#AND LOOK AT MIND SMILING. LOOK AT HIM WITH HIS LITTLE HAPPY GRIN!!!

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari rubbed her eyes with a soft sniffle and took a breath. Hawks words and presences had helped her calm down. Sure the pain still lingered, but it didn't hurt as much. "I... I wanna keep going. No, I need to keep going." She chirped softly after a moment. "I can't just stop now. Not yet." She informed and turned back to look over more hero logs for her father.

Training logs showing his improvement, journals that dated before Kari's birth, interviews, news reports, and so on. Eventually Kari stopped on a journal entry dated a few weeks after Kari's birth.

"August 5, I brought Kari home for the first time. She's gained a bit of weight which is good. She's such an active little girl. Kitearo was immediately so protective despite how he acted before. I guess seeing how small she was and having processed what happened helped him a lot. Therapy has been a huge help for all of them. Shade us still sneaking top shelf books when I'm not looking, last time I saw her reading Moby Dick to Kari and immediately stepped in. We made an agreement that if she didn't read these to Kari then I'd allow her to read certain top shelf books with supervision. She's enjoying spending time with Kari, reading her books while she's is in Shade's lap. Boom and Beats always love to play with Kari, running around happily with toys and including Kati in their games. Flo shows Kari a ton of different plants, mainly flowers. Fino likes to have Kari ride on his back while in a random animal form. I feel like these kids will super close when they're older. Sure they'll get into arguments and maybe even fights, but thats life. I'm just happy it looks like things are gonna be alright. Still waiting for Boom and Beats to get their quirks, I'm not sure what they'll be since Mikomi's quirk is so different. She never explained why, but I have a rough understanding. Either way, I've made up my mind and I'll help with hero work in some other way, but I'll be retiring as a pro hero before Kari's first birthday. I can't risk it right now, there is too much at stake. I'll keep doing my best for them. - Lynx Himura."

Kari gave a soft smile then went to type in her mother's hero name and began looking through the hero logs there. Eventually she came across an interview, roughly around the same time as Lynx, though it was off by a few days.

"Hello, thank you for meeting with us, Angelic."

"Of course, I'm glad I could make it work. Been super busy and all." Mikomi laughed. Her eyes, while a different color, were roughly the same shape as Kari's. Though Kari's were a bit more pointed and Mikomi's slightly more rounded. But it was easy to see the resemblance.

"Yea, you've been very busy it seems. Your already the number six hero and you're still pretty young. Any insight as to why you're working do hard?"

"Ah, going for that question already. Fair enough. Well, it's kinda has to do with my quirk being so easy to... adapt to different situations so I can help out in many areas. So I'm able to be noticed more often and so on. That and I just like helping. It feels right to me. Don't get me wrong the money is nice too but I'm not wanting for anything. I'm actually only using what I need and saving the rest for future emergencies or plans."

"You planning on starting a family?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'll never let that information slip. I'm aiming high after all. If I have kids and I'm in the top three, their lives could be in danger so I'm keeping stuff like that close to my chest." Mikomi looked to the camera and smiled knowingly almost, in Kari's direction. Kari shivered a bit.

"Thats fair," the reporter hummed off camera and Mikomi looked back at the reported. "Now, about your quirk--"

"Sorry but I'm not divulging information about my quirk either." Mikomi was quick to interrupt. "I know it is different and rather weird but I'd like to keep that to myself as well."

"Ah, I see. Well, what about your relationship with Redone?"

"Oh, I--" Mikomi blushed a bit with a grin. "Well, it's a long story but after moving back from America, I had to go cuz of my mom's job, we reconnected in highschool and haven't really been apart since. He's really sweet and caring. We've been together for a while actually."

"Can we plan on a hero wedding anytime soon?"

"Ya know, I watched his interview last week and I tried asking him when he came by with the sweet buns. He just laughed and told me he'd propose when the time is right. I'm not sure when but I'm sure everyone will be made aware eventually." Mikomi chuckled softly. The interview went on, more questions, some dodged some answered. But all in all Kari got a good feel for Mikomi's personality. Kind but firm, not willing to take bullshit but not rude either. Stands her ground and proud of it.

Kari smiled and went on to find some missions, training logs, and a family tree. Kari widened her eyes. There she was with her siblings, her mother, her father, even her grandparents. There was Maica, Core, Core's father. Her whole family.

Looks like Lynx had two younger brothers one of which was deceased while the other was still alive but no where in Japan and no contact information listed and he looked to be estranged. Lynx's parents were listed too though his father passed away the same year as one if his brothers while Lynx's mother passed two years before Kari was born. Kari frowned, concluding an accident happened that took Lynx's father and brother. She shook it off and opened up a journal from her mother, taking a breath.

"I'm simply writing this so it is on record in case something happens to me and one of my children develops my quirk-" Kari perked up a bit. "I don't know if it'll come to that but dad said it's better safe than sorry. He probably knows something since we share a quirk and all. Thats besides the point. I plan on having this under heavy lock and key until I die or if one of my children requests it or whatever. I'm not the best with formal stuff but I'll try my best. Either way, I am Mikomi Himura. Mother to Kitearo Himura, wife to Lynx Himura. My quirk is called All of the Above. It is a highly adaptive quirk, able to integrate any other quirk upon seeing it, though it takes time. My DNA is very unstable for lack of a better way of putting it. My son's quirk is vastly different to mine. Well, it's going to be, he hasn't developed it yet but I already know. Sir Nighteye's quirk has been super helpful in calming the nerves of a new mother. For the most part at least, but I'm keeping that close to my chest for now."

Kari shivered a bit, having a feeling she knew what Mikomi was referring to but kept reading.

"As for the specifics of my quirk, I'm able to use a quirk I've copied with in a certain length of time after seeing it, depending on the type. A week or two for emmiter quirks, two to three weeks for transformation and accumulation quirks, and four weeks for mutation quirks. I don't just copy the quirk, but a snap shot of the person as well for lack of a better way of putting it. It can be refreshed if I see that person again but yea. Ugh this is more difficult to explain than I thought. Uh, the reason there is a snap shot is because I can call on it to help learn quirks more effectively, they take over my body and I learn through muscle memory. The quirks I have copied as well as the snap shots of the people will be passed on to which ever of my children inherits my quirk but those quirks will be locked until certain things are met, I'm not sure how that all works. Dad hasn't explained it and I haven't figured it out. It's weird to explain and better to show but I don't plan on dying so ill be able to show my kid when the time comes. Regardless, this is just a precaution and I don't plan on needing it. With that I'm closing this journal."

Kari blinked, moving to look through more journal entries. Some where around the time she was pregnant with her siblings. Then another caught Kari's eye.

"It's July 20th today. I'm feeling pretty weak from this pregnancy. Little Kari is really sapping me, but that's fine. I've had six kids before her so I'll be okay. But I'm not gonna lie this one has been rougher than all the others so I'm a bit worried. My due date isn't for another two month so it's fine."

"July 25th, something isn't right. I asked Lynx to take me to the hospital to have a check up. I might need emergency surgery. Kari might be born sooner than expected."

After that journal entry Kari found an obituary for her mother. "Number 3 hero dies for unspecified reasons." It lists the funeral date as well as other information.

Kari sighed softly, going over to Hawks and clinging to him, shaking and crying in weak sobs. She just needed a moment to process it all. "I... I know it's not my fault... but a part... A part if me still... still hurts." Kari hiccuped, nuzzling into Hawks' leg, just letting it all out. "I wanna know her. Who would she have been? What would be going on right now if she were alive? Why did she have to die cuz of me? It's not fair." The child cried, trying to hold back a bit but still needing to let out some emotions before continuing, if she even wanted to.

Hawks stood beside Kari the whole time, his usual laid-back expression softened into something quiet and pained. He didn’t say much while she clicked through the files—he didn’t need to. His hand gripped hers back just enough to remind her he was there, grounding her, steady and real in a space full of shadows from the past.

When Kari tried to lighten the mood at the end, Hawks crouched down a little to her level and gently brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. His expression didn’t shift into pity—it never did. Instead, it was the expression of someone who understood, who had lived through too many ghosts of his own.

“Two pounds, huh?” he murmured with a gentle smile. “And now look at you. Tough enough to face all this head-on, brave enough to want answers even when you knew they’d hurt. That kind of strength? That’s rare, Kari. That’s hero stuff.”

He let the words settle before continuing, his thumb brushing over her knuckles where their hands were still locked together.

“Your dad loved you. All of you. You can feel it in every word he wrote—even when things were falling apart, his thoughts were on keeping you safe. That’s not something a lot of kids get to grow up knowing. But you? You’ve got that. You’ve got him with you every time you use your quirk, every time you snort like he did.” Hawks grinned a little at that, trying to lift her spirit without pushing her too fast.

He then stood and offered his other hand to steady her.

“We can look for more when you’re ready—your mom’s records, maybe some old hero logs. But we don’t have to do it all today. There’s no rush. What matters is you have this now. It’s a part of you, but it doesn’t have to define you.”

He gave her hand a soft squeeze, his wings flexing slightly behind him.

“You wanna keep going? Or you want a break, maybe get something warm to drink, clear your head?” he asked gently, letting her take the lead again. “Whatever you choose, I’m here, little bird.”

[arachnidseyesmoved]

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

YOU AND ME

Damian Wayne x Constantine! Reader

A/N: Previous. Next. Damian and reader go on a date!!! That's all that happens, I swear! w.c: 1.8k

You bow with the rest of the performers on stage as the crowd gives one last show of appreciation. When the curtains fall, you very stealthily scamper towards the dressing rooms, not before catching the sly wink Zatanna throws your way.

Maybe you weren’t being that stealthy.

The door to your dressing room clicks shut and you eye yourself in the vanity mirror, only then realising how nervous the girl in the mirror looks. There’s a lot that can go wrong today and a lot you really want to go right. You fix yourself with a look of determination.

With a little twirl and a poof of smoke, your magicians outfit is swapped with the outfit you spent a rather embarrassing amount of time picking out. Before you can fuss anymore over your reflection, there’s a knock on the door.

That was fast, at least you’re not the only eager one. You take a quick, deep breath before opening the door.

Damian Wayne stands in the doorway, he takes you in while you take him in. He’s dressed much less fancy than the last time you saw him, bomber jacket with a simple but probably unnecessarily expensive t-shirt and loose jeans.

“Are you ready?” You ask, unable to fully hide your excitement. You see just the smidgen of a smile on his face as he answers rather seriously,

“I’m always ready for anything.”

“Ooh, Don’t challenge me, Wayne.”

You pull him into the room and shut the door. After knocking three times on said door, you give him a grin.

“You let me plan this whole thing, remember.”

You open the door and step through into an entirely different place. Damian’s sneakers touch cobblestone road and he squints in the sudden sunlight. He thinks he knows already, given the wide bustling streets and the architecture of the buildings around him, but he asks anyway,

“Where are we?”

You’re all too happy to tell him, winding an arm around his and leading him in a seemingly random direction.

“Turin, Italy. I did a mission here a while ago. That’s what we’re going to see first by the way, some good old spooky occult shit, this city has tons of it.”

He lets you drag him to several such occult sights. He listens while you yap about the differences between demonic and non-demonic cathedrals, how to know if a crypt is cursed and which ghost sightings are obviously real and which are fake. He does it all with an attentive mind, almost like he’s reading a book he really likes and he's trying to burn it into his mind.

Once you're done showing him all the "cool shit", you proudly announce that you also planned some things he'd actually enjoy. He keeps the fact that he was enjoying himself the entire time to himself.

You take him to an art gallery, an archaeological museum and a natural history museum. You listen to him yap all about unconventional painting techniques, which period had the best samurai swords and which fun facts about prehistoric animals are actually true and which are completely wrong. You listen with the ear of someone who’s hearing their new favourite song for the first time.

─⋅⋆⁺.

“I get that, but when a magician asks you for your favourite animal and you say "Anaconda." You should at least be a little ready for her to pull out an anaconda! He almost soiled himself on stage!”

Damian huffs a laugh, easing back against the bench you two found that completely coincidentally (as far as he knows) has a perfect view of the sunset. You sit in easy silence, sharing a cup of caramel ice-cream. He looks more at ease than you’ve ever seen him before and an embarrassing amount of pride blooms in your chest at how well your date turned out to be.

You stare ahead at the horizon and wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are, the thought sparks a bit of unease. Realising you haven’t said something stupid or irritating in a while, you decide now would be a good time to break the fast.

“Do you think the sunset will be this pretty on our wedding day?”

His lips nudge downwards, not quite a grimace but he eyes your smug grin with much annoyance. He sighs and takes another scoop of ice-cream with his little wooden spoon before saying,

“I hope so.”

The teasing grin disappears from your face, and all you can do is gaze ahead blankly. That’s not what he was supposed to say.

You clear your throat and take a bigger than necessary bite of ice-cream, racking your brain for what the hell to say next. After a few minutes you try again, teasing tone more forced than before.

“Do you think Alfred would walk me down the aisle?”

He doesn’t look at you this time, he just stares ahead at the pinkish-orange sky.

“I'm sure he would if you asked. So would my father. He would be glad that at least one of his sons can commit.”

You look ahead too, wishing you could see the view through his eyes instead.

“I'm sure he'd be proud.”

Damian doesn’t have to ask who you’re thinking about when you say that, so he doesn't.

“Would you invite…her?”

He tilts his head up, genuinely thinking through how that would play out despite how ridiculous this complete hypothetical is.

“I don’t know. I’d want to.”

You nod in understanding. Some things are just too complicated to work out in the end. A twinge of sadness settles before you feel the impulsive urge to turn to a lighter topic.

“Titus would make the perfect flower boy.”

He lets a smile slip onto his face, finally looking back at you. The sun leaves little specs of gold in his eyes and you find yourself openly staring (unbeknownst that he’s making the exact same observation). He takes the cup from your hands and places it beside you on the bench. Taking your hand in his, he leans closer and kisses you gently.

His other hand gently holds your cheek. When you part, he stays close. It feels just like those stupid cheesy movies, like a pretentious romance novel, like a sappy love song. But it feels good, good enough that you hold off on the snarky comment for just a few seconds more.

“You know you’d have to make Jon the best man, right?”

Damian groans, pulling back and closing his eyes, acting as if that's actually something he'll have to do. You laugh and lay your head on his shoulder.

“C’mon, He’d be devastated if you didn’t.”

Damian puts his arm around you, keeping you close.

“Maybe I’ll just lie and tell him Arab weddings don’t have a best man.”

You let out a snort,

“Good luck with that.”

You stay like that until the sun sinks behind the distant mountains, replaced by the orange glow of street lamps. Eventually, you stand from the bench, clearing your throat a bit.

“I know I’ve kept you all day, but do you want to grab dinner?”

He stands from the bench as well, throwing away the little ice-cream cup before casually lacing your hands together.

“Anything for my future wife.”

Your heart almost stops. Your brain stammers and so do your words.

“Don’t- Don’t say that.”

“Say what, beloved?”

He asks, looking down at you with a smirk. You very much do not like being on the other side of this dynamic at all. And you know he knows that, he might just be able to feel the heat from your face!

“Stop that-”

Before you can finish, the world stops, literally. Everything slows to a halt. Crickets stop chirping, the breeze stops blowing, all commotion on the street is silenced. Even Damian is suspended in animation just like everything else. Everything except you and-

You’re looking around already, knowing exactly what this is. He used to do this when you were being belligerent on missions. He'd just stop the entire world to yell at you for being a dumb kid, even if he could only do it for a few precious seconds. Nothing for months and he picks now?

You slide your hand out of Damian’s and step closer to where you can see the yellow portal forming.

“You really have bad fucking timing.”

“Language.”

John Constantine steps out of the portal, hands in the pockets of his coat, cigarette in his mouth.

“I need yer help.”

You couldn’t stop the eyeroll if you tried.

“Obviously.”

Why the hell else would he be here. He sighs and takes in his surroundings, looking anywhere but you.

“What are ya even doing here, sight seeing?”

You step back towards Damian and grab his hand, bringing him out of the time freeze. He looks around, taking in the situation with shocking calmness, his expression turns to understanding when he sees John.

“I'm on a date.”

John looks to you, then at Damian, then back to you. It takes him a minute to understand who Damian is and what that means. The cigarette falls out of his mouth as he sputters like an idiot.

“Yer fucking with me.”

“Language.”

He regains some composure when he notices the way you’re looking at him. As if he just remembered how you two left things. That you might actually not want to see him.

“Look, Love, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an end of the world kind of thing.”

You feel Damian squeeze your hand a little, a reassuring act, an act of trust. There’s a deep understanding between you but with that comes a lot left unsaid. Left in the grey space of "We both understand this so there’s no need to discuss it really.” or is it that you want to talk about it but don’t know how. Being exceptionally gifted kids with exceptional, world-saving parents and bucket loads of trauma isn't something you just bring up casually.

But Damian understands obligation and responsibility. The need to do what’s necessary.

“Fine.”

John sighs, like he actually thought you wouldn’t say yes for a second. The thought brings you more spiteful pride than you’d like to admit.

“Come along then.”

He simply states, before disappearing into his little portal leaving it open for you to follow. Everything slowly returns to normal pace again, the bustle of the street returns as pedestrians keep on like nothing happened. Lucky bastards.

“I’ll call you…when I’m done.”

He nods his head. He’s taking this very well and you’re not sure how to feel about it. He's trying to be understanding, probably because he knows you'd do the exact same thing for him. You barely have to talk about why you have to go, what you have to do… but that doesn't mean you don't want to.

"Don't make me stitch you up again."

He brings you into a hug. You think briefly on how awkward a hug from Damian would have been just a month ago. The thought makes you smile as you burrow your face in his warm neck, breathing in his distinct scent. You open a magic door for him,

“This’ll take you home. To the manor.”

With that you give him one last long look before following your dad into his portal, going who knows where to face who knows what.

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

[sunskisser]

simon ghost riley x sunshine!reader

summary: you were a specially brought in sergeant from the navy. sunshine personified, you start to break down simon’s walls.

a/n: um…. no one look at me 😭😭 i’m so behind on requests lol but i can’t stop thinking about this man!!! might write a part 2 hehe

The moment Simon laid eyes on you, he knew he was gone.

You came in like a whirlwind of warmth, like love itself had taken your name. You were everything he wasn’t, everything most seasoned soldiers had long lost — bright, affectionate, kind.

You introduced yourself as a Sergeant from the Navy, deployed to Task Force 141 for a few missions, just to gain exposure. It wasn’t like Simon had heard what you said, he was too busy staring at you, with all your pretty features and sweet smiles — but he did make sure to ask Johnny later.

Everytime he passed by you on base, you were busy chattering animatedly to someone else. And every single time you gave him a little wave, you had that damn smile on your face. 

It always sent a twinge of annoyance through him. Just how experienced were you — to be grinning in a dreary place like this? This was the military, for God’s sake. It wasn’t a place for smiles, or happiness, or anything remotely close to that.

But damn it, he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel some kind of way. If you didn’t make his heart squeeze some kind of way.

Simon’s first private encounter with you happened about a week later. He was sat in his office, head in his hand and fingers ink-stained. The stacks of paperwork sprawled over the table didn’t seem to be getting any smaller, and it was frustrating. He grit his teeth, just about to give up and ask Price to get somebody else to do it, when he heard the knock. 

“Come in.”

You poke your head in, beaming. “Morning, Simon!”

He grunts in acknowledgment, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “What d’ya need, Sergeant?”

“Oh, please, just call me Y/n,” you smile, waving him off, because of course you didn’t know how many times he’d mentally repeated your name to himself. You walk all the way in and close the door behind you, almost skipping to his desk. 

“Anywho,” you say brightly as you hold out a plastic box to him, “I baked you cookies.”

Simon blinks, staring up at you suspiciously. “Cookies? For me?”

“Mhm!” you push the box into his hands, and he cautiously accepts it. “Johnny told me you loved chocolate chips, so I rolled in some extra for you.”

Simon looks up at your smiling face, and has no idea how to respond. He suddenly feels like he has a heart. You baked him cookies, for absolutely no reason at all. How could he say no?

“Uh,” he grunts, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably as he puts it down on his desk. It’s getting annoyingly hard to keep the frown on his face. “Thanks, lass. ‘Preciate it.”

“No problem,” you gush. And Simon thought that this would be the end of it, that you’d leave once you’d given him your cookies. But no, of course not.

You unpromptedly take a seat across his desk, eyes flitting all over it. 

“Paperwork?” you ask, so sympathetic that it tugs on Simon’s (apparently existent) heartstrings. “Seems like a lot of it. Do you need some help?”

You look up at him with those big, hopeful eyes, and Simon has to resist the urge to agree immediately. Price would kill him if he knew he was getting a specially brought-in Navy sergeant to help him with paperwork, but fuck Price.

“Well…” he scratches the back of his head, feigning hesitation. “If ye don’t mind, then yeah, I could use some help.”

You look almost delighted at that, and Simon wondered how anyone could be happy to do something as monotonous as paperwork. But you proved him wrong.

You helped him file, reorganize, and proofread everything on his desk, all while chatting his ear off. You told him all about your work back in the Navy, your family, your pet dogs, even about your favourite couch back home — whatever that meant. 

Nothing he needed to know, but everything he wanted to. He could feel himself softening more and more as the minutes passed, annoyance turning into a fonder shade.

So this is what it felt like to be on the receiving end of your liveliness. This is why you were already so popular around base, within just a week of your arrival.

Simon knew he’d be asking you for help again sometime soon.

[kathlare]

hi hi i absolutely love your writing and this universe so much, i was wondering (totally fine if you’re not comfortable with writing this but i just thought i’d ask) if you could write something set in 2025 where lando and amelie have sex on her period… i need the comfort rn 🙃😩 i know this is a bit much to ask but i love your smut chapters sm

Hii!! 💕 First of all, thank you so, so much for all the love and support — it really means the world 🥺 And thank you for feeling comfortable enough to ask for this! You’re absolutely not asking too much, and I’m so happy to say that I’ve gone ahead and written this chapter for you. Here it is — I really hope you like it and that it gives you the comfort you’re looking for 💗🔥

If you ever have more requests, you know where to find me! 🌙✨ Enjoy!!

woman

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie finds herself struggling with discomfort during a work trip, and Lando steps up to support and care for her.

Wordcount: 4.4 k

Warnings: smut

full masterlist // request over

June 11th, 2025 - Lake Como, Italy

Lando was standing by the edge of the terrace overlooking the shimmering waters of Lake Como, the early afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the scene. The TUMI campaign shoot was in full swing, and Lando, dressed sharp in a sleek navy blazer with crisp white shirt and matching tailored pants, was effortlessly posing with the brand’s latest luggage collection. His usual easy charm was on full display — the half-smile, the cocked eyebrow, the subtle lean against the vintage wooden railing.

Behind the scenes, Amelie sat quietly beside a couple of Lando’s team members — his race engineer and a photographer who had flown in specially for this shoot. She was wearing a loose linen blouse and light jeans, hair pulled back casually, watching Lando with that familiar mix of admiration and playful affection that never failed to make him feel like the luckiest guy alive.

—Hey, Ames, did you see that?— one of the crew nudged her, laughing.

—What?— Amelie grinned, sipping a bottle of sparkling water.

—That look he just gave the camera. Total model shit.—

She laughed softly, eyes never leaving Lando as he shifted stance, his focus razor sharp but his mind clearly half on her.

Then, suddenly, Amelie’s face tightened ever so slightly. A sharp, unfamiliar twinge settled low in her abdomen.

—Fuck.— She muttered under her breath.

The pain was subtle but insistent — a dull ache crawling its way into discomfort. Her mind raced through the possibilities. Could it be her period arriving? She hadn’t really tracked it well lately with everything going on, but this felt like that familiar warning.

She excused herself gently from the conversation, murmuring, —I’ll be right back.—

The path to the bathroom felt longer than it was, every step tinged with that low, growing ache that made her wince when she wasn’t careful. Her purse bounced against her hip as she finally shut the door behind her.

She quickly checked — and yep, there it was. A small but unmistakable crimson stain on her panties.

—Okay, Ames, you got this.— She pulled out a tampon from her bag, carefully handled the situation, and took a deep breath before washing her hands and looking at herself in the mirror.

The sharpness in her stomach was still there, but now manageable.

Back outside, she smoothed down her blouse, feeling a little stronger, and headed back to the shoot.

As she approached the group, her eyes locked onto Lando’s across the sunlit terrace.

He caught the moment, his brows knitting for a heartbeat before his lips moved silently—no sound coming out, but the message clear: You okay?

Amelie gave him a small, determined thumbs-up and a half-smile that said, I’m fine. Just hang tight.

She sat down again beside the team, feeling the ache still lurking beneath her skin like a ticking timer, knowing the worst wasn’t over yet.

