#✘ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀❛ answered ⠀ ⠀ » ⠀ ⠀did the words not come out right .

[tonycries]

SUGAR.

Synopsis. How he reacts when you joke about a séx ban? FeraI.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, séx bans, they go feraI, manhandIing, headIocks, rough s, p sIapping, DESPERATE JJK men, marathons, creampíes, pushing it back in, true form Sukuna, dp, slight oraI (fem rec.), pùssydrùnk men, begging, GOJO’S POWERS, matíng presses, they’re mean, Shiu cameo, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. SUGAR ON MY- TONGUE-

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Second opinion?

“What’s that, mama?” Toji’s sleazy grin only stretches at your babbled answer, more whines than words by now.

“Toji—mmpf!”

And without warning- without even a shred of hesitation, he spanks his rugged fingertips down onto your teary slope. Forcing the wetness of your core to let off the loudest slurp, “Hm? I can’t hear you over the sound of these pretty lips. Y’know, the ones who’d never suggest a tch- ban.”

There it was - that lil’ joke that’d gotten you into this mean headlock in the first place.

You’d wanted to find out how long it’d take for your husband to crack - and onward passed an hour, two, six until Toji’s chiselled abs were against your back, his beefy forearm crushing your throat. Rutting. 

You try to gurgle out a plea but he’s already pounding it back in with his roverin’ red tip. “What’s thaaat? Now I can’t hear ya over the sound of you, heh, finishing.”

What…? 

You shuffle as if you were about to whirl around, “What do you m- oh.”

Your fuzzy mind sparks with the realization that you were close- and Toji had noticed it right before you did. 

Had used his forearm to bend you back into the most perfect arch, had swabbed his veiny cock straight into your most tender orifice. He’s mapped out your every nook n’ cranny so well that Toji bruises your g-spot dead-on.

Making white-hot sparks burst behind your eyes, “I-I’m cum-ngh–ing.” You’re left shaking all prettily as the full force of pleasure washes over you.

“See now, if we were on a sex ban then who’d make you- fuuuuck- cum like this?”

Creaming ‘round his thrusting shaft- and he’s just so vicious with his cadence. You’re cumming and he’s fucking you through it perfectly. Pump after solid pump that applies pressure against your ass, leaving your limp body collapsing down onto the pillows-

“Ah ah.” With only a surprised grunt, Toji suddenly uses the hand on your throat to lift you clean off of the dampened mattress.

Your slick thighs against his, his curly black happy trail scratchin’ your back. Barely even a lewd doggy position right now, you were being fully supported by him. 

He wasn’t done just yet.

One of his muscular legs hike up to gluing against the side of your hips, letting the changed angle maze his swollen, wet cocktip even deeper. “See, doll?” The pure primal stretch just feels so sinful that your mouth can’t help but water- and Toji can’t help but raise his free hand to push the wads of saliva back in. “See? Heh, sloppy girl, that’s all that ngh- talk about a sex ban coming outta ya.”

He was just so mean. You throw your head back against his plush pecs n’ whine, “It was a- fuck! It was a joke, Toji—”

“Oh? A- fuck, joke was it?” Gruffly, he flexes his biceps until your airway’s being seized. Feeling each winding vein on his forearm press up against you, “Well m’not laughing, mama? Are you laughing?”

He wasn’t asking you.

He was rudely piercing you with a particularly hard buck, snickering at the lecherous sound of his ballsack slamming against your swollen pussylips. You were just so needy and so was he. “Heh, nope.” Toji pops the ‘p’, watching your eyes roll all the way back to your head. “Not laughing at all. You’re just bein’ fucked silly.”

And you’d be more offended if he wasn’t so fucking right.

Those six hours were enough for him to grow greedy. To grow almost…animalistic. 

He fucked you like he didn’t even want you to think of some stupid ban, brushing against all your sweetest spots in only a way that he could. 

The thoroughly veined underside of his shaft slips against your crevices and makes you moan, at such a pretty pitch that he can’t get enough of. “I-hck! I am- I am I am, it just feels so, ngh, good.” 

Can’t stop himself from manhandling you further back into his ripped front. Shaggy bangs falling over his darkened eyes as he stares down at your cross-eyed expressions. “‘Good’ huh?” Smack! Another one of his spanks plant down on your dripping pussy, the vibrations making your ears pop. “Wasn’t this the same hah- girl o’ mine who threatened a fucking sex ban? Where’s she, huh?”

“Don’t- would hck! never-” You’re hiccuping, waist starting to grind back into his in hypnotizing figure eights. And Toji himself gets a good grip on your ass cheeks to help you maneuver, “Don’t wan’ a sex ban, Toji-”

Teasing, “Hmmm, wonder if I can trust that?”

“P-please–!” Suddenly panicked as he playfully slows down his drilling, just the flared ridge of his tip now bashing in your nerves. 

He’s able to control himself to merely toy with your sultry cunt for a few strokes before reverting back to his out-of-control pace. Back to slashing the spongy end of your cervix with his swollen globe, it was just too adorable how he could get you to eat your words. Too adorable when you were like this. “Please what?”

“No more sex- sex ban-” Babbling away, your eardrums ring after the constant rhythm, your velvety walls clench. “Please! Promise I won’t ngh- joke about that again, just don’t stop- ngh.”

“You won’t?”

“I won’t–!”

Loooong, scouring jackhammers that web all of your insides in creamy pre. “Good.” And yet, he’s still letting his sloppy drags falter just a tad. 

He’s letting you mewl in impatience for a moment- swiftly reaching over for something on top of your shared bedside drawer. And only then do you realize that incessant sing-song noise in your ears wasn’t just from the sheer raw force of his thrusts. It was because of Toji’s ringtone.

Gasping, you swivel your head back and squint at his phone, and - most importantly of all - the flashing contact name upon the screen—Shiu.

Just in time to watch as Toji’s thumb twiddles on top of the sliding button to answer. Just about to click. “But maybe we should get a, heh, second opinion on that?” Just about to show off. 

“Oh.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Too much.

“Is it too much, my love?” Nanami’s hushed tone departs in a gasp, slow n’ sensual.

And that’s exactly how he’s arching his toned hips ever-so-slightly, feeding your weepy cunt with just a few more of his fat inches. He was just too big- damn near nine inches, the rotund crown of his shaft stretched you out torturously perfectly. 

Your husband leans his handsome face in to kiss away a few of your tears, grunts shattering at the back of his throat when he sinks in deeper with a sluuurp. “You hafta hah- speak t’me, darling.” He swabs his thick thumb down to press on your clit, like a button. “Tell me what you want. This pretty pussy can’t be speaking for the both of you now, can it?”

“I-I know—” You’re managing to whine out, half-drunk on the pure stretch. You glide your fingers through his tawny locks, “It’s just too- fuck! too good- t-too big, I should put you on a sex ban for my sanity, Kento.”

“Mhmmm, we can do that.” 

“Oh- I was jok-”

“But I don’t want to wear you out tonight, my love.” With a final, sweet peck he’s motioning himself to move off from on top of you. “I’ll get on that- right-”

And you catch the exact moment that Nanami’s voice warbles, the exact moment that he’s humpin’ his hips back. The rugged lines of his cock grazing down your slick, slick walls in an attempt to pull out of you- and you catch the exact moment that he breaks.

That he’s feeling your cushy innards clench with a squelch, and Nanami throws his head back with a groan. “F-fuck-” He’s unintentionally hissing, feeling all your cute insides gobble him back up greedily. “Hah, you have to- to let me pull if you’re planning on a sex ban-”

And it’s just too sexy to watch as the ever-sensible, ever-stoic Nanami Kento breaks apart on your honeyed cunt. So you can only flutter your eyes up with a pout, “So pull out then—”

“I will- I will.” He’s rasping, sounding like it’s more to convince himself than you. With two hands planted upon both sides of your head, Nanami reels his elongated length backwards and sweats. A slippery bead of perspiration that formulates at his temple and drips down, “I’ll have to…to get of now-”

You’re affirming. “Mhm—” Smirking, you loop your legs tighter ‘round his sculptured waist. 

“I have to move- now-” 

And it’s a sex ban. A sex ban means that there should be no sex, right? Right? So why was it so fucking hard for Nanami to completely ease out? 

Letting the thick, reddened tip of his shaft sag against your entrance, pryin’ apart your saturated folds. “And I will after one- one more thrust.” Moaning after a rough jackhammer that drives his tough v-line against your inner thighs. 

Nanami’s loooong cock probes right into the syrupy bottom of your pussy and leaves his leaking tip raw. He’s just so gone on the slamming sensation that he gasps- he pants. “M-maybe two more-” Back arching forwards, abs crushing against your front. Your poor cunt gets pummelled with not one, not two- but three more vicious jackhammers. “I need to stop, maybe I just can’t…count.”

“You can’t- fuck- count, Ken?” Just that drunk on your pussy, he doesn’t think he could recall his very own name by now if you asked.

But Nanami only nods fervently, running one hand of his down your front with adoration. If you thought the primal stretch before was too much, then you certainly weren’t ready for the feeling of him pushing down on your stomach while he nearly bottomed out.

Grunting, “Count- m-maybe if you count then I’ll be able to pull out-”

“M-me? Oh, fuck. One-” The tables are turning so rapidly- he doesn’t give you the time to think on it, doesn’t even give you time to breathe before spanking your swollen folds with the entirety of his bulky base. 

“Good. Good…” Nanami strangles out whilst he punctures your womb with yet another slash of his erection. He hisses, “And this one—?”

“Two—” With your eyelids scrunching shut, you’re being faced with yet another pressurized thrust. Your husband’s prolonged tip brushing your cervix- so hard that he’s recoiling back with a whack. Barely even a thrust - more of a mere half-thrust that he can’t control. That he can’t stop.

That he’s pushing n’ pushing into the deepest depths of your cunt, Nanami anchors his feet firmly on the mattress and repeats. “Three-” Again, a rapid, ruined rut that feels more animal than man. “Four- five- six.‘

“Fuck!” He barks into your agape mouth, only just now dawning with the realization that he was held hostage on your dewy wet cunt. “Eight- ten.”

“K-Kentooo—you’re counting wrong, too.”

And you’re pathetically letting your maw hang open- perfect for him to mindlessly leer his pursed lips forwards and spit. A wettened bead of liquid that you swallow- and that makes his eyes widen. “Oh, fuck.”

He was completely stuck. He doesn’t think he could pull out even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing once he snaps the meaty upper part of his body down, down, down to press his forehead to yours. Your legs on his shoulders, your drivelling cunt filled up to the brim. 

Your husband had you in a damn sloppy mating press after all the agonizing thrusts that you’d clamped him all through. And right now he doesn’t ask if it’s too much, he doesn’t ask how many more rutting hammers it would take- “How- hah, how about…”

“Yes- ngh, yes?” You’re blinking up blearily at him, the taste buds on your tongue crackling with scorching saliva. 

And he only leans in and licks up the sprinkling droplets by the corners of your mouth, “How about a sex ban after…I get you pregnant, darling?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - CHIT-CHAT

“A sex ban?” Geto seethes, he fumes out his scorching breath until you whimper. And there’s a sort of mad tinge in his voice- something tremoring, something dark. “A fuckin’ sex ban because my girl got jealous?”

Well, it was a joke. Sort of…

It wasn’t your fault that he’d simply paid too much attention to your treacly cunt, whispering sweet nothings between your legs. 

It wasn’t your fault that you got just a little restless, threatening a sex ban when he got a bit too pussydrunken. 

And it wasn’t your fault that he’s manhandling your trembly legs further up his shoulders, plunging his bulging tip deep into your cervix. Making you let off a few slurps that leave him nodding, “Mhm–and of her own fuh-fucking pussy too, can you imagine—” So mean. So strong- your squirmin’ body’s being pulled straight back into his by a hand on your throat. And you staunchly refuse to spit a word. “Well, if you don’t wanna talk t’me then…”

In a split-second, you’re being flipped over like a mere ragdoll. Geto hastily leaning his head over to spit—a glittery wad of spit that drips down the back of your folds. 

With a snicker at the way you shiver, he runs one of his knobbly thumbs down your slit and swirls it ‘round and ‘round. Making such a mess of the liquidy coating on top, you’re whimpering- “O-oh fuck, just like that-”

“Ah ah, not talking to me, remember?” Mockingly, Geto shakes his head with a tut. Pressing on your clit so that you’d purposefully start dripping all down his dexterous wrist, “At least she hasn’t banned me just yet- heh.”

You furrow your brows, “Y-you- Suguru, you’re so-”

“What?” Spank! The crowned circle of his shaft swats your entrance, gluing your hole shut with a few sprays of precum. And before you know it, Geto’s sinking innnn.

He’s pryin’ apart your soppy walls by sticking in his solid inches- “I can’t hear you-” When you start babbling, he bucks in just a bit deeper so that your pussy cries out once more. “Oh? Handsome?”

“Wh-what-”

“Isn’t that what you oh- said?” Tilting his head down with a grin, the inky tendrils of Geto’s hair tickles your spine as he makes you arch-arch-achhhh. Deeper so that his curvaceous girth can bully inside- “Handsome, huh?” Almost proving his point, the newer intrusions still make such lewd noises. “Why thank you, gorgeous. And what else—?”

Clawing at the sheets- he bumps the fragile area of your g-spot and you find your hand shooting out to clutch at the headboard.

Something that Geto has the audacity to pry apart with his own fingers and press a lingering kiss on the back of your hand. Thwack—the friction of skin-on-skin still makes your puffy folds slurp. “Kind, too, huh? Oh you, mmm, flatter me.”

“F-fuck off-”

“Huhhh, another compliment?” Pretending like the rhythmic creaking of the bed frame was too loud for him to hear, he burrows his cock so sloppily into your womb. “Louder, gorgeous.”

You whimper, “S-such- an-” Voice utter shrills after each thump upon thump of his rovering cock, proudly filling up every crevice. Deeper. “Such-”

Faster. “S-s-such—?”

Harder. “-an asshole!”

“Undeserving of a sex ban?” He doesn’t even know how he managed to say those words without any warbles, because it’s followed by a jackhammer of his hips so hard that Geto’s entire pelvis turns red. So hard that his bulging tip swells even bigger. So hard that he’s crushing your poor frame underneath his weight and pounding you straight into the bedsprings. 

Until your jaw permanently unfastens, until your chin slicks with so much cockdrunken saliva that it drenches the satin pillow underneath. “No- yes.” Geto grins at your lil’ conundrum. “Don’t wanna sex ban- please, ngh, want more, Suguru.”

“Heh, don’t think I need to hear from a ngh- girl who pretended she herself could handle a fucking sex ban.”

He’s just so mean. Pouring out creamy precum into each of your tiniest orifices until you’re all webbed up, such a carnal sensation that you can feel your thighs start to tremble like a leaf. “B-but I’m so close-”

“Let’s ask her, hm?”

Purposefully, Geto’s flared mushroom tip rubs up n’ down your bruised g-spot. And he takes in each tear, each broken noise, each clench as you edge closer to that lecherous high. Squelch after squelch. 

Your boyfriend was just too good at wrecking you from the inside, leaning over till your spine grates against his washboard abs. “She says you’re cumming.” With a grunt one of his hands pull back on your clammy scalp- just so that he can take in your pretty, pretty expression. “My girl says she’s cumming.”

“Yes-” Sparks shoot from between your legs, like electricity each time he runs his vein-covered cock raw on your walls. “Please please please- m’so close-”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

Only a few more vulgar thrusts of his, building up n’ up until your entire body was shaking. His meaty thighs were now permanently glued to the backs of yours, scouring cockhead bashing your velvety innards. 

You feel Geto’s happy trail lick up your back, his pointed tip pinpointing your exact g-spot- stirrin’ around in a pattern that almost feels like a heart. And you think you might just-

“Upsy daisy–”

Squelch-squelchhhh—both that noise and your yelp of displeasure are the only things ringing in your ears by now. Because Geto doesn’t let you cum - he lets you wallow right by the edge of your peak, pulling his thick cock out in mere seconds.

“I’ll tell you what’s stopping you.” The underside of his shaft spanks your pussy with a wet splat! “Heh, what? You thought I was going to be ngh- nice to you after that? Awww, my poor baby—-” Crooning, he then reaches a hand underneath to press up on your stomach. Up and up creating pressure as Geto’s fat, strawberry-shaded tip slips back in. “That’s what you get, greedy girl.”

“B-but I was so…” Weakly, you can barely even speak through your tears- ones that Geto readily cranes over to lick up the salty sweetness. 

“B-b-but—” Teasing in such dramatically high octaves, he kisses you - only to spit a gluey wad of spit between those swollen lips. “Now tell me why you deserve to cum before I put a sex ban on you~”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Sooo anxious…

It was after hours upon hours of Choso fucking you like he was crazed, after you’d jokingly imposed some ‘sex ban’ purely out of worry for his wellbeing. His neediness.

When he found himself cuddled up to you- your back to his ripped front, his overworked cock against your ass cheeks. All soft n’ sensual until- “Choso-” You whisper, feeling the bedsheets rustle with movement.

And oh, was it movement.

You could feel his plump cock swell in size at merely the sound of your voice saying his name. His harsh abs pressing ever-closer as he drags the tip-top of his shaft down your leaking slit. “Choso, ngh- are you okay, baby?”

“My baby…” Fuck, he sounded breathless already. Dribbling wet pre down the inner parts of your legs, you already had his creamy cum slicked to your thighs in a sheen and this was only making everything worse. 

Choso ruts like an animal- until his bulging tip was sticking between your sensitive folds and he finds himself holding back utter tears. “Oh, baby, you don’t understand. You’re driving me mad.”

“Don’t tell me you want to go al-ngh- already?” You’re panting out in pure shock, “Cho, you were cumming dry only minutes ago-”

“And I promise it won’t happen again.” He sounded so serious- so tautly wound up as if the constant rubbin’ in circles around your wet entrance was shattering whatever was left of his sanity. Whatever was left of his self-control. “I know- I know I know I have a hck! sex ban but…”

And Choso can’t even finish his damn sentence given the way your first tight ring of muscle tries to clench - around nothing.

You’re watching in pure awe at the way this makes your poor boyfriend bite back a sob- wanting to soothe your heated cunt as soon as possible. You swivel your head back further simply to take in the pretty right of him - lips puffy n’ pouted, dark lashes heavy with tears, cock aching. 

Rock-hard.

So you’re running your hands through his sweaty, silky hair with a slight coo—“Aww, fine.” Holding back a giggle once his breath catches - you’d broken him. “The sex ban’s over, Ch- oh.”

Without even finishing your sentence- suddenly you’re being spearheaded by all eight thick inches of Choso’s ravenous cock. He doesn’t even hesitate, stretchin’ out your every tender orifice until you were yelping-

“Don’t move.” Before you can even blink, your squirming hips are being put in place. One of his strong legs hooks over your body, pinning your ass against his pelvis as his length fills you up desperately. Blissfully. It’s as if Choso Kamo breaks just as soon as he found himself between those pretty legs of yours. Tears flowing, smooth baritone cracking. “Don’t move, I’m gonna hngh! Fuck, just being inside you makes me wanna c-cum.”

“But I need to- oh, you’re so big, Cho—” Keening, your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head at the raw, primal stretch. He was just so big that no matter how many times you took him, it always made your thighs tremble n’ your folds ache.

“Then- then…” Without warning, instead he’s slowly pryin’ apart your bloated pussylips with one thumb. Pushing inside the wads of cum that’d started to spray out of you, “How about this- because I can’t- oh. After so long, I can’t-”

‘After so long’ - it had only been minutes into a sex ban. Close to tears at this point, Choso was just rutting and rutting and rutting. Barely even thrusts- mere, mindless bucks that shoved half his length inside you.

You were so tight that it was like heaven to have him shaping your walls, snagging on each vein zig-zagging down his shaft. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, m’still so sensitive.”

“M-me too-” He chokes out, but he sure wasn’t acting like it.

Because Choso didn’t even need to scour the edge of your cervix to start drilling into you like he was maddened. Hard. Fast. His face buries into the crook of your neck, and his palm slides down your tummy to feel for himself. 

Your boyfriend gasps once he feels the plummeting bump of his rotund cockhead, and presses down. “Don’t think I ever wan’ a sex ban a-again, baby.” He moans, “Never ever- not when I pump you all full like this. Doesn’t matter if I b-break myself-”

“You’re so greedy, baby—” And you can only whine and whine, letting his vicious hips tenderize your back. He was still stuffin’ himself inside just to reach your very end- 

And it takes one, two, three entire thrusts for his thick, ruby-red globe to finally scrape the target of your cervix. For him to snap his bulged eyes open at the realization that he’d finally bottomed out- and for Choso to cum.

Just from the feeling of having his long, pretty cock being sheathed by your cunt.

You’re dripping wet syrup all ‘round him- and he’s just piling onto it. White, stringy wads of cum that pour out of him like a fountain, “F-fuck! Choso, again?”

And if that wasn’t enough, he had one palm still stuck to your front. Pushing down with each knot of seed being fucked right into you, webbing up your poor insides. Again and again and-

“Again-” Choso sputters, and for a second you think he’s answering your previous question. 

That is, until his handsome face removes from its hiding place at your throat, and looks down at the seeping puddle of sap gluing to your thighs below. And something in his expression darkens- “What a waste. Now we hafta go a-again, baby…”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - “WHAT?!”

You shouldn’t have tested the king of curses.

You shouldn’t have - because the moment some utter nonsense about a ‘sex ban’ leaves your mouth, Ryomen Sukuna gawks. He grins as if you’d just told the funniest joke humanly possible. 

And he was grinning for the first hour, the first night, all the way up until the second night. When Sukuna’s mouth wasn’t smiling any longer, but the cursed one slashed across his abs was. All pearly canine teeth on display, the slimy expanse of his second tongue slashing outwards.

He was in control. Sukuna’s letting his lavish taste buds slither up your thighs, pushing your panties just to the side so that he can pry apart your puffy folds. Trying to push its way in-

He was…

“F-fuck, Kuna—” You’re shaking out, legs fallin’ further apart so that he can knock his tongue against your neglected clit. 

…definitely not in control. 

“What?” The King gruffs out from beside you, arms crossed stubbornly as if his second gluttonous maw wasn’t just making a complete n’ utter mess of you right now. “Whaddaya want now, spoiled human?”

The lecherous tip of his tongue was just glued to your orifice by now, poking in and out teasingly. Just the way that drove you frenzied with need, bucking up in constant jerks for more, more, more—“I-I wan’ your cock, hngh.”

“You said you wanted a sex ban, brat. You can have one. I can’t control what this thing does.” And as if to prove his point, his tongue gives a punishing spank down onto your perky clit. The devious smirk that breaks across both his mouths is enough to send shivers down your spine. A coral pink brow raises at you smugly, “Unless ya wanna take me yerself.”

He was just teasing. He was just toying with your greedy sanity, drivin’ you further and further up the wall with the mean flicks of his tongue. 

And it’s with a controlled huff that you find yourself getting up onto unsteady limbs. Watching as Sukuna’s sleazy expression distorts into something of shock- you somehow manage to clamor yourself up onto his upper body.

Thighs surrounding his bulky waist, your teary slit kissing the top of his cock. 

Your dominant hand presses between his two cushy pecs pushing the king down, grumbling. “F-fine then.”

He beams up at you - something sinful. “F-f-fuck me, then.”

And you’re just too cute when you act like you can take his dual, rock-hard cocks without any help. Your hips quiver as you’re shufflin’ yourself down inch by agonizing inch, letting the massive circumferences of his lengths stretch you wide open. 

A few of his prominent veins scrape along your softest insides and make you shiver, “See?” Jutting your lower lip out into a pout that makes his crowned cocktips flinch inside of you. “I can take it-” Jerk after jerk that has him bullyin’ apart your walls to squeeze him deeper. “I can- oh, ngh.”

“Haaaa? Yeah, you’re takin’ me, huh, mama?” Rudely, he’s spanking the side of your ass cheeks and that makes you slip your stumbling way further down. And Sukuna has to fight to keep out the crackling moans that try to seep their way into his tone- fuck, why did you have to feel so damn good? “Atta girl. What happened to- hah, to that sex ban, huh? Can’t resist The King- can you, mama?”

“Sh-shut up-” You can’t say anything more- not with the way that his sheer size was filling your mind completely.

Sex ban? What sex ban? The only thing that was ringing throughout your mind was the primal ache of his spearheading cockheads. Thick, globular tip swabbing aside your tightest folds, Sukuna makes you sob with a tunnelling buck. “Heh, s’alright, brat. I get it, this pussy’s just- ngh, weak f’me.” 

“S-s’just your cocks-”

“Just my cocks, hm?” One of his clawed digits drag up the front of your stomach, its honed point dangerously tracing the pathway of his massive cylindrical outlines. “My cocks that are all the way- hngh-” Pressing down on the bumpy ridge of where he was hitting your cervix, “-here. Think you could ever suffer through a sex ban w’me?”

“You were the one wh-who broke it first—” And just on time, his greedy neglected taste buds were rovering ‘round the outside of your pussy. Drinking up each drip-drip-drip of syrupy slick like his very own faucet, “Your tongue is- ngh, the one who- fuck.”

Rolling his cocky crimson eyes, he breaks off your cockdrunken babbling with a thorough few thrusts. Letting the bashin’ away of his crowned tips dig into your womb, “As if, who can you stay without me.” “Isn’t that right? Huhhh? Couldn’t stay away from your king- from my- oh, f-fuck.”

And all it takes is for a singular, soppy squeeze - for your cute walls to come down crushing his greedy lengths. Gluing your soft innards to his veiny shafts- and Ryomen Sukuna stutters.

His voice breaks. 

All it takes is a singular, soppy squeeze for him to be complete putty between your legs, merely bucking up into you like a damn animal in heat. Pump after pump that’s creaming his bludgeoning cockheads- fuck, how did he last this long - two entire days - without your heavenly pussy again?

And you could swear that his tonality was verging into near-whimpers by this point, “I-I mean…anything you want, my queen.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Pretty, please…

You think it had only been mere minutes- likely not even an hour until you had your poor, tortured boyfriend pushing you against the nearest flat surface of your kitchen counter.

His thighs caging you in, his upright cock pressing against your ass and dry humping.

Ino felt like he had gone fucking feral. Pearly whites digging into the side of your neck, guttural grunts leaving him each time the veiny expanse of his cock caught on your sultry folds. You were being used for his lecherous pleasure and you’ve never been wetter- grinding yourself back onto his swollen length. “T-Taku- what do you think you’re doing, hm–?”

“I’m sorry-” It’s the first thing out of his mouth. And he can feel his taste buds sizzle with the oncoming wave of saliva, “I can’t even remember the fucking- fuck! argument just-” His tone dips into something…pleading. “-a sex ban? Really?”

You weren’t entirely serious about it - just a spur of the moment statement to what had been a silly lil’ argument. 

But fuck, was it ruining Ino.

From the inside out, and he was rutting up into you like he was trying to thrust it out. And you can’t help but giggle at the pure desperation in his furrowed brows, “Awww, do you forfeit, baby?”

“I forfeit-” Gasping, panting. The more needy he’s going, the further his globular cockhead is probin’- pushing apart your swollen folds and slide-slide-sliiiiding between them. “Please- please, take of this- fucking sex ban. Just give it t’me- ngh, I want it- I need to have it.”

“Mmm—” Running your fingers underneath his clammy ski mask, you’re swiftly pushing it off and it falls to the floor soundlessly. “Only if you say ‘sorry.’”

Whimpering, “M’sorry-”

“Louder, Taku.”

“M’sorry.” Another snagged thrust- and you’re just weak in the knees. You almost can’t believe you had the audacity to tease his fat, throbbing cock when it just felt so good- Another half-thrust into thin air, another heave. “Please, sweetness. I’m begging- begging.”

You had him nearly on his knees. 

“Mmm, fine then—”

And then, your mouth’s just transforming from a grin to a sultry ‘oh!’ of shock. Because at that very moment, he’s stuffing you so full of his vulgar, thickened cock that you’re overspilling sweet sap. 

Dripping in a glistening ring down the sides of his bulky base, Ino doesn’t wait until you’re adjusting to try and bully himself even deeper. One hand pushing down on the back of your scalp to pin you down, the other holding onto your waist and hitting his toned hips upwards.

“Fuck-” He’s gasping, barely even halfway in but still half-thrusting. The nub of your clit finds its place between his fingers and he squeezes. “Fuck, look at you- I hafta get you, mmm, all shaped to my cock again.”

You’re keening, finding your heels lifted cleanly off of the kitchen tile. He’s mazing his girth into you so hard that the sheer force has him supporting your lower half, “I think you’re doing a ngh- damn good job of it-”

“Not good enough-” And then he’s slapping one of his slender hands down on your slope, two doughy fingerpads of his index n’ middle slipping into your leaky orifice. Streeeetching you out even further— “-yet.”

It’s such stimulating dual pleasure- as if Ino was making up for the meager minutes that he was left without your heavenly pussy. He was fucking you like he was still furious with you, the blushin’ red inches of his cockhead sticking to your cervix with pre. 

“Ya left such a- ngh, big job f’me.” Your boyfriend whispers like a mantra into your ear, scorching the shell with his heated pants. “Gotta claim you a-all over- gotta make you remember- gotta bruise myself into you.”

Crying out, you clamor to find a grip on top of the smooth tiles- and Ino doesn’t let you. Instead, guiding your hands behind your back, pinning you down further. “But I only put the ban on for- ngh- not even for an hour-”

“Do you think I care?” Hissing, breathless. The tip-top of his split-ended shaft scrapes against the bottom of your pussy and he shakes. “I can’t last a fuckin’- oh, hour. Can’t last a minute- a second-”

Pound after pound.

He was just so big that Ino’s length easily probes into your deepest crevices, stretching them open in ways that no other had ever done before. And the slurps emanating from between your shiny legs are deafening, his very favorite song. 

Drunkenly, you find your mouth moving- “What about a nanosec-”

Spank! Yet another hit of his vulgar hips, Ino doesn’t even let you finish your sentence - not even your breath before interrupting you with a graze down your spongy womb. Harder. Sloppier. He’s gracing you with drags that dig into your every spot, stirring with Ino’s throbbing veins all ‘round your walls. “Not even that.”

And oh- maybe he’s addicted to your cunt.

Maybe it’s a problem that he can’t imagine a day without having those pretty, puffy lips of yours kissing the curly hairs at the bottom of his cock.

But, right now, he can’t bring himself to fucking care. Not about anything other than the way he had you all shaking n’ needy underneath him. Cunt being smeared apart with one of his thumbs, Ino reels his lips slightly forwards and spits.

A great, glittering glob that drenches you even further. 

And you’re moaning so loud you nearly don’t hear the next few words spilling from his mouth- “Pretty, neither of us are- fuck- gonna walk out of this kitchen alive by the time m’done with you.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Wife Wife Wife

“A sex ban?” The breathless whisper escapes Gojo’s mouth like it didn’t even mean to. Hoarse. Disbelieving. He hisses right in your face, “A sex ban?”

You’d just joked a lil’ tangent on universal wedding customs to your fiancé, how some said it was unlucky for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. And so, surely, that meant a sex ban the day before the wedding, right?

Little did you know that that was enough to make the strongest sorcerer fall to his knees, as if he’d just had the very soul sucked out of him- enough to make him raise his slender fingers and snap!

“Toru what did you-” You’re gasping, finding yourself suddenly sprawled across your shared bed. Wait a minute- did he just…

“Teleportation.” He jerks his head towards the sound of your voice. Gojo was on top of you now, he was devouring you now- tearing apart every shred of your clothing like it was nothing. Your thighs press together with arousal and he flinches like his extreme senses could fucking smell the sweetness wafting from your ready cunt. 

With a sharp groan he kisses into your mouth- “A s-sex ban-” Sounding like it pained him to merely say those words. “-means we have to fuck it out beforehand, right? Right?”

