#And I can’t ever talk back to her or else it means I hate her apparently

[therealsirsticker]

uggggghhhhhh UGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH my fucking mom has been getting into goddamn ai art lately. And I can only offer my weakest and most casual points against it and only vaguely disapprove of it or else she’s gonna take it super way personally and we’d enter another Cold War argument and I am NOT dealing with another one of those. God, it makes me wanna chew my hands off. She’s so fucking annoying sometimes, I swear. No, I’m not going to coo and laugh at the shitty ai generated image of a cat in a pumpkin, I’m going to make my best casual discomforted sneer at it. And if I get into the actual problems with ai she’s going to get all defensive and refuse to admit she’s wrong. I don’t even think she’s done bad in using it! But she’s going to accuse me of thinking she’s a bad person for it! I know her! I REFUSE to just smile and nod though. I also refuse to get into another huge blow up cold fight with her again. So I will just continue to do my best casual discomforted sneer. God, I hate her sometimes.

[pucksandpower]

The Perfect Mate

Day 28 → A/B/O 💋 Oscar Piastri

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent, and breeding

Kinktober Masterlist

The news comes like a sudden storm, the kind that rolls in on a summer day when the skies were blue just moments before. You’re in the kitchen, setting the table for dinner. Your mother is at the stove, stirring something that smells faintly of rosemary and garlic, a comforting scent that usually makes you feel at home. But tonight, it’s different.

You can feel it in the air, the way your father is pacing by the window, his hands tucked into his pockets like he’s trying to keep something inside. Your mother’s voice is too steady when she finally speaks.

“We got a call today,” she says, without turning around. The spoon in her hand trembles slightly. “From the school.”

The school. The words drop into the room like stones, rippling through the quiet. You know what she’s going to say next, even before she says it. You’ve been dreading this conversation for weeks, ever since your first heat hit you like a freight train, your body burning with a fever you couldn’t understand.

“They’ve made a decision,” she continues, and now she turns, her eyes finding yours across the room. “They think it’s best if you … attend a different school. A special one.”

“A special school,” you echo, the words hollow in your mouth. You know what she means, even if she doesn’t say it outright. A school for omegas. The kind of place where they send girls like you, girls who’ve just discovered they aren’t like everyone else.

You stand there, frozen, while your father finally stops pacing. He comes to stand beside your mother, his face tight with the strain of holding back his thoughts. You’ve seen that look before, on the faces of other parents in town when they talk about “those schools,” the ones far away where no one can see what really happens inside. But now, it’s your parents standing there, and it’s you they’re talking about sending away.

“I don’t want to go,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I want to stay here.”

Your mother sighs, a soft, defeated sound, as she wipes her hands on a dish towel. “It’s not safe for you here anymore, sweetheart. Not now that you’ve … presented.”

Presented. It’s such a clinical word for something that feels anything but. You feel exposed, like your skin has been peeled back to reveal something raw and vulnerable underneath. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to protect yourself from the inevitability of it all.

“But what about my friends? What about school here?” Your voice cracks, and you hate how small you sound, how desperate.

“It’s only for a little while,” your father says, stepping forward. He’s trying to sound reassuring, but there’s an edge of worry in his voice that betrays him. “Just until you’ve had the training you need. Then you can come back.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t need training. I’m fine the way I am.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N,” your mother says gently, moving closer. She reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away. “This is for your own good. There are things you need to learn … things we can’t teach you.”

“Like what?” You snap, anger flaring up to replace the fear. “How to be an obedient little omega? How to bow down to an alpha and let them control my life?”

“Y/N,” your father warns, but there’s no real force behind it. He’s just as lost as you are in this moment, and you can see it in the way his shoulders sag, the way his gaze shifts to the floor.

You look between the two of them, your parents who have always been your rock, and feel a chasm opening up between you. This is the moment when everything changes, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

“When do I have to go?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your mother hesitates, glancing at your father before she answers. “Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. The word echoes in your mind, a death knell for everything you’ve known. There’s no time to say goodbye to your friends, no time to prepare yourself for what’s coming. It’s happening too fast, like a tidal wave sweeping you off your feet.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. You barely taste the food on your plate, pushing it around with your fork until your mother finally sighs and takes it away. You retreat to your room after that, curling up on your bed with your thoughts spinning like a storm.

The reality of it all doesn’t hit you until much later, when the house is dark and silent. You lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of what’s to come pressing down on your chest.

You’re leaving. You’re being sent away because you’re different, because you’re an omega. The word still feels foreign on your tongue, something that doesn’t belong to you. You’ve heard stories, of course, whispered in the halls at school, but they were always about other people, distant and unconnected to your life.

But now it’s you. You’re the one being whispered about, the one whose life is being uprooted. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

When morning comes, it’s like watching someone else’s life unfold in slow motion. Your mother helps you pack, her hands gentle as she folds your clothes and tucks them into the suitcase. Your father lingers in the doorway, trying to find the right words to say, but nothing comes out.

You don’t say much either. There’s nothing left to say. You’re numb, moving through the motions without really feeling anything. It’s easier that way, easier than letting the fear and anger take over.

The drive to the school is long and silent. Your parents don’t turn on the radio, and the only sound is the hum of the car’s engine and the occasional rustle of paper as your father checks the directions. You stare out the window, watching the world blur by in a wash of green and gray.

When you finally arrive, the school is nothing like you imagined. It’s a sprawling estate, with tall iron gates and manicured lawns that stretch out as far as the eye can see. It looks more like a prison than a school, and the sight of it makes your stomach churn.

Your mother parks the car, and you sit there for a moment, staring up at the imposing building. It feels like a bad dream, one you can’t wake up from.

“Are you ready?” Your father asks, his voice quiet.

You nod, even though you’re not. But what choice do you have?

They walk you to the gates, your suitcase rolling behind you on its tiny wheels. A woman in a crisp uniform meets you there, her smile too bright, too practiced. She introduces herself, but you barely catch her name. It doesn’t matter.

“This way, Y/N,” she says, leading you through the gates. Your parents follow behind, their footsteps heavy on the gravel path.

Inside, the school is just as cold and unwelcoming as the outside. The corridors are wide and echoing, with polished floors that reflect the fluorescent lights above. The woman leads you to an office, where you’re asked to sit while she speaks with your parents in hushed tones.

You sit there, staring at the walls, trying to hold yourself together. You can hear snippets of their conversation, words like “curriculum,” “discipline,” and “safety,” but they all blur together in a meaningless jumble.

Finally, your parents return. Your mother’s eyes are red-rimmed, and your father’s face is pale. They both hug you tightly, whispering words of reassurance that feel empty and hollow.

“We’ll come visit,” your mother says, her voice trembling. “As soon as we can.”

You nod, but you don’t really believe it. You can see the fear in their eyes, the uncertainty of what lies ahead. They don’t know any more than you do.

When they finally leave, it feels like the ground has been pulled out from under you. You’re alone, in a strange place that feels more like a cage than a school. You want to run, to escape, but there’s nowhere to go.

The woman who met you at the gate returns, her smile still fixed in place. She leads you to your dorm room, a small, sterile space with a single bed and a desk. Your suitcase is placed at the foot of the bed, a reminder of the life you’ve left behind.

“Get some rest,” she says, her tone brisk and efficient. “Tomorrow is a big day.”

You don’t respond. There’s nothing to say. She leaves you there, closing the door softly behind her, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

You sit on the bed, staring at the blank walls, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. You’re an omega. You’re in a school for omegas. And there’s no going back.

The tears come then, hot and silent, sliding down your cheeks as you curl up on the bed. You don’t know how long you lie there, crying until there are no tears left. You feel empty, hollowed out by the weight of it all.

Eventually, exhaustion pulls you under, and you drift into a restless sleep, your dreams filled with shadows and echoes of the life you’ve lost.

***

The days at the school have a way of blending together, each one indistinguishable from the next. Morning rolls into afternoon, which slides into evening, and soon enough, another day is gone. You’ve learned not to think too hard about time, how long you’ve been here, or how many more days you’ll have to endure. It’s easier that way.

There was a time when you counted the days, marking each one on a small calendar tucked away in your drawer. You kept track of your parents’ visits, circled in red ink, little reminders that they hadn’t forgotten you. But as the months turned into years, the red circles became fewer and farther between until they disappeared altogether.

You can barely remember the last time you saw their faces, the way your mother used to smooth your hair back with gentle fingers, or the way your father’s hugs felt strong and safe. They promised it would only be for a little while, just until you had learned what you needed to know, but that promise dissolved like sugar in water, leaving a bitter taste behind.

