#and how they both understand how it's like to have the world on their shoulder | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katarinaeviswrld · 1 day

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𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢....

if the sun refused to shine…baby, would i still be ur lover?

a/n: my first angst, no judgement pls >.<

⋆.ೃ𐦍*:･⋆𐦍.ೃ࿔*:･

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

18+ !! MINORS DNI

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

cw: angst, troubled love, established relationship, mentions of past intimacy (sexual & emotional), slight cursing

tags ✮⋆˙ oneshot, angst, distantlover!zoro x y/n, gn!reader, falling out of love trope,

now playing: intro (end of the world) - ariana grande

“Do you love me?”

“What?”

“Do you love me like I love you?”

He couldn’t lie when he felt surprised hearing those words out of your mouth, “Yea, why?”

You sighed, “I’ve been thinking…we’ve been distant recently and it’s making me question our relationship.” You sat next to him as you laid back on the cushioned seat. The somber blue tint illuminating on both your faces as you guys sat alone in the aquarium room. It’s quiet.

He went silent for a minute before letting out a soft chuckle, “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t ya?”

“I’m not joking, Zoro.”

The way you said his name struck a nerve in his body. He wasn’t used to this type of confrontation, rather, he wasn’t used to feeling this type of way at all. He hated it. It was like his heart strings were tugging at him as if it purposely made him uncomfortable.

You huffed, “Five weeks…” You felt your lips quiver as you swallowed the lump in your throats. You wanted him to understand, “That’s how long it’s been since we’ve held a proper conversation, since you’ve kissed me on the lips, since you told me I love you.”

“Babe-“

“Don’t mess this up, please.”

His mouth went dry at your words. He has so many questions pooling in his head. Yet, he couldn’t find the right words to answer you. His mind went blank.

He choked on his words, “I guess I’ve just been really busy training.”

You looked up at him with saddened eyes, “Is that really it?”

Fuck. The realization hit him like a truck. He questioned his inner monologue, did he really love you? You’ve been together for a year now. It felt like forever ago when you first became a part of the crew, you automatically clicked with everyone with your bubbly personality and generosity. The first time he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t help but be drawn to your aura in a different sense. The way you walked, the way you talked, the way your eyes locked with his; It drove him nuts. You were just so alluring the swordsman couldn’t understand the feeling forming in his stomach. Was he nervous?

During those two years, his feelings only grew even more for you. Everything was all confusing. He was a swordsman for christ’s sake, he don’t have time for sappy love. Yet, you lingered in his mind like a treadmill. He wanted to pull on the emergency stop so badly, yet…he still kept running.

The day you asked him out, he couldn’t help but feel his heart explode into pieces. You were just so beautiful/handsome, he felt like he didn’t deserve you. The devil on his shoulder was practically yelling him to run away, yet his conscious was practically telling him to say yes. You both shared your first kisses that day.

“I love you.”

“and, I love you.”

The months turned into a year, you experienced everything together. Sure, there were moments were you both had alone time for yourselves. Pretty arguments turned into “make up and forgets.”

But, this time felt different.

Whenever you kissed his lips, his heart didn’t flutter like it used too. He stopped initiating sex even in times when he needed relief. It was like you just became a blur in his mind as he started feeling himself slip away from your embrace. He wanted to love you back…but he just couldn’t. Each day felt like his grasp was slipping away from you. He couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it.

“I’m tired. I’m tired of waiting, avoiding the truth, running in circles for you.”

“We’re 21, not 19 anymore…For fuck sake, Roronoa, I just want you to hear me like I hear you.” Your lips quivered as you choked back tears.

“No, [name], listen. I do love you, I just got caught up with bulking up I just unintentionally isolated myself.”

Slap

The sound of the hard contact of your hand to his face echoed before the sound of water bubbling in the tank continued.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

He rubbed the impacted area, “Heh, I guess I deserved that.”

Even in times like this, he had to still be a bit humorous…You hated it.

“The faster we talk about this, the faster we resolve this.”

He gulped, “If I tell you, you would hate me.”

“I will hate you more if you don’t tell me.

“…As you wish.”

It was taking everything for you to not tear up from anxiety.

“I feel as if our paths are just too different.”

You knew it. You fucking knew it.

“Was I not good enough for you? Was I lousy in bed? Did I do something to piss you off?” You spoke in a panicked tone as you held his hands.

He gently squeezed your hands, “No, [name]. I just…I just don’t feel anything for you….not anymore”

You felt tears fall down your cheek before wiping it. It was like the world stopped hearing those words. Deep down, you wanted to beg him to take you back…But all you could do was just lightly punching his chest as you sobbed your feelings out.

“I hate you, I hate you so much.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sighed as you halted your light punches to his chest.

“So you don’t love me anymore…”

He gazed into your eyes with a gentle look, his voice had deepened, “Of course I love you, but just not the same way.”

You went silent as you decreased the pressure of your hands in his grasp, “You’re right…”

“We’re just on two different paths…”

You stroked his cheek with a smile, that same smile that was plastered on your face the moment you said your first I love you, the moment when you first stepped onto the Thousand Sunny’s. A smile that made him fall in love with you.

“I want to ask you...”

The room had become silent. Not even the ambience sound from the aquarium tanks could reach your ears. The sound of your heart pounding screaming in your ears as you coughed up your words.

“If the crew splits up permanently or if we move on…Hell, if we’re on the brink of death, old age or not,”

“Would I be the one on your mind?”

His eyes widened at your question. He felt as if his thoughts were running laps in his head.

He scoffed, “Of course, you were my first.”

You smiled, “Lemme ask you this again: Do you love me…like I love you?”

The knot in his stomach tightened as he contemplated his decision. No more kisses, no more dates, no more intimacy, no more i love you’s.

“Even if the sun refused to shine, I will love you forever and always.”

You wiped your wet tears and snot, “If the moon ever goes dark, I’ll love you back.”

You kissed his cheek before walking out the aquarium and headed to your cabin.

As he heard the door close, he couldn’t help but drop to his knees as tears fell onto the cold floor. For the first time, the swordsman felt vulnerable to his emotions and it was burning him deeply. He caressed the scar on his torso, before muttering curses to himself.

———

“Luffy, calm down! The food isn’t gonna run away, you know!” You snatched the plate from the hungry boy.

“Come on, [name]! It’s not my fault Sanji’s cooking is delicious!” He used his rubber powers to steal the plate from your hands and ran out the dining room with it.

You laughed at your captain’s actions when suddenly, you felt hands snake around your waist. As you turned around to see who was the culprit, you yelped as you felt soft lips touch yours.

“Ignore that idiot, my love. I’m surprised he doesn’t have diabetes yet.” He shot you a cheeky smile which caused your face to heat up.

“Sanji, I’m gonna dump you.”

“NOOOO MY SWEET [name]. I’LL GIVE YOU A THOUSAND KISSES IF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER,” He starts to cling onto your leg like a kid throwing a tantrum.

You laughed before kissing his cheek, “Oh don’t worry, baby, you can make it up tonight.” You wink at him jokingly.

Oh man, the mess you’re gonna have to clean up from the amount of blood he let out hearing that…

“Christ, how are ya’ll this loud at this hour,” the hungover swordsman yawned.

“It’s noon, mosshead,” sneered at him.

“Whatcha say, curly brow?!”

You facepalmed before slapping their faces to shut him up.

“This is getting old, guys,” you nodded your head in disapproval.

They both apologized before they went back to glaring at each other to which you gave up on.

———

As you finish cleaning up, you turn to face the green-haired swordsman, “Oh, and Zoro.”

He felt his heart stop for a moment before replying back to you, “Uh- yea?”

“Don’t drink too much, I don’t want you dying of alcohol suffering,” you jokingly giggled before taking the sake bottle from his hand.

He laughed before shooting you a smirk, “Trust, Il be fine.”

You smiled before the cook wrapped his arms around your shoulders, “Come, Mon Cherie, let’s get away from this evil ogre-”

“SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU CURLY BROW ASSHOLE-”

“Ooooookay this is our cue to leave,” you laugh awkwardly before pulling your blonde boyfriend out of the dining area.

Zoro felt his smile fade as he watched you look at your new boyfriend with loving eyes. The same eyes he would gaze upon when you both were still together.

He grabbed another bottle of sake from the cabinet before chugging it down like water. The thought and sight of you with another man, especially with one of his crew mates, was like getting stabbed with his own swords. Maybe those feelings didn’t go away like he said that night.

All he could do now was stare at the ceiling while swishing the alcoholic beverage in his hand. Maybe he shouldn’t have let you go like that he thought to himself.

Will I still be on your mind?

He chuckled to himself before finishing the remnants of the bottle, “Dumbass, if she’s moved on then…maybe it’s time I move on.”

Maybe there was another universe where we got married and had kids, maybe there was another time where I didn’t lose feelings for you.

Maybe there was another time where the sun did shine…

Maybe in another lifetime…

#fanfic #angst #roronoa zoro #one piece #zoro x reader #vinsmoke sanji #angst with a sad ending

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pascaloverx · 22 hours

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OUR SECRET — MYG

final chapter

Summary: You and Yoongi are having an affair. No, you are not being his lover. But the world is not ready to know that an idol is dating someone. So you two were doing your best to make sure no one found out. Until he breaks up with you. His mistake.

Author's note: It was a beautiful journey to write this fanfic. But unfortunately, it comes to an end in this chapter. I will miss all the readers of this fanfic, which was so precious to me. Thank you all, and until next time.

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Upon reflection, this philosophy could be right, but no one mentions that sometimes, just sometimes, life gives you lemons and you don't have the strength for anything else. It's been two months since your baby passed away. You're trying to move forward, but the path ahead seems so murky, as if there's nowhere to go. Since your daughter's passing, you and Yoongi have been trying to maintain a sense of peace, but it feels like a hollow peace. He works all day and only comes home late at night. You've returned to work as a book editor, doing some freelance work from home.

"How is this going to be?" You ask, with the laptop in your lap, as you stare at the corrections needed for the new book that some new author wants to publish at the publishing house where you work. Yoongi looks at you, bringing a plate of food that he's trying to learn to cook.

"What do you mean by that?" Yoongi speaks as he hands you a plate and takes another for himself. You look, trying to understand if he hasn't noticed that you've been treated like a child since your daughter died.

"I mean, husband, that I know you've been neglecting your concert schedule and what should have been your tour with the boys, because of me. It's noble of you, but you know that I can take care of myself, right?" You say, tasting the macaroni that Yoongi made. He's a good cook.

"Wife, I'm not just doing this for you. It's just that I didn't plan on working at this time. But believe me, I'm working on a new album." Yoongi says as he turns on the television to watch the sports channel. At least that's what you think he's watching.

"Even so, I may seem fragile, but I can be alone. I can even call you while you're away. I don't want you to neglect your life because of me. I'll be here when you come back, no matter where you're from." You say as you set your laptop on the table and sit close to him. You continue eating the macaroni he made. Eventually, both of you finish eating, and you decide to put some music on the television. He looks at you angrily for changing the channel from sports. Then you extend your hand to him, hoping he'll take it so you can dance. After some grumbling, he gets up and pulls you close by your waist.

"You know it's weird for us to dance like this, for no reason after dinner, right?" Yoongi asks, and you feel a bit awkward about saying that you're trying to be spontaneous. It's been a while since you and he have done anything cute together.

"Loving someone means doing senseless things with them, you know? And I think it's been a while since the last time we were romantically together. Our beginning was all secretive and full of passion. Then we had a dramatic breakup that resulted in a surprise pregnancy that left us both grieving for our daughter. We're married now, but I feel like we barely dated. Maybe now is the time for us to do cute, silly, and romantic things." You confide in Yoongi as you rest your head on his shoulder, and you both continue dancing slowly.

"I don't regret any of this, though. Our love story is confusing. Maybe even complicated. But at least I have you. And you have me. And I may not show it very well, but you are the most precious thing I have now. I love my fans, I love my group, but my love for you is greater than the success I have. I know it took a long time for me to say this to you, and I'm really sorry for not being the man you deserved, but I want to be now. Know that." Yoongi says, pulling his head back slightly, looking at you, and you immediately kiss him. A calm and peaceful kiss. Exactly how you want your love to be.

"You know… I could go on tour with you if you need me to. And I think in the future, we can consider expanding our love, but for now, it would be good to take some time to reconnect, you know." You say with your mouth still close to Yoongi's, who gives you a few pecks while seeming very lost in your lips to care much about what you're saying.

"I think this part of reconnecting is very important. Do you want to start now?" Yoongi says and kisses you. A deeper kiss, and extremely needy. Needy for you. You try to show that you feel so much I miss his kisses as much as he does. The truth is, you want Yoongi. You want to give a chance to a flame that has been extinguished for some time. Yoongi holds your face gently but firmly and intensifies the kiss. His hands roaming your body make you feel alive.

"Honey, I think we should take this reconnection to the bedroom, don't you think?" You speak as you move away from him a little and walk at a pace very slowly to your room. Your heart feels like it's going to escape through your mouth, because of your nervousness. But then Yoongi grabs your hand and spins you around.

"I love you." He says smiling slightly and kissing you. You know he loves you. And you feel the same way about him. You then pull him to bed and there you reconnect in the most beautiful way.

Your story continues to be a lesson for some time that not every love story happens in the same way. You loved each other and just when you were separating, you discovered that together you could be better. With Yoongi you faced grief. And with you, Yoongi matured. Fortunately, years later you adapted to married life and he was able to return to being a world-famous singer. You have a mature relationship filled with reconnections. Every year you go to the cemetery to take flowers for your daughter. It seems that sometimes finding a happy ending means going through many barriers. But you're trying to live your happily ever after with Yoongi.

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi #jungkook #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #taehyung #jung hoseok #park jimin #bts series #bts angst #yoongi angst #min yoongi angst #ex to lovers #spotify #Spotify

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101maverick · 1 day

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prompt request: preteen Dick and Jason are stuck babysitting little Tim.

a/n: i decided on some fluffy shenanigan with mild angst. Tim has just come to the manor, he’s 7, and 6 years younger than Dick instead of 9 (so Dick is 13). Jason is 11.

Word count: 1151 words

Babysitting hell

Bruce hated them.

That, according to Jason, was the only possible reason for why he had assigned him and Dick to a day-long torture.

“Jay, Dick, you are getting bigger and I trust you with this responsibility, plus it’s not something worth of disturbing Alfred’s vacation.” Is what Bruce had said to justify it.

Jason agreed with the fact that Alfred didn’t need to be disrupted from his rest by anything less than a death in the family of the ending of the world, but that didn’t in any way mean he agreed to being left with his brother to take care of the snot-nosed brat Bruce had brought home.

It’s not that Jason disliked the kid per-se, it’s that the kid actively didn’t want to be there. And that just meant he was gonna make this day a hell for Jason and Dick both.

And even more so for Jason himself than his brother! Because Jason was more than aware of his brother’s short fuse and knew how to not trigger it, but the new kid didn’t. And that meant Jason was gonna have to scramble to make sure his brother didn’t pop a blood vessel or strangle the kid, before the kid could do something stupidly reckless like trying to run away by jumping through the window or setting the kitchen on fire to gain enough of a head-start to steal the bat-mobile and run off. Or, anyways, whatever creepy seven-year-olds who stalked vigilantes on rooftops in the middle of the night usually do to get out of places they don’t wanna be.

And don’t get him wrong, Jason understands the feeling of being thrust in a new environment where you suddenly don’t have yourself only to rely on can be disorienting and unsettling, it happened to him too when he first got to the Manor.

But the thing is the kid isn’t happy with Batman wanting to take care of him, while simultaneously adoring him, acting as if he hung the frickin sun in the sky. It was that dichotomy Jason didn’t understand.