“Satoru, I don’t know if that’s how it- ngh, works-”

“But that’s not not how it works, right?” Quite sound logic to his lust-addled mind. And you’re helping him just barely slip aside the flimsy fabric of your panties- to which Gojo catches sight of your naked pussy and tears up in pure gluttony. “Oh- oh, yer killing me, sweetheart. How m’I supposed to go even a day with such a pretty wife at my side?”

“W-wife–?” You’re catching his little slip up, even before you two are officially married. And maybe you would have teased him with it, maybe you would have questioned it- 

But anything and everything on the tip of your tongue is being fucked out by Gojo’s furious, weeping tip.

He’s pressing in just an inch- an inch, and he’s letting off a wave of cursed energy so strong that every electric outlet in your bedroom sparks. So big that the orifice of your cunt is streeeetched out on the big, bulging mushroom of his cockhead. 

Barely even inside before he’s rutting and rutting- “My wife-” Gojo rasps, mounting himself further. And in the blink of an eye he has your legs on his shoulder, his muscular back bending down, down, down till he can spit into your opened maw. “My wife- my wife- my wife-”

Puncturing into your most throbbing nooks n’ crannies, you can only mewl through your tears. “F-fuck- so much for a sex ban-”

“A sex ban—” And Gojo jolts like he’d just been struck by the very words, so drunk on your treacly cunt that he’s whirling his dazed gaze to you in panic. “N-not another sex ban-” Before you can fully articulate an answer, he’s burrowing his veiny shaft down your soppy walls even deeper. Like he never wanted to pull out. “You’re not going to fuck- punish me with another one-”

“No no, Satoru, I just-” 

And then you’re cutting yourself off with the whiniest shrill of your life - because Gojo’s biting down onto the side of your clammy throat in case you thought to escape. Clawing his hand down on your scalp, and using the purchase to push you down his bullying length. 

Inch by inch, you’re being pierced.

With the veiny lines down his sides stretching you out perfectly open, Gojo had you drooling out of your stupefied mouth without even trying-

“See? See?” And you’re blinking your bleary peripheries up to find that the strongest was smirking, smug. “Can you honestly tell me with that- fuck, mouth that m’on a sex ban? Huh?”

Hips against hips. You were being pounded into the king-sized bedsprings like he was trying to fuck the very answer out of you. “It was a- hah! Oh fuck-” And you’re faintly registering those lightning bolts of blue ‘round Gojo’s half-lidded eyes, sparking as soon as he drags an open palm down your front.

Mapping out your sultry insides, he’s using his Six Eyes to swerve the bulging tip of his cock straight into your g-spot. Hammering his strawberry divot into your nerves like a smooch—“Fuck! It was a joke, Toru- just a joke-”

Grinning, “Mmm, I know.” Probing his ragged, red length as if the mere mention of that joke pained him. “And the fuck- fucking idea still killed me.”

His tone was breathy, rough - and so was his cadence. 

Because usually, Gojo would be the type to smoothly let his cock ruin you from the inside out, the type to talk you through each suave ministration. Usually.

But right now- he was feral. Big globs of drool decorating the corners of his mouth, right now your pussy was the one ruining him. And he was feverishly trying to wreck you right back- in long, vein-covered strokes that vulgarly fill up every ounce of space inside you. 

Right now, he was gone.

“I know and it- fuck, maybe I’m addicted.” As if he was genuinely wondering in that higher-pitched, shaking voice of his. “I can’t have you h-holding back, sweetheart. I can’t- I can’t-” The more the strongest babbles, the sloppier his pace becomes. 

And the wetter you’re growing, “Oh my god- Toru—” It’s like a waterfall between each of your quivering legs, slick sloshing out after each targeted strike against your g-spot. Thrashes upon thrashes. “M’not gonna ngh- l-last at this rate-”

“Good.” Purposefully, he angles the position of his hips just enough so that Gojo’s pale happy trail will scratch your poor clit raw. Making you see white-hot stars- “Maybe that’ll make you think twice about some s-stupid fuckin’ sex ban.”

As he grumbles away under his breath, you only curl your legs further ‘round his merciless hips. Again and again and again. “Satoru—” You mewl, “I’m gonna- gonna–”

“Mhm—” Something in his blue irises were glowing, and you hear Gojo count down underneath his ragged breath- “Three.”

“Wh-what do you mean-”

“Two-” Another few rhythmic hits, and countless zaps of bliss course through your veins. Rendering your head all stupidly fuzzy, throwing back into your heap of pillows behind. 

“Fuck, don’t tell me, ngh, you’re-”

The curled end of Gojo’s grin twists the more n’ more he’s looking through your body, envisioning right where his bumpy cockhead was nudgin’ your spongy cervix with a final, thorough bash—“One.”

And then it happens- your high crashes into you like a semi-truck. One you didn’t even realize was creeping up onto you so closely- but Gojo certainly did. And he’s fucking you through each stab of euphoria like no other, mentally seeking whenever your high was at its peak to thrust his ravaged length back in n’ out. 

His ravaged, reddened, cumming length - this time, you’re realizing before he does. The fact that Gojo Satoru was reaching his high just from having you cream ‘round his shaft.

The lights go berserk until they shatter, and your husband’s skin feels electric.

Probin’ your tiniest orifices with dewdrops of his pearly white sap, he trickles out so much of his mess that it’s overspilling. Draining down your thighs and making such a mess each time he paps! his hips forwards to fuck it back in- “I’m- fuck, I’m…cumming.” He’s breathing out, blue eyes bulging. “Don’t tell me- ngh, don’t tell me the sex ban’s on from now onwards-”

Your cum-dripping pussy had completely fried his brain - and yours, too. “I don’t think that’s- fuck, Toru- just like that.” It was so heavy having him inside you, splashin’ around with each wild buck.

A few volts of cursed energy spark just as soon as he runs his hand down the front of your stomach. 

Pondering, “I-if I turn this pretty cunt o’ mine into a limitless void with my jujutsu then is it- ngh, technically breaking the sex ban, my wife?”

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[millermouth]

summary: joel wants to 69

|| SMUT MDNI 18+ this ain't nothin but nasty, nasty porn, folks. idk what comes over me sometimes. actually i know exactly what did it. and @littlcdarlin sure knows too! 69ing, m!receiving oral, f!receiving oral, ass play (just a litttleeee), Joel is such an ass man, praise kink, deep throating, dirty talk, 1 use of the word daddy im sorrrryyy ||

a/n: LISTEN OKAY. I was minding my own business, right? and all the sudden I remembered this little idea for a drabble...of 69ing with Joel...because NO ONE WRITES 69ING!!! I know I told you I was workin' on other shit and I am!!! But this just kinda happened!!! Okay anyway enjoy.

“I just wanna try it. If we don’t like it, then we know.”

“O…okay.” you answered, “I’m not really sure how we’d—how I’m supposed to—”

Your voice wavered, and Joel gave a small smile, his hands already moving, sliding slow and warm over your bare skin.

“Trust me?”

You nodded, sheepish after a long pause. Of course you did.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmured, the sound of it rumbling up from his chest. He laid back against the pillows, groaning softly as he shifted and turned you around with ease. Your thighs haphazardly followed his movements as he positioned you above him, your knees planted to either side of his head. 

“Scooch—there we go, righttt… here,” he murmured, adjusting you until your knees bracketed his shoulders. You felt so… exposed like this, legs spread over him, your bits all in his face. But still, your hands found his stomach for balance, and then his palms slid up your thighs, gripping your ass with both hands so firmly it made you squeal.

The first thing you felt was his breath: humid and greedy against your awaiting, already slick folds, his nose brushing the skin around your entrance, teasing and gentle. And then his mouth opened, wide and wet, and he groaned as he buried his tongue against you for a quick swipe.

“Joel!” you gasped, hips jerking.

He gave a quick smack to your ass, making you jump. “Best fuckin’ view in the house,” he muttered, kneading the flesh of you in both hands, then dragging your body down toward his face again.

It was obscene right from the start. His tongue was hot and broad, dragging up through the viscous mess between your legs, sucking at your clit as your thighs already started to shake. Your whole body felt coiled up, vibrating with sensation. It was an odd angle—one you’d never tried before with anyone, but the way Joel ate at you…fuck, it made it feel better than you would’ve ever thought. He licked you open like he wanted to crawl inside, spit mixing with arousal until it ran in glossy rivulets into his beard.

You whimpered and reached down between his legs, cupping the thick bulge in his briefs. The fabric was damp with precum, clinging to the swollen outline of him. Your fingers traced the length of his cock slowly, teasing, your thumb circling the head through the cotton until he groaned against your cunt.

You palmed his balls through the fabric, petting them with soft strokes as his hips shifted, desperate for more. You weren’t entirely sure how you were supposed to think straight with his mouth moving against you, the way he knew how to make your skin rise in goosebumps with an easy twist of his tongue.

“Fuck, baby… please,” he murmured into your folds, the words muffled by pussy and spit, and it made your stomach drop straight through the mattress.

You peeled back the waistband of his briefs, and his cock sprang free: hot, thick, leaking. You wrapped your hand around him and squeezed gently, reveling in the weight and the heat of him, the way he twitched in your grasp.

He was flushed pink at the tip, glistening, veins bulging beneath your palm. You licked at him slowly, just little kitten licks that made his abdomen tense beneath your chest—then took him into your mouth, lips wrapping around the head with a wet pop.

Joel moaned like a man breaking in half, his hands squeezing your ass again, his mouth momentarily pulling away from you.

Your throat opened with ease in this position, the angle allowing the upward curve of his cock to go down in an easy slide. It reached so much deeper than ever before. He kept hitting the back of your throat again and again, each stroke slicker than the last. Your eyes watered, spit spilled from your lips, down your chin, and drippled down his shaft and onto his stomach.

You pushed further, greedy with this newfound angle, and it still wasn’t enough. You still were inches away from your nose pressing anywhere close to his balls. You played with them anyway, rolling the delicate flesh in your palm, your other hand squeezing his cock where you couldn’t fit in your mouth, hand matching the rhythm of your lips. You bobbed your head, breathing through your nose, moaning around him as he suckled your clit harder.

Suddenly, his big, meaty hand gripped the back of your scalp through your hair and pulled you off with a wet gasp. You spine arched back, lungs filling, spit slick around your chin as you braced your hands on his stomach again.

“Keep that up, I’m gonna come down your pretty throat too quick,” he warned, voice rough and hardly held together. “Take it easy, for Christ’s sake.”

“But I just love him, Joel,” you crooned, stroking his cock, thumb smearing the precome that dripped across the slit.

He cursed, letting you go as he dove back into your cunt, this time with more hunger. His mouth was open and messy, his beard wet with your arousal as he sucked on your clit before flattening his tongue, letting your hips grind against him.

And then, you felt his hand sliding back to your cheeks, past your pussy, fingers thick and exploring, finding the tight pucker of your muscle above.

“Joel!” you squeaked, back arching away.

“What?” he chuckled, pulling his lips off of your swollen clit, “She’s winkin’ at me, baby. Can’t neglect her while your pussy’s gettin’ all the love.”

“You most certainly can,” you bit out, but your voice wobbled as he circled the rim gently, teasing.

“Relax,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the slick skin just between the two entrances, his nose just brushing the tight hole. One of his hands gripped your ass, kneading hard, pulling you apart. The lewd, wet sound of your pussy filled the air with every movement, the lips connecting and spreading, soaked completely. Your face flushed with heat.

“God, I fuckin’ love you,” he muttered. “Love this messy little cunt, love this tight little ass. Wanna love on every part of you.”

“You’re out of your mind,” you panted, kissing the sides of his cock. Your fingers never stopped stroking.

“Just a finger,” he promised, tone all innocence. “Won’t even go too far in. Just wanna feel her.”

“One finger, Miller,” you growled.

“One,” he agreed, voice low. “Safe word?”

“Pickleback.”

“That’s my girl,” he said proudly. “Now come here. You’re drippin’ all over me. I need another taste.”

And then his mouth was back on you, ravenous, sloppy. Tongue dragging, lips sucking, spit and slick pooling on his chin. And as he devoured you, his finger gently pressed, not in just yet, but enough pressure to make your breath catch.

The moment you moaned around his cock again, he pushed.

Your whole body seized. He was slow, careful and patient, but unrelenting. He breached you with that single thick finger, and your ass clenched tight around him.

“Oh fuck, baby, yeah,” he whispered, panting against your folds. “Just like that, huh? So goddamn tight.”

You couldn’t even answer. You were gagging softly on his cock, drool running down your chin, one hand braced on his stomach as your hips rolled against his face. You felt his eyes on you. Watching his finger sink deeper, your hole pulsing around it. The feeling was insane—overwhelming in a way that made your whole body ache for more.

“You are the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. “So fuckin’ pretty. So perfect. Look at you, baby—mouth stuffed, ass stretched around my finger, drippin’ all over me. You’re so fucking good.”

It was disgusting. It was filthy. It was perfect.

His mouth pressed a kiss to your clit—wet and open-mouthed—before dragging his tongue up through your folds again. Your whole body twitched.

“You gonna let me have this ass too, baby?” he murmured, lips brushing your cunt as he spoke.

His finger circled again, slow and insistent at your muscle, and a soft groan rolled from him when your throat gagged around his cock. He was getting close, throbbing in your mouth, his voice changing as he went on.

“What if I said I wanted to fuck you here too?”

He kissed the tight ring of muscle, around his finger, licking, tongue darting out just to taste, “With my cock one day. Huh?”

He nipped gently moved back down to the seam of your pussy, tongue flicking your clit between words.

“Would you let me, baby? Would you let me stretch her open around me?”

His voice was unraveling now, rising into something almost sweet, like a lullaby, all innocence and grit.

“You’d take it so good,” he cooed, kissing your inner thigh. “I’d go slow, I promise. Just wanna feel it. Wanna watch her suck me in.”

You moaned, deep and helpless, throat tightening again around his cock, drool spilling freely down, collecting at the base of him where your hand worked.

“Yeah,” he whispered, dragging his tongue in slow, aching strokes through your slick. “I think you would. You’d let daddy take it, huh?”

You couldn’t hold it anymore. Your orgasm hit like a wave crashing against the shore, hard, and soaking everything in its wake. You shook as you came, choking on his thick, punching cock, pussy fluttering, stuffed full, his mouth working every bit out of you.

“Ride my face, princess,” he groaned, flattening his tongue. “C’mon, ride it. Ride my fuckin’ face.”

You did. You rocked against him, moaning, hips rolling as he licked through your release. His breath was hot and ragged, his face shaking back and forth to jostle it all from you.

Then his voice came again desperate and strained when he pulled back, holding your ass in his hands again, squeezing the life out of you. You’d have bruises. God, you hoped you’d have bruises.

“Where do you want me—oh, fuck—baby, where? Where?” He demanded now, desperate for his release.

You didn’t answer outright, but your grip changed on his cock, gripping it tight in your hand, wrapping your lips around him. It throbbed angry against your hold, his stomach twitching with holding back. 

And as he started to come, it was in a big, loud groan, raw and helpless, as his whole body jolted beneath you, emptying down your throat. You swallowed him down, greedy for it, your tongue massaging his vein, milking every last drop from him.

And when it was over, the air between you was thick with heady aftermath, the scent of salt and heat and skin.

Eventually, you shifted off of him, your legs sore and trembling as you collapsed to his side, dragging your body across his chest in a lazy crawl. His arm came around you automatically, wide and heavy, pulling you into the warm cradle of his body. The solid wall of him was grounding, his skin still damp, his chest rising slow with each deep breath.

You looked up at him, and a breathless little giggle slipped out of your mouth.

Pearls of your arousal still clung to his skin, glinting in the low light like dew. His beard was completely soaked—sticky with spit and slick and the scent of you, all sharp and honey sweet.

 “Wha’chu laughin’ at?” he teased, voice low and sleepy.

“I’m all over you, big guy.”

“Mmm.” His eyelids dropped, the sound more like a satisfied growl. His hand slid along your spine, fingers tracing the curve of your ass possessively, “Leave it, I like smellin’ like you.”

You hesitated, cheek pressed to the damp warmth of his chest. “So… um. That thing you did—”

He cracked an eye open, amused now.

“I think…” You swallowed, your voice a little shy, but still casual and breathy. “I think I liked it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, voice rough with sleep and something darker beneath it. You nodded, letting your fingertips draw lazy circles on his stomach.

He shifted, rolling slightly, pulling you tighter into him. His palm gripped your ass again, the same way it had when you were on top of him: greedy. You giggled a bit again, squirming in his hold.

“You wanna…” you began, your voice dropping, “maybe go again?”

He hummed, low and content where he lay.

“I mean…” you bit your lip, then smiled against his skin, “maybe while you’re inside me this time… you could try it again?”

Joel groaned dramatically, dragging his hand down the swell of your hip.

“I’ve created a monster.”

You grinned and nuzzled closer. “Your monster.”

He let out a low chuckle and tilted his head down, pressing a soft, messy kiss to the top of your head, the kind that made your stomach flip even more than his tongue had.

“I ain’t complainin’,” he murmured. “But you better gimme five minutes. I ain’t twenty anymore.”

“Five minutes?” you teased, reaching down to play with his soft shaft, “I was thinking three.”

He groaned again, hand already slipping lower to tease at the mess you’d made. “Jesus Christ.”

[dreamsteddie]

With parents rarely in town and friends who are close, but not touchy-feely, Steve spends most of his actual birthdays alone.

He goes to school, gets some claps on the back, some happy birthdays from a couple of teachers, and maybe a couple of small gifts from some girls who are crushing on him, but people know that he's going to have a big party at his house come the weekend and save their cheer for then.

When he was a kid, his birthday parties were about making his parents look like the loving, doting family they were supposed to be. Everyone in class was always invited plus any kids that were his parents friends'. There was cake and presents and Steve actually mostly enjoyed them, but as he started to get older he noticed that the gifts were rarely connected to his biggest interests and, in some cases, were things he already had.

In other words, Steve's birthday was never really about him.

Except for one thing. Every day since he was seven someone leaves him a card in a deep red envelope. In elementary school, it was in a cubby, in middle and high school they went in his locker, and on the years his birthday really did happen on a weekend, they were left unstamped in the mailbox.

The envelopes are nice, heavy card stock, the same one every year. The cards themselves are all different. From construction paper and crayon, to store bought, to letters written on lined paper, to postcards. They're usually short, but earnest.

"happy birthday!!! i hope you get lots of cake."

"Happy Birthday Steve! I hope we can be friends this year!"

"Stevie! Happy birthday! Don't listen to Jenny, no one cares about the braces. I hope you can still have cake this year."

"Happy Birthday King Steve. Ms. Carmen is planning a pop quiz on Monday. I saw the multiple choice answer key on her desk and swiped it. Hope it helps."

"Last birthday of high school! Maybe you're not the king anymore, but that's gotta feel good. Hope it's a happy birthday, man. You deserve it after Hargrove. Fuck that guy!"

Eleven years of birthday cards. Real ones, hand-made and written with real thought. He thinks maybe it's a girl, someone holding a torch for him. He knows he would love anyone that puts that much thought into him every year, but no one ever fesses up. He even entertains the idea that it's Tommy or Carol, too emotionally constipated to say anything nice to his face but thinking of him anyway, but then they blow up and the cards keep coming.

It's one of the only things that he mourns about high school when he graduated. Being on a team, not having to work, and the cards.

The summer of Russian spies passes, then the spring break from hell, and then all of a sudden it's May again.

He doesn't even realize it's his birthday. It's a Tuesday and he's got a routine. Wake up, shower, go to one of the volunteer reconstruction sites, work, have lunch with Robin, work some more, have dinner with the kids, look forward to Saturday when him and Eddie have a standing tradition of renting movies and smoking a joint, eat, sleep.

Tuesday, he goes to the construction site, sees Robin, does everything he needs to do, and drives home.

There's a letter in the mailbox.

He never gets mail, not now. Everyone has to pick theirs up at the post office until they fix the loading bay. It's always busy down there.

In the fading light, it takes him a moment to register what he's seeing.

A deep red envelope sticking out from the top of the box, made of the good cardstock. There was a part of him that always wondered if maybe those were his envelopes. Like maybe they were only used for him, once a year.

It's his birthday, and someone left him a card.

He rushes inside, kicking off his shoes by the door and turning on the foyer light. He doesn't bother to go to the living room, just rips it open right there by his mom's ugly hallway mirror.

"19! What a year, am I right? And just one more til the big 2-0. Honestly, not the greatest age if I do say so myself, but in this town, every year in your belt is a win."

It's another handmade one. Constriction paper and glue holding it together. He hasn't gotten one like this in a long time.

"Anyway, hope 19 treats you better than 18. Have a happy birthday, Stevie."

He thumbs the little doodle of a cupcake with a candle poking out of it in the corner of the letter. There's no name, no signature, not even a first initial. Just like always.

But he doesn't need it this year.

He knows that handwriting, now. Can hear the distinct inflection of the person who penned it. Only two people call him Stevie, and one already gave him his gift today.

He stuffs his feet back in his shoes and walks right back out the door.

Saturday's plans can be moved up a little bit. Weekend birthdays are overrated anyway.

[rumncokebaby]

whipped

pairing: johnny storm x female reader

synopsis: after a girls’ night out, johnny picks up a very drunk you who can’t stop calling him her “shiny husband.”

Johnny never really slept when you were out on girls’ nights. He’d tell you he would—“Go, have fun, I’ll see you in the morning”—but the truth was, he couldn’t relax until you were home. Not because he didn’t trust you—he trusted you more than anyone—but because he didn’t like the space in the bed when you weren’t in it. So he’d pace around, scroll through his phone, half-watch something on TV, until the hours crept later and later.

So when his phone buzzed that night and it wasn’t you but one of your friends asking if he could come get you, Johnny was already shrugging into his jacket before she finished explaining.

The bar was crowded, neon lights buzzing, music thumping. But he spotted you instantly—you were slouched in a booth, cheeks flushed, your laugh a little too loud. The second you caught sight of him, you lit up, scrambling to your feet with all the grace of a baby deer.

“Johnny!” you squealed, stumbling into him. He caught you easily, strong arms steadying your weight as you immediately started peppering his face with kisses—sloppy little smacks to his jaw, his nose, his cheeks. He couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of him.

“You came,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth before grabbing his face in both hands. “You’re the best boyfriend ever. My husband. My shiny husband.”

And Johnny—Johnny Storm, cocky, arrogant, smug Johnny Storm—giggled. A giddy, boyish sound that he tried to hide by tucking his face into your neck, grinning like a fool. God, he loved when you said that. He couldn’t wait for the day it’d be true.

“Alright, baby,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “Let’s get you home.”

You clung to him as he scooped you up bridal-style, ignoring your squeal of protest that you could totally walk. Your friends cheered you on as Johnny carried you straight out of the bar, shaking his head but smiling like you hung the stars.

What none of you realized was that paparazzi had been lurking outside, waiting for the perfect shot. And well—Johnny Storm carrying his very drunk, very giggly girlfriend in his arms? Yeah, they got plenty.

The car ride home was a blur of your rambling.

“Johnny, I love your nose.”

“My nose?” he asked, amused.

“Mmhm. And your eyeballs. They’re like a swimming pool. Can I swim in them? You’d get me floaties, right?”

He bit back laughter, squeezing your hand. “Of course, babe. I’ll get you the best floaties.”

You sighed dramatically, turning toward him with glassy eyes. “You’re sweeter than pancakes. And puppies. And fries. And you know how much I love fries.”

Johnny’s heart squeezed. He lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles, smiling softly. “That’s serious love.”

Back at the apartment, he eased you out of your shoes, coaxed a glass of water and Advil into your hands, and tucked you into bed. You tugged at his shirt until he slid in beside you, and then you were right back to peppering his face with kisses, giggling as you went.

“I love you the most,” you whispered, your words heavier now, sleep tugging at them. “You’re gonna be the best husband.”

Johnny laughed again, helpless and lovesick, pressing a kiss to your hair. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

You were already asleep before he got the answer. And he lay awake a while longer, smiling like an idiot, your words replaying in his head.

The next morning, you woke with a pounding head and the sun stabbing through the curtains. Johnny was already up, leaned against the headboard with his phone in hand, a glass of water and Advil waiting on the nightstand.

“Morning, Mrs. Storm,” he teased, setting his phone aside.

You groaned, flopping onto your back. “…Did I say that?”

“Oh, yeah. About twenty times. Called me your shiny husband.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Kill me.”

He chuckled, prying your hands away to kiss your knuckles. “Don’t worry, I liked it. Loved it, actually.”

You peeked up at him through your fingers. “…Really?”

“Really,” he said softly, brushing hair from your face. “You have no idea how much I loved it.”

You tried to smile, but he was already grinning, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Oh, and by the way? You told me you wanted to swim in my eyeballs.”

You smacked his chest. “No, I did not.”

“Exact words,” he said smugly. “Asked me if I’d get you floaties.”

You groaned, hiding in his chest. “I hate myself.”

He laughed, kissing your hair. “Don’t. It was adorable. Also—you told me I was sweeter than pancakes and puppies. And that you love me more than fries.”

You gasped softly. “Okay, wow. That’s… that’s big.”

“Biggest compliment of my life,” Johnny said, smirking. “I might frame it.”

You swatted him again, but your lips were tugging into a smile. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Always,” he murmured, tilting your chin to kiss you gently.

Later that afternoon, when you finally braved your phone, you realized why Johnny had been smirking at it all morning. Paparazzi shots of him carrying you out of the bar had exploded online—him holding you bridal-style, your arms looped around his neck, your face buried against his chest.

The internet had thoughts.

“find you someone who looks at you the way johnny storm looks at y/n 😭” “he’s literally HUSBAND material???” "heLLLOOOO???" “the way he carried her out like she was made of glass STOPP” “y/n calling him her husband drunk and then THIS happening… universe is trying to tell us something 👀” “JOHNNY STORM GIGGLING WHILE SHE KISSED HIS FACE this is why i believe in love”

#JohnnyStormHusbandMaterial trended within hours. Fans made edits of the paparazzi photos set to sappy songs, spliced with interview clips of Johnny talking about you. Someone even made a meme comparing him carrying you to a Disney prince, complete with sparkles.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the couch. “We’re a meme.”

Johnny slid an arm around you, pulling you close with a smug grin. “Correction: we’re relationship goals.”

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Baby,” he said, kissing your temple. “I haven’t stopped giggling about it since last night.”

By the evening, it wasn’t just fans blowing up your phone. It was family.

Sue had texted first: “Johnny, explain why my morning coffee is being interrupted by you trending worldwide with the hashtag #HusbandMaterial.”

Then Reed, ever the scientist, had followed up with a dry: “Statistically, it appears you and Y/N are the internet’s favorite couple. Congratulations.”

But the real trouble came when Ben barged into the living room at the Baxter Building later that day, holding his tablet like it was evidence in court.

“Well, well, Mr. Husband Material,” Ben said, his gravelly voice booming with laughter. “Care to explain why I just saw you carrying Y/N outta a bar like you were straight outta The Notebook?”

Johnny groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Ben—”

“Oh no, don’t you ‘Ben’ me,” the Thing barked, practically wheezing with amusement. “Look at this one! Look at your face, you’re smilin’ like a lovesick teenager. And her callin’ you husband? Ohhh, I’m never lettin’ this one go.”

Sue leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “To be fair, you do look very prince charming in those pictures.”

“Shut up, Sue,” Johnny muttered, cheeks burning.

Reed peeked up from his work, ever the calm observer. “I believe the term is ‘whipped,’ Johnny.”

That earned a round of laughter from the entire room, and you, sitting on the couch, only made it worse by chiming in sweetly, “He is whipped. My shiny husband.”

Johnny’s head snapped toward you, eyes wide. “Babe—!”

But it was too late—Ben nearly doubled over with laughter, pounding the wall with his massive hand. “Shiny husband! Ohhh, this is rich. Kid, I’m gonna be callin’ you that for years.”

Johnny groaned again, hiding his face in his hands while you leaned against him, grinning like the devil.

Later that night, after the teasing had died down and the Baxter Building had gone quiet, you and Johnny curled up together in your shared room. He was unusually quiet, running his fingers up and down your arm as you lay against his chest.

“You know…” he murmured finally, voice soft, “I really wouldn’t mind if you kept calling me that.”

You tilted your head up at him. “What, shiny husband?”

He chuckled, that boyish giggle slipping out again. “Yeah. Just… husband.” His eyes flicked down to yours, suddenly earnest. “Because one day, I really want to be.”

Your heart squeezed, and you pressed your lips to his jaw, smiling against his skin. “Good. Because one day, I really want you to be.”

He exhaled, a little laugh of relief in his chest, before kissing you slow and sweet, like he was sealing a promise neither of you had to say out loud anymore.

And somewhere, still trending online, was #JohnnyStormHusbandMaterial—proof that maybe the world already knew what you both did.

[dirtyvulture]

Beach Day

Milf!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 3346

Summary: A filthy idea from yours truly: Nat saying she doesn't want any more kids but when she sees beefy!R coming out of the pool with dripping wet muscles she immediately changes her mind. 😍

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

AN: I changed it to the beach but the same concept applies lol. 99% filth with 1% story…

“This looks like a good spot!” you declare, dumping all the beach gear in your arms onto the sand. Your two children squeal and take off running when they spot Steve and Thor setting up a volleyball net, with Yelena bossing them around and Kate hovering by her anxiously.

“Do not go in the water until you get your floaties on!” Natasha yells after them. “Did you two hear me?”

“Sestra, they will be fine with us,” Yelena responds, waving away your wife’s concerns. Stella, your four-year-old, squeals as Thor wraps her up in his gigantic arms and throws her nearly six feet into the air. 

“Thor! Don’t throw her so high!” Natasha says at the same time Stella begs, “Higher, Uncle Thor!” 

“Me next, me next!” Baxter chants, batting at Thor’s knee in case he isn’t heard.

“Relax, honey, they’re having a fun time,” you say, brushing your hand against Natasha’s lower back. 

“Did you put sunscreen on them?” She turns on you, worry creasing her forehead. Natasha had always been the overprotective parent, and while you hated when she stressed herself sick with exaggerated scenarios, you loved to see how much she cared about your children. 

“I did,” you answer, your hand sliding around her waist to pull her against you comfortingly. “I haven’t put any on myself yet, though,” you add to distract her.

“Maybe I can help you with that,” she volunteers.

“Perfect.” You shrug off your shirt and dig into Natasha’s oversized handbag for the sunscreen, passing the bottle to your wife. She makes you sit down so she can reach you easier and she squirts a glob of lotion onto her hand, rubbing it across your massive shoulders and dutifully covering every inch of your broad back. 

You turn to face her and offer her your arms, and she swats away your attempts to help. 

“Let me,” she insists, rubbing sunscreen onto your bicep and around to your tricep. You subtly flex your arm muscles until the veins stand out, smiling when you see the grin stretch Natasha’s face. You are well aware how much your wife loves how strong you are and you never pass up an opportunity to show off. 

After your arms are sufficiently covered, she does your chest and stomach. Arousal flames in your groin when her hand runs down your abs, her fingers slipping past the band of your swim shorts and just barely brushing the base of your cock. 

“Oops, maybe you don’t need sunscreen there,” she apologizes, although not looking apologetic at all. Natasha was such a tease with you, in public and in private, but it made you so happy to know she still wanted you after all the years you two spent together. 

You take the sunscreen with her once she’s finished to return the favor. Natasha sheds her lacey cover-up and you pause to stare at her. Even after having two children, she is still so gorgeous she practically makes your mouth water. Her curves have gotten a bit fuller (and so have her breasts), but now that the kids are less dependent on her, she’s had more time to spend on herself and goes to the gym almost as frequently as you. Her determination and beauty will forever impress you.

“Ahem.” Natasha clears her throat.

