi, mid-scrubbing a patch of darkened algae, stops, head turning until he sees you. He smiles, waving. “Did you hear the horn? Captain said you’d come and help clean up the ship.”

“Oh, did he?” Irritation—a fluttery, aching version of it—makes saying something clever or useful difficult. So he wasn’t hurt, or drowned. Relief overtakes the irritation. “Where’s Penguin?” 

“Getting kerosene for Ikkaku to start welding this shut.” Shachi jerks a thumb at the giant scrape. 

“What happened?”

“Sea monster.” He says it in a grim voice. “We were lucky to escape. Thought we were goners.”

“You must have been close to this island,” you say. “You couldn’t have gotten far in that condition.”

“Nope. We were headed here anyway. Captain had something he . . .” Shachi’s face goes visibly blank beneath his hat, as if thinking very hard, and apparently comes up short. 

“He what?” you prompt. 

“I’m not sure.”

With that helpful tidbit of information, you grimace. Shachi whistles too loudly and too obviously as he dips his broom again into a bucket of suds to resume scrubbing the algae. 

“Where is the Captain, Shachi?” you ask in a drone. 

“No idea.”

“Did he go into town?”

“Could’ve.” 

“Is he on the ship?”

“Don’t think so.” 

“Did you see him walking away?” Frustration makes your question shorter than intended. Shachi is likeable, as is everyone on the crew, but the vagueness of his answers while he was obviously hiding something tickles your temper. 

“No,” Shachi says, and you can’t tell if it’s a lie or not. 

You make it three stomps away, ready to start screaming for Law if he doesn’t magically appear, before Bepo appears, black eyes shining from his tufts of white fur. 

“Help us!” he pleads, clasping his paws together in front of him. “Pretty please, oh, please!” 

“How much will you pay me?” 

“Anything, anything!”

Of course, Bepo wouldn’t pay anything. Pay was decided by a ship’s captain. And this Captain was nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be bargained with. Besides, flirting about payment was reserved for Law and Law alone. A burst of laughter broke out between crew members (one of which soaked the other and then got a bash on the head from a broom in return.) With a sigh, you unbutton your jacket. 

“It looks like fun,” you tell Bepo. And sooner or later, Law will come back, and I want to see him. 

Without the skill to repair the tear in the ship’s hull, you’re regulated to a broom and soapy bucket. Boots stick out from beneath the ship, where it’s lifted by the wooden supports. Algae must be growing there, too. But you find a place far from Shachi to start scrubbing, wondering what exactly is directly inside the ship from where you are . . . 

Autumn might kiss the hilltops but the sun still beats the valley. Heat radiates from the metal ship, worsening the sweat that comes from hard work. The algae is stubborn, too, or the soap is weak. Other crew members work nearby, uniforms stripped to the waist in the heat; easy to talk to and easy to laugh with. Very few ask questions about you, and on the occasion that your eyes move from the ship to your companions, odd glints or curious tilts are visible in their visages. 

They know who I am. Or, they suspect something.

But why be embarrassed? It’s Law that should be embarrassed. 

With each portion of the Polar Tang back to shining yellow, you pick up your bucket and move to the next section. And the next. And the next. The blue of the sky darkens, the sun finally dipping beneath the hills to give some relief to your baked skin. 

“Has anyone got a ladder? A ladder?” But all the ladders are in use. You puff out tired breath, staring at the patch of algae higher up on the hull. The broom won’t reach it. 

He owes me for this. Big time. 

It’s different from Law helping with Fire Night. You aren’t sure how, yet, but it must be. 

“No ladder,” Bepo says regretfully, arms full of metal sheets meant for the welders. “But I can lift you up.” 

“May as well,” you say, preparing in your mind a speech to ask for gold bars or chests of jewels or something else a merchant captain wouldn’t be able to afford, just so he can think he wins when you settle for something simple. 

Bepo is a soft seat, mounds of warm fur around your legs where you sit on his shoulder. He holds your ankles in place, yawning loudly as you scrub, scrub, scrub the blasted algae. 

For no other reason, I will never own a ship. 

“It had giant yellow eyes,” Bepo says, a contented storyteller while he has the excuse of ‘helping’ in the basest sense of the word. “And I counted the fins on its belly—not two, or four, or six. Eight! Eight fins!”

“Did it bite the ship, then? Is that what happened? “Oh, no, it had terrible long arms and legs with claws longer than spears. Sharp, too. Fastest bugger I’ve ever seen. Couldn’t outrun it. Captain set a tricky little trap for it, but it barely worked, and if it hadn’t, we’d be halfway through the monster’s intestines by now.”

Bepo describes the trap; a sizable room that the monster had unwittingly swam into and consequently had its head severed from its body with its jaws wide open to bite the Polar Tang in half. It’s a gruesome scene, playing around in my mind, but with each close call fervently described, your stomach turns from what could have happened. 

“—only a few injuries, too,” Bepo says. He categorizes each one, the injured crew members taken to the doctor in town as soon as they’d docked. 

“Couldn’t your captain have healed them?” you ask. 

“Usually, but this time he was injured, too.” 

Injured? 

Injured?

Shachi had said nothing of injuries! Suddenly Law’s absence makes sense. Suddenly, your annoyance that he hasn’t made an appearance and you’ve been cleaning his ridiculous lemon of a ship isn’t so important. Without realizing, your scrubbing ceases, and it isn’t until Bepo glances up that you startle into the present. 

“Uh, are you done?” 

“Let her take a break already, Bepo.” A voice drawls from some distance, away, your heart skipping a beat. Bepo turns, taking your wobbly balance with him. Beneath the shady leaves of a tree, Law is stretched out. His hat lays on the grass next to him, fingers laced behind his head. Floppy, black hair hangs in front of his forehead and around his ears. Bandages stick out from his tank top. But he mustn’t be in mortal danger, if he’s snoozing beneath a tree. 

“How long have you been there?” you squawk. Bepo lowers you to the ground, rubbing the back of his furry neck once you’re firmly on your feet. 

“Long enough,” Law says. 

“And you didn’t say anything?” The broom clenches in your fist. Much like a weapon, if you knew how to wield one. But you could wield a broom, and that might be threatening enough. Stalking toward the tree, you scarcely notice the hive of crew around the ship going on with the chores. 

His eyes are slits, through which the gleam of his black eyes follows your approach. Something akin to a smile lifts one side of his mouth. 

“I was taking a nap,” he says. “Doctor’s orders.”

“You are the doctor!”

“Well, I’d better take my advice, hadn’t I?” Law yawns, covering his mouth with one tattooed hand. He winces when he lowers it. But his injuries are driven from your mind when you see what he’s laying on. 

“My pillow!” The shriek in your voice would embarrass you, another time, but fear and annoyance make those sorts of things seem unimportant. “Where did you get that?”

“From your bed, of course.” Law settles back into your pillow, against the tree. “An injured man like me can’t be expected to find bark comfortable, now can he?” He eyes the broom in your hand. 

“But my—but my—” Your voice trembles. “Where’s my crate of crockery?” This is the same tree you’d left it beneath. It was nowhere in sight. 

“At your cottage.”

“But—”

Now Law smiles, really smiles, but it isn’t the sweet smile that he gives you in private. It’s a wrenching, coy thing. “I thought you’d thank me for lugging that pottery up to your cottage for you.” 

You snort. “You haven’t lugged a day in your life.” 

“Well, I saved you from lugging it, then.” Law pauses. “I have a gift for you.”

“You owe me two,” you tell him. “I’ve been working for hours scrubbing your dumb ship.” 

“Oh, I’ll pay you back for that.” The low tone of his voice skitters across your skin. “But I need you to be patient with me. You can be patient, can’t you? I’m a bit laid-up at the moment.” 

“Your attitude seems to be in fine shape,” you say, dropping the broom. 

“And yours is unusually snappish. Didn’t you like Bepo’s company?”

“I like Bepo just fine. But I didn’t come looking for him.” 

“Oh?” That insinuation is in his voice again. “Well, I’m looking for something myself, too. Doctor’s orders, and all that.”

“Something? Not someone?” 

He means to tease, and unfortunately, he succeeds. The smirk makes his features arrogant. “Doctor says I need a real bed to rest in.” 

“There’s a hotel in town.” You bend over, reaching for your pillow—it’ll be covered in dirt now, the wretch—but Law pushes all his weight into it, and you try unsuccessfully to pull it free. His smirk is gone, eyes drifting to the neckline of your tank top. 

Hmm.

Grabbing the pillowcase with both hands, you pull again, lighter this time to mimic real effort. The action pushes your breasts closer together, bulging over the neckline. Success: Law’s throat bobs, eyes gone half-focused. Some of his weight loosens from the pillow. The tip of his tongue wets his lips. Bingo.

One final yank frees the pillow. Law’s eyes widen when his back hits the trunk of the tree. Smiling, one hand on your waist and the other tossing the pillow over your shoulder, you laugh. 

“You’re easier to best than you think,” you tease. 

“I let you best me,” Law counters. He’s smiling, too, with a tinge of that secret sweetness. 

“If you’re going to crash in my bed, which I assume you mean to, you’ve dirtied your own pillow,” you tell him. “I get the clean one.” 

“I can live with that.” 

You hold out a hand. Law stares, then reaches for it. With a heavy grunt he gets to his feet, swaying slightly as he clutches his middle. 

“Was it the sea monster?” you ask in a low voice. You want to reach out and touch the bandages; to see what damage is beneath, but he grips your hand too tightly. 

“No.” Irritation snaps his dark brows together. Then, grudgingly, he says, “A shelf fell on me while I was dealing with the sea monster.” 

His obvious mortification turns your amusement into hilarity. Laughing, you wrap his arm around your middle (for support, no other reason.) He leans against you, lips tight in a sign of long-suffering. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” you vow. 

“Yeah, but you’re gonna laugh about it every day for a week.” 

“I like to laugh. Thank you for giving me a reason.” 

Law is here. The bubbling joy of it makes laughter easy. Matching steps so that Law isn’t jostled too much is a tricky dance, but by the time the main road through town comes into sight, the pair of you are making better time. 

“Where will your crew stay?” you ask. “Or can they still bunk on the ship?”

“They can bunk on the ship,” he says. “Or beneath the stars—the weather is fair enough.”

“And the other injured?”

“At the hospital in town.”

“You didn’t want to stay at the hospital?”