And he didn’t really care about understanding it anyways, since the more pressing matter at hand was finding the brat and making sure Bruce didn’t break his precious no-kill rule upon learning Jason had taken his eyes off of him for a few seconds too long.

As Dick searched the kitchen and foyer he headed for the library, head swishing from side to side while his eyes raked over the hallway.

Opening the door to the library he heard whispered cursing and the barely-there rustling of clothes. Bingo.

He fully entered the room and shut the door behind him before quickly darting around one of the bigger couches, snatching the kid by the collar of the jacket before he could run off.

“There you are!” He said, an exasperated huff in his voice as he hauled the kid up and steadied him on his feet, hands coming up to set them on his shoulders. “Kid, i understand you don’t really want to be here, but please make this as painless of an experience as possible for me and you both and try not to set Dick off. I know he seems very friendly and kind- and he is, almost painfully so- but you really don’t want to find out how easy it is to anger him. Trust me, i was there for his a good part of his grief-stricken rampage and it was not pretty.”

After he finished talking, the kid just stared at him, slightly bewildered and analysing eyes staring into his own determined and wide ones.

The semi-intense stare off was ended by the kid, an indignant inclination to his voice. “It’d be a lot easier if you just trusted me to take care of myself and let me go home! I’m not stupid!” Hi eyes had turned wide, a hint of fear barely visible through the angry and annoyed fire in them.

That gave Jason pause. Specifically, one little word.

“Trust?” He started, kinda bewildered. “Kiddo, you’re seven. It’s not so much about trust, as the simple fact that your house has not burnt down and you’re still in one piece proves you’re more than capable of being the perfect latchkey kid.” He explained, holding Tim’s gaze steadily with his to get the message across, “the thing is that you shouldn’t have to. Because, again, you’re seven. And I’m not stressing your age to imply you’re somehow stupid, but because seven year olds like yourself should be able to be stress-free and not worry about managing every single bit of their life and house-keeping.”

“Then,” Tim started, unsureness creeping into his big eyes, “…then, how am I supposed to show that I’m good enough?”

Jason’s eyes became comically wide at that, he was sure he looked like a cartoon character. “Good enough for what exactly, kid?”

“Good enough to be here! With Batman and Robin! Both Robins! Good enough to see all the cool gadgets and the cases and the mementos and trophies! How do I show I’m capable of being around all of that and not break anything or tell stuff I’m not supposed to tell, if I can’t take care of myself? There’s not much more responsible than that, and I want to show I’m responsible enough for all of this!” By the end of his tirade Tim was slightly panting, hands still in midair from his animated gesticulating.

And with this explanation it all clicked for Jason, he finally understood why the kid was so against being taken care of by Bruce. He explained the misunderstanding away. “Kid, Bruce doesn’t want to care for you because he thinks you’re not responsible enough. In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s kinda got a thing for strays. Think of it more as you taking care of him, ‘cause trust me when I say that if he knew you were alone in your big, empty manor he’d have an aneurysm or like, pop a blood vessel or somethin’.” There, simple as that. Laid bare on the table in words honest enough they would hopefully get through to an overly-independent and angry seven year old.

“Oh.” Tim said. “I guess i never thought about it like that.” A beat of silence, then, “I guess it makes sense. I can make do with that.”

Jason felt his shoulders sag in relief, just in time for Dick to come bounding through the door, no doubt having listened to at least the last of their conversation.

“There you are!” He started, bright show smile lighting up his face. “Now that we’re all together, who wants to play Cluedo?”

And as they settled on the couch and he took his first turn as Ms. Scarlett, Jason thought that maybe Bruce didn’t really hate them, and that babysitting the brat wouldn’t be that much of a torture after all.

#jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #kid tim drake #kid jason todd #kid dick grayson #jason todd and bruce wayne #jason todd and tim drake #jason todd and dick grayson #dick grayson and tim drake #brotherly bonding #shenanigans #fluff #fluff and angst #but it’s mild #no pushover timmy drake in this household #maverick’s prompt fill

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jamiedc-they-them · 2 days

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Good People Part IV: Safety in Numbers (Platonic)

Summary: A new friend joins you on your travel for this infamous head. A vault gives you a moment of safety. But, like always, the world comes crashing down around you. But this time, it's not just you that it collapses for.

Episodes 5/6/7.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

"Should we wake them up?" Maximus, the Knight you had saved - and the one who had saved Lucy - asks as he sees you slumped against a pillar, eyes shut. It hasn't been too long since he had gotten out and saved your friend, and yet you found yourself drifting off.

Lucy looks back to you, You look peaceful. For once, you don't look at war with yourself.

There's a feeling she has inside. For a moment, it reminds her of how she is with her brother - loving, protective; but most of all, accepting.

"I think a few more minutes won't hurt them. I think they need it. Haven't really seen them rest yet."

Maximus nods. He knows he needs the head and all, but he can also understand Lucy's reasoning. This place isn't kind to anyone, and having your guard down isn't the greatest thing. But, you do seem to need it at this moment. That, and you did save him, so.

Lucy gets him to agree to have you both accompany him to find the head. 'Safety in numbers' she says. He can't exactly argue with that; after all, without you two, he'd still be in the suit - or dead.

Maximus packs up his things. Lucy gets up and approaches you, crouching down in front of you. She lightly taps you on the arm.

"Y/N. Y/N, wake up," she says, keeping her voice soft. She keeps her taps quick, respecting the boundary with touch.

You jolt, then seem to calm down as you open your eyes. The first thing you do, she clocks, is check the area around you both.

She smiles, "made good on my promise," she teases, "no urination for you, my friend."

Friend. It feels nice to say it now and know it goes both ways. You're friends. Maybe Maximus can be one, too. Still, one step at the time.

You snort, eyes softening as you look to her, "that you did," you say, standing up - she mirrors you - as you then stretch a bit, "thank you."

"I should really be the one thanking you," she says, "it's you who got me the help."

You shrug off the thanks - still not there with that, it seems; ok, she can work with that - and roll your shoulders, "was all the Knight. I just got him out of the suit."

She wants to argue in your honour, but doesn't. Like said before, she can work with this. Baby steps.

"We're gonna be travelling with him," she says to you, "he needs the head too. So, I figured, someone else looking out for us can't hurt, right?"

You don't seem too sure at first, then nod.

You all go on your way, Lucy asking about what had happened in the last 200 years, as if either of you can summarise that.

"People in charge did what they always do," you say, "they chose power over lives."

"Sounds a bit like a red to me," Maximus says.

You shrug once again, "maybe. Still, ain't exactly patriots out here to shoot me for it."

Lucy looks at you concerned, Maximus shakes his head. You're an odd one, but you're honest. So, he respects that.

You come to a bridge, with two people on the other side. Lucy tries to calm the situation down. You and Maximus, seemingly reading each other, get ready. You stand in front, no weapons, but you'll go down first and give him time to draw.

It works, and part of you believes that it just might work, too. But, the inevitable happens; the fiends see the pipboy on Lucy's arm, and they draw. Your instinct was correct; Maximus draws Lucy's weapon, and gets a shot off. A shot hits his arm, you move Lucy back, just to be safe - it all happens quick, but you still manage too - and he then fires the second round off.

"I hate it up here," Lucy laments.

"Don't we all," you say, looking to Maximus, "your arm ok?"

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Lucy protests, "you've been shot!"

"I'll be fine," he says, "let's just keep going."

Lucy looks to you. You sigh, nodding at your friend, before looking to the Knight:

"Look," you say, "we'll keep going," you put a finger up to stop Lucy before she says anything and continue, "but, we'll also keep a look out for a stimpack, or something for that wound, ok?"

Maximus nods, going with the diplomatic solution.

"See?" you say, "not so bad for a red, huh?" Maximus snorts at your tease. He shakes his head. Sure, he'd probably disagree with a lot of your views on things, but you're good as a person - hell, you gave him the space he needed for that interaction. He decides then and there to trust you.

The three of you continue. You reach Shady Sands, and Maximus tells you about how he was from here. He was a survivor, and how the Brotherhood gave him a purpose.

You might fully like the Brotherhood - at least in what you've seen; a company like that with brutality will always go wrong in your eyes - but Maximus is a good man, even if tortured.

You look from the massive hole, to Lucy. To your friend who gave you a purpose - at least for a little bit. You gulp.

You were bad luck. Hell, you even hit your head when Lucy first said 'hello' to you. You're a magnet for trouble. Yet, she stuck with you. Fought for you in your honour. She stuck by you when others would've left.

You find what you think is a hospital. Lucy enters, you follow, then Maximus does.

You split up, trying to find what you can.

You find some caps. Maybe your luck really is turning.

You hear a scream. Lucy's scream. You run out, back into the lobby area, and barge through a door...only to find that apparent adjoining one is fake.

You feel the floor give out from under you...

You wake up in a startle. For once, no dreams haunting you.

"Good, you're up," you hear a voice say. You turn, alert. It's a woman. She holds up her hands, "look, I understand the concern," she says, "but, we're not a threat. We're not a threat. We have your other friends. They asked about you."

So, they're alive, you know that at least.

"You're Y/N, right?" the woman asks. You nod, now noticing the blue jumpsuit...there's no way, "I'm Birdie," she says to you.

You approach the window, and look out at everything. It's all so clean and...nice. Everyone smiles.

You look back to Birdie, who seems to be waiting for you to ask, "are we -- I mean...is - is this a -"

"A Vault?" she asks, smile on her face - seems your instinct was right, "it is," she confirms, nodding as well.

You nod, taking it all in.

"Now," Birdie says, we kept you in there to make sure you weren't radiated or anything. But, all seems clear. You're free to see your friends. We'll get some food in you, then show you to your room."

"My room?"

She nods again, "welcome to Vault 4."

You are let out, and look over the railing at the place. It's like a community all onto itself.

Lucy spots you, and instantly beams, calling out your name and giving a wave. You wave back, before making your way down to join them.

Lucy gets up, and gives you a hug. You stumble a bit, but soon find yourself being ok with it.

"I'm glad you're ok," Lucy says.

You tap her on the back, and she pulls away - seemingly understanding your code language for 'too much'. She nods, "come eat."

You sit down, Maximus and you sharing a nod. Birdie, and then Ben - the overseer, come over and introduce themselves. You cant help, though, but notice Ben's one massive eye. No one else seems to bat on eye. And, hell, you've seen your fair share of mutations out in the Wasteland - as Maximus says, it happens. But, Lucy seems more disturbed.

You, however, let yourself feel a positive emotion for once - it doesn't feel natural to you - and it's a feeling of safety.

"Lucy," you say, "we're in a vault, that's gotta be something, right?"

"I - I want it to be," Lucy says, "but...Y/N, my Vault fell. I don't want - I don't want it to happen anywhere else."

"That's fair," you say, voice soft and distant; you both have your trauma's, and both have similar reactions with it - wanting to do all you can for it to not occur again.

Yours was isolation, her's seems to be more vigilance.

Still, she softens as you look around in awe at the place. Maximus clears his plate, before looking to you.

"Hey," he calls out. You look to him, "after we finish, did you wanna go see our rooms? I think they should be near each other?"

You look to your plate - at the actual full meal in front of you that you've barely touched. It feels wrong, eating this amount of food, but you've been given it. They have given it to you. And it would be rude to not take them up on this.

You look to Maximus, your new friend, and nod. He smiles, bright. You do too.

Lucy looks between you both. She's still unsure, something in the back of her mind telling her that something isn't right; but, she then sees you both and your eagerness for this place. To her, it felt like a homecoming; to you, it was a new world with a whole new set of rules to understand - and, god, the eager look you both had; the conversations you both have as you finish your own food. She doesn't interrupt you, she just lets you both talk, and that, that is what makes her feel that humanity may just make it through this to the other side; connections. Friendship.

She turns down the offer to go up with you both, saying that she'll catch up, but wishes you both the best. Her smile is honest, but you don't see the way it struggles to stay up right. She wants to best for you, she does really, but that voice in the back of her head won't leave you alone. It seems that, here anyway, it's not there for you - but instead now for her - and so she'll follow it.

You're her friends. She has to look out for you both.

Maximus is right, your rooms are next to each other. Everyone is so nice here. They smile and wave. They say 'hello' and pass you by and leave you be. No one tries to take things from you. No one has an ulterior motive. Everyone is just kind.

That, and no one pisses on you, so that's a win in your book.

Maximus give you a nod and a 'see you later' before entering his own room. Your door opens. You flinch at the hiss it makes, but Ben just assures you that it's ok.

You enter, and it shuts behind you. Ben explains how to reopen the door. He even demonstrates it for you, before leaving you to get acquainted with it.

It's bright. Colourful and expressive. There's no dirt on anything. There are clothes left out for you. Even a kind of gown. You take off your clothes, and enter the bathroom. You see a shower, you turn it on. It works. There is a heat that hits you. It's comforting. You put yourself fully under it, letting it wash over you fully, before you start using some soap to clean yourself. It smells nice. You could get used to this.

You get out of the shower, getting changed into your new clothes. You feel something on your cheek. You put a hand to it and wipe. Puling away, you see a tear.

More come after that. A mix of happy and sad emotions all hitting you at once. You've never let yourself feel. You've never been able to. But, here you are, letting yourself have a moment. To process fully all that you've been through. All you've lost, and what you've gained in such a short amount of time.

You hear a knock on your door. You open it, it's Lucy. She looks concerned, out of breathe. Just a mix of things.

She enters, shutting the door behind you.

"Y/N, I - I think..." she pauses whatever she was about to say, seeing your state, "what happened?" she asks.

"I, uh," you say, "I don't know," you wipe some stray tears, "just - just something dumb. Nevermind -"

"It's not dumb," she assures. She has so much suspicion for this place, and yet her first concern is you.

There's a beat of silence. She waits. Despite the anxious thoughts on her findings. She waits.

"It's just..." you look to the floor for a second, before back up to her, "it's a lot," you confess, "all of this. I smell good, Luce. I don't -" you shut your eyes, seeing the memories you are used to seeing, "this is a good thing. A nice place. Nice people."

She nods, wanting for you to go on, "and I don't - I don't know how to feel about it."

She turns her head to the side, watching as you struggle with your words - so, she says a few of her own, "you deserve good things, Y/N."

You scoff, looking back up at her with your arms folded and back hunched, "maybe," you say, not fully believing it, "but...least I'll have you, right?" your walls are down fully. Emotions on your sleeve. Assurance, that's all you want.

"Always," and she gives it. It's instant, too, tone serious. Your lip wobbles.

"Even after we find your dad?"

She nods, eyes firm, "I'll do whatever I need to, to get you guys a spot in my vault. You'll be safe there. I promise."

A few more tears slip, and you nod. You let yourself have this. Something good. Something to hope for.

Then --

"'Your vault'?"

She nods, hating to have to crush your hope a bit, "there's something wrong here, Y/N. They're - They're talking about Shady Sands. They celebrate Moldaver!" she says to you in a whisper yell.

Your eyes widen.

"Look," she says, putting hands on your arms, "I will fix this. I won't leave you behind. But, you deserve something good, Y/N, and I mean that. Even for a little bit longer."

You look at her, eyes shinning with new tears - one of worry for her.

"I will be fine," she promises, "I know Vaults. I did engineering there. That, and I can take care of myself."

You never doubted that, but still, "but, safety in numbers."

She nods, "I know. But, like I said, I know vaults. I know where to go and how to get there. Before this all comes crashing down, you deserve some piece of mind. Just, keep an eye on Maximus, ok?"

You nod. You can do that.

"Be safe," is all you ask her.

She nods, giving your arms a squeeze, "always am."

"One hundo percento?"

She smiles. There she is, "one hundo percento."

"Okey Dokey."

Her smiles softens, "Okey dokey."

With that, she's gone. Determined now more than ever.

She knew her feelings for Maximus, the word for them. An attraction. But you, it was a deep platonic love. A similar one to Norm.