Now, all you know is this place, the routine that keeps you tethered to some semblance of sanity. Wake up at dawn. Breakfast in the dining hall. Classes in the morning — Etiquette, Obedience, Mating Practices — each lesson designed to mold you into the perfect omega. Lunch, more classes, then an hour of exercise before dinner. Evenings are quiet, filled with studying or silent contemplation in your room. Lights out at nine, and then it all begins again.

You’ve learned how to be a good omega. It’s second nature now, a reflex as automatic as breathing. You know how to keep your head down, how to smile politely, how to answer questions with soft, submissive tones. You know how to hide your emotions, how to tuck away the anger and fear that once simmered just beneath the surface. Those feelings have dulled over time, like a blade worn down from overuse.

The other girls are much the same. You’ve made a few friends — if you can call them that — but it’s hard to be close to anyone here. Everyone is too focused on survival, on making it through another day without drawing unwanted attention. You share polite conversations, exchange small smiles in passing, but there’s an unspoken understanding that it’s every omega for herself.

It’s a Tuesday evening when everything changes. You’re gathered in the dining hall, the long tables lined with girls dressed in identical uniforms, their heads bowed over plates of bland, tasteless food. The room is filled with the clatter of utensils and the murmur of quiet conversation, the same as it always is.

But tonight, there’s a different energy in the air, a tension that makes your skin prickle with unease. You notice it in the way the other girls are sitting a little straighter, their eyes darting toward the head of the room where the headmistress stands, her sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd.

You don’t look directly at her — no one ever does — but you can feel her presence like a weight pressing down on your shoulders. The headmistress is a tall, severe woman with iron-gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. She commands the room with an authority that brooks no defiance, and when she speaks, everyone listens.

“Good evening, girls,” she begins, her voice cutting through the low hum of conversation like a knife. The room falls silent immediately, all eyes fixed on their plates as she continues. “I have an important announcement to make.”

You steal a glance at the girl sitting next to you, a slight, mousy-haired omega named Emily. Her hands are clenched in her lap, her knuckles white, and you can see the same fear mirrored in her wide eyes.

The headmistress pauses, letting the silence stretch out until it’s almost unbearable. Finally, she speaks again, her tone measured and calm. “As you all know, we are approaching a very special time of year. In just a few weeks, we will be hosting our annual adoption day.”

A collective shiver runs through the room, a ripple of unease that you can feel in your bones. Adoption day. The words hang heavy in the air, charged with a meaning that everyone understands but no one dares to speak aloud.

“This is a significant event,” the headmistress continues, her gaze sweeping the room. “It is a time when alphas from all over the continent come to our school to choose which one of you will become their mate.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your stomach twisting into knots. You’ve heard about adoption day, of course. It’s the day every omega dreads and hopes for in equal measure. The day when your future is decided, when you are chosen — or not — by an alpha who will take you away from this place. It’s supposed to be an honor, a privilege, but you know the truth. It’s a sentence, a life chosen for you, one you have no say in.

“Over the next few weeks,” the headmistress says, “you will be preparing for this event. You must be on your best behavior at all times. The alphas who come here expect nothing less than perfection, and it is our duty to ensure that you meet their expectations.”

She pauses, her eyes narrowing as she surveys the room. “You will be evaluated on your obedience, your manners, your appearance, and your ability to perform the duties expected of an omega. Failure to meet these standards will result in … consequences.”

The word lingers in the air, heavy with unspoken threats. You know what she means. You’ve seen what happens to the girls who fail, who don’t measure up. They’re sent away, to places even worse than this, places where omegas are little more than property, where they’re broken down until there’s nothing left of them.

You swallow hard, trying to push down the rising tide of panic. You’ve been good, you remind yourself. You’ve done everything you were supposed to do, followed every rule, learned every lesson. But the fear gnaws at you, a constant, insidious whisper in the back of your mind.

The headmistress gives a tight, satisfied nod. “I trust that you will all rise to the occasion. This is your chance to prove your worth, to show the alphas that you are deserving of their attention. Do not disappoint me.”

With that, she turns and strides out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in her wake. No one moves, no one speaks, the weight of her words pressing down on all of you.

Emily is the first to break the silence, her voice trembling. “Adoption day … I thought it wasn’t for another few months.”

“They moved it up,” says another girl across the table, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s sooner this year.”

You can feel the tension in the room ratchet up another notch, the fear palpable. Everyone is thinking the same thing: sooner means less time to prepare, less time to make yourself worthy of being chosen.

“What are we going to do?” Emily asks, her voice small and shaky. “What if … what if no one picks us?”

The question hangs in the air, the unspoken fear that everyone is too afraid to voice. What if no one chooses you? What happens then?

“We just have to be perfect,” says another girl, her voice tinged with desperation. “We can’t make any mistakes. We have to be exactly what they want.”

“What if that’s not enough?” Someone else murmurs, and the question sends a chill down your spine.

You stare at your plate, your appetite long gone. The food sits untouched, congealing in the dim light of the dining hall. You know you should say something, offer some kind of reassurance, but the words stick in your throat. What can you say? How can you comfort anyone when you’re just as terrified as they are?

Instead, you focus on breathing, on keeping yourself calm. You’ve been through worse, you tell yourself. You’ve survived this place for years, learned how to navigate its dangers, how to keep your head down and stay out of trouble. You can survive this too.

But deep down, you know that this is different. This isn’t just another test or lesson. This is your future, your entire life hanging in the balance, and there’s nothing you can do to change it.

The rest of the meal passes in a tense, uncomfortable silence. No one speaks, no one even looks at each other. The only sound is the clatter of dishes as the kitchen staff clears away the plates, their movements brisk and efficient.

When the meal is finally over, you file out of the dining hall with the other girls, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. The usual chatter and laughter are absent, replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence. Everyone is lost in their own thoughts, their own fears.

Back in your room, you close the door and sink down onto the bed, your mind racing. Adoption day. The words echo in your head, a relentless drumbeat of anxiety. You try to push the thoughts away, to focus on something else, but it’s no use. The fear is too strong, too consuming.

You lie there for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, trying to calm the storm inside you. But no matter how hard you try, the fear lingers, a dark shadow that refuses to be banished.

You’re not ready for this. None of you are. But it doesn’t matter. Adoption day is coming, whether you’re ready or not.

***

Oscar Piastri doesn’t let his emotions show, not when he crosses the finish line, not even when the roar of the crowd hits him like a physical wave. It’s a monumental moment, the kind of victory that defines a career. His first win in Formula 1, and he’s only just begun. He keeps his face impassive as he steps out of the car, giving a quick nod to the team that rushes toward him. His hands are still gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving behind a strange emptiness that gnaws at him as he makes his way through the post-race chaos. Congratulations are thrown his way, hands clapping his back, but it all feels distant, like he’s watching it from somewhere else. This is supposed to be the pinnacle, the culmination of years of hard work, but instead, it feels … muted. He’s already thinking about the next race, the next victory, how he can improve.

In the quiet of the team’s private room, Zak Brown walks in, a broad smile on his face. He’s the kind of man who fills up the space just by being in it, his presence magnetic, commanding. Oscar looks up from where he’s sitting, unlacing his gloves methodically, and meets Zak’s eyes.

“Congratulations, Oscar. First of many, I’m sure.” Zak’s voice is warm, but there’s an edge to it, something unspoken hanging in the air.

“Thank you,” Oscar replies, his tone measured, controlled. He’s careful with his words, always. Never lets anything slip.

Zak takes a seat across from him, leaning back casually. There’s a glint in his eyes, something calculating. “You’ve made quite an impression today. The team is proud of you.”

Oscar nods, but he can tell there’s more coming. Zak doesn’t waste time with pleasantries unless there’s something else he wants to discuss. He waits, patient, knowing that Zak will get to the point when he’s ready.

Finally, Zak leans forward, his expression serious. “You’ve proven yourself, Oscar. And with that comes certain … privileges. Opportunities that are only available to those who reach the top.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, intrigued. He’s heard whispers of the kind of rewards that come with success, but he’s never paid them much attention. He’s focused on one thing — winning. Everything else is secondary.

Zak watches him closely, gauging his reaction. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Oscar stays silent, waiting for Zak to continue. He’s not about to show his hand, not yet.

“There’s a tradition in this sport,” Zak says slowly, choosing his words carefully. “When an alpha driver wins their first race, they’re given the chance to choose an omega. It’s a recognition of your status, your dominance. It’s something that’s been done quietly, behind closed doors, for decades.”

Oscar keeps his expression neutral, though his interest is piqued. He’s aware of the dynamics in the world, the power and control that come with being an alpha. But this — this is new. He’s never been one to indulge in the usual trappings of success. He’s always been too focused, too driven to let anything distract him. But this … this is different.