“I don’t like watching other doctors work.” Law tries to shrug, but mostly he bumps you. “Telling them what they’re doing wrong makes them angry and angry doctors don’t take care.” 

He pants in your ear, walking clearly an effort. His face is pale, paler as night spreads across the sky.

“Kinda glad that monster got us,” he grunts. The road grows rockier out of town, the path winding up the hills. “I was expecting to have to leave in the morning, but since the ship’s got to have her maintenance until she’ll sail smooth again, we’re stuck here a while.” 

“Oh, no,” you say sympathetically. “I am so sorry. What a disappointment for your plans to fall apart like that . . .”

Law growls. You laugh. 

“What’s my gift?” you ask. 

“At your house.” A few more heavy steps up the hill. “I thought you’d be home. That’s why I went straight there. I wasn’t avoiding you.” The lack of harshness in his voice makes it more real—his sincerity. He’s trying to explain himself. Why you had to wait so long to see him. Why he wasn’t there when you were. Away from town, away from his crew—all that honesty comes easier out of him. 

And that heals a lot of wounds. 

“You don’t have to bring me presents, you know,” you tell him. “I only tease you about it because—because I only want to know that you think about me when you’re not here.” 

“Of course I think about you.” Law says it like it’s obvious. He sees it differently. He’s not the one that stays in one place, reliant on the other to come back, time and time again. He doesn’t know the fear of not knowing if there will be an again.

But sweet words and tender assurances don’t flower. It’s not his way. But when his body presses against yours and his breath tickles your ear and his fingertips press into your waist—words aren’t needed. Not really. But words remain longer than touches, and he only visits a few times a year . . . 

The cottage is dark. You hadn’t lit a fire before going into town early that morning, expecting to return long ago. Law sinks onto the edge of the bed with a soft groan. Starlight comes through the open window, making the angles of his face harsh. His eyes are closed. 

“I have tea for pain,” you say. Sure that he won’t topple over, you go to the fireplace first, to strike a flint against tinder. Golden light fills the cottage, driving out the night. 

“I’m fine.” 

Rather than argue, you prepare the tea: carrying the kettle outside to fill at the water pump, then hang on the iron crane bracketed into the brick around the fireplace. Dinner will be needed, too. Law stretches out on your bed, punching the dirty pillow into place beneath his head before slinging an arm over his eyes. 

“If you were in that much pain, you could have transported us here with that silly power of yours,” you tell him, crumbling willow bark into a mortar to grind into tea. 

“Wasn’t in pain then. Walk did me in.” 

“What kind of shelf was this, anyway?”

“Heavy one.” 

“When I imagine you in my bed, I don’t daydream nursing you back to health.”

“Lucky you.” His head tilts, favoring you with a smile across the cottage. Weak as he was, his smile is as potent as ever, and you nearly grind your thumb into the tea leaves. “But don’t worry. I’ve already thought about how we can get around this.”

“Oh?” 

“You can sit on my face.” 

“Oh, I see,” you say. Steam rises from the kettle, flames licking the bottom of it. “You’re expecting me to do all the work because—am I getting this right?—a little shelf just grazed your ribs.”

Law’s laugh is hoarse. You dump the tea into a mug. 

“I miss you when you’re not around,” he says. 

Silence. 

“You don’t have to leave every time,” you say. 

More silence. 

With a rag wrapped around your hand, you lift the kettle to pour a stream of water into the mug. Woodsy willow-scent fills your nose. Law doesn’t reply, not even when you carry the mug to the bed. His eyes are hooded, but they meet yours fearlessly. Stubborn man, but not so stubborn he refuses you. He sits up, face contorting in discomfort. 

“Let it cool for a little while,” you say, and that’s that. 

He’s out cold before the soup is done. Pity makes your stomach a heavy stone, watching firelight flicker on his pale face. One arm is draped over his middle, blankets pulled to his waist. His neck is kinked. What has he gone through, since the sea monster attack? Could this be his first prospect of uninterrupted sleep?

Yes, that’s most likely. A ship damaged as the shredded Polar Tang would need the captain to get it safely into harbor, not to mention his injured crew. Poor thing. 

He doesn’t move, while you prepare dinner and eat. He doesn’t move when you close the shutters and curtains and bank the fire. And he doesn’t move when you crawl into bed beside him, taking advantage of his silence to lay close to him. Not so close to bother any part of his body that might be hurting, but close enough to feel his warmth and presence, soothing the ache in your bones; the yearning for him.  

~

A/N: I have so much fun writing this pair that this particular "one shot" got out of hand lmao. The next part is half done already so it shouldn't be too long of a wait. LMK if you like it!

[rainia]

god I love dancing but I cannot deny that it does not always do good things to my body image my dudes

[cuteniaarts]

What a shame… you always had such beautiful hair

[siobhanromee]

had the most miserable experience today.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi lashing out on his pregnant wife only to beg her for forgiveness later

Pairing: Sanemi x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: Like every week, you find yourself on your way back from Shinobu's estate and your pregnancy check-up. Little did you know what horror awaits you at your own home with your husband almost killing two kids...

Warnings: Sanemi is mean in this one and I mean it, extreme hurt but also comfort in the end so don't worry, full Shinazugawa package regarding language and violence lol, not proofread because I have to leave now

Thank you sooo much for that cool request @itsmscoco and I'm sorry it took a while. I really hope you like what I came up with 🤍

You rub your minor belly. For a woman, a pregnancy should feel like a trip to heaven. After all, you are blessed with developing a child that is half you and half your husband. Oh, your beloved and surprisingly gentle husband who always makes sure that you get enough sleep, that you nutrition yourself properly. But even the wind hashira can’t do a single thing against your constant sickness and pain.

“Please try this out, (y/n). Don’t hesitate to come here again if you need something else. You really have an unfortunate pregnancy when it comes to nausea”, Shinobu comments gently while giving your belly a little massage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited about the honor of caring for a child in my own body. But honestly, I’m so glad when this pregnancy is over”, you huff while taking a deep breath in.

Please, don’t vomit all over the insect pillar who’s just trying to help. You’ve been here what feels like everyday since finding out you’re pregnant. Well, to be exact, Shinobu is the one who suggested that you might expect a child.

Because of your never-ending sickness.

“Oh, there’s nothing to get wrong at all! After all, your pregnancy is a rather difficult one. But I’m sure Shinazugawa is taking good care of you!”

“He definitely does. My husband is an angel”, you reply in an instant.

You can’t wait to go back home. Even though your sleep-drunken eyes won’t be able to stay open longer than maybe a few hours, even though you weren’t able to catch a proper glimpse at Sanemi’s part in the on-going hashira training until now, you can’t wait to go back home. Back into your estate, back into the arms of your beloved husband.

“Not quite the codename I’d use for him, but that’s just what love does, right? I will send a kakushi along with you. Otherwise, Shinazugawa might show up and threaten me”, Shinobu jokes while helping you to get up.

“Thank you for your help. Again.”

You pull the insect hashira into a deep hug. How lucky you should consider yourself for the opportunity to call Shinobu your friend, that Sanemi laid his eyes on you. Out of all the countless women around, the ones with faces like porcelain and bodies so well-formed you can’t hold a candle against every single one of them. But still, he chose you.

“Come on, (y/n). Why are you crying?”, Shinobo whispers into your ear while rubbing small circles onto your back.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed from everything I guess”, you mumble against her comforting shoulder.

Just a few months ago, you would have laughed at anyone who told you that your life would turn out like this. Of course, you’ve lost countless good friends and family members on the way and living with a suborn husband like Sanemi isn’t always easy. But somehow, the two of you always make it work.

Right?

-at the wind hashira estate-

“We are almost there. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired from walking, that’s all!”

Truth is, your feet hurt like hell. Shinobu reported about women who don’t even feel their baby until the second trimester. Why are your feet already swollen, your belly bloated, your guts constantly turning? And there’s still so much ahead.

“Looks like Shinazugawa-sama received a new bunch of trainees after the other corps members all landed in Kocho-sama’s hospital wing”, the kakushi next to you comments dryly.

“Was it really that bad?”

Of course you heard about the rather brutal training methods of your husband. After all, even the walls of his estate aren’t thick enough to stop every single scream from reaching your ears. But still…

“It was pretty bad. Some of the-“

Glass cracking. Screams from afar. Out of instinct, you pick up your pace until you dash towards your home, sweat now dripping from every pore. What happened? Is Sanemi alright? He wouldn’t leash out on one of his students like that. Something must have happened. A demon? No, it’s still daytime. But what is it?

“He’s back! He’s back! That cold-blooded man! Lie down and pretend that you’ve fainted!”, a blonde-haired boy screams while almost collapsing onto the floor.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?”, you press out.

Your lungs threaten to fail you, breath already tasting like pure iron.

Until your eyes find Genya.

Your guts twist and turn in every direction, almost force you to vomit all over the place. Genya shouldn’t be here. Out of all people, it shouldn’t be him. And who’s the boy next to him. That familiar scar, you’ve seen that boy before. Is it possible that…

“Kamado Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Maybe that is even worse.

Your eyes dart around the area without an aim. Where’s Sanemi? Did he find them already? They need to leave before he finds out that they’re here, carry on with another hashira training.

“Please stop now!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouts while stretching out his arm in defence.

An uneasy feeling crawls up your spine, the dark claws of sickening foreshadowing. All you can do is standing death still right where you are and watch in sheer horror as your husband stomps out of your estate motion.

Is that your husband you love and adore, though? You know how untamed he can get especially when getting confronted with his painful past. It was never easy for him to see Genya join the demon slayer corps or realize that his mother could have been saved like Tanjiro’s sister.

But never in your entire life have you seen him like this. The empty shell of your husband, muscles tensed to the maximum and his empty orbs directed towards the two boys in front of him.

In this very moment, you’d trust him to actually kill them.

“What are you going to do? Are you planning to kill Genya?”, Tanjiro continues passionately.

Your glossy orbs are set on your husband. Would he really do something like that? What if you witness the father of your unborn child taking the life of two other human beings? Your heart can’t take it, knees threaten to fail you.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill him. It would be easy enough to kill him, but since it’s against the rules and all…I’m going to ruin him beyond recovery!”

Until your blurry head finally makes a decision and allows your feet to run.

Straight towards the two boys.

Straight into the firing line.

Straight into the sight of your now maniac husband.

“You won’t do any of these things, you hear me?”, you jeer at him with your new-found courage.