If this was before everything she'd seen, she'd name it gladly. Fami-

But, she wasn't that person. She was still Lucy Maclean to her core, but something had shifted in her. Something broke. She'd always help if needed, but there was an edge now. A voice in the back of her head that told her that all was not well. It did with her father and Moldaver. She hated it, the doubts it plagued her with. She kept walking, though.

So, when it came to your friendship, she refused to use the familial term. Just in case.

It does go wrong. But, not entirely as she expected it to. These people were victims, who killed their oppressors.

She'd read stories of people like this. She idolised them. And yet, now, she was the one doing the oppressing. The one doing the judging.

She knew her sin. She understood it, clear as day. Still, you both had done nothing wrong. Nothing at all. You'd both just lived above ground with shit luck to life.

So, despite having like no leverage, all she asks is simple.

"Can my friends stay?"

And, to her surprise - once the initial shock of them not killing her, and even giving her supplies for above - they say yes.

She's glad. She's done that right at least --

BOOM! BOOM! BANG! The sounds of Maximus in the armour reverberate off the walls, before a gunshot goes off from a rifle. You're both here. 'Saving' her.

"No, no, no, no, no!" She calls out to you both. But you're too caught up. Too caught up in trying to save your friend, that you don't even notice said friend trying to stop you.

You don't get far, but there is still some damage done. You may have smashed a window to get to the weapon. And Maximus may of stolen the fusion core for the armour.

"Guys!" Lucy calls out. It works on getting your attentions, "I'm ok!" she assures you, "look! look!" she gestures to herself, "no injuries! They were even giving me stuff. Look!" she says, grabbing an item that was inside the crate they have, "they aren't the bad guys. They're the victims!"

It really takes the winds out of your sails. You and Maximus both look to each other, before you both in sync say a single thing:

"Sorry."

With no arguments from any of you, you are banned from the Vault. Lucy looks to you and Maximus; him with the core, yourself with the weapon. Finally a -

"We need to give them back," Lucy says. You both look at her like she's mental.

"I mean it," she says, "we're not bad people. We don't just steal. Especially not after something like that."

"We tried our best," you say, folding your arms like a child being reprimanded.

Lucy rolls her eyes, "I know, and I thank you for your courage in your actions," she says, "but, the circumstances did not require them. They're good people. They need all the help they can get. Plus," she says, bringing out her pistol, "I have this."

You whine, leaning back and shutting your eyes, "but I want a weapon!!"

Lucy rolls her eyes again, "You can still fight, Y/N. You don't need a gun for that. We have each other, and our wits. And," she says, looking between you both, "once we're done, you won't need a weapon again. We'll be safe in the Vault. Trust me."

You and Maximus look to each other. You both sigh, then nod. He takes out the core; you open the door for him and you both deposit your items. You hear a 'thank you!' from below.

"There," she says, "how'd you feel?"

"Vulnerable," you say, gaining a third eye-roll.

"That's not a bad thing," she says.

"I don't mean the emotional kind."

She shrugs, "I know. But, we'll be ok. We have each other, and soon we will have the head. Then we'll be free."

Maximus looks to you. You just gesture for him to go ahead of you. He does, after giving you a pat on the shoulder.

You sigh, taking your own leave. Lucy watches you both leave. She nods, taking a steady breath.

"Okey Dokey," she says, before following after you.

You've done a good thing, she's happy that it's gone well. That, for once, an interaction out here has gone well and ended happily for everyone.

She just hates that voice in the back of her head. That doubt. That fear. That hesitation.

You're her friend. Her best friend, she'd wager. Someone she'd burn down a vault for - hell, she almost did - but there was also that voice in the back of her head. One that said to watch out. To not get fully attached.

There was a dark cloud in her mind. One she didn't quite know how to get rid of.

But, she knew one thing.

You had her, and she had you.

All the way, no matter what.

#lucy maclean x reader #lucy maclean #lucy fallout #lucy maclean imagine #lucy maclean fallout #maximus x you #maximus imagine #maximus x reader #maximus fallout #fallout x you #fallout x reader #fallout imagine #fallout #lucy maclean x you

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icanbeyourgenie · 3 months

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“ Oh, I'm just... I'm just used to it... I wasn't allow to eat with my siblings, always with my father and his council, so I suppose it became an habit... plus I doubt Nate and Cally would want me to eat with them anyway. ” – Malachai to Yasmeen after she asked why he was eating alone when Nathaniel and Calypso were eating together

Yasmeen had been surprised when she walked into the church to see Malachai there. Not because he didn't belong there - she spent more time in that place with him than alone, lately - but because, when he left after their training session, she assumed it was to go eat with his siblings. So it was even more surprising to see a bit of food packed in the bench next to him. When she asked him why he wasn't eating with the others, she didn't except this answer. She thought this through for a moment, and then decided to sit down.

❝Why wouldn't they want you to eat with them? They practically worship you.❞

❝I can be too serious for them, sometimes. A bit of a mood breaker.❞

Yasmeen didn't think he was a mood breaker. She actually always felt better when she was with him. But she understood what he meant. Calypso and Nathaniel had a very care-free nature. They liked to laugh and make jokes and talk a lot. Malachai wasn't like that. Still, Yasmeen didn't think the two youngest would mind Malachai's presence. But she kept it to herself, judging it wasn't her place to talk for them.

❝Why weren't you allowed to eat with them?❞

He looked away and stayed silent. She didn't push. Privacy was important to her. If he wanted to keep that part for himself, she would accept that.

Instead, he unpacked his food and gave her a fork. She did pause on the fact that he had two forks ready, but blamed it on royal customs and their habit to use way more cutlery than necessary (a side effect of not doing the dishes, she supposed).

She shook her head. ❝Thank you, but I can't eat with you. I can only eat the food from the changeling quarters.❞

❝Why? Because you shouldn't eat luxurious food? It's stupid.❞

❝No, because this food isn't made for humans.❞

He paused a second. ❝Is it true what they say then? That it binds you to the land?❞

❝Not exactly. But it can drive you mad. Making you see whatever they want you to see, and trap you forever. It's different for everyone.❞

❝Better not try your luck then.❞

❝I did.❞

She realized, when she said this, that she had been unfair with Malachai. He had confied in her many times before, but she didn't. Not truly. She was overly cautious and wary, and even when she started warming up to him, she tried not to say too much about her past. He had asked, but she always diverted the questions, so he stopped asking. She loved that clear respect of her privacy. But he was still curious, she could see it in his eyes right now. And somehow, she felt like giving him a part of herself.

❝I was young. Well, kind of. I tried to join the human world, but I was stuck in the enchanted forest and it was a true disorienting maze. I was starving, and I ate a few berries. Worst mistake of my life. My mind wasn't my own anymore. I almost died.❞

❝And what happened.❞

❝I got help.❞ It was the most she could say. Thinking about Viserys and the asylum still hurt.

❝And yet you're still here?❞ And it was probably the part that hurt the most. Nothing mattered in the end. She didn't escape that place.

❝You could come with me.❞ He had a bit of hope in his eyes but his words were unsure. ❝I could claim you, ask for you to be given to me as a gift. You'd come with me under the sea. For a time, just enough so it can be believable. Then I'll set you free.❞

Those words hurt more than she could imagine. This time, she looked away. ❝Don't be ridiculous. Who would look after Calypso?❞ She tried for light-hearted, but she did sound gloomy.

He took her hand. ❝Yasmeen I'm serious. Let me help. I could get you out of here.❞

❝You can't...❞ She squeezed his hand and looked at him. ❝Morgana would never allow you to take me away from her.❞

❝Why?❞ He still looked so hopeful, and it broke her heart. ❝You're a changeling. I mean - I - I mean that... to her... it's just what you are, but-❞

❝Because it'd be too dangerous for her.❞ She cut. She knew what he meant. But it wasn't the problem. She took a breath, readying herself for what she was about to say. ❝Because I'm a valuable asset to her. And because I know too much of her secrets.❞

Malachai stayed still as he processed her words, then his expression changed from hopeful to impassible. She couldn't read him as he withdrawed his hand and sat up straighter. He looked away and she wanted to scream. At the world, at herself for allowing someone to get close to her. For saying those words. But she stayed silent, watching him connect the dots. He was the one who understood, from their very first meeting, that she was a warrior, that she had too much knives hidden on her and that it made sense that she was sent as a guard, as well as a maid. But now, she was basically admitting to be a spy for Morgana.

It looked like an eternity passed when he spoke again, with a placid but distant voice. ❝Yasmeen, are we enemies?❞

She assumed it was his princely voice. The one he used to talk to his generals. He had never use it with here. She took another deep breath. ❝I hope not.❞

❝But she asks you about me. About my family.❞

It wasn't a question, but she still answered: ❝Yes.❞

❝And I should trust you?❞

❝I can't answer that. Trust isn't something that can't be asked for. It has to be given freely.❞

❝...Yasmeen my entire country relies on me.❞

❝I know what's at stake for you.❞

He stayed silent again, watching in the distance while she was watching him. She wanted to stop trying to analyze his very unexpressive face, but she couldn't. She was stuck.

❝You kissed me. Does she know about that?❞

❝No. She thinks we had sex, though. Many times.❞

❝Mh. And that kiss, was it all part of a game?❞

❝Well, first of all, you asked for that kiss.❞ Yasmeen were almost offended, but his question was legitimate. ❝Also, no it wasn't. It was...❞ She was almost embarassed, but she owed him the truth. ❝It was my first kiss. Well, not truly. But the first I wanted too, so I think of it this way. I wouldn't have shared this with her.❞

She tought he blushed for a second, but she couldn't be sure. He still looked so stoic. ❝How can I be sure you're telling the truth?❞

❝You can't.❞

She truly wished she could say something different, but she couldn't. He stayed silent and she did too. The silence stretched for at least a dozen minutes. Not a single sound in the church outside of their quiet breathes. Yasmeen turned away at some point, looking at the status of Farore. Even the goddess couldn't appease her right now. The girl thought about leaving, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

It was almost twenty minutes later that Malachai spoke again. ❝My father and my mother made a pact when I was very young. I had a twin sister, but she was rumored to be a bastard. My father wanted to get rid of her. My mother protested. In return for keeping her, she had to allow my father to raise me as he saw fit. She couldn't intervene too much. And his idea of raising his first born was to make me actively participate in councils and meals with his general from a very early age. That's why I wasn't allowed to eat with my siblings.❞

Yasmeen tried not to show how deeply this admission touched her. In simply opening up again and answering her previous question, he stated without saying it that he chose to trust her, nonetheless. And, like always, she kept this information like a treasure. ❝That's... Well, that must have been very lonely.❞

❝What?❞

❝It was. And in the end, it didn't even matter. My sister was exiled anyway.❞ She could understand the feeling. They stayed silent, until he surprised her with his next words. ❝It was a peck.❞

❝That kiss. You said it was like your first kiss, but it was just a peck.❞ Yasmeen raised an eyebrow, a bit offended, and Malachai realized what he just said. ❝I mean- I, not that it wasn't, you know - good or anything. Just that - that - that if it was your first kiss, maybe it should've been better, and - and.❞

She smiled then, amused by the way he changed the subject, intrigued to know that this was in his mind somehow. He didn't only think about how she was a potential traitor, but also how her first kiss should've been better.

For once, she allowed herself to not think when she grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards her, until their lips almost touched. She stopped just a second, just to make sure he agreed to it. So when he nodded, she closed the gap between them and kissed him.

It wasn't a light kiss, not at all. It started this way, but she deepened it as much as she could, and he eagerly followed her. They both smiled into the kiss, and she wondered if she ever knew a better feeling. They only stopped kissing when they were both out of breath, but they didn't break apart. He put his forehead on hers, and she didn't move.

❝Is this kiss up to his Higness expectations?❞ she teased.

He laughed. ❝Yes it is. Although some might argue that kissing in a church is a sin.❞

❝Well then. Maybe we should spend more time in here to repent, don't you think?❞ She was flirty. She had never been flirty in her entire life.

❝I think we have no other choice, sadly.❞

They were still smiling as they broke apart, the food completely forgotten. But Malachai looked serious again when he asked: ❝Am I a fool to trust you?❞

❝I don't know.❞ She didn't want to lie to him. ❝But I truly hope not.❞

#i didn't planned it to be this long #but this scene didn't want to leave my mind #i so wanted to write how yas would tell him about morgana #and how they both understand how it's like to have the world on their shoulder #and not being able to make any promises #cause they're not in charge of their own lives #and them not being used to show feelings and being a bit awkward #also i wanted to write a second kiss idc #and yeah a kiss in a church #fight me #yasmeen #yasmeen x malachai #yasmeen writing prompt #writing prompt #likeafairytale

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nonasuch · 3 months

Text

IT IS TIME: Miss Universe National Costume 2023

it's here! the Met Gala for people who actually understand what camp is!

yes I'm like 3 months late, but I sat down and watched the damn thing. I put up with the horrible little rhyming couplets for each contestant so you don't have to. and without further ado:

Albania: Starting off very Victoria’s Secret this year! Apparently it’s gold for important symbolism reasons, not just because everything in this competition is blinged out to within an inch of its life. The wings do look nice in motion!

Angola has a good balance of bling, actual cultural dress, and oh hey it has surprise bonus art on the back! That will be a theme this year.

Argentina: Why is there a guy in a hat right down at the bottom edge of her cape. He looks like he’s staring at her butt. How does this represent their flag.

Aruba: This is fine. I like the coral. She thinks climate change is bad. Her parrot is clearly way too heavy to hold up and it wobbles like crazy in motion.

Australia: This is now multiple years in a row that Australia has just worn a fucking prom dress. It’s got native wildflowers on. You could have made this exact same dress with a Great Barrier Reef theme and I would have liked it 80% more.

Bahamas: This costume is allegedly based on a 19th-century doll from the Bahamas “world famous straw market,” which is already bullshit; I googled “bahamas straw market antique doll” and like. they both have big skirts? I guess? Anyway now I’m too distracted by the way she has a hoop skirt awkwardly jammed under there and hiked up on one side. Minus ten for poor construction.

Bahrain's theme is “Bahrain’s pearl heritage,” which like. I guess? The headdress and yoke are pretty. Put more pearls on the actual outfit. Kudos for getting to wear pants.

Belgium: Girl. No. Why is your theme “Latin dance” and why are you wearing a spangly cocktail dress with a totally unrelated piece of fabric fluttering behind it? (Apparently the fabric was designed by a member of Belgium’s royal family? Who is a fashion designer? This is what nepotism gets you.)

Bolivia saw Aruba’s parrot and was like, I can do that better. And she was right! It’s way less wobbly and the costume as a whole does work better. Also made from recycled materials, so we’ll see if that’s a theme again this year. The back of the cape is nice too.

Sadly, Bolivia's parrot supremacy was short-lived, because Brazil was like, bitch please. I see your sad little parrots and raise you FOUR giant parrots, and also the shoulder parrots are articulated and can turn their heads back and forth. I think Brazil wins the parrot competition that only she knew she was in.

#miss universe national costume

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tender-rosiey · 9 months

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1am thoughts, thinking about Gojo introducing kid Megumi to his newborn baby and Megumi being protective of them and even calling them his little sister/brother at one point and gojo is running LAPS he's just overwhelmed and happy over a small yet powerful phrase.

to protect — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this is so cute i am gonna cry also megumi is like 11-12 here

you’re finally back home, after a long day at the hospital. you’re finally engulfed in the comfort of your bed while your husband is still sat up with his little girl bundled in his arms.

he hasn’t let go of her since you have been discharged.