Zak smiles, seeing the curiosity flicker in Oscar’s eyes. “You’ve earned this, Oscar. You’re one of the best, and you deserve the best. That’s why I’m telling you about the upcoming adoption day.”

Oscar’s gaze sharpens. “Adoption day?”

“It’s an event held at the most prestigious omega training school in Europe,” Zak explains. “Only the top omegas are put up for adoption, the ones who have been trained to perfection. They’re chosen by alphas who have proven themselves — like you. It’s not something that’s widely advertised, but those in the know understand its significance.”

There’s a pause as Oscar processes the information. The idea of choosing an omega, someone trained specifically for him, tailored to his needs, is both intriguing and unsettling. He’s always been in control, always made his own decisions, but this is different. This is a life he’s being asked to shape, to take responsibility for.

“What makes this school so special?” He asks, his voice calm, steady.

Zak leans back, crossing his arms. “The omegas there are trained from a young age. They’re taught everything — how to please their alpha, how to be obedient, how to fulfill their roles perfectly. They’re the best of the best, Oscar. There’s no risk, no uncertainty. Any omega you choose from that school will be exactly what you need.”

Oscar considers this. The idea of having an omega, someone who’s been trained to understand him, to know what he needs without him having to say it … there’s a certain appeal in that. He’s always been surrounded by people who expect something from him, who look to him for leadership, guidance. But this would be different. This would be someone who exists solely for him, who understands her place.

“There’s no obligation,” Zak adds, watching Oscar carefully. “If you’re not interested, you can walk away. But if you are … it’s a rare opportunity.”

Oscar doesn’t respond immediately. He’s weighing the options, the consequences. He’s always been careful, methodical in his decisions. But he can’t deny the temptation, the curiosity that’s starting to take root.

“When is it?” He finally asks, his voice giving nothing away.

Zak’s smile widens, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. “In a few weeks. We can arrange everything for you — discretion guaranteed. You won’t have to worry about the media or anyone else finding out. This is strictly between you and the school.”

Oscar nods slowly, his mind already working through the possibilities. It’s a lot to take in, but he’s not one to shy away from something just because it’s unfamiliar. If anything, the challenge of it, the control it represents, is what draws him in.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, his tone decisive, leaving no room for further discussion.

Zak rises, clearly satisfied with Oscar’s response. “Take your time. There’s no rush. But remember, opportunities like this don’t come around often.”

Oscar stands as well, shaking Zak’s hand. “I understand. Thank you.”

As Zak leaves the room, Oscar is left alone with his thoughts. The noise of the celebrations outside is a distant hum, and he finds himself pacing, the adrenaline from the race still thrumming through his veins.

He’s never been one for the typical alpha-omega dynamics. He’s always valued independence, his ability to navigate the world on his terms. But this … this is something else. The idea of having an omega, someone trained to understand him, to be exactly what he needs, it’s both thrilling and terrifying.

He knows what’s expected of him. As an alpha, as a champion, there’s a certain image to uphold, certain roles to fulfill. But he’s never been one to simply do what’s expected. He’s always pushed the boundaries, challenged the norms.

Oscar stops pacing, his mind made up. He’ll go to this adoption day. He’ll see for himself what this school has to offer. But he won’t make any decisions until he’s certain. This is too important, too personal to rush into.

But deep down, he knows that the decision is already half-made. The idea has taken root, and it’s only a matter of time before it blooms into something more.

With a final glance around the empty room, Oscar leaves, heading back to the celebrations. There’s still a victory to enjoy, a race to celebrate. But in the back of his mind, the thought of adoption day lingers, a tantalizing possibility that he can’t quite shake.

As the night wears on, surrounded by his team, the media, the fans, Oscar can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have an omega by his side. Not just any omega, but one who’s been trained specifically for him, someone who understands him in a way no one else does.

The idea is intoxicating, and for the first time in a long while, Oscar feels something stir inside him — a hunger, a desire for more than just victory on the track. He wants control, he wants power, and maybe, just maybe, he wants someone to share it with.

But not just anyone. It has to be the right omega. The perfect one.

As the night winds down, and the celebrations give way to the quiet of his hotel room, Oscar lies awake, his mind racing. He’s never been one to second-guess his decisions, and he knows this won’t be any different.

He’s going to that adoption day. And he’s going to find the omega that’s meant for him.

***

The morning is cold, colder than it has any right to be for early September. You’re standing in line with the other omegas, every one of you wearing the same pristine white dresses that flutter slightly in the breeze. The sun hasn’t fully risen, and the world is cloaked in that quiet, expectant blue that only exists before dawn. You can feel the nervous energy crackling in the air, though no one dares to show it.

You’ve been preparing for this day for as long as you can remember. Every lesson, every order, every correction has led to this moment, and yet you feel more like an imposter than ever. Your hands tremble slightly as you clasp them in front of you, willing the nerves to subside. You can’t afford to look weak now, not when everything is at stake.

The headmistress is pacing in front of the line, her sharp eyes taking in each omega with a practiced gaze. She’s dressed impeccably, as always, her posture a perfect representation of control. “Remember, girls,” she says, her voice slicing through the silence, “today is your chance to prove your worth. You’ve been trained for this moment. Do not embarrass yourselves, or this school.”

You swallow hard, keeping your gaze straight ahead, though every instinct is screaming at you to run. You can’t, though. There’s no place to go, and you know it. This is your life now, and you have to make the best of it.

The first of the alphas start to arrive, their footsteps echoing ominously as they enter the grand hall. You can hear their low voices, the murmur of conversation as they evaluate the line of omegas, as if you’re nothing more than merchandise on display. You keep your eyes down, as you’ve been taught, but your heart is hammering so loudly you’re sure everyone can hear it.

One by one, they move past you, some taking a moment to appraise you before moving on, others barely sparing you a glance. The tension builds with each alpha that passes, your nerves fraying more and more. You want to shrink away, to make yourself invisible, but you know that’s the last thing you should do. Instead, you focus on keeping your breathing steady, on maintaining the composed exterior you’ve been drilled to perfect.

Then you hear the headmistress speak, her voice softer, almost deferential. “Mr. Piastri,” she says, and you feel your breath catch.

You’ve heard whispers about him, the young alpha who’s taken the racing world by storm, his name a force to be reckoned with even outside the omega circles. You’ve imagined what he might be like, but nothing could prepare you for the reality.

You feel his presence before you see him, the weight of his gaze as he approaches. There’s something different about the way he moves, the way the other alphas seem to step aside for him, as if acknowledging his dominance without a word. He stops in front of you, and for the first time, you dare to lift your eyes.

Oscar Piastri is taller than you expected, his presence somehow larger than life. His face is expressionless, unreadable, but his eyes … his eyes are sharp, assessing, as if he’s looking right through you, stripping away every defense you’ve carefully built.

He says nothing at first, just studies you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you’ve never experienced before. The world around you seems to fade, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of silence.

You don’t move, don’t breathe, barely even blink. Your whole body is tense, waiting for his judgment, his decision. You don’t know what to expect, and the uncertainty is unbearable.

Then, slowly, he reaches out, his fingers brushing your chin. The touch is light, almost delicate, but it sends a shiver down your spine. He tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze fully. There’s a pause, a moment where everything hangs in the balance, and you feel like you might break under the pressure.

But you don’t. You can’t. You’ve been trained for this, prepared for this moment, and you will not fail.

Oscar’s eyes search yours, and you wonder what he’s looking for. Strength? Weakness? He’s so close now that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, and it’s dizzying, overwhelming in a way you can’t quite describe.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he turns to the headmistress. “I want this one,” he says, his voice calm, decisive.

The headmistress smiles, a tight, satisfied expression, as if she expected nothing less. “Of course, Mr. Piastri,” she replies smoothly. “She’s one of our finest.”

There’s a rush of relief that crashes over you, mixed with a new kind of fear. He’s chosen you. Out of all the omegas here, he’s chosen you. It should be a victory, but all you feel is a creeping sense of dread. What does this mean for you? What will your life be like now?

Oscar’s hand drops from your chin, and you lower your gaze again, as you’ve been taught. You can still feel the imprint of his touch, like a brand on your skin. The other omegas around you are silent, but you can sense their curiosity, their jealousy, their relief that they weren’t chosen.

“Prepare her things,” Oscar says to the headmistress, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll be leaving with her shortly.”

“Of course,” the headmistress repeats, her voice smooth, almost too smooth. She turns to you, her expression hardening. “You heard him. Go with Miss Parker to gather your belongings.”

You nod, obediently turning to follow Miss Parker, who gives you a curt nod before leading the way out of the hall. Your mind is spinning, your emotions a tangled mess of fear, confusion, and something else — something that feels dangerously like excitement.