“(y/n)”, Genya breathes behind you.

“How dare you to talk to innocent children like that, Sanemi?”

The man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, hands clenched into tight fists while taking a step towards you.

“Get lost. Right now”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You swallow hard, all nerves now tingling in sheer horror. This is the first and last warning, without any doubt. The look on his stone-cold face tells you more than urgently that Sanemi isn’t playing, that he doesn’t want you here.

Maybe it’s best if you go back inside and pretend that nothing happened. He himself said that he won’t kill them, after all…

“I’m not leaving”, you bite back.

But that would mean leaving Genya alone. That would mean giving up all of your principles.

“Will you act out like this towards our child as well?”, you continue while growing bigger and bigger in front of the two boys.

He might be your husband, the love of your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll always have to do what he tells you, tough. Instinctively, you clench your hands into tight fists with your glossy eyes almost piercing through him. Enough is enough.

“If our child acts as dumb as you do, I sure as hell will!”

Oh.

Your heart drops to the floor when a nauseous wave of agony hits you with full force. Sanemi is and has always been a hot-headed man who never thought twice about the things he said. But never, not even once in your entire relationship he insulted you.

Until now.

“Is this really how you feel about me? We should support each other, you should listen to me as well as-“

“Spare me with that bullshit, (y/n)”, Sanemi spits at you.

“Get.out.of.the.way. Can’t you hear me?”

It’s like you stop living for a moment. All this time, you did your best to understand him and his grief. Everything Sanemi does comes with a logical reason behind it, even though it’s hard to see from time to time. But lashing out at you like that?

“Stop being so disrespectful to me right now. I am your wife-“

“Right now, you’re my problem”, he jeers back.

“And now get off my sight and let me finish this real quick-“

You don’t know what made you act the way you just did. Was it his cruel behaviour, the way his words cut through your heart like a thousand knives? Before your husband is even able to finish his sentence, your palm races towards his cheek with full force.

The world around you goes silent, frightful gazes glued onto you while you can’t stop your tears from falling anymore.

“Is this how you’re acting around your pregnant wife by now, how you’ll treat innocent children? If that’s the live you chose, I’m not a part of it anymore”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the urge to get as far away from him as possible becomes unbearable. Your feet start sprinting towards the estate on your own, carry you into your now so empty-feeling bedroom.

And finally, you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Is this really the man you love, that you’d give your life for? Your shaky fingers caress your belly mindlessly.

You can’t stay here. Not when Sanemi showed you a completely different face today. Not when this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

-a few hours later-

“Fuck!”, Sanemi cries out on top of his lungs while dashing towards Obanai over and over.

Why can’t he get your stupid words out of his mind? The way you stood there with tears in your eyes, how he was literally able to hear your heart crack when those damned words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, to drag you into the fuckery with his little brother and that Kamado boy.

But why did he say all those dumb things, then?

“You seem off, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly, hitting the wind hashira with full force again.

“I guess I fucked up”, Sanemi mumbles.

What if you won’t forgive him for today? Your last words haunt him since the moment you left him standing in the rain.

“I bet you can talk your way out of it-“

“Hell nah. I don’t think she wants to see me tonight.”

“Did you ask her, though?”

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re the one to talk, not able to confess your feelings to Mitsuri”, Sanemi barks at the man next to him.

“But yeah, maybe I should get going…”

Coming home never fuelled him with so much fright. What if you’re still angry at him, if you refuse to even talk to him? Or even worse, what if you’ll really leave him?

Sanemi’s guts turn in an instant, feet now picking up their pace with every step. He can’t lose you. Not you, the light of his life. Not when you are the only ray of sunshine in this rotting hell. What the hell did he do? The fact that he even raised his voice at you is unforgivable.

Finally, his fingers grab the door that leads to your shared bedroom, finally he’s able to make up for his mistakes of today-

His eyes widen in sheer horror.

You’re gone.

Right there where your head should rest, there’s absolutely nothing.

Panic starts rising up his chest, forces his heart down his throat.

Did you leave?

He yanks out of your shared room, eyes roaming around each and every corner of your estate. But you aren’t there. You aren’t here.

“My lady is at the love hashira’s estate.”

Sanemi darts up immediately, greeted by the oh so familiar voice of your personal crow.

“Is she fine, why did she-“

“With all due respect, I suggest you to control yourself before making any more insensitive comments to my lady-“

“Who the hell do you even think you are you-“

“Your earlier spoken words really troubled her and my lady certainly does not deserve that.”

Without another word, your crow disappears into the darkness of night again.

Sanemi swallows hard. Fuck, did he really hurt you that badly? He never wanted you to feel bad, never wanted to hurt you. Damn, he only wanted to show Genya and that Kamado boy their places. It shouldn’t have hit you. Out of all people, why did he have to hurt you?

“I need to tell her”, he mumbles under his breath before dashing towards the love hashira estate.

-at Mitsuri’s-

“I can’t believe Shinazugawa said something like this to you, (y/n)! You are super far away from being dumb, after all! Here, eat another pancake and stay as long as you want.”, Mitsuri babbles while handing you another plate.

Your dry eyes are barely able to stay open any longer. All the grief, explaining, fighting and crying did apparently really wear you out. Good for you Mitsuri’s estate is near by and you just know she’ll always open her arms for you.

“Thank you so much for taking me in, Kanroji. I really don’t deserve your kindness”, you sniffle.

“You have to be joking, (y/n)! It’s my duty as your friend to be there for you anytime you need me! And also, I-”

Three violent knocks on Mitsuri’s wooden door almost send you over the edge. It’s past after midnight, the time closer to the morning than evening. Who would knock on Mitsuri’s door this late at night?

“Do you think that’s a demon?”, you mutter in horror, both pairs of eyes set on the door.

“I don’t think so. Let’s see!”

Before you’re able to stop Mitsuri, she rips open the door.

And reveals no other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Tears start swelling up your eyes in an instant when a flood of memories crushes you all over again. Just a few hours ago, your husband made very clear that he doesn’t want to see you again anytime soon. How did he find out that you’re here?

“(y/n), can we…have a talk?”, he mumbles with icy voice.

“Do you want to leave me?”, you blurt out.

“What?”

Is that really how you feel, what you think of him? That he’ll turn his back on you after a fight? He did say all those nasty things to you, though.

“I think I’m going out and…cook!”, Mitsuri announces while sprinting out of the door, leaving you alone in the room with all that tension and him.

Him, the man you love more than anything else in this world. And also him, who broke your heart like he never did before.

“You have to be kidding me”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

You turn away before you lose your composure completely.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?”

“Do you really think I’m here to dump you!? You, my pregnant wife!? You can’t be fucking serious about that!”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself surrounded by his usual so comforting arms that now hurt like daggers against your skin.

“Please, let me go, I can’t do this ri-“

“(y/n), please.”

His suffocated voice forces your eyes to dart upwards.

Instantly, your heart drops to the floor.

Is this really your husband, crying against your shoulder while pressing your body against his?

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, I’m sorry for making you feel this way. I’d never leave you, not when I’m even lucky for calling you mine. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just…I just can’t stand them…”

“Sanemi…”

“And I get that I don’t deserve you and that I’m a jerk for hurting you. I know you could’ve had every man you wanted-“

“Sanemi!”, you snap at him, holding onto his face tightly.

“But you’re the one I want”, you finally cry out.

“But your words hurt me. Is this really how you feel about me? Do you really think I’m a burden?”

“I was out of my fucking mind for saying that to you! You’re my blessing, my everything, the sunshine in this rotting hell. You’re…You’re my wife, right?”

That innocent look on his now tear-soaked face runs shivers down your spine, reminds you that even though he acted out today, this man is still the Sanemi Shinazugawa you fell in love with years ago.

“I am your wife”, you press out before a new wave of tears haunts you down.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). So so sorry”, he mutters again and again while kissing every tear away that escapes your eyes.

“And I’ll never talk to you like that again, I promise.”

“Will you promise to not treat Tanjiro and Genya like that ever again too?”

Sanemi shifts his weight underneath you, his orbs growing hard again. Was this too much to ask for? No. Even though you love Sanemi’s rough side as well, he simply can’t do something like this again. Not when you’re his wife, not when you are expecting his first very own child.

“I will. But only if these jerks leave me alone”, he grumbles before giving you a passionate kiss.

“That might be manageable. I want to go home now…”

“No problem, I’ll carry you-“

“You really don’t have to carry me-“

“Oh, but I sure as hell will.”

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU TWO! AND DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK AGAIN, SHINAZUGAWA!”

“Did you have to tell her everything?”

“She’s my friend, Sanemi. Of course I had to.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[harrysfolklore]

christ-max -mv1

summary: you invite your boyfriend max to spend christmas with you for the first time, however, your family doesn't quite believe you're dating a formula 1 world champion. wc: 5.8k

folkie radio: HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOUUUU! i hope you're having the best day ever with your loves ones. this fic ended up being longer than i intended but i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You're nestled into Max's side on his couch, wrapped in the soft throw blanket he keeps specifically for these quiet moments together. The afternoon light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Monaco apartment, casting a glow across the room. Your feet are tucked under you, and you can smell the lingering scent of the coffee you both made earlier.

The Netflix show you'd put on - some random documentary about deep-sea creatures - has become mere background noise. Max's fingers are threading through your hair in that gentle way that always makes you melt, occasionally stopping to massage your scalp. .

"I can't believe the season's actually over," you murmur, tracing lazy patterns on his arm. "Feels weird not having to plan around race weekends anymore."

Max chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rests. "Yeah, but now we have to plan around all the end-of-year events instead. Did you see how many galas and ceremonies are coming up?"

"At least those don't involve you flying halfway across the world," you tease, tilting your head to look up at him. His hair is slightly messy, free from its usual styling, and you resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers through it.

"True," he agrees, then glances at his phone on the coffee table. "Speaking of events, I can't believe it's already December. Christmas is going to be here before we know it. Guess time flies when you're busy winning championships."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the opening you've been waiting for. You've been thinking about this for weeks, planning how to bring it up. "Actually… I wanted to ask you something about Christmas," you start, sitting up slightly to face him better.

Max's blue eyes meet yours, curious. "What's on your mind?"