Lando’s eyes never left her. Even as the camera clicked around him and the photographer shouted out directions, his focus kept drifting back to where Amelie sat, trying to look casual but clearly unsettled. The way she shifted in her seat, one leg crossed then uncrossed, her hand resting—then pressing—lightly against her lower stomach. The crease between her brows she kept trying to smooth away.

He felt a familiar pang—protective, concerned, and honestly a little helpless. This wasn’t like the usual behind-the-scenes nerves or tiredness after long flights. He knew that look, that subtle discomfort, from the months they’d spent figuring out each other’s quirks and lows.

Lando’s smile faded just a little as he glanced away from the camera, lips pressed together. The photographer was yelling something about “more intensity, Lan!” but Lando barely heard it. His eyes flicked back to Amelie, who was fidgeting again—shifting on the chair, trying to settle, her fingers tracing small circles over her stomach like she was trying to rub the pain away.

Without missing a beat, Lando raised a hand toward the shoot’s assistant.

—Hey, mate, can we take a quick break?— he said, voice calm but firm.

The assistant nodded, and the crew began to pause, some lowering their cameras.

Lando walked over to Amelie with long strides, kneeling down beside her chair.

—Hey, Ames, you okay? You don’t look so good.—

Amelie forced a small smile but shook her head slowly.

—Just cramps, Lan. It’s fine.—

He shook his head.

—No, not fine. Let’s get you out of here for a bit. Someone from the team will walk you back to the hotel, yeah? I’ll catch up later.—

Amelie stood up, a little unsteady, clutching her purse.

—I can wait here, really.—

Lando reached out, pulling her gently back by the waist.

—Nope. You’re not waiting here looking like you’re about to pass out. You’re going back, and I’m making sure of it.—

He glanced at the nearby assistant.

—Mate, grab her things, please.—

The assistant nodded and hurried over, picking up Amelie’s bag and some of her things.

Lando gave Amelie a quick, reassuring kiss on the temple.

—I’ll be back soon. You rest, yeah? Call me if you need anything.—

Amelie’s eyes softened, and she nodded.

—Thanks, Lan.—

They started toward the exit, the assistant leading the way with her belongings.

Lando glanced back over his shoulder at the shoot as they walked.

—Don’t have too much fun without me.—

Amelie smirked, leaning into his side.

—No promises.—

Lando chuckled, squeezing her hand gently.

—You’re a bloody mess sometimes, Ames.—

—You love it.—

—More than you know, baby.—

They disappeared through the doors, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over Lake Como as they left the shoot behind, ready to face whatever the day had next — together.

-------------

liked by sainzspice, papayafam, and others

ameliesunshine: Amelie spotted with a fan in Italy today 🇮🇹♥️ looking like an actual angel (as always) and making someone’s day brighter!

View all 27,015 comments

sainzspice: amelie making italy her runway like it's NOT a grocery run 😭 → paddockbabes: @sainzspice LANDO ON HIS KNEES RN

f1babygirl: amelie in italy? lando already booking a flight. mark my words. → l4ndo4ever: @f1babygirl jet-set boyfriend era is so real rn 😌✈️

strawberriie: amelie in italy? lando about to teleport there in .5 seconds 😭 → pitlanepass: @strawberriie he’s already googling flights rn

papayadrive: no way she looks that cute in candids too?? unfair!! → lanmelieluvr: @papayadrive lando punching air somewhere

papayafam: she’s too cute like how is lando functioning knowing she’s out here looking like this 😩

paddockvibes: lanmelie doing long distance? nah he’s def about to teleport to italy

gridgirlie: ames in italy = lando looking for “urgent sponsor meetings” near milan 😂 → lane4melie: @gridgirlie LANDO IS ALREADY ON FLIGHTRADAR I BET

ameliesfiles: she’s so pretty but lowkey looks tired 🥺 someone get this girl some tea and a blanket → lanmeliequeen: @ameliesfiles lando already taxiing the jet as we speak

papayadrama: ames looking a lil pale… lando get ur girl some rest!! 😭

f1tealeaks: ames pls rest up!! we don’t want a sick queen 😞 → lanmelie4ever: @f1tealeaks lando’s calling room service for a gallon of tea rn

tracksidegossip: she looks like she needs a long nap and a cuddle 😔 → lanmelieluv: @tracksidegossip and lando’s probably sending a “you okay? 🥺” text every 5 mins

f1circuitcrush: ames pale as a ghost and STILL serving?! iconic. → gridgossip_: @f1circuitcrush lando in the background like “you’re done. bed. now.” 😂

-------------

The camera was already recording when Lando sank down into the couch, brushing hair out of his eyes, grinning sheepishly. The setup was crisp and clean: a cozy corner of the hotel room, warm afternoon light pouring in from the windows, and his well-worn, much-traveled TUMI backpack resting on the table in front of him.

—Hey, everyone,— he started, brushing a hand down the surface of the bag, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. —So, I guess this is the ‘What’s in my bag’ video… which, full disclosure, is kind of a mess. But that’s sort of the point, right?—

With a shrug, he pulled the zipper and started unpacking.

The first thing he pulled out was a sleek laptop. —That’s mine. Not too exciting. Just where I review data, watch movies… reply to Amelie when she doesn’t text back quick enough.— He winked at the camera, brushing hair from his forehead.

Then came a charger and a set of noise-canceling headphones. —Standard stuff. Got to have music for the flights. Might be Amelie’s too, I’m honestly not sure anymore. We just… share everything at this point.—

He gave a soft chuckle and pulled out a small, cream-colored zippered pouch. —Alright, this one? Definitely Amelie’s.— He waved it for the camera. —That’s where she puts like… hair ties, lip balm, this tiny roller thing for headaches. Basically, the ‘I didn’t bring a bag so can I shove this in your backpack’ kit.—

He pulled out a pack of painkillers, then a neatly wrapped heating patch. —Yep. Those aren’t mine, obviously. Someone had cramps often and it ends up in here. Not complaining though. You’ve got to be prepared when you travel, right?—

Next came a sleek travel-sized bottle of Amelie’s favorite perfume. Lando smiled, brushing a finger over it like it was some sort of treasure. —She tucks this in sometimes. Never noticed until she’s like ‘smell this’ in the car or whatever. So now, I just carry it. Because why wouldn’t I?—

A hair scrunchie emerged, pastel and soft. Lando gave it a glance and shrugged. —More evidence that this bag isn’t just mine anymore. Honestly? It’s worth it. Means she’s with me, in some way, even when she’s not.—

Then came a granola bar, a small packet of gummies, and a little case of tea bags. —Yep. All Amelie. Because she swears I forget to eat when I’m working. So she sneaks snacks and tea into my bag every time. Not mad about it, to be fair.—

He pulled out a Polaroid photo next. Amelie, hair windswept and grinning, and him making a stupid face beside her. He smiled at it for a long moment before holding it closer for the camera.

—This one’s mine. Goes with me everywhere. Doesn’t matter where I am, track, hotel, airport, this makes it feel like home.—

Lando laughed quietly to himself and reached further inside the bag, fishing out a small, plain black case.

—Okay, full honesty here…— he said, cheeks reddening just a little as he held it up for the camera. —This is… uh… emergency boyfriend material.— He gave a sheepish grin, glancing sideways like he was trying to avoid full exposure. —Yeah, I forgot I even had them in here. But you know, gotta be prepared, right? Responsible and all that.—

He paused, then shrugged.

—Look, you never know. Plus, if you’re gonna be a decent boyfriend, it’s all part of the package.—

Lando chuckled again, shifting the bag slightly and digging deeper.

—Oh, and here’s one more thing...— he pulled out a small, worn set of keys on a familiar keychain, with a tiny charm that Amelie had given him. —These are the keys to my heart... or well, her place anyway.— He winked. —Officially stolen, no returns.—

The camera caught the faintest flicker of a smile, the warm glow in his eyes that only showed when he talked about her.

—Honestly, most of this stuff is… hers. Or stuff she says I need. And I’m not complaining. It’s kinda nice knowing you’re carrying around someone you care about with you everywhere you go.—

He paused, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear, the grin softening.

—So yeah, that’s my bag. A little chaotic, a little Amelie, a lot of boyfriend things. If you ask me, it’s the best kind of travel companion.—

Lando gave the camera a quick thumbs-up, then leaned back with that relaxed, cheeky grin.

—Alright, that’s enough oversharing for today. Catch you later, yeah?—

-------------

liked by sainzspice, papayafam, and others

lando_update24: Lando’s living that model life 🇮🇹✨ Spotted on TUMI Travel’s Insta, looking fresh and sleek while filming their latest campaign in Italy. Can’t wait to see the full drop!

View all 46,228 comments

paddockqueen: italian vibes got him looking like a whole snack 🍝👀 → norrisfanatic: @paddockqueen honestly, he’s making us all hungry for more than just pasta

vroomvroom_vibes: can he just stop flexing so hard pls my heart can’t take it 💔

speedqueen: lando out here flexin in italy 🏎️💨

driftgod: TUMI really said “hold my bags” and handed it to lando 🤩 → norrisstan101: @driftgod the way he’s serving looks makes me wanna quit racing and join fashion 😂

amelieloverx: bet ames is lowkey on set too, can’t wait for collab pics 🙌

lanmelie_4ever: italy trip confirmed for the power couple 🇮🇹✨ → speedqueen: @lanmelie_4ever I’m screaming they’re living their best lives rn

savage_pitstop: lando lookin like a snack, ames better be bringing the sauce 🍝😏 → lanmelie_4ever: @savage_pitstop 100%, italian vibes got him glowing

driftgod: ok but if ames is there, pls show us pics 😭🙏 → ameliefan99: @driftgod we’re all waiting on that lanmelie content

norrisstan101: the fact that lando’s working and ames probs nearby makes me soft 🥹

f1memequeen: lando out here multitasking: racing, modeling, boyfriending 🤡 → speedqueen: @f1memequeen the MAN is unstoppable

amelieloverx: send good vibes to our king he’s doing everything 😍

amelie_fanatic: she’s probably hyping him up behind the scenes 💖 → lanmelie_4ever: @amelie_fanatic 100%, queen supporting her king always

norrisstan101: lando’s smile in these pics is giving me “in love” vibes not gonna lie → lanmelie_4ever: @norrisstan101 that’s our lovebird for ya 🥰

f1memequeen: lando really out here making all of us jealous, the man’s got it all 👏

-------------

The key card clicked, and Lando pushed open the heavy door to their hotel suite. The Italian sun, which had been so vibrant outside, seemed to have retreated, leaving the room in a soft, diffused light. His tie was already loosened, and his blazer slung over his arm. The day had been long, a whirlwind of cameras, curated smiles, and endless directions, but all of it faded from his mind the moment he stepped inside.

—Amelie?— he called out softly, dropping his bag near the entrance. No immediate answer. He walked further into the room, past the small sitting area, and into the bedroom.

There she was. Curled on the plush king-sized bed, a rumpled duvet partially covering her, looking utterly miserable. Her face was pale, almost ashen, and a fine sheen of sweat was visible on her forehead despite the cool air conditioning. Her knees were drawn up tight to her chest, and one hand was pressed firmly against her lower abdomen, as if trying to physically contain the agony. She looked… shit. Really, truly awful.

—Ames,— Lando said, his voice instantly laced with concern. He moved swiftly, discarding his blazer and tie on a nearby chair. His shirt was unbuttoned as he walked, revealing the toned expanse of his chest. Within moments, he had shed his trousers, leaving him in just his fitted black boxers. The usual playful energy he carried had been replaced by a quiet, focused tenderness.

He carefully eased himself onto the bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He didn't speak, just gently pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her, letting her head rest against his shoulder. He started to stroke her hair, a soothing, repetitive motion.

She let out a small, pained whimper, her body still tense. Even nestled against him, the pain wasn't letting up. She tried to shift, seeking a position that might offer some relief, but it seemed futile. Each subtle movement brought another grimace to her face.

Lando pressed a kiss to her temple, feeling the clamminess of her skin. —Still really bad, huh?— he murmured, his thumb rubbing small circles on her arm.

Amelie just nodded, her voice choked. —It's… it's so much worse now, Lan. I feel like I'm going to throw up.—

He held her tighter, a familiar helplessness bubbling inside him. He hated seeing her like this, so vulnerable and in so much pain. His mind raced, trying to recall anything, anything that might help. Then, a random fact, something he'd skimmed in an article months ago while procrastinating on an email, resurfaced.

He hesitated, a faint blush creeping up his neck. It sounded… well, it sounded like an excuse. But he had read it. —Hey,— he began, his voice a little unsure. —I… I read something once. About how, uh, sex can sometimes help with cramps?—

Amelie, even in her agony, managed to crack one eye open and squint at him. If this were any other day, she would have burst out laughing, probably accusing him of being a "horny bastard" or asking if he'd just pulled that out of his ass. But today, the pain was too overwhelming for witty comebacks or playful banter. She was desperate.

She let out a slow, ragged breath, her eyes closing again. After a long moment, barely audible, she whispered, —Really?—

Lando nodded, his chest vibrating against her. —Yeah, I swear. Something about… muscle contractions, or blood flow? I don't know the science, but I read it.—

Another pause, punctuated by a faint groan from Amelie. Then, a sigh of resignation. —Okay,— she mumbled, the single word heavy with pain and a surprising flicker of trust. —Okay, fine.—

A wave of relief, mixed with a healthy dose of awkwardness, washed over Lando. He gently disentangled himself from her, the warmth of her body leaving him feeling strangely cold. —Right,— he said, pushing himself up. —Just… let me get a towel first.— He didn't want to make things any more uncomfortable for her than they already were. He quickly scanned the room for a fresh bath towel, his heart a little lighter, knowing he might actually be able to offer her some real comfort.

He found a large, soft bath towel from the closet, laying it carefully over the pristine white sheets beneath where Amelie lay. As he turned back, he finally shed his last piece of clothing, his boxers pooling at his ankles before he kicked them aside. He then knelt beside the bed, his hand gently finding the waistband of her jeans.

—Let’s get these off, baby,— he murmured, his touch feather-light as he helped her unbutton and slide them down her hips. She was still wearing the loose linen blouse, but he carefully eased that off too, her body a pale, trembling landscape beneath his hands. When he reached her underwear, he paused, his eyes meeting hers. She nodded subtly, trusting him. He delicately removed them, his gaze falling on the small, crimson evidence of her period. Without a word, he took the tampon, discreetly disposing of it in the trash can in the en-suite bathroom before returning to her side.

He then returned to her side, his gaze gentle, his heart aching with concern for her. She was still curled, eyes squeezed shut, but there was a flicker of anticipation, a desperate hope for relief in her posture.

He leaned down, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. —Mi amor,— he whispered, his voice thick with tenderness. —Are you sure, baby? We don't have to.—

Amelie shook her head, a slight tremor running through her. —No. Just… please, Lan. Try.—

He nodded, understanding. He shifted, gently positioning himself over her, supporting his weight on his forearms so as not to press down on her tender abdomen. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his, and he saw a raw vulnerability there that made his breath catch. He leaned in, kissing her softly, trying to convey all his care and adoration through the press of his lips.

As he moved closer, a soft gasp escaped her lips. The usual warmth and welcoming embrace he was accustomed to was amplified by her pain-induced tension. She was incredibly tight, a sensation that would normally drive him wild with a primal urge for dominance and speed. But now, it only fueled his resolve to be as gentle, as patient as possible. He moved slowly, deliberately, a silent question in his every careful push forward.

Her body, usually so pliant and eager, was resisting slightly, not out of unwillingness, but from the involuntary clenching of her muscles. He took his time, murmuring soft reassurances against her neck, his touch feather-light. He felt the subtle tremors running through her, and his heart clenched.

—It’s okay, baby,— he whispered, his voice low and soothing. —Just breathe. I got you.— He waited, letting her body adjust to his presence, his own breathing slowing to match hers. He felt the tightness, the delicate barrier, and he pressed forward with agonizing slowness, until finally, with a soft, strained sigh from Amelie, he was fully within her.

He paused, letting them both adjust, feeling the exquisite, almost painful grip she had on him. It was a maddening sensation, a challenge to his usual control, but he held it in check. His focus was entirely on her, on easing her discomfort. He started to move, slowly at first, barely a rhythm, just a gentle, rocking motion.

—You’re so good, mi amor,— he praised, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet room. He felt her shift, a tiny, almost imperceptible softening in her muscles as his words washed over her. Amelie always blossomed under his praise, and even now, in her agony, a faint hint of it reached her. —So beautiful. So strong.—

He watched her face, searching for any sign of change. The grimace was still there, but subtly, slowly, it began to ease. He deepened the rhythm, still tender, still gentle, but with more purpose now. He leaned down, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips, his body a warm, comforting weight against hers.

As the waves of pleasure began to build, he felt the rigidness in her slowly, mercifully begin to melt away. The tightness remained, a delicious, demanding pressure that whispered of her vulnerability and her need, driving him to be even more deliberate, more tender. He loved this feeling of being in control, but right now, his control was dedicated to her comfort, to helping her find that elusive relief.

Her breathing deepened, becoming less ragged, more rhythmic. A soft moan escaped her lips, not of pain, but of building sensation. He felt her hands tangle in his hair, her fingers gripping lightly as she arched against him, finally surrendering to the rising tide.

He kept the praise flowing, soft words of adoration, knowing how much it pleased her. —You’re amazing, Amelie. Absolutely incredible.— He felt the powerful clench of her muscles around him, a shudder running through her, and then a profound, utter release. The tension drained from her body, replaced by a soft, yielding warmth.

Suddenly, a different energy surged through Amelie. The desperate edge of pain had vanished, replaced by a deep, throbbing pleasure that coursed through her. She gasped, her eyes flying open, no longer clouded with misery but alight with desire. Her legs, which had been drawn up in a defensive crouch against the cramps, now instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him in even deeper, closer.

—Lando,— she breathed, her voice low and husky, entirely different from the choked whispers of moments before. Her hips began to move against his, a new, urgent rhythm emerging. —Go faster, Lan. Please.—

His breath hitched. He saw the change in her, the way her eyes now locked onto his, demanding. The subtle shift in her grip, the playful challenge in her voice despite its softness. The pain was gone. And in its place, the Amelie he knew, the one who loved to push him, to pull him deeper into their shared passion, had returned.

A dark, possessive gleam entered his eyes. His tenderness didn't vanish, but it deepened, transforming into a more powerful, unleashed care. This was what he craved, this raw, uninhibited connection with her. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss, and began to move as she asked, faster now, matching her newfound urgency, their bodies finally truly in sync, no longer fighting against the invisible enemy of pain. Each thrust was met with a moan from her, each deepening kiss a silent promise of pleasure.

As Lando picked up the pace, guided by her breathless pleas, the room seemed to fade away. It was just them, their intertwined bodies, the crescendo of their shared desire building with every powerful thrust. Amelie’s fingers dug into his shoulders, her moans growing louder, sweeter, no longer hinting at pain but pure, unadulterated pleasure. He felt her arch beneath him, her whole body trembling as she rode the waves, her internal muscles clenching around him in a final, exquisite grip. A raw cry tore from her throat, and moments later, with a guttural groan, Lando followed, burying his face in her neck as the tremors shook them both.

They lay tangled for a long moment, their breathing ragged, the humid air of the room heavy with their exertion. The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the slowing beat of their hearts. Lando felt the last vestiges of her tension completely dissipate, replaced by a pliant, contented softness. He lifted his head, gazing down at her, a soft smile gracing his lips. Her eyes, still heavy-lidded, met his, and a faint, satisfied blush crept across her cheeks.

—Are you… are you okay, mi amor?— he whispered, his voice still a little breathless.

Amelie let out a soft, almost purring sigh. —Yeah, Lan. More than okay. It… it actually worked.— A small, incredulous laugh escaped her. —You’re a genius.—

Lando chuckled, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. He gently shifted, pulling himself out of her body, the separation a soft, squishy sound in the quiet room. He then reached for the towel he'd laid down earlier, carefully dabbing her clean. He was meticulous, tender, ensuring she felt cared for and comfortable. As he moved, his gaze briefly flickered to his inner thigh, where a faint, dark smudge of red stained his skin. He registered it, then, without a word, simply ignored it, his focus entirely on Amelie.

Once he was sure she was as clean as possible, he pulled the duvet up, tucking it around her before carefully sliding his arms under her, lifting her easily. She was light in his arms, her body still warm and pliant from their exertion.

—Come on, baby,— he murmured, pressing a kiss to her damp hair. —Let’s get you properly clean. A nice warm shower.—

Amelie wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder. —Okay,— she whispered, her voice sleepy and content. She didn’t object, didn’t comment on the lingering mess, or the dampness beneath them. She simply trusted him, allowing herself to be carried, utterly exhausted but finally, blessedly, pain-free. Lando carried her from the bed, his bare feet padding softly on the cool marble floor towards the bathroom, leaving the rumpled, stained sheets behind.

[dazedantics]

Pt 4: One Sided Rivalry - Mark Grayson x Reader

Pt 3 here

"Y/N? You're here? Oh my god, where've you been, everything okay?" A surprised Mark Grayson asked in his doorframe.

"You quit your job." You said, eyes flitting over the paint on the walls. Anywhere but him. "Would've been nice to know before I went in looking for you. Boss didn't like hearing your name much."

"Heh yeah, I haven't gone in for a while. But I told you. Don't you remember?"

You hummed. Cause no, you didn't remember.

"Well, uh ... come in! Come in," he stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Did something happen?"

"No. No ... just," you trailed off, taking in his house as he led you up the stairs to his room.

You'd never been to his house before. Never wanted to. Never thought you would.

He lived pretty nicely.

"Checking up on you."

He stared at you. "Ch-checking up?"

You shrugged, gut churning. This felt weird. Why were you here? Couldn't this have waited till the weekend was over?

"I uh ... learned that guy William's name. He's um ... he cares about you."

God this was so awkward, why did you come here?

This is why Markus always did the talking.

Mark smiled closing the bedroom door as you entered. "What do you mean 'learned his name?' We've known him forever?"

"You have ...." You muttered to yourself.

Then turned to face him now.

He looked fine. No bruises or tired eyes. Just dressed in his nerdy little pajamas. Like you knew he'd be the type to own.

How late was it again?

A silence fell over you. Heavy and noticeable. Unlike anything you remembered over the years.

The room felt dark and constricting.

You should just go and forget all about everything you and William had talked about.

So what if Markus stayed glued to your hip without interacting normally. He was fine with it before. He'd be fine with it now.

"You ... haven't been to school in a while, haven't answered my calls. What's going on with you."

You picked a loose thread on your sleeve. "Been home ... just ... y'know. Doing normal things."

He nodded.

Why's that clock so loud.

"Where are your parents?"

"On a date." He said, faking a gag with that goofy little grin.

The gap from when you had knocked his teeth out in the past had gone, grown into his permanent smile now. A lot of the baby fat in his cheeks molded in shape to make way for a more mature look.

He was different.

But that same kid from before had already melted his way to the core parts of your mind.

He was just ... Markus.

"William said you got a girlfriend."

His cheeks turned red and he held a hand to his face. "Damn it, I wanted to tell you first."

You smiled in a way that you hoped was politely.

He fell quiet as he stared at you.

"That's not what I'm here about. I just ...."

"You're not mad?" He asked softly.

You gave him a look. "Why would I be?"

"Nothing! Nothing! I just meant ... uh ... nevermind. You want anything? Snack? A drink? I'll run down and get it for you."

His bed felt soft as you sat in it.

With a quiet decline to his offer, you fell quiet again. Clock ticking away like it didn't care about a thing. You wish you felt the same.

Mark swayed on his feet, looking around for anything distracting. "How's your hand?"

You held it up for him to see.

A hum. Then quiet.

God, why were you still here?

"I uh ... 'm not sure how dating works, how much I'll see you now. So ... I just ... when will you be free? So we can ... hang out," ugh, that felt weird on your tongue. "I don't wanna make an enemy of someone I haven't met."

"Yeah! Yeah, we can hang out! Anytime!" Mark was suddenly next to you on the bed. "And I've been wanting to introduce you to her from the beginning, you're my best friend and all, it'd be great to have you two together."

Those eyes held so much ... what is that? Joy? There was rarely a day he wasn't happy, was there? Rarely a day where it wasn't directed at you.

Your gut tumbled, chest heavy. He was always like this. And you really had been so awful to him. You felt ... guilty.

"I'm free ... Thursday, maybe? Yeah ... I should be .... As of now I am. You and I can head to that old park we used to go to and the mall's just along the way if that gets boring. I'd love to hang out with you! We ... haven't done that in a while ...."

Ow ... that normally sweet smile looked kind of ... sad.