“Yes.” You squirt sunscreen into your hand and start with the back of her neck, massaging the lotion into her shoulders and down her back. Natasha ruts her butt back until it brushes against the front of your shorts.

“Baby,” you groan, not wanting to get riled up within minutes of arriving at the beach. 

“What?” she asks dumbly, giving you an impish grin. 

Natasha lays out on a towel to tan, while you join your children on the sand. They’re a little too intimidated to join the adults in a very competitive game of volleyball–while Steve and Thor dominate in height and strength, they have half the will of Yelena and Kate, who somehow manage to ground the ball on the men’s side of the net with every rally.

You give Baxter a plastic trowel so he can fill a bucket with sand, showing him how to compact the dirt so when Stella flips it upside-down, the sand maintains its shape in the form of the bucket. They repeat the process a few times, building a little artillery of bucket-buildings, but they hardly have a few minutes to enjoy the fruits of their labor when the tide washes high and crumples their work. 

Natasha opens her eyes when she hears the high-pitched screaming of her children, fearing the worst only to see you hoisting Baxter upside-down by his ankle while he cheers and screams. Stella dances around you, tugging at your shorts for a turn. Her heartbeat relaxes as she watches you play with the children. While you had always expressed your desire to be a parent, she had been more reserved, unsure if she would be a good mother or role model. But after she had Stella, her doubts were replaced with the fierce passion to protect her daughter and teach her everything she knew. And then she had Baxter, who was a little more of a handful in his infancy, and Natasha swore she was done having kids. 

Stella and Baxter come bouncing over to her for some snacks and more sunscreen.

“Do you want to join us in the water, honey?” you ask Natasha, throwing a handful of Goldfish crackers into your mouth. 

“Maybe in a bit,” Natasha says, feeling particularly lazy today while you and her friends keep her children entertained. 

“Okay!” You remain cheerful, blowing up the floaties for Baxter and helping Stella put her life vest on. After a second application of sunscreen and waiting long enough for Natasha to deem you all ready to enter the water after eating, you pick up your kids and carry them to the water’s edge. 

While Stella and Baxter are strong swimmers, you’re always a little extra nervous being with them in open water. Luckily, Steve and Thor come to join you on a pair of surfboards, having given up volleyball after a tremendous loss to the girls. Steve shows Stella how to balance on his board and pushes her towards shore. Baxter is less interested in the board and asks to be cannonballed into the water by Thor. 

Knowing that your kids are safe under the watchful eyes of their uncles, you paddle back to shore to spend a moment with Natasha. 

Yelena sets the volleyball to Kate, now on the other side of the net after the boys ditched them. But Kate completely ignores the ball falling on her side of the court. 

“Kate Bishop!” Yelena calls out in frustration, backtracking to grab the spare volleyball outside the invisible court lines. She follows her friend’s gaze to where she’s looking out at the ocean. 

Both Kate and Natasha are staring at the same thing: you, emerging from the water like a Baywatch lifeguard. Beads of water run down your chest and washboard abs. Your upper body is shaped like an inverted triangle, and when you raise your arm to brush the wet hair out of your face, your bicep bunches up like a ball under your skin. 

Natasha’s eyes are glued to your perfect body like she’s never seen you before. She knows she isn’t the only one on the beach staring at you, but a feral pulse of arousal swirls in her belly because she knows she’s the only one here who gets to take you to bed. 

You wade towards the shore, almost in slow-motion, as the water level lowers past your waist and then to your knees. You adjust the band of your shorts, which have fallen concerningly low on your hips, emphasizing the vein on your abs that disappears beyond your waistband. Natasha crosses her legs, squeezing her thighs together tightly as her throb of arousal beats harder. She can already picture herself dragging you back to the hotel room, laying you on the bed and riding your dick until neither of you can walk. 

“Goddamn,” someone near Natasha whistles. “I wish I could have that one for dinner…”

Fighting the urge to swing on the woman, Natasha instead gets up to wait by the water for you, so every woman here can see who you belong to. 

“Hi babe,” she greets, immediately putting her hands on your hips the second you step within her reach. “The kids okay?”

“Yeah, they’re with Steve and Thor. I figured I’d get a break from them while I can.”

Natasha’s hands wipe the water from your chest and then she starts fussing with the tie on your shorts. 

“Everything okay, sweetie?” you ask, rubbing her arm as she leans into you, her hands circling to your butt and squeezing to bring you closer to her, until your fronts bump. 

“I want to spend time with you,” she whispers, squeezing your ass harder and you know exactly what she’s referring to. “It’s my turn.”

“What about–”

“The guys can watch the kids. And my sister,” she says, standing on her toes to kiss you before taking your hand and dragging you away from the water’s edge. “Hey, Lena!” she calls out, “Can you help watch the kids for a bit? We’ll be right back.”

“Uh, where are you…” Yelena stops talking when she notices the way her sister is looking at you. She turns back to the volleyball net, where Kate is also still looking at you with her mouth hanging open. Yelena spikes the ball into her face.

The two of you barely make it back to your hotel room, only stopping at an outdoor shower to rinse off the smell of ocean water and sand off your body (privately, you’re surprised Natasha doesn’t try and take you right in the shower stall). She practically humps you in the elevator and you have no problem returning her enthusiasm, lighting groping her under the privacy of her cover-up. Your love for your wife is indescribable: she makes you so happy and feel so loved, and she is the best mother to your children that you could ever ask for. 

You cup Natasha’s face and kiss her hard, trying to convey your passion and love for her. She presses her body against yours, her nipples straining through the fabric of her bikini top and poking your bare chest. 

“I got so horny watching you on the beach,” Natasha pants, clawing at the waistband of your shorts. “And then the things I heard people saying about you…” You raise your eyebrows, not following for a moment. “They wanted you,” she says simply. “And then it made me even hornier to think I’m the only one who gets to make you cum.” She pulls down your wet shorts and tosses them somewhere on the floor. 

Your hard cock slaps against your abs and you grab it by the base, squeezing lightly to remind yourself not to finish too early. Natasha removes her cover-up again and plumps up her chest to emphasize her cleavage. You wonder if she’ll let you fuck her tits, but she seems to have other ideas as she sinks to her knees and leans forward and plants a kiss to the skin above your straining cock. 

“Baby,” you moan, jerking your hips forward as she grabs onto your cock, stroking it until it throbs steadily in her hand. You watch, practically panting, as she wraps her lips around the tip and sucks until she’s rewarded with a dribble of your pre-cum. Natasha hums at your taste, anchoring her hands on the tree trunks of your thighs to steady herself. Wetness gathers between her own thighs as she bobs her head, taking your length down her throat with ease. She loves to make you feel good and even though you’re seemingly in the dominant position, she has total control over you.

You place one hand behind Natasha’s head, tangling your fingers in her hair as you thrust into her throat harder and harder. The tip of your cock rubs past the ridged roof of her mouth before pushing into the wet tightness of her throat and another moan rumbles in your chest.

“You gonna let me finish in that pretty mouth of yours?” you grunt, humping forward until Natasha’s lips practically make contact with your hips. She mumbles an answer you can’t hear, but she doesn’t release you either. It takes a monumental effort to slow the movement of your hips, but you won’t finish without her consent. Natasha looks up at you and winks, her tongue brushing over the pounding vein of your cock and you buck your hips and unleash your load instantly. 

Clutching onto her head for life, you feel the hot bursts of your seed go directly down her throat as your wife swallows obediently. Natasha milks you for every drop you have to offer before she finally lets you pull out, your legs still trembling as you step back to collapse on the bed. 

“Fuck, that felt so good,” you murmur as she climbs on top of you and kisses you. “Can I return the favor, babe?”

“Hmm,” Natasha says, as if she’ll seriously ever turn down the opportunity for you to eat her out. She rocks against your muscular body, trailing her fingers over the ridges of your obliques. “Yes, you may,” she finally says, removing her bikini and moving up to straddle your face backwards. You greedily reach for her naked body, digging your fingers into the plushness of her thighs as she lowers her dripping center over your mouth. The scent of her arousal smothers you and you eagerly lap at her slit, sliding your tongue through her wetness until you find her clit, swiping it over it until you hear her moan so loud you fear your neighbors will hear. 

“Right there, Y/N, right there,” she begs, falling forward with her hands on your chest. Your arms flex around her thighs to pull her closer, stretching your tongue into her as deep as you can. Her legs tremble around your head and you feel her hands run down your chest, scratching over your abs as she leans forward to trace the pelvic creases leading to your dick. 

Her back arches towards you and you wish you had a better angle to see how her body bows to your touch. You could spend hours under her like this, pleasuring her with every part of your body and still feel like you never gave her enough. Natasha grinds down harder on your face and her nails dig into your hips as she finds her balance. Your tongue pistons into her and you nibble lightly on her pulsing clit. 

“Fuck, Y/N!” she gasps, wetness flooding into your mouth. You’re so distracted trying to lap up every drop you don’t notice her hand close around your dick, pumping it to hardness again. 

“Oh God,” you mumble, pulling away from her slick center to catch your breath. But before you can dive back in for a second round, Natasha lifts herself off and swivels around so she can sit on your thighs. 

“I think I want you to put another baby in me,” she says, still stroking you and your cock leaks a dribble of pre-cum. 

“Are you sure? I thought you said you didn’t…” Your voice trails off when Natasha positions you at her entrance, pushing you in until only your tip is smothered by her heat. 

“Just one more,” she pants, feeling like she’s going to melt with the lust she has for you. Your perfectly muscular body under her, your cock hard and throbbing, ready to please and fill her. “And then you get can get snipped.”

You laugh and grab onto her hips, rocking more of yourself into her. To be fair, the two of you had already had the long discussions about adding another member to your family. Natasha had given you an adamant no, which you had respected, even going so far as to scheduling a vasectomy, but she stopped you before you could go, saying she was unsure after all. You were content with Stella and Baxter as it was, but if she was ready to have another, you were not going to deny her that. 

“I think we can make that happen,” you hum, looking down to where your cock just barely spreads her apart, waiting for her to properly sheath you in her heat. 

“Yes, I think we can,” she agrees, shifting her legs wider so she can accept your thick shaft. She is so wet for you that you slide in with almost no resistance, her velvet walls hugging and squeezing you. No matter how many times the two of you fucked, you would never tire of her body on yours, how she felt around you, how she brought you to the most mind-blowing orgasms of your life. 

You grunt and arch your back off the mattress, determined to fill her with every inch you have. Natasha lays on your chest, kissing your face and neck as she swivels her hips in tight circles. There are no more thoughts of future children in your head as you focus only on the pounding between your legs, snapping your hips up to meet her thighs. Your hands run down her back, your fingers curling into the dimples of her lower back before settling around her perfectly toned butt.

“Nat, Nat, Nat,” you chant mindlessly, your abs flexing and heaving as you try not to buck her off completely. 

“Hmm, I thought you would last a little longer,” your wife teases, squeezing herself around your cock particularly tight and you lock your knees to pause your thrusts, but she rocks her hips faster and you lose your breath. “I bet you can’t wait to fill me up with your hot cum and get me pregnant, huh?”

“If that’s what you want,” you reiterate in a strangled voice, now using every muscle you possess to flatten yourself on the bed. But Natasha knows your body better than you do, and if she wants to finish soon, she knows exactly what to do to get it. She leans back, pushing her heaving chest forward and inviting you to grab onto her breasts–which you do so a little roughly but very enthusiastically. Then she grinds down on you to ensure she’s filled with your entire length and takes one of your hands, guiding it down to her stomach so you can feel the bulge of your cock through her.

“Fuck me, baby,” she says with a wink, and your control snaps. You push your hips up hard, watching with laser focus as the faint bulge in her stomach moves with everyone one of your thrusts. The stimulation of her pussy gripping your cock and the added visual of you inside her is too much and you finish without warning this time, pumping hot ropes of cum deep into her womb. 

“Oh, fuck, Nat,” you moan, going light-headed as you empty yourself, finally collapsing onto the bed, panting and sweating. She lays on top of you, stroking your chest and occasionally rolling her hips, which causes you to jolt with the overstimulation. “I love you so much, honey.” You wrap your arms around her back and press her close. “And I can’t wait to see you carry our third child.”

“Me too,” she hums in agreement, craning her neck to whisper in your ear. “I hope you’re ready for another round soon. Because we’re not leaving this room until I’m sure you’ve gotten me pregnant.”

And that was how Steve, Thor, and Yelena were stuck watching the children until well after dinnertime, and it wasn’t until they sent Kate to look for you two, who ran back to the group utterly traumatized and a little turned on, and said the kids would need to sleepover with them for the night. 

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AN: It was actually kind of cute to write about R and Nat with their kids…and then making another lmao.

Also, I absolutely could not pass up on an opportunity to reference the OG Peeping Kate…she’s still at it. 😉

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[writingat12am]

lil silly goofy thing for my D&D character Zink, and their ‘definitely-not-homoerotic-situationship-who-died’ Zephyrus

(And is getting resurrected for the purposes of this writing exercise 👍)

(Also note, have no clue how coffins super work- so not super accurate lol)

...this became really long I did not intend this (1,900 words)

welp enjoy! Any feedback is helpful :)

TW: depictions of corpses/ death (fairly decomposed, nothing crazy), vomiting

The earth under Zinks nails stung as he carved deeper and deeper into the cold terra firma. Palms raw and cracked from frantic digging.

He had come with a shovel, among other things. His wits were included in that list but as he drew closer and closer to his companions grave, heartbeat swelling closer to his ears they gave way to something else, scratching voraciously for a sign of the simple wooden coffin. Unmarked, unknown, left for the trees. How they both thought a grave should be. (Other than the small elvish markings in the stump nearby, but no one other than Zink, maybe Zeph, could make out the cursive.)

The sun was cradled by the mountain range as the rasp of nails against wood was heard. A shallow swallow all Zink could manage, “He’s here, I am doing this, oh gods, this is incredulous”

As he uncovered more of the coffin, more thoughts surfaced;

“What if he doesn’t recognize me?” He found the top lip of the coffin.

“What if I can’t save him?” He uncovered the rusted brass hinges on the side.

“…What if he doesn’t like the person I’ve become.” He paused as he held the corner latch.

The questions always ruminated in Zinks head, possibilities, ‘what if’s’, happy and sad endings. It never stopped him from pulling himself out of his stupor, finding a home, finding allies, finding answers. Finding a way to save Zephyrus- the man who saved him.

He owed Zeph this.

Zink pushed the white curls of his hair back into a small ponytail, inhaled deeply to bite the bile back, whisps of cold breath fogging his field of vision and open the lid.

There was no wave of the stench of death, no swarm of flies or spiders to engulf Zink in his doubt. Just cold, slightly soddy smelling, air.

When he dared a peak, it was, about as expected.

Some of the wood had rotted away- allowing for soil to seep in, among other bugs who had made a home out of his body for the time being. But Zeph…was gone. Remnants of flesh, clothing, and life seeped into the soil and gone from the yellowed skeleton in front of Zink.

He could feel his stomach tense, like he was expecting Zeph to have somehow been spared from the ever moving circle of life. Be preserved in the ground with his hands enclasped with a tulip and forget me not- their favorite flowers respectively. But all that was left was some finger bones, fallen through the rib cage near the center. The only thing indicating it had been Zinks friend, his vessel, was a chipped front tooth he’d had since childhood.

Zink moved cautiously, as if stirring too loud would cause the skeleton to fall apart, grabbing a ring inlayed with a tear drop diamond and his worn leather notebook full of notes on things as mundane as shopping lists to his spells.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting stark shadows above the grave and through the colorful turning early-autumn trees. Zink coughed as he blew away any webs and bugs from the area, slipping the diamond ring onto the boney index finger. The book thrumming as he took it into his shaky hands, flipping the waxy pages to the dog eared one containing the incantation.

Through bated breath, Zink began to read the incantation.

The words came naturally, like he’d practiced through hundreds of sleepless nights, but instead of a small rock, his hand now touching the diamond.

“Mors est filum quod ego rego.,” a wispy string of light connected Zink's fingers to the diamond, refracting the light across the sod and outwards towards the sky.

“Hoc decreto et voluntate Kythi,” the breeze whipped in his face, but the grass started leaning towards the grave, as if it was listening to the incantation.

He continued, ",animam eius corpori restitue." The light flowed into the ground, seeming to sap energy from the fauna, coiling up Zink's hand he could feel it taking him too.

"I haven't come this far to fail, c'mon just a little longer..." His hand began to pound, like the magic was trying to envelope it with the spell.

The light was mostly white, bluing at the edge like a low flame. But at certain angles it shimmered a warm orange and yellow and purple, refracting like a light catcher and growing in shine. The incantation continued, whipping the fall foliage around him, feeling the sting of gravel on his face and hand.

Tears blurred Zink's vision as he steadied himself, "Libera eum a morbo qui olim eum vexabat," the light blinding him as the sinew started to reconstruct and rewind itself around the bones, "his bones" Zink thought.

His head pounded, the only thought in his mind each word, illuminated to him behind his lids from desperation of hours of replaying this to himself.

"et ad hunc planum reduc qualis erat!" He didn't entirely find himself yelling the last part, but the whoosh of the wind around him made it difficult to hear.

The magic seemed to swell in that moment, overtaking in a surge of ice through his veins, so fast and frenzied, finding any part of him to feed the spell. He used his other arm to keep the other straitened, falling numb from the rigidness of the movement.

Everything moved too quickly. The light that felt like it held Zink taut as it took from him receded in one motion, sending him keeling; disoriented; nauseous. The world around him returned to its regular hum within a second.

Gods his head hurt, everything hurt. Like a wicked pound of thunder pulsating through the entirety of his body, as if he'd been revived. The setting sun too bright behind his eyelids, the squeak of wood too loud, his clothes too itchy and tight.

He heard a heave of breathe, not his own not his own not his own.

A cough wracked through the natural noise.

"Holy shit" Zink forced his eyes open, the edges of everything soft and disoriented.

He forced himself to look in the grave, the bile rising up, so scared of the 'what ifs', so many what ifs.

There were no yellowing bones to catch the remaining light, instead casting ruddy highlights on warm brown skin, bisected by shimmering bluish lines following the veins in pattern. His face casted in shadow as he turned to his side as the wheezing continued. Light refracted off of a large patch of magic still weaving on his side.

The side where he'd been struck by the poisoned dagger.

"Zeph?" Zink asked, like there was any question as to who this was. His voice cracked under a weight he'd carried for the last three years.

Curly hair stuck to his face as he turned, dark eyes catching as amber in the light as the heaving subsided. Squinting up and out of the grave at the figure who looked about ready to collapse into the hole in the ground.

"Zink?" he croaked, voice groggy as if unused, which it was. For 3 years, 2 mont-

He managed a small nod, "Yes." His body reeling from too much input. He's alive, he's alive, he's ALIVE.

A force knocked him backwards onto the grass, making the bile come closer to his mouth. But he didn't fucking care, Zephyrus Vandrinnos was alive.

"Oh my gods, you- you brought me back didn't you Zink? I-"

Zink felt the burn in his throat rise, realizing he was about to spill his guts onto the man he just revived, he tried to push him off.

"Get off, going to- puke," he managed before the chunks of soup and tea he'd drunk earlier came wretching out in waves, spilling onto the dry grass.

Thank the gods he'd had enough forethought to not eat too much solid foods.

In between heaves he managed, "bottle, next to me, healing."

Zeph fumbled for the small bottle, handing it over quickly The cork squeaking as Zink flipped it off and chugged the rosy colored contents, willing himself despite the burning sensation after the acid had come up. A warm, non invasive quality washing over his body. He gasped as he finished the contents, the pain already beginning to ebb.

"You okay?" Zeph managed, much quieter now.

"Yeah...yeah"

Zink blinked away the blurry edges of his vision, trying not to look at the retch below him, opting for Zeph instead.

A burn of embarrassment lept across Zinks face, "shit, clothes."

He clipped off the cloak he had on, trying not to look over at Zeph before he was decent, "there are some more clothes in the bag, and boots." The wind whipped him as he took of the cloak, getting colder as the sky grew more purple.

Zeph looked over to the bag, brow knitted, "You brought me back..."

"Yeah, somehow."

"With magick?"

"Yes."

"Why in the nine hells would you do that?! Do you know how dangerous that is."

The irony wasn't lost on Zink, he bit his lip, this was something he thought would happen.

"Because..." Zink started, trying to collect his thoughts? Because he could have saved him, because he wasn't good enough to survive, because he couldn't bear the thought of living on without Zeph. All options too honest right now, not when this was supposed to be about getting the other to a safe place so they could talk about this later.

In reality Zink hadn't thought this far.

"Because what?"

"Guilt," a summary of the storm inside his head. He pushed himself away from the grave, towards the stump to lean against. After a minute of neither speaking, he continued.

"I- I was lost. I thought that, if I were to revive you, things would...be normal again, us two against the world. But," he blinked up, looking at Zeph near the bag, unsure whether or not to go through it, "it's been years now, gods, now that I've gone through with it. I don't even know if you'll like me anymore. I just wanted you alive, happy. Even if its not with me." His voice was filled with more venom towards himself than anything else. Not angry at Zeph for pushing questions, because- by all accounts what he is doing is illegal, but he didn't fucking care.

Because he loved him. And even if he wanted nothing to do with him now, at least he was alive. Zink knew that he was alive and could live out the life he wanted in any corner of the world. That was enough for him.

Somewhere in between all this, Zink looks at his hand incredulously, it was even more ironic that now of all times, he'd become paled skinned, reverting back to his true form, changeling; freak.

"I'm still me, but.... Hell, I don't even have the same face I had while we were adventuring. You don't know this," he said, guesturing to his face, "You don't know me anymore."

Zink breathed in, not realizing his eyes were close to watering.

The squeak of leather a brush of grass echoed as Zeph approached him, squatting down so they'd be at eye level, using a finger to tilt Zink's chin up towards him to force him to face him.

"Well, the Zink I knew was definitely stubborn and loyal enough to go do something so stupid, and then doubt everything about us. Even if there are gaps, that's okay. Ill get to know you again."

-

End

"You don't know me. I'm not the same person anymore."

"That's okay. I'll get to know you again."

[inseobts]

Storm in Disguise

law × fem!reader

you're kaido’s daughter, torn between your family’s shadow and your growing bond with trafalgar law.

a/n: forgive me for skipping the part about yamato calling himself oden etc but I needed to focus on the rest T.T it's also longer than I was planning lmao sorryyy

words count: 10k

tags: punk hazard + dressrosa + wano arc spoilers, reader is kaido’s daughter,  slow burn, found family

law m.list || anime m.list || ao3 || ko-fi

The rain is heavy, turning the harbor into a blur of gray and blue.

Your heart pounds as you run, boots splashing in the puddles. Behind you, the Marines shout.

"There she is!"

You keep your hood low, clutching the small bag with everything you own. You can’t let them catch you, not here, not now.

A gunshot cracks the air. You dive behind a stack of barrels.

And then a shadow falls over the dock.

A huge yellow submarine surfaces right in front of you. Its deck bursts with movement. Figures appear, some human, some… not?

"Oi, Captain!" a man with a shark grin calls out "Looks like trouble down there."

The one in the white fuzzy hat steps forward, calm even in the chaos. He glances at the Marines, then at you.

"She’s surrounded." the shark-man says.

"Yeah," the man in the hat answers "Deal with it."

It happens fast. The crew jumps down, weapons out. A white bear swings his paw, sending a Marine flying into the sea. Two others block the pier while gunfire is deflected or dodged.

You stare, frozen, as they clear a path to you.

"Come on!" the bear yells.

"I—" you hesitate, eyeing the hat-wearing man who’s still watching from the deck.

"No time!" the bear shouts again, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the rope ladder.

You climb, still in shock. By the time you reach the deck, the crew is laughing, counting the Marines they knocked out.

"She’s cute." the shark-man says with a grin.

The blond one with glasses pushes up his frames "And she looks like she can handle herself. Right?"

"I… guess." you mumble, still catching your breath.

"She should stay!" the shark-man says.

"Yeah," the bear adds "We can’t just throw her back to those guys."

The man in the hat finally speaks. His voice is low, almost lazy "We don’t know who she is."

You keep your bangs over your left eye, hiding the faint golden mark that could ruin you.

"I’m nobody," you say quickly "Just… trying to get away."

The crew exchanges looks.

The bear turns to the captain "Come on, Law. Let her stay for now."

Law’s eyes meet yours for a long, silent moment. He looks like he’s trying to read your soul.

Finally, he shrugs "Fine. For now. Just know that if you try to do anything I don’t like I’ll stop you."

And just like that, you’re on a pirate ship.

It’s been a few years now and life on the Polar Tang feels almost normal. You laugh with the crew, spar on deck, even tease Bepo until he growls and chases you around. They don’t treat you like a stranger anymore. You’re one of them.

And still, no one knows the truth.

Not about the land you ran from. Not about the blood in your veins. Not about the name you buried. You started covering your eye with an eye patch, like a true cool pirate (yeah).

Today, the submarine surfaces near a small island for supplies. The crew spreads out, but somehow you and Law end up walking side by side.

You keep talking about the weather, about the weird-looking birds overhead, about anything to fill the silence.

He doesn’t say much, just listens with that unreadable face of his.

Finally, he glances at you "You’re loud today."

Your cheeks heat up "W-What’s that supposed to mean? I’m always loud… for your standards. "

A faint smirk tugs at his lips "Exactly."

You stop walking for a second, heart pounding. Did he just… tease you?

Back at the market stalls, you grab fruit, bread, and anything cheap, trying to focus. But every time you reach for something, you feel his presence behind you. Calm. Heavy. Too close.

When you turn, your hands almost touch as you both reach for the same basket.

You freeze.

So does he.

The world feels very small, like it’s only the two of you, your hand inches from his.

You snatch the basket too fast, nearly dropping it.

"I-I’ll carry it!" you stammer, voice higher than usual.

Law raises an eyebrow "You’re acting strange."

"I’m not!" You spin around, hiding your burning face.

Later, when you return to the Tang, the crew notices.

"Oi, Y/N, why’s your face so weird?" Penguin asks.

"Sunburn!" you shout, way too quickly.

Shachi smirks, "Sure it is."

Law passes by without a word, but you catch the corner of his mouth twitching.

And that’s when it hits you.

You’ve been part of this crew for years. You’ve fought with them, laughed with them, lived with them. But with him it’s different.

You don’t just want to be part of his crew. You want to be something more.

And from the way he keeps watching you when he thinks you’re not looking… maybe he feels the same.

All this but then the Polar Tang starts feeling different lately.

Law spends hours locked in his room, poring over maps and letters. Sometimes you hear him talking quietly with Penguin and Shachi, and when you walk in, they all shut up like kids caught stealing sweets.

You hate it.

But you hate something else even more: the way your stomach flips every time he walks past you.

Today, you’re sitting with Bepo, polishing your sword. He asks something about Wano, you’re shocked and scared at first but then notice it's just a random question with a random topic, so you laugh it off, the same way you always do, and somehow he lets it go. Then the door opens, and Law steps in.

Your laugh dies in your throat.

"Captain." you say, too quickly, too loud.

He blinks at you "What?"

"Nothing!" you nearly drop the sword on your foot.

Bepo tilts his head "Y/N, your face is red again."

"I’m fine! It’s just… hot in here!" you shout, though the submarine is freezing.

Law gives you a look, the kind that makes your knees weak "Don’t cut your foot off. We don’t have spare limbs lying around."

He leaves, coat swishing behind him.

You collapse back on the bench, groaning "Why is he like this?"

Bepo blinks again "Like what?"

"Never mind." you mutter, covering your face.

A few nights later, the crew is eating together. You’re telling some ridiculous story, arms waving, voice loud enough that Shachi nearly chokes on his drink from laughing.

Then you notice Law watching you from the other side of the table.

Your words die mid-sentence.

He raises one eyebrow, waiting for you to continue.

You slam your cup down "I-I forgot the rest of the story!"

Shachi snorts "What, you? Forget a story? Since when?"

The crew bursts into laughter, but you keep your eyes on your plate, trying not to melt into the floor.

The worst comes later, during training.

You spar with Shachi, wooden swords clashing. You’re grinning, cocky, about to win, until you catch Law leaning against the railing, watching.

Your face flames instantly.

Shachi takes the chance and whacks you hard in the ribs.

"Ow!" you yelp, dropping the sword.

"You okay?" Shachi laughs, helping you up.

You wave him off, muttering "I’m fine. Totally fine."

But Law’s eyes linger a second longer than usual, unreadable, before he turns away.

And that’s the problem.

He never says anything. He never shows anything. But every time he looks at you, your heart feels like it’s going to burst.

And you can’t shake the feeling he’s planning something without you.

Tonight the night feels heavier than usual. The Polar Tang is quiet, the crew already asleep, but you can’t.

When you step onto the deck for air, you almost bump right into him.

"Traf— uh, Captain." you stammer.

Law doesn’t snap at you for being awake. He doesn’t tell you to rest. Instead, he looks at you in a way that makes your chest tighten.

"You’re still up." he says softly.

"So are you." you reply, forcing a smile "Planning again?"

For once, he doesn’t answer. Instead, he gestures for you to sit with him on the railing. The sea glimmers under the moon, waves brushing against the submarine’s hull.

You talk about nothing at first just random little things but he’s quiet, almost… clingy. His shoulder brushes yours more than once. His gaze lingers. He even lets out a soft laugh at one of your stupid jokes.

Your heart races. Is this it? Is he finally…?

Then he says your name. Just your name. Low, serious.

You swallow hard "Y-Yeah?"

"You’ve been… important. To this crew." His voice is careful, too careful "And to me."

Your stomach flips "Really? I mean, I—I know, I’m great company and all, but—"

He cuts you off "You made this place feel… alive. I don’t say this often, but I’m grateful."

Your face burns but as he keeps talking, the words twist "You deserve better than this life. If anything happens… remember the crew will look after you. Don’t lose that smile, no matter what."

The warmth in your chest turns cold. Why does this sound like… goodbye?

You grab his sleeve, frowning "What are you talking about? What’s going to happen? Is this about all those plans you keep hiding from us? From me?"

He doesn’t answer.

"Then what’s this speech supposed to be? A confession? A farewell? Which is it?"

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment you swear you see everything he can’t say. The weight of secrets. The possibility of death.

Finally, he exhales and mutters only two words, "I’m sorry."

Before you can ask again, he pulls away, coat swaying as he disappears down the hall.

You’re left on the deck, heart pounding, mind spinning.

The next morning, the crew finds his room empty.

"Where’s the Captain?" Shachi mutters, confused.

Bepo holds a folded letter in his paws, ears drooping.

You snatch it, scanning the words. It isn’t instructions for a quick errand. It isn’t a mission for all of you.

It’s a way forward without him.

Your chest tightens "He… he left us?"

The room goes silent.

And all you can hear is his voice from last night. I’m sorry.

The letter crumples in your hands.

You stare at the crew, your voice trembling "You’re telling me none of you knew? Not one of you?"

Shachi frowns "We didn’t—"

"Don’t lie!" you snap "He’s been planning something for weeks, locking himself away, whispering to you guys. And you expect me to believe you knew nothing?"

Penguin raises his hands "Hey, calm down—"

"Don’t tell me to calm down!" Your throat tightens "He left. Alone. He left us!"

The words cut deep, like a blade you can’t pull out.

Bepo steps closer, ears low "If Captain doesn’t want to be found… we can’t find him."

You shake your head violently, tears blurring your vision "No. No, that’s not true. I’ll find him. I have to—"

Shachi grabs your arm gently "Y/N, stop. You know him. If he wanted us there, he’d have brought us."

You rip your arm away "Then I’ll go alone!"

Silence. Everyone just stares.

Your lip trembles "He… he gave me that stupid speech last night. I thought—" Your voice cracks "I thought it meant something else."

The tears spill before you can stop them. You turn on your heel and storm out, slamming the door behind you.

You don’t leave your room the whole day.