"Well…" you bite your lip, suddenly feeling nervous despite knowing there's no reason to be. "I was wondering if you'd want to spend Christmas with me and my family this year? I know we've kept things private, but I really want them to meet you, and-"

"Wait, really?" Max interrupts, his whole face lighting up with that boyish excitement that made you fall for him in the first place. "You want me to meet your family?"

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Of course I do. We've been together almost a year now, and they keep asking why I'm always smiling at my phone." You playfully poke his side. "Which is your fault, by the way."

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers. "My fault? I'm just being my naturally charming self," he grins, then his expression turns slightly more serious. "But are you sure? I mean, won't they be surprised when you show up with, well…"

"With a four-time World Champion?" you finish for him, laughing. "Actually, my dad might pass out. He's been watching F1 since before I was born. He has no idea I've been dating his favorite driver."

Max's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm his favorite driver?"

"Don't let it go to your head," you warn playfully. "But yeah, he's got your merchandise and everything. It's actually kind of embarrassing how much he talks about you during race weekends."

Max throws his head back laughing, and you can't help but join in. "Oh God, this is going to be interesting," he says, wiping at his eyes. "What about the rest of your family?"

"Well, Mom will probably try to feed you until you burst - she's like that with everyone. And my little sister Ruby, she's seven and she's going to have so many questions. She's in that phase where she wants to know everything about everything."

"I can handle questions," Max says confidently, then hesitates. "What kind of questions are we talking about?"

You pretend to think about it. "Oh, you know, probably things like 'How fast have you ever driven?' 'Have you ever crashed?' 'Do you want to marry my sister?'"

Max nearly chokes on air at the last one, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "You're joking, right?"

"About Ruby? Nope, she has absolutely no filter," you laugh, then soften your voice. "But seriously, they're going to love you. Just be yourself - the you I know, not the racing driver everyone else sees."

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'd love to spend Christmas with your family. I can't wait to meet them." He pauses, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Should I wear my race suit when I meet your dad?"

You swat his arm, laughing. "Don't you dare! He'll actually faint." You settle back against his chest, feeling warm and content. "Thank you for saying yes. It means a lot to me."

"Thank you for asking me," he murmurs into your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too," you respond, smiling as his arms tighten around you. The documentary continues playing, forgotten again as you both start planning for Christmas, trading ideas and jokes about how to break the news to your family.

You're sitting cross-legged on Max's bed while he's in the shower, your phone propped up against a pillow as you FaceTime your family. Your mom's face fills most of the screen, with your dad peering over her shoulder and little Ruby bouncing around trying to get a better view.

"Honey, we can barely see you. The lighting is terrible," your mom critiques, and you adjust your position slightly.

"Better?"

"Much better! Now, what's this important thing you wanted to tell us about Christmas?" Your mom asks, while Ruby shouts "Is it presents?" in the background.

You take a deep breath, trying to contain your smile. "Well, I wanted to let you know that I'm bringing someone with me this year… my boyfriend."

There's an immediate explosion of excitement. Ruby starts jumping up and down, your mom gasps dramatically, and your dad's eyebrows shoot up with interest.

"Finally!" your mom exclaims. "We've been wondering when you'd introduce him. You've been so secretive about this boyfriend of yours."

"What's his name?" Ruby pipes up, her face suddenly taking up half the screen as she pushes closer to the camera. "Is he nice? Does he like Disney movies?"

You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, Rubes, he's very nice. And his name is…" you pause, knowing what's coming. "Max. Max Verstappen."

There's a moment of silence before your dad bursts out laughing. "Good one, sweetheart. Now, what's his real name?"

"I'm serious, Dad. I'm dating Max Verstappen."

Your mom is trying to hold back her laughter now too. "Honey, isn't that the racing driver you and your father are always watching? The one your dad has all those caps and shirts of?"

"Yes, and I'm actually dating him," you insist, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Ruby's face scrunches up in confusion. "The fast car man? From TV?"

"The very same one, Rubes."

Your dad wipes tears from his eyes. "Come on now, what's next? Are you going to tell us you're best friends with Lewis Hamilton too?"

"Dad!" you groan, running a hand over your face. "I'm being serious! We've been dating for almost a year. I'm literally at his place right now!"

"In Monaco?" your dad asks skeptically. "Prove it."

You swing your phone around to show the familiar view of Monaco through the windows, but your dad just shakes his head. "Could be any apartment in Monaco."

"You're impossible!" you huff. "Fine, don't believe me. You'll see at Christmas."

Ruby presses her face closer to the screen again. "Will he bring his race car?"

"No, Rubes, he can't bring the race car," you say, softening your tone for your little sister. "But I promise you'll love him."

After a few more minutes of your family teasing you about your "imaginary Formula 1 driver boyfriend," you end the call with a mix of frustration and amusement. Just as you flop back onto the bed, you hear the bathroom door open and Max walks out, his hair still damp from the shower.

"How'd it go?" he asks, noticing your expression.

You let out a laugh. "They think I'm making you up. They literally don't believe I'm dating you."

Max raises his eyebrows, looking amused as he sits next to you on the bed. "Really?"

"Really. Dad laughed so hard he nearly cried. And Ruby, my little sister, just wants to know if you're bringing your race car for Christmas."

"Sorry to disappoint Ruby," he grins, then looks thoughtful. "You know, maybe we should've waited to tell them in person. The looks on their faces would've been priceless."

"Oh, don't worry," you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. "They'll still be priceless. Dad's going to lose it when he realizes all those times he was rambling about you during races, he was actually talking about his daughter's boyfriend."

Max laughs, pulling you closer. "What else should I know before meeting them?"

"Well, Ruby's seven and obsessed with Frozen. She'll definitely make you watch it and probably sing along too."

"I can handle that," he says confidently.

"And recite all the lines?"

"…Maybe not that."

"And act out the scenes with her?"

Max's eyes widen slightly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

You kiss his cheek. "Too late to back out now, Verstappen. You're stuck with us."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he murmurs, pulling you in for a proper kiss. "Even if it means playing Olaf the snowman."

"Oh no, you'll definitely be playing Elsa. Ruby's very particular about casting."

The look of horror on his face makes you burst out laughing, and soon he's joining in too. As your laughter dies down, you can't help but think about how perfect this feels - being here with him, planning to spend Christmas with your family, even if they don't believe you yet. You can't wait to see their faces when you show up at their door with Max Verstappen himself.

"Hey," Max says softly, breaking into your thoughts. "What are you smiling about?"

"Just thinking about how Christmas is going to be interesting this year."

"Interesting is one way to put it," he grins. "Should I wear my race suit when we arrive?"

"Don't you dare! Dad will actually faint."

"That's kind of the point," he winks, and you grab a pillow to hit him with, both of you dissolving into laughter again.

"Let me guess, another text from 'Max Verstappen'?" your dad teases from his spot at the kitchen counter, making air quotes with his fingers. He's wearing one of his many Red Bull Racing shirts, completely oblivious to the irony.

"Actually, yes," you reply, rolling your eyes. "He'll be here soon."

Your mom chuckles while peeling potatoes. "Honey, you can just tell us who your boyfriend really is. We won't judge, even if he's not a Formula 1 champion."

"Mom, I've told you a million times-"

"LOOK!" Ruby crashes into the kitchen, pointing at the TV in the living room where they're showing highlights from the last race. "It's YN's boyfriend!" She dissolves into giggles, clearly in on what she thinks is a funny joke.

"Very funny, Rubes," you mutter, but check your phone again when it buzzes.

Max: "Just turned onto your street. Nice neighborhood 😉"

Your heart starts beating faster. "He's here," you announce, heading toward the front door.

"Oh, we're still doing this?" your dad calls after you, amused. "Should I get my Max Verstappen cap for him to sign?"

"Actually, Dad, yes, you should," you shout back, slipping on your boots.

"Sweetie," your mom starts in that gentle voice she uses when she thinks you're being ridiculous, "you don't have to-"

The sound of a car pulling up interrupts her. You open the front door and step out onto the porch, watching as Max's car comes to a stop in your driveway. Your family has crowded behind you in the doorway, probably expecting to catch you in your "lie."

Max steps out of the car, looking unfairly handsome in his dark winter coat and scarf. His face lights up when he sees you, and you don't hesitate to run down the steps toward him.

"Hi," he grins, catching you in a tight hug and lifting you slightly off your feet. "Missed you."

You hear a loud gasp behind you, followed by what sounds like your dad choking on air.

"Missed you too," you murmur against his chest before turning to face your family, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist.

The scene on your front porch is priceless. Your dad's mouth is hanging open, his face pale except for two bright red spots on his cheeks. Your mom has both hands pressed to her face in shock. Ruby is the only one moving, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"IT REALLY IS THE FAST CAR MAN!" she shrieks, breaking the silence as she barrels down the steps toward you both.

Max laughs, crouching down to her level. "Hi Ruby. Nice to finally meet you. Your sister has told me a lot about you."

"You're real!" she exclaims, poking his arm as if to make sure.

"Very real," he confirms, looking thoroughly amused.

"I… you… but…" your dad stammers, still frozen in the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. LN," Max says, standing back up and guiding you and Ruby toward the porch. "Thank you for having me for Christmas."

Your mom seems to snap out of her shock first. "Oh my goodness, please come in! It's freezing out here. I… oh dear… the potatoes… I should… more food… I need to…"

"Mom, breathe," you laugh, as Max follows you inside.

Your dad hasn't moved an inch, still staring at Max like he's seeing a ghost. "You're… you're actually… the Brazil overtake…"

"Dad, no F1 talk yet!" you warn. "Let him at least get his coat off first."

"Right! Yes! Coat!" your dad says frantically. "I'll take your coat! And then maybe… could you… would you mind signing my…"

"Collection?" you finish for him, smirking. "The one you thought I was making up?"

Max raises his eyebrows at you, remembering your conversation about your dad's merchandise collection.

Ruby tugs on Max's hand. "Do you want to see my Frozen dolls? And can we watch the movie? Sissy said you've never seen it!"

"Ruby, let him settle in first," your mom calls from the kitchen, where she appears to be panic-cooking. "Oh God, is the food good enough? Do Formula 1 drivers have special diets? Should I-"

"Mom, the food will be perfect," you assure her, then turn to Max. "See? I told you they'd be cool about it."

Max tries to suppress his laugh as your dad continues to stare at him in awe, your mom stress-cooks enough food to feed an army, and Ruby continues pulling on his hand.

"Very cool," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Though I think your dad might need to sit down."