"And Amber's great. She does a lot of that volunteer stuff you see in movies. So she always has something to do. Maybe we can go with her to something like that one day. We'll be helping people out, getting you two acquainted. It'll be fun!"

You tried to mimic his grin.

Maybe it wasn't convincing though. Cause then he got serious. Placing a hand on your shoulder and speaking gently.

"Hey, don't worry. Amber's gonna love you. And I promise I'll still make time for you. Always have, always will."

The pit in your body seemed to get deeper.

That wasn't what you were hoping to get from this.

He pulled you in close. Chin on your head, firm arms wrapped around you, hands warm as they rubbed your back. "Thanks for coming tonight. I was worried about you."

Not that again.

Your brows cinched. Was this normal? Was this the first step towards what William had told you to do?

You still hadn't told him anything.

Hadn't apologized.

But what good would "sorry" be if you didn't really know what caused your hate in the first place?

Your jaw was tight, voice muffled against his shoulder.

"Don't mention it."

[mcsstydia]

Ca. 2013 - Harry Styles Imagine

prompt: kind of a soulmate-y meet-cute: On a lonely Friday night, you decide to go out on your own, only to meet a famous singer who seems to be flirting with you.

pairing: Harry x fem!reader

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption

word count: 2.4k

A/N: Harry has always, always been my favorite person ever, yet I can count on one hand how many pieces I've written about him (one, back in the day on Wattpad). I think I was always a little afraid to not being able to really capture him, or afraid that once I started writing about him, I would never really find a good ending.

Masterlist

Ca. 2013

It was a lonely Friday night, the night you met him. And you meant lonely in every way possible. You were single, your sister was out of town, and none of your friends were free that evening to go to your favorite local bar together.

Doing something you had never done before (but were utterly glad you had done it in hindsight), you went alone. Originally, you had just wanted to prove yourself something. What, you were not quite sure. Maybe that you didn't need your friends to have fun? Maybe that you weren't a loser crying in her bedroom on a Friday night? Maybe something else entirely, or maybe a little bit of both.

So you dressed up and got to the bar around 9pm. Your plan was to have one, maybe two drinks, and then had head home again. As you got your first drink and tried not to look too miserable on your own swiping on Instagram, a group of boys entered the bar. You didn't turn around to look, but it was inevitable to notice them; they were loud, and happy, and really, you were kind of jealous.

You silently rolled your eyes and continued scrolling through various platforms of social media. Your first cocktail was down within another ten minutes, and you were not hesitant to order your second. A silent war began raging in your mind: you couldn't decide between staying in a bad mood and just heading home after this drink, and forcing yourself to being in a good mood and maybe (in your soon-to-be drunken state) making new friends.

The bartender handed you your second cocktail - a strawberry daiquiri - when you noticed a person had appeared next to you at the bar. You could feel their presence next to you, and with that radiated a certain warmth. You tried looking at them through the corner of your eye as you noticed they were already looking at you.

''Waiting for someone?'', a dark, male voice then inquired from right next to you. A shiver ran down your spine for a reason unknown. You turned to look at a handsome boy, maybe your age, maybe a bit older. His green eyes captured your gaze immediately, and for what seemed like a longer than normal amount of time, you couldn't quite look away. ''I wish,'', you muttered, still taking him in, still trying to prove that this person talking to you was not who you thought it was.

But the longer you looked, the more you realized that you weren't mistaken. Talking to you was no other than Harry Styles, member of the biggest boyband in the world. Harry looked at you, one corner of his mouth rising up into the cutest half grin you had ever seen. Whether he knew what you had just figured out or just found you funny, you didn't know.

His grin led you to continue talking. ''All my friends let me down tonight, so I thought I'd come here alone.'', you explained further. Afraid you'd sound pathetic, you finally had the guts to lower your gaze away from his eyes.

''That's bold,'', Harry replied. You looked up again, searching his face for signs of mockery, but weren't able to find any. One of your eyebrows raised in question, and now your lips lifted into a hesitant smile as well. ''You think so?'', you asked. Harry's lips had now twitched into a wholesome smile.

The bartender came and placed a tray of ten beers in front of Harry, and he nodded in appreciation. You thought he would head back to his friends without another word, but before he turned to leave, he leaned down to just above your ear and whispered: ''Well, if I were your friends, I wouldn't have let such a stunning girl go out on her own on a Friday night.''

He straightened up again, and you tried everything not to gawk at him open-mouthed. He shot you a boyish wink and then turned and left. Your heart hammered loudly in your chest. Had Harry Styles just flirted with you? This alone was worth possibly humiliating yourself by going out alone.

You thought about instantly texting your friends the news, but decided to let your sister know instead. As you drank your second drink, you used every possible moment to turn around and search for him in the crowded bar. Two more hours were spent like this, sitting at the bar, sipping another drink and occasionally looking for Harry.

And every once in a while, Harry came back to the bar and every single time he chose the place right next to yours to get another beer. Each time he came back, he opened the conversation another way. It went from something like ''You read a lot?'' as he spotted you trying to tipsily reading your e-book, to asking ''How long you staying?'' as the night grew longer and later.

You tilted your head up to him and grinned. You sat on a bar stool and he was standing, but you'd die to see how much taller than you he really was. God, he was handsome. And you were slowly but surely getting drunk. He returned your smile and searched your eyes for an answer. He seemed more sober than you, despite him having more beer than you had cocktails (well, you weren't quite sure, but he had returned quite often for getting a single beer).

His hand lay next to yours on the counter, and you could've sworn it was tentatively touching yours. You found him so sweet. He was nowhere near the fuckboy and player the media portrayed him to be. He was much too respectful.

''You have really nice teeth,'' you blurted out. ''Anyone ever tell you that?'' His smile widened in response, and he seemed almost bashful at your statement. ''Yeah, maybe one or two people,'', he replied, never losing his grin. A hand ran through his curls in what seemed like a common hand gesture.

He locked his gaze to yours again and scanned your face. For what, you weren't really sure. For a second, you thought his eyes lingered on your lips. But then the moment passed, and suddenly you felt embarrassed at thinking a star like him would make out with a random girl on a random Friday night.

You straightened in your seat and looked away from him, as if he could somehow read your mind and see how embarrassed you were. ''I think,'', you started, then turned to him for what you thought would be your last interaction. ''I think I'm heading home soon,''. you replied, forcing yourself to smile. His eyebrows furrowed as he studied your face now, seeming confused at your turn of conversation.

''Oh,'' he seemed disappointed. ''Well then, let me know when you're heading out, yeah?'', he asked, also showing a forced smile now. You nodded in reply, not losing your fake smile as he turned to his friends again.

A few minutes later, after having paid for your drinks, you thought about what he had asked of you. But then again, how embarrassing would that be? Going over to his friends to let him know you'd be gone? For what exactly? For him to awkwardly wave goodbye to you and his friends eyeing you as a potential stalker? No thanks.

So you swung your bag over your shoulder, slid off the high bar stool and headed for the door. Once outside, the cool air felt anything but refreshing. It felt more suffocating than the cramped bar-air. You wrapped your arms around yourself and looked up at the sky, willing the tears from pooling in your eyes.

What was going on with you? Why were you all worked up over some guy in a bar you'd met only a few hours prior? Sure, he was a star, but that was not it, you could tell. You never had an issue with catching feelings for a guy too early. If anything, you were usually the one to fall too late. But this? You couldn't place it, but your chest tightened painfully at the thought of leaving the bar and the possibility (more like, fact) of never seeing him again other than on your TV at home.

You shivered at the thought and took a tentative step towards the street to catch a taxi. Suddenly, you felt a large hand gently gripping your upper arm. You whirled around in shock but recognized him immediately. He kept his gentle hold on you as you looked up into his mesmerizing green eyes. God, he was so much taller than you. ''You said you'd let me know,'', he said lowly, eyes scanning your face just like they had back in the bar.

You weren't quite sure what to reply. You couldn't even begin to describe what you were feeling now that he was back with you. It was calming, knowing the interaction in the bar hadn't been your last, yes, but everything else was so far from calm. Your stomach twisted in on itself as if it planned to hug itself and your heart beat furiously. ''I-I...'', you stammered.

Harry loosened his grip around your upper arm and instead let it, ever so tentatively, wrap around the small of your back. You liked the feeling of being held by him, of standing in his embrace, of feeling the heat radiating off him and onto you. ''I'm sorry,'', you finally muttered, and tried looking away from him.

''Hey, hey,'', he tried tilting your chin back to him without forcing you. ''What's happening? Why do I keep losing you right when I think...'', he trailed off. Now it was his turn to look away, and your turn to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. ''Right when you think what?'', you inquired. In trying to get him to look at you again, you tentatively lay your hand on his chest. His chest heaved heavily upon this touch, and for a second, you thought you'd done something he didn't want you to do.

You were in the process of taking it away again, when his hand - the one that wasn't still laying on your back - grabbed your hand and looked you in the eyes. The eye contact was intense and neither of you dared break it. ''I'm being super bold right now,'', he started, still never breaking eye contact. ''Almost as bold as the most beautiful girl I have ever seen going into a bar all on her own,'', he continued, and a smile tugged at your lips.

''I don't really know what's going on right now, but I'm feeling things right now that I have never felt before, and I'm very close to begging - which I have also never done - you to tell me you feel at least some of it, too.'', he exhaled with the last word and made your breath pick up. You searched his eyes for mockery again, and just like earlier, you couldn't find any.

''I do,'', you replied finally. It was visible that Harry had to take that answer in for a minute. Afterwards, his lips exploded into a huge grin again and he suddenly wrapped his arms, and his whole body, really, around you in a hug. He laughed into your shoulder and you giggled in response. You stood like that for a long while, the both of you slowly and gently stroking the back of the other through your jackets in the chilly July night.

Finally, Harry slowly straightened up again. Seemingly never wanting to lose your touch, he tentatively raised both of his hands and gently cupped your face. One hand found a single strand of hair and tucked it behind your ear. ''I'm sorry if this is too much and please feel free to say no but...'', he exhaled, and his eyes shimmered with happiness in the misty street light. ''Can I kiss you?'', he asked. (As already mentioned, he's respectful). Your stomach, never getting a break from tossing and turning, somehow did a double flip and you willed your heart not to give you a heart attack before being kissed by him.

You nodded and he grinned - impossibly - wider, before slowly leaning down to your face. His plump lips found yours immediately and engulfed them in a gentle kiss. His hands still held your face and stroked a few strand of hair and his lips repeatedly found yours in soft kisses. The feeling of being kissed by him was close to being indescribable.

The world started spinning around you and you kissed him back with a need you had never felt with anyone else before. His lips were soft and tasted both of chap stick and of cheap beer. After minutes of kissing and giggling and not really believing what was happening, he took one of your hands into his large, soft ones.

''Can I get you home safe, please? I would really like to get to know you.'', he said sincerely. You raised up on your tip toes and placed a short kiss to his lips. ''Only if you stay.'', you whispered. And both things, he did.

Ca. 2023

Ten years later, life was nowhere near what you'd imagined it at 19 years old going into a bar. Whatever fate had planned when both Harry and you stepped into that bar the same night, the same time, it had worked out.

After that night, you had gotten to know, and eventually, to love each other. Though the latter didn't really take long. It felt as if there had been an invisible string between the two of you all along, and as you finally met, everything else seemed to fall into place on its own.

You had seen each other through all kinds of phases, and you had stayed through each. Some weren't easy, but neither of you ever doubted that you were meant to be together.

Right now, you were watching him perform his last song of his biggest solo tour yet, and you couldn't be prouder. Backstage, he came sprinting for you, and wrapped your body up in his arms, lifting your feet from the ground. He breathed you in. ''I'm so proud of you,'', you mumbled into his hair while gently stroking it and kissing his cheek.

He slowly put you down again and passionately kissed your lips. Your lips tingled just like the first time he had kissed you. ''Thank you, love. Couldn't have done it without you.'', he said, before kissing you again. ''I love you,'', you whispered. He grinned like he had the first time you said those words. ''I love you more''.

[neowqing]

Sirius noticed the way James, Remus and Peter's eyes were fixed on Severus, now that Evans wasn't defending him, and after they'd stripped him in the courtyard, something was off. The way Peter's gaze lingered, the way Remus tried to get closer uncomfortably, and the way James' hand was clutching Severus' clothes in a tight grip, everyone was looking for an excuse to get closer, and Sirius was very unhappy about it.

Sirius Black could have been in love with some pureblood lady, good family, nice looks, maybe he could have been with some muggle-born, anything to defy his parents, she would have shown him a real world full of something more interesting than fancy dinners with snobs, but he was obsessed with Severus Snape. From the first year, from the first look, the first fight, Severus had been his, and to neglect it any longer could lead to something Sirius would never allow.

Luckily for Sirius, he was handsome, wealthy, still inherited, and all too aware that Severus was watching. The way the little snake squirms when Sirius disregards his knowledge and uses it for a joke, the way he rolls his eyes when Sirius is with a girl. Lily had once said that they weren't as bad as Severus had complained, and that Sirius wasn't the horrible, tactless, ill-mannered stray dog that Severus had said he was, the others he had generally referred to as marauders. Sirius then shook his head, Severus thinks about him, especially him, complains, singles him out, and oh, he absolutely completely understands the kind of person Sirius is.

So when Sirius closes the door to the room he's shoved Severus into, he sees a scared rabbit, with poison in his mouth, so unique. Snape looks like a miserable kitten living on the street, being bullied by other animals, but he is full of energy to lash out in revenge, he is not beautiful in the conventional sense, he is interesting, perfect, the way Sirius wants him to be.

Black doesn't talk, he doesn't explain when he kisses and squeezes, Severus is bony, too much so, but still Ideal for Sirius' hands. Snape tries to get out of it for the first ten seconds before giving in, opening his mouth, Sirius knew Severus was his, and Severus was of the same mind.

Sirius isn't getting enough kisses, he fucks Snape up against the wall while Severus digs his blunt nails into Sirius' forearms, leaving marks under his clothes too, Sirius is left hickeys and bites, high up on his neck for all to see, he even tried to bite Severus' cheek but got a smack on the head for it, giving up the idea.

This is no joke, so he helps Severus clean up, sitting Severus down on the table because his legs are still not functioning well, Sirius pulls the pendant out of his pocket.

"Ta da" he shows a simple chain with a family ring on it, not the famous Black ring because it is recognisable, but it is also from the house of purebloods, something that screams wealth and protection.

" And?" Severus looks at it as if it were some unnecessary trinket Sirius puts on, placing it on top of his clothes so it's visible.

"And nothing, your highness"

It's a good move, the next time James wants to touch Severus, Sirius stops him by the arm, nodding towards the ring.

"We don't want any trouble," Sirius whispers in his ear, pulling his friend away, the other two following. Sirius turns back to Severus, who is all too happy about it.

"Sirius can I have a word?" Remus calls them to a corner of the common room. "It's not that I'm doing it on purpose, it's just an accident, you know, but you and Severus, you smell like each other."

Sirius smiles, yes, an accident, as if he hadn't seen how much deeper Remus was sniffing next to Snape.

"Moony," Sirius pulls out, "do what you always do, pretend not to notice and keep quiet."

Sirius finishes with a toothy grin, returning to the sofa, to the loud circle of conversation and jokes. Maybe he'll invite his friends to his wedding to Snape, he thinks about it.

[peachhcs]

a perfect birthday

figure skater x macklin celebrini au (blaire + mack)

summary: macklin made sure to return the favor and gave blaire the best 19th birthday she could've asked for

words: 3k 

author's note: y'all i'm so bad i said i was going to post this yesterday and then i never did. here's mack taking blaire around for her birthday and surprising her with little gifts throughout the day :) can be read as a part 2 to the social media fic or just a stand alone (longest fic in this au??)

au masterlist | part one

the day started similarly to how mack's birthday began. blaire woke up to a hundred texts from mack and friends wishing her a happy birthday. she smiled brightly, quickly responding to everyone before rushing out of bed to get ready. it was her idea for her and mack to go golfing bright and early as hard as it was to believe. blaire never minded watching her boyfriend hit a little ball around a course for two hours because that just meant she got to spend more time with him. plus, what else was she going to do on her birthday? mack promised a full day of fun, so she excited to see what he came up with. 

after braiding her hair back, the dirty blonde packed her small bag with snacks, water, and a few different sharpies where she would sit and decorate mack's golf balls for him so he had something pretty to look at. the boy pulled up to her apartment promptly at 8 knowing getting there early meant they'd beat the rush later in the day. blaire ran down the steps, emerging from the front doors with a big smile on her face when she saw the boy already waiting against his car for her. 

"happy birthday, love," macklin exclaimed while lifting her into his arms for a hug. the girl was grinning from ear to ear, "thank you! i can't believe we only have one more year left of being a teenager now," blaire said, pinching his cheeks when he set her down. his face reddened a bit, but he didn't pull away from her. 

"how do you feel? older? wiser?" 

"i guess so. i hope you brought a lot of golf balls because i brought a lot of sharpies," blaire giggled as she climbed into the car and mack met her on the other side. 

"i have a bag full, i'll let you take them when we get there. first though, i stopped and got you your coffee and a birthday donut. boston cream," the boy revealed the hidden dunkin bag and blaire's eyes widened. 

"you remembered! thank you," she happily took them and made sure to press a soft kiss to his cheek. 

"of course i did. one of many birthday treats." 

blaire began munching on the donut while mack got them back onto the road. she had never been more content before, sitting in her pro hockey player boyfriend’s car with a donut and coffee that he knew so well he didn't even need to ask what her order was. how much better could it get? not to mention, the said hockey player was her best friend. 

the drive to the local course was short and sweet. macklin had a membership, so all he had to do was to flash his card at the window and they were in without any problems. the parking lot was fairly empty still, so that meant they'd get pretty far before more people began showing up for the day. 

"the goal is 11," mack hummed, glancing at the clock on the dash. 

"that would be a new record for you," the dirty blonde laughed. any other time she tagged along with mack and will or maybe a few other guys, it felt like they were there for a whole day. three hours would be impressive for him. 

"well, it's just me and you watching, so i think i can move it along," the boy grinned. blaire leaned forward to peck his lips before jumping out of the car, but mack stopped her. "wait, i have a gift for you." 

"for me? you spending the whole day with me is enough of a gift," she rolled her eyes, but was secretly eager when she watched him pull out a rather large box from under his seat. he was just full of surprises. 

mack only shrugged as he passed the blue box over. the figure skater eyed him, but quickly tore into the bow and wasted no time pulling the top off. he must've gotten better at wrapping in their time apart. inside, blaire laid her eyes on a beautiful pair of brown leg warmers and a vest to wear over her compression shirts because she always told mack how convenient and more breathable they were. 

"mack. you got all of this for me?" she was shocked and in awe. 

the brunette blushed, "you kept telling me how you were dying to get a new one because your vest was so old. i saw those while also shopping for the vest and thought you would like them." 

"i love them. thank you. you're so sweet," she jumped across the center to engulf him in her arms. macklin laughed, squeezing her tight before letting her go again. "i can't wait to wear this now. i love you," blaire kissed him again and he loved seeing that wide smile on her lips, especially when he was the cause. 

coming second to physical touch, mack was definitely a gift giver. he loved surprising blaire with little things whenever he saw her, so he was glad she liked the gifts he picked out. he couldn't wait to give her more a little later because now, it was time to golf and if mack wanted to be done by 11, he needed to start now. 

luckily, it wasn't too hot out, so the couple enjoyed the drive over the greens. blaire had her usual spot in the passenger side where she had a bagful of mack's golf balls to draw on. she was becoming quite creative with the designs after getting inspiration on tiktok and pinterest. the brunette loved getting to look over and see her sitting all pretty in the cart with her tongue stuck out while focusing. this was his idea of a perfect life. 

sometimes blaire would get out and hold the flag while mack putted into the hole. her little happy jumps anytime he did it one try always made him smile. he even started getting a kiss each time he putt the ball in one. 

they were on the 15th hole when blaire got a text from carter. she smiled seeing the happy birthday text with a bunch of different emojis, quickly responding back. 

carter 

happy birthday loser!!! 🤪🥳🤓😱🙉🎂🎈

blaire

thank you!!! miss u wish we were celebrating together

carter 

thinking of u bc i got a boston cream donut this morning

blaire

me too!!! mack got me one :) 

carter 

hope ur day is awesome thanks for being a great big sister

his last message warmed her heart. it was hard to be away from him since this was the first birthday in awhile that she wasn't at home, but they both knew she was having a lot more fun in san jose. 

blaire half expected a message from mason, but she also knew it was a long shot to think he would text her. she hadn't talked to him in almost two months. he was off somewhere in ireland and the last time she saw him once when the whole family dropped him off at the airport. it was sad, but a bit awkward since he hardly even gave a goodbye. 

"hey, you okay?" mack walked over to the cart after hitting his ball. he noticed the long expression her face. 

"hmm? i'm good," blaire snapped out her thoughts, but the rookie knew her better than that. he just gave her a look instead of saying anything, "carter texted me happy birthday and it made me smile, but then i was thinking about mason." 

"do you think he'll text you?" mack wondered as he climbed back into the cart.

"probably not, but it's fine, i don't really care." 

the boy put his hand on her thigh as a way to tell her he was there for her without saying it. sometimes the actions meant more than the words and blaire appreciated it. she squeezed his hand with her own and cuddled into him as they drove to where his ball landed. 

"can i see your designs so far?" mack wondered before he got out again. blaire eagerly dug into the bag where every single one of them was decorated in a different design and color. 

"this one's my favorite," she showed him the one where she drew the shark's mascot and then around the ball was teal and gray zig-zagged lines. 

"woah, this is awesome. i may have to display this one," the brunette grinned. 

"you can look through all of them. i think they came out really well," blaire giggled. the hockey player leaned forward to plant a big kiss to her lips. all she did was giggle and push him away so he could finish the hole. 

by the time they were done, it was closer to 11:30. "hey, i was close," the boy argued. 

"maybe it would've taken you less time if you didn't kiss me after every hole," blaire teased a bit and she liked how her boyfriend's face reddened a deep shade of crimson. 

"hey. they're birthday kisses. here's one more for 19," and he leaned forward again. the figure skater was not complaining though. she loved having mack's lips on hers. they were always so soft and tasted like whatever soda he was drinking. 

"when we get back we can change and then i am taking you out to lunch," mack revealed their next plans. 

"ooh, where?" 

"it's a surprise," he hummed as they pulled out of the parking lot which had become a lot more busier as the day persisted. 

because mack thought ahead, he packed different clothes so he didn't have to drive all the way back to his place when they got back to blaire's apartment. he followed her inside where she warned him that it was a bit of mess because she hadn't done dishes since yesterday afternoon and she stressed doing laundry last night. the boy didn't care though, eagerly running to the bathroom to pee while blaire went to find a new outfit for lunch. 

she decided on pink, babydoll tank top and a jean skirt, a sorority staple during recruitment season. mack reemerged from the bathroom in a nice blue button down a black shorts. he smiled when he saw blaire's outfit. 

"you look pretty," he hummed, clasping his hands around her waist. 

"you look pretty too. do i need anything else?" she wondered and he shook his head. 

"nope, just your pretty little self," he kissed her again before they headed back out. 

mack drove them into downtown all while blaire just kept trying to guess where the reservation was. the hockey player had a great poker face though and never cracked until he pulled into a parking space in front of mastro's steakhouse which was one of blaire's favorites. they went here when they first started dating again and the girl had never stopped talking about it since. 

"oh shit! i should have known. i'm so excited and so hungry," the girl exclaimed. mack took her hand and they walked in together, greeted with a smile by the hostess. 

"for celebrini?" mack said and she nodded. "follow me." 

the hostess took the couple around the corner to one of the tables by the window. blaire was too caught up in the ambiance and decorations of the place that she didn't see two people are sitting at the table with their faces covered by menu's. mack nudged her arm, smiling a bit mischievously when blaire looked at them and then at the table. she grew confused until the two slowly peeked their eyes over the menu and blaire quickly recognized them. 

"holy shit. no way!!" the dirty blonde jumped up in excitement. samy and will completely showed their faces, samy getting up to hug her. 

"happy birthday, blaire!!" 

"what are you doing here?" the figure skater was in so much shock. 

"a little birdie told us it was your birthday," samy laughed and let her hug will too. 

"i was just thinking about how excited i am to be at the lake house for the first time next month. what a nice surprise," blaire beamed and quickly found her seat. 

"so how's your birthday been so far?" samy wondered. 

"it's been good. mack and i went golfing this morning," she smiled at her boyfriend beside her. 

"aw did you have to drag her out?" will teased. 

"no, she actually wanted to go," mack said. 

"that's a first. samy hates going golfing with me," will looked at his girl and she rolled her eyes. 

"i do not. i wouldn't go every day, but i will go occasionally." 

"doesn't she whip your ass at it?" macklin raised his eyebrow and will flushed. 