At first, the crew respects it. You hear footsteps outside, whispers, but no one knocks.

Then, little by little, food starts appearing. A tray left at the door. Tea, soup, bread. You push it away the first time. The second time too. But by the third, your stomach wins.

When you finally open the door, Shachi, Penguin, Bepo, even the quiet ones, are all there.

You sit with them, half-embarrassed, half-relieved. The submarine feels too empty without him, and you realize you aren’t the only one hurting.

"He’s our Captain," Bepo says softly "It’s hard for all of us too."

You nod, wiping your eyes "I know. It’s just… I'm sorry."

You hesitate. The words slip out before you can stop them "I… I love him."

The room goes dead silent.

Your eyes widen "Wait— I didn’t— I didn’t mean—"

Shachi smirks, "Oh, you meant it."

Bepo nods "We all knew."

Penguin blinks "Wait, what? You’re serious?"

The whole crew groans "Penguin, seriously?!"

You bury your burning face in your hands "Oh my god. I can’t believe I just said that out loud."

Shachi pats your back "Took you long enough."

For the first time since he left, you laugh through your tears.

But your chest still aches. Because no matter how much they know, or how much they comfort you, he’s not here. And you don’t know if you’ll ever see him again.

Since then, every morning you wake with the same thought.

Maybe today he’s back.

You stretch, rub your eyes, and glance at the empty spot on the ship where he always stands. Where he used to drink tea, or read, or quietly sketch maps.

But it’s never him… Just silence. Just the sea.

You smile for the crew, you’re always the loud one, the cheerful one. But inside, it eats at you. The waiting. The not knowing.

You cling to the newspapers, reading every scrap about the world, about pirates, about him. But words aren’t enough. They never tell you if he’s safe.

Time pass.

Then Bepo comes back with news. Zou. A reunion point.

Your heart races the whole journey. You laugh with the others, but your hands shake whenever you think of seeing him again. What if he’s changed? What if you have? What if he doesn’t even…

You push the thought away.

The moment arrives. You step onto Zou’s forest, the smell sharp and wet.

And then there he is.

Trafalgar Law stands at the clearing, tall, calm, like he never left.

Bepo runs first. He collides into Law with tears in his eyes, hugging tight "Captain! We’re all here! Everyone’s safe!"

The crew gathers around, voices overlapping "We missed you!", "About time, huh!", "Captain, you look alive!"

Law lets Bepo cling, a small smile tugging at his lips. His golden eyes sweep over his crew one by one.

Then they land on you.

You don’t rush forward. You don’t cry or shout. You just stand at the back, arms loose at your sides, face carefully blank. But your chest feels like it’s about to burst.

Law’s eyes linger on you longer than they should. The noise of the crew fades, and for a second it’s just silence, with his unreadable stare and your unreadable mask.

You want to smile. You want to run to him like the others.

Instead, you lower your eyes.

Because if you let everything show, he’d see too much. He might see the truth you’ve buried, the secrets you’ve kept from all of them and the feelings you can’t control anymore.

But when you look up again, his gaze is still locked on you.

Law’s eyes don’t leave yours. The crew cheers and laughs, but you only nod at him, quick, sharp, just enough to say I’m fine.

And then you turn away.

You walk until you’re deep in the woods, where no one follows. You press your back to a tree, slide down, and cover your chest with your hand.

Your heart is beating so fast it hurts.

"Idiot," you whisper to yourself "Why now? Why?"

You stay there until the storm inside you calms, then force yourself back. Your smile is gone, but you try to act normal.

The crew notices right away.

"Oi, Y/N, what’s with you?" Shachi asks "You left so fast."

"Yeah," Penguin adds, frowning "You don’t look happy at all. Shouldn’t you be overjoyed the captain’s back?"

Bepo tilts his head "Are you feeling sick?"

You shake your head, forcing a laugh "I’m fine."

But it’s weak. Everyone can tell.

And then someone jokes, too sharp, too true "What, you’re not happy to see your loved one?"

You stop walking.

The crew looks at you, confused "Oi, Y/N?"

But your face is frozen in horror.

Because standing just ahead, at the edge of the firelight, are Kinemon, Kiku, Raizo, and Kanjuro. And they are staring at you with the exact same expression.

The air goes cold. Silence falls.

Nami sets down her bowl, eyes darting between you and them "…What’s happening?"

Usopp swallows loudly "Why do they look like they’ve seen a ghost?"

Zoro’s hand drifts toward his swords, his one eye narrowing.

The Heart Pirates shift uneasily. Shachi and Penguin step closer to you, protective without even thinking.

Kinemon is the first to move. He steps into the firelight, hands on his katana. His voice cuts like a blade "It's you..."

Law’s brow furrows. He rises to his feet slowly, standing tall "You know her?"

Kin’emon’s glare doesn’t waver "Know her? How could I not? She is no ordinary woman. She is the blood of the Beast. The daughter of Kaido."

The words crash into the clearing like thunder.

"What?!" Usopp yelps, nearly dropping his bowl.

Chopper squeaks, eyes wide, "D-Daughter of Kaido?!"

Nami gasps, hands flying to her mouth.

Even Luffy stops chewing, staring blankly "…Kaido?"

Penguin shakes his head hard "No, that’s impossible!"

Shachi growls "You’re lying! Don’t you dare throw that name at her!"

Bepo steps forward, ears flat, teeth bared "She’s not Kaido’s anything. She’s one of us."

Kinemon’s voice rises, sharp and angry "Fools. You don’t know who you’ve sheltered all this time. Remove her patch, and you will see the truth written in her eye."

All eyes snap to you.

Your body goes stiff. Your hand shoots up, covering the black bandage wrapped around your left eye.

"No…" you whisper.

Penguin takes a step toward you, voice trembling "Y/N… show them it’s not true."

"Yeah," Shachi presses, desperate "Say something! Say he’s wrong!"

Your throat closes. No words come out.

Law steps forward slowly, putting himself between you and Kinemon. His voice is calm, but his golden eyes burn "She’s my crew. That’s all that matters."

Kinemon’s glare sharpens "You’ve hidden Kaido's bloodline aboard your ship…"

The clearing holds its breath.

Finally, Law turns his head, his gaze locking on you. His voice drops low, quiet, almost unreadable "…Y/N. Is it true?"

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. You can only shake your head wildly, tears threatening to spill "No—please—don’t listen to them."

Kinemon steps forward, blade half-drawn "Then let him look. Let Trafalgar Law look beneath the bandage."

The Strawhats watch, tense and silent. Zoro’s hand rests on his swords. Nami’s knuckles are white around her cup. Luffy frowns deeply, unusually quiet.

Law doesn’t move at first. His eyes stay locked on yours. Then, slowly, his hand rises.

You stagger back, shaking your head violently "No. Please. Don’t, Law. Believe me. Please just—believe me."

But his hand is still reaching.

The firelight flickers between you, the truth pressing down heavy as stone.

And for the first time since you joined the Heart Pirates, you feel everything crumbling.

The fire crackles, loud in the silence.

Law’s hand lifts, fingertips brushing against the bandage on your face. Your breath catches.

The world holds still.

But then… he stops. His eyes lock on your again, trembling, and instead of pulling, he drops his hand.

He steps back, turning toward the stunned group. His voice is calm, firm, unshaken "She’s been in my crew for years. I don’t care what her past is."

The words drop like a stone.

The Heart Pirates stare at him, wide-eyed. The Strawhats glance between you all, unsure. The samurai bristle with rage.

And then, from behind Kinemon, a small voice cuts through the tension.

Momonosuke steps forward, fists shaking but his chin held high. His voice cracks, but he forces it out anyway "She lied to you all this time and you don’t care? She’s the daughter of the man who killed my family and took over our home!"

Gasps ripple through the group.

Law glances back at you, then turns to the boy. His face is unreadable, his voice even "If she left and lied, then there must be reasons."

The words hit you harder than any sword could.

Your throat tightens. You can’t hold it anymore. You lower your head, whispering so softly that only he can hear "I’m sorry."

His eyes flicker, but he says nothing.

The samurai don’t stop.

Kinemon steps forward, fury in every movement "Don’t let her fool you! She carries Kaido’s blood. She is Kaido’s daughter!"

The title sears through you.

You stumble back, shaking your head "No… no… I’m not—"

But their eyes burn holes through you. Everyone’s eyes. The firelight feels like it’s exposing every secret you buried.

And you can’t breathe.

So you run.

You turn on your heel and bolt into the trees, branches whipping against your arms.

No one stops you.

The Heart Pirates are too stunned. The Strawhats too shocked. The samurai too bitter.

All except one.

There’s a flash of blue light and suddenly, he’s there in front of you, stopping your run in the middle of the forest.

Law.

You crash right into him, your breath knocked out. You try to step back, to spin and run again, but you can’t.

Because his arms are around you.

He’s holding you tight, firm, unshakable.

You hit his chest weakly with your fists "Let me go!"

But your body betrays you. The fight drains out. Tears blur your vision.

"I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…" you whisper, again and again, voice breaking with each word.

Law doesn’t answer. He just holds you.

Then he lets go and your knees give out, the strength leaving you all at once. You collapse to the ground, trembling, broken, the words spilling from your lips in sobs.

"I’m sorry…"

The night swallows the sound.

And for the first time since you joined the crew, you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to stand back up.

Law stands over you, his shadow tall, his voice low but sharp.

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

You flinch.

His eyes cut into you, demanding answers "You’ve been with me for years, Y/N. You had time. So why keep this a secret?"

You shake your head, tears slipping free "Because… this is exactly what I was afraid of."

His brow furrows.

"I didn’t want you, or anyone, to see me as her. As Kaido’s daughter. I wanted you to see me as… just me. As Y/N. Not his blood. Not his shadow."

Your voice cracks, louder now, trembling "I wasn’t as brave as my brother or as the samurai. I was never brave enough to fight him. I stood by him like a coward, because I was too afraid. And when I finally saw a chance… I ran."

The silence after your words is heavy. Law doesn’t speak, he just stares, unreadable.

Slowly, with trembling hands, you reach for the bandage and peel it away.

The firelight from the clearing glints off your left eye… golden, sharp, unmistakable. A mark of Kaido’s bloodline.

You grip at it with shaking fingers, nails almost digging into your skin "I hate it… I hate this eye. It’s the eye of someone I don’t want to be. His eye. Not mine."

Law’s gaze doesn’t waver. He doesn’t flinch.

You finally look up at him, broken, desperate "Can you understand now? Why I lied? Why I never told you?"

The words pour out faster, your chest heaving "But being… with you, with Bepo, with Shachi, Penguin… with all of you, I finally… I finally felt like I was alive. Like I wasn’t chained to him anymore. You gave me that, Law. All of you did."

The night you told yourself you wouldn’t run anymore, you also knew you couldn’t stay.

Not with them. Not when facing Kaido was the only way forward.

So you run again and this time Law doesn’t stop you. And then you disappear without a word. No note. No goodbye.

You return to Wano not as the girl who laughed too loud on the Polar Tang, but as Kaido’s daughter, the role you always hated, but now wear like armor.

Days later.

The streets of the Flower Capital are crowded. Drums beat somewhere in the distance, children run barefoot through the dust, and the smell of cheap dango fills the air.

You walk down the main road with soldiers at your side. Subordinates, Kaido’s men. Their eyes on you, you know they’re all testing you, even Kaido is.

"That hag was whispering about the great Kaido-sama." one sneers, pointing at a trembling old woman behind a market stall "Shall we take her tongue?"

The crowd shifts uneasily. The woman shakes her head, stammering "N-no, I said nothing—"

You lift your hand. Silence falls.

Then, coldly, you give the order "Demolish the stall."

The soldiers grin and move at once, overturning crates of vegetables, snapping wooden planks, scattering the old woman’s things across the dirt. She cries out, falling to her knees.

Gasps ripple through the street. Parents drag children away. Nobody dares intervene.

But from a distance, hidden in the shadows of a narrow street, Law watches.

Shachi bristles beside him "Tch—Captain, we can’t just stand here! That’s Y/N, isn’t it? She’s letting them bully an old woman!"

Penguin’s fists clench "We should stop this—"

"Wait."

Law’s voice cuts through their anger. His eyes don’t leave you.

Because just as the soldiers jeer and scatter, you crouch down beside the old woman.

Your voice drops so only she can hear "I’m sorry."

She stares at you, wide-eyed, too stunned to speak.

Quickly, discreetly, you slip a pouch of coins into her pocket and close her fingers around it.

"Stay quiet. Endure. Just a little longer." you whisper.

And then you rise again, face unreadable, mask back in place before any soldier notices "We move."

The subordinates cheer as if you’d done something cruel. The crowd cowers. And you walk on, every step heavier than iron.

From the shadows, Law doesn’t move. His men still fume, whispering questions, confusion burning in their voices.

But Law just watches your back as you disappear down the street. His jaw tightens, and for the first time in years… he can’t tell what you’re thinking.

The next day you have to go monitor the streets again and so you keep walking, soldiers trailing close behind, pretending not to care.

But then you stop.

Right in front of you, there’s a little stall. Colorful masks, odd trinkets, cheap charms. And behind it, a very familiar long nose.

Your heart almost drops.

Usopp.

You blink, frozen. He looks up and nearly chokes on his spit when your eyes meet.

"Y-y-you—!" He stutters, grabbing at the counter like it’ll protect him "What are you—Kaido’s—why are you—?!"

"Quiet." you hiss quickly.

Your soldiers glance your way. You wave them off with a lazy hand, voice cold "I’ll check this stall myself. You guys check over there."

They obey at once, stepping back. You crouch down by the counter, leaning in.

"What are you doing here?" you whisper, eyes sharp but pleading.

He gulps, still shaking. Then he lowers his voice "We’re… we’re waiting. For Luffy. He’s getting Sanji back from Big Mom. When they come, we’ll all move."

Your chest tightens. You glance at the ground, then back at him "The Heart Pirates. Are they here too?"

Usopp studies you, nervous "Yeah. They’re hiding out around the northern port."

Your throat feels dry. Still, you push the words out "Can you… tell me exactly where Law is?"

He blinks "I—I can’t."

Your eyes harden, but your voice betrays you, softer than you mean it to be "Please."

For a long moment, Usopp hesitates. Then, sighing, he digs under the counter, pulls out a scrap of paper, and starts sketching a crude map with charcoal. His hand trembles, but the lines are clear enough.

When he pushes it toward you, his gaze meets yours "Don’t make me regret this."

You tuck the map into your sleeve, then stand tall again, slipping your mask of authority back on. Soldiers glance your way, and you bark, "We’re leaving."

That night, when the capital sleeps, you slip out in silence. No guards. No eyes. Just the map in your hand and your heart beating like thunder.

Every step brings you closer. To him.

The shack is warm with lantern light when you step in. Voices fall silent.

Penguin’s jaw drops "Y/N…?"

Shachi pushes up from his chair, eyes wide "You—dammit, do you have any idea what you put us through?!"

Bepo jumps to his feet next, tears shining in his eyes as he blurts, "We thought we lost you!"

Your chest aches at their voices, at the way they look at you. anger, relief, pain all twisted together.

And then you hear Law "Enough."

He sits at the back, arms crossed, eyes shadowed. The crew quiets instantly.

You take a step forward "Law…"

Slowly, he stands. Everyone falls quiet, waiting.

"You left." he says, flat and low.

Your heart clenches. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze "So did you."

For a second, his expression cracks. His lips press into a thin line, and he doesn’t answer.

Penguin mutters, "She’s got you there, Captain."

Law ignores him, his attention locked on you "Why?"

You swallow "Because if you knew who I was, if you saw me as Kaido’s daughter… you’d never see me as Y/N. As part of the crew. And I—" Your voice falters "I couldn’t stand that."

Shachi exhales hard, anger fading into something tired "Idiot. We already saw you as Y/N."

Penguin shakes his head, softer now "Doesn’t matter who your blood is. You’re one of us."

Bepo steps closer, eyes glistening "We’re family, Y/N."

The words nearly break you.

You turn back to Law. He hasn’t moved, but his eyes flick briefly to your eye that is now fully exposed "That’s what you’ve been hiding."

Your voice drops "I hate it. I hate that it ties me to him. But it’s mine, too. And I won’t keep running from it."

For a long moment, Law just studies you. Cold, unreadable, but something softer buried in the way his gaze lingers.

Finally, he speaks, quiet enough that only you hear "You should’ve trusted us." A beat passes "But… you came back."

You choke back a sob "I’m sorry."

There’s a shuffle, then Shachi claps his hands together loudly "Okay, enough heavy stuff. Let’s… let’s give them some space."

Penguin elbows him, muttering, "You just don’t wanna cry in front of them."

Bepo nods solemnly "She should talk with the captain. Alone."

Law shoots them a sharp glare, but doesn’t stop them as they file out one by one.

The door shuts. Silence settles.

It’s just you and him now. Law moves first, crossing the room to a low table. He sits, gestures faintly at the cushion beside him "Sit."

You hesitate, then obey. He pours two small cups from a bottle of sake, sliding one toward you. The porcelain feels too light in your hands, and you stare at the pale liquid instead of drinking.

Silence stretches. He doesn’t look at you when he finally speaks.

"I know I don’t have the right to be angry you left." His voice is steady, clipped "I did the same."

Your head lifts, surprised.

He exhales, fingers drumming once against his own cup before he stills them "But… I hoped you’d be stronger than me."

The words hang there, confusing, sharp. You frown "Stronger than you?"

Law’s jaw tightens. He keeps his gaze fixed on the table, not you "That night. When we talked… I almost told you something." His fingers curl slightly around the cup "But… saying things like that isn’t easy for me."

Your breath hitches. He doesn’t notice or he pretends not to.

"My plan for Dressrosa included death." he continues, quiet but firm "My death. I thought… you didn’t deserve to carry that weight. So I kept it to myself. I just walked away." He finally lifts his eyes, meeting yours, steady and unflinching "I thought if someone had to hurt, it should be me."

The ache in your chest twists deeper.

"But watching you disappear to face Kaido alone…" He trails off, staring down at his drink as if it can anchor him "It made me realize how wrong I was. Keeping quiet didn’t stop anyone from hurting. It just… made it worse."

You whisper his name, but he doesn’t let you interrupt.

"I have a lot of regrets, Y/N." His voice drops, rough around the edges. Then, after a beat "But not you. Not having you in my crew. Not… what I feel."

The air between you feels different now… thick, trembling, alive.

You can’t breathe. He’s not looking at you, but the words sink in, settle like fire in your chest.

Your hands tighten around the little cup. The words in your chest feel too heavy, but if you don’t say them now, you’ll never forgive yourself.

"I know it’s not your style," you begin softly, eyes on him, "to say things like this. But… I’m glad you did. Now."

Law’s gaze flickers, unreadable.

You swallow hard, cheeks warming "Because… I like you. A lot. Not just as a captain. I mean—yes, that too—but…" your words tangle, spilling out clumsy and rushed, "but as you. As Law. As a man."

For a second, silence. His lips twitch, then, unexpectedly, a soft laugh escapes him. Quiet, rough, but real.

Your eyes widen. You’ve never heard him laugh like that before. It startles you so much you almost forget to breathe.

Before you can overthink, you reach out and slip your hand into his.

He freezes. The laughter fades, his expression stunned, like he never imagined you’d dare to touch him so simply, but you just beam at him, eyes squeezed shut with that smile that always reaches them.

And in that instant, something shifts in him. His chest tightens, heartbeat tripping over itself.

You squeeze his hand gently, your voice steady this time "No more secrets, okay?"

Law doesn’t answer right away. His thumb twitches slightly against your hand, almost uncertain. Then, after a long pause, he exhales.

"…Okay."

The silence stretches, warm but heavy, until you shift uncomfortably and set the empty cup down.

"I should leave," you whisper "I should go back before they notice I’m gone."

Law’s eyes flick to you immediately.

"Why?" His tone is calm, but there’s an edge beneath it "Just stay here at this point. You don’t have to go back there. You don’t have to prove anything to us, Y/N."

Your throat tightens. You shake your head "No… it’s not about proving anything. I can still get information. Things that could help your mission, Luffy’s too."

His jaw tightens "It’s too risky. You’ve done enough. It’s going to be fine even if you stay out of it."

But you meet his eyes, firm "I need this, Law. Not just for the crew, but… for me. For closure. With Kaido."

He goes quiet, watching you like he’s weighing whether to argue again, but he doesn’t, and his gaze softens slightly, and somehow that’s worse than his scolding.

You stand, heart racing, trying to convince yourself to turn away, but something gnaws at you, something you can’t leave unsaid. You stop halfway to the door, turning back to him with a conflicted look.

"We said no more secrets, right?"

He nods once.

You take a shaky breath "Then… I should tell you. I really want to kiss you. Can I?"

Law freezes. His eyes widen, the air between you snapping taut. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t move, just stares at you like you’ve short-circuited his brain.

The silence eats at you, panic bubbling up.

You wave your hands quickly "Ah, forget I said that. That was dumb. Sorry. I’m leaving now, I’ll get the infos and I’ll give them to you when—"

"You can."

Your words choke off. You blink at him, stunned "…Really? For real?"

Law exhales slowly, almost like he regrets letting it slip, but then he pushes himself to his feet and steps closer. No hesitation this time.

Before you can overthink, his hand ghosts against your jaw and his lips press to yours. It’s brief, a little clumsy, but firm. Real.

When he pulls back, his hand lingers just a second longer before dropping. His voice is low, rough, like he’s forcing it out.

"…Please. Stay safe."

Your heart feels like it could break free from your chest.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying to hold onto the feel of his lips against yours. Then you manage a smile, not your usual too-loud, too-bright grin, but a soft one, small and honest.

"Don’t worry, Law," you whisper, voice steady for once "I’ll be fine. I promise."

He studies your face like he wants to argue again, but something in your smile stops him. He just nods, slow, silent.

You take a deep breath, reach for the door, and push it open, when three bodies tumble forward at your feet: Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo, all piled together in a heap, groaning.

"Ow!"

"Idiot, you leaned too hard!"

"You were the one pushing!!"

 Bepo whines, "I told you this was a bad idea…"

Your eyes widen as heat rushes to your face. They scramble to untangle themselves, each throwing out excuses that sound worse than the last.

"We were just—uh—guard duty!"

 "Yeah! Guard duty, super serious!"

 Bepo, deadpan "We were listening."

"BEPO!!" Shachi and Penguin yell in unison, smacking him.

You cover your face with your hands, your cheeks burning hot enough to catch fire.

"You idiots!!" you squeak, before bolting past them, practically running away, your heart racing faster than ever.

Behind you, the crew’s voices echo "I told you she’d confess first!"

"No way, it totally sounded like the captain kissed her!"

"Shut up, both of you!"

Law’s sigh, sharp and weary, cuts through it all, and you can’t stop smiling.

For nights, it becomes a rhythm.

You slip out under the cover of darkness, cross the streets of Wano with careful steps, and find him waiting. Sometimes it’s just a glance at each other before trading information. Sometimes you stay longer, sharing whispers and soft touches until the world fades. And every time, when you leave, you feel stronger. Lighter.

Until tonight.

You’re halfway back to your room when shadows move in front of you. Two of your father’s men step out from the dark, smirks sharp, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

"Out late again, princess?" one sneers, crossing his arms.

The other leans close enough for you to smell the sake on his breath "You think no one noticed your little nightly walks?"

Your heart slams against your ribs. You force a cold glare "Move."

They laugh "Or what? You’ll go cry to daddy?"

The word daddy makes your stomach twist. You grip your fists so tight your nails dig into your palms.

"You wouldn’t want Kaido to know where you’ve been sneaking off to," the first says, tilting his head "Imagine his face if he learned his precious daughter was meeting… outsiders."

Your chest freezes.

"You won’t." you snap, but your voice is too thin, too desperate.

"Oh, we will. Unless…"

The other one grins, teeth sharp "Unless you do something for us."

You narrow your eyes "What?"

"There’s a shipment, heavily guarded, moving in two days. Something only Kaido’s daughter could get close to. We want you to… misplace it. Just a little. An accident. No one has to know."

You stare at them, fury boiling inside you, but the blade of their threat presses too close. If they tell Kaido about Law, about the crew, everything’s over.

You clench your jaw "Fine."

"Good girl." one says, patting your shoulder before they vanish back into the dark.

You stand there alone, breathing hard, your chest heavy with a single thought…

You promised him no more secrets.

Two nights later, Law’s waiting, arms crossed, amber eyes sharp as you step into the clearing.

"You skipped last night." he says, tone flat.

You force a smile, holding up the paper with fresh intel "I had… trouble. It’s fine now."

He doesn’t take it. His gaze doesn’t leave your face "You’re lying."

The words cut straight through you. Your stomach drops.

You look away, clutching the paper tighter "It’s nothing important."

"Y/N." His voice is low, edged with warning. He takes a step closer, searching your expression, trying to read what you won’t say.

Your throat tightens. The memory of your promise no more secrets, burns inside you. You want to tell him. Gods, you want to. But if you do… he’ll stop you. He’ll stop everything. And he’ll worry.

So you force your voice steady "I’m fine."

For a moment, you think he’ll push. His brows knit together, his jaw tense. But then he exhales, sharp and frustrated, and looks away.

"Fine." he mutters.

The silence between you feels heavier than ever.

You turn and leave before your face crumbles, before he sees the truth written in your eyes. Each step back to your room feels like betrayal.

And for the first time, the lie hurts worse than the fear of Kaido.

You did it.

You slipped into the shipment unnoticed, just as your subordinates demanded. The crates were smashed, the contents “misplaced”, and you walked away with shaking hands, your stomach churning with disgust.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because the very next day, Kaido’s men dragged you into the main hall, the floor cold against your knees as you were forced down before him.

Kaido’s eyes bore into you, sharp and unyielding.

“They tell me,” he growled, “you’ve been sneaking around with Trafalgar Law. That you’ve been feeding him scraps of information like a traitor.”

Your blood froze. They know more…?

You tried to steady your voice “They’re lying.”

Kaido leaned forward on his throne, shadow swallowing your form “Are they? Then explain why my shipment was destroyed under your watch.”

“They forced me!” you blurt, whipping around to glare at your so-called subordinates “They threatened me if I didn’t—!”

The men smirked, feigning offense “She’s desperate, Kaido-sama. Making excuses. She betrayed you, just like before.”

Your chest tightened, panic clawing at your throat “I didn’t—!”

“Enough.” Kaido’s voice rumbled through the hall, final and merciless “You disappeared for years, came crawling back, and now you cause me nothing but trouble.”

“Father!”

“Lock her up.”

Guards grabbed your arms, wrenching you to your feet. You fought against their grip, your voice breaking “You’re wrong! They’re lying to you! I didn’t betray you!”

Kaido’s gaze was cold as stone “I won’t waste my men chasing down a worthless pirate doctor. I have way bigger things to prepare. You are nothing but a distraction.”

The word worthless stabbed through you sharper than any blade.

Your voice cracked into a hiss as they dragged you away “He’s not worthless!”

But your words echoed into silence, swallowed by the walls as the iron bars closed on you.

The first night, Law waits.

Sitting in the shadows of the clearing, arms crossed, his crew nearby. They whisper among themselves.

“She’s late.” Shachi mutters. Penguin frowns “Maybe she isn’t coming today.” Bepo’s ears droop “…Something’s wrong.”

Law says nothing, though his jaw clenches tighter with every passing second.

The second night, he’s already there before the others. And when you still don’t come, his crew exchange worried glances.

By the third day, when you don’t appear for your usual “guard rounds” in the market, panic settles in.

“She wouldn’t just stop like this.” Penguin insists.

“Is she okay?” Bepo adds, voice quiet.

Law stays silent, but the storm in his eyes says everything.

And then, as if fate chose its timing, Luffy and Zoro unleash chaos in town.

Undercover is no longer an option.

Law pulls his hood over his head, sharp gaze flicking toward the chaos. “Good. Let them make noise. Just in time. Our mission changes.”

Law’s hand grips Kikoku’s handle, knuckles white “She’s our main mission.”

Meanwhile, in your cage, the days blur together. Your wrists ache from pulling at the bars, your throat dry from shouting until no sound comes.

And then, light. The sound of chains rattling.

“Y/N.”

You look up to see Yamato kneeling by your cage, arms full of food and water.

“Brother…” Your voice cracks, relief flooding you.

“Keep your voice down,” Yamato hisses, sliding the tray through the gap “I’ve been sneaking food here. If they catch me—”

“They’ll kill you.”

“Better me than you.” His expression hardens, fire in his eyes “I’ve tried everything, but these bars… they’re sealed. I can’t break them.”

You swallow hard, tears pricking your eyes “I don’t… I don’t know how much longer I can stay here.”

Yamato grips the bars, leaning close “Don’t worry. Because I’m not leaving you. And someone is coming for you. I can feel it.”

Your chest tightens, his words burning into you. You want to believe him. You want to believe Law.

You press your forehead to the cold iron, whispering the only thing you can “…Please.”

The war has already begun. Onigashima shakes with the sound of clashing steel, roars of Beast Pirates, explosions from Straw Hat chaos. Smoke and fire eat through the air as the battle spreads like wildfire.

Law is in the thick of it, appearing and disappearing across the battlefield in blurs of Shambles, cutting down enemies, supporting allies, already stretched thin by the madness around him.

But he’s not fighting like usual. His eyes keep darting toward the castle, his movements sharper, more frantic.

“Captain,” Penguin pants, catching up, blood on his cheek “You’re distracted—”

“I’m fine.” Law cuts, voice harder than Kikoku’s edge, but his crew exchange looks because they know why.

“TRAFALGAR LAW!!”

The shout cuts through the chaos like thunder. Everyone pauses, heads snapping toward the towering figure charging straight at them.

Bepo bristles, ready to defend. Shachi and Penguin tense.

But instead of attacking, the massive figure skids to a stop before Law, eyes wild and focused.

“You’re Law, right?” Yamato demands, scanning him head to toe. He tilts his head, frowning as if making a judgment “Huh. You’re… smaller than I expected.”

Law’s brow twitches “...And you are?”

“Yamato. Kaido’s son.”

The crew tense immediately, hands on weapons.

Law narrows his eyes, Kikoku half-drawn “Then we’re… enemies?”

But Yamato waves his hands frantically “Wait, wait, I’m not with him! I’m not with Kaido—I’m against him! Just listen!” His voice softens, desperate “I don’t have time to explain everything but, are you… the man my sister keeps talking about?”

Law stiffens “...Your sister?”

Yamato scans him again, eyes narrowing “…You’re not that impressive. She really has weird taste.”

Shachi sputters, choking on air “W-what—?!”

Penguin almost laughs. Bepo tilts his head.

Law’s jaw tightens, a faint red at his ears “…Get to the point.”

Yamato leans in, urgency blazing “She’s locked up. In the east tower, sealed cages Kaido had made years ago. He found out about her meeting you.” He grits his teeth “She kept talking about you and told me you could help.”

The words freeze Law in place “…What?”

“You need to go to her.” Yamato insists, gripping his shoulder “Now. There’s chaos everywhere, this is the only chance you’ll get to slip past the guards. I’ll help you.”

Law’s heart pounds, though his face remains hard as stone. He doesn’t answer immediately, doesn’t trust himself to.

Penguin finally speaks up, urgent “Captain. If she’s really—”

“I know.” Law snaps, already moving. His hand clenches around Kikoku, his other around his nodachi’s sheath. His voice is low, cold, but beneath it burns fire “Take me to her.”

The battlefield is madness. The Strawhats cause chaos in every direction, Luffy’s laugh echoes like a battle drum somewhere above, Zoro’s blades glint through the smoke, Kid and Killer carve a path of their own.

But Law isn’t looking at any of that. His focus is razor-sharp, locked only on Yamato.

“East tower,” Yamato growls, pointing through the smoke and fire “That’s where Kaido has her locked up. He prepared those cages to keep people like me from escaping. Strong, reinforced. I tried to break them myself but… I couldn’t.”