As you walk down the corridor, away from the other omegas and the alphas who are still making their selections, you steal a glance back at Oscar. He’s already moving on, his focus shifting to some conversation with the headmistress, but you can’t shake the feeling that he’s still aware of you, even if he’s not looking your way.

Miss Parker doesn’t speak as she guides you to your room. There’s no need for words. You know what’s expected of you. You’ve always known.

When you reach your room, the small space that’s been your whole world for so long, Miss Parker hands you a simple, nondescript suitcase. “Pack quickly,” she says, her voice brusque but not unkind. “Mr. Piastri won’t want to wait.”

You nod again, mechanically moving to gather your things. There’s not much to take — just a few pieces of clothing, some personal items that you’ve been allowed to keep, all of it carefully selected to fit the image of the perfect omega. As you pack, you try to steady your breathing, to push back the rising tide of panic.

This is it. This is what you’ve been trained for, what your whole life has been leading to. And yet, standing here, on the edge of the unknown, you feel more lost than ever.

Miss Parker watches you, her expression unreadable. You wonder if she feels anything at all, if she remembers what it’s like to be in your position, or if she’s long since forgotten what it means to be afraid.

When you’re done, you stand, holding the suitcase tightly in your hands. Miss Parker gives a small nod of approval. “Good. Now, remember what you’ve been taught. Mr. Piastri is your alpha now. You will obey him in all things, without question.”

“I understand,” you reply, your voice steady, though you’re not sure how.

“Then let’s go,” Miss Parker says, turning on her heel and leading the way back down the corridor.

The walk back to the grand hall feels shorter, as if time is compressing around you. Before you know it, you’re standing in front of Oscar again, the suitcase a heavy weight in your hands.

He glances at it, then at you, his expression still inscrutable. “Ready?” He asks, though it’s clear he expects no answer but one.

“Yes,” you say quietly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Good,” Oscar says, his tone final. He turns to the headmistress, giving her a brief nod. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Of course, Mr. Piastri,” the headmistress says, her voice tinged with satisfaction. “We wish you and your new omega all the best.”

Oscar says nothing in return, just takes your suitcase from you with one hand, his grip firm, and gestures for you to follow him. You do, of course, because what else can you do? This is your life now, whatever that means.

As you leave the school, stepping out into the crisp morning air, you feel a strange mix of emotions — fear, yes, but also a flicker of something else, something that feels almost like hope. Maybe this will be better. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you fear.

You steal a glance at Oscar as he walks beside you, his expression still impassive, but there’s a calmness about him, a quiet strength that’s undeniable. He’s your alpha now, and while the thought terrifies you, there’s also a small, tentative part of you that wonders if maybe, just maybe, this is how it’s supposed to be.

***

Oscar stands in the grand entrance of the school, his eyes sweeping across the opulent hall as he takes in the scene. Everything about this place exudes prestige, from the intricate detailing on the marble floors to the quiet efficiency with which the staff move about. This is where the finest omegas in Europe are trained, where alphas come to find their perfect matches. He’s never been one to doubt his choices, but today, there’s an edge of curiosity that’s unfamiliar, even unsettling.

“Mr. Piastri,” the headmistress greets him, her voice smooth and practiced, an air of deference in her tone. “We’re honored to have you here.”

He nods, acknowledging her words without much thought. His mind is elsewhere, focused on the task ahead. He’s done his research, learned about this place, about the selection process. He knows what he’s looking for, or at least he thinks he does. It’s supposed to be straightforward — a practical decision, not one driven by sentiment or instinct. But even as he tells himself that, there’s a part of him that knows better.

“Shall we begin?” The headmistress asks, her eyes watching him carefully, as if she’s trying to gauge his mood.

“Yes,” Oscar says simply, his voice even, controlled. There’s no need for pretense; he knows his presence here speaks for itself.

She leads him into the hall where the omegas are gathered, all dressed in identical white dresses, their heads bowed slightly in a show of submission. It’s a carefully curated display, one meant to impress, to showcase their training. But as Oscar enters the room, a different sense takes over.

It’s the scent that hits him first, a mixture of soft florals and something else, something sweeter, more intoxicating. It’s subtle, almost elusive, yet it cuts through the air like a sharp blade, setting his senses on high alert. For a moment, he’s thrown off balance, the unexpectedness of it catching him off guard.

He’s been around omegas before, of course. He knows how their pheromones work, how they can influence alphas, but this … this is different. This scent isn’t just pleasant, it’s magnetic, pulling at something deep within him that he hadn’t even realized was there. He finds himself scanning the line of omegas, searching for the source, his heartbeat quickening despite his attempts to stay composed.

“Mr. Piastri?” The headmistress’ voice cuts through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. She’s watching him, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

“Go ahead,” Oscar says, waving her off as if everything is under control. He’s used to this, the scrutiny, the expectations. But right now, there’s something else at play, something he’s not sure how to navigate.

He moves down the line, his eyes sliding over the faces of the omegas, trying to identify the one whose scent has captivated him so thoroughly. There are many who glance up at him, hopeful, eager for his attention, but none of them seem to be the one he’s looking for.

Then, he sees you.

You’re standing near the end of the line, your posture perfect, your head slightly bowed like the others. But there’s something about the way you hold yourself, something different. And then there’s the scent — the one that’s been driving him to distraction since he walked in. It’s stronger here, more potent, wrapping around him and holding him in place.

Oscar’s steps slow as he approaches you, his gaze narrowing as he studies you more closely. You’re trembling slightly, he notices, though you’re doing your best to hide it. There’s a fragility to you, an air of vulnerability that he wasn’t expecting. But beneath that, there’s something else — an inner strength, a quiet resilience that draws him in even further.

Without thinking, he reaches out, tipping your chin up so he can see your face. The moment your eyes meet his, something clicks into place, something he can’t quite put into words. You’re beautiful, yes, but that’s not what’s holding his attention. It’s the way you look at him, a mix of fear and determination, as if you’re ready for whatever comes next, even if it terrifies you.

Oscar takes his time, letting the moment stretch out, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. Your scent is everywhere now, filling his lungs, clouding his thoughts. He knows he should be more objective, more calculating, but for the first time in a long time, he can’t bring himself to care.

“She’s one of our finest,” the headmistress says, her voice cutting into the moment like a knife. Oscar barely registers her words, his focus entirely on you.

“I want this one,” he says, his voice steady, final. There’s no hesitation, no doubt. He knows what he wants, and he’s not going to waste any time pretending otherwise.

The headmistress nods, clearly pleased. “Of course, Mr. Piastri.”

Oscar lets go of your chin, watching as you lower your gaze once more, obediently stepping back. The connection between you isn’t severed, though; if anything, it’s stronger now, more tangible. He feels it in the way his chest tightens, the way his instincts are screaming at him to keep you close, to never let you out of his sight.

He steps back, allowing the headmistress to take over, but his eyes never leave you. Even as she instructs you to gather your things, even as you turn to follow her orders, his focus remains on you. He’s never been one to act on impulse, to let his emotions dictate his actions, but right now, all he can think about is how he needs to get you out of here, to take you away from this place and claim you as his.

It’s irrational, and he knows it. But it’s also undeniable.

The minutes that pass feel like hours, each second dragging as he waits for you to return. He finds himself pacing, a rare show of impatience, his mind racing with possibilities. What will you be like, once you’re away from here? Will you still be this quiet, this controlled? Or will you reveal a different side of yourself, something more untamed?

When you finally reappear, suitcase in hand, Oscar feels a surge of something close to relief. You’re here, and you’re his, and that knowledge settles something deep within him. He reaches out, taking the suitcase from you, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment. The contact sends a jolt through him, and he wonders if you feel it too, if you’re as affected by this as he is.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice softer now, though still firm.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough. It’s all he needs to hear.

He turns to the headmistress, giving her a curt nod. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“It’s been our pleasure, Mr. Piastri,” she says, her tone just as polished as before, though there’s an undercurrent of satisfaction now. She’s done her job, and she knows it.

Oscar doesn’t waste any more time. He takes your hand, guiding you out of the hall and into the cool morning air. His grip is firm, possessive, as if he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

As you walk beside him, he feels that same pull, that same magnetic force that’s been with him since the moment he caught your scent. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and he knows he’s in dangerous territory, but there’s no going back now. He’s made his choice, and he’s going to see it through.

The car is waiting at the curb, sleek and black, and Oscar opens the door for you, gesturing for you to get in. You do so without hesitation, and he follows, settling into the seat beside you.