“’toru, honey, you have to sleep soon; you can hold her tomorrow,” you sleepily murmur to your husband.

he nods and whispers, “I know. It’s just I—I can’t believe it’s real,” he kisses her forehead softly, “that she is finally here, our little princess.”

a tired smile makes its way to your lips. you hum in understanding, gently caressing his cheek. he sighs happily, before looking at you, “but you, missy, actually need to rest. you’ve had a long day.”

you frown and he chuckles, and his hand moves to stroke your hair, “rest, pretty. you were a champion today,” you move to nuzzle closer to his side and your arm wraps around his torso.

and so his little girl is comfortably nestled in one of his arms, while the other is wrapped around you so his hand can pet your head lovingly.

satoru truly feels like he is holding the world in his hands right now.

suddenly, the door slowly creaks open and a very familiar face peaks from it. satoru chuckles, “come in, megumi; they’re both asleep anyway.”

the boy carefully pads his way to gojo.

he is so used to seeing him being all goofy and unserious, so it catches him a bit off-guard how serene and quiet he is being right now. megumi looks at the sleeping baby then whispers, “what’s her name?”

“d/n,” satoru answers fondly.

megumi nods then observes her for a small while, “she really is a perfect mix between the both of you.”

a soft and quiet laugh escapes satoru’s lips, “you’re right,” he looks up at megumi with a grin, “you wanna hold her?”

the boy is taken back and his expression betrays him as nervousness takes over his face. his eyes don’t leave the girl and his gaze is more than troubled, “…what if I hurt her?”

satoru shakes his head, “you scared? she is my daughter; she is the strongest baby ever,” he grins, “no one can hurt her.”

megumi rolls his eyes, but quickly directs his focus to the little girl. he takes a moment, before he extends his arms. satoru gently places her in his arms. megumi’s hold on her is protective, and he doesn’t look as awkward as satoru thought he would.

actually, he is quite the natural.

he gently rocks her, and he can’t help but smile at her sleeping face. megumi whispers to her, “hi there.”

she coos at him, and starts swaying his arms around. she slowly opens her eyes, and a tiny smile appears on her chubby face. megumi’s eyes widen a little, and he immediately looks at gojo, “she is smiling.”

satoru laughs, “she is a very smiley baby, but i think she likes you a lot. she only smiled at y/n and me,” he feels you stir a bit in your sleep.

he pulls you closer and rubs your shoulder then he giggles at how quickly you fall back asleep. while satoru is occupied by you, megumi is staring in awe at little miss gojo.

later, satoru wakes up in the middle of the night to check on his little girl in the adjacent room. he groggily gets up, after kissing your forehead. he walks there, and when he finally reaches the room, he notices the lights are already on, and the door is left a bit open.

he peaks a little into the room, and sees megumi standing by the crib. he is fondly looking at d/n, and gently petting her head. he is whispering something to her, but satoru is still able to hear it all the same.

“don’t grow up to be annoying like your dad, please.”

satoru scowls, and contemplates bursting into the room, and bullying the hell out of megumi. however, he ultimately decides against it. he doesn’t end up regretting the decision.

megumi gently boops her nose, “you’re like a little sister to me now, so I promise to protect you.”

she squeals and makes grabby hands at him, and he chuckles, “you believe me, huh?”

satoru slowly backs away from the door and walks away. when he is a safe distance from the door, he starts running and bursts into your shared room.

he dramatically falls to the ground, “that was… the cutest thing ever! after d/n and y/n’s smiles, of course.”

he stands up, proudly. his heart is at ease as he now knows that there is yet another person to look after his baby girl, if something happens. a content grin is on his face as he enjoys the silence and comfort. it’s short lived, as always.

a pillow is thrown at his face, and he stumbles to the ground.

“that’s for waking me up, satoru!”

“noooo, baby, I am sorry!”

“uh—,” megumi awkwardly stands at the door, holding d/n up, “guys, she pooped.”

satoru grins, and excitedly stands up—with a camera that he got out of nowhere to take photos of her—he coos, “aww! your first shit, pretty girl? what a good girl!”

megumi places her on the changing table beside your bed. the smell of her great ‘achievement’ fills the door, and he takes the chance of gojo being distracted to run out of the room, before another nuclear explosion drops.

the girl is gleefully clapping upon seeing her dad, and he reciprocates the smile tenfold. he gently holds her feet and sways them slightly, “such a big girl, already pooping!”

“want daddy to change your diapers for you?” he coos and the girl just puts her thumb in her mouth and starts kicking her feet. he chuckles and slowly opens the diaper. he is met with the vilest smell, and he can’t believe his sweet daughter can produce such smells.

however, he quickly composes himself, and tries to make his way through the travail of changing the diaper. he proves to be too weak because he, after a moment, looks at you, “uh, babe, teamwork makes the dream work?”

you groan, falling back to the bed.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo x y/n #jjk gojo x you #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jjk fluff #satoru x reader

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helluvapoison · 3 months

Text

Possessive

how the overlords would put a claim on you

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Carmilla Carmine ⁎⁺˳✧༚

As much as she loves spending her mornings in bed with you, wishfully thinking she could stay there all day, she can only give you 3 more minutes at best. Being an Overlord and a CEO keeps her rather busy. You’re grown, you can handle yourself (you have to in this world) she’s not keeping tabs on your whereabouts. Carmilla isn’t itching for a fight like these new “up and comers”. Giving you something to protect you when she’s not around simultaneously puts a target on your back. A simple ring with her name inscribed would suffice, satisfying any possessive vices she may or may not have

˚✧₊⁎ Zestial ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Abhorrent is jealousy, driving the younger generations to filth like, ugh, hickeys. Although, on a certain level he does understand. Being in Hell for as long as he has and alone the same amount, he knows all too well the primal need to claim what other’s might steal. One must leave their mark as a warning sign for others. Zestial’s exceptionally charming when he wants something, notably not asking when he presents you with the crisply wrapped gifts. There’s no less than twenty. Boxes upon boxes of accessories and clothes that suit you but hold his color palette, spider and web details to boot. He’s utterly thrilled when you wear them, showering you in compliments and declaring himself the luckiest soul in Hell

˚✧₊⁎ Rosie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Goodness, have you seen how sinners nowadays go about the whole ordeal? What happened to romance!? Call her old fashioned, but Rosie likes a smidge of glamour in her techniques! She’ll walk shoulder to shoulder with you, holding her parasail over the both of you. She’ll accidentally press her painted lips on your cheek and forget, quickly getting swept up into conversation with someone or the other. It’s fine, no one would question her! Not if they wanted to live anyways. Butterflies swarm her stomach when she notices you haven’t wiped her imprint away, a proud smile spreading across her face. It becomes purposeful as the days go on

˚✧₊⁎ Alastor ⁎⁺˳✧༚

While happy to broadcast newsworthy exploits, sharing his private affairs with the world is out of the question. Of course the appeal of it all isn’t lost on him, he merely doesn’t see the point. Why broaden your horizons of potential dangers by claiming you publicly? To calm that unruly, covetous alien in the pit of his chest? He’s not that selfish! Besides, nothing less than something permanent could truly satisfy him anyhow

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

If he doesn’t have eyes on you, he’s working. Those measley hours apart won’t stop him from reminding all of Hell you still belong to him. He doesn’t trust anyone down here. He’ll convince you it’s for your safety that he tightens the collar around your neck. With a hum of approval, Val’s long and slender fingers twist the tag with his name on it. Heart shaped, of course, he loves you after all!

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Only the insecure need to put a claim on their person. That’s not Vox, no way! You’re never really out of his sights anyways, what with today’s power of technology and all! The need to brand you goes a different route. He wants everyone to know you’re spoken for, pulling you on camera every chance he gets. He wants them to stare in awe and envy but cast their eyes down when you walk by in public. A slight on you would be a slight on him personally and no one messes with The Vees

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Truthfully, there isn’t much she wouldn’t do. You’re all over her Sinstagram and that says it all. Every runway show, every red carpet walk, every paparazzi shot you’re always beside her. Vel dresses you left and right to match her OOTD somehow. She snaps a pic every single day (sometimes more) to show her followers their favorite couple is thriving and stylish as always! The description never fails to scream how your all hers

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chelseeebe · 4 days

Text

gimme a hand

okay so i saw a silly tiktok abt how guys take nudes wrong and thought our lovely best friend reader could help eddie take some !! i am a little tipsy so pls excuse any mistakes

mdni. 18+. smut. like, literally just smut. fem!reader x eddie.

“so.. how are things with you and.. whatshername?” clicking your fingers in his face.

eddie scoffs, batting your hand away, “chrissy is her name,” correcting your childish behaviour, “and it’s good, we’ve been.. texting a little,” shrugging nonchalantly.

you and eddie had been best friends for years, though these hang outs were few and far between now. both too busy with the perils of adult life to sit around and smoke weed all day, like you used to.

that meant that your relationship had skewed a bit, no longer as close as you once were. though you still tried to feign an interest in his, mostly nonexistent, love life.

he understood though, your life was far too interesting to care about the very small roster of girls he was seeing.

“texting?” you exclaim, stubbing the embers of the joint out into the ashtray, “so you haven’t seen her since?”

eddie shakes his head, realising that what he had thought was an exciting update, was actually just a pathetic retelling of a long text thread.

“i think we’re just.. testing the waters,” brushing off your disappointment. he contemplates even telling you anymore but what kind of a best friend would he be if he didn’t at least tell you all the details. “she sent me pictures the other day,” wriggling his eyebrows.

“pictures?” a slight mocking tone to your voice that he doesn’t like, “what kinda pictures?”

his face scrunches up, cheeks flaming red, as if it wasn’t obvious. “you know.. naughty ones.”

you whistle, blowing the air from your cheeks in the most sarcastic manner, “naughty pictures.. wow eddie, you’re really moving up in the world. did you send any back?”

his head dips, regretful of ever sharing this with you. you had never had a lack of choice for guys lining up for you. even back in high school. of course you wouldn’t understand.

“no..” shrugging again, “i don’t.. don’t know how.”

“you don’t know how to send nudes?” utter shock rippling through your voice, “didn’t i teach you anything?”

“not how to send nudes!” he hits back, getting increasingly frustrated that you’d rather mock him than help him get laid for once.

“i can help you if you want,” you offer, “i don’t have to watch.. i can just.. guide you?” proposing the question as if it were a completely standard conversation for you two to be having.

“really?” his eyes bright and full of hope.

eddie really liked chrissy, she was sweet and the times they had hung out, they got on well. he just wasn’t equipped to match her flirting, afraid he’d overthink himself into losing her.

“sure,” you smile, grabbing his phone as you stand from the couch, “come on,” beckoning for him to follow you down the corridor to the bathroom.

you bundle into the trailers tiny bathroom, poised in front of the mirror with his phone in hand.

“you stand here..” you instruct, guiding him by the shoulders, “you need to get hard,” grinning as you look at him through the mirror, “i’ll stand outside and just.. tell you what to do, okay?”

eddie’s too high for this, wondering how you’d gone from a joint and a couple of beers to now helping him sext the girl he liked.

you disappear outside, shoving his phone into his chest, the knob clicking quietly as the realisation of what the hell he was doing sets in.

“so..” he poises, swiping onto the camera, posing himself in the dirty mirror, “pull my pants down, right?” wanting to make sure that he got nothing wrong.

“yeah, but not all the way, just like.. a little bit.”

okay, he thinks. tugging his sweatpants down just beneath his balls, his boxers following suit. he was getting hard just thinking about it, the fact that you were instructing him what to do wasn’t helping.

his fingers wraps around the base of his cock, pumping his fist a few times, stifling the groan that had settled in his throat.

this was already weird enough, he didn’t need to make it weirder.

“okay..” his voice quivering, “what now?”

you tut, “pull your shirt up.. or off, it looks bad otherwise.”

eddie does as you ask, taking his shirt off and tossing it into the floor with the rest of his dirty clothes. he peers at the image through the screen, inwardly cringing at how stupid he looked.

“i don’t know,” though his dick was already stiff, aching for him to continue. “i look stupid,” he frowns, attempting to position the phone differently, although nothing seemed to help his pathetic stature.

“no you don’t,” your voice rings through the door, “now you gotta pose it.. make it look good, sexy.”

his eyes squeeze shut, wishing you’d stop talking with that low growl in your voice. this was for chrissy’s benefit, not his. getting off to the sound of your voice while trying to arouse another girl was not the plan.

eddie exhales, opening his eyes to reposition the phone, closer to the mirror. his fist begging to move and finish the job.

nothing helped, in fact, it looked worse than before. chrissy’d block him if he dared sent anything like this.

fuck, he felt like a pervert. this was wrong. twisted.

“have you done it?” you call.

“no,” he gulps, frowning at the image of himself in the mirror.

you huff, knuckles wrapping against the door, “i’m gonna come in, okay?” giving him no time to think before you appear next to him in the mirror.

your eyes fall straight to his cock, widening every so slightly, “wow.. okay,” chuckling awkwardly as you snap back into it. “you have to..” your hand lowers his phone, straightening the camera position for him.

his breath is jagged, on the edge of exploding and splattering all over his bathroom. whatever buzz he had had from the weed had dissipated, replaced by the hazy tingly sensation of your hand near his cock.

“and then..” you look to him, in person this time, not through the safety of the mirror, before wrapping your fingers around the ones that were still lingering around his cock. “do this..” voice trailing off into a low whisper, using his fist to pump his already leaking cock.

a strangled gasp leaves his mouth, heat searing through his body. mind too fuzzy to truly comprehend the shit he was seeing and feeling.

the heat of your body presses against his back, delicate fingers still travelling the length of his cock, “film it,” not once letting your eyes fall from the side of his face while his stay firmly on the mirror in front.

maybe this way he could pretend it wasn’t real, that he was just watching some video and you weren’t actually jerking him off by-proxy.

eddie, ever obedient, presses the record button, sighing into his phone as your his hand continues to move.

his knees almost buckle, kept afloat by the sound of you panting into his ear. it was almost too much, his brain collapsing into itself as your hand takes over, ignoring the phone in his hand to continue making him whine and quiver like that.

the weight of your body presses him into the cold china basin, eyes travelling from his face to his dick and right back up again.

you could’ve told him to jump right now and he would’ve. other hand reaching around to grab onto whatever part of you he could get a grip on.

your lips trace against his neck, lingering against the skin. he couldn’t keep the phone straight, the video would just be some big blur of him groaning and the sink. not that it matters. not while you’re touching him.

“is this good?” you ask, breath tickling against his ear.

eddie nods rapidly, “good.. so good,” fingers twisting around your shirt as his eyes flutter closed. “fuck,” he gasps, the phone slipping from his hand onto the counter when your thumb circles the tip of his dick. an otherworldly feeling he had never been able to feel before.

“yeah?” you grit, pulling his hand, signalling for him to turn. his bones were jelly, body mailable and under your control. his back now pressed against the sink, foreheads pressed together.

one hand holds onto your hip while the other finds your cheek, lazily trying to connect your lips. your knee slides between his legs, spreading them just enough for your other hand to creep between and grab his balls.

“ohh shit,” eddie wails, kissing at your bottom lip, sucking at the skin.

nothing felt real, waiting for his alarm to pull him out of this fucked dream to a sticky puddle and a new perspective on your friendship.

your expert fingers fondle his balls while the other fists his dick, pre-cum making your fingers glisten and move with ease.

his throat squeaks, the most pitiful noise a grown man could’ve made, his bottom lip still latched onto yours.

ten years of friendship and yet the two of you had never even kissed before. wishing you wouldn’t have wasted so much time on actually doing it. a newfound adoration for the sweet taste of your lips and the friction of your palm rubbing against his cock.

“i’m gonna cum,” he babbles, stomach flipping, waves of pleasure crashing through his tingling limbs.

you don’t respond to his whining, your nose brushes over his as his breaths become shallow and staggered. a iron clad grip on your shirt as he teeters over the edge, hips stuttering into your palm.