"I'm fine!" your dad squeaks, then immediately sits down heavily on the nearest chair. "Just… just give me a minute to process that my daughter is actually dating Max Verstappen and I've been accidentally talking about my future son-in-law during every race and-"

"DAD!" you exclaim, feeling your face heat up while Max chuckles beside you.

"What? I'm just saying… all those times I said 'that Verstappen boy would make someone a good husband someday' and it turns out-"

"Okay!" you interrupt loudly. "Who wants coffee? Max, come help me with coffee!"

As you drag a laughing Max toward the kitchen, you hear Ruby start explaining the entire plot of Frozen to him, your mom muttering about needing to buy more food, and your dad still talking to himself about racing statistics.

"Still think this was a good idea?" you whisper to Max.

He pulls you closer, grinning. "The best. Though you might want to tell your dad to breathe before he passes out."

"Can we build a snowman after coffee?" Ruby calls out.

"Only if Max gets to be Elsa!" you shout back, earning you a playful glare from your boyfriend.

Looking around at your slightly chaotic but loving family, and seeing how naturally Max fits into it all, you can't help but smile. This is definitely going to be a Christmas to remember.

The initial chaos has settled into a cozy scene in your living room. You're curled up on the couch next to Max, who has Ruby practically attached to his side. She hasn't stopped talking since everyone sat down, and Max, to his credit, is giving her his complete attention.

"And then Elsa makes this huge ice castle," Ruby explains, using elaborate hand gestures. "Can you drive as fast as Elsa runs up the mountain?"

"Probably faster," Max answers with a grin, making Ruby's eyes widen.

"Even in the snow?"

"Even in the snow."

Your dad, who's finally regained his ability to form complete sentences, sits in his armchair trying very hard not to bombard Max with racing questions. He keeps opening his mouth, then closing it again when you give him a warning look.

"It's okay, Dad," you laugh. "You can ask him one race question. Just one."

Your dad looks like he might cry from happiness. "The overtake in Brazil-"

"Which one?" Max asks with a playful smirk, and your dad launches into an enthusiastic discussion about racing lines and grip levels.

Your mom returns from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies, having finally accepted that she doesn't need to cook enough food for an entire F1 paddock. "Here we go. I hope it's okay, Max. YN mentioned you like hot chocolate."

"It's perfect, thank you," Max says warmly, accepting a mug.

Ruby immediately reaches for a cookie, then pauses. "Do race car drivers eat cookies?"

"Only the fast ones," Max whispers conspiratorially, making her giggle.

"Ruby, give Max some space to breathe," your mom says gently, noticing how your sister is practically in his lap.

"It's fine," Max assures her. "I have nephews. I'm used to it."

Ruby beams at this information. "Really? Do they like Frozen too?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure they'd love to hear your explanation of it," he says, and Ruby launches into another detailed plot summary.

You catch your mom watching the interaction with soft eyes, all her earlier panic forgotten. She meets your gaze and mouths 'He's wonderful' when Ruby isn't looking.

Your dad has moved on from Brazil to discussing tire strategies, but stops himself mid-sentence. "Sorry, I'm probably boring you. You live this stuff."

"Not at all," Max says sincerely. "It's nice talking about it with someone who understands racing. YN usually just tells me to stop being a nerd when I talk about tire compounds."

"Because you spent two hours explaining the difference between C3 and C4 compounds!" you defend yourself.

"It's fascinating stuff," your dad says eagerly, and Max nods in agreement.

"Oh no, there's two of them now," you mutter to your mom, who laughs.

Ruby tugs on Max's sleeve. "Can we watch Frozen now? Please? You promised!"

"Ruby, let Max rest a bit," your mom starts, but Max shakes his head.

"A promise is a promise," he says solemnly to Ruby. "Should we watch it now?"

Ruby squeals with delight, jumping up to get the remote. Your dad looks slightly disappointed that his racing talk is being cut short, but you can see him hiding a smile at Ruby's excitement.

"Fair warning," you whisper to Max as Ruby sets up the movie, "she knows every word. And she will sing along."

"As long as she doesn't expect me to sing," he whispers back.

"MAX!" Ruby calls, patting the spot next to her on the floor where she's arranged pillows. "You have to sit here! It's the best spot!"

Max obliges, settling down next to her while you stay on the couch, exchanging amused looks with your parents as Ruby starts the movie, already mouthing along to the opening music.

Your mom leans over to you. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you," she whispers. "He's lovely. And so good with Ruby."

"I told you," you whisper back, watching as Ruby explains to Max why Elsa has ice powers.

Your dad joins in the whispered conversation. "Think he'd sign my mug collection later?"

"Dad!"

"What? I'm just saying, Christmas cards would be sorted for the next few years…"

You're about to respond when Ruby shushes you all loudly. "This is the best part!"

Max catches your eye and winks, clearly enjoying himself despite being roped into a Disney movie viewing with a very enthusiastic seven-year-old commentator. Your heart swells watching him with your family, how naturally he fits in, how gentle he is with Ruby.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Ruby starts singing along with the movie.

"Later, Rubes," you promise. "Let's watch the movie first."

She nods seriously, then turns to Max. "Pay attention to this part. It's very important."

"I won't miss a second," he promises, and Ruby beams at him before turning back to the screen.

Your mom reaches over and squeezes your hand, giving you a knowing look. Even your dad has stopped thinking about racing long enough to appreciate the moment – his youngest daughter sharing her favorite movie with your boyfriend, who happens to be the F1 driver he's been fan-boying over for years.

It's perfect, you think, watching your family and Max together. Different from how you imagined telling them, but perfect nonetheless.

"Shh!" Ruby whispers loudly. "Elsa is about to sing Let It Go!"

Max shoots you a slightly panicked look as Ruby starts to stand up, clearly ready to perform the whole number. You just grin and shrug. After all, you did warn him about the singing.

Later that evening, you finally manage to steal a moment alone with Max. Ruby had fallen asleep during the third replay of Frozen, and your parents took her up to bed before retreating to the kitchen to finish some Christmas preparations.

You find Max on the back porch, leaning against the railing and looking up at the stars. The winter air is crisp, and you can see his breath forming little clouds in the darkness. Quietly, you step out and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back.

"Hey," he says softly, turning in your arms to face you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Needed a little break from being Elsa?"

You laugh quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "You were amazing with Ruby today. I think you're officially her new favorite person."

"She's a sweet kid," he smiles, then adds with a playful glint in his eyes, "Though I didn't expect to watch Frozen two times in one day."

"Just wait until tomorrow. She'll probably want to act it out."

He groans dramatically, but you can see the fondness in his expression. "The things I do for you."

"Mmm, and I appreciate every one of them," you murmur, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

Max responds immediately, one hand moving to cup your face while the other pulls you even closer. The kiss is gentle and unhurried, full of unspoken emotions. When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For being so perfect with my family. For watching Frozen multiple times. For not running away when my dad started his racing commentary."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I like your family. Your dad's racing knowledge is impressive, your mom's trying very hard not to mother me to death, and Ruby…" he pauses, smiling. "Ruby reminds me of Victoria at that age."

You snuggle closer, seeking his warmth in the cold air. "I was so nervous about telling them, and then even more nervous when they didn't believe me. But this… this is better than I imagined."

"Even with your dad asking me to sign his entire Red Bull merchandise collection?"

"Hey, at least he waited until after dinner," you laugh. "Though I'm pretty sure he's in there right now planning which items to bring out first."

Max wraps his arms more securely around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you," he says quietly, and your heart skips a beat like it does every time he says those words.

"I love you too," you reply, tilting your face up for another kiss.

This one is deeper, more passionate, until you hear the back door creak and quickly step apart.

"Oh!" your mom exclaims, looking flustered. "Sorry, I just… wanted to ask about breakfast preferences… but it can wait… carry on!"

She disappears back inside, and you both burst into quiet laughter.

"We should probably go back in," you sigh, though you make no move to leave his embrace.

"Probably," he agrees, but instead of letting go, he pulls you back for one more kiss. "Five more minutes?"

You smile against his lips. "Five more minutes."

In the quiet of Christmas eve, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but think how perfectly he fits into your life, into your family, into your heart. Tomorrow there'll be more Frozen, more racing talk, more of Ruby's endless questions, but right now, it's just the two of you, and it's everything.

The winter sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains of your childhood bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You're wrapped in warmth, nestled against Max's chest with his arm draped around your waist. His steady breathing tells you he's awake before he even moves.

"Good morning," he murmurs against your neck, his voice still rough with sleep. His lips brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Morning," you whisper back, feeling his hand slowly slide beneath your sleep shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Sleep well?" he asks innocently, but his actions are anything but innocent as he presses closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

"Max," you breathe, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and knowing you should stop. "We can't… my parents…"

"Then we'll have to be very, very quiet," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. His hand travels higher under your shirt, making your breath hitch.

You turn in his arms, ready to either give in or properly protest - though the way he's looking at you, eyes dark with desire and that signature smirk playing on his lips, makes you lean heavily toward the former.

"You're trouble," you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair.

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "You love it."

Just as his hand starts to wander again, a voice pierces through the quiet morning:

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAS!" Ruby's excited scream echoes through the entire house, followed by the thundering of small feet running down the hallway. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! SANTA CAME!"

Max drops his forehead to your shoulder with a frustrated groan. "Your sister has impeccable timing."

"Welcome to Christmas with Ruby," you laugh, pressing a consoling kiss to his cheek. "I tried to warn you."

"YN! MAX!" Ruby's fists pound on your door. "GET UP! There are presents EVERYWHERE! And it SNOWED!"

"Five more minutes, Rubes!" you call back.

"NO MINUTES! NOW!" she insists, continuing to knock. "Mom said breakfast is ready and Dad made hot chocolate and I SAW A HUGE PRESENT WITH MY NAME ON IT!"

Max chuckles against your shoulder. "I suppose we should…"

"PLEASE!" Ruby calls again. "I promise I'll let you drink your coffee first!"

"That's quite the offer from her," you tell Max. "She usually doesn't allow any delays on Christmas morning."

"We're coming, Ruby!" Max calls out, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Give us two minutes to get dressed."

"TWO MINUTES! I'm counting!"

You can hear her dramatically counting down in the hallway, making Max laugh. "She's serious about this, isn't she?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

The living room is a festival of color and chaos when you finally make it downstairs. Ruby's bouncing by the tree in her Christmas pajamas, while your parents are settled on the couch with steaming mugs of coffee.