Bepo bares his teeth “Then we’ll rip it apart together.”

“Quiet.” Law orders. His tone is cold, but his grip on Kikoku is too tight, the veins in his hand standing out “We don’t draw attention.”

Yamato nods “Fine. Follow me.”

They move fast through the corridors of Onigashima, Yamato clearing the way with brutal swings of his kanabo. Every time a Beast Pirate falls, Law Shambles them further down the hall, clearing their path. Shachi and Penguin watch each other, grim but determined, as if silently agreeing they’ll make sure Law gets through this alive.

At one point, a squad blocks their path, armed and loud. Yamato lifts his club, ready to swing, but Law steps past him.

“Room.”

The air distorts, blue light expanding in a sphere. With a flick of his hand, weapons vanish from their enemies’ grips, replaced with rubble from the broken walls. Another flick, and the pirates collapse, gasping, unconscious.

Yamato blinks “…Okay. You’re cooler than I thought.”

Law ignores him, voice flat “Keep moving.”

Finally, they reach the east tower. It’s quieter here, the battle hasn’t spilled into these halls yet. The air is damp, heavy, filled with the stench of old iron and mold.

Yamato leads them down a long staircase, his footsteps heavy. His voice is lower now, softer “She tried to hide it from me at first… but I could tell. The way she talked about you. The way her eyes lit up, even when everything was hopeless. I’ve never seen her like that, not once. Even if it’s been a lot since I last saw her…” He glances at Law “Don’t let her break more than she already has.”

Law says nothing, but his jaw clenches.

At the bottom of the stairs, the prison cells stretch in rows. Guards are slumped unconscious, Yamato’s work from earlier. And at the very end, in a reinforced cage of sea-stone and iron.

There you are.

Your knees pulled to your chest, head resting on them. Clothes torn from struggling, your face pale in the torchlight. You don’t stir at their footsteps, too exhausted, or too hopeless, to notice.

“…Y/N.”

Your head lifts slowly, sluggishly, as if you’d dreamed his voice and don’t believe it. Your eyes widen, blinking against the light “...Law?”

He’s already moving, faster than his usual measured pace, Kikoku clattering against his side as he kneels before the bars. The crew hangs back, giving space. Yamato stands like a sentinel, arms crossed, as if guarding the moment.

You crawl closer, weak but desperate, pressing your hands against the cold iron. Tears blur your vision “…You… why are you here—”

“Idiot.” His voice cracks sharper than Kikoku’s blade, but his hands cover yours through the bars, firm and trembling “What the hell do you think? You think I’d let you stay here?”

Your lips tremble “But… Kaido—”

“Forget Kaido.” His eyes burn into yours, raw and fierce “I don’t give a damn. We were here to defeat him anyway.” His voice falters, his grip tightening.

For the first time in forever, Law looks almost broken in front of you.

You choke on a sob, pressing harder against his hands “I’m sorry. I lied… I broke our promise, I—”

“Stop.” His tone is sharp, but not cold, more like he’s cutting the guilt away himself “We’ll deal with that later. Right now, I’m getting you out.”

He stands, hand raised, energy crackling “Room.”

The space distorts, and with a sharp motion the cage shatters apart, iron bars warping away in a blur of blue light. He teleports you outside, catching you as your legs give out.

You collapse into him, trembling, your face buried in his chest. For once, he doesn’t hesitate, his arms wrap around you, firm and steady, holding you up.

“…Thank you.” you whisper against him, voice shaking but teasing through the tears.

And for the briefest second, just for you, Law lets out the smallest, softest smile “Shut up.”

Law says, eyes steady on yours “I’ll join the rooftop fight now. You stay with Bepo and them.”

You nod “Be careful.”

He squeezes your shoulder once “You too.”

Then he vanishes in blue light.

Bepo tucks a blanket around you “Please stay, Y/N.”

“I will.” you lie.

You close your eyes. You count to ten. Then you stand.

“Y/N!” Penguin hisses.

“I’ll only look.” you whisper “I won’t fight. I just… I need to make sure he’s okay.”

They stare, worried, but the battle shakes the walls. You slip into the dark.

You climb broken stairs and crawl behind a torn wall on the rooftop. Wind whips your hair. The sky is black with smoke. It took you a while to arrive and so you see Luffy, Zoro, Kid, Killer  and Law stand in a rough line, panting.

Big Mom laughs on her cloud “Maamaamaa! Done already?”

Kaido twirls his kanabo “Fall.”

He swings. The shockwave rips tiles free.

You press yourself into the shadow, heart pounding.

Don’t move. Don’t be a burden. Just watch. Just breathe.

Kaido lifts the kanabo again, muscles bunching.

“Stop..” you breathe… too soft for anyone to hear.

He steps forward to finish his attack.

“KAIDO!”

Your voice cuts the air. He turns his head and you move fast.

You sprint from the shadow and drive your blade into his back, right below the shoulder.

Steel bites. Not deep. But enough.

“Tch.” Kaido’s face twitches. He turns, slow, angry.

“Now!” Kid barks.

Luffy roars, “Gomu Gomu no!” Zoro and Killer slash in at once.

“Room.” Law appears in a blink, grabs your arm, and Shambles you to his side.

He faces you, eyes sharp and scared at the same time “The hell are you doing here?! I told you to stay put.”

You don’t look at him. Your whole body shakes, but not from fear. From rage. You stare at Kaido like you could burn a hole through him.

Big Mom grins “Oho? The little princess shows up.”

Kaido’s lips curl “So the rat leaves her cage to squeak.”

You finally breathe out, never taking your eyes off him “Hey, Law… I’ve got one last secret.”

Law’s jaw tightens “Y/N…”

You don’t explain. You show.

Your dragon eye starts to release gold burns to electric blue lightning, from your iris like a storm breaking glass. The air hums. Your hair lifts.

A shape rises behind you, half wind, half lightning. A long, spectral dragon coils over your shoulders, its mane a storm, its claws made of light. It opens its mouth and the sky rumbles with it.

Luffy’s eyes shine “WHOA! That’s awesome!”

Zoro squints “So this is why the samurai freaked out…”

Kid smirks “Now we’re talking.”

Killer laughs under his mask.

Law doesn’t move. His voice drops, tight “What did he do to you?”

Your throat is dry, but your answer is steady “He forced an artificial fruit on me. Unlike Momonosuke I’m not a full dragon. More like a dragon spirit. Lightning and wind.”

Kaido snorts “A failed model.”

Your glare cuts him “No. A curse you gave me.” You step forward, the spirit moving with you “And I’m using it to end you.”

The dragon snaps its jaws. A bolt of blue lightning slams Kaido’s chest. He skids half a step, surprised, not hurt, but it’s enough to break his rhythm.

“Move!” Law barks “Luffy, Kid—press!”

“Got it!” Luffy rockets in.

Kid’s metal twists back together “Magnet punk—load!”

Zoro shoulder-checks beside you “Don’t overdo it.” he mutters.

You nod once, eyes never leaving Kaido. The spirit wraps your arms with spectral claws flare over your hands. You lash out, wind and lightning slice the air, forcing Kaido to guard for the first time all night.

Big Mom cackles “Maamaamaa! Look at you spark! Show me more!”

“Stay back.” Law snaps at her, then to you, lower “Y/N. Your body.”

You feel the cost. Nerves screaming, muscles shaking, the fruit eating at your strength. You grit your teeth.

“I can hold more.” you say.

Kaido grins wide “Then hold this… daughter.” He inhales Boro Breath building hot and bright.

“NOW!” you shout. The spirit rears up, and you unleash a Dragon’s Roar, a shockwave of thunder that slams into his jaw and kicks the flame upward. The blast fires high, not forward, tearing the clouds instead of your friends.

“Thanks!” Luffy laughs, rubber feet skidding as he charges “Gear—!”

“Room.” Law expands space, swapping Luffy into perfect range.

Zoro and Killer crash in off the opening. Kid hurls metal like a comet.

Kaido staggers, teeth bared.

You sway. The lightning around your eye flickers.

Law catches your elbow before you fall “That’s enough.”

You don’t answer him. You lift your head and stare at Kaido like you’ll never blink again “I’m not your daughter.”

His gaze hardens “Blood is blood.”

“Then watch what mine chooses.” You drag in air. The spirit coils tight, then spears forward as a bolt that shatters the tiles at Kaido’s feet, forcing him to step back… right into Luffy’s punch.

“Gomu Gomu no… Elephant Gun!”

Kaido slides, boots carving lines in the stone.

Big Mom snarls “Brats.”

Law keeps you upright, voice a rough whisper only you hear “Stay alive.”

You nod, breath ragged “You too, Captain.”

He almost smiles “Tch.”

Kaido rolls his shoulders, eyes locked on you now, amused and angry “So the little storm finally bites.”

You lift your chin, lightning still dancing across your skin “I’m not done.”

Law squeezes your hand once, quick and hidden. Then, louder “Formation! I’ll set the openings. Luffy, Kid, take them. Swordsmen, cover.”

You plant your feet beside him, the dragon spirit hissing above your head like thunder ready to break.

“No more secrets.” you whisper.

“Good,” he says, eyes cutting to Kaido “Then let’s finish this.”

The storm answers for you both.

The war is over.

Kaido and Big Mom are gone, the Beast Pirates scattered. Wano is finally free.

For the first time in forever, the country is alive with colour, lanterns lighting every street, kites fluttering above the Flower Capital, laughter spilling out of every door. Music, drums, shamisen… all of it weaving into a celebration that feels endless.

Children run with sparklers. Old samurai drink sake with teary eyes. Food stalls overflow with skewers, dango, and steaming ramen bowls.

You stand on a bridge, a yukata tied loosely around your shoulders, watching lanterns drift into the sky. The reflection of their golden glow dances across the river, like tiny suns floating away.

Law finds you there. Of course he does.

“You should be resting.” His voice is the same as ever, flat and scolding, but softer now.

You glance at him, smiling “Says the one who hasn’t slept in days.”

He doesn’t deny it. Just moves to stand beside you, hands in his pockets. His yukata is dark, plain, but somehow it makes him stand out more than anyone else. The lantern light flickers in his eyes.

For a moment, you two just… exist. No secrets, no cages, no war.

Then you say, “Wano looks different like this.”

“Mm.” He follows your gaze over the festival “Almost peaceful.”

You lean against the railing, staring at your reflection. The faint glow in your storm eye flickers once, then calms, like the power itself is finally at rest.

“You know,” you murmur, “I thought… after Kaido, after everything… maybe I’d feel empty.”

“And?”

“I don’t.” You smile softly “I feel… free.”

He doesn’t answer right away, he just shifts slightly closer, his shoulder brushing yours “Good.”

The quiet stretches. Then you turn, teasing “Not going to give me a lecture for stabbing a Yonko?”

His lips twitch in almost a smile “If you hadn’t, Luffy wouldn’t have gotten his opening. So no.”

“Oh wow,” you laugh, “Trafalgar Law admitting someone else’s recklessness paid off. I should write that down.”

That gets him. A low, rare chuckle slips out, soft, real. The sound makes your chest warm.

“You’re impossible.” he mutters.

“You like me, though.”

“…Tch.” He looks away, but the tips of his ears burn red.

That’s when Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin come barreling over the bridge, all clearly tipsy.

“Y/N, Captain!” Shachi slams into Law’s back.

Penguin points dramatically at the sky “Fireworks!”

Bepo is already holding three sticks of dango “Come watch with us!”

Law pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing “Idiots.”

You laugh, tugging lightly on his sleeve “Come on. Just this once. No captain, no war. Just us.”

He looks at you, at the smile you give him, honest and open, and he exhales like he’s giving in to something inevitable.

“…Fine.”

When the crew is distracted by the explosions in the sky, you lean closer and press your lips against his, quick, soft, but burning all the same.

He freezes at first, surprised, but then he kisses you back, steady and certain, before pulling away just enough to whisper “Stay safe. Always.”

Your cheeks flush hotter than the fireworks.

Later, you find yourself surrounded by the samurai.

You bow deeply “I’m sorry. For being Kaido’s daughter. For… all the pain he caused you.”

But to your shock, they bow back.

“No, we’re sorry,” Kinemon says “For doubting you. For not protecting Wano sooner.”

Raizo nods “For letting you bear that weight alone.”

It turns into a ridiculous circle of apologies, your voices overlapping, all of you trying to out-apologize the other until you’re laughing through the tears.

Then comes the hardest goodbye.

Your brother Yamato is at the port, arms crossed, smiling with pride.

“I should be mad at you, you know,” he says “For leaving me here all those years ago.”

Your throat tightens “I’m sorry, Yamato. Truly.”

He shakes his head, pulling you into a hug so tight you can barely breathe “Idiot. You’re here now. That’s enough.”

When he lets go, his sharp eyes slide immediately to Law at your side “So this is officially the guy, huh?”

“Yamato!” you start, mortified.

He squints at Law, tilting his head “…Huh. My sister’s taste is still weird.”

“Yamato!”

Law’s eye twitches, but he stays stoic “…Tch.”

Your brother grins wider, clearly enjoying himself “You’d better take care of her, Captain Trafalgar. If you don’t, I’ll come hunting you down.”

Law doesn’t flinch “I don’t need threats to do that.”

That, strangely enough, seems to satisfy Yamato.

The Polar Tang hums as the crew prepares to set sail.

You stand at the rail, Law at your side, watching as Yamato waves from the shore until the island grows small in the distance.

Wano has colour again. Wano has freedom.

And you have a new journey waiting, hand in hand with the man who finally knows all of your secrets.

Another adventure has already begun.

[littlegrapejuice]

Grid Mum 10 | MV1

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Reader | platonic Rookies x Reader

Summary: Between the highs and lows of the Belgian GP to the Hungary Games, it was clear that you would be deserving of the month-long summer break coming after. But for now, it was time for another double header as chaotic as usual.

Author's Note: this one's for the anon who suggested the rookie competition<3 it was v funny to write, so thank you sm for the idea!! Hope y'all like this one😊 next chap will be the summer break, and it will def not be out before zandvoort bc i obv wanna wait till i know what everyone has been up to during it

F1 MASTERLIST🏎 | Previous Part | Next Part

Only a few days after your return from Italy, you were back to the paddock for the Belgian Grand Prix. Because it was Max’s favourite track, it was also yours by association – especially due to the fact that he had won it three times already.

Like every year, you were hoping for a clear lack of rain during the weekend. And like every year, your prayers wouldn’t be answered. For now, though, the weather was fine. You had a drink in your hand, your phone in the other, and were talking with a couple mechanics about the free practice from earlier. Max had finished second, which made the team feel hopeful about having good results during the rest of the weekend.

You spoke with the mechanics for a bit more, until the person you had been nervously waiting for arrived – Max’s mum: Sophie Kumpen.

You liked Sophie. And according to Max, she liked you as well. But there was always this little part of yourself that was doubting it, due to you and her not spending that much time together. Every time you had seen her – which wasn’t often, you were either with Max or Victoria.

So today was actually your first time ever being alone with Sophie. It kind of made you more comfortable that it was in a public setting like the Red Bull garage, and you hoped to make a good impression after not having seen her for a while.

After making a bit of small talk, the two of you were currently watching the Sprint Qualifying together and it was surprisingly one of the best times you’d had in the garage in a while. Sophie had been more talkative than what you expected, especially regarding the rookies.

“I see things on social media, you know. I’m not the best with it”, she admitted. “But it’s not difficult when Max is pictured everywhere with you while you two are being followed around by half a dozen kids.”

“Yeah, the rookies are a bit clingy sometimes. But they’re truly the sweetest, and it’s always fun to be with them.”

“I imagine. It’s not necessarily something that Max would talk about with me, but I know it’s doing him good to be with them – and I hope the same applies to them when they’re with Max.”

“It does”, you confirmed with a smile. “They look up to him so much, and they have every right to do so when it’s to admire someone like Max. He cares for them – I do too, and that’s because he's just a wonderful human being. He helps them figure things out as they’re still discovering the ins and outs of F1. That’s who he is: just a kind person who grew attached to some kids whom he doesn’t want to experience what he did.”

“I’m glad you see him like that”, Sophie said as she took your hand in hers. “It makes me really happy to know that Max has them, and you, around. And I hope he still treats you well, by the way. I wouldn’t bear learning that my son hasn’t been spoiling my future daughter-in-law like he should.”

“He’s always treating me like royalty, don’t worry about it.” You wouldn’t comment on it, but you had to admit that Sophie calling you her future daughter-in-law was making your heart swell with joy. The thought of her already accepting you as part of the family made you feel warm inside, and you squeezed her hand to thank her for the previous words. “You have a very loving son, Sophie. You can be proud of who he is.”

“Thank you,” she replied. She was grateful for your words and now knew for certain that there wouldn’t be any other person more perfect for Max.

Still holding each other’s hand, you and Sophie then focused your attention on the Sprint Qualifying as Max was about to leave his garage. Unbeknownst to the two of you, he had seen you talking in his wing mirrors. Even if he had no idea what you two had discussed, he had been able to see the smiles you both harboured and that was enough for him to know that everything was going well between his two favourite people.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Your heart wanted to break when you saw Kimi appear on the screen in front of you. He had just qualified P20 for the sprint, due to a mistake he had made during his hot lap. He had gone wide at one point, making him lose a lot on time.

The screen showed him back in his garage, as he was still in the car. He had removed his visor to rub his eyes, and it was obvious that he was crying.

“Sorry, sorry…” He said on the radio as he tried to wipe his eyes again. The break in his voice was obvious, and everyone could guess how unwell he currently was.

It was a hard thing to witness, especially after the previous grand prix. Since his podium in Canada, Kimi hadn’t been having much luck and it was frustrating him. He wasn’t having the rookie season he had expected to get when driving for Mercedes, and it was obvious that it would take a toll on his morale.

Because SQ2 would be starting soon , you figured that you would go see Kimi later. You knew that his team and Eli would be there for him in the meantime. But what you hadn’t expected, was to eventually receive a text from Eli when the Sprint qualifying was over.

Sorry to bother you, but i think kimi needs you here :(

Can you come see him?

Your heart definitely broke at that moment. You reread the message a couple times, now thinking that it was quite serious if your support was needed. Having noticed the shift in your attitude, Sophie immediately understood what was going on.

“You should go if you’re needed elsewhere”, she told you with a warm smile. “I’ll be fine here, I know my way.”

“I had a really great time with you. I hope we can see each other again soon?”

“Of course! Now go be a mother – or grid mum as I think they call you, those kids are lucky to have you.”

“Thank you”, you mouthed to Sophie before slipping away from the Red Bull garage.

It didn’t take long to reach Mercedes. And when you did, Eli was already waiting for you. Her eyes lit up when she saw you approach, and she sighed in relief at your presence.

“How is he?” You asked Eli, while she led you to where Kimi was.

“A mess”, she only replied. “I think I helped, but I know you’ll be better for him.”

“I’ll try my best”, you told her.

When your eyes eventually settled on Kimi, your first reaction was to walk up to him and crouch down to his level. His eyes were red and puffy as he looked up at you, and you noticed the tears that hadn’t even dried yet on his cheeks. If you thought his state had been bad in Austria after his collision with Max, this one was actually worse.

“Oh, sweetheart…” You quickly wrapped your arms around Kimi’s shoulders while he wasted no time putting his around your waist. You began rubbing his back, hoping to bring him some comfort.

Kimi sniffed in your shoulder due to his runny nose, but you didn’t care if he would ruin your t-shirt. The two of you stayed like that for a few more minutes, hugging on the ground like nothing else mattered. To be honest, only Kimi mattered to you at that moment. It really felt like you were experiencing your own child’s first heartbreak, and could only hope that this would be the last one.

“Your hugs are always very comforting,” Kimi eventually said as he turned his head to the side so that his temple was now resting on your shoulder. “That’s like… kinda unfair how one hug from you could heal anything.”

“Don’t tell anyone, but it’s actually my superpower.” A smile appeared on your face when Kimi chuckled at your words. Even if it would take more time and effort than just a warm hug, you were glad that this was working for now.

“I know it’s not real, but right now it does feel like it…” Kimi’s eyes drifted to the doorway, where Eli was still standing. He smiled at her, silently expressing his gratitude for having brought you here. “Come here”, he motioned for her with his hand to join the hug.

Eli kneeled on the floor next to you and Kimi, as one of your arms brought her closer. Kimi grabbed her hand in his, before he slowly took in the situation. He had two of his favourite people there for him, and he could never feel luckier for the support he was currently having.

The three of you were now basking in the comfortable silence that settled, as the tension was getting lighter. Kimi could feel the ache in his heart becoming less painful, thanks to you and Eli. He thanked the two of you with a whisper, his glossy eyes thankfully not shedding tears anymore. Kimi truly thought that right now, this moment felt like–

“Family time, hmm?” Someone else voiced Kimi’s thoughts out loud.

You, Kimi, and Eli all turned your head towards George. He had wanted to see how Kimi has been doing, since he had just finished his media duties. Not wanting to impose himself on the emotional situation, George stayed in the doorway as he leaned on the wall.

“How are you holding up?” He softly asked, truly caring about his young teammate.

“Not perfect”, Kimi admitted. He glanced at you and Eli, before looking at George again. “But I'll be fine, it’ll get better.”

“I’m glad,” George replied with a small nod. He took Kimi’s relaxed demeanour as a sign to also come sit on the floor. “So, who am I amongst this little family? If I’m allowed to join, of course.”

“You’re like the annoying uncle,” Kimi said without hesitation. “Kinda overwhelming, but sometimes cool… like a big brother, I guess.”

“I’ll ignore the first two adjectives and take the last one, thank you.”

“Wouldn’t he be the ex-wife?” Eli cluelessly wondered. “Because he has this weird divorced vibe with Max, so he could also be” – she looked at you and thought of how to word it – “like the mistress or side chick. I read about it online”, she explained.

While you and Kimi bursted out of laughter – the tears rolling down his cheeks would this time be happy ones, George’s expression turned into an offended one.

“If anything, she’s” – George pointed at you with an accusatory tone – “the mistress! I won’t accept such a low and minor role,” he dramatically complained.

“That’s wild,” you retorted. “Coming from the guy who talks shit about my man every chance he gets.”

“I’ll have you know that things are very fine between us now”, George argued. “We are both extremely mature people who overcame any personal issue that was interfering with our professional relationship.”

You could now only double over with laughter at the way George was talking. The sudden solemn tone in his voice was hilarious to you, and you truly couldn’t take him seriously. So as George was now feeling insulted by your reaction, he – jokingly – began to lecture you on your disrespect. The two of you kept pretending to argue, while Kimi just observed the exchange with a smile on his face.

Yeah, George was definitely the annoying uncle/big brother in all this. Eli was obviously his beautiful and sweet girlfriend. And you? Well, you were his one and only grid mum. The person who cared so much about him, that Kimi would never accept to ever let you leave his life.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

On the next day, you could only focus on one thing: Max reminding everyone why he was a four-times world champion. His performance at the beginning of the Sprint race was very reminiscent of Imola, as he overtook Oscar while Charles overtook Lando. The move was clean, precise, and once again enough for Max to keep the lead for the entire race before claiming victory at the chequered flag.

“I’m pretty sure I predicted this a couple weeks ago”, you teased Max when he came up to you in parc fermé. You didn’t hesitate hugging him, a proud smile on your face.

“Didn’t you say I’d win the actual race, though?” Max hugged you back, always thankful for your support.

“I don’t think I specified which one. But maybe it’ll work again tomorrow, who knows?”

“If my luck has run out by qualifying, then I’ll have had today’s victory at least. But thanks for this one”, he said before kissing you.

“That was all you, champ.” You let your eyes linger on Max for a couple seconds, looking at him like you were falling in love all over again.

Even after years of wacthing Max race and witnessing him win, you never ceased to be impressed whenever he would perform like he did today. You could never get tired of it, especially when it was happening in his second home.

After Max’s Sprint win though, there was unfortunately nothing else much positive to remember about the Belgian GP. Despite some good points for Gabriel and Liam as well as a P4 for Max, the rest of the weekend had been disappointing. Isack had qualified P8, but he eventually finished dead last. Kimi had qualified P18 – which had lead to him giving a heartbreaking post-qualifying interview, and he had only managed to climb up two positions during the race. Finally, Ollie and Franco’s races were definitely not their best either.

Safe to say, you were really wanting to raise everyone’s spirits for the next Grand Prix. Which is why, you would then end up spending the couple days following Spa to think of an idea that would motivate everyone for Budapest – including your boyfriend.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

On Thursday evening, you were having dinner with Max and the rookies. It was a way to unwind before an eventual restless race weekend, and to give them something else to think about. Which is what you did, when you finally felt ready to announce your plan for the weekend:

“You know what, I think you deserve extra motivation for this weekend.”

When you said those words, the rookies all turned to you in expectation. Even Max was patiently waiting for you to keep talking, despite him pretending to not be interested.

“With the summer break approaching, this is an essential grand prix to prove yourselves to the world. But I also wanna make it fair by not putting too much stress on you for the actual race. So what we’ll do is that whoever can perform the best during the practice sessions, can fly back with us after the Hungarian Grand Prix.”

“So like…” Liam thought for a second, replaying your words in his head. “The best of each session? Which means only three of us get to come?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of the best average,” you clarified. “That way, you have to show consistency and not just focus on being the best in only one free practice. But yeah, it can be the three best.”

“But what about…?” Kimi stopped himself before finishing his question. “I thought that…” He knew he shouldn’t say anything, but your plans were now slightly clashing with some other plans.

“Thought what?” You asked.

The rookies all looked at each other, silently debating what to say next. Even Max seemed ready to intervene, but he trusted them to not mess it up.

“What Kimi is trying to say, is that we had all hoped to catch a ride after the race weekend.” Ollie was quick to whip up something, which made the others sigh in relief. “Just so that we could then spend a couple days together before each going on our respective holidays.”

“Well, I won’t say no to that.” You found it cute that they all wanted to hang out with you even during the month-long summer break, but you wouldn’t give up on your idea so easily. “We can still do that, but some of you might have to hitch a ride back to Monaco by yourself. I promise we’ll all see each other once everyone manages to get here safely. But obviously, the ones that won automatically get the entire first day for themselves.”

“Meaning?” Isack wondered.

“Meaning that you’ll have my full undivided attention,” you explained. “And that applies to you too, Max, by the way.”

“What?” Your boyfriend had thought that he was safe from all this because he was literally your boyfriend, but he was now realising that you had other plans for him.

“Well, obviously I can’t ban you from your own jet so you get a pass for this.”

“So generous of you”, Max said as his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“But”, you warned. “You might not get to see me for more than five minutes the next day if some of them perform better than you this weekend.”

“Oh, you bet that it’s on now.” Even though he hadn’t planned for all of this, Max had to admit that a little competition wouldn’t hurt.

“Glad that everyone feels motivated now. Welcome to the Hungary Games!” You were excited for this, now hoping for a fun Grand Prix.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Therefore, the rookies were more motivated than ever when Friday rolled in and it was time for FP1.

“May the best driver win”, Franco told the others.

“It’ll be me, don’t worry about it.” Isack was harbouring a confident smile, already expecting to top the two practice sessions happening today.

“Now I’m glad that Paul isn’t replacing me today,” Gabriel chimed in. “That way I can smoke all of you early on.”

“You’re dreaming if you think you’re doing better than me in a Sauber”, Kimi said as he rolled his eyes.

“Well, at least my Sauber scored last week.”

“Okay, chill guys. Why are you so worked up today?” Having heard the conversation heating up, Lando had decided to join. “It’s just FP1.”

“It’s not just FP1,” Ollie argued. “We’re playing big this weekend.”

“Yeah, how so?” Lando was definitely curious now, and he wanted to know more about why the rookies were more motivated than ever. “Knowing you, I feel like it has something to do with Max’s girl.”

“Exactly,” Isack confirmed. “The stakes are a flight back home,” he explained.

“And an entire day with her,” Ollie added. “Like full focus on the three best drivers in practice sessions.”

“Does the race not count?” Lando asked. While the rookies didn’t notice the gears slowly but surely starting to turn in his head, Lando was definitely getting some ideas of his own now.

“Nah, it doesn’t. So we’re giving it our everything from the beginning of the weekend.”

“Interesting to know. Thanks for the info, Ollie.” And with that, Lando left the rookies with a plan already formed in his mind. He was ready to put it into action, especially when he saw the two drivers whom he wanted to talk to from afar.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Following FP2, the rookies and Max all met up to debrief about their respective results. They had all been scattered around the grid in both practice sessions, and the three who for now had the best average were fired up.

“You guys have nothing on me”, Isack bragged. “I’ve beaten all of you both times.”

Having ended up P4 in FP1 and P8 in FP2, Isack was currently leading the competition. Right behind him, were Ollie and Kimi who had finished the day with the same average. Safe to say, the trio was feeling so confident that they weren’t expecting anyone else to steal their positions tomorrow. Even Max, who was currently fourth, was close to giving up. He would have to at least finish in the top three in FP3 to claim a spot on the podium of your Hungary Games, and he already knew that it would be hard to achieve with the car he had. Putting things into perspective, Max thought about how he was at least guaranteed to fly back on his jet – which felt like the bare minimum – and he figured that he would easily survive a day without you.

The rookies, however… Max looked at Gabriel, Liam, and Franco. They all seem dejected at the idea of not winning the competition, and Max therefore thought of something to raise their spirits.

“I know it might not be worth much, but I can offer a counterproposal.” When his words caught the attention of the young drivers, Max hoped that his plan would work. “The ones who don’t win this little thing can spend a day with me. All-inclusive day”, he explained. And that had definitely not fallen on deaf ears.

“Tell us more”, Gabriel requested.

“I’ll take you out and treat you to whatever the fuck you wanna do, eat, drink – you name it. And we’ll see if a day with your grid mum is better than with your grid dad.”

“You’re finally calling yourself our grid dad?” Liam immediately reacted to the words, feeling like a milestone had been hit.

“You guys haven’t been giving me much choice”, Max replied with a sigh. “But I can promise you I can be as good – if not better – company.”

“You swear you’ll take us wherever we want?” Gabriel wanted to confirm the conditions, before starting to get excited about this opportunity.

“Yes, I swear.”

“You have to pinky promise”, Franco then chimed in.

“Pinky– what?”

“Pinky promise”, Liam repeated. “That means you won’t bail on us when the time comes,” he explained.

“Does my word mean nothing to you?” Max raised an eyebrow at the three rookies, not appreciating their lack of trust in him.

“Of course, it does. But that’s like a bonus”, Gabriel told him. “And to really prove your credibility.”

“Okay, fuck it. Bring it on”, Max said before holding his pinky towards them.

Gabriel, Liam, and Franco were now bound to Max by their sacred pinky promise. And suddenly, they didn’t really care much if they bottled FP3. Spending a day with you was a great opportunity; but spending a day with Max? Now, that was rare and it meant that they couldn’t miss this chance.

So when Gabriel finished P9, Liam P14, and Franco P13 the next day; well, they were already debating about the order in which they would do their planned activities. Meanwhile, the three winners had mixed feelings. Sure, they were happy at the prospect of having your full undivided attention for an entire day. But it had been slightly less fun to win the competition when there was no competition anymore.

“Crazy that I could have finished P20 and still not lose”, Isack said to Kimi and Ollie. “Those guys for real turned their back on us.”

“Max still had a chance, though. Does it mean that he didn’t want to spend the day with us?” Ollie wondered with a scowl.

“He hates us, that’s the only reason. He clearly has his favourites among us”, Kimi concluded.

“Shut up, mate. You’re literally his golden child”, Isack claimed. “Remember who has the fucking key…”

“But there’s Gabi on the other side”, Kimi argued. “He’s my direct competition at being Max’s favourite, if he’s not already.”

“Oh God…” Ollie exchanged a glance with Isack, not knowing how to comfort their friend.

“We just have to show them that we have a better time together,” Isack suggested.