“ohh fuck,” eddie mewls, bursting all over your hand, “shit.. fuck, oh god,” your eyes dark, gazing down at your hand still wrapped around him, somewhat proud of what you’ve achieved.

he lets go of his hold on your body, hurriedly trying to find the counter to ground himself. his head a million miles away on mars, his lack of thoughts disrupted by the sound of the water running.

chest still heaving as he braves a look at you, watching his release swirl down the drain. you’re chewing on your bottom lip, a sudden realisation that you had just made your best friend cum maybe. he doesn’t really want to ask. hoping you won’t regret it.

eddie picks up his phone, stopping the recording, his thumb shooting straight to the tiny trash can until you grab his wrist.

“don’t delete it,” a fire within your eyes, twisting the screen in your direction, “i wanna watch.”’

his finger hovers over the play button, looking to you though your eyes are trained on the screen, waiting for him to press play.

the video starts, shaky footage as the audio of his pathetic grunts and gasps fill the tiny bathroom. eddie can’t bring himself to watch, forcing himself to watch you rather than the video.

you’re smiling to yourself, smug at the sight of you making him crumble. he wants to be embarrassed, can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and yet, he doesn’t turn it off.

“maybe don’t send that..” you remark, finding his eye, that mischievous sparkle that eddie hadn’t seen in years, reappearing.

he needed to feel you, in the way that you had felt him. cock already reawakening when your lips twitch into a smirk.

shit.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 month

Text

we can dip if you’re ready ; satoru gojo

synopsis; your dreams of a peaceful summer are rudely shattered by the presence of your best friend’s older brother; the same brother who rejected you five years ago. the same brother you’re still hopelessly, uselessly in love with.

word count; 7.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, best friend’s brother!gojo (he’s the hottest man in the stratosphere), mild age gap (four years!), unrequited love, but with a hopeful ending kind of, bittersweet fluff, mostly summer shenanigans and pining, riko is satoru’s younger sister and i would give her the stars, sugu makes a guest appearance, (they’re both just there to bully gojo), he’s fairly mature in this i think, reader is very stubborn and very down bad, [name] is used exactly once

a/n; personally i would let him use me as workout gear (tagging @teddybeartoji @dollsuguru @hayakawalove @stellamancer @vagabond-umlaut !! tysm for the help and encouragement ily 🥺🥺)

one mellow summer morning, over a breakfast of pancake and toast, the puppy-love you’ve nurtured for the past three years finally reaches its conclusion.

you’re seventeen years old. in three months you’ll be eighteen, standing on your own two feet, headed in a new direction — the whole world within your reach. but right now you’re still only seventeen, and lovesick, and sleeping on a mattress in your best friend’s room. listening to the sound of the nearby sea.

you’re seventeen, and dreaming about things you can’t have. you’re seventeen, and foolishly wearing your heart on your sleeve.

you’re seventeen, and hopelessly, uselessly in love with a certain satoru gojo.

it’s early. your veins are sleepy and your heart is heavy, and you wake up at the crack of dawn just to catch a glimpse of him before he leaves for work. he’s leaning against the kitchen island when you trot down the stairs, and the smell of syrupy pancakes hangs heavy in the air; his bare chest is exposed, pajama pants clinging to the curve of his hips, and he rejects you with an easygoing kindness you wish he wouldn’t grant you.

”you’re more like a younger sibling to me. you understand, right?”

(suddenly, without mercy; a finality to his voice.)

he ruffles your hair, and you’re still sleepy, and you wish you could grasp the strings of your heartbeat to stop it from fluttering like this. wish you could pull yourself out of whatever trance he put you in, all those years ago, when you stumbled over the threshold to your best friend’s house and crashed headfirst into his chest.

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.”

he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this?

it’s a specific kind of torture.

there are lots of people out there for you.

(i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know.

but i want you.)

“don’t get hung up on a schoolgirl crush, hm?”

when you finally raise your head, satoru is looking right at you. kindly, patiently, like a benevolent god. his blue eyes flecked with dots of white, like fluffy clouds on a summer sky. tilting his head to the right, as if searching for confirmation, waiting for your response. you muster up the will to nod; smiling in a way that must seem pitiful.

but he just pinches your cheek, throws a backpack over his broad shoulders, and asks you to let his sister know he’ll be home later than usual today.

then he leaves. he leaves you alone with two plates of sugary pancakes on the kitchen table, one for you and one for riko. he put whipped cream on top, and chocolate chips in the batter. it smells good. it smells like an apology.

and that’s how it ends.

there’s no great climax, no real resolution. you bite down on your lip, and spend about an hour pitifully sniffling into a fluffy pillow, even though none of it comes as a surprise. it still hurts, though. your best friend comforts you, tells you that at least you have some kind of closure now — an absolute rejection to make your feelings go away. about time, she thinks, though she’s far too kind to say it outloud.

except they don’t.

the moral of the story is: satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he’s known you since you were fourteen, since he was eighteen, and he could never see you as anything more than a little kid. you’re his sister’s best friend, and he loves you, but not in the way you love him. it’s not surprising, or shocking. it’s exactly how it should be.

satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he never will.

(you really, really wish your stupid heartbeat cared.)

one breezy summer evening, five years later, you step onto a bustling train platform — dragging your luggage behind you, and breathing in the scent of a familiar seaside.

above you, seagulls chatter and cry. you look around, and everything feels familiar, despite the time that’s passed since the last summer you visited. the same flowers, peach blossoms and hydrangeas and tulips in all kinds of shades, the same street vendors and aroma of freshly grilled fish. the same cute and quaint port town, quiet during winter and autumn, pleasantly noisy during the warmer seasons. right now, on the cusp of june, there are enough tourists around to make finding the right face in the crowd a difficult task.

luckily, she’s quick to find you.

with her long, dark locks of hair, neatly braided, her yellow sundress and matching headband; sunflowers embroidered into the fabric. barreling towards you with a speed that would scare you a little if you weren’t so used to it, so used to her.

riko. your one and only best friend.

she’s nestled into your embrace before you can get any greetings out, and squeezing you so tightly that you have no choice but to let her beat you to it. she’s warm, like a bundle of sunshine. the same as always.

with a low whine of your name, she nuzzles into your chest. “i missed youuuu…”

a chuckle bubbles up in your throat. and even though it hasn’t been very long at all, even though you talk on the phone almost every day and saw each other in person just about a month ago, you indulge her.

“i missed you too, riko.”

another whine, and then she’s pulling back. squishing your cheeks together and pouting petulantly. “you better have! don’t ever make me spend summer all alone again, okay?”

”you’re still mad about that?” you match her expression, eager to protest. “it’s not my fault i got sick.”

“too sick to see your best friend? too sick to continue our most important tradition?” she shakes her head, letting go of you. struggling not to smile. “awful. just awful!”

“drama queen.” her lips break out into a grin, and yours follow. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

“you are,” she agrees, quick to link her arm with yours. you follow her steps, leading you towards that familiar house. you can see it from here, a roof burdened with morning glories, those expensive white walls. “no, but seriously. i’m really happy to see you.” her voice drips with joy, giddy and sweet. “i don’t think i’d survive two months alone with that old man.”

ah. right.

your lips curl up into a smile, albeit a little uncertain. giddy, maybe. nervous? you aren’t sure. something swirls around in your stomach, little butterflies. tickling the ridges of your ribs, all those fluttering heartstrings. it’s been a while since you felt like this. all your summers are spent here, and all of riko’s, but he’s usually too busy.

the girl on your right chatters on and on, clinging to you, gradually melting away your skittish nerves. she tells you about her morning, what she ate for breakfast, the new show she’s been binging — it’s just as familiar as the house that soon comes fully into view. big and expensive, but still cozy, overgrown with flora. you don’t think either of the siblings really bother to take care of it, but it’s a pretty kind of neglect. a cute veranda, a beautiful garden. the apple tree you used to climb. the buzz of an old radio spills out from an opened window, translucent curtains swaying with the breeze. when you strain your eyes you think you hear humming.

riko grins, dragging you with her through the opened gate. the yellow paint on the fence is starting to peel, and someone from inside has started pushing the door open, and the butterflies in your stomach can do nothing but sputter and squirm.

it’s summer, and you're back. back in that cute, quaint port town.

(and so is he.)

“why, hello there! if it isn’t my cute little [name].”

time stills, for just a single moment.

he looks the same as you remember. a little taller, you think, but he was always tall enough to tower over you; broad shoulders and long legs, sharp blue eyes gazing down at you. he’s wearing black shades, but you can still feel the weight of his pupils, crumble under the knowledge that his attention is entirely on you. wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight black shirt, showing off every dip and ridge of his chest.

a pleasantly cool breeze ruffles his white hair, short and trimmed, healthy locks to match his bright and sunny grin.

he looks happy to see you.

“don’t be weird,” comes riko’s voice, breaking you out of your little spell. all while she’s ushering you both towards the door, beyond the threshold, into the hallway. satoru clicks his tongue.

“so hostile today. shouldn't you be in a good mood?”

then he’s turning towards you, again, tilting his head just enough for his eyes to peek out. they’re crinkled at the edges, and his smile is fond. “how was your trip?”

more butterflies. his voice flows from his glossy lips, smooth and melted, pleasantly deep. you can only hang on to riko’s arm, mustering a small smile of your own.

“good,” you chirp. a little stiff, but polite, like you’re greeting an old friend; it’s been so long since you last spoke to him. ”i’m tired, though.”

your reply is met with a chuckle, a raspy tremor of his vocal cords. it sends a shiver down your spine. the weight on your arm disappears, as riko stumbles forward and kicks her sandals off. muttering something about gum getting stuck on the sole. you’re left standing right across from satoru, suddenly very aware of how much space he takes up all on his own. leaning against the wall, making himself comfortable. and chuckling, with that stupidly sexy voice. “i bet. take a nap if you need to, yeah?”

a moment of silence. riko curses in the background, and you shift from foot to foot. unable to properly look into his eyes.

for a second, his smile drops — eyes obscured by the black glass of his frames, betraying no emotion. it only lasts a second.

then he’s moving forward, one large stride towards you, leaning down to wrap his big arms around your waist. bringing you into a hug, not as tight as you remember them being. you wonder if he’s holding back.

(his touch burns your skin, all the same.)

one of his palms finds solace on the top of your head, ruffling your hair. you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, terribly sincere.

“i missed you, kiddo.”

a quiet squeak tumbles from your lips, and you pray to every god you can think of that he doesn’t hear it. his chest is pressed right against you, firm, radiating body heat. his limbs wrap you up in it, a cocoon of warmth that makes it hard to breathe. you can smell his cologne from where your cheek meets his collarbone; sandalwood invading your senses.

“i m-missed you too,” is all you can croak out, voice breaking pitifully. at this rate you might actually faint.

just out of view, riko narrows her eyes. before you can plead for help, she’s tugging you away from the embrace, pushing her brother away, and you inhale as much of the fresh summer air as you can.

“alright, that’s enough,” she huffs, pulling you closer. “c’mon! we should unpack your stuff right away!”

“want me to carry it?” satoru asks, already eyeing your luggage like a predator about to lunge at his prey. even if you say no, you know he’s not going to listen.

so you let him. and within the next few minutes, you’re seated on riko’s bed, suitcase on the floor, a glass of lemonade in your hand. blinking sluggishly.

“are you sure you’ll be alright?”

you raise your head. your best friend is looking at you with a questioning glance, head tilted and brows furrowed. now you’re all alone, and it’s quiet, peaceful. her brother went out to buy snacks for you. all you can hear is the low buzz of the radio downstairs, and faraway waves.

“huh?”

“i mean, with, y’know…” she moves her hands haphazardly, making some kind of gesture you don’t understand. “with my brother. and your… condition.”

you blink.

“… did you just refer to my crush as a condition?”

“well, it might as well be!” she groans, muffled, faceplanting onto the mattress. “don’t think i didn’t see you checking out his biceps just now. you’re so obvious.”

heat rushes to your cheeks. you try to shoo it away with a furrow of your brows and a loud exhale, but it lingers underneath your skin. “look — i —“ you scramble for words, brain tied up in fatigued knots. “did you see that shirt? is he buying them a size too small, or what?”

“oh, come on! that’s all it takes?”

another pair of exhales. you cross your legs, and she rolls onto her back. the silence is comfortable, and you gnaw at your bottom lip until she speaks up again.

“you could really, really do better, you know?”

her voice is quiet. soft, sincere, delicate as a sheet of glass. you know she’s just looking out for you, that she doesn’t want you pining for a guy who’ll never return those feelings — she’s kind like that, always has been. but…

“… i just like him.”

you take a tentative sip of your lemonade. sour and sweet. the cubes of ice clink against the glass, fresh condensation cooling down the tips of your fingers. her gaze lingers on your skin. it’s heavy, just like his.

you meet it with a sheepish smile, a little self-deprecating, but not embarrassed. she already knows all about your predicament.

(you just like him. that’s all there is to it.)

and she pulls herself into a sitting position.

“i know, i know,” she finally sighs, slumping against you, cheek smushed over your shoulder. “just don’t give him more attention than me, ‘kay?”

you let out giggle. “well, duh.”

she gives you a sunny grin.

“okay, good.”

you put the glass down on the windowsill beside you. just so you can stretch your arms out, falling backwards; a mountain of pillows cushioning your fall. a yawn spills past your lips, and riko sits up.

“wanna take a nap?” she tilts her head, dark locks framing her pretty blue eyes, deep as the sea. “that’s probably good. we’re going straight to the beach tomorrow, you know!”

“mm…” your eyes flutter shut, and you focus on that faraway sound. waves crashing against sand, the whistling of seagulls, the salty scent of the ocean. “that sounds nice.”

despite your exhaustion, you end up tossing and turning that night. not because of your best friend’s snores, or the feeling of a mattress you haven’t slept on in two years — but from the quiet sounds downstairs. glasses clinking, a chuckle here and there. the tv being turned on. tossing and turning from the knowledge that your childhood heartthrob, current heartthrob, is in the same house as you. a little older, a little less childish, even more charming than you remember him being.

you’re older, too. more mature, you like to think, even if the gain is small.

(maybe there’s a chance?)

shaking the thoughts from your head, mind still spinning along to the tune of his humming, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to fall asleep.

you’ll be okay.

okay, nevermind. you’re completely screwed.

“oh, there you are!”

satoru is already waiting up ahead when you step onto the beach, feeling the sand between your toes, a pleasantly cool breeze giving you respite from the sweltering heat.

the sun beats down on you, fervent sunlight warming the water up ahead, calm waves and a sparkling blue to match the hue of the sky; cobalts and ceruleans, melting together like watercolour on a canvas. people crowd around the food stands, shaved ice and churros and grilled fish, scents mingling together with the joyous chatter all around you. vibrant sensations, enough to excite but not to overwhelm.

a picture-perfect summer day.

your heart tingles with something giddy, skipping happily as you follow riko’s lead; she’s wearing a cute bikini set, frilly and floral, hair styled into a pair of braided pigtails, kept together by her favorite scrunchies. leading you towards her older brother, waiting patiently, having already grabbed a nice spot for you. a parasol, a blanket, a picnic basket. you see bottles of pink lemonade, wrapped sandwiches, strawberries in a plastic container.

more than anything, you see him. you see him, and realize just how screwed you are.

he’s smiling, when you approach. as always. hair tousled by the ocean breeze, blue eyes gleaming with mirth, exposed by the sunglasses close to slipping down the bridge of his nose. he’s wearing a hawaiian shirt, black in colour, white floral patterns to tie it all together. just unbuttoned enough to show off his collarbone, a sliver of his chest, the short sleeves exposing his biceps; patches of pale skin, shining with the beginnings of sweat.

(you’re about to fucking explode.)

as soon as you’re in sight, satoru lights up, aiming the flash of his phone in your direction. his other hand stays tucked into the pocket of his shorts. “aw, look at you two!” he coos, grinning brightly, teasing and sweet. “pose for the camera, okay?”

you’re still too hypnotized to react, but riko scurries ahead, ready to steal it from his grasp.