"Finally!" Ruby exclaims. "I counted way past two minutes!"

"Sorry, princess," Max says, accepting a coffee mug from your mom. "But I'm here now."

"Max, sweetheart, you really didn't have to get us anything," your mom says, noticing the pile of presents he'd arranged under the tree last night.

"Of course I did," he replies warmly. "It's Christmas."

Ruby's practically vibrating with excitement as your dad starts distributing gifts. "Can I open mine from Max first? Please?"

At your nod, she tears into the elaborate wrapping paper, gasping when she reveals a beautiful wooden chest with golden details. "It's like a treasure chest!"

"Open it," Max encourages, smiling.

Ruby lifts the lid carefully, her eyes widening. Inside is a complete collection of princess dresses, each one a perfect replica from different Disney movies, along with matching accessories and a tiara for each one.

"The chest is magical," Max explains, kneeling beside her. "Every time you open it, there might be a new surprise inside. And look at this…" He reaches in and pulls out a small envelope.

Ruby opens it to find a letter with the Disney castle letterhead. "Dear Princess Ruby," she reads aloud, her voice getting more excited with each word. "You are cordially invited to spend a royal weekend at Disney World, where you will have a private breakfast with all the Disney princesses…"

She doesn't even finish reading before launching herself at Max, nearly knocking him over. "Thank you thank you thank you! Can I try on the Elsa dress right now?"

"After presents," your mom laughs. "Let's see what else Santa brought."

Your dad opens his gift next, finding an envelope that makes him pause. "Son," he says, voice thick with emotion as he reads the contents. "This is…"

"VIP passes to the British Grand Prix," Max confirms. "Including garage access, grid walk, everything."

Your dad has to sit down, clutching the passes like they might disappear. "This is… I can't…"

"And this," Max hands him another package, "is just a little something extra."

Inside is a vintage racing jacket from your dad's favorite driver from the 80s, signed and authenticated. Your dad actually tears up.

Your mom opens her gift next, despite protesting again that Max shouldn't have gotten them anything. She unwraps a beautiful pair of earrings.

"Oh, Max," she whispers, "This is beautiful."

Ruby, who has been surprisingly patient, tugs at Max's sleeve. "Can we do my princess breakfast now?"

"After we finish presents," you laugh. "And maybe we should have real breakfast first?"

"But I'm a princess now," she declares. "Princesses have special breakfast times."

Your mom shakes her head fondly. "How about pancakes fit for a princess?"

"With chocolate chips?" Ruby negotiates.

"With chocolate chips," your mom confirms. "Max, honey, how do you like your pancakes?"

"However they're made is perfect," he assures her, but your mom is already heading to the kitchen, muttering about making sure she has enough chocolate chips.

Your dad finally finds his voice again. "Max, this is too much…"

"It's not," Max says firmly. "You're… you're family now. Or at least, I hope…"

He glances at you meaningfully, making your heart skip a beat.

Later, after pancakes and multiple princess dress changes from Ruby, you manage to steal some time alone with Max in your favorite spot on the back porch. The morning sun has warmed the air slightly, but there's still a crisp winter chill that gives you an excuse to stay close to him.

"Your turn," Max says softly, pulling out a small wrapped box from his pocket.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a velvet jewelry box. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with two intertwined pendants - a heart and a tiny racing helmet.

"Max," you breathe, touching the pendants gently. "It's beautiful."

"Look at the back," he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of nervousness you rarely hear.

You turn the heart over to find an engraving: "You're my biggest victory. -MV"

"I love you," you whisper, pulling him down for a kiss. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if you're the most precious thing in his world.

When you finally part, you hand him your gift - a wrapped box that makes him raise his eyebrows at the weight.

Inside, he finds a handmade scrapbook filled with your personal moments - sneaky paddock kisses, quiet mornings at home, victory celebrations, and candid moments no one else has seen. The final page holds a photo from yesterday - Max on the floor with Ruby, both laughing during their third viewing of Frozen.

"This is…" he starts, voice thick with emotion.

"Wait," you say softly, reaching into your pocket. You pull out a key on a simple keychain. "I thought… maybe… if you wanted…"

"Move in with you?" he finishes, breaking into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your heart race. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other holds the key carefully.

"MAX!" Ruby's voice carries from inside. "I need help with my Cinderella shoes! And then we have to build a snowman! A FROZEN snowman!"

You both laugh against each other's lips.

"Duty calls, Elsa," you tease.

"Only if you'll be my Olaf," he grins, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Always," you promise, letting him lead you back inside where Ruby waits, already changed into her third princess dress of the morning.

Your dad catches your eye as you pass, "If you don't marry this boy," he whispers, "I will."

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, then heads outside to join the snowman-building committee.

Your mom appears at your other side, wrapping an arm around you. "He's right, you know. He's perfect for you."

You lean your head on her shoulder, watching Max let Ruby direct him on where to place the snowman's arms. "I know," you smile. "I know."

"Best Christmas ever?" she asks softly.

Looking at your family, and Max in the middle of it all, belonging there like he's always been part of it - you smile.

"Best Christmas ever," you agree.

[loveliluc]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ make up for lost time ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

— ft. alhaitham, diluc, neuvillette, wriothesley, zhongli

synopsis — even when they arrive home from work much later than usual, there you are, ready and willing to welcome them into your arms; 3.7k words.

— minors do not interact! unprotected sex. oral. fingering. mirror play. kissing. sexual language. afab!reader with no use of specific pronouns. sub!reader.

— alhaitham 𝜗𝜚

acting grand sage alhaitham this, acting grand sage alhaitham that. alhaitham has lost count of how many times he’s heard that title today, a perpetual reminder of his current station and a thorn in his side. he isn’t one to do more than required of him, what with his resolute desire to live an easy life. but one thing he is is dutiful. he will do his job, as scribe or acting grand sage alike, because doing his job well will save him the hassle further down the line. but this isn’t to say alhaitham isn’t annoyed with the situation he’s found himself in, temporary as it may be. he’s beyond aggravated as he leaves the akademiya, the sun already well beyond setting. another long day. his annoyance doesn’t last much longer through the threshold of his home, however. especially not when he sees you curled on the couch with a book. he almost sighs of relief when your pretty eyes turn upwards to meet his.

“you’re home,” you say in greeting. you snap your book shut gently as your body turns to face him, already preparing to welcome him in as you watch him move closer.

“you waited up for me again.” it’s a matter of fact statement, and it falls off alhaitham’s lips in a dull tone, but you know him, and know that he feels somewhat bad that you’ve stayed up so late just for him. but he’s grateful for you all the same. his toned body collapses next to you on the couch, quickly bringing you in close with one arm. you’re eager to receive the embrace and quick to settle yourself upon his lap.

you nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe; you’ve missed him. “i’m glad you’re home.” your arms are around his shoulders and you sigh when his hands find your waist and squeeze. the man below you simply grunts, and you know he’s beyond tired from the day. “i missed you today.”

alhaitham’s hands smooth over the curves of you and finally slip under your shirt to feel your skin. he feels you shudder. “oh yeah?” he’s never been a man in need of affirmative words, but he can’t help but love to hear you say that you missed him, him of all people.

“mhm.” your hands are toying with his hair now, fingers tangling in the silvery locks. you can’t help the involuntary grind of your hips.

the man beneath you grunts again at the action, your clothed cunt warm against his groin. his fingers travel higher up under your shirt just as he feels your lips against his neck. “how much?” he hears you sigh and feels the heat of your breath. his skin is littered with goosebumps, and they don’t go unnoticed by you. and he’s not concerned with hiding the effect you have on him.

“a lot,” you reply against his skin, your hips rolling again. you feel something hardening under you, and it grazes your heat in a way that makes you shudder. you pull your head away to look at his handsome yet tired face. “care for a demonstration?”

he smirks. “by all means.” and you’re so eager to show him, to prove to him the way you yearned for him all day. and he doesn’t speak it aloud just yet, but he doesn’t need words when his hard cock that springs out of his pants is sufficient evidence that he has also longed for you. you’re on your knees now, taking his length in your hand. he’s hot and solid in your grasp, and already so sensitive as he takes the first plunge into your welcoming mouth.

you hollow your cheeks and suck after taking what you can of him. your hand wraps around what’s left, and the combination has the scribe-turned-acting-grand-sage groaning above you. he’s so heavy on your tongue, and he tastes so good just like he always does. you’re already a mess between your thighs, panties dampened with your slick. you clench your thighs as you suck him off. the taste of him and the sounds of his raspy groans are getting to you, accelerated by your desperation.

alhaitham watches you bob up and down his shaft through hazy vision. his eyes are heavy with sleepiness, but also lust as he admires the way you swallow him. fuck, he’s missed you. it’s so evident in the way he reaches his end quickly with one final push of his cock in your mouth, his hot cum spilling down your throat. you take all he has to give and then some until he’s pulling you off him.

you swallow the last of his release while your eyes remain on his. his hand tightens in your hair. “was that good enough proof, hm?” the man above you smirks.

he’s pulling you into his lap again until your face is only mere inches away. he can feel the way your arousal has seeped through your shorts with the way you settle yourself over his bare cock. alhaitham kisses you once, twice, thrice. “i suppose,” he whispers against your skin. “but now i think it’s my turn to show you, yes?”

— diluc 𝜗𝜚

it’s no secret that your husband diluc is a busy man, to say the least. he wears many hats, and has many responsibilities. he’s dutiful in all things, dedicated and diligent. anyone would be hard pressed to find someone more committed to mondstadt than him. he does so much beyond what people are even aware of, and as much as you adore how honorable and noble he is, you can’t deny that you some times grow tired of how busy he is. he always does his best to pamper you when he can, to be the most attentive, caring spouse he can be to you. and he is very much that and more. you couldn’t ask for a better husband, it’s just…you wish you could have more time with him. and as for the last few days, he’s been even more busy than usual.

and diluc knows this, so painfully aware of his absence. which is why he wastes no time in heading towards the direction of your bedroom after getting home tonight. it’s so late that even the winery staff have already retired for the night; it’s quiet, but diluc doesn’t linger near the front door too long in worry some other obstacle may stand in his way of you. his heart is fluttering faster the closer he gets to your door, and it all but bursts in his chest when his eyes find your form. you’re springing off the bed before he can even register your movement, but his natural reflex to always reach out for you allows him to catch you when you barrel into his strong chest.