“How so?” Kimi asked.

“Simple: whatever the other guys plan to do with Max, we do the same but at a better place or like– in a fancier way.”

“Go on.”

“For instance, I heard Liam mention wanting to go on Max’s boat to have lunch at sea.”

“And what do we do with that?”

As the conversation kept going between Isack and Kimi, Ollie simply watched the exchange like a tennis match.

“We…” Isack thought for a second about to up that when neither of them owned a boat. “We rent a helicopter tour and have a picnic on a hill?”

“Seems very extravagant, I like it.”

“Small question, though.” Ollie had been thinking on his own as well, and he needed to share his worries. “Is the day meant to be only for us to enjoy or not? Because Max said he would treat the others to whatever they wanted. But mum– hmm… she just mentioned that we had her for the whole day, not specifying what we’d do.”

“Why wouldn’t she enjoy the helicopter, though?”

“I don’t know, Isack! What if she has a fear of heights?”

“She literally flies to every grand prix”, Kimi reminded.

“Ollie, mate. You’re stressing for no reason”, Isack reassured. “And if you’re nervous about her not liking our plans, then we’ll ask her about it on the plane.”

“Yeah, seems good.”

It shouldn’t have gotten them into a state. It was just a day with their grid mum, after all. But maybe Ollie’s bad feeling about it had been foreshadowing about what would eventually happen the next day after the race.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Because yes, something had to happen on Sunday as the afternoon was nearing its end following the Hungarian Grand Prix. On your terms, neither qualifying nor the race results had mattered to the innocent competition for your attention.

So here you were, sitting in front of the Red Bull hospitality and waiting for your three winners. But when Ollie, Kimi, and Isack eventually arrived; well, they had an unpleasant surprise. Because you weren’t alone. And it wasn’t Max’s presence that was bothering the rookies. No, it was that there was the Ferrari prince on your right and the two McLaren drivers on your left. The three of them had smug smiles on their faces, clearly satisfied with their achievements.

Safe to say, the three rookies were confused. Especially when they noticed Max side eyeing the group from the table right beside.

“Are we missing something?” Ollie eventually asked, not liking the ominous feeling that crept up in his chest.

“Well, I was fine with losing my girl to you three. But I think there was a small issue in the terms and conditions of this stupid competition”, Max explained. “Those idiots claim they won.”

“What?!” The three rookies exclaimed in sync, not understanding why their prize was suddenly being stolen.

“Allow me to elaborate”, Lando began as he now harboured a proud smirk. “This little thing was supposed to reward the three best drivers in free practice, right? You told me so yourself, Ollie.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But it was only between us, the rookies, and Max!”

“Was it?” Lando raised an eyebrow at his fellow Brit, challenging him to say otherwise.

Now replaying your words from a few days ago in their mind, the rookies were starting to doubt themselves. Surely you wouldn’t accept such a ridiculous idea? But they noticed that you hadn't made any effort to move or deny Lando’s claims.

Deciding to ask the source and origin of it all, the rookies faced you with determined expressions.

“You can’t do this to us?” Kimi whined. “I– I was in the top ten for all sessions!”

“Well, we were in the top three for all sessions.” Finally deciding to back up his teammate, Oscar reminded the rookies of the McLaren domination.

“I’m sorry, boys. But they found a loophole,” you admitted. “I did say whoever can perform the best during the practice sessions, and that’s actually them.”

“This is fucked up… so fucked up”, Ollie complained.

“T’es mort, Charles. Je vais me venger au prochain grand prix”, Isack threatened.

“Oui, oui, fais ce que tu veux.” Not caring one bit about Isack’s warnings, Charles dismissed his words with a wave of his hand.

“You’ll all regret this”, Kimi told the three drivers around you. “And you?!” He added, addressing Max. “You’re not gonna say anything else?”

“I’m not any happier about this than you”, Max confirmed with a sigh. “But rules are rules, so…”

“Have a fun time flying back to Monaco in economy”, Charles said to the rookies who looked at him with widened eyes.

And that’s when it hit them: Ollie, Kimi, and Isack now had to get last-minute flights. Leaving the Red Bull hospitality with dejected expressions on their face, the three rookies were devastated.

“Do we think I can ask Fernando to fly us back?” Ollie eventually asked. “It went well when I was with him and the others last week.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try”, Isack accepted the suggestion.

The three would ultimately find a solution, not before planning a future revenge on the drivers who had stolen you from them. They were not ready to forget it anytime soon, and the thieves wouldn’t either when the time would come for them to reap what they had sown.

Meanwhile, Max was now suffering on his own jet due to the presence of the two McLaren drivers and Charles. You weren’t paying attention to him at all, and Max almost thought about jumping off the plane as it was currently flying over the Alps.

It didn’t get any better the next day when Charles, Lando, and Oscar were ready for their day with you at an ungodly hour. Max debated throwing one of his chairs on them from the window as they repeatedly rang the doorbell to announce their presence. The worst part of it all? You just chuckled at their excitement, actually amused at how annoyed Max was. Obviously, it was all done in teasing manners and there was no real animosity between the drivers.

“See you later, yeah?” You kissed Max on the cheek, before making your way out. “Have fun!”

Max would definitely have fun.

After a quick call with the rookies – Max would now take out six instead of only three, a plan was made following Isack’s idea from two days ago: everything Charles, Lando, and Oscar were making you do today; Max and the rookies would do it better.

So with Max tracking your position for the whole day, the rookies were able to suggest ideas based on wherever you were with your new and fake grid kids as they now described their prize stealers.

Lando asked to go bowling? Ollie immediately took the others to do some archery.

Charles brought you and his fellow winners shopping at APM? Suddenly, Max and the rookies were hanging out at your favourite store.

Oscar had the idea of playing table tennis? Liam knew to up that one by going to an actual tennis court – and this one finally made you notice what they were trying to do.

So now, you were the one who had to find an idea that the rookies would never be able to exceed.

“They wanna play?” You mischievously asked yourself and your temporary grid kids, as the gears turned in your mind. “We’ll definitely play.”

“What’s the one thing they can’t do better than us?” Land wondered.

“There must be something that can’t be more fun to do with Max than with you”, Charles added. “Is there anything you did with Max and the kids that none of them can recreate without you?”

“Let me think…” You ruffled through your memory, thinking of all the things you did outside of races with them.

“Or maybe,” Oscar chimed in. “Something you once said you wanted to do specifically with them – either you promised to do it all together or not already – but that you never had time to do?”

“Yes! That’s a good one!” You exclaimed, glad that Oscar had this idea.

There was one activity that you had once briefly mentioned with Max and all the rookies there. A suggestion you had made one day, claiming that it would be a family day. Obviously, the rookies had all been excited for it to happen in the future and you wondered if they still remembered it months later.

“I absolutely love aquariums, and I once joked about privatising the Oceanographic Museum for an evening. If my memory serves me well, they were all on board with the idea and Max said – I quote: consider it done whenever you want.”

“That’s actually such a green flag from him”, Lando acknowledged.

“Yeah,” Charles agreed. “Do you rent him from time to time? I might need that kind of energy sometimes.”

“I’ll tell Alex you said that”, you teased the Monegasque with a chuckle before he immediately took back his words.

“So, aquarium tonight? We’re not that far,” Oscar pointed out. “I think they close soon, but we clearly have time to walk there and organise it.”

“Would you guys even enjoy that?” You were glad that they were seemingly ready to indulge your little dream night, but you also wanted the drivers to have fun. “Do you” – your eyes settled on Lando – “actually want to spend your evening looking at fish?”

“For you? Yeah,” Lando confirmed without any hesitation. “You’ve accepted to spend this day with us, not refusing even one thing we wanted to do. So now, let us be the ones to treat you.”

“That’s so sweet, thank you so much. Dinner at the aquarium, then?”

“Consider it done”, Charles told you with a wink.

And easily done it was. This was how you were therefore having dinner on the terrace before eventually getting a private tour of the different aquariums. From turtles to sharks, with octopuses and starfish in between, you were currently having the time of your life. Sure, the company wasn’t the one you had expected to experience it with. But Charles, Lando, and Oscar were being such gentlemen that it was hard to not appreciate the time spent with them.

And even if you would never hear the end of it when you would come back home later that night to Max waiting on the couch with the rookies, you would never once regret the day you’d had today. It was worth all the complaints you would get from your true grid kids – which they all emphasised at least once when lecturing you. Obviously, you would have to promise them another special activity that you would definitely be forbidden to ever do with other people; and they would also make sure that any future competition between them was to never include anyone else from the grid.

Safe to say, you had chuckled at their attitude – until you weren’t laughing anymore when Max pulled out a printed contract that would formally bind you and prevent you from ever “betraying them” ever again.

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Taglist: @umm-i-love-u @callsign-mirage @freyathehuntress @elieanana @suns3treading @fastandcurious16 @l3thal-l0lita @urmomsgirlfriend1 @guacala @delululeclerc @st4r-girl-official @sol3chu

Thanks for reading<3 don't hesitate to like, reblog, or leave a comment so i can know your thoughts!!

Lil wip update so y'all know what to expect in the next couple weeks: currently writing 2 requests (kimi & isack) + a personal fic (lando) which i want to finish/post before i start work again in september - it should be fine, i hope😭

See you soon, take care of yourselves, love y'all xx

[nekoboydreams]

HELLO! I'm a huge fan of your work, Neko-san ♡I have soooo many questions about the character's you made and maybe even about YOU♡ But I'll separate my questions for individual characters for you to easily answer (Srry if my English is bad im still learning how grammar works🤜🏼😋)For Neko-san:

1) How did you come up with a circus with roles such as Pierrot, Harlequin, and Jesters when they're not commonly seen in circuses? (Idk if a circus has such roles, I've never even got into circuses)

2) Who's character has the most bugs when it comes to coding their scenes/dialogues??

3) While doomscrooling through a bunch of Q&A's I've seen that you used to have a little doodles of either Pierrot or Harlequin (Love those doodles btw) Why don't you do them anymore? Does it take time or do you genuinely think it's a burnout?? (Srry if it is)

4) If you got any hate comments (Your fandom is getting big so I thought that hate comments will appear soon enough) Do you take them seriously? Or do you use those hate comments as feedback to improve more or something else entirely?

5) Do you have any rules about your character's? Do you have any icks?( Like... Weird head cannons?)

6) Who's your biggest inspiration for this successful VN?

(It's okay if you haven't seen these questions i know your inbox has like...99+ messages everyday, We love your work! But PLEASE don't push yourself too hard for us, we can wait, Neko-san!)

Hello! I’m really happy you like my work! And don’t worry, my English isn’t native either haha.

1- I knew about the Pierrot clown, and while looking for more info I came across Commedia dell’arte and got inspired by those roles for each of them!

2- Definitely Harlequin. If something is completely simple to code, with zero chance of going wrong, putting Harlequin in the scene will make something weird happen. There are some sprites I’d like to fix with him because I didn’t like the drawing, but honestly, I’m even afraid to try and have something go wrong again, he’s haunting me! And I think Jester will be tricky too, he kind of… moves too much.

3- I didn’t expect there to be a fandom for my game haha. So at first, I always responded with some sketches, but the number of messages became huge and now it would be impossible to find time to do them. Otherwise, I’d spend too much time answering asks and wouldn’t make progress on the game the way I want haha.

4- Well, I do get hurtful comments sometimes. I don’t really understand why some people leave mean comments, but I try not to think too much about it, though it’s hard sometimes. On the other hand, I also get really sweet comments from people who’ve become a little happier thanks to my game, and that motivates me!

5- I’m not sure I fully understood what you meant by 'rules,' but there are traits of their personalities that I never intend to show. I want you to discover them as you get to know the characters, and if you do, that will make me happy haha.

6- I’d say Homicipher, because it was thanks to that game that I decided to make my own VNs! I also took a bit of inspiration from Digital Circus in the way the story is told, the episodes leave a lot of questions and always make me want to know what’s going to happen, so I wanted that exact feeling for my own game.

Thank you for the kind words! I hope I managed to answer your questions!

[lilirae00]

Still Here - Part 3/?

Summary: Paige and Azzi were never official. But they were never nothing, either.  Years in the future when they’re both in the WNBA, everything between them still feels unfinished and impossible to ignore. Inspired by the song, “Why Is She Still Here?” By Reneé Rapp. 

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, cheating storyline but not on each other, sexual references, nothing explicit 

a/n: There's a lot of you with very strong feelings about Azzi in this. I get it. But that's the way the story goes. Stay along for the ride. It won't always be smooth, but it'll be worth it.

Masterlist

—

Present Day - Dallas, Texas

It had been almost thirty days since the last time Paige saw her. Almost thirty days since Azzi showed up at her apartment that night apologizing for calling her a friend. 

Exactly twenty-eight days since she had allowed her body to forget what her heart had been trying to remember. Since she'd tasted someone else on Azzi’s lips and pretended it didn't wreck her.

She didn't text Azzi. She didn't reach out. Not even after the Lynx dropped their last three games and Azzi looked tight, tired, and tight-lipped in all the highlight clips. Paige hadn't said a single word. 

She had been trying to be done with Azzi, trying to erase her from her mind. 

And then Chicago happened. 

The hit didn’t look all that brutal in real-time, but Paige only remembered it in pieces. A flash of the floor under her feet and then breathlessness. One second she was driving into the paint, and cutting hard through two defenders, and then the next second her feet were in a tangle with another player, her body twisted, and after that everything…tilted. 

She vividly remembered the sound of her head hitting the hardwood floor but not the sensation of pain, at least not right away. She just remembered the hollow echo of her skull bouncing on the hardwood like a dropped rock. 

Then the spinning came. 

The lights above her eyes split into ten separate stars. The lines on the court wouldn’t stay still. And the crowd…God, the crowd was so loud, it was like they were shouting straight into her eardrums.

She tried to sit up and instantly regretted it.

After a trip to the emergency room that confirmed the concussion, she was finally cleared after 24 hours to come home under the strict guidelines of rest only. 

Now, two days later, she was still moving as if her body was in slow-motion. The spinning had finally subsided and her balance seemed mostly back to normal, but her head still ached intensely and bright lights still made her flinch.

She spent most of her days in a baggy hoodie, strings pulled tight, with the blinds in her apartment all closed as if she were hiding in a cave. Her teammates would come by and check in, her parents would call every day, and her coaches would text. 

Azzi did, too.

Texts came in quietly, one or two a day. Just checking. Just reaching.

But Paige never answered, didn’t even open them. She pretended they weren’t there.

So no, it hadn’t been silence. It had been avoidance.

She had spent the afternoon crumbling into the couch, trying to do anything that didn't require any effort. Her phone was face down on the coffee table. Her entire body felt like it was made out of wet sand, weighty and unstable. Her muscles ached, and she could feel her brain still lagging a half second between thought.

So when she heard a knock, it startled her.

Three, soft raps on the door of her apartment. 

She blinked, her heart suddenly beating loud in her ears. Nobody ever knocked. Not without sending a text first.

For a brief moment she thought it might be her mom, or a delivery.

But she knew, deep in her gut.

The knocking started again, and she stood up slowly. Her head rolled slow and lethargic as she stood and padded barefoot to the door. She looked through the peephole in the door.

Her stomach sank.

Azzi stood on the other side, holding the straps of her backpack like she was holding onto something to steady herself.

She looked small, serious even. Like she had already been standing there an unbearable amount of time before knocking. Paige opened the door but didn't say anything. They just stared at one another. 

Azzi took a step forward, her eyes glancing over Paige's face. "Are you okay?" she asked softly. 

Paige leaned against the frame, as if her bones could not hold her up on their own. She didn't answer. 

"I saw the game," Azzi continued. "I saw what happened. I’ve been texting you…" 

"I know." Paige's voice was flat. Hoarse. 

"You didn't answer." 

Paige turned away from the door, walking inside. "I know." 

But she didn’t shut the door behind her, so Azzi took the unspoken invitation to follow. The apartment was dark and dimmer than usual. The television was on silently. Dirty dishes piled in the sink. A wet towel was crumpled on the floor next to the couch. An open bottle of Advil also lay next to a mostly empty glass of water. 

"You shouldn't be alone," Azzi said softly. 

Paige dropped back onto the couch, turning to face Azzi. "You shouldn't be here," she said. 

Azzi took another small step toward her. "I needed to see you." 

"That doesn't mean you should have come." Paige had no energy left to be sharp. No energy for anything. And still, even just looking at Azzi…at the shape of her silhouette standing in this dark apartment, the familiar smell of her shampoo in the air, it shattered something in her chest. 

"I saw you fall," Azzi whispered. "I saw your head hit the floor, and your arms go stiff, and…you just laid there. And then you didn’t text me back and I kept thinking…what if this is the one time you don’t get back up?

Something twisted in Paige's stomach. "I always get back up." 

Azzi moved to the edge of the couch, squatting just beside it. "You're not okay." 

"No," Paige said, meeting her eyes. "But that's not your job to fix." 

Azzi's face cracked. "I’m not here to fix it, I just…God, I didn’t know where else to go." 

"That's the thing, Azzi, you have someone at home. You go home." 

The air between the two of them thickened. Familiar. Heavy with a longing that still hadn't been spoken. Paige leaned back into the couch, her body aching in too many places. “What do you want from me?” she asked. 

Azzi's eyes didn't move off her face, like she was trying to memorize every piece of her. She didn't answer right away. “I just needed to know you’re okay,” she settled on. 

Paige sighed, leaning back further against the cushions and folding her arms over her chest. "Well... I'm not," she said flatly. Her voice wasn’t defensive, it wasn’t anything. 

Just flat. Just tired.

Azzi swallowed heavily. Her fingers twitched at her side like they were dying to just reach out to Paige, but were afraid of being denied.

“You could’ve called,” Paige said, still not looking straight at her. “You could’ve just called and asked how I was feeling.”

“You wouldn’t have answered.”

Paige didn’t say a word as Azzi moved a little closer to sit next to her on the couch. The pull in the air was still there. It was steady, undeniable, and humming just beneath the surface, like it always was, always had been.

But this time there was something different in Azzi's eyes. Something was shaken loose. 

She looked like she hadn't slept in days, like she had recently carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her breathing was uneven. Her shoulders were tense. It looked like she didn't even know how to be still anymore.

She reached out slowly, as if it hurt to lift her hand, before her slender fingers brushed along the side of Paige's face. She slowed again just before her thumb lightly grazed Paige's temple like she was inspecting it for visible wounds. 

Her hand trembled before softly settling there, with a tenderness that punched the air right out of Paige's lungs.

No words. Just skin on skin, like Azzi needed to touch or to feel with her own skin that Paige was still there, that she was actually okay. 

Azzi's other hand settled on Paige's jaw, with a thumb catching beneath the edge of her cheekbone. 

Azzi squinted her brow, but there were no tears and yet, the glossy look was there. The weight of her chest was visibly tight, like she was holding something back. 

Something painful. 

Not lust. Not want.

Heartbreak.

Love.

Guilt.

Paige's eyes fluttered closed with the quiet care of Azzi's hands. The soft heat of palms. The tenderness of touch. 

And then Paige took Azzi’s hand, and pressed it against her chest like she needed her to feel the way her heart was still beating.

“I shouldn’t let you stay,” she whispered. “But I don’t have the energy to fight you tonight.”

Azzi nodded. And somehow, that meant it was alright. 

They moved together with a steady slowness that emerged from grief, like they both knew each movement was going to cost them.

There was no rushing. No roughness. Azzi peeled the hoodie from Paige's body and kissed the shape of her shoulder like it was a prayer. Paige pulled her into bed without a word.

It wasn’t sex. It was something quieter. Azzi kissed the outline of any bruise like she wanted to kiss it better, while Paige clung to her like she needed a way to hold herself steady against the vertigo.

They didn’t talk.

Azzi wrapped around her from behind, arm draped across Paige’s middle, warmth heated into the small of her back. And Paige let her.

Because right now, she didn’t have the energy to not let Azzi hold her.

And Azzi… Azzi held on like she’d never let go.

—

The morning arrived in gentle blue tones that barely filled the dark areas of Paige's bedroom. The blinds were still closed, the room cool and quiet, and for several long moments, Paige just laid there and lingered somewhere in the gap between sleep and the pain of waking. 

There was still a slight throb of pain in her head. It was like a low, mild rhythm behind her eyes, but that wasn’t what woke her up. It was Azzi's body behind her, not just still but frozen. 

Paige didn’t move, she remained quiet and listened. She felt the faint hitch of Azzi's breath, the stiffness of her body. She wasn’t really asleep, she hadn’t been asleep for some time. Paige could tell. She was just lying there, motionless, like any kind of movement might break something. 

Paige swallowed against the lump in her throat and spoke softly. "You’re awake," she said. 

Azzi's arm adjusted slightly around her waist. "Yeah." 

Paige didn’t turn to face Azzi. She just continued to stare straight ahead at the wall, her eyes adjusting to the light leaking around the edges of the curtains. 

Azzi’s breath was stuck like she hadn’t meant to say anything. “How’s your head?” she finally asked, her voice hardly a whisper against the quiet of the room. 

It was more than a question. It was worry mixed with effort, stretched thin under guilt. It was the sort of care you give when you know you’ve lost the right to ask, but still ask because not asking is worse.  

Paige closed her eyes for one second too long. Her chest constricted, her throat caught on the answer that wanted to come out, and she was afraid it would be too much. “Fine,” she said, flat and fast, hoping she could outrun the softness in Azzi’s voice with speed.  

Azzi didn’t respond. She just laid there behind her, still and waiting and not pushing or moving, like she was trying to be small inside a feeling that had already gotten too large. 

And Paige could feel it. All of it. How Azzi’s arm hadn’t moved. How her breath changed slightly after asking the question. 

She wanted to turn over and bury herself in Azzi’s chest. She wanted to let go and feel cared for, held, and safe. But the second she did, if she allowed herself to feel the full weight of Azzi’s worry, she knew she wouldn’t be able to say no to any part of it. 

So she looked at the wall and clenched her teeth and felt her heart pounding inside of her, doing everything she could think of to not break apart in the sound of someone still loving her in the dark.

“How are you even here?” Paige asked after a moment. “Don’t you guys have a game in New York this week?”

Azzi paused to respond. "I told the team it was a family emergency. Said I would be back tomorrow." 

That made Paige blink. "A family emergency," she repeated. 

Azzi's chin grazed her shoulder, while she nodded slightly, as if the movement would disturb the moment. "I had to see you." 

Paige finally turned with careful movement rolling to her back, to see better. Azzi's eyes were red and tired, her hair was a mess like she hadn't been to sleep, or at least had not slept much. 

"You flew across the country," Paige said softly. "Because I hit my head." 

"Because you didn't answer my texts," Azzi corrected, her voice slipping out of control. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about how hard you went down. About how long you laid there. And because I needed to know you were really okay." 

Paige let her eyes fall closed for a moment. She didn't want to feel how she felt, like a weight on Azzi's behalf cracked something open inside of her again, something she had recently been desperately trying to keep shut. 

When she opened them, Azzi was still looking at her, searching her face like she could uncover something hiding there. 

"I don't get it," Paige whispered. "You told me you don't love her. So why do you keep going back to her? Why is she the one you wake up next to when I'm the one you’ll fly halfway across the country for?" 

Azzi sat up slowly and pushed herself to sit up against the headboard. She dragged a hand slowly down her face, like if she did it slowly, it would help ease the tension. She sighed and said, "Because you feel like home." 

Paige's chest tightened. 

"I don't…" Azzi drew in a breath, paused, and switched gears. "I don't know how to explain it. Emma is...  good. She's good to be around. She listens. She’s calm. It’s not a war every time I walk into the room.”

Paige flinched. "And that’s what I am? a war?" 

Azzi quickly shook her head, "No. No, that’s not what I mean." She was leaning forward now, her voice low, but urgent. "With you, it’s just... deeper. And it’s been like that from the very beginning. I have never figured out how to stop feeling so much with you." 

Paige was staring at her now, eyes full of fire. "Then why don't you just stay?" 

"Because you scare the crap out of me," Azzi said, barely above a whisper. "Because when I’m with you, it’s too real. Always has been. You know me in ways that no one does. You actually see me and that has never been easy." 

Paige looked at the sheets, bunched up like her life, in her lap. "So, what…Emma is just easier to love?" 

Azzi held her breath. "No. She’s just... easier to leave." 

Paige blinked at Azzi, confused. "What does that even mean?" 

Azzi hesitated, her eyes searching the ceiling as if the words would be there, "I mean... if I lose Emma, it will hurt. Of course it will hurt, because she’s safe. She doesn't ask for those parts of me that I don't want to give. But I’d get through it. I would eventually move on.”

She turned her head to look at Paige, finally. Her voice barely audible as it quivered, "But you? If I ever had you, like really had you and then lost you…I…I wouldn’t be able to survive that." 

Paige's breath caught. She looked at Azzi, really looked at her. The face she knew better than her own. The girl who always had the power to break her, and keep breaking her into tiny pieces. 

She swallowed hard. "Did it ever cross your mind that leaving could ruin me too?" Her voice cracked in a dry and unforgiving way, "That every time you go back to her, you take a little more of me?" 

Azzi flinched again, but Paige was not done. "Did you ever think for one second, that maybe, my heart isn't built to bounce back either? Or were your feelings the only ones that mattered?" 

Azzi was looking at her without looking away, but Paige could see the tears now. Thick, all on the edges, unspilled because they wouldn't fall unless Paige made them fall. 

"I think about it all the time." Azzi whispered, "I know what I'm doing. I know what it’s doing to you. But every time I try to stop showing up here and wanting you….I can't, Paige. I miss you like I miss oxygen. And when I see you, it’s like my body remembers how to breathe again." 

She reached out to touch Paige's face, but stopped herself and pulled back a little more than halfway there. 

Paige was looking at her, something sharp twisting behind her eyes. "And then you go home to someone else,” she said softly. "You let me carry the weight of it while you crawl into a bed with someone who thinks you're hers."

Azzi flinched.

"You know what that makes you?" Paige asked, almost under her breath. "It makes you a shitty person."

Azzi blinked, as if she had been slapped.

"You continue to show up here, needing me, touching me, saying that you care, only to go home to someone else like none of it means anything. That's not fair, and it’s not okay."

Azzi's voice cracked open. "I'm so fucking scared, Paige."

Paige blinked.

"Of choosing," Azzi continued, almost desperate. "Of choosing you and somehow messing it up and losing you anyway. Because I don’t even know how I’d survive that."

Paige stared at her, heart beating slow and heavy like it was sinking and settling into mud. The room felt small, too small really, for all the feelings that were pushing at her ribs. “I love you," she said, and the words felt like submission. 

Not whispered in a haze of sex or in those precious moments of peace with sheets rolled up underneath them. It was said like a truth that had been eating her alive for years. "I have loved you for so long that I don’t even know who I would be without it, Azzi."

Azzi's lips parted as if she might say it back. Paige could see it there, on the tip of her tongue. There, in that teardrop hanging off her lashes. 

But she didn’t say it. And there was something in Paige that just broke. 

Her head began to throb again, sharp and insistent. She did still technically have a concussion, still had difficulty with her balance, her focus, and the ability to endure this kind of pain without breaking. 

Finally she stood up, slowly, her legs shaky under her as she reached for the sweatshirt she'd tossed over the back of a chair the night before. The fabric felt heavier than it should have, as if even her clothes were tired of holding this. 

Her voice, when she found it, was quiet, but sharp enough to cut both of them. "Don't come back." 

Azzi flinched, her eyes wide. "Paige…"

"Not until you can choose me," Paige said, her tone strong even though her fingers shook at her sides. She held Azzi's gaze like it physically hurt to. 

"You don't get to have both. You don't get to have someone safe waiting for you at home who cheers for you, who fits into the life you built, then come to me to actually feel something." 

Azzi's mouth opened like she might respond, but Paige wouldn’t let her. 

"I make you feel. I know that and you know that. But I’m not some secret you get to come back to when it’s convenient for you, or when you’re scared or lonely or looking for proof that your heart still works." 

She swallowed, her breath unsteady. "If it’s her, fine. At least that’s a choice. But if it’s me, Azzi... it has to actually be me.”

Azzi remained silent, but the silence between them spoke volumes. Something twisted in her face that she could never say. Hurt, guilt, longing. Maybe all three.

She bent down to pick up her clothes from the floor, deliberately and slow, as if every second made her limbs heavier. She hooked her bra backward with shaking fingers. She pushed her tank top over her head, and pulled on her shorts. She grabbed her bag from the corner of the room and stared at it like it could convince her to stay.

Paige didn’t move, didn’t speak. 

Azzi paused at the door. 

Once she looked back, her eyes glossed over with all the feelings she didn’t have the voice to say. Then she turned.

The door didn’t slam shut. It clicked, gently. Like the end of a chapter neither of them were ready for.

And Paige sat silently, looking at the space in the doorway, hearing the sound of the door closing as an empty echo in her chest like something breaking apart. 

Not because Azzi left.

But because this time, Paige told her to.

—

Three weeks. That’s how long it had been since she told Azzi to leave and actually meant it.

Since then, Paige went back to practice. She iced her neck. She took her vitamins and did her post concussion protocol check-ins each day, without fail.

She smiled at her teammates, she laughed at the jokes in the locker room, and she fought to get her rhythm back on the court, as if everything inside her wasn’t falling apart.

And tonight, it paid off.

Dallas had just sealed a spot in the playoffs after defeating the Valkyries. It was hard-fought, physical, and the kind of game that made reporters crowd a little closer during the postgame presser. Paige walked away with 32 points, 8 rebounds, 12 assists, and 3 blocks. 

The lights in the media room were bright, but Paige blinked through trying to ground herself. She shifted in her seat with a white towel looped around her neck, and a ponytail that was starting to fall loose from sweat and pressure. 

The win felt good. It really did.

But she didn’t feel it the same as she used to.

“Paige, how’s your head?” Some voice called from the front row.

She nodded once, sharply. “Good. No lingering symptoms. Just thankful for clearance and the opportunity to be out there.”

Another hand shot up. “That block in the fourth, you looked like you had some kind of incentive. Was that from the game or something more personal?”

A flicker of a smile. “Every time I step on a floor, I have a reason to win. So that’s not a surprise.” 

Polite laughter buzzed throughout the room.

Another question came, softer. “It’s been a tough road for you this year. Injuries. Recovery. And, some noise off the court about your rookie contract ending. What has been the hardest part for you, emotionally?”

That she wasn’t expecting. 

Paige blinked, her eyes judging the large room, with so many faces, so many lights. 

So many things she couldn’t say.

She swallowed hard, pulling her fingers away from the microphone as they twitched in the space of its grip. "I think..." she started, but paused. Her voice sounded raspy. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I think the hardest part has been the quiet." 

The room stilled, with no one stepping in.

"I've had to sit with a lot of things this season," Paige said, her voice low with thoughtfulness. "A lot of... moments that I thought were going to mean something. People I thought I could trust. And then, when those people are gone, you realize how loud the quiet really is." 

A beat passed.

Then the words came out before she could stop them.

"I guess I'm just tired of being a ghost in someone else's story."

The air snapped. A soft murmur passed through the room. Pens were being scratched against pages, phones were being lifted into the air, but Paige didn’t flinch.

She only sat there staring at the mic like somehow it would absorb the unintentional confession. She gave them a tight smile, nothing more than an acknowledgement, and leaned back against her chair.

The PR rep interjected. "Okay, that's all for today. Thanks, Paige." 

She stood, the scraping of chairs arose behind her like the push of a wave. Cameras flashed, and voices started to chase after her name along with it. But Paige didn’t look back.

In the locker room, she sat on the bench long after the others had showered and left. Her phone buzzed with notifications, mentions, retweets, texts she wouldn’t open. She tossed it facedown into her bag.

She meant what she said, every single word. 

She just hadn’t meant for Azzi to hear it too.

But she probably would.

And that was the part that made her chest ache.