"no. she doesn't. she does do very well though," the blonde defended himself while everyone laughed. 

the four took turns catching up with one another. samy filled blaire in on the past semester while blaire talked about her own too. the boys didn't have much to say besides hockey, but it wasn't much new news from them. they just happily listened to their girlfriends yap away about this, that, and the other. 

"so how's everyone else been? gabe? emma? julianne? ryan? hannah?" blaire still hadn't officially met all of them yet, only talking over random instagram comments, but she was excited to formally meet them in michigan. 

"they're good. uh, let's see...ryan's in mass with julie. hannah's in michigan and long island with james—oh, she's gonna be here for the draft on friday, so maybe we can all get together. gabe and emma are back together, so that's good," samy explained each of their friends' whereabouts this summer. 

"really? oh, i'm glad. i felt so bad," blaire frowned. 

"yeah, they're good now," samy smiled. 

"gabo was classy with it, don't worry. he took her on a sunset dinner cruise," will chuckled. 

"damn, he's already putting that league money to use," the boys shared a laugh at the joke. 

"wow, i can't believe it's already draft season again. do i know anyone who's in?" blaire wondered. 

"james hagens, hannah's boyfriend, is. uhh, matt schaefer but i don't really know him. michael misa.." samy hummed. 

"i've heard all of those names i think. that's exciting," blaire nodded. 

"dude, that schaefer kid is good. the islanders will be getting a good one. they think haggy's going philly," will informed his knowledge. 

"dude, i know. some tough competition. philly would be good for hags, i could see that," mack nodded in agreement. blaire wasn't that knowledgeable in hockey, so she looked at samy for help on the lingo the boys were using. the brunette chuckled and explained what blaire didn't understand. 

the rest of lunch went well. the four talked about everything they had missed while being apart and at the end, samy promised they'd get together again before she went back to michigan with will. blaire loved how inseparable the older couple was and how they always went where the other was when they didn't have other obligations going on. she hoped her and mack could become like them. 

"sooo?" the young rookie wondered when they got back into the car. 

"best surprise ever. that was so fun," the dirty blonde beamed. 

"they thought it would be fun to surprise you since they were already gonna be in town for the draft this weekend. samy was all for it when i brought the idea up," mack explained. 

"thank you, i love getting to hang out with them. they're so..mom and dad already you know? like i can't wait for their wedding," that made the two laugh.

"yeah, tell me about it." 

the couple was tired after such a big lunch, so they headed back to blaire's apartment for some much needed rest after getting up so early. mack apparently had another gift up his sleeve when he revealed another box once they were inside. 

"what is this? you didn't get me something else. you just paid for my lunch," the girl laughed as she became curious as to what else her boyfriend could've gotten her. she was just being spoiled today. 

"i think you'll like it," the boy hummed and watched with a smile as she unwrapped the mystery. 

one thing about blaire was that she was a huge reader. she loved to read in her free time and mack really loved that about her, especially when all she talked about was the latest book she'd been reading, so mack got her the throne of glass book series she'd been raving about and dying to read, she just hadn't made it to the book store yet. when the wrapping flew off blaire's eyes widened in disbelief when she saw the entire series sitting in her lap. 

"oh my god you didn't!" she looked over at her boyfriend in surprise. 

"you kept telling me how much you wanted to read the series, so i got it for you so you don't have to get it now," the boy smiled. 

"i love you, i love you, i love you. you know me so well," she jumped up to kiss him. 

the girl couldn't have asked for a better birthday because she got to spend it with the one person who knew her better than anyone. they changed into more comfortable clothes and blaire immediately settled onto the couch to start reading the first book. she never needed a huge party or big gifts, just something easy and simple like laying on the couch with mack at her side as he dozed off for a nap after spending the whole morning golfing 18 holes by himself. 

blaire was tight in his hold and she giggled when she heard soft snores falling from his lips so quickly. it never took long for him to crash. she gently kissed his forehead, whispering a soft thank you before spending the rest of her birthday in his arms reading. 

how could it get better? 

[hhoneycloves]

Sandbox scenario where Machine/JWr Mind and @randaccidents Vital/Heartless Heart are reunited for the first time since Lost in a Dream and make a complete and utter fool of themselves in public about it

[inseobts]

OHHHH I GOT AN AMAZING IDEA WHAT IF READER DOESN'T GIVE ONE PIECE MEN A KISS BACK AFTER THEY KISSED READER?

Please Kiss Back!

gn!reader

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, law and ace

words count: around 0.9k - 1.9k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

The crew is scattered around the ship, busy with their usual antics, but you’re sitting on the deck with Luffy, legs dangling over the edge.

He’s in an especially good mood today,not that it’s unusual, but there’s a certain spark in his grin, an extra bounce in his movements. You don’t think much of it. It’s Luffy, after all.

And then, suddenly, he kisses you.

It’s quick, impulsive, but undeniably a kiss.

Your entire body goes stiff and your mind goes blank.

Luffy pulls back just as easily as he leaned in, smiling like he just did the most natural thing in the world.

“Heh, that was nice” he says, tilting his head “Right?”

But you don’t move. You don’t say anything. You just sit there, eyes wide, heart hammering against your ribs.

Luffy’s smile falters. His head tilts the other way now, brows slightly furrowed “Huh? You didn’t kiss me back.”

You see the confusion in his face, hear it in his voice. He isn’t upset, Luffy doesn’t get upset about things like this, but he’s puzzled.

“Did I do it wrong?”

His voice is quieter now.

Panic surges through you “Wha—no! No, you didn’t—” You shake your head quickly, your thoughts scrambling together “I just… I wasn’t expecting it!”

Luffy blinks at you “Why not?”

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What are you supposed to say? Because you’re my captain? Because you never act romantic? Because I didn’t think you even thought about kissing people?

Luffy watches you, waiting for an answer. His usual carefree energy is still there, but for once, you see something else in his eyes. A flicker of uncertainty.

“Oh.” He leans back, rubbing his nose “So you didn’t want me to?”

Your heart drops.

“No!” You nearly shout, grabbing his wrist before he can pull away completely “That’s not it!”

Luffy blinks at you again, mouth slightly open like he’s waiting for an explanation.

You inhale sharply. Screw it.

You lean forward and kiss him.

This time, you make sure he feels it.

Luffy freezes for half a second, probably because he wasn’t expecting it, but then, just as quickly, he melts into it. His lips are warm, a little chapped from the salty sea air, but soft against yours. His hands hover for a moment before he grabs your shoulders, steadying himself as he grins into the kiss.

When you finally pull back, breath a little uneven, he laughs.

“Ohhh, so you do wanna kiss me!”

Your face burns “I—Shut up!”

Luffy just grins wider, pulling you into his chest like he didn’t just shake your entire world “You’re funny, Y/N,” he says, resting his chin on your head. “I’m gonna kiss you all the time now!”

You groan into his shirt. What have you gotten yourself into?

You’re still pressed against Luffy’s chest, your face burning as he laughs. The warmth of his body seeps into you, and his chin rests comfortably on top of your head, like he’s perfectly content to stay like this forever.

“I’m gonna kiss you all the time now, I’m gonna kiss you all the time now, I’m gonna kiss you all the time now, I’m gonna kiss you all the ti—” he says, his voice filled with the same carefree confidence he uses when talking about becoming Pirate King.

You groan into his shirt, trying to push away, but his arms tighten around you.

“Luffy!”

“What?” He tilts his head, grinning “You kissed me back, so that means you like it, right?”

You open your mouth to argue but nothing comes out. Because… he’s right. You did kiss him back. You wanted to. You just hadn’t expected him to be so Luffy about it.

“That’s not the point” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

He laughs again, a happy, carefree sound “Then what’s the point?”

You pull back just enough to look at him, and immediately regret it. He’s staring at you with those big, curious eyes, his face close enough that you can still feel the warmth of his breath. He isn’t teasing you, not really... he’s just genuinely waiting for an answer, like he doesn’t understand why you’re so flustered.

And that makes it worse.

You shove your hands against his chest, trying to put some distance between you “You can’t just—just say stuff like that!”

“Why not?” Luffy pouts.

“Because it’s embarrassing!”

He laughs harder “But you’re cute when you’re embarrassed!”

You swear your soul leaves your body “LUFFY—”

He suddenly leans in again, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before you can stop him.

“Mmm, yeah, I like this,” he says, nodding to himself “I’m definitely gonna do it a lot.”

Your brain malfunctions.

“You—! I—!” You can’t even form a sentence.

Luffy just beams “You can kiss me too, y’know.”

Your face somehow gets even hotter “I KNOW!”

His grin widens, and then before you can react he jumps to his feet, stretching his arms.

“Alright! I’m hungry!” He looks down at you, still sitting there, completely overwhelmed “C’mon, let’s go get something to eat!”

He grabs your hand before you can protest and starts dragging you toward the kitchen, like nothing just happened.

Like he didn’t just turn your world upside down.

Like he didn’t just kiss you twice, steal your breath, and then immediately think about food.

You let him pull you along, still dazed, as your fingers stay laced with his.

Luffy is impossible, but that’s why you like him so much.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

The sound of swords clashing echoes throughout the quiet ship as the crew enjoys their evening. You sit on the railing, your legs dangling, watching the stars as the ship cruises along. Zoro is nearby, practicing his swordplay as usual, his focus unwavering.

You’ve been in a strange mood today, frustrated, angry, even a little annoyed, but you didn’t want to take it out on Zoro. You just needed some time to think, and he had given you that. But when you saw him practicing so intensely, your irritation began to simmer.

It had been an argument earlier. Not a huge one, but one that still left a bad taste in your mouth. Zoro had made a careless comment about something that had happened during the last fight, something trivial, but it had stuck with you, and now, as you watch him swing his swords with that unshakable intensity, you can’t help but feel more upset.

Zoro finishes his set, wiping the sweat from his brow. His eyes catch yours, and without saying anything, he walks over to you. You remain where you are, not bothering to look at him. The quiet tension between the two of you feels thicker now, and you can almost hear the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“What’s wrong?” Zoro asks, his voice unusually soft, as he stops a few steps in front of you. He might not always say much, but Zoro knows when something is off with you.

You sigh, leaning back slightly on the railing, crossing your arms “Nothing.”

You know Zoro won’t take that for an answer, but you don’t feel like talking about it. You don’t want to have another one of those half-formed conversations that end up with him brushing it off or getting frustrated with you. He’s not one for deep talks, and you don’t want to drag him into it.

Zoro, being Zoro, doesn’t give up. He steps closer, standing directly in front of you, his tall frame looming over you. He doesn’t push, but the intensity in his gaze is hard to ignore.

“Y/N,” he says, a hint of concern sneaking into his usually blunt tone “You’ve been weird all day.”

You feel your anger stir again, that feeling of being dismissed or misunderstood growing. Without thinking, you snap at him “I’m fine, alright? Just… don’t worry about it.”

The words are harsher than you intended, and you immediately regret them. But you’ve already said it, and the frustration that’s been building up inside you has no outlet other than Zoro at the moment.

Zoro blinks, clearly taken aback by your sudden sharpness. There’s a brief pause, and for a moment, you think he’ll retreat, that he’ll walk away like he usually does when he doesn’t understand. But instead, he leans in closer, his face now inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“You know I don’t like it when you’re upset, right?” His voice is low, almost a growl.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and the irritation that had flared up earlier starts to subside just a little. But your pride is still holding on, and you don’t want to let it go so easily “I’m not upset” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, and you turn your head away, hoping he’ll just leave it alone.

Zoro doesn’t move, though. He’s still right in front of you, and his eyes are fixed on you with that intense gaze of his, like he’s seeing through you, reading everything you’re trying to hide.

And then, without warning, Zoro leans in and kisses you.

His lips are firm, yet gentle, pressing softly against yours. You don’t kiss him back immediately. Instead, you sit there, frozen, eyes wide in shock. Your heart races, and for a second, you’re not sure how to react.

Zoro pulls back just slightly, his gaze still locked with yours, waiting. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a faint trace of something in his gaze, concern, maybe? He wants an answer. He wants to know what’s wrong.

You should have kissed him back, but you didn’t. The confusion, the frustration, it all bubbles up again, and you’re not sure why you’re holding back this time.

Zoro doesn’t say anything at first, but he waits. His hand gently brushes against your cheek, as if trying to coax a response out of you “Why didn’t you kiss me back?”

You try to speak, but no words come out at first. You don’t want to tell him the truth, that you’re angry, that you don’t know how to explain what’s really bothering you.

You finally exhale, your voice softer than before “I was mad. At you.”

Zoro blinks in surprise, and for a moment, you think he’ll get defensive, like he always does when he doesn’t understand something. But instead, he simply nods. His eyes soften, and his fingers gently trace your jawline as if to remind you that he’s not going anywhere.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says quietly. His voice is surprisingly gentle, his usual gruffness gone “But if something’s wrong, you know you can tell me.”

You sigh, your anger finally dissipating as you look up at him. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he’s trying to meet you halfway. You can feel the weight of your pride slipping away, and you hate that you let it build up this far.

You close the gap between you, leaning in to kiss him, this time responding wholeheartedly. It’s slow at first, but it deepens as you feel the tension release from your shoulders. You kiss him like you’ve missed him, like you didn’t realize just how badly you needed this connection.

When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his, breathing heavily “I’m sorry,” you whisper “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”

Zoro chuckles softly, his hand cupping your face “Don’t apologize. I get it.”

You smile, and for the first time today, the weight that had been dragging on you fades away completely.

Zoro’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer “But next time, you’ll kiss me back, right?”

You laugh softly, feeling the heat of his chest against yours “I promise.”

And this time, when he kisses you again, you kiss him back without hesitation.

You pull back slightly from the kiss, your breath still heavy, and the silence between you both feels different now, softer, more understanding. Zoro doesn’t speak at first, but his arms remain tightly around you, his fingers brushing gently through your hair, as if he’s making sure you’re still there, still with him.

For a moment, you both just stand there in the quiet night, the ship gently rocking beneath your feet. The stars above are bright, casting a peaceful glow over the deck. It’s in these moments that you realize how much Zoro means to you. Even when you’re angry, even when you push him away, he never truly goes anywhere. He might not say a lot, but his actions speak louder than anything else.

“You know, you’re a real pain sometimes” you murmur, leaning into him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Zoro chuckles softly, his lips brushing against the top of your head “You’re the one who doesn’t kiss me back.” His voice is teasing now, and the warmth of his hands against your back makes you feel safe, despite everything.

You smile, finally allowing yourself to fully relax in his embrace “I know. I’m sorry about that. I just…” You hesitate, unsure of how to express yourself “I didn’t want to drag you into my mood. It wasn’t about you.”

Zoro doesn’t respond immediately, but his hand moves to gently lift your chin, so that you’re looking up at him. His green eyes are soft, understanding. He looks at you the way he always does when he knows there’s more you’re not saying, like he’s giving you the space to figure it out yourself, but also offering his support.

“You don’t have to protect me from your mood, Y/N,” Zoro says quietly, his thumb gently grazing your cheek “You know that, right?”

You blink up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his words. It’s rare for him to be this open, to say something so vulnerable. Zoro’s never been one for words, always more about actions. But when he does speak, it’s clear he means it.

“I know,” you murmur, feeling your heart swell in your chest “I guess I just didn’t want to make it worse.”

Zoro shakes his head, his hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you even closer “You can’t make it worse, Y/N. I’ve been with you long enough to know that.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, and for a moment, the world feels lighter. Maybe it’s because you’re finally opening up to him, maybe it’s because you realize that, despite all your pride, Zoro has always been the one who sees right through you.

The air between you two seems to change, the tension now replaced by an unspoken understanding. Zoro leans down again, capturing your lips in a much slower, more deliberate kiss this time. It’s deep and meaningful, not rushed like before, and you kiss him back just as intensely. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just the feeling of his lips against yours, and the reassuring presence of his hands wrapped around you.

When you finally pull away, you smile softly up at him, feeling like everything that had been weighing on your shoulders is finally gone.

“Better?” he asks, his voice a little gruff, but with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You nod, leaning your forehead against his “Much better. Thanks, Zoro.”

He smirks, giving you a gentle, teasing squeeze “I don’t need thanks. Just kiss me back and we’ll be fine.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you at the thought of him being this open with you. Zoro might not always know the right words to say, but the way he takes care of you, without question, speaks more than anything he could say aloud.

“Deal.” You smile, finally feeling at ease, as you stand there together in the quiet night, just the two of you, with the stars as your only witnesses.

Zoro leans in to kiss you again, but this time, he pulls back just before your lips meet.

“You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” he teases with that familiar mischievous smirk.

You roll your eyes playfully but don’t hold back when you respond this time. You kiss him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Does that answer your question?” you whisper, as you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, the moonlight catching the green in them.

Zoro’s grin widens, and you know, without a doubt, that everything is going to be alright. Even in the moments of silence, when words are hard to come by, you know you can always count on him.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

The kitchen feels quieter now, the only sound being the gentle crackle of the stove and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables. You stand at the counter, your hands busy with the meal, but your mind is far from the task at hand. You feel a weight on your chest that you can’t quite shake off... guilt.

Sanji had left the kitchen earlier, giving you the space you had asked for, but the sadness in his eyes lingers in your thoughts. You didn’t mean to hurt him, but you’re not sure how to fix this.

You’ve always loved how Sanji dotes on you, how tender he is despite his usual flirtatious attitude, and yet, today, something in you snapped. The moment he had kissed you and you hadn’t kissed him back, the look on his face was more than you could handle. You could still feel the sting of his disappointment. It’s one thing to have an argument, to be upset about something that happened, but the thought that you could break his heart over something so small, something so trivial, makes you feel worse than ever.

Your knife clinks against the counter, the task you’re supposed to be focusing on now forgotten, your gaze drifting to the door.

Just as you’re about to give in and seek him out, you hear the faint sound of footsteps. You don’t need to look to know who it is. You can feel Sanji’s presence always manages to fill a room.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft, hesitant, and you can hear the uncertainty beneath it. You turn to face him, and there he is, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His usual confident, charming smile is nowhere to be seen. Instead, he looks… small. Vulnerable, even. It hurts more than you thought it would.

You can’t meet his eyes at first, your gaze flicking to the counter instead, your hands nervously adjusting the utensils “Sanji… I—” Your throat tightens, the apology catching in your voice.

He doesn’t move, not yet, waiting for you to gather your words. The silence stretches on, heavier than you want it to be, but eventually, Sanji steps forward. The faint sound of his shoes tapping against the wooden floor rings through your ears as he approaches. He doesn’t say anything at first, and for a moment, you think maybe he’ll just walk away again, leaving you both in that uncomfortable space.

But instead, he reaches out, gently cupping your face in his hands, and guides your eyes to meet his. His gaze is soft, but there’s something behind it, something that makes your heart ache.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he says quietly, his voice nearly a whisper “I don’t care if you’re angry or upset, but when you push me away like that, it makes me feel like I did something wrong.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. Your heart lurches in your chest as you realize just how deeply you’ve hurt him with your silence.

“Sanji…” you start, but your voice falters. What can you say to fix it? How do you explain that it wasn’t him, it was you? That you didn’t know how to communicate what was bothering you?

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his head resting against yours. You can feel the warmth of his chest against you, his breath soft and steady. You let yourself relax into him, for once letting go of the pride you’ve been holding onto so tightly. You know you’ve hurt him, and you can feel the guilt eating away at you.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he murmurs, his hands soothingly running through your hair “I know you’re not always in the mood for affection, but I… I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, and finally allow yourself to melt into his touch “I’m sorry, Sanji,” you whisper, your voice filled with regret “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s not you, I was just… frustrated. But I should’ve never shut you out like that.”

His fingers stop moving through your hair, and you can feel his breath hitch as he pulls back slightly to look at you. For a moment, he just stares, and the warmth in his eyes makes your heart race. Then, without warning, his lips are on yours.

It’s a soft kiss at first, barely a brush of his lips against yours, as if he’s still unsure if you’re ready. But you don’t hesitate this time. You meet him halfway, kissing him back deeply, letting all the words you couldn’t say earlier pour into the kiss. You press closer to him, your hands finding their way around his neck, pulling him even closer as if you never want to let him go.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, and there’s a quiet moment between you, the tension from earlier melting away.

“Are we good?” Sanji asks, his voice playful again, but there’s a hint of vulnerability behind it.

You smile, finally feeling the weight lift from your shoulders “Yeah, we’re good.” You reach up, running a hand through his messy blond hair, before pulling him into another kiss, this time, more tender, slower, filled with the understanding that had been missing before.

“I really don’t like it when you push me away” he mutters against your lips, his hands resting on your waist.

You laugh softly, your heart light “I’ll try not to, okay? No more pushing you away.” You pull him even closer, your arms winding around him “I promise.”

He grins, that familiar, charming grin, as he wraps his arms around you “You better, sweetheart. Because I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

You lean against him, feeling his warmth envelop you, and for the first time today, you feel like everything is right again. You’re not alone in your frustration anymore, and you can lean on him when things feel too heavy. With Sanji, you know you’ll always have someone who understands, someone who’s ready to support you, even when you don’t ask for it.

As you sit there in his embrace, you let your worries melt away, knowing that, for once, you don’t have to fight this battle on your own.

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

The Polar Tang is unusually quiet tonight. Most of the crew has turned in, the hum of the submarine filling the empty corridors. You sit on the deck, legs dangling over the side, watching the ocean stretch endlessly under the moonlight. The battle earlier had been rough, leaving you sore and exhausted, but the peaceful waves help settle your nerves.

A presence settles beside you, and you don’t need to look to know who it is.

“Can’t sleep either?” you ask, glancing at Law.

He’s watching the water, arms resting on his knees “You took a nasty hit today. Should be resting.”

You roll your eyes “I’m fine, doctor.”

He exhales sharply, but there’s no real annoyance in it. Instead, a silence lingers between you, different from your usual comfortable quiet. There’s something restrained in the way Law sits, the way his fingers tighten into fists before relaxing again.

Then, before you can process what’s happening, he shifts toward you, one hand reaching for your cheek as his lips press firmly against yours.

Your breath catches. Your mind blanks.

Law is kissing you.

The realization slams into you so hard that you freeze completely. He’s warm, his touch surprisingly careful despite the rough way he carries himself in battle. But you don’t move... you don’t kiss him back. Not because you don’t want to, but because you weren’t expecting this. At all.

A second passes. Then another.

Law pulls away first. His golden eyes flicker with something unreadable before he looks away, jaw tightening. He stands abruptly.

“Forget it,” he mutters “That was a mistake.”

“Wait—” you reach for him, but he’s already stepping back, his expression closing off into something distant and unreadable. The wall he puts up is so familiar it makes your chest ache.

You finally find your voice “Law, I—”

“Get some rest,” he interrupts, his tone sharp “That’s an order.”

And then he’s gone, disappearing into the submarine without another word.

You sit there, stunned, heart pounding.

You wanted to kiss him back. You wanted this.

But now, you might have just ruined everything.

In facts, after that Law starts avoiding you.

Not just the usual, brooding, keep-to-himself kind of avoiding you. No, this is different. This is intentional.

And it’s driving you insane.

Ever since that kiss, the kiss you wanted but had been too frozen to return, he’s been more distant than ever. He won’t meet your eyes, won’t acknowledge your presence unless absolutely necessary, and worst of all, you don’t understand if it him who refuses to be alone with you or just the crew having the worst timing.

Every time you try to talk to him, someone interrupts.

Attempt #1: You corner him in the medical bay, only for Shachi to barge in, whining about some nonexistent injury. Law doesn’t even look at you as he orders you both out.

Attempt #2: You catch him in the hallway, ready to finally get this over with, but Penguin suddenly appears, asking something about the ship’s course. Law walks away before you can say a word.

Attempt #3: The mess hall. Surely, he can’t avoid you here. You sit beside him, he gets up immediately.

At this point, the crew notices.

“Did you piss off the captain or something?” Bepo asks, tilting his head.

You groan, slamming your head against the table “I don’t know! He won’t talk to me.”

“You must’ve done something,” Shachi teases “What, did you steal his seat or—”

Penguin smacks his arm “No, idiot. Captain’s never been like this before. Not even when we wrecked his lab.”

Bepo frowns “Something’s bothering him.”

Yeah, no kidding... it’s all your fault.

You catch glimpses of Law throughout the day, on the deck, in the control room, talking with the crew. But the moment he sees you? He leaves.

It’s killing you.

He thinks you regret it.

He thinks you didn’t want it.

And if you don’t fix this soon, he’s never going to let you get close again.

The frustration boils over during dinner.

You’re exhausted, running on fumes after chasing Law all day. The crew is loud, laughing over some dumb joke, but all you can focus on is him.

Sitting across from you. Silent. Eating his food without looking up.

You can’t take it anymore.