The driver doesn’t say a word, just starts the engine and pulls away from the school. Oscar glances over at you, taking in the way you’re sitting so still, your hands folded neatly in your lap. There’s a tension in your posture, a lingering uncertainty, and he can’t help but wonder what’s going through your mind.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, breaking the silence.

You nod, though it’s clear you’re still on edge. “Yes, Mr. Piastri.”

“Oscar,” he corrects, his tone gentler now. “You can call me Oscar.”

You hesitate, as if you’re not sure if it’s a test. “Oscar,” you repeat softly, and the sound of your voice saying his name sends a shiver down his spine.

There’s so much he wants to say, so many questions he wants to ask, but he holds back, giving you time to adjust. He knows this is overwhelming for you, that you’re probably terrified, but he also knows that you’re strong, that you’ve already proven yourself in ways that matter to him.

As the car speeds down the empty roads, Oscar leans back in his seat, his eyes never leaving you. He can’t predict what the future holds, can’t say for certain how this will all play out, but one thing is clear: you’re his now, and he’s not going to let anything come between you.

The scent that first drew him to you still lingers in the air, a constant reminder of the bond that’s forming between you. It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced, and he’s not sure how to navigate it, but he knows one thing for sure — he’s not going to let you go. Not now, not ever.

***

The cabin of the private jet hums with a quiet, luxurious calm, a stark contrast to the swirling storm of emotions inside you. You’re seated in a plush leather chair, staring out at the expanse of sky through the window. Clouds drift lazily by, but your thoughts are anything but tranquil.

Oscar sits across from you, his posture relaxed yet commanding. He’s been on his phone, dealing with some business matter, but even so, his presence dominates the space. You’ve barely spoken since boarding the jet, and every minute that passes feels like an eternity.

You steal a glance at him, trying to read the expression on his face, but it’s as composed as ever. You wonder what he’s thinking, if he’s having second thoughts. Your stomach twists with anxiety, not just from the uncertainty of what’s to come, but from something deeper, something that’s been building inside you ever since this morning.

Oscar finishes his call, slipping the phone into his pocket as he turns his attention fully to you. The weight of his gaze is almost unbearable, and you quickly lower your eyes, focusing on the smooth leather of the seat beneath your fingers.

“Monaco,” he says, breaking the silence. His voice is rich, deep, and it pulls your attention back to him. “I have an apartment there. That’s where we’ll be staying.”

Monaco. The name conjures images of sun-soaked coastlines, of wealth and glamour that you’ve only ever heard about. But all of that feels distant, almost unreal, compared to the reality of what you’re feeling right now.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Thank you,” you manage to say, though your voice trembles slightly.

Oscar watches you closely, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Something’s on your mind,” he states rather than asks. There’s no judgment in his tone, but the authority in his voice leaves no room for avoidance.

You hesitate, unsure of how to even begin. The words stick in your throat, the truth too uncomfortable to voice, but you know you can’t keep it hidden. Not from him. Not when it’s so important.

“They …” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “They gave us something … this morning.”

Oscar’s brows draw together, his expression shifting to one of concern mixed with something darker, more dangerous. “What do you mean?”

“They gave us heat inducers,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. You don’t dare look at him, instead focusing on your hands as they clench and unclench nervously in your lap. “They wanted to make sure that if any of us were taken by an alpha today, our heats would start soon. So that … so that we could be … mated as quickly as possible.”

The silence that follows is heavy, oppressive. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you don’t dare look up, afraid of what you might see in his eyes.

Then, there’s a low, rumbling growl that reverberates through the cabin. It’s a sound that sends a shiver down your spine, both thrilling and terrifying. You risk a glance at Oscar, and what you see in his expression nearly takes your breath away.

His eyes have darkened, his jaw clenched tightly as he processes what you’ve just told him. There’s a fierce protectiveness in his gaze, but also something more primal, something that calls to the omega in you.

“How long?” He asks, his voice rougher now, as if he’s barely restraining himself.

“I … I don’t know,” you admit, your heart pounding in your chest. “It’s already starting. I can feel it.”

Oscar doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stands, moving with a predatory grace that sends your pulse racing. He crosses the small distance between you in just a few steps, and before you know it, he’s kneeling in front of you, his large hands resting on your knees.

The touch is electric, sending heat rushing through your veins. You gasp softly, instinctively trying to pull back, but Oscar’s grip tightens, holding you in place.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

You obey, lifting your eyes to meet his. The intensity in his gaze is overwhelming, and you feel yourself trembling under the weight of it.

“You’re mine now,” Oscar says, his tone possessive, yet there’s a tenderness there too, something that reassures you even as it stokes the flames of your heat. “Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. But it’s the truth. You’ve known it from the moment he chose you, from the moment his hand touched your chin and your world tilted on its axis.

Oscar’s eyes soften slightly at your answer, but the fire in them remains. He reaches up, his fingers brushing against your neck, finding the sensitive spot just below your ear where your mating gland is. The contact sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you bite your lip to stifle the moan that threatens to escape.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing gently over your gland, his touch both soothing and maddeningly arousing. “When the time comes, I’ll make sure you feel good. I’ll make sure you know exactly who you belong to.”

The promise in his words sends a wave of heat crashing through you, and you shudder, unable to contain the small whimper that slips out.

Oscar’s grip on you tightens for just a moment, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “I want you to tell me everything you’re feeling,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “No hiding, no holding back. Understand?”

“Yes,” you manage to say, though it’s more of a breathless gasp than a proper response. Your mind is spinning, the heat building steadily inside you, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation.

He studies you for a moment longer, as if assessing your readiness, then slowly rises to his feet, pulling you up with him. The sudden change in position makes your head spin, and you find yourself leaning into him for support, your body seeking out his warmth instinctively.

Oscar wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close as he guides you to the couch on the other side of the cabin. He sits down first, then pulls you onto his lap, positioning you so that you’re straddling his thighs, your bodies pressed together intimately.

The new position brings your core into direct contact with the hard length of him, and the sensation is enough to make you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders for balance. You can feel the heat pooling low in your belly, your body responding to his in ways you’ve never experienced before.

“Tell me what you need,” Oscar demands, his hands settling on your hips, holding you firmly in place. The look in his eyes is dark, intense, and it makes your heart race faster.

You hesitate, your mind foggy with desire, unsure of how to put your needs into words. But the pressure of his hands, the way he’s looking at you, tells you that he’s not going to let you avoid the question.

“I … I need you,” you finally admit, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Please … it’s so hot, and I can’t … I can’t think straight.”

Oscar’s eyes flash with something predatory, and he shifts beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening. “That’s because your body knows exactly what it needs,” he says, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “It’s instinct, omega. And it’s only going to get stronger.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, sending shivers down your spine. “I want you to let go,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “Don’t fight it. I’ll take care of everything.”

You moan softly, the sound involuntary as his words sink into your mind, the command laced with something deeper, something that resonates with the omega inside you.

Oscar’s hands begin to move, one sliding up your back to cradle the nape of your neck, the other slipping down to cup your ass, holding you firmly against him. The heat between you is palpable, and you can feel yourself growing wetter, your body readying itself for what’s to come.

“Good girl,” Oscar murmurs, his voice filled with approval. The praise makes you whimper, your body arching into his touch, desperate for more.

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s equal parts amusement and satisfaction. “You’re already so responsive,” he notes, his hand sliding up your thigh to the hem of your dress, fingers teasing the sensitive skin there. “It won’t be long now.”

You can feel the truth in his words, the heat inside you building to a fever pitch, your body trembling with need. It’s almost unbearable, the ache, the hunger, and you press yourself against him, seeking out any form of relief.

Oscar’s fingers trail higher, pushing the fabric of your dress up your thighs, exposing more of your skin to the cool air of the cabin. The contrast only heightens your arousal, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as your hips start to move instinctively, grinding against him.

“Shh,” Oscar soothes, his hand sliding up your back to cradle your head, guiding you to rest your forehead against his shoulder. “I know, sweetheart. I know it’s hard. But I’m right here. I’m going to take care of you.”

Oscar’s touch is electric, his fingers gliding with a deliberate slowness up the inside of your thigh. The sensation sends shivers through you, your body reacting to every subtle movement. You cling to him, your breath ragged, heart pounding in your chest as the heat deepens, spreading like wildfire.

He’s still cradling you on his lap, his other hand steady at the nape of your neck, holding you close to him. The intimacy of the moment is almost too much to bear, and yet, you crave more. The pressure building inside you is overwhelming, a desperate need that only he can satisfy.

Oscar’s hand inches higher, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your panties. The touch of his fingers against your slick folds draws a gasp from your lips, your hips instinctively bucking against his hand. He hums in approval, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Your body’s more than ready, isn’t it?”