“no pictures!”

“oh, don’t be like that!” he takes a step back, dodging her attack by a hair, still wearing the same grin. “you’re gonna thank me ten years from now, trust me. it’s for the memories!”

a new voice spills into the air, suddenly, and you’re brought back into reality. it’s silky and low, smooth and nice, honeysuckle nectar turned into sound. interrupting the siblings.

“it’s been ten seconds. how are you already bickering?”

you turn towards its source, and spot a familiar face — right next to satoru. were you seriously too mesmerized to notice him? black hair, another hawaiian shirt, slightly lidded eyes…

suguru.

he meets your surprised stare with a relaxed smile, and takes a step forward; meeting you for a quick hug. he looks the same as he did when you were younger, odd bangs, hair tied up into a bun.

“hi there,” he hums, right by your ear, a light squeeze before he lets go. “it’s been a while.”

you part your lips, smiling through your words. a little stunned. “i didn’t know you’d be here too!”

he chuckles, a light shrug of his shoulders. “me neither. satoru called me last night and asked me to drop by. i had time to kill.”

“you missed me.”

a dubious look. suguru gives a lazy roll of his eyes, avoiding the smug voice to his right. “i saw you last week,” he tuts, an unimpressed expression on his face. “how could i miss you?”

“do you need a reason to miss your best friend?” he shakes his head, slowly, side to side. white locks swaying back and forth. “awful. just awful.”

you stifle a smile, completely unsuccessful. the sun feels nice on your skin, and the scent of the sea is nostalgic, and they’re all the same as ever. it’s like you can feel your nerves melting away, slowly but surely, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps between your fingers.

“the matching shirts are cute,” you point out, wanting to partake in the conversation, only to be met with a pair of furrowed brows.

suguru sighs. “that…” he mutters, massaging his temple, not before shooting satoru a dirty glance. “wasn't planned.”

said man only grins, unperturbed, tucking his phone back into his pocket. thoroughly amused. “he’s mad that i stole his fit,” he chirps, stretching his arms idly. it makes his shirt ride up, ever so slightly, and you swallow a gulp.

“well… you look good in it.”

at that, satoru stills. gazing at you, silently, before breaking out into another grin. self-satisfied, a smooth curve, sunlight against the white of his teeth. you glance away, suddenly a little shy.

“does he?” the other two deadpan, completely in sync. it shoos away the smile on his lips, making way for a displeased frown.

“oh, come on. would it kill you to call me handsome now and then?”

“handsome?” riko places her hands on her hips, raising an unimpressed brow, a sassy lilt to her voice. “you look like a single father down on his luck.”

“seconded,” suguru quips, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. “honestly, i’m surprised you’re wearing any layers at all. not gonna flaunt your abs this time?”

satoru brightens, suddenly. wiggling his brows, a sweet coo on the tip of his tongue. “oh? want me to loosen up a couple buttons?” he purrs, and you hate yourself a little for the instant yes that resounds through your mind. “you know you can always just ask, suguru.”

his teasing goes ignored, but you don’t miss the amusement that flits through the scope of suguru’s eyes, even as he tries to maintain that deadpan expression.

finally, he exhales. “well, see you later,” he hums, directed to you and riko, checking the time on his wristwatch. “i should probably get going.”

“you’re not staying?” you ask, lashes fluttering with a confused blink. he smiles.

“i am,” he reassures you. “just gonna go fishing for a while. i thought i’d give it a try.”

“fishing?” riko exclaims, covering her amused grin with the palm of her hand. stifling laughter, you can tell, a bout of giggles begging to push past her lips. “what are you, fifty?”

satoru lets out a snort. to his left, suguru goes eerily silent — ominous, staring into your best friend’s eyes with no visible emotion. enough to make her smile fall. you feel a sense of deja vu.

“wait, i’m just kidding!” she suddenly squeaks, clinging to your arm and hiding behind you. she’s always had good survival instincts. ”don’t put me in a headlock!”

(they’re so stupid.

gosh, you missed them.)

“oh, by the way — do you want some shaved ice?” she turns to you, eyes crinkled at the edges, voice syrupy and sweet. “i can go get us some. what flavour do you want?”

“ah, great idea!” satoru matches her tone, tongue flitting out to lick his lips, glossy with chapstick. “i was just craving something sweet.”

“you’re paying, by the way.”

“…”

“so? any preference?” she tilts her head, waiting patiently for your reply. smiling once she gets it. “alright, got it. you, suguru?”

“i’m good. thanks, though.”

“okie-dokie,” she puts her palm out, facing satoru. “money, please.”

he only tuts, digging through his pocket and pulling out a black wallet. you think you spot a photocard, but he’s pulled out a credit card and tucked it back into his pocket before you can get a closer look.

“get me watermelon, okay? strawberry is fine too. if push comes to shove, go for anything other than lemon.” he hands her the card with a click of his tongue. “and watch out for creeps. if anyone hits on you, you know where to aim.”

she pockets it with a huff, exasperation on her features. “i’m twenty-three, toru. i can take care of myself.”

“aww, don’t be like that,” he coos, hands reaching out to squish her cheeks. she tries to squirm away, to no avail. “you’ll always be my little baby sister, you know. and, as your dependable big bro, i —“

“ugh, whatever.” she shoots him an unimpressed glance, finally escaping his hold. ”are you gonna go all men are wolves on us, or something?”

”they are! just look at suguru.”

”hey.”

you hide a growing smile behind your hand, watching them bicker and banter, feeling that sense of peace again. the summer day feels a little like a hazy daydream, a heavy nostalgia that sticks to your bones like gum on the sole of your shoe.

and, once again — you end up alone with a certain someone. suguru walks towards the faraway pier, riko strolls up to the stand selling shaved ice, and satoru lingers behind. you think he looks relaxed, at ease, but you can’t really look at him for too long without feeling nervous. without feeling as if you’re both ignoring the elephant in the room.

it still feels a little like there’s an invisible wall between you.

he’s the first to speak up, craning his neck and stretching like a big cat, a tiny groan escaping him. “well, there they go,” he hums. “what do you feel like doing first?”

“ummm…” you rack your brain for ideas, coming up empty. a little fried by his presence. you could go into the water, and escape the heat — sunbathing with him doesn’t sound so bad, though…

lost deep in thought, you barely notice him inching closer. still weighing your options, water or land, a relaxing nap or a splash war. you don’t notice until you feel his arm sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer, just by a hair. stealing all the oxygen from your lungs.

(you think your brain shuts down a little.)

his touch burns, as always. bare skin on bare skin. electric, a trail of sparks rushing through your veins. he’s warm, and solid, effortlessly composed — guiding you right where he wants you, which is by his chest, where you can practically hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat —

and then he’s pulling away.

you raise your head to meet his gaze, completely flushed, unsure if you were hallucinating or not. he’s looking somewhere behind you, with a distinctly cold gaze. you follow his stare, craning your neck, catching a glimpse of a man turning his back on you both before walking away.

… was he staring at you, or what?

when you search for satoru’s eyes again, they’re already on you. he’s smiling, a little sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck.

“sorry,” he chuckles. “i got paranoid.”

oh.

your skin still feels like it’s on fire. a lingering heat, blossoming where his skin touched yours, rendering you speechless. embarrassing, embarrassing, embarrassing. he was just looking out for you.

finally, you gain control over your vocal chords, dry and charred. just enough to croak out a response.

“i — it’s fine.”

your eyes stay glued to the sand beneath you, staring at a crushed seashell, unable to look him in the eye. feeling the back of your neck grow hotter. you miss the dirty glance riko sends his way, having just returned with the shaved ice, and the way satoru mouths out a silent what?

it’s easier after that. she grounds you, a little, leading you out into the sea. the water is pleasantly mild, licking at your ankles, coaxing you further, until it’s reaching up to your waist. it cools you down considerably, and before you know it you’re splashing her with all you’ve got, giggles filling the salty air — seagull cries above you and wet sand beneath your feet, a glimmer or two of tiny fish, loud laughter. sensations all around you. satoru watches you with a smile, munching on a sandwich, not joining you both until riko beckons him over.

the day stretches on, melting away into evening. people leave the beach behind them, suguru heads back to the house with a bucket of fish and a smug smile, riko dries herself off with a towel and rushes to a nearby convenience store when she notices that it’s about to close. murmuring something about dinner, shooting you an anxious glance, a silent will you be alright on your own? with him?

you wave her off with a smile. hoping it’ll come off as convincing.

so, one way or another, you end up under a parasol with a certain satoru gojo; putting empty bottles of lemonade back into the picnic basket, rolling up the blanket, stuck with cleaning duty. satoru carries it all, unwilling to let you help, the basket hanging off his arm. you walk away from the beach, stepping onto solid asphalt again, beginning your trekk up towards the main street — not too long of a walk, but you’re tired, even though satoru doesn’t seem tuckered out in the slightest. walking a step or two ahead of you.

the sun is beginning to set, melting like a sundae on the boundary of the horizon, rays of golden sunshine dripping down your wrist. satoru looks good in it, the pink and orange; peaceful, somehow. when the breeze licks a stripe across his cheek, he closes his eyes and exhales. there’s a smile on those lips, a smile of contentment.

he turns towards you and waits until you catch up.

“tired?” he coos, tilting his head, absently tucking his shades into the breast pocket of his shirt. blinking slowly, eyes shimmering in the summery hue of evening.

“kinda,” you smile, trying to muster a pep in your step. another hum buzzes in his throat, and then he’s facing forward again.

“c’mon. let’s get you something from the vending machine, okay? ‘s just up ahead.” he pats your head, once, twice. “that’ll give you some energy.”

you can only nod, following his lead. hydrangeas bloom all around you, a thick syrupy scent, paired with apple blossoms from the backyards you pass. then you spot the vending machine. satoru takes out his wallet, finding his card — it’s not the same one as before. riko still has it.

and this time, you’re close enough to see it. in his wallet is a photocard, clearly visible; of a baby, sleeping soundly, with short tufts of hair. a dark colour unlike his own.

(your heart melts, a little.)

“cola or sprite?”

you raise your head, looking through the barrier of glass in front of you. then you’re stepping forward, fingertip pressing against it, pointing towards a green can of sprite. not looking at him, as you make your choice. ”this one.”

— suddenly, you feel his skin on yours.

you’re sleepy, and pliant, jaw caught between his fingers. he lifts it up, turns it towards him, just so that you’ll meet his gaze. two seas of blue, flecks of pure white, summer skies and summer clouds.

“there,” he exhales, pleased. giving you a reassuring smile before pulling away. “you’ve barely looked me in the eye today. ‘s gonna break my heart, y’know.”

a pause. you gulp, on instinct, shying away from his unbridled attention — eyes moving from those summer skies down to the curve of his glossy lips, and then back up again. a mistake, because when you glance down once more, unable to help yourself, you see it.

that apologetic smile.

(you really are obvious, aren’t you?

how embarrassing.)

silence splits the scene in half, only the faraway sounds of seagulls as background noise. they sound a little like they’re laughing, mocking you.

satoru presses a button on the vending machine, followed by a quiet beep. he doesn’t look at you when he broaches the subject, and you wonder if it’s out of respect or discomfort.

“still not over that schoolgirl crush, huh?”

…

something twists inside your gut. a little ugly, a little sentimental. now that he’s made the first move, it’s easier to move the pieces.

“it’s not a crush,” you murmur, kicking at a pebble on the ground. surprised by how clear your voice comes out. “i’m in love with you.”

a sigh. another beep, and the sound of a sodacan falling against metal flooring. he crouches down.

“… you could really, really do better.”

you watch as he fumbles with the pick-up box, eyes trained on the back of his neck, the buzzed hair of his undercut. letting out a quiet breath. “riko said the same thing.”

a snort pushes past his lips, ripe with fondness. he pulls himself up from the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to another, reaching for his wallet again. “oh, i’m sure.” he tucks the card back, slipping it into his pocket. a stray cat strolls by you, unburdened, waving its tail in the air. “really, though. you should listen to her.”

something cold meets your cheek. metal, condensation, a pleasant shiver down your spine. he presses the aluminium can against you, and you receive it with a murmur of thanks.

“i’m too old for you, for one.” he continues, and suddenly you feel a little like you’re being lectured. you break open the lid of the sprite can.

“you’re four years older.” a fizzy sound crackles like static in your ears, carbonation bubbling up, sticking to your fingertips. “and we’re both adults.”

he huffs out a breath, only mildly amused. “i’m pushing thirty, y’know?”

you take a sip, lips against cold aluminum, melting sunrays lapping at your skin. it tastes sweet.

“i know.” a pause, your bottom lip trapped between two sharp teeth. gnawing at the flesh. ”i can’t control how i feel, though.”

…

“yeah,” he sighs, leaning back against the glass. crossing one leg over the other, fiddling with something in his pocket. “i know.”

a moment passes. then he parts his lips, again.

“hey, how about you join me on a mixer someday?” he searches for your gaze, smiling, another one of those charming tilts of his head. “i know some cute guys. and girls, if that’s your thing.”

your answer is instantaneous.

“i’ll pass.”

…

another exhale, breathed out into the summer air. it drips with exasperation, ripe with fatigue, but there’s still something fond there. unmistakable.

“fine, fine. just… think about it. okay?” his palm finds its way to your head, ruffling your hair gently. that comforting weight. “c’mon, let’s go back. riri’s making dinner tonight.”

and then he’s taking a step forward. you watch his back for only a moment, still deep in thought. a fizzy, syrupy sweetness sticking to your teeth, a sense of nostalgia invading all your senses. and, as always, that silent adoration.

deep down, you know it’s true. there’s no changing this, whatever this is. in the same way riko will always be his baby sister, you’ll always just be the brat that sniffled into his chest after your first fight with her.

he’ll never quite see you the way you’d like him to.

(but, then again, isn’t that a part of it? that subtle, subtle kindness of his. the sense of maturity that asks for nothing in return.)

satoru is a good guy. that’s why you can’t help but adore him, despite everything. can’t help but watch his back as he leaves you behind, wishing you could catch up.

it feels nice, to open yourself up like this. crack the lid of your heart and have him wade through the carbonation. it feels nice to have your feelings be acknowledged, even if they aren’t reciprocated. even if you’re completely delusional, and high on summer joy. it feels nice just to watch him shine.

you gulp down the rest of your sprite, toss it into a trash can across the street, and stumble after him. veins sleepy, heart heavy, overwhelmed by adoration. you’ve already cracked the lid open; everything else comes easy. you just want to make a move, any move. want to see how he’ll react.

“satoru,” you call, and he comes to a standstill. when he turns around your arms are outstretched. “can i have a piggyback ride?”

the man before you blinks. once, then twice, fluttering like angel wings, or pretty clouds.

and then his smile grows. you catch a glimpse of his dimples, for just a moment, and then he’s beckoning you closer with a chuckle.

“yeah? now you’re suddenly all brave?” he shakes his head, no real discontentment behind it. “or are you really that exhausted?”

he studies you intently, ripe with fondness, and you think your sluggish blinks must be enough to convince him. because he crouches down, back facing you, and chirps out a hop on. a little teasing, of course, but still nice. his arms underneath your thigh, lifting you up like it’s nothing. making sure you’re comfortable.

he’s strong. very strong. the butterflies in your stomach flutter around again.

and you really are very exhausted. bones buzzing with something sleepy and fatigued, sore after all the running around you did in the water. completely tuckered out, resting your cheek against his back. like this, you can feel his muscles, the solidity of his body. it’s a little bit distracting.

“— remember?”

a series of blinks. you grasp onto his shoulders, holding back a yawn. “huh?”