You slam your hands on the table, making everyone jump.

“LAW.”

Silence.

All eyes turn to you.

Your captain finally looks at you, startled.

“First you kiss me.” You point an accusing finger at him “And then you avoid me like the plague, without even give me the chance to explain myself!”

Shachi chokes on his drink.

Penguin’s mouth drops open.

Bepo’s ears twitch in alarm.

Law stiffens. His fork stops midair “This is not—”

“No, shut up,” you cut him off, standing so fast your chair nearly topples over “I need to say this before you run away again.”

The crew is watching.

You don’t care.

“You kissed me, and I—” Your voice cracks. Your face feels like it’s on fire “I didn’t kiss you back, but not because I didn’t want to! I was just—shocked! I like you, okay?! I wanted to kiss you back, but my brain just—short-circuited!”

Dead. Silence.

Shachi drops his spoon.

Bepo covers his mouth with his paws.

Penguin is slowly turning to look at Law, whose ears are red.

Your captain looks like he’s about to die.

You inhale sharply “So if you’re avoiding me because you think I hate you or something—stop.”

Law does not move.

The entire crew waits.

Then, he clears his throat, stands up, and grabs your wrist.

“Room.”

And just like that, you vanish from the mess hall and land in his office with a thud.

Law lets go of you immediately and rubs his face, exhaling sharply “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re the one who’s been acting like I have the plague,” you fire back, crossing your arms “Do you know how hard it’s been to get you alone?”

He groans “I thought you...” He pauses. Runs a hand through his hair “I thought you regretted it.”

You blink.

“…You idiot.”

He glares “Excuse me—”

You grab his coat and yank him down into a kiss.

Law freezes. This time, he’s the one caught off guard.

But when you pull away, his golden eyes are wide, breath slightly uneven.

You smirk “That clear enough for you?”

A beat of silence.

Then he grabs you by the waist and kisses you again.

And this time, you kiss him back.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

The Moby Dick feels warmer than usual tonight, the air carrying that familiar salty breeze that ruffles your hair. You’re sitting on the figurehead, just like you always do after a long day. The crew has mostly turned in, and Ace, as always, is lounging nearby, throwing out his usual teasing comments that always manage to make you roll your eyes.

Tonight, though? He’s extra insufferable.

“Don’t you think I look particularly good tonight?” Ace smirks, his head tilted back, his hair catching the moonlight.

You narrow your eyes “Yeah, Ace, you look like a sunburned tomato.”

He bursts out laughing, clearly enjoying the attention “Ha! You know you want me.”

“Oh, really?” You scoff, not missing a beat “You couldn’t pay me to want you.”

He shrugs, still grinning like a maniac “Sure, but that’s just your deflection because you’re intimidated by my obvious charm.”

Your eyebrow twitches “I’m pretty sure you’re confusing arrogance with charm, Ace.”

“Of course I’m charming. Just ask me—”

Before he can finish, you interrupt him “Yeah, well, don’t ask me. I’m not interested.”

But as he keeps running his mouth, you realize something. Ace is having way too much fun with this. He’s been teasing you non-stop for days about how “obviously into him” you are, and it’s driving you nuts. He knows you like him. He knows you’ve been trying to keep your cool, but his teasing is getting out of hand.

“Would you stop talking about how irresistible you are? I’m literally going to—”

Before you can finish your sentence, Ace leans in and kisses you.

It happens so fast you don’t even process it at first.

One second, you and Ace are bickering, his usual cocky teasing, your usual mock exasperation... and then bam. Lips. On yours.

Portgas D. Ace is kissing you.

It’s not even a gentle, romantic kiss. It’s an overconfident, smug, I-know-you-want-me kind of kiss. The kind of kiss that assumes you’re going to melt immediately.

But instead of kissing him back, your brain short-circuits, and you freeze.

Ace pulls away, already grinning “Heh. Bet you weren’t expecting that, huh?”

You blink again.

Ace smirks, looking so insufferably proud of himself “Damn, I really am irresistible.”

And something inside you just snaps.

You tilt your head, look him straight in the eyes, and say “…Meh.”

Ace stares.

The entire universe pauses.

“…Meh?” Ace echoes, as if he misheard you.

You shrug “Yeah. Meh.”

Ace blinks rapidly, like his brain is buffering “Wait. Hold on. No, no, no, you don’t get it. I just kissed you.”

“I know.”

“And you—” He gestures wildly at you “Didn’t do anything??”

“Guess not.”

Ace’s jaw drops. He looks personally offended.

“Hold on,” he says, pointing a very accusatory finger at you “Let me get this straight. You... just sat there and let me kiss you like I was some kind of—some kind of—unremarkable man?”

You nod “Pretty much.”

Ace clutches his chest like he’s just been stabbed “Oh my GOD.”

The crew, who had been watching very intently, erupts into chaos.

“YO WHAT?”

“DID Y/N JUST—”

“THEY ‘MEH’-ED HIM???”

“THERE’S NO COMING BACK FROM THAT, MAN.”

Ace spins dramatically away from you, gripping the side of the ship like he’s having an existential crisis.

Marco slaps a hand over his mouth, cackling “Damn, Ace, I ain’t never seen you take an L like that.”

Thatch is wheezing “You got ‘meh’-ed, dude. That’s worse than rejection.”

“I KNOW.” Ace yells, throwing his arms in the air. He turns back to you, looking utterly betrayed “How could you do this to me?”

You shrug again “Guess I’m just not that impressed.”

Ace gasps. Actually gasps. Like you just kicked him in the soul.

“This is the worst day of my life” he declares. Then he marches off.

You watch him go, amused “Where are you even going?”

“I DUNNO, SOMEWHERE I’M APPRECIATED.”

From that moment on, Ace enters what can only be described as a petty, over-the-top crisis. Because in his mind, this is unheard of.

He is Portgas D. Ace. He’s a walking inferno, second division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, effortlessly cool and charming. He has never, in his entire life, had someone just shrug off his kiss.

And he does not know how to handle it.

Thus begins The Avoidance Arc.

Ace is avoiding you because he’s lowkey heartbroken and incredibly dramatic about it.

He doesn’t even try to be subtle. He goes out of his way to avoid being anywhere near you.

Like, you’ll step onto the deck and Ace immediately turns 180 degrees and starts walking in the opposite direction.

You say one word to him, and he immediately yells, “OH WOW, LOOK AT THE TIME, GOTTA GO.”

You catch him in the hallway? He jumps overboard.

Marco watches all of this unfold with deep amusement “Wow. You really broke him.”

You roll your eyes “I didn’t break him. He’s being dramatic.”

“He’s been in the crow’s nest for six hours.”

“…Okay, maybe a little.”

Eventually, you get tired of this nonsense.

So, while the crew is gathered on the deck, you decide enough is enough.

You climb onto the railing of the ship and shout, loudly enough for Ace to hear from wherever he’s sulking—

“HEY EVERYONE! I THINK PORTGAS D. ACE IS A COWARD!”

There is instant silence.

Everyone slowly turns to look at you.

Then—BOOM. A door slams open somewhere, and Ace comes flying onto the deck like an angry storm “WHO SAID THAT.”

You smirk “Oh, hey, Ace. Nice of you to join us.”

He points at you, eyes narrowed “You wanna say that again?”

“I said,” you repeat, loud and clear, “you’re a coward.”

The crew is hyped.

“Ohhhhhhh shiiiiiit.”

“Y/N called you out, bro.”

“Ace, you gonna let that slide??”

Ace crosses his arms “I am not a coward.”

“Oh, really?” You tilt your head “Then why have you been avoiding me?”

Ace falters “That’s—that’s not—”

You step closer “Admit it. You’re mad because I didn’t kiss you back.”

The crew is on the edge of their seats.

Ace shifts uncomfortably “I’m not mad. I’m just… extremely, deeply wounded.”

You burst out laughing “Oh my god, you’re actually sulking.”

“I AM NOT SULKING.”

Marco sighs, shaking his head “Ace, just admit it. You wanted y/n to be all over you, and when they wasn’t, you got all weird about it.”

Ace groans, covering his face “Fine, yes, okay?! It bruised my damn ego! Happy?”

You grin “Very.”

Ace mutters something about how “this is the worst day of his life” and the crew howls with laughter.

Then, before he can complain further you grab his collar and kiss him, right then and there.

The crew loses their minds.

Ace freezes. Then, slowly, his brain catches up, and when you pull away, he just stares.

“…Oh.”

You smirk “Yeah. Oh.”

Then Ace grins, all cocky confidence again “So, uh. I win, right?”

You punch him in the arm.

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

When Simon kissed you goodbye and watched you excitedly rush to your friend’s car, he already knew that at some point that evening, he’d get a call from a fairly drunk you. What he didn’t expect though, was for that call to come from inside the police station.

“Simon? Simon, can you hear-,” your drunken giggles interrupted you. “me?” Little did you know that when he heard the typical “This is a call from xy police station. Do you accept the call?”, he had already put on his shoes and collected his car keys, rushing out of the house and to his truck.

“I can hear you love.” Your still joyful demeanor reassured him, but he still worried. “Are you okay? What happened?” In the background, he could hear the voices of you girlfriends, who sounded just as smashed as you. Another one of your giggles sounded through the phone, as you lowered your voice, trying to whisper, but it was pretty obvious that you were still loud enough to be heard. “I think-,” this time it was a hiccup that interrupted you. “-I think I did something bad.” Usually, Simon’s mind would immediately go to worst-case scenario, but you still sounded happy, so he managed to stay calm. Instead of panicking, he started the car and put you on speaker, pulling out of the driveway to make his way to the police station.

“I’ll be there in five, pretty. Can you wait for me?” You sighed happily, and he could almost picture you leaning against the wall and twirling your hair. “Oh Si, I’d wait forever for you.” He chuckled, and signed off with a quick ‘I love you’, before hanging up. Three minutes later, he walked into the brightly lit building and up to the front desk, seeing a familiar cop. As soon as Matt saw Simon, he just chuckled.

“Assumed she was yours. Kept talking about her big, scary boyfriend.” Simon chuckled as he shook his mate's hand. “How bad is it?” Matt shrugged and grabbed some keys leading Simon to the cells. ���Just some public disturbance.” Simon nodded. “Charges?” “Nah. Mainly picked them up to keep them from getting into real trouble.”

The moment you saw Simon walking toward you, you squealed and thrust your arms through the bars. “Siiiiiiimooooon!” The blonde could only roll his eyes with a smile as he watched you, impatiently waiting for Matt to open the door, before you rushed into your boyfriend’s arms. He pulled you in tightly, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. After a moment, you glanced up at him, a pout on your lips.

“What’s got you pouting, pretty?” You turned and glared at Matt. “He took my tequila.” Matt raised his hands with a grin, shrugging before waving you two to follow him. “Well, we got more tequila at home.” Again you squealed, overjoyed that your drunken evening wasn’t over just yet, but when Matt turned to look at Simon with a raised eyebrow, the blonde just mouthed back ‘water’. The cop nodded with a grin, handing you a form, which you quickly signed before he handed over your personal items and bid you a good night.

As soon as you left the building, you rushed out ahead, leading to Simon quickly catching up and wrapping an arm tightly around your waist. He stirred you to his truck and quickly buckled you in, before jumping in the driver’s seat and pulling away.

“So…what did you do?” He swatted at your hand as you tried to turn up the volume of the radio. You pouted again, before sitting up straight, raising your hand and grinning at him. “I plead the fifth!” Simon chuckled, glancing at you, before focusing back on the road. “You’re in Britain, love. There ain’t no fifth.” Immediately, you slouched back down, glaring at the road. “Well, that’s bullshit.”

Before you knew it, Simon pulled into the driveway and helped you out of the car before gently leading you inside. You immediately tried to rush to the alcohol cabinet, but before you could, Simon pushed you to the bedroom. “But my tequilaaaa.” He pushed you until you sat down on the bed. “You change into your pjs and I’ll get you some tequila, okay?” You grinned and nodded, and Simon left the room, quickly filling a glass with water. On his way back, he picked up a bucket and some pain meds, planning to leave them on your nightstand.

But when he entered the bedroom again, he found you, half changed, and asleep. Still smiling, he sighed before putting everything down on your side of the bed. As gently as he could, he quickly changed you and wiped off your makeup, making sure you were as comfortable as possible, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Sleep tight, love.”

A/N: Definitely did not write this while listening to "Plead the fifth" by Cooper Alan. I love that song.

[merlucide]

BOKUTO.ೃ࿔* who desperately wants you to think he’s cool. He’ll do everything in his power to impress you—oh, your bag is too heavy? No problem! Bo’s got it! aaaand he can carry Akaashi’s bag too! See how strong he is? Isn’t he the coolest?! Wait—hold on, you really think so?

KUROO.ೃ࿔* who loves when you manhandle him. Tug him by his tie, and honey he’s at your mercy. Slide your hands along his neck with that sly smile of yours, and you’ll have him utterly undone. He just has to lean in with a lopsided smirk, hand cupping your jaw, being completely enchanted by you.

TSUKKI.ೃ࿔* who keeps you from wandering aimlessly like a lost puppy. You always ‘turn your brain off’, according to Kei. he’ll firmly place his hand on the top of your head and steer you in the right direction, rolling his eyes and teasing about how you’d be completely and utterly lost without him.

SUNARIN.ೃ࿔* who always, ALWAYS, has to have his hands on you. If you are with in reach he will rest his hands on your hips and tug you against him. If you’re walking around then your fingers will be interlocked. He also likes to put his hand in your back pocket in your jeans

IWAIZUMI.ೃ࿔* who gets genuinely gets flustered every time you compliment him. It could be anything small, like a simple ‘That’s a good color on you’ has him bashfully muttering a small ‘thanks,’ with his cheeks tinged pink. He hates how easily you turn him into a mess—especially when you giggle in realization and lean in to kiss him— Oh he just can’t take it!!

AKAASHI.ೃ࿔* who always walks you to and from your destination, no matter the time, place, or weather. Any time spent with you is spent well. He needs to make sure you get to your destination safely of course! He waits until he absolutely cannot see you anymore before he starts his journey back.

ATSUMU.ೃ࿔* who gives the BEST hugs. You always feel so safe and so loved when his arms are wrapped firmly around your waist. His head tucks into your neck as if he never wants to let go. And when he’s feeling all soft, he’ll cradle your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing tenderly across your skin as he gazes at you like you hung the stars. Though, that’s just ‘Tsumu’s normal expression when you’re around.

KAGEYAMA.ೃ࿔* who’s always looking for you, even if you’re not there. It’s just a habit of his, probably because his mind is constantly plagued of your smiling face 24/7. The moment he spots you, he’s making a beeline, linking his pinky with yours whispering ‘What took you so long?’.

USHIWAKA.ೃ࿔* who’s the perfect gentleman. He pulls out your chair, walks on the side closest to the road, and never shows up empty-handed, always bringing you a bouquet of roses on every Sunday with a respectful kiss on the hand. Life with ‘Toshi is as easy as breathing.

OIKAWA.ೃ࿔* who can’t help but be ridiculously cheesy, really he can’t! Not when you’re his darling sugarplum and one and only till the end of forever! Reject his dramatic love proclamations? Oh, absolutely not! That’s just who he is, and you’ll have to endure it, sweetheart.

HINATA.ೃ࿔* who always offers piggyback rides when your feet hurt. Don’t underestimate his little body!—he can lift you with ease, carrying you down the street like it’s nothing. Sho’ would insist you get on his back regardless if your feet hurt or not—can you really blame him? Who wouldn’t want a cutie hanging onto them!

KENMA.ೃ࿔* who silently watches you in admiration when you put your makeup on. Sitting on the toilet lid, he holds your makeup bag and hands you your lip gloss before you even ask. He shyly looks away with his cheeks warm and lips pursed together when you ask ‘how do I look?’.

OSAMU.ೃ࿔* who can’t help the loopy grin on his face when you do a little twirl, showing off your new outfit. He could care less about shopping, truly, he hates it. But if it means seeing you all dolled up and happy, he doesn’t mind it one bit.

SAKUSA.ೃ࿔* who pulls you close to him when you are in public spaces. He takes your hands and squirts his Hello Kitty hand sanitizer (The one you got him) into your hands before rubbing his own. Scathingly glares at the man who accidentally bumped into you. He absolutely cannot let you have unwanted contact with strangers! no yucky germs allowed on his baby.

YAMAGUCHI.ೃ࿔* who always firmly holds your hand in crowds. Out in public he’ll hold your hand regardless, but when everyone is packed together his anxiety skyrockets. He’s always nervous of you two being separated in the crowd. He takes the lead to guide you both out of the mingled mess of people, and when it’s over, please give him a  forehead kiss—he’s earned it.

TENDOU.ೃ࿔* who takes Shounen Saturdays very seriously. You don’t get to skip it! Not when it’s a sacred tradition of binge-watching both of your favorite shows with sugary snacks! You two are all bundled together on the couch and gasping and giggling at the TV. He refuses to let you watch the next episode without him, Will curse your whole bloodline if you do (affectionate).

HOSHIUMI.ೃ࿔* who might just be the worst person to play board games with. When he’s winning, he’s full of smug trash talk, loudly boasting about his ‘inevitable victory’, but the second he starts losing? ‘This game is rigged!’ ‘you cheated!,’ or ‘this is bullshit!’. It’s even worse better when there’s a bet involved—he’ll do anything to avoid letting you win. That’s how you get him to help you clean most the time hehe.

LEV.ೃ࿔* who clings to you, always. You are concerned for his neck and back for always resting around you in uncomfortable positions, but he never seems to complain. Standing up Lev has his arms around you and head smushed against yours, laying down his long legs wrap around your own and he burrows himself in your warmth. If Lev could have it his way, he would never stop touching you.

AONE.ೃ࿔* who’s a certified purse carrier. you don’t make him— of course not! He insists actually. He could care less about being seen with a hot pink decorated purse slung on his arm, it’s quite the sight. This also goes for shopping of course, Nobu’ just trails behind with arms full of whatever you managed to snag on 50% off.

uhu I wrote some for kyotani+suga+goshiki+etc but I didn’t like them sob sob

lemme know whatcha think! (And if I should do pt2 lolz)

made January 26th 2025

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. bragging about your oh-so-perfect boyfriend to your friends certainly has its (welcomed) consequences. . .

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff & smut. p in v -> unprotected. missionary. sweet but also nasty and condescending. creampie. body worship. size difference / - kink. nicknames ‘(little) princess, baby’. name calling once. not proof read bcs im sleepy. wc. 2k+

“right! he’s so thoughtful,” you sigh dreamily as you chat with your friends over the phone. you’re laying on satoru’s bed, kicking your feet up while you remove your make-up. of course, you had to call your girls to tell them all about the little date you just had with your boyfriend.

satoru’s in the shower, so you’re taking the time to relive the experience.

“here she goes again y’all,” one of your friends sighs dramatically, to which the others follow with giggles of their own. they know that you can go on and on about your partner. they’ve heard all of it before.

you grin and roll your eyes, rubbing the cleansing wipe over your lips, removing the light pink gloss you had on. you’re all giddy as you recall what satoru has done and given to you this evening. you’ve been pampered—spoiled rotten.

“hey! don’t blame me,” you retort with a chuckle. your friends laugh and urge you to go on since they’re only joking. the stories you tell are always either adorable or heartwarming, and thus they’re happy to listen. plus, debriefing you on your love life is free entertainment.

it’s not unusual for you to stray from the main story. you ramble about the restaurant you’ve visited, the pretty green scenery you’ve walked past, the museum you’ve visited, the way satoru paid for everything and how he made sure to pick activities you’re interested.

you get an occasional ‘aww’ or ‘cuteee’ when you mention your boyfriend’s loving gestures. from the enormous bouquet of flowers he’s gotten you, to the fact that he carried you back into his apartment the moment you told him your feet were hurting.

walking in heels wasn’t the smart move you thought it was, though luckily you had a thoughtful lover by your side.

“he’s just so handsome ‘n stuff. god—“ you squeal, not even bothering to dampen your excitement. you hide your face behind your hands for a split second, gaining a few fan girling squeaks from your friends as well. they’re happy that you’re being treated like deserved.

you don’t hear the door of the bedroom open since you’re too busy gushing about satoru. you’re focused on your small pocket mirror, careful not to forget a spot on your face. you notice that your friends have gone quiet, but you don’t question it.

“his gentle personality is honestly such a turn-on,” you mumble as you rub off the concealer from under your eyes, “and his subtle yet possessive touches? phew, don’t get me started.” you continue to babble on about how hot satoru is when he gets mad, unable to point out a flaw.

you’re about to comment on your friends’ sudden silence when a hand lands on your shoulder. you freeze and finally make eye contact with no one other than satoru—hovering over you from behind. he’s smiling down at you and mumbles a quick, ‘hey, baby’, before kissing your forehead.

you try to explain the situation, yet have no idea where to start. you can hear a friend of yours snickering and another faintly whisper an ‘oh, girl. . .’

before you have the ability to get another word out, satoru cuts you off, waving at your front camera for a second. his smile reaches his eyes and his dimples show;

“hey ladies, mind if i steal my girl from you?” satoru asks as he puts an arm around you. he places his cheek against yours, awaiting an answer. your friends are left speechless at the sudden turn of events.

the white-haired man appears extremely good on screen. he’s basically blessing them with his handsome looks. the towel hanging over his head indicates that he just came out of a fresh shower. there’s a visible vein running down his neck—nearly bulging out of the skin—as if satoru’s holding himself back.

once your friends snap out of their daze, they greet satoru and nod, exchanging quick ‘see you later’s. your boyfriend thanks them with another one of his charming smiles. he waves at the camera again, “bye bye, thank you.”

the call ends and the bedroom falls quiet. you stare at your screen which fades to black, completely dumbfounded. you quickly sit up—your mind a chaotic mess full of thoughts.

“satoru, i uhm, i didn’t know—“ you attempt to form an explanation, though you realise that it’s likely futile. satoru’s probably heard every word that left your mouth. you look up at him, your voice a quiet whisper, “how much did you hear?”

the sorcerer grins. he’s so enamored with you; everything you do is adorable. he grabs your hands and holds then into his larger ones—thumbs gently rubbing your skin. he pulls them up to his lips so he could place chaste kisses on your knuckles.

“everything, princess,” satoru hums, rotating your hands to place kisses on the inside of your wrists. there’s a subtle blush on his cheeks that even reaches his ears. no matter how calm and collected he may seem, he’s still but a complete sucker to your love, “talking about me to your little friends, hm? how cute.”

a shiver runs down your spine. you feel your tummy turn as you’re slowly guided onto your back. multiple kisses cover your body—from head to toe—like a canvas getting painted on. satoru’s taking his sweet time, admiring the art that’s your physique.

every piece of clothing that comes off is a step closer to the grande revelation. the masterpiece that is you. moving from one empty spot - filling it with his kisses - to another. sighs of content leave your lover’s mouth with each reveal, as if he hasn’t seen the sight of your naked body before.

“does this turn you on, baby? my ‘subtle touches’?” satoru mutters against your breasts, remembering your earlier words. his blue eyes stare up at you through his white lashes. not wearing his blindfold may overstimulate him due to his abilities, but he’ll risk anything if it’s to admire you the best he can.

he chuckles when you nod. your boyfriend kisses your hard nipples—taking his time to swirl his tongue around both of them just to feel your back arch off the mattress. your hands holding onto him for life is extremely thrilling. “it turns me on too,” satoru confesses quietly. his slender fingers reach the hem of your panties, “you turn me on so fuckin’ much.”

your breath hitches when your underwear gets tossed somewhere across the room. you’re dripping, obviously. there’s no way you couldn’t get turned on by the way satoru’s been worshipping your entire being.

you can also see the effect you have on him; he’s sweating. the vein on his neck seems to grow more visible when your cunt is revealed to him.

“there she is,” satoru grins in satisfaction. he seems to be in a daze for a second before he regains composure. he looks at you for a quick check, needing to know if he has your consent before he continues. the moment you nod, your lover separates your legs.

you sniff and try to hide your embarrassed expression behind a hand. satoru’s quick to pin your wrist above your head so you wouldn’t have the chance to do any of that. “keep your eyes on me, yeah?” he leans in to place a swift kiss on your lips.

“mhm,” you nod after returning the peck. the white-haired man utters a small ‘thank you’ and undoes his sweatpants with his free hand. he fumbles with his boxers—unable to keep himself from trembling in pleasure from the view alone.

your small body underneath him is a sight he’ll never get tired of. that face of yours morphing into one of pleasure whenever you’re intimate is one of his favorite things to witness. thus why the missionary is his go to position.