You can only manage a breathless nod in response, your mind too clouded with desire to form coherent words. His fingers explore with a deliberate slowness, tracing the contours of your body, heightening your arousal with every teasing stroke. When he finally brushes against your swollen clit, your body jerks, a soft cry escaping your lips.

Oscar’s grip tightens slightly, holding you in place as his fingers begin to move in slow, torturous circles. The pleasure is almost too much, and yet it’s not enough — nowhere near enough to satisfy the gnawing hunger inside you. The need for more, for him, drives you to the brink of madness, and you find yourself whining, pleading with him for release.

“Please, Oscar … more … I need more …” Your voice is a desperate whimper, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.

But Oscar doesn’t relent, doesn’t give you what you’re begging for. Instead, he keeps his movements slow, controlled, as if testing your limits. His touch is maddeningly precise, each brush of his fingers sending waves of pleasure coursing through you, yet never quite enough to push you over the edge.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice soothing but firm. “You’re not ready. Not here.”

His words are both a comfort and a torment. You understand what he’s doing, why he’s holding back, but it doesn’t make the ache inside you any less excruciating. The heat is becoming unbearable, and you grind yourself against his hand, seeking more friction, more anything, to ease the burning need.

Oscar’s fingers dip lower, sliding inside you with agonizing slowness, and you cry out, the sensation almost too much to bear. He stills for a moment, allowing you to adjust, his other hand gently stroking your back as you pant against his neck.

“So tight,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his voice laced with a mix of pride and possessiveness. “You’re going to feel so good around me when the time comes.”

You whimper at his words, the thought of what’s to come sending another rush of heat through you. But just as you start to lose yourself in the pleasure, in the feeling of his fingers moving inside you, the jet gives a sudden lurch, signaling the start of your descent.

Oscar’s touch freezes, and you blink in confusion, your dazed mind struggling to comprehend what’s happening. His hand slips from between your thighs, and you make a small sound of protest, your body trembling with the sudden loss of contact.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. “But we’re landing. We have to wait.”

“No …” The word slips out before you can stop it, a pitiful, desperate plea. The idea of stopping now, of having to endure this unbearable heat without relief, is almost too much to bear. “Please … don’t stop …”

Oscar sighs, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, gently tilting your head back so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes now, a tenderness that contrasts sharply with the heat between you.

“Not here,” he says firmly, though there’s a note of apology in his voice. “When we get to the apartment, I promise I’ll take care of you. But not here.”

You shake your head, tears of frustration and need welling up in your eyes. The logical part of you understands — knows that he’s right — but the omega in you, the part that’s driven by instinct and need, doesn’t care. You need him, now, and the idea of waiting feels impossible.

Oscar’s thumb strokes your cheek, wiping away a stray tear, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I know it’s hard,” he murmurs against your skin. “But I want our first time to be special. Not rushed, not in some cramped cabin. You deserve more than that.”

His words, his touch, they soothe you, if only slightly. You nod, though the movement is reluctant, and he smiles softly, pressing another kiss to your temple.

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice filled with warmth. The words send a small thrill through you, even as your body continues to throb with unmet need.

The jet gives another lurch, and Oscar shifts, carefully lifting you off his lap and setting you down beside him. The sudden distance between you makes you whimper, but he’s quick to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side.

“Just a little longer,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair. “Then I’ll make sure you get everything you need.”

You nod again, leaning into his warmth as the jet begins its final descent. The anticipation is almost unbearable, the knowledge that relief is so close yet still out of reach making every passing second feel like an eternity.

When the jet finally lands, Oscar is the first to rise, holding out a hand to help you to your feet. Your legs are shaky, and he wraps an arm around your waist to steady you as you make your way to the door.

The heat is building, every step sending a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. By the time you reach the door, you’re trembling, your body barely able to contain the need that’s threatening to consume you.

Oscar notices, of course. He’s been watching you closely, his sharp eyes missing nothing. As the door opens and the cool night air rushes in, he pauses, turning to you with a look of concern.

“Are you alright to walk?” He asks, his voice gentle, but there’s an underlying tension there, as if he’s barely holding himself back.

You shake your head, your legs too shaky to trust, the heat making it hard to think straight. “I … I don’t think I can …”

Oscar doesn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, he scoops you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he steps out of the jet. The sudden movement makes you gasp, but you quickly wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him as he carries you down the steps.

The car is waiting at the bottom, the driver standing at attention, but Oscar doesn’t spare him a glance. He moves with purpose, his grip on you secure as he carries you to the car and slides into the backseat with you still in his arms.

Once inside, he positions you so that you’re straddling his lap again, your bodies pressed together. The door closes behind you, and the car starts moving, but all you can focus on is the feel of him beneath you, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

“Oscar … please …” The words slip out before you can stop them, your voice filled with desperation.

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lower lip as he studies you, his expression a mix of concern and desire. “I know, sweetheart,” he says softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I know how hard this is for you.”

You whimper, your hips instinctively rocking against his lap in search of relief, but Oscar’s hands grip your waist, stilling your movements.

“But not here,” he repeats, his tone firm despite the longing in his eyes. “I won’t take you for the first time in the back of a car. You deserve better than that.”

His words are both a comfort and a torment. You understand what he’s saying, know that he’s trying to do right by you, but the need inside you is growing stronger with every passing second, making it hard to think, hard to focus on anything other than the burning desire to be claimed.

Oscar’s hand slides up to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll make it worth the wait,” he promises, his voice a low, seductive rumble. “I’ll make sure you feel every second of it.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you moan softly, pressing your forehead against his shoulder as you try to steady your breathing. The heat is almost unbearable now, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

Oscar’s hands continue to roam, one slipping beneath your dress to caress your thigh, the other trailing up your spine in a soothing gesture. He’s trying to comfort you, to ease your suffering, but it’s a losing battle. The need is too strong, too overwhelming.

“Just hold on a little longer,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’re almost there.”

By the time the car pulls up to the sleek, modern apartment building, you’re trembling uncontrollably, your body nearly vibrating with the intensity of the heat that’s been steadily building since you left the jet. Oscar, ever aware of your condition, doesn’t waste a second. He’s out of the car and around to your side before the driver can even think to open the door for you.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he reaches for you, his tone soothing despite the underlying urgency in his movements. His strong arms wrap around you, effortlessly lifting you from the backseat. As he stands, you feel the dampness between your legs spread, leaving a wet spot on his pant leg.

A flicker of something dark and possessive crosses his face as he notices, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he tightens his grip, holding you closer against his chest as if shielding you from the world. His pace quickens as he heads toward the entrance of the building, your soft whimpers filling the space between you.

“Oscar … please …” Your voice is barely more than a breathy moan, the plea escaping before you can stop it. The need inside you is too overwhelming to contain, and you’re desperate for him to finally take you, to claim you as his.

His jaw clenches, and you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves, but he doesn’t stop. “I know, baby,” he replies, his voice rough with restraint. “Just a little longer. We’re almost there.”

The elevator ride feels like an eternity. You’re wrapped around him, clutching his shoulders, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you try to suppress the sobs of need that threaten to escape. Oscar’s hand rubs soothing circles on your back, his other arm securing you tightly against him. Every touch is a lifeline, but it’s also torture, reminding you of everything you’re not yet getting.

When the elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, Oscar strides out without hesitation, his eyes fixed on the door to his apartment. You whimper, your hands fisting in his shirt as the desperation in your voice grows. “Oscar … please … I can’t …”

“You can,” he insists, his voice low and commanding as he finally reaches his door. “Just a few more seconds, and then I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

He fumbles with the keys, the tension in his body palpable. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the barely controlled restraint that’s holding him back from giving in to your pleas right there in the hallway. Finally, the door swings open, and he carries you over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him.

He drops the luggage carelessly by the entrance, his focus entirely on you. The moment the door clicks shut, something shifts in him. The restraint he’s been clinging to snaps, and he moves with purpose, his steps quick and sure as he heads straight for the bedroom.

You’re practically panting by the time he sets you down on the edge of the bed, your legs weak and trembling beneath you. Oscar’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire as he looks at you, his gaze intense, predatory.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with possession. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you? I can smell it on you, how badly you need me.”

You nod frantically, your hands reaching for him, trying to pull him closer. “Please, Oscar … I need you … now …”

He smirks, the sight of your desperation clearly affecting him, but he doesn’t give in right away. Instead, he takes a moment to savor the sight of you, his eyes raking over your trembling form as he steps between your legs.