[therinaes]

Baby Fishie 🐚

in which you find out you’re with child, and the first thing that comes to your mind is how to break the news to your husband

aka you messing with soon-to-be-dad Rafayel’s head 

tags: fluff, crack

wc: 1k

ri's note: made this on a whim hehe i love them your honor i love papa raf, dad ayel :<

When you found out that you were with child, you had two things you became overly excited about: number one, your baby (of course), and number two, Rafayel’s reaction. Now, you knew simply telling your husband about it would already elicit such a satisfying reaction from him, but… unfortunately, you were just as over the top as him.

While mulling things over, you decided to start the game by cutely hinting at things — from buying those things that come with full-size along with mini-sized ones, to reposting short videos of cute and adorable babies (sometimes fishies).

Most of the time, however, you hinted in a not so cute way.

“Raf.”

“Yeah?” He isn’t looking at you yet, his back still turned towards you as he faces his canvas while you lay reading on his couch.

“Do Lemurians give birth or do they really lay eggs?”

You hear his tall, ladder-like wooden chair creak as he quickly turns to your direction. “Huh?”

“What?”

“Why are you asking that?!”

You slightly raise the book you were currently reading, the words ‘The Land of Lemuria’ elegantly embossed on the hardbound cover. Rafayel scoffed.

“Cutie, you know that book is a complete scam, right?” He whines. “Don’t easily believe things you read, even if it’s in published books… Especially about ancient and long-lost civilizations.”

A feigned sigh comes from your lips. “Well, I’m asking you, a true-blooded Lemurian, aren’t I?”

Seeing your poor husband flustered, you kindly decided to press him more. You simply can’t help it! That cute little pout of his, the adorable furrow of his brows, and the scarlet that slowly seeps through his ears — they all make it a little hard for you to stop teasing him.

“I’m just being a good wife, wanting to know more about my own husband’s origins. I saw something about how fishies laid eggs and I just got curious about how your people reproduce but no,” you dragged the last syllable on, seemingly whining. “The husband in question lectures me instead.”

He grins. “Aww. Wife, is this your way of saying that you’re missing me in the comforts of my own company because I’m busy painting?”

‘When did I even say that?’ You thought.

Rafayel was met with no response as you only rolled your eyes before pretending to give your attention back to the book. Soon, light sounds of his footsteps against the steps of his ladder reached your ears.

The next thing you know, the book serving as your prop was quickly snatched away.

“I’m all yours now.” He beams as he lays down beside you. You feel his arms wrap around your waist, his hair tickling your cheeks as he buries his head between your neck and your shoulders.

“So what was the answer to my question?”

Rafayel only huffs as he snuggles closer.

Little did he know, it was only the first of several similarly-lined questions. On a particular Sunday morning, he was woken up with another question of yours: what did he look like when he was a baby. The next Tuesday, it was, “Is Reddie like our first child or our first pet?”

It wasn’t even just mere questions.

Once, Rafayel accidentally saw you browsing through baby shops on your phone, your phone that you totally did not purposely leave on the couch when you had to go to the restroom. Another afternoon, he was minding his own business, locked in and painting in his studio. The next thing he knew, you were now telling him off for leaving his things around again.

“This is why we have eyes, my dear wife. So we can see things and avoid them accordingly!” He flamboyantly declares, whipping his paintbrush up to accentuate his point.

You raise a brow. “Oh really? Then why were you hospitalized that one time for tripping on your paintbrush after getting out of your bath tub?”

“That was one time!”

“And? It still happened!” You let out a dramatic sigh. “What would you do if your child trips on your paintbrush?”

He stills. And as if he was one with nature, the gentle breeze and waves do too.

You turn away, hiding your triumphant smile.

“What?” 

And more inarticulate noises of confusion flooded the entire studio when he realized you already left before he even got his clarification.

Now, Rafayel is not at all naive.

He definitely had his suspicions, alright. He got a hunch, but then he picked up on how you started having mood swings and how you had your sensitivity heightened (during these days he learned how to pamper you even better than he regularly does). Unfortunately, the timing coincided with his estimates of your cycle dates, so your husband was a little saddened that his initial theory of you being with child was debunked.

Little did he know, his pretty little wife was already being impatient with how he’s been failing to pick up the clues left and right.

You want him to be with you in your next appointment.

Meaning, you had to tell him very soon.

And doing so while he was cooking up one of your pregnancy cravings might just be the perfect timing, you think.

“Do you smell something fishy?” You say as you approach and watch Rafayel as he confidently displays his culinary prowess. 

“Are you talking about the seafood dish you requested that I am currently making or your behavior lately?”

“No, actually, I was referring to my belly.”

“Huh?” He says, amusement evident in his voice. “What, did you eat fish earlier or something? Swallowed some of my fishie friends, cutie?”

You laugh. 

“Rafayel, are you serious?”

Your husband furrows his eyebrows and pouts, turning back to the stove. You merely smile before heading behind him, gently snaking your arms around his waist after. Rafayel, feeling his beloved tiptoeing, instinctively crouches and slacks down a little, making it easier for you to rest your chin on his shoulder.

“Rafayel.” He smiles at your cute voice.

“Hmm?”

“If you’re a fishie, does that make the little one inside of me a baby fishie?”

You grin as you feel him freeze. 

He then rapidly turns toward you, dish currently simmering in the pot now forgotten, granting you the pleasure of watching his face as he vividly expresses how the gears in his head are turning. Then freezing. Then turning again.

You cup his face, and Rafayel immediately melts against the warmth of your palms as his glassy eyes softly mirror yours.

“Congratulations, papa fishie.”

[hergirls24]

Small family 💚

Summary : You want a family, but since Natasha has been in the red room she was infertile.. which caused her to be unsure of what to do. Does she tell you and break your heart?

Warning : 18+ men and minors DNI, smut, G!P Natasha, Slight violence from Natasha, angst if you squint, happy ending though, Natasha punishing herself, Alcohol intake.

I don't know the word count but around 1.5K

This is a draft from a few weeks ago, thought I'd post it 💚

MASTERLIST

"let's have a baby." The words entered Natasha head like a cut, she couldn't give you kids because she was infertile but she never told you. You didn't know.

She just gave you a warm smile, "I don't think I'll be a good mother." She answered back, you just pouted.

"We'll learn together, I want a mini you running around." You cuddled up closer to her, laying your head on her chest and sliding your hand up her stomach under her loose shirt, "plus.. there's benefits."

Natasha flipped you both over, you were now underneath her pinned down, your legs wrapped around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. The kiss was slow, meaningful, loving but it soon changed when her tongue entered your mouth.

You were out cold, it was 2:36 am so she didn't expect you to be awake due to recent activities. She was still naked so she put on a pair of boxers, loose basketball shorts and a sports bra. Left the room quietly but took a quick glance at you, you moved slightly towards her side in your sleep which made her smile.

She couldn't sleep, not with the fact you wanted a family but couldn't give it to her, she felt guilty. She should have told you on the first date, it should have been said.

She poured herself a glass of vodka, "Your drinking vodka. What's up?" Bucky said as he walked into the kitchen, Natasha turned around and just sighed.

"Y/n.. she wants kids." Bucky didn't see the issue, "With me." She added.

He frowned, then he understood, "she doesn't know?" Nat just shook her head and drunk the alcohol in one gulp. It stung on the way down but it's what she needed, "She'll understand, she's not like the rest of them."

He also got a glass out but filled it with water, "I don't know how to tell her, It's going to break her heart." She sounded so defeated.

Bucky placed his hand on her shoulder, he was the only person Natasha really trusted when it comes to talking about the red room, he understands because of HYDRA, "coming from me, she will understand. Don't forget where she came from." Y/n was also another subject from HYDRA infact she was born and raised there so she understood more than bucky. "She won't get upset, she won't be mad. She'll be happy that you told her."

The next morning you woke up expecting her to still be there, but instead you found yourself alone. Her side of the bed was cold but the shower was on. You stood out of bed and went to join her but the door was locked, that wasn't like Natasha. She never locked the door unless you weren't here.

You ignored it and slid back into bed, waiting for her. She came out the bathroom 20 minutes later with a towel around her waist, you waited for her to say good morning but all you got was silence. Did you do something?

"You locked the door."

She nodded, "I wanted some time alone, I'm just stressed about the next mission." She sat on the edge of the bed next to her pillows, you crawled over to her and placed your hands on her shoulders.

You started to kiss her neck, "I can help get rid of the stress." She didn't move her head to the side as normal, you looked up at her to find her face blank. Like she was being distant with you. "Tasha?"

No answer, you went to give her a kiss but she stopped you, "just leave me alone." Her words were cold, distant and painful.

"Nat-" she pushed you off her before you could even finish saying her name, you wanted to cry. You didn't understand what you did wrong.

"I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE."

She also looked like she wanted to cry, what made things worse was that you were naked and vulnerable. You pulled the blanket over you, "fuck, I'm sorry."

You just gave her a small smile, "It's okay, your stressed."

Natasha left soon after to train, you went to get breakfast with the others. You had a hoodie and sweats on because you didn't feel that great anymore. A bowl of cereal solved your hunger quickly, you joked around with Thor but that was it.

Bucky walked in and noticed you, "Y/n! I know what nat told you was very hard but I'm always here for you." You frowned and placed the bowl into the sink, "I'm glad you two spoke about it though." He wore a smile and gave you a quick hug.

"bucky what are you talking about?" You questioned him, he looked at you and frowned.

He got the milk out of the fridge, "you know.. about Nat being infertile." He said quietly.

You couldn't believe your ears, "what?" His face went pale, "She never told me that." He took a mouthful of cereal and ate it like what he said didn't happen.

You went to find her immediately, going down to check the gym. You found her hoodie and phone but not her, you checked the showers and found the cubicle she was in.

You opened the door, "You should have told me." Natasha had her hands on the wall, her back muscles flexed. Her head was dipped like she was disappointed in herself. "I would have understood, but to hear it from Bucky? Come on nat."

She didn't turn around, "I'm sorry." Was the only words she could get out, she wanted to say more but couldn't find the words. She was broken. Hurt because she couldn't give you what you wanted. She couldn't give you a family.

"We can find different ways." You said as your arms wrapped around her body carefully, you were now naked with her in the shower. Water rippled off both of your bodies, you pushed the door shut with your foot and it locked. "We can adopt? Get a sperm donor... A million different options." You added, Natasha turned around and met your eyes.

Her eyes were red, she had been crying so you wiped her tears and the water off her face with your hand, "I'm sorry for not telling you, it just scared me because I didn't want to lose the only person I've loved." You nodded and pressed a kiss on her lips, she returned the kiss but pulled back to say something more, "Did I hurt you when I pushed you?"

You shook your head, "No you didn't baby, it's okay."

She smiled and kissed your again, "Is baby making still on the table?" You nodded quickly, her hands found the back of your thighs and she lifted you up so your legs were around her body.

Your lips quickly found hers again, there was no fight for dominance just pure love. Your tongues danced together like you were made for each other. She slowly pushed her dick into you and pressed the back of your body into the wall, "Fuck.." you moaned out, Nat smirked she always loved how you reacted to her even after 2 years.

The smirk quickly fell once you clenched around her, making it harder for her to move her hips, you knew it drove her crazy. She attacked your neck with her lips, teeth and tongue. Marking you. Owning you.

"Nat.. fuck 'm close." She pulled out of you completely, you moaned at the empty feeling but seconds later she bottomed out in you again, she repeated her actions until your orgasm washed over you. Her name was the only thing you could say, your body shook but she fucked you through your high.

She didn't stop, not for one second. Her hips sped up, your face buried into her neck and your arms wrapped around her. "Oh fuck." She groaned as she could feel the coil in her stomach snap, you came at the same time.

Your lifted your head up and kissed her, she kissed you back and was about to pull out but you stopped her, "Just stay like this for a few minutes." Nat had no issue carrying you so it wasn't a problem. You spent the next hour in the shower with her, not sexually just being there.

-

Natasha and you both asked bucky to be a sperm donor and of course he said yes, you offered him money in return but he declined and said it will be enough to see you both happy.

The baby came soon enough, you both found out it was a boy and you've have never been happier. Nat was the first person to hold her son, you wanted her to be the first person. "He looks like you." She said with a big smile on her face, she spoke to him like he could understand what she said and it was adorable.

"do you have a name?" The nurse asked, you looked at Natasha and she looked at you, "it's okay, takes some time."

You thought of a name, "Pietro.. Pietro Romanoff." You named him after your best friend, Wandas brother that sadly passed during a mission.

"Good pick, I'll be back later to check on him." The nurse left and you finally had some alone time. Nat handed you the baby and you careful took him.

You smiled at the boy in your arms, he fell asleep in your arms, "He's like his mama." You looked up at nat, she leaned in and pressed a kiss on your forehead. You spent at least 30 minutes alone before everyone started to come into the room, you handed Pietro to Natasha so she could show him all his aunts and uncles.

"What's his name?" Tony asked, Natasha smiled and looked at everyone.

You answered him, "We decided to name him Pietro." Wanda smiled and repeated the name.

Over the years Pietro started to look more like you, he has your brown eyes and brunette hair. But his personality was more like Natasha, his habits was like a copy and paste.

By the time he was 6 all he wanted to do was become an avenger, you got him a superhero outfit for his birthday. His own one. Along with a toy gun that he would forever cherish.

When he was finally 18 you let Natasha take him to the tower for a real superhero experience, that's where he got his first crush. A girl named Kate that Clint had taken under his wing. They went on a few dates and of course you was a worried mother but Natasha found it funny with the way you were.

"He's still my little baby." You told her, she nodded and kissed your cheek, but you suddenly got a wave of sadness, "he's all grown up now, he's not gonna need his mother's."

Nat pulled you into a hug as she tried containing her laugh, "honey, he'll always be our little boy don't worry."

You pouted, "Let's have another!"

"Okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

You frowned, "it's okay if your too old." Natasha gasped at your words, she was only 42 and she aged like fine wine. You were still younger, you were 39 so you always teased Natasha about being older.

"Me old?" You nodded and straddled her waist, "I'm not the one who complains about their back." You gasped.

"You complain about your knees."

"Because you made me fuck you in a weird position that messed up my knees."

You giggled and thought back to that moment, "You enjoyed it."

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Fine yes I did."

You laughed and laid your body against hers, "I'm tired." Natasha put the blanket over the top of you, it was almost midnight so she wasn't surprised.

"Get some rest detka." You both fell asleep without another word. Happy, content. And you have the most amazing kid in the world.

[thirteensome]

Ignored Baby Doljjongie

Starring: Yoon Jeonghan × Female Reader × Doljjongie

Summary: How dare you ignore his child—his baby Doljjongie?? You, of all people, should know that Doljjongie needs just as much attention as Jeonghan himself. And yet… you waltz in, eyes on Jeonghan, completely overlooking the small, round bundle of joy in his hands. Wow. Just… wow. Treating him like he’s a… rock? Unbelievable.

Warning: Fluff, Crack, Funny. Bullied Mingyu, Ignored Doljjongie, dramatic Jeonghan

WC: 2.4K

Jeonghan perked up the second he heard the familiar shuffle of your keys and footsteps. His heart practically jumped. Finally. She’s home. His love… and his baby’s love, too.

The door opened and there you were—exhausted but glowing, dragging your feet straight toward him.

“Hannieeeeee,” you sighed, voice dripping with affection as you climbed onto his lap. Your arms circled his neck, your lips pressed into his cheek, his jaw, his lips. “I missed you sooo much.”

Jeonghan, smug as ever, tilted his head back and basked in it like a sunflower bathing in the sun. “Ohhh, yes… more. Kiss me here… and here.” He tapped his jaw, then his forehead. He was milking every ounce of attention like he hadn’t been showered with it all morning.

You giggled, kissing him over and over. “You’re so spoiled, Hannie.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling you tighter. “But I deserve it. Your love, your attention, your everything.” He closed his eyes in bliss—this was paradise.

Until.

The moment shattered when you suddenly pulled away.

“Okay, I’m starving,” you mumbled, sliding off his lap. “I need food before I die.”

Jeonghan froze. His eyes widened. His grip loosened. His entire world tilted.

“…Excuse me?” he said softly, eyes following you as you headed toward the kitchen.

“You heard me. Food. Now.”

And just like that, you were gone. No glance. No nod. No acknowledgment. Not even a single word to the little one waiting so patiently in his arms.

Jeonghan gasped, clutching the small, round figure against his chest. “Doljjongie, my sweet baby,” he whispered dramatically. “Did you see that? She… she walked right past you. As if you were invisible. As if you were… a rock.” His voice cracked.

Doljjongie sat there in his palms, silent but heavy with judgment.

“She gave me kisses, yes,” Jeonghan continued, his eyes glistening with faux tears. “But you? Our son? Our baby? She abandoned you. While you were waiting so cutely for her all day.”

The kitchen light flicked on in the background, cupboards opening. You were probably humming, blissfully unaware of the betrayal you had just committed.

Jeonghan pressed his forehead against Doljjongie, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Mommy doesn’t even care.”

You returned from the kitchen with a sandwich in one hand and a bottle of juice in the other, humming happily. “Hannieee, I brought food. Wanna have a bite?”

Silence.

You blinked. Jeonghan, who usually jumped at free food like a cat spotting tuna, was sitting stiff on the couch. Arms crossed.

“Uh… Hannie?” you tried again, walking closer.

Jeonghan slowly turned his head away, nose in the air. “Don’t ‘Hannie’ me.”

Your jaw dropped. “What—did I do something?”

He scoffed, stroking the top of Doljjongie’s round head with extra tenderness. “Not to me. To him.”

It took you two whole seconds before you realized what he meant. “…Jeonghan. Are you seriously sulking because I didn’t say hi to—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” he snapped, eyes blazing as if you had cursed in church. He held Doljjongie higher, like Simba on Pride Rock. “Our son’s name is Doljjongie. And you ignored him. Ignored! After he sat here all day, waiting for his mommy to come home.”

You stared at him. At the plush. At your sandwich. “He’s a rock.”

Jeonghan gasped so loudly you almost dropped your food. “Take it back. TAKE. IT. BACK.”

When you didn’t answer right away, he turned his entire body sideways on the couch, clutching Doljjongie to his chest. “We don’t need her, baby. It’s just you and me now. Mommy doesn’t care.”

“Jeonghan, oh my god.”

He sniffled dramatically, rubbing his cheek against the plush. “Shhh. Don’t cry, Doljjongie. Daddy loves you. Daddy will never abandon you like Mommy did.”

You stood there with your sandwich, watching your 28-year-old boyfriend pretend a pet rock was sobbing in his arms.

Unbelievable.

That night, things were… tense.

Usually, Jeonghan would curl himself around you like a clingy vine, whispering nonsense until you fell asleep. But tonight? He turned his back to you.

Literally.

When you climbed into bed, he was already tucked in, Doljjongie sitting neatly between him and the side pillow, wrapped in a small blanket like some royal heir.

“Jeonghan?” you whispered cautiously.

Silence.

“…Are you seriously mad at me?”

He let out a sharp hmph and adjusted Doljjongie’s blanket. “Not mad. Just… disappointed.”

Your mouth fell open. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No,” he said firmly, stroking Doljjongie’s smooth surface with ridiculous care. “What’s unbelievable is that a mother can walk into her home and not even acknowledge her own child. He was waiting for you, Y/N. Do you know how many times he asked me if you were coming? ‘Where’s Mommy? When will Mommy be home?’”

You buried your face in your pillow. “Jeonghan, He doesn’t talk!”

He gasped as if you had just slapped him. “Don’t you dare put words in his mouth. Doljjongie talks to me. Right, baby?” He tilted his head, pretending to listen. “See? He says he’s heartbroken.”

You groaned, dragging your blanket over your head. “I can’t believe I’m jealous of a rock.”

Jeonghan turned slightly, just enough to shoot you a smug look over Doljjongie’s round little head. “Maybe if you gave him attention, you wouldn’t have to be.”

You peeked out from the blanket, eyes narrowing. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re on thin ice, Mommy.” He kissed Doljjongie’s ‘forehead’ and settled in. “Goodnight, baby. Daddy loves you.”

You swore you heard him whisper, ‘Not Mommy, though.’

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

and then? it was just a series of him being dramatic.

1. The Dinner Betrayal

You set the table for dinner, placing two plates down. Jeonghan arrives, carrying Doljjongie in his arms like royalty.

“Where’s his plate?” Jeonghan asks.

You freeze. “...You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He pulls out a chair and gently places Doljjongie on it. “My son will not sit here starving while you eat like a queen.”

You glare. “Jeonghan, he doesn’t eat—”

“Yes, he does!” He grabs an extra bowl, fills it with rice, and sets it in front of the plush. “Look how happy he is now.”

Doljjongie, silent and unmoving, stares into the void.

You stare too. At your 28-year-old boyfriend. “You’ve lost your mind.”

2. The Cuddling Rejection

You come home, flop onto the bed, and snuggle against Jeonghan. Normally he’d melt into you, but tonight he stiffens.

“Sorry. This spot’s taken,” he mutters.

You sit up—and nearly lose it. Doljjongie is nestled under the blanket, wearing one of Jeonghan’s beanies, tucked securely in Jeonghan’s arms.

“...Are you serious right now?”

Jeonghan strokes the plush. “Doljjongie had a nightmare. He needs Daddy’s comfort. Unlike some people, I don’t abandon my child.”

You throw your pillow at him.

You had enough.

You wanted your Jeonghan back.. your baby back.. also your parental rights.. BACK.

And then It started. THE FIGHT. Just another evening in the household.

You reached for Doljjongie where he was sitting on the couch. “Come to Mommy, baby.”

But Jeonghan’s hand shot out like lightning, snatching him back. His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me. You think you can just pick him up after abandoning him for days?”

Your jaw dropped. “Abandoning?"

He hugged Doljjongie to his chest. “He needed you. You weren’t there. no wait- you were. but guess what? you IGNORED him"

You stood, hands on hips, fire blazing in your eyes. “You don’t get to strip me of my parental rights just because I was busy! He’s my baby too!”

Jeonghan gasped like you’d cursed in church. “YOUR baby? YOUR baby?? Who stayed up late with him when he couldn’t sleep? Who sang him lullabies? Who tucked him in every night while you were scrolling TikTok? Me! All me!”

“He’s half mine, Jeonghan!” you yelled, pointing accusingly at Doljjongie. “Do you see this? Look at that cute, flat little face! That’s MY side of the family.”

“He looks nothing like you!” Jeonghan scoffed. “He’s all Yoon genes—round, flawless, handsome.”

You stomped your foot. “I want my rights back. At least joint custody.”

“Ha! As if. Over my dead body.” He spun dramatically, clutching Doljjongie like a Victorian woman protecting her pearls. “The court—aka me—has already ruled: full custody belongs to Daddy.”

“That’s illegal!”

He smirked. “So sue me.”

The room went silent except for your furious breathing and Jeonghan’s smug little humming as he rocked Doljjongie.

Finally, you snapped. “Fine. If you won’t give me rights… I’ll fight you in court.”

Jeonghan’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “Then may the best parent win.”

Doljjongie sat silently between you two, the most sought-after custody case in history.

The Court of Doljjongie — Case #001: Y/N vs. Yoon Jeonghan

Minghao, dressed in all black and wearing sunglasses indoors for dramatic effect, slammed a ruler against the coffee table. “Court is now in session. Defendant, plaintiff—don’t waste my time. I could be painting.”

You stood tall, clutching your “evidence” folder (which was really just a menu you found in the kitchen). “Your honor, I demand recognition of my parental rights. Doljjongie is my son too.”

Across the room, Jeonghan smirked, arm wrapped protectively around Doljjongie, who was sitting on a pillow like some royal witness. “Objection, your honor. She abandoned him. Walked in the house, kissed me, and didn’t even look at him. That’s neglect."

"Where are you lawyers" The judge demanded and just then-

Seungcheol marched in holding a notepad.

“I saw it, your honor,” [no he didn't, but guess what? so is the baby in question is just a rock] Seungcheol said solemnly, like he was testifying at a murder trial. “She went straight for Jeonghan. Not a word to Doljjongie. The poor kid’s eyes went blank.”

You gaped. “HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE EYES!”

Joshua strolled in, sipping a latte. “Honestly, Y/N would make a great mom. She gives snacks to everyone, even when Jeonghan hogs them. Doljjongie deserves a caring, snack-providing mother.”

“HA!” you shouted. “Thank you!”

Minghao rubbed his temples. “Can you both fight this case professionally.”

You dabbed at fake tears with a tissue, nodding passionately.

Joshua, your lawyer, straightened his tie (a tie he definitely borrowed from Jeonghan’s closet). He came forward, voice booming with righteous fury.

“Your honor, my client—Y/N—has been stripped of her rightful place as a mother. She has loved and nurtured Doljjongie since the day he was adopted into this family. To deny her rights now would be an act of cruelty against not only her—but against the very concept of motherhood!”

Seungcheol shot up from the other side of the “courtroom,” slamming his hand on the table so hard the soda cans rattled. “Objection, your honor!”

“On what grounds?” Minghao asked dryly.

“On the grounds that this so-called mother abandoned her child at a crucial moment!” Seungcheol barked, pointing a dramatic finger at you. “She walked through that door, showered Jeonghan with affection, and didn’t even look at her son. That is neglect! That is emotional abuse! That is…” he looked down at his notes and slammed the page, “…heartless!”

Gasps rippled through the courtroom (which was just from : Seungkwan, Vernon, Mingyu and Dino who were eating popcorn sitting on the couch).

“Objection to his objection!” Joshua countered, striding to the center with fire in his eyes. “My client is human. After a long day of work, she wanted to greet her partner first. That does not erase the years of love she has poured into Doljjongie’s life! Who bought him his first blanket? Who kissed him goodnight when Daddy was too busy gaming?” He slapped the table for effect. “She did!”

You sniffled loudly. Joshua slammed his hand on the table, eyes blazing.

“Without her, he is incomplete. A child cannot thrive on father’s sarcasm alone! He needs affection. He needs balance. He needs the guiding hand of a mother. To deny my client her rights is to rip apart a family, to shatter the heart of a child, and to commit the greatest injustice since… since Mingyu tried to rap!”

Gasps filled the room. Mingyu, from the couch: “HEY.”

Joshua bowed his head. “The choice is clear. Doljjongie belongs with his mother.”

He sat down, gently squeezing your shoulder like a true lawyer in a drama.

Then Seungcheol stood. He didn’t even need to button his blazer — his presence screamed authority. He adjusted his tie and stared down the courtroom.

Jeonghan wiped a fake tear, nodding solemnly.

He strode closer to Doljjongie, who sat silently in Jeonghan’s lap. “Jeonghan has never missed a bedtime story. He has never let his child go hungry. He has rocked him to sleep, sung him lullabies, and fought tirelessly for his well-being. He is not just a father. He is the only parent who has never failed Doljjongie.”

He slammed his fist down. “And the best… is Jeonghan.”

Seungcheol’s voice thundered, shaking the room:

“A mother’s love may be sweet. But a father’s loyalty? Unshakable. My client is the fortress this child needs. To hand Doljjongie over to Y/N would be reckless. Dangerous. An act of cruelty toward a child who deserves the best!”

Silence.

All eyes turned to Minghao, who massaged his temples, muttering in Mandarin about how ridiculous his friends were.

“This court has considered the arguments,” Minghao began, monotone. “The mother’s warmth. The father’s loyalty. The lawyers’ overacting. And after much thought…”

You and Jeonghan leaned forward, holding your breaths.

“…I have decided that full custody of Doljjongie will go to—” he slammed the ruler down, “—MINGYU.”

The room erupted.

“MINGYU?!” you and Jeonghan shouted in unison.

From the couch, Mingyu blinked mid-bite of a sandwich. “Wait… me??”

“Yes,” Minghao said flatly. “You’re tall, strong, and have nothing better to do. Court adjourned.” He stood and left with a mutter. "Can't believe they ruined my meditation time"

Mingyu awkwardly shuffled up, accepting Doljjongie like he’d just been handed a newborn baby. “Uh… hi, little guy. Guess I’m your new dad now.” He smiled proudly.

The smile lasted all of five seconds. Then Doljjongie slipped out of his big hands, bounced off his knee, and nearly rolled under the couch.

“MINGYU!” you and Jeonghan shrieked together, diving to rescue their baby.

"I AM SORRY"

[maskedbyghost]

Home Again

TW/CW: ex-husband Simon, kidnapping, violence, emotional heartbreak, sexual content

You left quietly, not because you thought it would be kinder, but because you didn’t know how to look him in the eye and say the words out loud without shattering into pieces yourself.

There was no fight, no screaming, no moment of dramatic confrontation, and maybe that was the cruelest part of it all, that the end of your marriage came not with fire, but with silence. You told yourself it wasn’t out of malice, that you weren’t doing it to hurt him, that you were simply trying to protect yourself from the endless ache that came from waiting, from watching the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months while he was always somewhere else, always on some mission you couldn’t even ask about.

You didn’t want to admit how heavy the loneliness had become, how hollow the house felt without him, how much of your life had become about holding yourself together while pretending you were fine.

So one day, instead of waiting for him to come home again, instead of waiting for another apology you already knew was rehearsed in his head before he even opened his mouth, you packed your bags in the quiet of the morning.

You didn’t slam doors or leave lights on; you folded your clothes neatly, zipped up your suitcase, and let the house keep its silence. The only sound you left behind was the faint scratch of pen against paper as you wrote a note that felt like a betrayal even as your hand shook over the words.

You told him you were sorry, you told him you wished it could have been different, and you told him that he deserved someone stronger, someone more patient than you had been, someone who could wait without feeling abandoned. You told him you needed someone who was present, who would sit beside you at the table and sleep next to you at night instead of disappearing into the shadows of a world you could never follow him into.

And then, with the finality that felt unreal even as you did it, you set the signed divorce papers next to that note, leaving them like a gift you never wanted to give, and you walked out without once looking back.

When the envelope came back to you weeks later, heavier with his signature but lighter with every hope you had clung to, you stared at it for hours. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t texted. He hadn’t shown up at your door demanding answers or begging you to stay. He hadn’t even asked why. All he had done was sign, as if the years you had given him could be erased with a pen, as if all the promises made in quiet whispers and dimly lit rooms could be broken without ceremony.

You had thought—no, you had prayed—that maybe he would fight. That maybe Simon Riley, the man who could endure anything, who could come home bloodied and broken but never defeated, would not let his marriage slip through his fingers so easily. You had imagined him knocking on your door in the middle of the night, imagined his voice rough and desperate as he begged you not to leave him, imagined that there was still something in him that was afraid to lose you.

But there was nothing. No knock. No call. No fight. Just the papers, signed, final, and cold in your hands. And in that moment, you felt something collapse inside of you, not in an explosive way, but like a slow implosion, a quiet folding in on yourself where all the hope you had been clutching simply dissolved.

You told yourself you had to move on, that you had made your choice and he had confirmed it by not chasing after you, but still, it hurt. It hurt in the kind of way that made every ordinary day feel heavier, the kind of way that followed you into bed at night when you lay alone with the ghost of his presence still pressed into the pillow next to you.

You carried the sadness like a second skin, trying to convince yourself that time would soften it, that maybe one day you would wake up and not wonder what he was doing or if he ever thought of you at all.

And yet, no matter how much you told yourself to let go, there was always that small, stubborn piece of you that whispered late at night, the part of you that still wanted to believe he would come, that he would fight for you, that he would prove that all those years together had meant something. But he never came. And that silence was somehow louder than any rejection could have ever been.

You tried to keep going, because what else was there to do when the papers had already been signed and the silence had already answered all the questions you were too afraid to ask.

Work became the anchor you clung to, the one thing that forced you out of bed in the mornings when the temptation to stay curled beneath the sheets, drowning in what-ifs, felt almost unbearable. You went through the motions the way people do when they’re trying not to fall apart: the coffee that of course never tasted the way it used to, the conversations with coworkers where you smiled in all the right places but felt nothing inside, the endless little tasks that filled up the hours but did nothing to fill up the hollowness.