“c’mon,” satoru kisses your cheek as he manages to pull his erected cock out of his underwear. it’s standing tall, the tip pointing right at the place it wants to be buried at—your wet, warm and inviting pussy, “you were so loud when talking with y’r friends ‘n now you’ve gone quiet on me.”

satoru pouts, “it’s not fair. i wanna hear my princess too.”

you almost choke on your spit because of how whiny yet demanding satoru sounds. you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, firmly holding your hand down above your head. you’re still flustered by the entire situation. you open your mouth as tears gather in your eyes, “i’m sorry, i’m jus— ngh!”

you can’t even get your words out. the lewd feeling of satoru rubbing his tip between your folds completely catches you off guard. he grins, as if he planned on doing that the moment you tried to speak. he’s such a tease.

“shh, shh, i know,” satoru coos mockingly, acting like he’s not doing it on purpose. you can’t blame the man; he’s been rock hard ever since he heard you praise him so openly through the phone. your lovely voice speaking so highly of him was driving him nuts.

you’re so appreciative for all he’s doing and it makes the sorcerer want to spoil you even more. to give you the love and affection you deserve because of how precious you are—even if you don’t realise it.

he wants to give you more. more, more, more.

without thinking, satoru pushes his cock right through your tight cunt. he shudders at the sight of your poor, small pussy struggling to take his fat dick. he can’t hurt you, he knows. especially with the amount of times the bulbous head of his cock nearly bruised your cervix.

though, it’s difficult not to go all out. you’re so accepting of everything he does—satoru can see that by the way your eyes stare at him. it’s all love. the light reflecting in your pupils makes them sparkle beautifully. he cusses under his breath, “y’re so pretty, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck. y’re making it so hard.”

satoru tries his best not to plunge his cock all the way to the hilt. he reaches halfway with each thrust, the thwacking sound increasing by the second. your legs automatically wrap around his waist and your fingers squeeze his.

“toruuu, fmhh, so big,” you babble, the drool forming in the corners of your lips threatening to drip down your chin. each soft yet firm thrust seems to resonate within you, evoking a sense of pleasurable contentment.

satoru lets out a haughty chuckle at the sight of you going cockdrunk already. he’s still trying to hold his urges back by focusing on your satisfaction alone. “i’ll give you something else to brag ‘bout to y’r friends,” he pants with a confident smirk, kissing your jawline as he ruts into you,

you’re embarrassed by your current predicament. despite that, you find yourself enjoying every consequence that your actions have caused. your moans echo in satoru’s ears, each slap of your bodies connecting sounding twice as loud.

his thick cock is stretching you out so well. your cunt is working overtime to make space for every inch. your boyfriend gently bites your bottom lip, his breath faltering when you clench around him in response.

“‘re ya gonna tell them?” satoru asks through a guttural moan. his hips move non-stop, aiming to please you until you lose your mind. he’ll live up to the expectations set no matter what. he kisses the swell of your breasts, “are ya gonna tell ‘em how you let your ‘lovely’ boyfriend fuck you like this? how y’re a complete slut for his cock?”

you don’t know how to react to his dirty talk. it’s getting you wetter, that’s for sure. your thighs shake around his waist and your tummy feels like it’s doing flips. satoru doesn’t leave it there, “gonna tell them about how good i fill you up, yeah? dirty little girl telling all her friends about our private life, tsk tsk.”

it’s overwhelming. the sudden increase in dirty talk makes you want to cum on spot. you feel like you’re being degraded, however satoru’s touches make you feel appreciated and loved. his hand holding yours above your head never leaves you—a sign that this is still him making love to you.

“am—am not gonna,” you hiccup. the words simply roll of your tongue without much thought. you’re mindlessly responding to your lover. “am not gonna tell them anything,” you continue before cutting yourself off with a string of whiny moans when satoru plays with your clit.

satoru shakes his head, increasing the pressure and speed in which he’s pumping into you. he loves the view of you being so helpless—succumbing to the pleasure he’s granting you. “sureeee, i believe you,” your boyfriend snickers and pushes his pulsing cock in further. his tone is soft but condescending, “i’ll trust my little princess to keep her mouth shut f’me.”

you’re getting so close. your nails dig into his skin and your noises get louder. you’re right on the edge of euphoria. the clit stimulation along with the feeling of being filled to the brim is enough to make you see stars.

satoru nods at your desperate whimpers that alarm him that you’re close to climax. “i got you, baby. cum f’me—i got you,” he places sloppy kisses all over your face and rams his cock in and out of you in a stronger rhythm. there’s nothing satoru wants to do in this world more than to flood your insides with his cum.

his cock doesn’t stop prodding at your sweet spots and it’s making you approach that peak; the peak of pleasure that’s going to push you over the edge. you hold tightly onto your lover and he doesn’t hesitate to return the embrace. “it’s okay, do it f’me,” satoru encourages you once again through a husky whisper.

you’re thankful that you have such an attentive partner. he can go from teasing you to comforting you and it’s the most reassuring thing ever. you’ve never had a man hold you so intimately while he’s balls deep into you.

“g’nna cum,” a strangled moan leaves your throat when you try to speak. your chests are pressed together and your heartbeats match—like the perfect pair you are. satoru feels his balls clench with an aching feeling, needing to release every last drop they have stored into your tiny cunt.

just thinking about the way you were bragging about him again, is enough. “take it—fuuuckk—take it all, baby,” the white-haired man takes a deep breath in and can’t help but bury his entire dick inside of you, that one last thrust making you yelp.

you reach your climaxes at the exact same time. your fluids mix as you feel satoru’s thick spurts of cum coat your insides a sticky white. your body spasms and your boyfriend instantly soothes you by rubbing your back. his own legs are trembling a little, but you’re far more important.

you don’t utter a word and simply focus on regaining your energy. all that you can say are incoherent babbles. “easy,” satoru kisses the corners of your eyes and relishes in the fact that he’s fucked you full of his cum. it’s a reminder of just how much he loves you.

a few encouraging words and hugs later and you’ve calmed down. you don’t fully grasp the reality of the situation until the adrenaline and other hormones drop down to a normal level.

you’re suddenly reminded by your previous words and this time, you succeed in hiding your face into the crook of satoru’s neck.

it’s certain that he’s greatly enjoyed overhearing you talk about him to your friends, but it’s still a somewhat embarrassing memory you wish to forget. “not a word, please. j-jus act like you haven’t heard anything,” you mumble quietly now that you’ve come down from your high.

satoru laughs softly. he can’t help but tease you after that—it’s a given. you’re still so caught up on what happened and it’s endearing.

however, satoru wouldn’t be him if he didn’t tease you about your little comments. without pulling out, he tilts his head back and stares down at you with a faint grin, “do i have to act like i haven’t fucked you silly just now too?”

“satoru!”

[harrysfolklore]

christ-max -mv1

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

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

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Better?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The very same one, Rubes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can handle that," he says confidently.

"And recite all the lines?"

"…Maybe not that."

"And act out the scenes with her?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Even in the snow?"

"Even in the snow."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I told you," you whisper back, watching as Ruby explains to Max why Elsa has ice powers.

Your dad joins in the whispered conversation. "Think he'd sign my mug collection later?"

"Dad!"

"What? I'm just saying, Christmas cards would be sorted for the next few years…"

You're about to respond when Ruby shushes you all loudly. "This is the best part!"

Max catches your eye and winks, clearly enjoying himself despite being roped into a Disney movie viewing with a very enthusiastic seven-year-old commentator. Your heart swells watching him with your family, how naturally he fits in, how gentle he is with Ruby.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Ruby starts singing along with the movie.

"Later, Rubes," you promise. "Let's watch the movie first."

She nods seriously, then turns to Max. "Pay attention to this part. It's very important."

"I won't miss a second," he promises, and Ruby beams at him before turning back to the screen.

Your mom reaches over and squeezes your hand, giving you a knowing look. Even your dad has stopped thinking about racing long enough to appreciate the moment – his youngest daughter sharing her favorite movie with your boyfriend, who happens to be the F1 driver he's been fan-boying over for years.

It's perfect, you think, watching your family and Max together. Different from how you imagined telling them, but perfect nonetheless.

"Shh!" Ruby whispers loudly. "Elsa is about to sing Let It Go!"

Max shoots you a slightly panicked look as Ruby starts to stand up, clearly ready to perform the whole number. You just grin and shrug. After all, you did warn him about the singing.

Later that evening, you finally manage to steal a moment alone with Max. Ruby had fallen asleep during the third replay of Frozen, and your parents took her up to bed before retreating to the kitchen to finish some Christmas preparations.

You find Max on the back porch, leaning against the railing and looking up at the stars. The winter air is crisp, and you can see his breath forming little clouds in the darkness. Quietly, you step out and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back.

"Hey," he says softly, turning in your arms to face you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Needed a little break from being Elsa?"

You laugh quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "You were amazing with Ruby today. I think you're officially her new favorite person."

"She's a sweet kid," he smiles, then adds with a playful glint in his eyes, "Though I didn't expect to watch Frozen two times in one day."

"Just wait until tomorrow. She'll probably want to act it out."

He groans dramatically, but you can see the fondness in his expression. "The things I do for you."

"Mmm, and I appreciate every one of them," you murmur, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

Max responds immediately, one hand moving to cup your face while the other pulls you even closer. The kiss is gentle and unhurried, full of unspoken emotions. When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For being so perfect with my family. For watching Frozen multiple times. For not running away when my dad started his racing commentary."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I like your family. Your dad's racing knowledge is impressive, your mom's trying very hard not to mother me to death, and Ruby…" he pauses, smiling. "Ruby reminds me of Victoria at that age."

You snuggle closer, seeking his warmth in the cold air. "I was so nervous about telling them, and then even more nervous when they didn't believe me. But this… this is better than I imagined."

"Even with your dad asking me to sign his entire Red Bull merchandise collection?"

"Hey, at least he waited until after dinner," you laugh. "Though I'm pretty sure he's in there right now planning which items to bring out first."

Max wraps his arms more securely around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you," he says quietly, and your heart skips a beat like it does every time he says those words.

"I love you too," you reply, tilting your face up for another kiss.

This one is deeper, more passionate, until you hear the back door creak and quickly step apart.

"Oh!" your mom exclaims, looking flustered. "Sorry, I just… wanted to ask about breakfast preferences… but it can wait… carry on!"

She disappears back inside, and you both burst into quiet laughter.

"We should probably go back in," you sigh, though you make no move to leave his embrace.

"Probably," he agrees, but instead of letting go, he pulls you back for one more kiss. "Five more minutes?"

You smile against his lips. "Five more minutes."

In the quiet of Christmas eve, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but think how perfectly he fits into your life, into your family, into your heart. Tomorrow there'll be more Frozen, more racing talk, more of Ruby's endless questions, but right now, it's just the two of you, and it's everything.

The winter sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains of your childhood bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You're wrapped in warmth, nestled against Max's chest with his arm draped around your waist. His steady breathing tells you he's awake before he even moves.

"Good morning," he murmurs against your neck, his voice still rough with sleep. His lips brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Morning," you whisper back, feeling his hand slowly slide beneath your sleep shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Sleep well?" he asks innocently, but his actions are anything but innocent as he presses closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

"Max," you breathe, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and knowing you should stop. "We can't… my parents…"

"Then we'll have to be very, very quiet," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. His hand travels higher under your shirt, making your breath hitch.

You turn in his arms, ready to either give in or properly protest - though the way he's looking at you, eyes dark with desire and that signature smirk playing on his lips, makes you lean heavily toward the former.

"You're trouble," you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair.

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "You love it."

Just as his hand starts to wander again, a voice pierces through the quiet morning:

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAS!" Ruby's excited scream echoes through the entire house, followed by the thundering of small feet running down the hallway. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! SANTA CAME!"

Max drops his forehead to your shoulder with a frustrated groan. "Your sister has impeccable timing."

"Welcome to Christmas with Ruby," you laugh, pressing a consoling kiss to his cheek. "I tried to warn you."

"YN! MAX!" Ruby's fists pound on your door. "GET UP! There are presents EVERYWHERE! And it SNOWED!"

"Five more minutes, Rubes!" you call back.

"NO MINUTES! NOW!" she insists, continuing to knock. "Mom said breakfast is ready and Dad made hot chocolate and I SAW A HUGE PRESENT WITH MY NAME ON IT!"

Max chuckles against your shoulder. "I suppose we should…"

"PLEASE!" Ruby calls again. "I promise I'll let you drink your coffee first!"

"That's quite the offer from her," you tell Max. "She usually doesn't allow any delays on Christmas morning."

"We're coming, Ruby!" Max calls out, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Give us two minutes to get dressed."

"TWO MINUTES! I'm counting!"

You can hear her dramatically counting down in the hallway, making Max laugh. "She's serious about this, isn't she?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

The living room is a festival of color and chaos when you finally make it downstairs. Ruby's bouncing by the tree in her Christmas pajamas, while your parents are settled on the couch with steaming mugs of coffee.

"Finally!" Ruby exclaims. "I counted way past two minutes!"

"Sorry, princess," Max says, accepting a coffee mug from your mom. "But I'm here now."

"Max, sweetheart, you really didn't have to get us anything," your mom says, noticing the pile of presents he'd arranged under the tree last night.

"Of course I did," he replies warmly. "It's Christmas."

Ruby's practically vibrating with excitement as your dad starts distributing gifts. "Can I open mine from Max first? Please?"

At your nod, she tears into the elaborate wrapping paper, gasping when she reveals a beautiful wooden chest with golden details. "It's like a treasure chest!"

"Open it," Max encourages, smiling.

Ruby lifts the lid carefully, her eyes widening. Inside is a complete collection of princess dresses, each one a perfect replica from different Disney movies, along with matching accessories and a tiara for each one.

"The chest is magical," Max explains, kneeling beside her. "Every time you open it, there might be a new surprise inside. And look at this…" He reaches in and pulls out a small envelope.

Ruby opens it to find a letter with the Disney castle letterhead. "Dear Princess Ruby," she reads aloud, her voice getting more excited with each word. "You are cordially invited to spend a royal weekend at Disney World, where you will have a private breakfast with all the Disney princesses…"

She doesn't even finish reading before launching herself at Max, nearly knocking him over. "Thank you thank you thank you! Can I try on the Elsa dress right now?"

"After presents," your mom laughs. "Let's see what else Santa brought."

Your dad opens his gift next, finding an envelope that makes him pause. "Son," he says, voice thick with emotion as he reads the contents. "This is…"

"VIP passes to the British Grand Prix," Max confirms. "Including garage access, grid walk, everything."

Your dad has to sit down, clutching the passes like they might disappear. "This is… I can't…"

"And this," Max hands him another package, "is just a little something extra."

Inside is a vintage racing jacket from your dad's favorite driver from the 80s, signed and authenticated. Your dad actually tears up.

Your mom opens her gift next, despite protesting again that Max shouldn't have gotten them anything. She unwraps a beautiful pair of earrings.

"Oh, Max," she whispers, "This is beautiful."

Ruby, who has been surprisingly patient, tugs at Max's sleeve. "Can we do my princess breakfast now?"

"After we finish presents," you laugh. "And maybe we should have real breakfast first?"

"But I'm a princess now," she declares. "Princesses have special breakfast times."

Your mom shakes her head fondly. "How about pancakes fit for a princess?"

"With chocolate chips?" Ruby negotiates.

"With chocolate chips," your mom confirms. "Max, honey, how do you like your pancakes?"

"However they're made is perfect," he assures her, but your mom is already heading to the kitchen, muttering about making sure she has enough chocolate chips.

Your dad finally finds his voice again. "Max, this is too much…"

"It's not," Max says firmly. "You're… you're family now. Or at least, I hope…"

He glances at you meaningfully, making your heart skip a beat.

Later, after pancakes and multiple princess dress changes from Ruby, you manage to steal some time alone with Max in your favorite spot on the back porch. The morning sun has warmed the air slightly, but there's still a crisp winter chill that gives you an excuse to stay close to him.

"Your turn," Max says softly, pulling out a small wrapped box from his pocket.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a velvet jewelry box. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with two intertwined pendants - a heart and a tiny racing helmet.

"Max," you breathe, touching the pendants gently. "It's beautiful."

"Look at the back," he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of nervousness you rarely hear.

You turn the heart over to find an engraving: "You're my biggest victory. -MV"

"I love you," you whisper, pulling him down for a kiss. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if you're the most precious thing in his world.

When you finally part, you hand him your gift - a wrapped box that makes him raise his eyebrows at the weight.

Inside, he finds a handmade scrapbook filled with your personal moments - sneaky paddock kisses, quiet mornings at home, victory celebrations, and candid moments no one else has seen. The final page holds a photo from yesterday - Max on the floor with Ruby, both laughing during their third viewing of Frozen.

"This is…" he starts, voice thick with emotion.

"Wait," you say softly, reaching into your pocket. You pull out a key on a simple keychain. "I thought… maybe… if you wanted…"

"Move in with you?" he finishes, breaking into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your heart race. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other holds the key carefully.

"MAX!" Ruby's voice carries from inside. "I need help with my Cinderella shoes! And then we have to build a snowman! A FROZEN snowman!"

You both laugh against each other's lips.

"Duty calls, Elsa," you tease.

"Only if you'll be my Olaf," he grins, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Always," you promise, letting him lead you back inside where Ruby waits, already changed into her third princess dress of the morning.

Your dad catches your eye as you pass, "If you don't marry this boy," he whispers, "I will."

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, then heads outside to join the snowman-building committee.

Your mom appears at your other side, wrapping an arm around you. "He's right, you know. He's perfect for you."

You lean your head on her shoulder, watching Max let Ruby direct him on where to place the snowman's arms. "I know," you smile. "I know."

"Best Christmas ever?" she asks softly.

Looking at your family, and Max in the middle of it all, belonging there like he's always been part of it - you smile.

"Best Christmas ever," you agree.

[pearlessance]

Cupid's Chokehold — part one!

FEEL SO CLOSE

[next chapter]

summary: Tommy meets Joel's new girlfriend and takes a twisted liking to her live-in daughter.

pairing: step uncle!Tommy Miller x f!Reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI. step-cest, age gap (unspecified, but reader is 19/20, Tommy in his early-mid 30s), unprotected piv, oral sex (both f! and m! receiving), attempted seduction (from reader), pussy pronouns, praise, dirty talk, creampie, begging, dacryphilia, alcohol consumption, no outbreak AU, Tommy POV

note: genuinely this is the filthiest most diabolic thing I've ever written and I'm absolutely terrified to post it!!! if it's not your cup of tea pls keep scrolling, and if you do read it, let me know what you think!! also, I wrote the nightclub scene with the song Feel So Close by Calvin Harris in mind (iykyk), but feel free to imagine whatever you like!

wc: 12.1k

[series masterlist]

[main masterlist] [AO3]

You’ve always been close.

Since that first night you’d met in Joel’s kitchen, Tommy has always felt drawn to you. Like you were one and the same. Two peas in a fucking pod, despite how…indecent it sometimes felt.

It was late summer. Hot. Your mother and Joel had arranged a dinner. They’d wanted everyone to ‘get to know each other.’ Grilled burgers and made pasta salad and poured glasses of cheap champagne. The whole nine yards. 

Joel had warned Tommy about you ahead of time. Talked about his new girlfriend’s daughter, about how you were a bit…wild. Impulsive. Too pretty and too smart for your own good.

You’re a couple of years older than Sarah, freshly out of high school with a devil-may-care attitude. The two of you get along well—Sarah thinks the whispered comments you pour in her ear all night are just hilarious. The two of you spend most of the afternoon on the side of the pool chattering while Tommy…well, Tommy certainly feels a bit like a third wheel. 

He knows it’s not intentional. Joel isn’t like that, he’s just…excited. He loves your mom and is eager to start this new chapter of his life, to expand his family the way he’s always wanted to. And your mom is nice enough. Sweet and easy going, a good match for his brother. But she’s a mom. And Joel’s Joel. 

It’s Saturday night, and Tommy Miller is bored half to death sipping champagne and watching two teenage girls giggle over something on their cell phones. 

And it’s not like he can leave right away. At least, not until after his desert has settled. But he knows where Joel keeps the good liquor, and dismisses himself in search of it.

He’s pouring two shots of whiskey into a glass tumbler when he hears the back door open. Tommy expects it to be Joel, coming to offer a penny for his thoughts. He opens his mouth to soothe his brother's nerves, to reassure him that his other half does fit him as perfectly as it seems. To tell him that he’s crazy for letting another little girl live under his roof, to warn him it’ll be double the hormones and double the attitude, but if it makes him happy…

“Hey.”

It’s not Joel who speaks at all. It’s your voice, soft but sultry. Tommy smiles at you over his shoulder. “Hey, kiddo.”

You saddle up to his side, so close your elbow brushes his as you lean on the counter, eyes focused on his hands as he pours. “This is the most boring party I’ve ever been to,” you say with a dispirited sigh.

It makes Tommy laugh. He sets the bottle down and lifts the tumbler to his mouth, grinning all the while. “Can’t say this little soirée is particularly, uh…exhilarating,” he says, sipping from his glass.

He can feel your attention on him, hotter even than the burn of the whiskey. Your eyes slide down the column of his throat, over his chest, stopping at his waist. You turn your head the smallest bit, not dissimilar to that of a curious little puppy. Crude and shameless in your examination. You look back up to find him staring at you, unable and unwilling to fight his knowing smirk. “Can I have some of that?”

“You old enough?” Tommy doesn’t even know why he asks, because he already knows the answer.

With a shrug of your shoulders and a sweet little smile, you say, “No. But it’s not like it would be my first time. No cherry to pop here.”

Filthy mouth for a girl your age. Funny, though. It’s kind of endearing. He was an awful lot younger than you are now when he started drinking. The first time he’d blacked out had been his sophomore year of high school—barely sixteen, woke up in the middle of a field two hours away from home. He’d had to use a pay phone to get ahold of Joel to come pick him up. 

And it’s better this way, isn’t it? To do it at home, surrounded by people who care about you. Who will keep you safe. It’s not like one drink’s going to put you on your ass, anyway.

He nods slowly. “Alright,” he says, opening the cupboard to find another tumbler. 

You stop him, delicate hand around his wrist. “Are you crazy? That’s evidence.”

Tommy furrows his brows. “What, the cup? I’ll wash it when you’re done. S’alright.”

“Waste of time.” You take the whiskey and twist off the cap, pushing the smooth glass bottle into his hands. “You know how to waterfall without drowning me?”

He likes you, Tommy thinks. Probably more than he should. He gets that familiar tug in his lower abdomen, the one that urges him to move closer, to speak slower. 

It’s a little fucked up, he knows. You’re so young, and odds are your mom will marry into the family, and then you’d be…well, you’d be his niece. Kind of. 

His heart races a little faster at the thought. 

“Well?”

“Yeah,” Tommy promises. “Yeah, I got you. Tilt your head back.”

You step further in front of him, spine pressed against the edge of the countertop. He can feel the heat of your skin against his, and it makes Tommy feel dizzy. You tilt your head back, just as he said, but it’s not quite enough. 

He reaches up, cradling your jaw in his hand, thumb pressed against the underside of your chin. He knows he could just tell you, could just use the words ‘a little more’ and you’d do as he asks. But the heated look in your eyes as he touches you so gently…it’s worth it. “Like this,” he tells you, pushing your chin back. “There you go. Now open your mouth.”

It sounds so vulgar in his ears. And Tommy doesn’t mean it that way, but you smile up at him and say, “You’re supposed to take me out on a date first, I think.”

“You think?” He scoffs. “You ever let another man in your mouth and he doesn’t wine an’ dine you first, you let me know so I can take care of him.” Tommy’s only sort of kidding. If you ever asked, he’d do it in a heartbeat. 

“Alright,” you say. “No other man, then. Just you.”

He has to look away, unable to contain his amusement. “Christ, girl.” Tommy shakes his head, delighting in the sound of your giggling. He can feel the vibration of it in his hand, still pressed against the side of your neck. “Ridiculous.”

Joel’s voice cuts through the kitchen, calling Tommy’s name. 

He tries to take a step back, get some distance, but you hook your leg around his to keep him close, bare and exposed to him from the hem of your denim shorts down. Tommy grips your thigh tightly but doesn’t quite push you away. “Yeah, Joel?”

You tilt your head back, perfect this time, just like he showed you.

Tommy shakes his head again, surprised by your brazenness, but he just can’t seem to stop smiling. He lifts the glass bottle and pours the whiskey slowly, holding in his laughter all the while.

“Bring out another slice of that pie,” Joel says from the back door. “The key lime one. Sarah wants some more.”

“Yeah, sure. One slice of key lime,” Tommy calls back, watching with rapt attention as the amber liquid pools in your pretty mouth. And then, more to you than to Joel, he says, “You got it.”

He stops just before your mouth is too full and sets the bottle back on the counter as the back door closes. You tilt your head back down, grimacing as you swallow. You have to do it twice, and Tommy knows that shit burns.