“I’m going to make sure you never forget this,” he promises, his voice a low growl as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing your dress up over your hips. “You’re mine now, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

A shudder runs through you at his words, the possessiveness in his tone only fueling the fire inside you. You lean back on your elbows, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you watch him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Oscar, please … I can’t wait any longer …”

His eyes darken further, and he lets out a low, rumbling growl as he finally gives in, his hands moving to strip away the last of your clothing. The cool air hits your heated skin, and you whimper, your body arching toward him, craving his touch.

Oscar wastes no time, his hands everywhere at once, touching, caressing, teasing. His mouth follows, lips and tongue tracing a scorching path along your neck, down to your chest, and lower still. Every touch, every kiss, only heightens your arousal, pushing you closer to the edge.

When his hand finally slips between your legs again, you let out a broken moan, your hips lifting off the bed in search of more contact. He chuckles darkly, his fingers parting your folds and slipping inside with ease, the slickness of your arousal making the movement effortless.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice laced with satisfaction. “So ready to be claimed.”

You can only moan in response, your body writhing beneath him as his fingers begin to move, slow and deliberate, dragging out your pleasure until you’re on the verge of tears.

“Oscar … please … I need you inside me …”

He growls at your plea, his control slipping further as he pulls his fingers out, making you whimper at the loss. But then he’s undressing, and your eyes widen as you watch him, the anticipation building with every second.

When he finally joins you on the bed, his body hovering over yours, you reach for him, your hands shaking with need. He captures your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head as he settles between your legs, his gaze locking with yours.

“This is going to be intense,” he warns, his voice low and rough with desire. “But I need you to trust me, okay?”

You nod frantically, your body aching for him, needing him more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life. “I trust you,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please, Oscar … make me yours …”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. With a low growl, he positions himself at your entrance, and with one swift, powerful thrust, he’s inside you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, and you cry out, your back arching off the bed as pleasure and pain mix together in a heady, intoxicating blend.

Oscar stills for a moment, letting you adjust, his breath coming in harsh pants as he struggles to hold back. His grip on your wrists tightens, his other hand sliding down to grip your hip, holding you in place.

“You’re so tight,” he groans, his voice strained. “Fuck, you feel so good around me …”

You whimper, your body trembling with the effort to hold still, the overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled making it hard to think, hard to breathe. But the pain is already fading, quickly replaced by a deep, aching pleasure that leaves you desperate for more.

“Move,” you plead, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, Oscar … I need you to move …”

He lets out a shuddering breath, his control hanging by a thread as he slowly pulls out, only to thrust back in with a force that makes you see stars. The pleasure is immediate, a sharp, intense burst that has you crying out, your body arching into his.

Oscar’s pace is relentless, each thrust deep and powerful, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You’re lost in the sensation, your world narrowed down to the feel of him inside you, the heat of his body against yours, the sound of his growls and your moans filling the room.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and possessive as he pounds into you. “All mine … I’m going to make sure everyone knows it …”

You’re too far gone to respond, your body trembling as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak. It’s too much, too intense, and yet you can’t get enough. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release.

Oscar’s hand moves to your neck, his thumb brushing over your mating gland, and you cry out at the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Do it,” you plead, your voice breaking. “Please, Oscar … bite me … claim me …”

He lets out a guttural growl, his control finally snapping as he lowers his head to your neck. His teeth graze over your gland, and you shudder, your body tensing in anticipation.

“Mine,” he snarls, and then he bites down, his teeth sinking into your flesh with a sharp, searing pain that quickly turns into the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt.

The orgasm hits you like a freight train, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. You scream his name, your voice raw and broken as you unravel completely beneath him.

Oscar growls against your neck, his hips slamming into you with a renewed intensity as he rides out your orgasm, his own release following close behind. He thrusts deep inside you, filling you with his seed as he marks you as his, the bond between you solidifying with each pulse of pleasure.

When it’s over, you collapse against the bed, your body trembling with aftershocks, your mind dazed and blissfully blank. Oscar’s breath is hot against your neck, his body still pressing you into the mattress as the intensity of your shared cliDylan begins to ebb. You’re both trembling, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your veins as your minds struggle to grasp what just happened. He’s still buried deep inside you, his knot holding you together, and the thought of being this intimately connected with him sends another shiver of pleasure down your spine.

He nuzzles into your neck, his lips brushing over the fresh bite mark he’s left on your mating gland, the sensation making you whimper softly. “You did so well, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky with satisfaction. “So good for me.”

You’re too spent to respond, your body heavy and exhausted from the intense pleasure he’s wrung out of you. Instead, you nuzzle closer to him, your eyes fluttering shut as the heat in your body temporarily dies down, leaving you in a blissful haze.

Oscar shifts slightly, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so that you’re lying on his chest, still intimately connected. His hands stroke soothingly down your back, and you let out a contented sigh, feeling safe and secure in his arms.

“You should get some sleep while you can,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble beneath you. “There’s going to be another wave soon, and you’ll need your strength.”

You know he’s right, but the thought of sleeping while you’re still so tightly bound to him feels almost impossible. You’re too aware of his presence, of the way his knot is still lodged deep inside you, of the steady thrum of his heart beneath your ear. But exhaustion is quickly catching up with you, and before long, your eyes are drifting shut, your body relaxing fully against his.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, your voice drowsy as sleep begins to pull you under.

“Always,” he replies, his voice filled with a quiet promise.

The last thing you feel before sleep claims you is the gentle press of his lips against your temple, the warmth of his body surrounding you, and the comfort of knowing that, for the first time in your life, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

When you wake, the room is dark, and the only sound is the steady rise and fall of Oscar’s breathing. Your body is warm and heavy, still draped over his chest, still connected to him in the most intimate way. But as your mind begins to shake off the lingering remnants of sleep, you become acutely aware of the insistent throbbing between your legs, the undeniable need that’s starting to build once again.

You shift slightly, your movement eliciting a low groan from Oscar as the motion tugs at his knot, still firmly in place inside you. The sensation sends a wave of heat through you, and you let out a soft whine, your body instinctively pressing closer to him.

Oscar stirs beneath you, his hands sliding up to rest on your hips, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

“Mmhmm,” you reply, your voice breathy as you nuzzle into his chest. “I need you …”

He lets out a low chuckle, his hands beginning to trace soothing patterns on your skin. “You’ve got me, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

But it’s not enough. The need inside you is growing stronger, more insistent, and you can feel the heat beginning to rise again, demanding more. “I need more than that,” you whisper, your voice laced with desperation. “Please, Oscar …”

His hands still on your hips, his body tensing beneath you. “It’s too soon,” he says, his voice rough with restraint. “This is only your first heat with me. We have time, plenty of time for that later.”

You shake your head, a whimper escaping your lips as you press closer, your body aching with need. “No, I need it now. I need you to knot me again … I need you to give me pups …”

Oscar’s breath catches in his throat, his hands tightening on your hips as he tries to maintain control. “Sweetheart, listen to me,” he begins, his voice strained. “I want that too, but this is your first time going through heat with me. We should wait-”

“No,” you cut him off, your voice firm despite the desperation lacing it. “I can’t wait. I need you now, Oscar. Please … I need to feel you knot me again, to know that I’m yours completely …”

He lets out a low growl, his control slipping further as your words push him closer to the edge. “You are mine,” he snarls, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. “You’re already mine. I’ve marked you, claimed you-”

“Then show me,” you plead, your voice breaking as you grind down against him, desperate for the friction. “Show me that I’m yours … knot me and fill me, Oscar. Give me pups …”

His restraint snaps completely at your words, and with a feral growl, he flips you onto your back, pinning you beneath him as he pulls out of you, only to thrust back in with a force that leaves you breathless. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure as his knot stretches you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You want my knot?” He growls, his voice rough and possessive as he pounds into you with an intensity that has you seeing stars. “You want me to fill you with my pups?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your body arching off the bed as you cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Yes, please, Oscar … I need it …”

He’s relentless, his thrusts deep and powerful as he chases his own release, the sound of your cries and pleas only spurring him on. The heat between your legs is almost unbearable, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as his knot swells inside you, locking you together once again.

“I’m going to give you everything,” he growls, his voice low and rough as he drives into you with a single-minded focus. “You’re going to take all of me, every last drop …”

You can’t form coherent words anymore, your mind too lost in the overwhelming pleasure, but you manage a breathless moan, the sound desperate and needy as you beg him for more.

Oscar doesn’t disappoint. With a final, powerful thrust, he knots you, his body going rigid as he spills inside you, filling you with his seed. The sensation is enough to send you over the edge, and you scream his name as you’re thrown into another intense orgasm, your body shaking and trembling beneath him.

He rides out your release, his movements slow and deliberate as he pushes you through the waves of pleasure, his knot pulsing inside you with every throb of his cock. You’re barely aware of anything else, your mind completely consumed by the sensation of being filled so completely, so perfectly by him.