“you falling asleep on me?” he chuckles, walking forward. one step after another, the soles of his sandals hitting the asphalt. “i was saying — how i remember doing this back then.”

you tilt your head.

“when you fell and twisted your ankle. i think it was nearby, actually. some park?”

“... oh.” when you really concentrate, you think you do recall it; the feeling of his back against your chest, a dull ache in your foot. “yeah, i remember.”

satoru hums, a little buzz of amusement. “after that, you and riri would ask me for it all the time. carry us, big bro!” his imitation makes you smile, voice high and squeaky. “so childish, i swear. i could barely carry one of you.”

a chuckle tumbles from your lips, and it seems to spur him on; because he continues. nostalgia pouring out his throat.

“don’t tell her, okay? but, see — i started going to the gym after that. lifting weights. training, and stuff,” he huffs out an amused exhale, grinning softly. “suguru made me carry boulders on the beach. it was kind of our thing.”

…

“we almost got arrested once.”

you can’t help but laugh, hiding in the smooth fabric of his shirt, in between those printed white flowers. shoulders shaking slightly, giddy and amused. “you did that just ‘cause you were embarrassed?”

“no,” he murmurs, softly, the slightest shake of his head. ”because i wanted to be prepared. in case the two of you ever happened to fall over at the same time, or something…” a sheepish little chuckle. ”i wanted to be able to carry you both back.”

satoru continues to walk, facing away from you. always smiling, you’re sure. even if you can’t see it.

“you’re both precious to me,” he says, making sure to keep a steady hold around your legs. “that’s why i don’t want either of you wasting yourselves on some random guy.”

silence. then, a displeased huff.

“… you’re not a random guy, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“well, of course not. i’m the guy,” he quips, standing a little straighter, and you can practically see the smug smirk on his lips. “but i’m not a very good person.”

you blink.

silence fills the open air.

he says it so casually that you almost don't catch it. matter-of-factly, like it’s just another obvious realization, something so deeply ingrained that it isn’t even worthy of a tonal shift. satoru, who makes pancakes for the people he loves, who carries your bags and buys you soda and keeps a picture of his baby sister in his wallet.

that satoru isn’t a good person?

(how could he ever, ever think that?)

“you are.”

a low hum buzzes in his throat, absentminded. you’re not sure he hears you. if he does, he simply doesn’t care enough to respond. the scene flickers by, the moment comes and goes — you want to protest again, but something about this silence makes you hesitate.

the only thing you can do is —

“satoru.”

another little hum. acknowledging, this time.

“do you… i mean,” you choke down a bundle of words, replacing them with new ones. gnawing at the flesh of your bottom lip. “is there really no chance… you’ll ever feel the same? none at all?”

…

a mirthless chuckle. he sounds a little tired, you think. more than a little exasperated. but the amusement is still there, laced into his voice, and you drink it in the same way you’ve always done. a little root, soaking in the light of the sun.

“after all that,” he mutters, “you’re still asking?”

a moment’s pause. you listen intently, as if you could hear the gears of his mind shift if you focus enough. as if just being stubborn enough could coax him into opening up the way you have.

finally, he parts his lips.

“well,” comes a sigh, a click of his tongue. he breathes in the summer breeze. “maybe in a couple decades or so.”

you stare. those white tufts of hair sway with every step he takes, and his voice has a finality to it that isn’t lost on you.

“… okay.”

a pause. then he’s barking out a short laugh, shoulders shaking. you tighten your grip around them. “okay?” he repeats, pinching the skin of your thigh. “can’t you read between the lines, you little troublemaker?”

a huff. you kick your legs, a little, just stretching them contentedly. wet hair sticking to his skin, your cheek still smushed against him, enveloped in his neverending warmth. “i don’t mind,” you whisper, choking down a yawn. and you mean it. “i’ve already waited eight years. a couple decades more isn’t too bad.”

silence, again. you wonder what he’s thinking. you wonder if you’ll ever come close to cracking open the lid of his heart. he parts his lips, oxygen spilling out.

(you think it’s a start.)

“has anyone ever told you that you’re awfully stubborn?”

you’re quick to nod, forehead nuzzling into his undercut. wearing a satisfied smile. “riko tells me all the time.”

“does she?” there’s silent laughter hiding between his teeth, eager to spill out. “that’s good. listen to her, alright? you might learn a thing or two.”

he’s teasing you. the sun is setting, and the air smells like saltwater, and satoru’s back is warm. his voice is set to a melodic lilt, and you feel strangely tempted to close your eyes.

and you adore him again.

right — loving him was never a choice, and waiting wasn’t an issue. getting over him is the tall hurdle, the root of the problem, a root you intend you trip over as many times as it takes for this something to bloom.

because he’s beautiful, and comfortable, and kind. because it’s his back you always end up clinging to. because he knows how you like your pancakes, how you take your coffee, what you look like when you cry. because you like this feeling, the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. even if they’re completely meaningless in the long run.

satoru is right, and so is riko. you’re stubborn, terribly so — if only you could see that as a bad thing.

if only you were physically capable of giving this something up.

unlike the siblings and their overgrown backyard, you just can’t seem to look away from an ugly bud yet to bloom. just in case it ends up blossoming, this summer, or the next. just in case it turns into something worth plucking from the ground. it’s fine if it withers away, too. at least it’ll give way to better soil.

you just like him. you just want to see where it leads you. that’s all.

“but promise you’ll go with me to that mixer, okay?” his voice calls, breaking you out of your thoughts. unrelenting. ”i’ll find you someone who’ll get your mind off lil ol’ me.”

ah. that’s right.

(you’re terribly, horribly stubborn —

and satoru is too.)

you grin, soft and giddy, thinking of the years ahead of you. what they’ll be like. where’s the fun in a certain future?

“fine,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. inhaling that familiar scent of sandalwood. “do your worst.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk x gender neutral reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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zephyrchama · 10 days

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“Don’t,” you warned Lucifer. You saw that self-assured grin on his face. You knew what he was planning.

“What? I just came to see what you were doing.” He leaned on your shoulder with enough weight to tilt you several inches sideways, no matter how much you pushed back. “Don’t mind me, carry on.”

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” you retorted, but it was too late. The others were catching on.

“Hey, hey! What’s going on?” Mammon came over and pushed against your other shoulder, tilting you back upright. “What are two of my favorite people doin’?”

You tried to shrug them both off, to no avail. “We’re not doing anything. We can stop this.”

You couldn’t stop it. Asmodeus was on his way and wasted no time crossing his arms over your back, happily leaning into you from behind. You tilted forward. “Hey! What’s happening here?”

You sighed, “we’re not doing this again.”

Asmodeus teased you with honeyed innocence, “doing what, hon? Something on your mind?”

These three demons thought they were so funny.

A passing Satan made eye contact with you. In that exact moment, you used every bit of imaginary telepathy you could muster. Surely Satan would understand. He could save you. He could free you before it really was too late.

He observed what his brothers were doing, nodded, and approached with a congenial grin. Mission failed.

“Traitor!” You regretted ever agreeing to join this exchange program as Satan slowly fell back into you. You didn’t even try to catch him, you were too busy trying to remain upright under the combined weight of four demons. They were hardly even holding back.

You couldn’t see who was running up, being too busy blowing Satan’s blonde hair out of your face, but at this point it didn’t matter. They were all coming for you.

“Let me in on this!” Leviathan said cheerily.

“Yeah!” “Come on!” Asmodeus and Mammon gladly made some room for Leviathan, which was difficult because you were sinking lower and lower, and you felt another weight pile onto your back as Levi cozied up to your torso. This scenario had played out enough times now that the brothers could somehow keep you from falling over like a Jenga tower, but it was still only a matter of time.

Belphegor squeezed his way in between Satan and Lucifer and wordlessly collapsed onto you as if overcome with narcolepsy. He sure looked cozy. He smirked while you lamented, “I’m never forgiving any of you, ever.”

“Beel? Are you coming?” Lucifer summoned the cherry on top of this ridiculous parfait. You braced as Beelzebub licked the crumbs off his fingers in preparation. He knew what had to be done.

“Are you ready?” At least he had the decency to ask, unlike six other degenerates. The six lumps of dead weight each grabbed a part of your body, shifting from leans to awkward hugs. There was no way to run.

With an exaggerated “hah!”, Beelzebub’s weight and outstretched arms were enough to send everyone crashing down. You were protected from any real damage by the shell of demon brothers, but they soon had you pinned down against someone’s chest in the world’s most embarrassing cuddle pile.

“Aren’t you guys too old for this?” you asked. “By like, ten thousand years?”

“We were just checking up on you,” Lucifer said.

“Yeah, how did this happen? Hmm..!” Asmodeus’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Satan draped his leg over yours and not-so-accidentally kicked Lucifer. “You should have told us what you were doing.”

“I think it’s fun.” Belphegor was the only one to admit the truth.

Hands were running through your hair and over your stomach. Somebody was pushing the edge of your mouth up into a smile with their finger. If these guy were so touch-starved, they could have just said so, like sane people.

“My! What do we have here?”

You groaned, partially because everybody was really heavy and partially because you really didn’t need Diavolo to arrive just then.

“My lord, it appears we have walked in on something quite interesting.” Et tu, Barbatos?

”Indeed! Is there room for two more?”

Your “no!” was drowned out by seven resounding yeses.

#cuddle puddle! cuddle puddle! cuddle puddle!#obey me swd #obey me scenarios #obey me #obey me!#omswd #obey me headcanon #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me drabble #obey me brothers #obey me fanfiction #obey me fic #obey me brothers x mc #obey me mc #obey me brothers x reader

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keyotosprompts · 1 month

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love's possessing me ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

ur fav tropes (with variations) + microtropes

⇴ person a + person b are both looking for each other, and they wander all around the place until they finally meet in the middle, where they both crash into each other

⇴ enemies to lovers (kind of) because they're in opposite factions that feud. until one day they run into each other on accident, immediately want to kill the other, and get trapped together. slowly, they discover that their own factions are awful, and they must work together to stop injustice (mk storyline!!!)

⇴ super serious and put together b turns into pure mush at the sight of a. i'm talking the brain stopped functioning call 911 bc we think they suffered brain damage. no they're just in love with person a.

⇴ having their own secret code. whether it be hand signs behind their backs, secret looks, or secret touches—as long as it's a secret then i will eat it up.

⇴ getting so tired that person b falls and person a has to catch them. person b ends up laying their head on person a's shoulder, and person a is now stuck with person b

⇴ "i'm not falling in love" and they fall the hardest (idc how used it is i will eat it up until i die)

⇴ person b admiring how person a brightens up any room when they get excited. "the look of love" as some would call it

⇴ two people that help each other heal. they've both had rough pasts, and when they meet each other—initially they hate it but—things start to mend (hometown cha cha cha anyone???)

⇴ banter and teasing at first meeting, but the more they get to know each other, the more they begin to connect.

⇴ person a + person b fighting over who has to sleep on the couch (they're staying at the other person's house), until they both agree on sleeping in the same bed together

⇴ friends to lovers but the other party did not consider them friends. (yikesssss)

⇴ "you lied to me! you kept lying straight to my face! and you expect me to forgive you?" "what are you talking about?! did you never get my letter?" "what letter?" (oh ur cooked)

⇴ "you deserve better than me." "that's not your decision to make, that's mine."

⇴ person a literally thinking they're the worst person in the world, and then there's person b, who can fight through the darkness and find the light

⇴ "you wouldn't understand!" "then tell me. i just want to listen."

⇴ person a's overworking themselves, so person b has to manually close their computer and put away their work and force them to sleep

⇴ person a stays up for person b to get home, but falls asleep. person b takes a ton of photos of them and then carries them to bed (and joins them later snuggling them ofc)

hey guys! keyotos here. this is a little out of my lane but i created this post for my writing event on my writing blog. but anyone else, feel free to use these and lmk if u guys like content similar to this!

#keyotosprompts #fluff prompts ⋆˚✿˖°#angst prompts ⋆⑅˚₊#writeblr #writing #writing prompts #otp prompts #otp writing #imagine your otp #otp prompt #prompts #story prompt #creative writing #dialogue prompts #writing inspiration #keyotos 1k event

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beatrice-otter · 16 days

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I’ll be honest, when one party’s aiding and abetting the genocide and the other’s outright gonna kill all my friends, I don’t really care if the fascists “win”. They’ve won already.

You know who would be delighted to hear that? Trump and Putin. The US far right and the Russian government have poured lots of time, effort, and money over the last decade+ into convincing US leftists and liberals that things are hopeless, there's no point in even trying to make things better, and the Democrats and Republicans are functionally interchangeable. They do this because one of the easiest ways for them to win is if the left gives up and stops trying. Every person on the left they can convince to give up in despair brings them closer to complete control. Defeatism on the left actively supports victory on the right.

I think your statement is wrong on a number of levels, both factual and emotional. It comes from not understanding what the actual options are for the US government and the President specifically, either at home or abroad. And it will allow actual fascism to flourish and make the world far worse than it is now.

On an emotional level, the way to address this is to stop doomscrolling. Stop focusing on the worst things happening in the world. Don't ignore them! but don't let them consume you. Start looking for the things that are going well. Find places in your community that you can get involved in making things better. Even if it's only on a small scale like volunteering in a soup kitchen or homeless shelter, it will help you realize that you aren't helpless, that there are things that can be done to make the world a better place. Stay informed about things on a local, national, and international level, but limit how much time and attention you give to things that depress you that you can't affect. Instead of sitting there thinking about all the ways the world sucks and how awful things are, look for things you can do that are productive, and then do them. You'll feel better and you will have made your corner of the world a little better. And you will be a lot less likely to unintentionally fall into the despair, nihilism, and passivity that the fascists want you to be consumed by.

Always remember that the worlds problems are not resting solely on your shoulders, or solely on America's shoulders, and neither is the hope of fixing them. Everyone has things that we can do to make the world a better place, but there are also things that are beyond our control. We can control what we do; we cannot control what others do. We can and should try to make the world a better place, but focusing on the things we can't change has no positive benefits. Focusing on things we can't change accomplishes two things: it makes you feel bad, and it stops you from doing the things you actually can do to make things better. Neither of these things is good for you or anyone else. Look for things you can do and do them. Keep informed on the things you can't change, but don't focus on them.

On a factual level, let's look at "aiding and abetting genocide," shall we?

First, it's important to remember that the US President is not the God-Emperor Of The World. The US government has limits to what it can and can't do in other countries, and both legally and practically. If the US wants to intervene in a problem in another country, there are a variety of things we can do that boil down to basically four categories. It's a lot more complex than this in practice, of course, but in general here are the categories of things we can do:

Send in the troops. Invade, either by ourselves or as part of a NATO or UN operation. (Or maybe just send in a CIA wetworks team to assassinate the head of state.) I hope you can see the moral problems with this option, and also, we've done this a shitton of times over the course of the 20th Century and pretty much every time we've done it, we've made an already awful situation worse. On a moral level, it's pretty bad, and on a practical level, it's worse. Sure, we could stop the immediate problem, but what then? Consider Afghanistan and Iraq. We got rid of Saddam Hussein and the Taliban, and everything went to shit, we spent twenty years occupying Afghanistan with pretty much nothing to show for it. (The Taliban is back in control of Afghanistan.) Things were worse when we left than when we arrived. So this option is pretty much off the table (or should be).

Diplomatic pressure. Now, the thing is, they're a sovereign nation, they don't have to listen to us if they don't want to. We have a lot of things we can leverage--including financial aid--but the only way to force them to do what we want is to invade and conquer, and that only works temporarily. Since we can't force, we have to persuade. This requires us to maintain our existing relationship with the country in question, and possibly strengthen it, because that relationship is what we're leveraging to try and influence them to do what we want them to do. If we do not maintain our relationship, they have no reason to listen to us.