He’d feel bad if it weren’t for the drop of liquid that spills from the corner of your pursed lips, leaving a trail of whiskey as it drips down your chin. It’s such a sight to behold that his mouth waters. It takes every last ounce of his common sense to keep from leaning forward and licking it up.

Instead, he runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, collecting every last drop, and proceeds to suck it clean. “No man left behind,” he says playfully, painfully aware of the slight lift of your hips and the almost unnoticeable arch of your back.

“Right, no. Of course,” you say, words just a little breathless. “It would be, like, alcohol abuse.”

Tommy chuckles as he finally steps away, surprised by the complete lack of guilt he feels. He pulls a plate from the cupboard and finds the remainder of the key lime pie in the fridge.

Your steps echo in the kitchen when you leave, the screen door creaking as you push it open. He catches the words as you speak them under your breath just before disappearing from view. “Certainly not boring anymore.”

Tommy returns to the backyard with Sarah’s key lime pie in one hand and his refilled glass tumbler in the other, a newfound spring in his step.

It doesn’t take long for family dinners to become a tradition. They’re moved to Sunday nights, though, which works a hell of a lot better for Tommy. He usually shows up hungover, sporting a headache and a bad mood.

You’re real good at pulling him out of it, though. Always making those dirty jokes, uncaring of who hears, often earning a scolding from your mother when your humor graces the dinner table. 

Eventually, it takes nothing but a shared glance before you slink off to the kitchen, one at a time, to steal more of Joel’s whiskey. Like a secret, shared language that only the two of you understand. As if the moment the thought crosses his mind, it crosses yours, too. Almost like you’re connected, somehow. 

Sometimes Sunday dinners will be paired with a movie. Often, it’s a film Joel rented for the weekend that he claims has ‘good reviews,’ but never has a satisfying ending.

Tommy doesn’t stay for the popcorn or the candy, though. He doesn’t even stay for the movie, in truth. 

He stays because you always sit beside him on the loveseat.

It always starts innocently enough. You pull the scratchy, old blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over you both. And then you’re poking his thigh while murmuring comments in his ear.

You’ll say, “God, that guy has the worst fake crying face I’ve ever seen. Looks like he’s constipated.”

And Tommy will laugh, and Sarah will scowl and shush him, and your hand will linger on his knee. 

Halfway through, you’ll shift in your seat, trying to get comfortable. You’ll lean back against the armrest and lay your legs across his lap. And Tommy, impulsive man that he is, will slide his hands between your thighs and rub circles into your soft skin, careful not to move too fast, to be too obvious. 

Once you reach this point of the night, Tommy doesn’t pay attention to the movie at all. He focuses on you instead, on the way your breath catches in your throat when he squeezes hard, on the way your knees slowly drift further and further apart, on the flush that crawls up your cheeks each time he catches your eye.

It never feels quite so innocent when the movie ends and Tommy has to sit on the couch with that blanket over his lap just a little longer than everyone else.

In September, Joel tells him you and your mom are moving in permanently. No more weekend sleepovers. You’re taking the spare room across the hall from Sarah, the one Tommy knows like the back of his hand after crashing in it countless times.

He’s not sure why, but there’s something satisfying about knowing you’ll be there, sleeping in the bed he’s slept in hundreds of times.

Joel asks him to help move some of the furniture, and Tommy doesn’t hesitate to agree. They move the larger things, while you and Sarah excitedly unpack cardboard boxes and talk about sharing clothes and shoes.

Tommy remembers the times Sarah would beg Joel for a sibling when she was younger, and it warms his heart to see she’s finally gotten the sister she’s always wanted.

He sees you a whole lot more often after that. Tommy picks Joel and Sarah up every morning and drops Joel off after work every day.

Most of the time, you’re still sleeping when he shows up at seven. But the evidence of you is littered all over the house; your shoes by the front door, your jacket slung over the dining room chair, your denim shorts on the floor beside the laundry basket in the bathroom. 

And after work, he always comes inside to visit you. Just to see how you’re doing, to see if you’ve had a good day, often making some silly joke just so he gets to hear your sweet laughter. Sometimes he finds you watching one of those teen dramas in the living room, and he loves to poke fun at you for it. “These weird ass vampires again? What, now there’s werewolves, too? How original.”

“Shut up,” you’ll say, tossing a throw pillow at his head. 

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, darlin.’ I know how you love that freaky shit.” The embarrassment will show on your face, and Tommy will laugh but his shoulders will drop as all the stress from the day melts away.

Some nights, he’ll find you in the backyard by the pool with that tiny lime colored bikini on, lying on your belly, soaking up the sun. He’ll try to scare you, try to get close with soundless movements. 

But you always catch him. Can always sense he’s there. “Now, what if I suddenly decided I didn’t want tan lines and took off my top while you tried sneaking up on me? Tits out. Then what?”

Tommy stops just a few paces away from the spot in the grass where you’ve thrown out your beach towel. He towers over you, casting shadows across your spine. “Wouldn’t be nothin’ I haven’t seen before,” he says.

“You peeping on me, Tommy? Is that where you got your name?”

He snorts, but the idea isn’t half bad. “You fuckin’ wish.”

“Yeah, maybe I do.” The comment gives him pause, but he doesn’t have time to think too hard about it because you’re turning on your back and reaching for the string tied loosely around your neck.

You stare up at him, eyes all glittering and mischievous, hair splayed out in a perfect halo around your head. Tommy knows that he should stop you. Should laugh it off and walk away.

He doesn’t, though. His feet stay firmly planted, pressure building in his lower abdomen, cock pulsing behind the chrome zipper of his jeans.

You tug at the strings until the fabric falls slack. Still covering your chest, but only just barely. 

Tommy thinks green might be his new favorite color.

You hook your thumb around the thin string across your ribcage, the only resistance left between this moment and the next, a lone scrap of polyester that stands between Tommy being the fun uncle and the weird one.

He doesn’t say it out loud, doesn’t say anything at all. But he admits to himself only that he does want it. That he wants you. To see you, to touch you, to feel you. It’s wrong and perverted and maybe even a little gross, but you’re just so fucking pretty. 

Slowly, those loose-fitting triangles drift lower and lower, almost there. His breath comes fast and labored. The seconds tick by, feeling much longer than they truly are. 

 And then—

“Dinner!” Your mom’s voice carries through the backyard, kind and airy. “Are you staying, Tommy? We’re having pasta tonight.”

Tommy clears his throat and looks over his shoulder at your mom, who stands on the back deck completely oblivious. “Uh, no,” he says. “Not tonight. Thanks, though.”

“Suit yourself,” she says before disappearing back into the kitchen.

You extend your hand to him, the other held tightly over the fabric of your top to keep it in place. “Help me up,” you say, and he does. 

He watches as you turn your back to him, straining to memorize every last second of this moment because he never, ever wants to forget it. The smoothness of your skin, the shallow slope at the small of your back, the delicious curve of your ass—if this is all he ever gets to see, Tommy wants it stuck in his brain like glue. Permanent.

You move the arm that’s held to your chest, and the green fabric finally drops, exposing you completely. With your back still to him, all Tommy can see is the subtle curves of the sides of your breasts, but it’s enough to make his heart race. You gather your hair at the nape of your neck and ask, “Can you tie it for me?”

Tommy knows you’re doing this on purpose. Trying to get a rise out of him, and it’s working. “Course,” he says, stepping forward, placing his rough, calloused hands on your delicate shoulders. He reaches down your body and gathers the nylon strands between his fingers, careful not to touch you more than what’s necessary.

He wants to, though. Christ, does he. His lungs stutter at the thought alone. It takes everything in him to resist lowering himself to his knees and giving you the tender, loving care you deserve. He’d worship you, Tommy decides. He’d demonstrate how a girl like you is supposed to be treated. Touched slowly, gently—until you beg him for more, until you whimper and cry and remember no words but his fucking name. 

Until his touch is so deeply embedded in your skin that you’d never be able to root him out. 

But he doesn’t give you so much as a clue to what he’s thinking. Instead, he exhales a shaky breath, fanning across the back of your neck, and ties the lime colored strands into a perfect bow. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and says, “Be good, now. Alright?”

You turn to face him, that familiar, provocative smirk on your sweet mouth. “Never,” you promise, and he knows you mean it.

Tommy doesn’t even notice he’s speeding the entire way back to his shitty apartment. What’s worse is that he doesn’t even make it inside. He sits behind the wheel of his truck, right in the open, empty parking lot, squeezing his aching cock in his hand, head filled with thoughts of you.

The next time he stays for dinner, your mom makes fajitas. You sit beside him on the steps of the back porch and pick red peppers off his plate.

You and Sarah belly-laugh about some YouTube video you watched together late last night, mimicking impressions of an animatronic voice. And it’s at this very moment that Tommy realizes he might be in real trouble.

Because he wants to fuck you. Thinks about it almost every goddamn night. Can’t even get off with the women he meets at the bars anymore without closing his eyes and recalling that lime bikini or the arch of your back or the way your thighs fit so perfectly in his big hands. It’s a carnal desire. Uncontrollable.

But this? Feeling a sense of elation provoked only by knowing you're here beside him, safe, happy, and fed? It’s something else. Something heavy. Something he can’t quite put a name to because he doesn’t have any experience with it, despite his age.

All Tommy Miller knows is that he smiles just at the sound of your name.

The thought crosses his mind that he should try to keep his distance, and he tells himself he will. He lies in bed thinking about it, conducting a plan in his head while staring at the ceiling at two in the morning. He can’t not see you. But maybe he doesn’t have to be so inviting. Maybe he doesn’t have to seek you out every afternoon, doesn’t have to check in and make sure you’ve had a good day. 

Maybe he sits on the opposite end of the table during Sunday dinner. Maybe when you give him that look and head to the kitchen in search of whiskey, Tommy keeps his ass on the couch.

But then the next morning rolls around, and he’s picking Sarah and Joel up with dark circles under his eyes and a cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. He sits on the front steps and glances over his shoulder when the door creaks open and is only a little surprised when you step outside with bare feet, wearing nothing but a thin tank top and a pair of sleep shorts.

Your hair’s messy, and there’s an imprint from your pillow on your cheek. Still half asleep, you let out the cutest whimper he’s ever heard and crawl right into his lap like it’s where you belong. 

Tommy spreads his knees apart to make room for you, stubbing his cigarette out on the concrete and tossing it in the grass. He brackets his arms around your waist and interlocks his fingers at your hip while you curl up against him, stealing his warmth. 

It feels so easy, so natural that he doesn’t fight it for a second. Doesn’t even realize he should. All those big plans he made six hours ago to right this wrong dissolve as easily as sugar in water. He kisses your forehead and holds you close and says, “Hey, sweetheart. You alright? Somethin’ wrong?”

You nuzzle your nose against the crook of his neck and murmur sleepily, “Missed you.”

Just two words, but that’s all it takes. He decides that the heavy feeling inside his chest is his to cope with. He won’t make you suffer for it. Can’t imagine ever pushing you away or sitting across from you instead of at your side.

There’s only one word for this, he knows. Only one explanation for why he continuously fights for your laughter, your comfort. Only one reason he’s memorized the pattern of your breathing and would know the touch of your hands with his eyes closed.

It’s not right. 

It’s not, and Tommy knows it, but he doesn’t have the strength to fight it. So, he cradles this feeling in his hands. Holds it gently. Sees it for what it is. 

And then he tucks it away. Locks it up tight and promises never to speak of it. 

Joel takes your mom to Galveston for the weekend on their anniversary. He asks Tommy to keep an eye on you and Sarah, to keep his phone on in case the two of you need anything.

He brings takeout over after work on Friday night, but leaves the two of you to your own devices after that. Tommy remembers being your age and doesn’t want to hover, doesn’t want anyone involved to consider him a fucking babysitter. So he gives you the space he wanted when he was young. Figures if you need him, you’ll call him, and he’ll come running.

The phone doesn’t ring until late Sunday afternoon. 

Joel and your mom are due home in the next few hours, and your voice is panicky on the other end of the line. “Hey. Can you—can you come over? We sort of broke something, and I tried to fix it but I think I only made it worse.”

Tommy’s in his truck before the call even ends. He asks a hundred questions, tries to get some sort of clarification on the way over. But you don’t give much in the way of answers, and his confusion only increases when he pulls into Joel’s driveway and sees you standing on the porch with a trash bag in hand. “Okay, before you come inside, you have to swear to secrecy,” you say.

Tommy’s brows furrow.  “Christ, kid. What the hell’d you do? There a fuckin’ dead body in there?”

You roll your eyes. “Just promise you won’t tell Joel or my mom.”

“Can’t promise nothin’ if I don’t know—”

“Just promise me, Tommy,” you say, frustration building. He’s never seen you this serious, he realizes.

Even if there was a dead body behind the front door, Tommy knows he’d do nothing but protect you from the fallout. And he hates how nervous you look, so the decision comes easily. “Hey.” He reaches out and takes your hand in his, running his thumb across your knuckles. “I promise, alright?”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Cause Sarah’s in there freaking the fuck out cause I called you.”

Tommy follows you inside, mouth open with the intent to ask more questions. But they’re all answered rather quickly when he sees the state of Joel’s living room.

There are half-empty beer cans and red solo cups littered all over every viable surface. Pink and green and orange streamers hang from the ceiling fan and over the stair bannister. Confetti covers the floor and there’s a shattered glass bottle in the kitchen sink, but the most obvious stressor is the six-inch hole in the wall beside the fridge.

Sarah’s footsteps rush down the hall, finger pointed at Tommy. Her eyes are wide, and there’s genuine tension on her face. “Did you swear?”

Tommy raises both hands in surrender. “Cross my heart,” he says, and means it. “Let me take care of the wall first. I’ll get the broken glass after. Don’t wanna see either one of you near it. The last thing we need right now is a trip to the emergency room for stitches.”

Between the three of you, it doesn’t take long. Tommy finds a mesh patch, spackle, and a half-empty gallon of paint in Joel’s garage that matches the kitchen walls. He fills the cavity as quickly as he can, using the box fan from Joel’s bedroom window to speed up the drying process.

You make quick progress, and yet still, he feels his heart sink to his feet at the sound of tires in the driveway.

Both you and Sarah freeze in place, staring at each other with expressions that are somehow both horrified and amused. “We’re so fucked, dude,” you whisper.

But when it comes to hiding things like this, Tommy Miller might just consider himself an expert. “Not just yet,” he swears. “Throw it all out back. I’ll keep them outside for a minute, and then when I leave, I’ll take care of it, alright? Be quick.”

He tries not to laugh as you and Sarah launch into action, running around the room and filling your hands with what remains.

Tommy meets Joel at his truck and asks him how their vacation was, making comments and drawing the discussion out as your mom talks about the aquarium and the restaurants on the pier and how the hotel staff folded your towels into the shape of little swans. 

Joel asks how you and Sarah behaved, asks if there had been any trouble. Tommy shakes his head, leaning against the side of the truck. “Nah,” he lies easily. “They were perfect angels as usual.”

When he can no longer make viable conversation points, he very nosily helps them bring their luggage and souvenirs inside. He finds you and Sarah cuddled up on the couch, both reading books that Tommy knows you’ve never cracked open a day in your life.

You both look so out of place that it almost gives you away. He tries not to laugh, but it doesn’t quite work. Joel stares at him in confusion while you and Sarah glare at him from across the room, and so Tommy dismisses himself quickly. “Gonna head home,” he says. “Have to, uh…check on the neighbor's cat. Watching it for the weekend, too.”

He leaves through the front door, but sneaks around through the gate and quietly grabs the trash from the backyard just as he promised. It takes two trips to get it all, and he throws everything into the back of his truck on the off chance that Joel checks the bin before trash day.

Tommy’s tossing the last one when he sees you come sprinting off the front porch. He thinks maybe he’s forgotten something, or maybe Joel and your mom had seen right through the lie and all that acting was for nothing.

But then you’re throwing your arms around his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist, face buried in his shoulder. 

Holding you is as easy as breathing. He keeps you upright, keeps you close, with his big hands spread wide over your back.

You say, “Thank you, Uncle Tommy,” and the air is punched from his fucking lungs. 

It’s the first time you've said it. The very first time, and he feels giddy and nervous, and his stomach gets all tied in knots like he’s some teenage boy. He squeezes you tighter, and his laughter slips out unrestrained this time. 

It’s filthy and dirty and disgusting, but he loves it. “I’ve always got you, darlin',” he says. “You know that.”

You lift your head to look at him, and your pretty mouth is suddenly so close to his that you share the same breath. “Yeah,” you giggle. “I know you do.”

It warms him from the inside out to hear it. He loves being this for you. A holder of secrets, a shoulder to lean on, a solver of problems. He loves that you make him feel needed—wanted in a way he’s never been before.

He loves being your Uncle Tommy. 

You press your forehead to his, and desire creeps up his spine, hot and thick and asphyxiating. His limbs feel heavy, and his breath gets caught in his lungs. It’s painful how badly he wants you. Like a peak he can’t quite reach, an itch he can’t quite scratch. You thread your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling gently, and his eyelids flutter closed. 

Nothing has ever felt as good as it feels to be touched by you, Tommy realizes. And he knows nothing will ever compare. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck, sweetheart, I…”

There are no words to say. They get all jumbled in his head, and the only thing he can make out in the chaos is his yearning.

“I know,” you say. Because of course you do. You’ve always known him, have always understood him in a way no one else has. Have always been able to see the look on his face and read the thoughts in his head. “I know.”

Slowly, carefully, you untangle your legs from around his waist. You slide down his body and he knows you can feel it. Knows there’s no way in hell the throbbing of his cock could ever be mistaken as just his belt buckle. 

But you say nothing. Just smile up at him with those hungry eyes and press a sweet, soft kiss to his cheek.

He drives home in silence.

No music, no news station. Even the windows he leaves up. Tommy can’t think beyond the taste of your oxygen, can’t see past the absolute fucking shit show he’s gotten himself into. He sits in his truck outside his apartment for twenty minutes before he moves again, scratching the stubble along his jaw.

And then, as if he hadn’t almost kissed you in broad daylight, the world keeps turning.

He cleans out the bed of his truck, showers the smell of paint and cheap beer from his skin, and then he goes to work the next morning. He teases Joel about the swan-shaped towels, but there’s no salt to it. Truly, he’s happy for his brother. 

Joel’s been so selfless his whole life. Has given the first half of it up to raise Tommy and the second half to raise Sarah and never complained, not even once.

If anyone in the world deserves that gooey, cliche kind of love that’s just good and uncomplicated and easy, it’s Joel. They really are perfect for each other, he and your mother.

Tommy tries not to think about how his happiness for his brother is paired with a simmering jealousy underneath. Decides to take that green-eyed confession to his grave.

Friday afternoon, one of the electricians Joel hired a few months ago invites Tommy out to a nightclub. “The whole team’s going tomorrow,” he says. “Booze, girls, drugs if you’re into that kinda thing. One of those pop-up ones. It’s in that old warehouse on the other side of town.”

Sounds tempting, he’ll admit. Right up his alley. But Tommy knows himself, and knows that in a place like that he’s likely to go a little overboard. Spend too much money, have too many drinks, wake up the next morning with a girl in his bed he doesn’t remember talking to. And if he does that, he likely won’t make it to Sunday dinner at Joel’s. 

Which means no time with you. 

No stolen, longing glances across the room. No heat of your thigh pressed against his. No thieving fingers on his plate.

Tommy shakes his head. “Thanks, Mike. But, uh…I’m—I’m good.”

He thinks that’s the end of it. But then Joel asks, real gently, “You got a girl or somethin’ I don’t know about?”

“What? Nah, man. No. Definitely not.” Tommy knows his answer comes too quickly, too dismissive for it to be even remotely believable. But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re not his girl. You just…well, you’re his niece. Sort of.

Joel eyes him suspiciously. All he says is, “Never would’ve imagined you’d skip out on that.” But it’s enough to convince Tommy that his brother doesn’t believe him for even a second.

He lay awake that night, head filled with thoughts of you. Because Tommy knows Joel’s right. Before you’d waltzed into his life and altered its course, he would’ve been all over that. Would’ve jumped at the opportunity for an exclusive warehouse party, even knowing what would likely happen. He’d take the migraine and the dehydration and the overdrafted checking account at just the plausible idea of a good time.

And he’d declined so quickly. That’s the part that gets him. The thing that gives him perspective. He hadn’t even debated it for a single second because the things that once brought him joy pale in comparison to simply being at your side. 

Saturday morning, Tommy makes a phone call. Says he changed his mind and gets the address of the warehouse.

He spends his afternoon running errands, doing everything he knows he won’t have the energy for tomorrow. And then he showers and puts gel in his hair and picks out a nice outfit. Starched blue jeans that fit him nicely and an expensive leather belt and a white t-shirt. He puts on a simple gold chain and sprays his favorite cologne (trying not to think about the fact that it’s only his favorite because one afternoon you’d said he smelled so good he was ��edible’). 

On the drive over, he has to hype himself up. Has to try and convince himself that this is a good thing. It’s what he needs. To get out there again, to find someone who makes him feel the way you do. Someone nice and age-appropriate and not loosely familial. Someone who doesn’t know Joel or your mother or Sarah or you in any fucking capactiy whatsoever. 

Tommy doesn’t think it’s likely that he’ll find that person here, of course. But there’s a possibility, right? To meet someone who could be the love of his life. A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.

There are more people than he expects. The warehouse looks almost dark on the outside. Quiet and empty. But once the bouncer checks his ID and lets him through the double doors, the inside is a different world entirely. 

There are three different bars. One on the left wall, one on the right, and one in the very center of the room in the shape of an oval. There’s a big stage with a live DJ and house music playing loud over the speakers. The dance floor is lively and drenched in neon lights and the air is thick with humidity and the smell of liquor.

Excitement trickles into his bloodstream. It’s been a long while since he’s been in a place like this, but Tommy thinks it might just cure him.

All it takes is a quick text before he finds Mike and the rest of the guys from the work site that decided to show up. There’s only a handful of them, but they all split the bill for a round of shots, and Tommy orders a whiskey and coke. 

They’re here for one reason, of course—and Tommy’s no different. They chat for a while, but eventually the guys all peel off from the group one by one after buying a girl a drink and then proceeding to disappear into the crowd of dancing bodies. 

Mike has a wife, but even he finds someone to dance with, and eventually Tommy sits at the bar alone. 

He pulls out his phone. Opens your thread of messages and smiles to himself as he scrolls through them. It’s filled with silly photos and dirty jokes and the occasional text from you that reads, ‘miss you today<3’ and his perpetual response, ‘I always miss you more. Be good, sweetheart.’ 

Tommy’s so deeply focused on his phone that he nearly jumps out of his skin when his drink is pulled right out of his hands.

He looks up with a scowl on his face, not anticipating a fight but preparing for one, and then—

“Can I have some of that?” You don’t wait for his answer before sipping from his glass, leaving lip gloss stains in the same place his mouth was moments ago.

“What in the fuck?” A crease forms between his brows as he takes in your familiar face, backlit by green and yellow lights. “They’re checking IDs at the door,” he says. “How did you even get in here?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, come on, Uncle Tommy. You’re telling me you never had a fake when you were my age?”

Tommy knows he probably should say something…responsible right now. Should probably warn you of the dangers in a place like this, especially for a girl like you. Should be taught about covetous men with wandering hands and powders dropped in drinks and cigarettes laced with God knows what.

But he did have a fake ID at your age and could be found at places a whole lot like this one. Two peas in a fucking pod, he thinks. 

So, instead, he asks, “Did you, uh…come here with someone? Friends or…I don’t know. A boyfriend, maybe?”

He steels himself in preparation for your answer. You’ve never mentioned a boyfriend before, but you’re at that age. Probably experimenting a little, sifting through the options to find which one suits you best.

But you’re standing at a bar, all alone, buying your own drink. Shitty fucking option, Tommy thinks.

“Why? You jealous or something?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and Tommy knows you’re just trying to get a rise out of him. But the sad part is that you’re not too far off, and that’s what has him turning to the bartender and ordering another.

“Got no reason to be jealous,” Tommy answers with a shrug. “Ain’t exactly like I’ve got a spot on the roster, darlin’.”

Your smile falls. Just barely, almost undetectable. But Tommy notices. Would notice it even if you were across the room. “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

“Well, then you’re a fucking idiot, Tommy Miller.” You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. The words are sharp, icy. You take a long drink from his stolen glass. “What stops you?”

His brows furrow. “Stops me…?”

“From doing what you want to me.” It gives him pause, laying it out so boldly like that. The truth he’s never spoken aloud falls so easily from your tongue. “We get so close,” you elaborate. “Just one moment, one choice away…but you never do it. You always hesitate, and then the moment’s gone. So what stops you?”