Sometimes, though, it was harder to pretend. Walking through the supermarket with a basket swinging lightly from your hand, you would suddenly feel it, someting like an awareness, a shiver running down your spine, the undeniable sense of someone’s eyes fixed on you.

You would glance over your shoulder, scanning the rows of strangers, and for a split second, your heart would pound with hope that it was him, that Simon had finally come back to find you. In the park, too, when the air was cool and the shadows stretched long across the path, you would catch yourself turning around as if you could almost hear his boots on the gravel, as if you could feel the weight of his presence behind you the way you used to feel it in your home.

But every time, there was nothing. Just the ordinary hum of life continuing around you, strangers moving past, your imagination playing tricks on you. You told yourself it was wishful thinking, that ghosts don’t follow people in daylight, but some stubborn part of you always wondered if maybe he really had been there, watching from just out of reach, and if so, why he never stepped forward.

And then, one night, when sleep had finally claimed you after hours of restless tossing, you woke to the sensation of movement in your room. At first it was subtle, the faintest shift in the air. Your heart leapt instantly to him, because who else could it be?

You let yourself believe, just for that one fleeting moment, that Simon had finally come back, that he had crossed whatever distance and doubt had kept him away, and that now he was here, moving toward your bed, ready to lay down beside you and whisper that he was going to fight for the both of you after all. The hope swelled so fast it almost hurt.

But then rough hands closed around your neck, jolting you fully awake, and the world snapped into focus with terrifying clarity. There were two men, faces obscured by masks, shadows formed in the dim light of your room. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream at first, the pressure of that grip stealing every sound from your throat. When one of them spoke, his voice was low, filled with something triumphant: “We finally found you.” And then the words that froze your blood—“Riley’s girl.”

You thrashed against them, panic rising in your chest, the scream tearing out at last even as another set of hands caught your wrists, pinning you down with ease. You struggled, kicked, clawed, but they were stronger, trained, unshaken by your desperation. You heard them mutter to each other, fragments of sentences you could barely process, talk of Simon, of finally having a way to reach him, and the sound made your stomach drop with cold terror.

Your voice was hoarse from shouting, your body straining against theirs, but it was useless, the fight bleeding out of you with every second. Then came the cloth, pressed suddenly over your mouth, the sickly sweet chemical sting burning your nose and throat.

You tried to turn away, tried to hold your breath, tried to push it off with what little strength you had left, but the world was already tilting, your vision swimming, everything blurring at the edges. The last thing you felt was the merciless grip of their hands, and the last thing you heard was the muffled sound of their voices, and then the darkness surged up and swallowed everything.

When you came to, your head felt heavy, your body sluggish in that way that only comes from being forced under, and for a moment you couldn’t tell if you were awake or still caught somewhere in the grip of the drug.

But then the smell hit you, of damp wood, dust, and you realized you were no longer in your bedroom but in some abandoned place, in a building people had long since stopped caring about, the kind of place that whispered danger with every creak of the floorboards and every shifting shadow in the corners. Your wrists ached, bound tight behind your back, and the ropes dug into your skin no matter how you shifted against them.

In front of you stood the two men, masks discarded now that you were fully theirs, their faces cruel in the dim light seeping through broken windows.

One of them grinned at you, while the other paced like a predator waiting for the signal to strike. “We’ve been waiting for this,” the grinning one said, voice dripping with satisfaction, as if he’d already won before the game had even started. “Couldn’t ever get close to him. Ghost’s a slippery bastard, never leaves a trail. But you—” his eyes dragged over you—“you’re all the bait we needed.”

The other one laughed, low and bitter. “He’ll come for you. Man like him, with all that training, all that loyalty? He’ll burn the world to get you back. And when he does…” He mimed pulling a trigger, the sound he made with his tongue and teeth chilling. “That’s when we end him.”

You felt sick, not just with fear but with something tangled up in the ache that had already been haunting you long before tonight. You swallowed, your throat dry, and when you finally found your voice, it was smaller than you wanted it to be, but the words still cut through the space between you. “You’ve got the wrong person for that,” you muttered. “He doesn’t care about me.”

The man in front of you tilted his head, ready to mock, ready to dismiss, but before the words could leave his mouth, another voice, familiar and unmistakably close, spilled out from the shadows of the room. “Do you really believe that, love?”

The air seemed to collapse around you. For a second, you forgot how to breathe, forgot how to even blink, because that voice—his voice—was here, in this place. Simon. You turned your head sharply, eyes straining in the gloom, searching for him, needing to see him, and even before your gaze found him, the two men had already stiffened, panic flashing across their faces.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

They thought they had control, thought everything was going according to their careful plan, but what they didn’t know, what you hadn’t known, was that Simon had never really left you.

Ever since signing those papers, he had been there, moving in the shadows, not daring to show his face because he thought you needed the space you’d asked for, because he thought crowding you would only push you further away.

He had been following you quietly, unseen but never far, protecting you in silence the way he always had, and tonight of all nights, when an emergency had dragged him briefly from his watch, he had returned just in time to find the wreckage left behind in your home, the signs of your absence, and he had hunted until he found you.

And now he was here.

The men scrambled, hands darting toward the weapons strapped at their sides, but Simon was already moving, his presence shifting from shadow to storm in a blink.

The first one barely managed to raise his gun before Simon’s blade cut through the air, the sound sharp, dropping him to the floor in a spray of blood.

The second let out a roar, pulling his weapon free, but Simon was faster, his strength precise and merciless, his movements honed to kill. You could only sit there, tied and helpless, heart hammering in your chest as the world turned into chaos before your eyes.

The struggle lasted only moments, short enough that you almost doubted it had really happened when the silence rushed back in, broken only by your own unsteady breathing. Both men lay still on the ground, their threat ended before they had even fully realized their mistake.

And there he was, Simon, standing in the wreckage, the flickering light catching on the sharp lines of his mask, his chest heaving with the remnants of the fight, and for a moment you could do nothing but stare, because no matter how much pain or anger had come before, in this moment he was your savior, and he had come for you.

Simon turned to you at last, and his voice was nothing like the violence that had just unfolded. It was soft, impossibly gentle, carrying a warmth you hadn’t heard in so long. “Hi, darling.”

Your throat felt like it was closing, the flood of everything, fear, relief, disbelief, choking you until the only thing you could force out was his name, barely more than a whisper. “Simon.”

He was already kneeling in front of you, his big hands moving carefully over the ropes that held your wrists, fingers surprisingly steady as he untied each knot, working with a patience that almost broke you more than the cruelty of your captors.

And then you were free, the sting of circulation rushing back into your arms, making you wince, but before the pain could settle you were already in his arms, your body folding into him like you had been waiting for this exact moment for longer than you could admit. The sobs broke out before you could stop them, quiet at first and then uncontrollable, shaking through you as you clung to him, to your Simon, and he only held you tighter.

His forehead pressed gently against the crown of your head as he kissed you there, his voice low, holding you when you felt like you were about to shatter. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

You buried yourself into the warmth of him, gripping at his shirt like if you let go he would disappear all over again, and he didn’t try to pull back, didn’t try to shush the tears out of you. He just scooped you into his arms, carrying you out of that place without once looking back at the men he had left behind on the floor.

The night air hit your skin as he stepped outside, but his arms never loosened around you, holding you close like you were the only thing that mattered.

He placed you carefully in the passenger seat of his car, tucking you in with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the violence you’d just seen him unleash, and when he slid behind the wheel, he didn’t say much else. His hand found yours, wrapping around it firmly, thumb brushing slowly over your knuckles as if to remind you every second that he was real, that he was here, and you clung back.

It wasn’t until the streets became familiar again that you realized he wasn’t driving you to your own place, the small apartment you had tried to make feel like home after walking away. He was taking you back to the house you had once shared, the house you had left behind along with him.

Your heart thudded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You only watched the way his hand stayed locked with yours, the way his profile was lit in the glow of passing streetlights, and you let the silence stretch, because maybe words weren’t needed right now.

When the car finally stopped, he was already out before you could move, opening your door and lifting you back into his arms without asking, carrying you across the threshold like the years between then and now had never happened.

The house smelled the same, felt the same, and as he took you through the hallway to the bathroom, your eyes caught on the little things that stopped you cold: the books you had left on the shelf untouched, your favorite mug still sitting in the kitchen, the sweater you had once draped over the arm of the couch still folded there neatly. All the things you hadn’t taken with you were still here, exactly as you had left them, waiting like he had never been able to let them go.

Your chest tightened with the weight of it, with the realization that maybe he hadn’t let you go either.

In the bathroom, he set you gently on the edge of the tub before turning on the tap, adjusting the water with the same carefulness he had used in untying you, checking the temperature with his hand before letting it fill. His mask was still on, but his movements gave away everything, the way he laid out a towel, the way his fingers lingered on your shoulder as if afraid you might vanish if he let go.

When he helped you out of your clothes, he did it without rushing you, and not looking at you like you were fragile, but holding you like you were precious. The warmth of the bath soothed against your skin as he guided you in, his hand steadying you until you were settled. He moved to kneel beside the tub, rolling his sleeves back, reaching for the bottle of shampoo you had left there months ago, untouched and still waiting.

And when his hands moved through your hair, lathering gently, rinsing with care, you closed your eyes and let yourself feel everything, feel the terror of the night, the ache of the past months, the truth that you could no longer ignore. He was still here. He had always been here.

After the bath, Simon wrapped you in a towel, careful and patient as if every movement had to prove that he wasn’t going to let anything hurt you again. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and took the hairdryer from its spot in the drawer where you’d left it months ago, plugging it in and running his fingers gently through your damp hair as he worked, the low hum filling the quiet space between you.

It was such an ordinary thing, something you had lived through countless times before, but in this moment it felt like more than that... it felt like a vow, like a reminder that no matter how much had fractured, he still knew how to take care of you.

When your hair was dry, he set the dryer aside and pulled out one of his shirts from the drawer, holding it out to you without saying anything. You knew he remembered. You had always slept in his shirts, drowning yourself in the comfort of them, and even after you left you had taken a few with you, clutching them at night like you were trying to trick yourself into believing he was still there.

Sliding into it now, feeling the soft fabric against your skin, it was like stepping into a piece of your old life, the part of it you had never really let go of.

After he changed his clothes, he guided you beneath the sheets, his hand firm on your back, and then he lay down beside you, turning so he could face you in the dark.

Neither of you spoke at first. He reached out, brushing his knuckles gently along your cheek, and when you opened your eyes to look at him, there were already tears gathering in your lashes. He leaned closer, his thumb wiping softly beneath your eye, his touch almost trembling with restraint.

“I love you,” he said finally, his voice raw, like it had been caged in his chest for months and was only now breaking free. “I thought letting you go was what you needed, that it was the only way I could give you peace, give you the space you were asking for. I thought if I showed up, if I begged you to stay, it would’ve only made it harder for you. But tonight—” His voice cracked slightly, and he pressed his forehead against yours, breathing you in. “Tonight I realized I can’t do that again. I can’t lose you like that, not ever. You can never leave me again, you hear me? You can’t walk out of this house without me. Baby, I was so fucking scared when I didn’t find you at your place. I thought—” He cut himself off, exhaling hard, as if the thought itself was too much to carry.

He kissed your forehead, then the bridge of your nose, then the corners of your eyes, catching every tear before it could fall. “I love you more than life itself. These past months without you, they were the worst I’ve ever lived through. You don’t know what it did to me, having you close but not being able to reach for you, not being able to hold you. I could never live without you. Never.”

You were crying openly now, your chest shaking with it, but Simon didn’t flinch away. He chased every tear with his mouth, soft kisses pressed against your cheeks, your jaw, your temple, as if he could kiss the pain away.

You reached for him then, your hand curling around his neck, pulling him down into you, and when your lips finally met his, it was desperate and trembling at first, then slow, tender, a make-out session that stretched into something more. He kissed you like he was memorizing you all over again, like he was promising with every slow drag of his mouth against yours that he wasn’t going anywhere, not this time, not ever.

The kiss deepened until there was no space left between you, your tears mixing with his as you clung to him, and every brush of his lips felt like it carried months of unspoken words.

His hand slid gently into your hair, cradling your head as though you were fragile, while his other hand traced down your back, pulling you closer until your chest pressed firmly against his. The world outside no longer mattered; there was no abandoned house, no kidnappers, no silence of the past months, just you and him, breathing the same air, needing nothing else.

When his lips left yours, it was only to scatter soft kisses across your jaw, your cheeks, the delicate skin beneath your ear, his breath warm as he whispered against you. “I love you. I love you so much. I’m not giving up on us, not now, not ever.” Each declaration was quiet but sure, the words wrapping around you like a promise, and you felt your heart break and mend at the same time with every one of them.

You tugged at him, holding him tighter, desperate to keep him close, and he moved above you with patience that only came from years of discipline. He didn’t rush, didn’t push, just kissed you slowly as if he had all the time in the world to remind you that you were his.

When you felt him slide inside you, it was careful, his forehead pressed to yours as if he needed to see every flicker of emotion in your eyes. You gasped softly, your body trembling beneath his, and he kissed the sound right off your lips, whispering again, “I’ve got you, darling. I’ll always have you.”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him impossibly close, and the way your body welcomed his felt like coming home. The two of you moved together slowly, not frantic or hurried but gentle, rocking in a rhythm that was more about connection than release.

Every thrust was measured, tender, meant to make you feel loved rather than claimed. Simon’s lips never stopped moving, pressing kisses against your mouth, your temple, the corners of your eyes, and between each kiss he whispered words that melted straight into you. “I love you… I love you more than anything… I can’t lose you again… you’re everything to me.”

Your own voice answered in the only way it could, his name slipping from your lips over and over again, soft and desperate, a prayer breathed into his mouth, into his neck, into the dark around you. “Simon… Simon…” You said it like it was the only word that mattered, and he answered you with more kisses, more promises, his pace slow and steady, as if making love to you was the only way to prove he was real and he was here.

Tears streaked down your cheeks, but they weren’t only from sadness; they were from the overwhelming truth of finally being held again, of finally knowing you hadn’t been forgotten, that you were still his. Simon kissed them away as quickly as they fell, his mouth moving over your skin, murmuring between each kiss, “No more goodbyes… no more running… you’re mine, darling. You’ll always be mine.”

You held him tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him, keeping him close as your bodies rocked together in perfect, unhurried sync. And for the first time in so long, you let yourself believe it, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that maybe this was the beginning of finding each other again.

His movements stayed slow, every steady thrust sinking deep as though he wanted you to feel every ounce of devotion he’d buried inside him. His forehead rested against yours, his lips brushing your mouth with each breath, and he didn’t stop whispering, not for a second.

“You’re my whole world, love… you’re everything to me.” His voice was filled with so much tenderness it made your chest ache. “I’m never leaving you again, do you hear me? I’ll spend the rest of my life proving how much I love you.”

You tightened your arms around him, holding him so close it felt like you could fuse into one, and every time he pushed into you, your soft moan of his name spilled into his mouth. “Simon… I love you Si…” His name was a prayer, a plea, a vow, and it only made him kiss you deeper, slower, as if he needed to answer every broken part of you with his lips.

His hand cupped your face, his thumb stroking tenderly at your cheek as his hips rocked against yours. “I’ve got you, darling… I’ll always have you. You’re safe with me. You’re mine, forever mine.” His words grew more urgent, but his pace never faltered, still slow and deliberate, as if he wanted to draw out every second, to make this last.

Your bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, the tension building with each gentle roll of his hips. He buried his face in your neck, pressing warm, shaky kisses against your skin, whispering between them, “I love you… I don’t deserve you, but I’ll never stop trying… you’re everything, baby.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him tighter, your legs locking around his waist as you whispered his name over and over, breathless, trembling, your voice breaking when you said it. The sound pulled a low groan from him, his pace faltering for just a second as the wave began to crest between you both.

“Come with me, love… stay with me,” he begged softly, his lips brushing yours, his eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in existence. “Don’t let go, not now, not ever. I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”

The heat coiled tighter, your body clinging to his, and then it hit, soft but overwhelming, your release washing through you in slow, shuddering waves as his name spilled from your lips in a broken whisper. Simon followed almost instantly, his breath catching against your mouth as he pressed deeper into you, a raw, muffled “I love you” spilling out again and again as he came with you, his whole body trembling as if he’d finally let go of months of pain.

Even as the aftershocks faded, he refused to let you go. His arms wrapped around you firmly, holding you against his chest, his face buried in your hair. “I’m here, I’m here… I’m never letting you go again,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but so full of love it made your heart ache.

And in the quiet that followed, the two of you stayed tangled together, still joined, still holding on, whispering each other’s names like the only words that mattered.

Simon was gentle as he finally eased out of you, murmuring soft apologies even though there was nothing to be sorry for. He didn’t leave your side for a second, guiding you carefully to the bathroom, steadying you with his arm like you were the most precious thing in the world. He cleaned you up with patient hands, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your temple, your hairline, whispering between each touch, “I’ve got you, love… just lean on me.”

When you were settled back in bed, tucked under the sheets, he climbed in beside you, immediately pulling you close so your cheek rested against his chest. His heart thudded strong and steady under your ear, his arm wrapping tight around you as if he was terrified to ever let go again.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head and exhaled a long, shaky breath. “Tomorrow,” he whispered softly, his voice low, “we’ll talk about everything. Our marriage, what we need to fix, what I need to change. Whatever you ask of me, love, I’ll do it. Even if you want me to quit my job, I’ll walk away. I’m not giving up on us, not ever. You just… tell me what you need, and I’ll make it right.”

You tilted your head up slightly, meeting his gaze in the dim light. His eyes were tired but full of love, brimming with all the things he hadn’t said until tonight. You reached up to touch his face, your thumb brushing his cheek. “Just stay, Simon,” you whispered, your voice soft, tender. “That’s all I need. Just stay.”

Something in his chest cracked open at that, and he kissed you once, slowly, before pulling you closer again. “Always,” he promised against your hair. “Always, my love.”

The weight of the day, of the tears and the love you had poured into each other, finally gave way to exhaustion. Wrapped in his arms, with his heartbeat steady beneath your ear and his warmth surrounding you, you felt safe. For the first time in so long, you both let yourselves drift into sleep, clinging to each other as if you’d finally come home.

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @gutsofgod @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog @foxintheferns @trulovekay @ruleroftides @rose37373 @succulambb @havoc973 @jajouska @fruitymoonbeams-blog @cece2608 @starryylies @silmarilniky @venavanup @lostintransist @m00nl1gh4 @fertilise-me @blush-haze @sigynxlokiwifelover

[acosmicbee]

The Invitation

(Inspired by the Twilight Zone episode 'Children's Zoo'. Really cool episode, I'd recommend you check it out!)

The invitation sat heavily in your hands. It was written on thick card stock, the high-quality kind used only for fancy prints and the most special of letters. If you accepted, it would change your life.

You were tired of the never-ending arguing that filled the small apartment, the smell of cigarette smoke, and the always-empty pantries. You just wanted someone who would pay attention to you for once, someone who would love you unconditionally.

You ran your fingers over the letter again, contemplating the words. You knew what it entailed, you knew what would happen. Your friend Stacy had pressed the letter into your hands before she stopped coming to school. Her parents had decided to homeschool her instead, wanting to spend more time around her.

So you pulled on your finest outfit. The only pair of jeans you owned that weren't covered in holes, a cream colored shirt that was only a little stained, and a black windbreaker that was too big for you.

Your parents didn't pay you any mind as you slipped on your ratty sneakers, your only pair of shoes. They were too busy yelling about who was where last night to notice when you grabbed your backpack, despite it being a Saturday, as you left.

You found your own way, carefully crossing streets and taking a few buses using your bus pass from school. It was a long journey in the eyes of a child, and you were constantly checking the letter to make sure you'd read it right.

The directions you'd gotten from the library, carefully writing down as best you could how to get there. Your hands were trembling in a mix of anxiety and anticipation as you got off the last bus and crossed the two streets to get where you needed to go.

The building looked fancy from the outside, with murals of happy families and colorful backgrounds plastering the walls. A doorman held the door for you as you entered, an encouraging smile on his face. One of the ladies at the front desk kneeled down to accept the letter you held out for her.

"I see, dear. And you got this from a friend?" She asked kindly, tucking the letter away. When you nodded, she smiled, stepping out from behind the desk. "Amazing. Let me show you where you'll wait. Do you want me to hold on to your bag for you?"

You nervously handed over your backpack, which she tucked away behind the desk. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Y/N..." You mumbled, watching as one of the other receptionists wrote your name on a tag, which they tied onto your backpack. There were only a couple of other bags behind the desk, but you barely had time to look before you were being escorted away.

"Before we get you set up in one of our rooms, we're going to perform a quick health assessment and ask you some questions, okay? These might be kind of scary questions or make you feel uncomfortable, so you don't have to answer if you don't want to." The lady said kindly.

You already knew about this part from what Stacy had told you, so you just followed along behind her. The doctor's room looked kind of like the nurse's office at school, with white walls adorned with child-friendly posters and pictures.

The doctor was nice as she examined you, gently rubbing some cream onto a bruise you had gotten during recess at school. She did ask a bunch of questions about home, but most of them you could answer. At the very end, she let you pick out a lollipop.

"You were such a brave kid, Y/N. I'm sure you'll find exactly who you're looking for. Or, better yet, they'll find you." She said as she escorted you back to the receptionist.

"Thank you, Dr.Liza. I'll go get this one settled, and then we can take our lunch together." The receptionist smiled, gently taking your hand as she led you away. You noticed how the walls became more colorful as she walked, rainbows and animals decorating them.

"Do you want to color or read, Y/N? You can always change your mind later."

"I want to color, please." She led you to a room with a little paintbrush on the doorknob. Inside the room was a small craft table with coloring books and pieces of paper covering it. Gentle music was playing from speakers in the ceiling, and a man was sitting at the table with a smile. Across from the table was a giant mirror that spanned the whole wall.

"Y/N, this is Peter. He will be waiting with you. If you have any questions or need anything, he can help you." She said kindly. You waved goodbye to her as she left the room.

Peter was really nice. He wasn't loud, and he didn't yell at you. Instead, he asked about what you were coloring and even helped you pick out colors. He had just brought you some juice and a sandwich when a gentle chime echoed through the room.

"I'll be right back, Y/N. You just eat your food and keep coloring, okay?" He said, gently rubbing your head as he left again. You knew what happened next. Stacy had told you all about the magic mirror and how they would come after the chime.

True enough, a few minutes later, Peter led a woman into the room. She looked to be in her early 30s, a nervous but excited expression on her face as she sat down in the chair Peter had been using.

"Hi there, honey. My name is Lucille, but I go by Lucy. What's yours?" Her voice was smooth and sweet with the slightest hint of a southern drawl.

"I'm Y/N." Your voice shook a little as your hands clenched the colored pencil you were holding. This could be it, your second chance.

"That's such a pretty name, sweetheart. What are you drawing?" You held up the coloring book you were working on so she could see. She seemed genuinely interested in what you were doing, praising your artwork.

"Miss Lucy, I can help facilitate this next part if you need assistance," Peter gently interjected from where he stood by the door. When she nodded, he stepped forward.

"Y/N, Miss Lucy is interested in adopting you. As such, we will conduct a compatibility survey to make sure you're entering a home that will be just right for you."

The next half hour consisted of a ton of questions. You were asked about everything from your favorite foods and any allergies to your favorite subject in school, and whether you'd be okay with having an older sibling.

"I adopted twin boys from here a few years ago, so you'd have two big brothers. Their names are Ethan and Benny." Lucy said. You didn't mind the sound of that. In the stories you read, big brothers always protected their little siblings.

"I live a couple of hours away from here, so you wouldn't be able to go to your school anymore. I personally prefer homeschool, but if you really want to go to actual school, we could make something work." That was also fine by you, you didn't really like school much.

By the end of all the questions, you were completely exhausted, but you'd made up your mind. When Peter looked to you for your answer, you gave a definitive nod, which was then followed by a yawn.

Lucy looked like she wanted to explode with happiness, but instead settled for gently coaxing you into her lap as she leaned down to whisper in your ear. "Oh, honey, don't you worry. I'll make sure you're all safe and sound at home. The boys said they'd make a cake, just in case. Doesn't that sound perfect?"

You just nodded, falling asleep in her lap as Peter went through the protocols and paperwork with her.

"As I'm sure you're well aware, seeing as you've successfully adopted through us before, we expect full confidentiality. The child is not to be put in any situation where they may be recognized and taken from your care."

"I know. Trust me, this little angel is coming straight home where they're gonna stay." Lucy said, her arms wrapped around you as she held you close. "Poor thing is even smaller than my boys were... I'll stop somewhere on the way home and get them some food."

"I'll give you a copy of the results from their checkup earlier. Remember that in the case of illness, you can take them back here, and one of our doctors will treat them. We're open 24/7, so just give us a call to prepare for you."

"Thank you. This one isn't leaving my sight for a long time." She said, kissing your head as she finished with the last document. "That's all the paperwork done, can we go?"

"Of course. I do believe that they brought a bag with them, so just stop by the receptionist on the way out to pick it up. They should also have the printout of the medical records ready for you."

With that, Lucy stood up, humming as she carried you in her arms. After a quick stop at the reception desk to grab your bag and records you were being tucked into the backseat of her car, a pillow nestled between your head and the window.

You'd be so happy at her home, even if she wouldn't let you leave for a while. Not only did she have to wait for all the missing persons posters to die down, but she was a possessive and overprotective mother at heart. Ethan and Benny had only recently proven themselves capable of running errands to the store alone, and they were almost 16.

For now, she wouldn't worry about you growing up. After all, she was more focused on spoiling you and keeping you safe. It was time for you to go home.

[corrodedheartsclub]

The Fans Want To Know

1267 words. Read on Ao3.

The blonde interviewer had a plastered-on smile that did quite reach her eyes. All the magazine reporters he talked to reminded Eddie of invasion of the body snatchers. They look human, but they feel so hollow.

“So we’re here today with rockstar, heartthrob, and pop culture phenomenon, Eddie Munson. Thank you for joining us today!” Her cheery tone was well-enunciated and just a bit too loud.

He shifted in his seat, glancing between her and the camera across from them. “Yeah of course. Thanks for having me.”

Eddie squared his shoulders and tried to push back his discomfort. It was never like this on stage. There he felt like he was on top of the world. Here he felt like a specimen under a microscope. His bandmates also got in his head about clear and direct answers. They’ll twist anything you give them. Gareth compared them to genies, looking for any wiggle room to exploit. As far as he should be concerned, this woman was out for blood.

“Great, we just have a few questions for you today, and I think we just want some insight into you - who the person behind the icon really is.” She crinkled her nose as she emphasized ‘really.’ Playful, disarming.

“Yeah, you know, I never try to be anything but who I am, so fire away.” He matched her grin, and clasped his hands over his lap, rings clinking together.

“Well, what was Eddie Munson like before the fame and fortune? You know, we hear you’re from Hawkins, Indiana. That’s off the beaten path, isn’t it? Did you rule the school?” She raised a brow.

Did she think he was ashamed of his home town? She said it like she got confidential information.

“Yeah, I’m from Hawkins, and yes, it’s not a big city. The whole band’s from there. Well- Freak and I moved there around the middle school years, but we all basically grew up there. I was spending my summers there from the start. And no- I did not rule the school. I was a freaky metalhead that ran the DnD club. I suppose I still am a freaky metalhead.” Eddie laughed to himself.

“Oh? So, am I correct to assume you’ve always been the rebellious type?”

He tucked his chin and smiled. “You can say that.”

“Is there anyone from your hometown you wish you could see now, show them how far you’ve come?”

Eddie shrugged. “I keep in touch with the people who matter to me. I have no reason to dwell on pointless grudges. It’s all in the past.”

Maybe he’d love to punch Jason Carver in the face. Or Billy Hargrove. She doesn’t need to know that.

“So, you’ve got more old friends outside of the band? Tell me about them.”

“Like I said, I ran the DnD club, so I met a few of my favorite people through there. Us nerds gotta stick together.”

“Wow, I never would have guessed rockstar, Eddie Munson, was so into DnD. And you still play?” Her expression pinched.

“Yup. There’s a lot of references to it in our music actually. Our fans that get it know.” He winked at the camera.

She nodded slowly. He could tell she was searching for her bombshell.

“So, we’ve heard about some of your favorite people. Tell me, is there anyone special in your life?” Her eyes twinkled.

So, we’re going there. Eddie stopped himself from groaning out loud.

“Can’t say there is.” Eddie chose the words carefully.

They’re the same words he always used when people asked him if he was seeing anyone. His record label might not approve of him being out and Steve might not be ready to face the scrutiny of the media, but nothing will make Eddie directly lie about being with Steve. He’s the most important thing in Eddie’s life.

His wording had been the topic of debate. That and his lack of a public romantic interest. But he wasn’t a pop-star, so his niche had left his love life mostly out of public discussion.

Until.

“Can I ask, who is Steve Harrington to you?” Her eyes were sharp and fixed on him. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She looked smug.

His blood ran cold, shoulders stiffened.

“What?” Was all he can choke out.

“Steve Harrington. He went to Hawkins High School at the same time as you. Our sources tell us he was affectionately dubbed ‘King Steve’ due to his popularity and the weight of his family name locally. He currently works as a substitute teacher in Indianapolis, where you currently live. We have a source that informed us that Steve often accompanies Corroded Coffin on tour, even going as far as being on the bus regularly with the band. So, Eddie, who is Steve Harrington to you?” The friendly demeanor was gone. She stared at him like prey, ready to tear him to shreds.

“I…”

This was going to blow up their lives. Steve wouldn’t be able to have his normal life outside of them anymore.

Eddie hated her. Hated whoever her source was. Hated this whole system that profited off of ruining people.

“Fuck you.” He narrowed his eyes.

She looked gleeful, but she quickly masked it with faux concern. “Mr. Munson, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”

He was on his feet, tugging the microphone out from under his shirt. “I’m done.” He dropped it on the ground as he walked out of the studio.

Eddie ignored the staff trying to urge him to stay. He walked straight to his car, cursing loudly once he was alone.

He went straight home. Fuck the interview. Fuck the tabloids. Fuck the label. He had to see Steve.

Eddie walked into their apartment and quickly found Steve in the kitchen. His boyfriend perked up at the sight of him but his brows quickly knit together.

“Eddie, what’s wrong- oof!” Steve braced himself as Eddie barely broke stride before wrapping himself around the man.

“Stevie, I’m so sorry.” His voice was tight.

“Hey, Eddie, look at me. What happened? You have the interview today, right? Talk to me.” Steve’s hands were in Eddie’s hair, gently comforting him, but his voice was edged with concern.

“They knew about you. I’m so sorry. I know you weren’t ready for all of this. They completely ambushed me. I’m so sorry.” Eddie gripped Steve tight. They’d been together for years now. They have a life, but was Eddie worth all this?

Steve stiffened a bit in his arms. “Oh. Fuck.” He bristled.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” Steve’s voice softened. “Hey, look at me.”

Eddie untucked his face from Steve’s shoulder slowly. He was met with the smiling face of the man he loved. He always made things better, no matter what.

“Don’t be sorry. We knew this would probably happen eventually. It’s not on you,” Steve assured him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Eddie whined. “This is gonna mess up so much for you. All because of me.”

Steve gently took his face in his hands. “I knew what I was signing up for. We’ll figure it out.”

He could melt right then and there.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Steve laughed, “Don’t be stupid. It was always meant to be us.”

Eddie leaned into Steve’s hands. “Everyone’s gonna want a piece of you.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, probably. But I’m kinda excited to finally get to tell the world you’re mine.”

That tipped him over the edge. Eddie surged forward, crashing their lips together in a bruising kiss.

Yeah, maybe he can be excited too.