“you’re home.” you’re relieved, immensely so. your body melts in his warm embrace and you almost purr with content when you feel him relax around you.

diluc’s overwhelmed by your scent and he feels like his knees could give way any moment. as elated as he is that you’re awake to greet him, he’s overly aware of the hour and a worry rises within him. “and you’re still awake. should you not be asleep, my love?”

“can’t sleep without you,” you whine. “wanted to see you when you got home. i missed you so much.” and the pouty eyes that look up at him just about does him in for good.

he feels the way you cling to him, and he breathes a chuckle while he kisses your forehead. you’re too cute. “i cannot deny that i’m happy to be welcomed by you. i have missed you as well, my love.” and he’s pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, and he only intends for it to be a quick gesture but the way you tug and pull at him keeps him rooted in place.

the longer you kiss him the more heated things turn. you’re clambering at the lapels of his coat because you simply cannot get close enough; his hands are in a firm press around your hips and soon enough he’s pushing you backwards towards the large bed. there’s so much you both could say, so much left unsaid from all the time apart, but the best way either of you could express it all is through desperate touches and sighs. and it all escalates until he’s balls deep inside your warm, wet cunt, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders.

diluc isn’t precise in his rhythm, his cock driving wildly into your warmth and it’s all he can do to keep himself together. you’re already so overwhelmed under him, nails in his skin and his name on your lips. his mouth is all over your face, your lips, and then your neck. “missed you, missed this tight little pussy. i — hah — am so sorry, my love. promise i’ll make it all u-up to you.”

and you have no doubt he will. it doesn’t really matter how much time he spends away when he’s always so good at coming back to you at the end of the day. your face is buried in his shoulder as you wail out his name. “diluc! ‘m so close! don’t stop!”

diluc groans when you squeeze him so good. a hand snakes down between your body to press a warm thumb to your puffy clit. “will never stop, my love. never stop making you feel good. so good.” and he doesn’t stop that night; he’s tired, you’re tired, but neither of you could get enough after all the time apart.

— neuvillette 𝜗𝜚

neuvillette suspects there must be something in the water as of late, because the oddities he’s endured in such a short amount of time are abundant. his job as iudex has been particularly peculiar lately, or rather, the trials he has been overseeing have been quite…out of the ordinary. there’s been more legal documents atop his desk as of late, and as the ever diligent chief justice that he is, he allocates all of his time to make sure they’re properly sorted. a hectic work schedule wouldn’t be so unbearable though if the thought of you didn’t dwell on his mind every waking moment…

you’re his motivation to push through every document, to be done with his responsibilities and finally leave his office and seek out your presence that awaits him at home. he groans at the thought of you waiting for him, your pretty little self eager for him and only him. his trousers are becoming all too tight the more he muses upon you; it’s too much, you’re too much and you’re not even near him. he feels wildly inappropriate getting so worked up within his office, at his place of work. it’s so shameful, but he supposes it cannot be helped. all he can do now is finish as quickly as possible so he can alleviate his pent up sexual frustration.

it’s late when he arrives home, and neuvillette is certain you’re well asleep by now. but to his pleasant surprise, you’re very much awake when he steps into your shared bedroom, sitting at the large vanity. he’s stunned for a moment as he watches you; why does it feel like it’s been ages since he’s last seen you? you’re brushing through your hair but stop when you notice him, your gaze meeting his through the mirror.

you make his heart leap in his chest when you give him a smile in the reflection. “welcome home.” it’s so simple but he feels all the stress wash off of him at your attention. his feet are moving on their own accord, and you stay put to welcome him in once he’s close.

“my dear, my love.” neuvillette sighs out in both relief and adoration while he towers behind you. he’s bending forward and burying his face in your nape, and his breath makes goosebumps erupt all over your skin. his gloved hands are squeezing at your shoulders before wrapping around to settle against your waist. you giggle when he peppers kisses along your throat and shoulder.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you missed me,” you tease, leaning into his embrace. your eyes watch the reflection, and you enjoy the sight of his larger frame around you. “is that a fair statement, love?”

neuvillette groans; it’s a sound that slips out more guttural and needy than he intends. “very fair, indeed.” his hands smooth over the silk of your night gown and you exhale. his need from earlier is returning with a vengeance, dick throbbing pathetically in his pants. your smell, your body, it’s all affecting him. “you’ve taken over my mind all day. I simply could not escape you in the slightest. very distracting, i must say.”

you sigh when his large hands rise up your arms to toy with the thin straps of your night gown. he tugs them off your shoulders the moment he nibbles at your neck, and you can’t help the moan that flows forth. “show me, neuvillette. show me all the ways you thought about me while you were away.”

and oh, he does. he soon has your breasts free to his viewing and feeling pleasure, one large palm around one of the plush mounds of flesh, fingers pinching at the pebbled nipple. his other still gloved hand is plunged between your thighs, two fingers knuckle deep in your weepy cunt. he watches you in the mirror and it’s a nasty sight, and when your eyes find his he almost meets his end right then and there. he fucks you on his fingers while his thumb works over your swollen pearl, urging you to your climax with haste.

“neuvillette, m-my love —” you dissolve into pleasure before you can finish your words, your high overwhelming all of your senses. it’s so intense, amplified by the way your eyes remained locked on his through it all;

neuvillette guides you through your high and relishes in the way your cum soaks through his gloves. he’s kissing your temple as you calm down, but he is far from finished with you. “well done, my love. now,” he urges you on your wobbly feet. “lay on the bed for me.”

— wriothesley 𝜗𝜚

the duke doesn’t get to see the topside often. leaving the depths of the fortress is a rarity, but when he does ascend to the world above, it’s always to make his way home to you. but as luck — or lack thereof — would have it, spending time at home with you has become even more rare these days. being the warden is a never ending job, and his responsibilities persist even when he misses you so much it hurts. he’s wrangling new inmates when he’d much rather be tangled up with you, your knees folded over your form, and him balls deep inside —

wriothesley grunts when his dick throbs impatiently in his slacks. he’s fumbling with his keys in a frantic search for the house key because he quite simply cannot get inside fast enough; there’s an overwhelming urgency to be inside you that’s compelling him to practically knock down the front door once it’s unlocked. it’s been much too long since he’s been graced with the sweet wrap of your cunt. he’s almost sprinting through the house towards your shared bedroom; fuck, he hopes you’re still awake. and thank the archons, you’re awake and so beautiful and right in front of him with the prettiest little smile that’s beckoning him closer.

“ah, there you are!” you’re sitting up in bed and wriothesley almost falls to his knees at the sight of you in one of his shirts. “i was beginning to think you weren’t coming home at all.”

“sorry, darlin’,” he’s climbing over the bed, his icy gaze locked on his target: you. “tried my best to make it on time. you haven’t been waiting up for me, have you?” and he knows you have and he’s grateful. his pretty darling staying up just to welcome him home.

you hum and open your thighs so he can slot himself between them. your fingers are quick to tangle in his hair and you almost hear him purr. “not too long, i suppose. but you’ll need to be quicker next time, or else i won’t be so forgiving.”

the duke in your hold smirks widely, and you feel a pulse between your thighs at the sight. “understood.” wriothesley presses a quick peck to your nose and you giggle; the sound is music to his ears, but as he travels down your body, he’s in search for a much different tune. he hikes up your — his — shirt and sighs at the sight of your panties, which he’s swift to hook two fingers underneath. he tugs them to the side and you so obediently widen your legs for him, to show him. “mmh, guess this means i’ve got some making up to do, huh?”

you don’t get to respond. well, not with words at least. you’re gasping when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, your fingers that are still in his hair tugging at the sudden sensation. “wriothesley!”

he smirks against your sex before offering another suctioned kiss to your mound. he follows it up with long swipe of his tongue through your folds and he earns himself the most precious moan from you. “you’ve got the prettiest and sweetest little pussy, darlin’. been missing her so much.”

you burn red at his words. soon enough he’s making a sticky mess between your thighs, and all you can do is lay there and take it while he laps up your essence like a dog. “fuck, wrio! that…that feels so good!” your legs are beginning to shake as he winds you up to your release.

“is that right, darlin?” wriothesley gleams up at you, distracting you with his devilishly handsome face while his fingers sneak their way to your entrance. he might not be punctual in getting back home to you tonight, but he’s eager to get in your good graces once again.

— zhongli 𝜗𝜚

zhongli thinks that maybe he’s getting too old for this after yet another errand for the wangsheng funeral parlor. there’s been an uptick in responsibilities recently, and the ever energetic director has been full of many requests for the consultant. and he powers through them, but all zhongli can focus on is the way he misses you terribly. all he wants is to get home to you at a decent hour, to spend time with you for a moment before you both have to retire for the night to prepare for the day ahead. it’s a domestic lifestyle the ex geo archon finds himself, working a steady job with a wonderful spouse waiting for him at home. he doesn’t want it another way truly. the only time he grows tired is when his work life overwhelms his personal one, leaving him with less time with you.

zhongli ponders back on this morning; you underneath him, your hands in his hair, his name on your pretty lips as he fills you with two long fingers. the way your back arches into him, the way you shudder and weep. it’s so clear in his mind, him so close to taking you on his cock before he realizes just how late he’s running for work. he never got to have you, to relish in your tightness, and he swears he hasn’t been able to get over it all day. the desire to have you grows the closer he gets home; he wonders if you’re still awake, and he also wonders if he’ll have the self control to not wake you up if you aren’t. he gets his answer when he walks into your shared home, his eyes finding you quickly.

you’re seated at the dining room table. you look so beautiful, and there’s a pot of tea with two cups sitting in front of you. you smile as he draws nearer. “welcome home,” you greet him. “i figured i’d wait up for you, and brew you a pot of tea. i know you’ve been working so hard lately.”

the god of old’s heart swells in chest. he smiles warmly. “you’re always so good to me, my dearest,” he praises as he closes the distance with a few more strides. when he’s able, he reaches out to cup your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek affectionately. he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, and oh, how he’s missed you.

you hum in delight and look up at him with eyes so beautiful they might just bring this ex archon to his knees. you giggle when he dives back in for another kiss, and then another, and then one more. this one lasts, it’s slow and languid. but then you reach and grasp his collar to pull him closer, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room changes.