His morals, your age, your vibrance. You’re so good, so lively and carefree and happy. How does he explain that he doesn’t want to ruin this? Ruin you? How does he explain that taking that next step with you would tarnish both of you forever? Red to blue, green to yellow. It would never be the same. 

He’s supposed to protect you. Supposed to give you a shoulder to cry on and a soft landing in your time of need and spot you a twenty when you’re short on cash. Supposed to be a guiding hand as an uncle should. He’s not supposed to be…whatever this is.

Tommy’s relieved when the bartender hands him his drink. “You know what stops me,” he says as if it’s obvious, throwing back half the glass in one long drink. The whiskey burns.

“Would it be different if you didn’t know me?”

“Very,” he answers honestly, his mind filling so easily with those obscene possibilities. “But I do know you, so it doesn’t matter.”

That familiar, troublesome smirk finds its way to your glossy lips. You toss back what remains in your glass, set it on the bar, and say, “I’m going to walk away. Okay? And you’re going to have one of those cases of temporary amnesia.”

Tommy laughs and shakes his head. “You’re crazy,” he says.

But you don’t pay him any mind. “You’re going to forget everything you know about me. Every last detail. I’m just some girl at a club, and you’re just some guy at the bar.” You put your hands on his shoulders, shaking lightly, staring up at him with starry eyes. Tommy’s heart races behind his sternum, but he can’t stop grinning. “I’m not me, and you’re not you. And tomorrow, you’ll be cured. Everything will go back to normal, just like it was. Okay?”

“S’a real bad idea, darlin’,” he warns.

“So don’t make me do it alone.”

Tommy swallows hard. He’s never said no to you in all his life, and it’s just…it’s just one night, right? Maybe it’s what he needs. A slow release of pressure, a controlled indulgence to prevent an explosion.

You see the decision as he makes it. Know what he’s thinking without him speaking a single word. Tommy covers his mouth to stifle his rugged amusement as he watches you take five steps away from him, turn in a complete circle, and then make your way back to the bar.

In a dramatic show of film-esque seduction, you lean against the bar and say, “Well, aren’t you a tall glass of water?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Tommy mutters to himself, smiling so hard the apples of his cheeks hurt.

You playfully slap his bicep with the back of your hand. “Aren’t you going to ask if you can buy me a drink? Wine and dine me?”

He recalls your very first conversation, that one in Joel’s kitchen when you’d promised not to let any man inside your mouth without properly romancing you first. “Alright, then,” he resigns. “What’re you havin,’ sweetheart?”

“Whiskey,” you say, and he’s not the least bit surprised.

Tommy buys your drink and says, “You look…really beautiful.” You’re wearing a silvery satin dress, sinfully short, tight in all the right places. The straps are thin against your otherwise bare shoulders, and he reaches out and gently runs his knuckles down the curve of your collarbone. He thinks it might be the very first time he’s ever touched you here, and it’s not inherently a sexual caress, but it feels so… intimate. Heavy.

You glance down at yourself, at the strappy black heels on your feet. “Thank you,” you say. “But I think it’d look even better on your bedroom floor.”

“Fuck yeah it would,” he agrees, chuckling.

“Do you wanna dance?”

Tommy’s never abandoned a drink so fast in his life. He takes your hand in his and says, “I thought you’d never ask.”

He leads you through the crowd while the DJ plays some bass-heavy pop song he’s heard on the radio a hundred times. He finds a reasonable space and raises your hand above your head, turning you so he can properly appreciate the sight of that dress.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he says. “Do you know that?”

You roll your eyes like it’s a joke, but Tommy’s being dead serious. You say, “Shut up.” But he sees the way your cheeks heat, even beneath the flashing lights.

You sway your hips in time to the beat, body moving in sync with the music. There’s nothing shy or timid about it; that allure of yours comes so easily, glowing from the inside out.

Tommy’s never been a good dancer, and he knows it, but it doesn’t feel that way at all. You seem to find such amusement in his nonsensical movements, not a drop of apprehension trickles into his psyche. 

When you grab his hands and place them on your hips, he lets his instinct take over. Pulls you in close, chests pressed together, his thigh between your legs. You sing the lyrics as if every song is your favorite with a face-splitting grin and those sweet giggles falling from your lips. He pushes you away and spins you around, only to pull you right back. Right into his waiting embrace, right where you belong. Your breath comes fast, but you don’t slow down, and neither does he.

He’s not sure he’s ever felt like this in his entire life. This open, this full. A strange sort of nostalgia passes through him, a homesickness, missing the moment before it’s even passed, knowing he’ll eventually look back on this night as the best he’s ever had.

The air is hot and stiff, but he breathes in your oxygen, and it gives him life. You move together so seamlessly, and Tommy thinks about how he’d come here seeking the possible love of his life and wonders if it’s fate that you were here.

Fate that you had a fake ID, that you somehow knew about the same exclusive pop-up party he’d declined and then came to anyway. Fate that you’d be here alone, that you’d choose one bar out of three others, and that he just happened to be standing there at the very same time. In a warehouse filled with a thousand strangers, you’d somehow found him.

The songs flow and fade, bleeding from one to the next. You dance and dance, and Tommy watches you—enthralled, obsessed, in love.

He loses track of the time, thinks hours could have passed without his notice, and he wouldn’t have even cared. But when he sees a bead of sweat trickle down your neck, he asks, “Wanna step out for a minute?”

You nod once, and Tommy grabs your hand again and pulls you out of the crowd. He gives the bouncer a tight-lipped smile as you slip out of the wide doors. There’s a designated smoking area near the entrance, and that’s where Tommy leads you. 

The music can still be heard outside, muffled and low. He pulls the pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket, lights one, and inhales deeply. When he looks up, he finds you watching him, leaning back against the concrete wall of the warehouse, the blue light of the moon reflected in your eyes. 

You outstretch your hand and take the cigarette from between his fingers, taking a slow drag. “Do you bring girls you don’t know home often?”

Tommy can see right through you. Sees that unease beneath your smile, sees the way you feel the need to ask but don’t want the answer, and relates to it. It makes his stomach turn, though. Because he doesn’t ever want you to think of yourself that way, doesn’t want you to think for a single second that this is anything like that.

Because you’re not a girl he doesn’t know. Not just a means to an end. You’re you.

You’re everything.

“I don’t like this,” he admits quietly. “The pretending.”

You pass the cigarette back to him, and when he puts it to his mouth, he can taste the cherry flavor of your lip gloss on the orange filter. “Would you have as much fun, though? With all that added weight.”

Tommy doesn’t know. Has never had a fucking clue about anything in all his life, really. Never knew what he wanted to do or who he wanted to be.

The only thing that has ever been clear to him is you.

“If we stopped pretending,” you say. “What would you do?”

He hesitates.

And then decides not to let this moment pass him.

He places both hands on either side of your face and kisses you hard, hungry. Tasting you feels like a breath of fresh air, like relief. Your bottom lip slots between his so perfectly that he thinks you must have been made for him, that there could never be anyone else. When you let out the most delicious whimper he’s ever heard, Tommy slides his tongue into your mouth and moans.

It feels like time wasted, like this is what he’s been meant to do his whole life, and now he has to make up for the opportunity lost.

When he pulls away, it’s reluctant, still cradling your pretty face in his hands. Your eyes are wide, and your breath is labored. 

“That’s what I would do,” he says.

A minute passes, and you just stare at him, searching his eyes for something. Doubt, maybe. But you won’t find any, because Tommy Miller has never been more sure of anything in his entire life.

And then, finally—

“Uncle Tommy?”

No more pretending. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I want you to take me home. Right now,” you say.

“Now?”

“Yes. Right the fuck now. Please.”

He smiles widely. “C’mon, baby.”

Tommy takes you to his truck and buckles you in. The ride back to his apartment feels like a blur. He’s barely had two drinks, but you make him feel drunk.

You can’t keep your hands off him. It only takes three seconds once he pulls onto the road before you’re unbuckling your seatbelt and sliding across the cab. You press wet, open-mouthed kisses to the side of his neck and run your hands over his strong thighs, giggling all the while.

He has to reel you in a little after almost running a red light. “Careful, now,” he says, taking your hand in his free one and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “If I die before I get to eat your pussy I’ll come back and haunt the fuck out of you.”

You throw your head back and laugh, but Tommy means it.

It’s a relief when he pulls in the parking lot in one piece, but before he even cuts the ignition, you’re crawling into his lap.

His pretty, desperate girl. 

You kiss him deep, tongue sliding against his, hips tilting over the already hard cock in his jeans. He could cum just like this, Tommy knows, with you on top of him and your hands tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck. You smell sweet and seductive, and he can think of nothing beyond this singular moment.

“Let’s just do it right here,” you say, panting, hands sliding beneath his t-shirt. “I want you so bad. I’ve wanted it for so long, please.”

There are no words to describe how much it satisfies him to hear it, to hear you beg for him. But you deserve better than this. Deserve so much more than a back seat fuck. He wants to give you everything, wants to give you all of him. “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he says. Because he does. “Wanna see you in my bed, though.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, and Tommy uses it to his advantage, holding you close as he quickly gets out of the truck and locks it behind him. You’re a giggling mess, pressing kisses to his face as he makes his way inside and up the stairs to his apartment. “You’re so handsome,” you say. “Have I ever told you that?” 

“A hundred times,” he says, kicking the door closed behind him. “But one more won’t hurt.”

His apartment is a mess. There are dishes in the sink and clothes on the floor and an empty plate on the coffee table, but just seeing you here makes his heart swell in his chest. 

He begins to wonder if this is where you’re meant to be; taking up room in his space, kicking off your shoes at the front door.

Tommy’s cock pulses in the confines of his jeans.

“Kiss me again,” you say. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

He does. His mouth clashes against yours, tongue licking into your sweet mouth, savoring the taste of what remains of your shimmery lip gloss.

Tommy’s hands drift lower, squeezing at the round globes of your ass, pulling you impossibly closer. One of his hands dips between your thighs, feeling the soft lace you wear beneath that sinful dress. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck, I need to taste you. Been dreamin’ about it.”

“You dream about me?”

He wraps his big arms around your waist and lifts you. “Every fuckin’ night,” he admits, turning towards his bedroom. 

Doesn’t make it very far, though. Because when you wrap your legs around his waist and rut against him, Tommy lets out a low sound from somewhere deep inside his chest before laying you back against the kitchen island. 

“Fuck it,” he murmurs to himself. Close enough, he thinks.

You look so fucking pretty like this. All sprawled out for him, flushed with your swollen lips parted and your pupils blown wide. He’d always known it would be a sight to behold, but this…it’s something else entirely. 

Cataclysmic. Divine sacrilege.

He leans over you and kisses your chest softly. “Tell me you want this,” he says. “That you want me.”

Your answer comes fast. “I want you, Uncle Tommy.” 

And he feels a deep-seated desire swirl low in his abdomen. Because it’s fucked up. He knows it is. Is completely, lucidly aware that this is all wrong. Filthy and twisted.

Yet he wants it anyway. Maybe not despite it, but because of it. Pleasure heightened with this sick perversion.

He slides his hands under your dress and hooks his fingers around the lace, pulling it down your legs. You’re so wet for him he can see it stick, webs of slick snapping as he groans at the sight. “Goddamn, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Didn’t tell me it was like this.”

“I need you so bad it hurts,” you tell him. “Get so wet just thinking about it.” Your voice is low and desperate, almost a cry. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “Uncle Tommy’s going to take care of you, okay? Gonna make that ache go away.”

He kisses you slowly. Starts at your ankle and slowly works his way up. He kisses and bites the insides of your thighs, savoring the moment not for you but for him, leaving indentations of his teeth in your flesh. A memory, he thinks. A promise that you’ll think of this tomorrow and the next day. That you’ll remember the way he made you feel.

Then he’s rolling your dress up your hips, delighting in the way you get all shy and squirmy as he takes you in, unashamed in his study. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he says. “Gonna make her feel real good, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.”

He surges forward, licking through your folds. memorizing the way your slit feels beneath his tongue because he never wants to forget this. Never wants to forget the way you gasp beneath him or the way your hands pull at his hair. “Oh my god.”

“Shhh,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you, pretty girl.” he kisses your clit. Once, twice, before sucking it between his lips. He spreads your legs wide and presses his mouth to you, nose crinkling against your pubic bone. 

He could die here a happy man. You taste divine, better than anything his mind could have ever conjured up. He licks and sucks until you’re writhing, and when he presses two fingers gently into your opening, your back arches off the counter top. 

Tommy hooks two fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot, your perfect moans echoing through his kitchen. He wraps an arm around your thigh and pulls you roughly to the edge of the counter. His tongue is warm and wet as he uses it to circle your clit, groaning against you, sending vibrations through your body.

His name falls from your mouth between gasping breaths. You grind yourself against him, making a delicious mess of his face and pulling at the roots of his hair.

He can feel you clenching around his fingers, chasing that high, chasing release. Tommy decides to give you a little encouragement. “Go on, now,” he mutters against your spit-soaked clit. “Take it, baby. You deserve it. Been so fuckin’ good for so long. Deserve a reward.”

Your breath halts, just for a second. And then you let out a long, salacious moan and your legs tremble around his head. Tommy feels your walls pulse around his two fingers, squeezing them hard. “Fuck, fuck—”

“That’s it,” he praises, flicking his soft tongue gently over your clit, fingers working you through it, pressing in deep. “There you go, shhh. Just like that.”

He looks up at you, branding this image in his brain. The arch of your back, the strain in your throat as you desperately take in oxygen, the way the shimmery, silver sequins on your dress cast little rainbows across his apartment. He’ll never forget it for as long as he lives.

“You look so beautiful, darlin’,” he says. “So pretty when you cum for your Uncle Tommy.”

Only when your writhing stops and your breath evens out does he slow the rhythm of his fingers, caressing your insides slowly, gently, making sure he coaxes it all out of you and delighting in the little whimpers you make in response. And then he carefully slides them out of you, digits slick and glossy with your release. Your eyes are glued to his as he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, not wasting a single drop. That smirk of yours forms as you say, breathless, “Kiss me.”

Tommy grips the back of your neck and pulls you forward, grinning as he gives you what you need. He kisses you eagerly, tongue finding yours, licking into your mouth.

“Can taste it,” you mutter, giggling against his lips. “I made a real mess of you.”

In more ways than one, Tommy thinks. “Tastes fuckin’ good, though,” he says. “Just gettin’ started, anyway.”

He lifts you off the counter, laughing as you squeal in surprise when he tosses you over his shoulder so easily. You fist your hands in the bottom of his wrinkled t-shirt, seeking stability. “I bet you have blue sheets,” you say.

Tommy snorts. “You’ve thought about the color of my sheets?” Such a simple thing, an irrelevant part of his life that has never mattered to him in any capacity.

“Duh,” you say as if it’s obvious, and Tommy’s suddenly overwhelmed with warmth. He likes that you think about it—his sheets, his bedroom, him. Likes knowing he’s not been alone in his mania. “Always knew I’d end up in them.”

He laughs darkly as he pushes open the door and shoulders you onto his bed, right in the center of his navy blue sheets.

You smile up at him, beaming with pride, and he shakes his head as you say, “Told ya.”

It doesn’t surprise him that you’d guessed correctly because you know him. Better than anyone else ever has. Because you and Tommy are one and the same, two sides to the same twisted coin. “Yeah, yeah, alright,” he teases, crawling over you, knees braced on either side of your thighs. “S’enough outta you, know it all.”

You open your mouth, probably to make some filthy joke, but whatever it is never sees the light of day because Tommy hooks his fingers around the thin straps of your dress and pulls them down your shoulders. He tugs at the fabric until your breasts are bared to him, pretty and soft and perfect.

He cups them tenderly in his hands, thumbs grazing the hardened peaks of your nipples. He watches goosebumps rise across your chest, and it brings a sick smile to his face. “S’that feel good, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes heavy. “Touch me more. Wanna feel you.”

Tommy’s never heard a more tempting request in his life. He leans over and presses his mouth to your chest, hands roaming over your skin. He takes your nipple in his mouth and flicks his tongue over the sensitive flesh, sighing against you at the sound of your moan.

He pushes your dress down to your hips and lets you shimmy the rest of the way out of it, kicking the shiny fabric onto the floor. You lift your hips to meet his, and his cock is so hard and needy that the smallest bit of friction nearly knocks him on his ass. “Shit,” he hisses, trailing kisses across your chest, spreading his worship. He plans to take his time, wants to see just how close he can get you with just his mouth on your tits.

But then your voice breaks through your breathy whimpers. “Uncle Tommy,” you say. “Wait. Wait, I—”

He stops, pulling back, giving you room to breathe. The coldness of fear begins to trickle in as he anticipates your next words. Has he gone too far? Said too much, moved too fast?

“I want you in my mouth,” you say with those pretty eyes, and he convinces himself he’s dreaming. “Please.”

Because this can’t be real. There’s no way in hell he’s looking at you, naked in his bed, begging to suck his cock. His pretty, perfect girl. Tommy runs his hands down his face, and a sound of utter disbelief escapes him. But then he’s nodding, just as eager. “Yeah, baby,” he says. “Course you can.”

Your responding smile sends a shiver down his spine. Carefully, you move from beneath him, hands tugging at the buckle of his leather belt. He can do nothing but watch with reverence as you unbutton his jeans and pull at his zipper, tongue wetting your lips. 

The air gets stuck in his lungs as you reach into his boxers and pull him out with gentle fingers. It’s hypnotic, the way you touch him. You press a sweet, chaste kiss to his tip and with that one touch alone he’s already fighting for his fucking life.

But he lets you do what you want to him. Lets you move at your own pace. Tommy’s grateful you’re slow in your pursuit, though. Tasting him, tongue gliding down the underside of his shaft, savoring.

When you finally take him fully in your mouth, his head falls back and he sighs deeply. It’s almost too much to feel you and look at you, but Tommy doesn’t want to miss it. He strokes your hair as you hollow out your cheeks and greedily swallow him down. “Fuck,” he groans. “Look so good with my dick in your mouth. Yeah, there you go. Just like that.”

You suck harder, take him in deeper. His vision blurs, and pleasure builds and builds and builds, rushing to the surface of his skin. 

“Easy,” he warns. You look at him through your lashes, lips parted around his heavy cock. It’s the most pornographic image he’s ever fucking seen and it’s going to have him cumming down your throat. “Easy, easy, easy—” Tommy takes a handful of your hair and pulls you back, dick pulsing as he watches strands of your spit stick to him. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart.”

Pure, sprightly giggles bubble from your glossy lips. So beautiful it hurts him. “Can I tell you what I want?”

“Always,” he promises, and means it.

You move across his bed, crawling back towards the headboard. Your voice is low, a seductive whisper as you tell him, “I want you to take off your clothes.”

He does. Starts by pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. Then he takes off his boots and shoves his jeans and boxers down, discarding them beside your pretty little dress.

“I want you to come over here and kiss me,” you say. Tommy moves on instinct, crawling towards you. He’s nearly there when you speak again, mouth hovering over yours. “And then I want you inside me, Uncle Tommy.”

He shivers as you spread your legs slowly, putting on a sweet little show. All for him. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” you murmur. You slide your hands down your body, that troublesome look on your face, teasing. As you glide your fingers through your pussy, slick and glossy, you continue. “Wanna watch it go in. Wanna see it here,” you say, pressing hard against your lower abdomen.

Tommy’s always given you everything you’ve ever wanted. Has never had any problem satisfying all your needs. And that doesn’t change now, either.

He kisses you slowly. Meaningfully. There’s intent behind it. Love. Adoration. He hopes you can feel it. Hope you can sense it.

With his forehead against yours, he lines himself up at your entrance. He cradles your face with his hand. Says, “Tell me if it hurts.”

And then he’s pushing inside you, and his hands shake. You watch it, just as you wanted. Watch his cock split you open, watch your pretty pussy make room for him. And Tommy watches you, delighting in the way your eyes go wide and watery, in the way your lips part in a gasp.

He sinks into you all the way, hips pressed tight against yours. And when he pulls back out his cock is covered in your slick. “How’s it feel, baby?”

You nod frantically, chest heaving. “S’good,” you answer. “So fucking…God. You’re so big.”

Tommy tilts his hips, quickly finding a cadence that makes you cry out his name. You feel like heaven. Warm and wet, soaked. The sounds echo in his bedroom, obscene and filthy. He kisses your forehead, your nose, your temple. Every part of you he can reach. “This what you wanted? Hm?”

“Yes, yes, please—”

“Shh, s’alright, darlin’. Ain’t gotta beg me. Uncle Tommy’s got you.” Your silky walls grip his cock tighter as he says it, and he knows then and there that you’re the same in this, too. Knows that you like the perversion, the corruption, the filth. 

He thrusts harder, deeper. Your back arches, and your hand reaches for his. Tommy laces his fingers through yours and has never felt closer to anyone in his life. You say, “I needed you,” and he agrees.

“I know, baby. Me too. I’m here now. Gonna make you cum for me.” He uses his free hand and presses it to your lips. “Open your mouth.”

You do. His perfect girl. He presses his fingers past your lips, into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around them, coating them in your spit. And then he snakes his arm between you and circles your clit, tortorously gentle. “Oh my fucking God,” you cry, squeezing your eyes shut.

But Tommy won’t have it. “Nuh-uh. Look at me, baby,” he says. “C’mon. Wanna see the way you look cumming on Uncle Tommy’s cock, huh?” You do as he says, and a tear rolls down your cheek. “There you go. Just like that. Good job.”

“Tommy,” you whimper, pussy fluttering around him. He’s not going to last long, not like this. Not when you cry for him so beautifully. 

He circles your clit faster, fighting off the bliss that creeps up his spine. “Right here,” he says, kissing your tears away, salt clinging to his lips. “Stay right here with me, sweet girl. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well for me.”

Your fingernails dig into the back of his hand and he knows you’re there, can feel your pussy sucking him in deeper. “Cum with me,” you say, breath ragged. “Cum with me, please.”

“Fuck, fuck…baby, I don’t know if—”

“It’s okay, I promise,” you tell him, voice pleading. “I’m on birth control, I swear. Just…I want to feel it, Uncle Tommy. Want you to fill me up.”

This will damn him, he knows.

“Please, please, please. I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum, oh my God—”

He’d do anything for you.

“Always gonna give you what you want,” he says. “My favorite girl.”

Your eyes are starry as you crest that high, somehow even more exquisite than the first time. Sweet moans fill the room, and your thighs shake as your release rocks through you, spine bending off his blue sheets. You cry out his name, and that’s what sets him over the edge.

His cock pulses inside of you, painting your insides with thick, sticky ropes of cum. It’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, and he knows he’ll chase this high for the rest of his fucking life. “That’s it,” he whispers, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Such a filthy little thing, beggin’ for your Uncle Tommy to fill you up with his cum. You’re so perfect for me.”

He gives you every last drop, thrusting in deep until his cock is so overstimulated it almost hurts. But he circles your clit with his spit-soaked fingers until you come down, walls spasming uncontrollably around him.

When he finally pulls out of you, he does it gently. And then he collapses on the bed beside you, panting to try and slow the racing of his heart. He turns his head to look at you and catches your eye, and he’s not quite sure why, but you both grin and just laugh.

There’s no dirty joke or any sort of amusement. Nothing’s funny, but Tommy supposes he’s just…well, he’s happy. Seeing you on the right side of his mattress, all naked and fucked out and satisfied, it just feels so right.

And he knows it’s not. Knows it’s so far removed from the idea of right that it’s absurd, but you’re stifling your laughter behind your hands and turning away from him to try and find some sort of composure, and Tommy thinks maybe he just doesn’t fucking care.

Doesn’t care about right or wrong, doesn’t care about what anyone would think or say. Because how could he when you’re at his side? How could anything else on God’s green earth ever matter to him as much as you?

It can’t happen again. He knows that.

But this is enough, Tommy thinks. This one night. A stolen moment in time that will forever belong only to the two of you, where nothing and no one matters beyond his apartment. The life here, the love between you, encased so perfectly in these four walls…it’s a gift. One he doesn’t deserve. Sweet as maple syrup and warm as the hot summer sun.

And yet it’s been given to him anyway, and Tommy Miller’s going to cherish it for the rest of his life.

When you finally turn back to him, you lie on your side with a face-splitting grin. “We’re so fucked,” you say.

Tommy laughs. “Oh, absolutely,” he agrees, pulling you close. He wraps his arms around your waist and treasures the weight of your head on his chest. “Totally, completely fucked.”

“Well, at least we’re together.”

He smiles. Presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah,” he whispers. “At least there’s that.”

Two peas in a fucking pod.

(ermmmm ik i said i wanted to write more single part fics this year but if literally just one person asks for a part two I'll cave)

[divider by @bernardsbendystraws]