Cut ties and go home. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things and we wash our hands of the whole situation. This keeps our own hands lily-white and pure, but it also means we have zero leverage to work on any kind of a diplomatic solution. They have no reason to listen to us or care about what we think. We can pat ourselves on the back for doing the right thing, but we destroy our own ability to influence anything. Not just now, but also in the future. Let's say the current crisis ends, and then ten years later there's another crisis. If we want to have any effect then, we would have to start from square one to start building a relationship. Cutting ties would be great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, and there are times when it's the only option, but it should be a last resort. If there is any hope of being able to influence things for the better this will destroy it at least temporarily.

Cut ties and impose sanctions. Break off any existing relationship and support, loudly proclaim that they're awful and doing awful things, but also use the might of the American economy to isolate and punish them. We've done this a lot over the 20th Century, too, and it has never actually resulted in the country in question buckling down and toeing the line we want them to. What happens is the sanctioned country has an economic shock (how long it lasts and how bad it gets depends on a lot of factors) and then pulls themselves back together economically, except this time they're more self-sufficient and less reliant on international trade and financial networks. They tell themselves that America is evil and the cause of all their problems, and so not only do they not listen to us, they actively hate us. And they have fewer international relationships, so fewer reasons to care about what the international community thinks about them. So they're most likely to double down on whatever it is they're doing that we don't like. This one is completely counterproductive and utterly stupid. It's great for making Americans feel better about ourselves, but if we actually care about being able to use our influence for good (or, at least, to mitigate evil) this option shoots us in the foot. It encourages other nations to do the very thing we're trying to stop them from doing.

So, with those four options in mind, both option one (invasion/assassination) and option four (sanctions) are off the table for being immoral and counterproductive. That leaves "breaking our relationship and going home" and "using diplomatic pressure" as our only two viable options.

Biden has chosen option two, diplomatic pressure. Yes, he and our government have continued financial support for Israel ... but with strings attached. They have put limits on it that have never been put on any US foreign aid before. They have taken legal steps to lay the groundwork to target Israeli settlers (i.e. Israeli citizens who confiscate Palestinian homes and businesses). We've been hearing reports for months that Benjamin Netanyahu (Israeli Prime Minister, and a far-right-wing demagogue) hates Biden's guts, because Biden is pressuring him to stop the genocide and work towards peace. Biden is maintaining the relationship, and he's using that relationship to try and influence things to curb the violence and pave the way for a just peace settlement of some sort. Biden has also mentioned the possibility of a two state solution where Palestine becomes its own completely separate country. That's huge, because up until this point the US position has always been that Israel is the only possible legitimate nation in that territory. If Biden stopped US support for Israel, it wouldn't force Israel to stop what it's doing ... but it would let them ignore us. It would remove any leverage or influence we might have.

Biden's hands aren't clean. But the only way for them to be clean would be to also give up any chance of influencing the situation or working to protect Palestinians now or in the future. Only time will tell if it works, but I personally would rather have someone who tried and failed than someone who didn't even try. You might disagree about whether this is the right course of action, and there's a lot of room for honest disagreement about the issue (there's a lot of nuances that I'm glossing over or ignoring). But please do acknowledge that Biden isn't supporting Israel because he supports genocide; he's doing it so that he can continue to maintain diplomatic pressure on Israel to stop the violence.

Which brings us back to "aiding and abetting genocide." Trump is not like Biden. Trump is good friends with Netanyahu and backs Israel to the hilt. Trump thinks that all Arabs are terrorists (and all Muslims are terrorists) and genuinely believes the world would be a better place with them dead. Biden is continuing to support Israel, but using that support as influence to get them to stop or slow down. Trump would be using that influence to encourage them.

And those are the two choices. Someone who is trying to curb the genocide, and someone who actively supports it.

I really hope you can see the significant and substantial difference between those two positions.

But let's say that you're right and Biden's policy towards Israel and Palestine is every bit as bad as Trump's would be. If there was nothing to choose between them on foreign policy grounds, there would still be a shitton to choose between them on domestic policy grounds. You admit that the right wants to kill your friends, and yet you don't seem to think that stopping them from killing your friends might be a good thing to do.

"We can't save Palestinians, so we might as well let Republicans destroy the rights, lives, and futures of LGBTQ+ people, women, people of color, people with disabilities, poor people, non-Christians, and anyone else they don't like." "We can't save Palestinians, so why bother to try to save the people we might actually be able to save." "We can't save Palestinians right now, so there's no point in trying to build up a longer-term political bloc that might drag US politics to the left over the long run."

Do you get why there's a problem with that line of thought?

#us politics

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lightsoutletsgo · 2 months

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girl dad — mv.1

pairing: dad!max verstappen x mom!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, obvs mentions of babies and kids, fluff, the briefest flash of angst and nostalgia hi loves! so this is the result of the absolute brainrot me and @verstappen-cult got stuck in yesterday discussing how max is such a girl dad. I actually really like this one so I hope you like it too! as always please leave any feedback, I always love reading the tags to find out how I can improve my work and what you want to see more of! happy reading! mimi 🤍

Max groaned softly as a heavy weight suddenly landed on his chest. He opened his eyes and saw a perfect reflection of them staring back at him. He couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face as his arms wrapped around his daughter and he cuddled her close to him, “Good morning little flower,” his voice was gentle and low so as to not wake you up, “did you have exciting dreams last night?” His hand smoothed over Esmee’s hair as she nodded, arm wrapping round her soft plush bunny even tighter as she curled up on his chest. “Well I’m glad to hear that…” They were both still and silent for a moment and Max thought she may have even drifted back off, until she popped up, sitting on his tummy, her hand bringing her bunny’s ear up to her face to gently rub it across her cheek in a soothing motion. Max’s heart clenched as he stared at his baby girl, where was the time going? Just yesterday it seemed like she was still a tiny newborn that he cradled so carefully yet awkwardly.

“Mama sleep?” The two year old pointed to you lying next to him, your head resting against his shoulder as your chest rose and fell steadily. Max nodded and over exaggerated placing a finger to his lips in a ‘shh’ motion. The toddler giggled, a sweet sound that made Max smile. Max looked at the clock that sat on his bedside table and noticed how early it was and how dark it still was outside, “It’s so early flower! The sun is still sleeping.” Esmee pouted in that sweet funny way only toddlers can and pointed to her tummy, “Hungry papa!” Max made a noise of understanding and scooped her up in his arms, standing and silently padding across the room to leave you sleep. He carried her through the hallways of your family home in Monaco and he relished in the way Esmee snuggled into his neck, finding comfort and warmth in the way he felt each of her short little breaths against his neck. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and slowed his pace down a little, enjoying the time he had. It was quiet, barely five in the morning, the sun only just beginning to creep up in the sky. The traffic was still light outside, just the hiss of the garbage truck and the occasional siren in the distance. He softly strolled down the hallway, hand rubbing and down Esmee’s back in the way he’d done ever since the first time he held her.

As he got to the kitchen, he placed Esmee down in her chair, not a baby high chair anymore but taller than the rest of your chairs to accommodate her short body. She let out a whine at losing his body heat and attention and he turned back to see her holding her arms out to him, begging to be picked back up. ‘Like mother like daughter’ Max thought, knowing full well he was unable to say no to either of you. He picked her up and placed her over one arm, tickling her tummy with his free hand when her gleeful giggle sounded around the room knowing she’d gotten her own way. Max knew that anyone who looked at him for just a few seconds would see that he was completely wrapped around his daughter’s tiny finger. Just as Mama and Papa were her whole world, she was theirs.

“What should we have for breakfast Es hm?” Max opened the fridge and looked at the contents, thinking what he could make for all of you, “should we make some for Mama too?” Esmee nodded, excited as Max mentions you. “Panpan papa!” Max laughed as she did her best to say the word ‘pancake’, “Okay then flower, pancakes it is!” Max had watched you make them so many times he was pretty confident in the recipe, knowing it would be in your recipe book on the island if he really needed guidance. Esmee clapped her hands and Max sat her on the counter next to where he was standing, “You want to help?” She nodded and a serious expression took over her face, Max smiled and kissed her forehead before he gathered the ingredients he needed from various cupboards and the fridge. “Okay then flower, let’s do this!” Max pulled the measuring cups from the drawer in front of him and held the correct one out to Esmee. She took it, her pudgy little legs kicking in excitement as her face lit up in glee. Max held out the bag of flour and wrapped his hand around hers to help her dig the right amount out of the bag. He let her tip it into the bowl on her own, her tongue poking out in concentration. Once she was finished, she beamed up at him and he gave a cheer, encouraging her for her efforts, “Good job flower!” She practically bounced on the counter, excited to be making pancakes with her Papa and for a moment Max almost wished you were awake to take a picture of this moment, so that even when he was old and his memory started fading, he would still be able to remember.

He pulled himself back to the present, not wanting to miss looking at her for a second. He was unable to help the way yet another fond smile creeps across his face as he watched her gasp as she spilt some of the sugar on the counter top but he was quick to reassure her, “It’s okay flower! Mess is okay sometimes.” Her worried expression fell and she was back to staring at the bowl intently as she added the next ingredient. Max handed Esmee an egg, “You’ve done this bit with Mama before, haven’t you flower?” Esmee nodded but still looked at him and held the egg back out to him, “Papa help please?” He leaned down to rub his nose against hers and she giggled trying to push his face away, “Papa tickles!” Max relented and placed his hands over hers to gently tap the egg against the counter and add it to the bowl. He disposed of the shell before helping Esmee lift the milk carton to tip it into the bowl. When they’d added all the ingredients, Max grabbed a whisk and turns to the toddler, “Should Papa do this part?” Esmee nods, “Papa strong!” “Mhmm, Papa is suuuuper strong!” Esmee shrieked with delight as Max threw her into the air once to prove his point before placing her back down, hand ruffling her hair before he began to mix the ingredients together.

Esmee grabbed her bunny and Max gave a fond smile, remembering how it was one of the first things you’d picked out together when you were expecting her. Max allowed himself to reminisce as he remembered how he had been so desperate to have a son, he’d been so sure Esmee would be a boy. He had even told you that he hoped it wasn’t a girl, a point you hadn’t taken too kindly to and had quickly shut down. Max could still remember the conversation like it was yesterday… “Max you cannot be serious.” Your hands were planted firmly on your hips as you shot a cold glare at him and he cowered ever so slightly, “Schat I just meant that-” “No no, Max. I understood what you meant perfectly.” Max was silent, knowing he had no defence against you, “You want a boy to carry on the Verstappen name? You think a daughter can’t go into Formula One? You think a daughter won’t do great things and make you proud just because she’s a woman? What about me? Do you think less of me because I’m a woman?” Max sighed as your ranting stopped.

“I’m worried about what the world of F1 would do to her…” You pulled back, having never heard him speak so quietly or softly before, he sank down onto the couch, “You know how horrible it can be…” You nodded understandingly, “I do, yes…” “Then you know what kind of things she will have to face.” You took a seat next to him and rubbed his back soothingly, “But she will have you to have her back and protect her from as much of it as you can…” You did your best to calm his mind and he took a deep breath, “I know schat… but also… I don’t know how to be a girl dad! I don’t know how to do hair or how to play with barbies or how to teach her about…” his voice quietened, “periods…” You couldn’t help the way a laugh left you and Max whined at you, “Stop laughing! I’m serious!”

You planted a kiss against his cheek and sat back against the couch, inviting him to lay his head in your lap near your tummy, something that had become your new routine every evening. Max plopped down and your hand immediately started playing with his hair as he rested one hand on your bump. “I know it’s scary… but you have plenty of time to learn as you go! You’re bound to make mistakes love, we both are… she’ll teach you how she wants to play with you and hey, maybe she’ll be into cars more than barbies!” Max kissed your bump and smiled, “And I think you should probably leave the period talk to me…” He laughed heartily and nodded before turning to your bump once more, “Hi baby… It’s me… your Papa… W-we don’t know what you are yet,” He looked up at you and you nodded at him reassuringly, “but whether you turn out to be a boy or girl we’ll love you so so much. We already love you so much.” You hand continued through his hair as his eyes closed, “You’re going to love being a girl dad…” One eye cracked open as he stared at you, “You sound sure it’s a girl?” “Call it pregnant woman intuition…”

“Mama!” A call of your name and Esmee’s hand patting his arm pulled him from his memories and he turned to see you watching in the doorway, the most peaceful and loving expression on your face, you crossed the kitchen having been caught and swept your toddler up in your arms, blowing raspberries on her tummy and feeling your heart squeeze at her little giggles, “Good morning flower!” You sat her up in your arms and her little hands held your face as she gave you a sloppy kiss on the cheek, you laughed and walked back to the counter, gently placing her back down, “What are you doing with Papa hmm?” Esmee pointed at the bowl with wide eyes, “Panpan Mama!” You gasped and widened your own eyes, mimicking her excitement, “You’re making pancakes? Mama’s favourite?” Esmee nodded and her little legs started kicking again. You turned to Max and placed your chin on his shoulder, “Good morning handsome.” he turned his head to kiss your forehead, “Good morning schat.” He put the whisk down and turned to pull you into his arms, “What time did she wake up?” You pulled away from him and headed to the fridge to get some milk for her sippy cup, “Around five…” Max winced and you smiled, “Sorry I stayed asleep,” Max waved your apology away, “Don’t apologise, you need the sleep schatje.”

His eyes fell to the slight swell of your stomach and thanked every star above that he was lucky enough to have a beautiful wife, a sweet toddler and one more on the way. You bustled around the kitchen, tidying here and there as Max started cooking breakfast. You crossed back to Esmee to give her her sippy cup and she patted your tummy gently as you stood in front of her, “A’morning baby!” You felt a small flutter in your tummy and you booped her nose, “Baby says ‘good morning Esmee!’”

Max felt a huge smile fill his face as he took in the interaction next to him, he turned to you, crossing his arms as he waited for the next pancake to cook before he flipped it over, “You know… I really won’t mind if this one is a girl too…” You looked at him from where you stood and raised one eyebrow with a smirk, “Oh no?” Max let out a breath of laughter, flippin the pancake in the pan, “Yeah yeah, go ahead and laugh…” You shook your head, “Told you you’d love being a girl dad…” Max tipped the cooked pancake on the plate, turned the stove off and crossed the kitchen to wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder so he could watch Esmee tucking into her pancakes with all the vigour a hungry two year old could muster, his voice was quiet, “And what’s your pregnant woman's intuition saying about this one then hmm?” he kissed your neck softly and your head tipped back with a happy hum, “Max Emilian Verstappen, you are destined to be a girl dad…” He laughed and kissed your neck once more.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

And five months later when Anneleise is born, Max stares at her in awe with tears in his eyes as this tiny precious bundle is carefully placed into his arms, “Hi baby girl, I’m your Papa…” Her only response is a big yawn for such a small person and an even bigger stretch as she nestles into his chest, recognising his voice. He isn’t sure why you’re suddenly chuckling to yourself but when he looks up, you’ve got tears in your own eyes as you film him sitting in the hospital chair doing skin to skin with your new daughter. It’s only then that he realises he’s crying. He can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed, instead, looking back down at Anneleise and softly tracing her tiny features. You watch on and smile, noting how he’s much more assured in how he holds this baby, how he talks to her and you know that just like when Esmee was born, he is instantly wrapped around her finger. You know that just like the promises he made about protecting Esmee and always being there for her, ring true for this daughter as well. You know you’re looking at a man who will attend tea parties, drive his girls to the karting track and to ballet lessons, will do his best to braid their hair, will sing disney songs in the car and paint their nails to the best of his abilities. You know that when your girls get older he will buy them ice cream after a breakup, teach them how to drive, help them revise for exams, support them in their dreams and cry when he watches them get married. Because forever and always, Max is a girl dad. And later on when Max watches the video you had filmed earlier - and every time after that - he hears your voice, making him smile,

“Max Verstappen, you are such a girl dad.”

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