it makes zhongli pause and chuckle, and he casts an almost apologetic glance at the teapot. “mmh, the tea will get cold…” he follows up his words with another searing kiss and clearly neither of you are too concerned with the tea. he’s handsy with you now and desperate to feel you, to pick back up where you both had left off this morning. he’s so hard, cock straining in his trousers, and when he plants you on the table and slips his fingers passed your underwear, he feels how aroused you are as well. you’re slippery with slick, and he groans. “my dearest, i simply must have you, is that alright?”

you nod eagerly. “y-yes, zhongli. please.” he absolutely cannot deny you when you sound so sweet.

which is why you find yourself a while later with your legs pinned to the table, your back arched in pleasure, and his cock nestled deep within your sodden cunt. the poor teacups rattle with every thrust of his hips, and even the table itself can’t withstand the way he takes you, the wooden furniture skidding across the floor. you’re so tight and warm and perfect around him. it’s maddening, and his large hands are squeezing your waist to keep himself grounded to reality. his tip kisses your womb repeatedly and you wail out his name. this is everything he’s been aching for all day. “so good for me. taking me so well, my dearest,” he groans. “i will never tire of coming home to you and this wonderful little pussy of yours.”

nat’s notes — if you’ve read until this point, thank you! this is my first fic/first time writing for genshin impact. so i figured this is the best time to introduce myself. i’m loveliluc aka nat! i’m new in the genshin impact fandom space, and new to the game overall as i only just started playing back in early september. guess you could say i’ve very much fallen down the genshin rabbit hole lol. i hope you enjoyed this first piece, and i look forward to posting more! would love any support on this, and would love to create new moots going forward. i also ask for patience as i am still getting to know many of the genshin characters so sorry if i write anyone ooc. thank you! <3

[screampied]

thinking about kuna's gf trying to convince him to let her paint his long nails 😃

✩ ‧ ˚. — tags ⋮ fem! reader, pure fluff, heian! era sukuna, panting his nails, meanie kuna but he’s a softie, petnames: little one, woman, girl.

“no.”

a downcasted frown drags against your glossed lips once you sigh. sitting on no one other than sukuna’s lap, you huff out a single vexed breath. “huhh. what do you mean no, i didn’t even ask my question yet.”

“exactly,” he replies in a low voice, leaning back against the ancient, comfortable throne. for a fleeting moment, dark, sinister eyes stare into yours before he cocks his head. “you’re gonna ask me another one of your imprudent questions.”

“kuna, just let me ask you the question,” you protest, straddling the king of curses— it was never a dull moment with him, regardless of how grumpy he turns out to be. knowing sukuna, he’s almost always grumpy. his eyes gaze into you a bit longer and he then brings his thickset upper arms to cross near his chest, a cute pout on his lips as he waits for you to finish speaking. “pretty please?”

“…….fine,” he gives in, aware that you were probably gonna persist on asking him for who knows how many more times. with a sigh, he tilts his head at you. “what is it you wish to ask me, little one?”

smug grin and all, you pick up his broad hand that was so much larger than yours, brushing a thumb against his wrist before cooing, “can i paint your nails, sukuna?”

“no.”

“sukuna!”

he’s leaning back against his throne, the well raised chair sitting up all high and mighty—one of his arms repose near the lower part of his torso and wraps around your hip, pulling you closer.

“you already know what my answer was gonna be, no?” and this time, you give him a pout.

dewey red-shot eyes peer into you for a lengthy amount of time before he groans. that cute little pout of yours, you never fail to make everything so hard for him. “hmph. why do you want to paint my nails? they’re clearly already painted, woman.”

he’s trying..

you hold back a giggle before bringing one of his hands up to your face.

glimmering eyes focus on his nails, how naturally long they were— he had a point though, they were pretty much already painted. full on richly black, the tips of them were oh-so sharp he’d be able to cut about just anything. still, you wanted to paint his nails yourself. you couldn’t really come up with a good enough answer, so you just shrug.

“i just want to,” you hum in a soft voice, intertwining your fingers with his.

he scoffs, showing little to no reaction. with a puny eyebrow raise, you feel his right thigh start to gradually bounce. “please, ryooo,” you mutter, tugging your eyebrows into a pleading, needy furrow. “this way, we can match.”

“goodness, you’re so annoying,” he grumbles, watching your grin stretch as you dangle your own hand up in front of his face.

dark cruel eyes stare at your nails, observing how well manicured and painted they were. he sighs again, uttering out a raspy, “very well,” and he sits manspread, reaching for a nearby tiny table that resides against his infamous throne. “you may paint my nails. just this once.”

with a precious giggle, you grab about two bottles nail polish from your pocket, gently placing his hand down against the porcelain glass table. he’s keeping a sharp eye on you, rolling his eyes at how ecstatic you were on this. the way you treated his hands with such care—that cute little smile never once departing from your sheeny lips,

the moment you twist off the black tight cap that sticks onto the bottle like glue, the strongly loud aroma of the polish hits against his flared nostrils.

it’s heavily strong, the familiar scent of acetone wafts against his domain entirely.

“stay still, ‘kuna.” you whisper, gathering a good amount of polish. for a moment, you swear you could have heard a low growl escape from him.

oh, you were testing his patience.

you were testing sukuna ryōmen’s patience and he was letting you.

“good, good.” you give him a closed-eye smile.

“do not praise me,” he snarls, and he’s already embarrassed. his tone made an attempt to come across as more stern and assertive, but it was just so cute.

with daunting, glaring eyes, he watches silently at the way you softly brush the tip against his nail.

each individual nail took a few seconds each— oddly enough, it was wholly soothing for a while.

“hmph,” he bleats, feeling the softness of your hand skin against his hand every so often. you were so thorough, so precise.

delicately, you lay the brush flat against the bed of his nail. the bristles coat against the layer of his nail and you feel a brief coldness of air fan against your skin. it was rather amusing to watch you pay so close attention to him, to his hands. “hm,” he raises a brow for probably the nth time today. still scowling, his face softens a bit— you had him all relaxed. “you’re quite good at that, i must admit.”

“aw. thank you,” you cheese. with a grin, you give him a cute exuberant glance, pulling up his ring finger to paint the entire part of his nail with a freshly new coat. “how’s it feel?”

sukuna groans, not liking how sentimental this moment was. the entire mood was so … soft.

you made him feel soft— he always thought things like that just wasn’t possible. especially with someone as such as him.

who would have thought that painting the almighty sukuna ryomen’s nail’s would have him falling for you ten times harder . . ?

“it’s … good,” he utters in a gruff tone, and you’re just about done.

his eyes linger toward your hands for a long time, you’re still placed on his lap before you feel the curse’s lower arms grip against your waist tightly. you felt a feeling of abrupt security and it was quite nice. within his touch, you always felt secure. moments with him like this, you’d never be anywhere else. “hurry up though, my thigh’s cramping.”

“oh shut up.” you roll your eyes with a snicker, bringing the brush towards his pinky now. he sticks it out for you, staying still as possible before you pause— dipping it back into the glass teensy bottle, swirling it, delving it around the inner crevices of the glass before finishing up his final finger.

the audacity,

the audacity of telling him to shut up, you must have been out of your mind.

but truth be told, sukuna has somewhat of a sweet spot for you. it made him kiss his teeth in sheer exasperation. he wasn’t used to such tender forms of affection. part of him wonders just why you’re always so warm to him. treating him with such care, he’s the king of curses after all, and yet here he is— acting like his long lost self, the king of love..

“alllll done,” you harmonize, he looks down to see the final results. with low hooded eyes, sukuna stares at his sharp nails— once black, now a light pinkish color. his mouth dangles opens and his face scrunches up, eyebrows curling together and it’s hilarious. for once, sukuna ryomen was speechless. “i know right? you’re gonna get so many compliments, ‘kuna.”

“you did not just paint my nails pink, woman,” he huffs out a grunt, you lean up close to him with a coy, impish look. “the nerve is beyond me..”

you giggle, flashing off your nails in his face, the two of you now having the same exact color. “oh, don’t be a baby. see, now we’re matching,” and his face is still all scrunched up. god, you had him feeling a feeling he didn’t even know he could feel. his stomach’s tight, churning ridiculously, his heart’s racing, and even his palms start to sweat. “with your long nails, you pull it off so well, heh.”

sukuna kept asking himself the same question the more he avoids eye contact.

why must you be so so cute..?

not a single reply comes from his mouth, instead he just crosses his arms into a mere fold. “mhm,” is all he replies with, tilting his head before resuming his words with an obstinate grouse. “whatever. but i’ll have you know that pink is not my color.”

you titter. “oh? what is your color then, my lord?”

you were being a brat, he sends you daggers before regretting he even said that— you always had the higher up on him, every single time.

“tch. nevermind that,” sukuna scorns, and his pout was so adorable.

pink stretched lips compressing together, stubborn as usual.

he brings his hand towards his face before exhaling lowly. “what in the— the nerve of you to put little sparkles on it too,” and he watches your smile beam at his live reaction. “i … don’t know what i’m gonna do with you.”

“you can start by thanking me,” you tease, planting your lips against his cheek.

he tenses up, the softness of your lips giving him whiplash for a moment. every time you present him either something as simple as a kiss, he was never prepared for it. “fine. thank you,” and as his bulky lower arms snake around your waist, he meets your brightly dilated irises. “are ya finished? i need a nap.”

“so old,” you stroke his cheek, and that earns a glare from him. “it’s not even the afternoon yet,” and you gift him with another mwah, the contact that your sweet lips provides has him growing more and more flustered. “but yes, i’m done ‘kuna. thank you.”

“…..good,” he responds after a long seven second pause. sukuna’s scowling before he finally returns your eye contact. his face was slowly getting more flustered from each kiss you give him before he tsks. “ah ah,” he creates a swift hand motion, “off my lap now, you’ve had your fun.”

you frown. “aw,” a sweet disappointed tone hiding underneath your voice. he’s then taken aback once he feels your humanly hands sneak their way into his hair. pink slightly curled up strands of his was a bit messy and tangled. the curse was still publicly pouting, studying your every move before you get an idea. “hm. one more thing though?”

he exhales. “what.”

“can i do your hair? i found some bows and—”

“count your days, girl.”

“stop flirting with me, ‘kuna.”

“….foolish woman,” and after a long dreadful pause, sukuna pouts yet again. so cute, his arms remain crossed before he speaks through annoyingly gritted teeth, an almost smile pokes through his lips that conceals his fangs. “fine. you may do my hair…. or whatever.”