When it’s over, you collapse against the bed, your body trembling with aftershocks, your mind dazed and blissfully blank. Oscar’s weight presses down on you, his breath hot against your neck as he nuzzles into your skin, his knot still lodged firmly inside you.

“Mine,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble as he kisses your neck, the possessiveness in his tone clear. “You’re mine, and now everyone will know it …”

You let out a soft, contented sigh, the sound barely more than a whisper as you relax completely in his arms. “Always,” you reply, your voice drowsy as sleep begins to pull you under once again.

Oscar hums in response, his hands stroking soothingly down your back as he holds you close. “Get some rest, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice soft and tender. “I’ve got you.”

You don’t need to be told twice. The exhaustion from the intensity of your heat is catching up with you, and your eyes are already drifting shut, your body relaxing completely against his.

The last thing you feel before sleep claims you is the gentle press of his lips against your temple, the warmth of his body surrounding you, and the comfort of knowing that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be — safe, loved, and claimed by the alpha who now holds your heart in his hands.

***

The days blend together in a rhythm that becomes both comforting and suffocating. You wake up alone in the large bed, the sheets still warm from where Oscar had been lying beside you, his scent lingering in the air. The apartment is quiet, too quiet, with only the distant hum of the city outside to keep you company. The space around you is luxurious and expansive, but it feels empty without him.

Oscar has people for everything — cooking, cleaning, managing his life outside the realm of racing. You’d been trained to handle those tasks, taught to be the perfect omega who could anticipate and fulfill every need an alpha might have. But here, in Oscar’s world, those skills are unnecessary. The staff handles the meals, tidying up, and even the minutiae of his schedule. It leaves you with little to do, your days stretching out in a seemingly endless wait for him to return from training, meetings, or other obligations.

It’s the nights you live for, the moments when he finally comes home and the two of you can lose yourselves in each other. The way he takes you, the way he makes you feel, it’s overwhelming, all-consuming. In those moments, nothing else matters. The world narrows down to just the two of you, your bodies moving together in perfect synchrony, your cries of pleasure mingling with his growls of satisfaction. You crave those nights, where the boundaries between you blur, and all you can feel is the heat and the raw, primal connection that bonds you together.

But when the night ends, and the morning comes, the cycle starts again. He kisses you softly before slipping out of bed, leaving you to wake alone, his absence a gaping void that you can’t quite fill. You’ve tried to distract yourself, tried to find ways to pass the time, but nothing seems to help. You miss him when he’s gone, the ache of longing settling deep in your chest, gnawing at you throughout the day.

You spend your days wandering through the apartment, aimless and restless, your mind filled with thoughts of Oscar. Sometimes you’ll curl up on the couch, pulling one of his shirts over your knees just to feel closer to him. Other times, you’ll find yourself standing at the window, staring out at the city below, wondering where he is, what he’s doing, and when he’ll come back to you.

The staff is polite and attentive, but they’re not him. They’re not the warm, reassuring presence that you crave, the one who makes you feel safe and wanted. They do their jobs efficiently, always a step ahead, always ensuring that everything is perfect for when Oscar returns. But their presence only serves to remind you of the emptiness that fills your days.

When Oscar finally comes home, it’s like a breath of fresh air, a reprieve from the stifling monotony that your days have become. You run to him, your body instinctively seeking out his warmth, his touch. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his scent filling your senses and grounding you in a way nothing else can.

“Missed you,” you murmur against his chest, your voice soft and full of longing.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice a low rumble as he kisses the top of your head. “But I’m here now.”

The nights are everything you could ever want, a heady mix of pleasure and passion that leaves you breathless and sated. Oscar knows exactly how to touch you, how to draw out every moan and whimper, how to make you forget everything except the way he feels inside you. It’s a relief to lose yourself in him, to drown in the intensity of your connection, to feel completely and utterly his.

It’s after one such night that you find yourself lying in his arms, your body still humming with the afterglow of pleasure. The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the city outside the window. Oscar’s chest rises and falls steadily beneath your cheek, his hand lazily tracing patterns on your back as he holds you close.

“Are you alright?” He murmurs, his voice soft and full of concern.

You nod, but the words you’ve been holding back for days now bubble to the surface. “I … I miss you when you’re away.”

There’s a pause, and you feel Oscar’s body tense slightly beneath you. He shifts, moving so that he can look down at you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Sweetheart, I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

You bite your lip, feeling a little embarrassed by your admission. “It’s just … when you’re gone, I don’t know what to do with myself. The days are so long, and I feel so … lost without you.”

Oscar sighs, his hand cupping your cheek as he strokes his thumb over your skin. “I’m sorry, I never meant for you to feel like that. I thought you might need some time to adjust, to get used to this new life. But if it’s too much, I’ll figure something out. I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“It’s not that I’m unhappy,” you say quickly, not wanting him to think you’re ungrateful. “I just miss you. I miss having you close, knowing you’re here with me. It’s hard when you’re gone, and I’m just … waiting.”

Oscar’s expression softens, and he pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I didn’t realize how much you were struggling. I’ve been trying to give you space, but if it’s making you feel like this, then it’s not working.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his. “I don’t need space, Oscar. I need you. I want to be with you, wherever that is. I don’t care if it’s at home or at a race or anywhere else. I just want to be by your side.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes thoughtful as he considers your words. Then, he nods, as if coming to a decision. “Alright, then. If that’s what you want, I won’t leave you behind anymore.”

You blink up at him, surprised by how easily he agrees. “You mean it?”

“I do,” he says, his voice firm. “I’ve been waiting for you to settle in, to see if you’d be comfortable here on your own. But I can see now that this isn’t working. I don’t want you to feel lonely, and I don’t want to be away from you either.”

Your heart swells with emotion, and you lean up to kiss him, pouring all of your gratitude and love into the gesture. “Thank you,” you whisper against his lips. “I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”

Oscar kisses you back, his hands threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue teasing yours in a way that has your toes curling. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are filled with a warmth that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“From now on, you’ll come with me,” he says, his voice full of promise. “Wherever I go, you’ll be there too. I won’t leave you behind again.”

The relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming, and you can’t help but smile up at him, feeling lighter than you have in days. The thought of traveling with him, of being by his side no matter where he goes, fills you with a sense of purpose and belonging that you’ve been craving.

“Thank you,” you say again, your voice filled with gratitude. “I can’t wait to be with you, wherever that is.”

Oscar smiles, his eyes soft as he looks down at you. “Neither can I, sweetheart. Neither can I.”

As you settle back into his arms, your heart feels full, the ache of loneliness that has plagued you for so long finally beginning to fade. You know that being with Oscar, traveling by his side, won’t always be easy. There will be challenges, new environments to adapt to, and the pressures of his career. But none of that matters as long as you’re together.

You press a soft kiss to his chest, letting your eyes drift shut as you snuggle closer to him. The future feels bright, full of possibilities that you hadn’t dared to hope for. And most importantly, it’s a future where you won’t have to be apart from the one person who means everything to you.

Oscar’s hand continues to stroke your back in soothing circles, his warmth and scent surrounding you, grounding you in the here and now. “Get some sleep, love,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble. “We’ve got a lot to look forward to.”

You smile against his skin, feeling completely at peace for the first time in days. “Goodnight, Oscar,” you whisper, your voice filled with contentment.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he replies, his lips brushing over your temple as he holds you close.

As you drift off to sleep, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together, side by side. And that’s all you could ever want.

***

The roar of engines is deafening, the air thick with the scent of burning rubber and fuel as you stand on the sidelines, watching the blur of cars as they speed around the track. This is your first time at a race, the sheer energy and intensity of the event almost overwhelming. The crowd is a sea of color, cheering and waving flags, the excitement palpable in the air. You feel a thrill of anticipation as you watch Oscar’s car navigate the circuit with practiced ease, your heart swelling with pride.

It’s surreal being here, surrounded by so many people, so much noise, so much movement. You’ve heard stories about the races from Oscar, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. The speed, the adrenaline, the stakes — it’s all so much more than you’d imagined. You can barely keep your eyes off the screen that tracks the positions, each lap feeling like a small victory as Oscar maintains his place near the front.

But then, something shifts.

A sudden hush falls over the crowd, a sharp intake of breath as something unexpected happens on the track. You watch in horror as Oscar’s car and Lando’s car make contact, the two vehicles colliding with a screech of metal and rubber. The impact sends Oscar’s car spinning off the track, his position slipping away in an instant.

Your heart drops into your stomach, panic rising as you watch the car come to a stop, half-buried in gravel. For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the only sound the blood rushing in your ears. Then, as if in slow motion, you see Oscar emerge from the car, the safety personnel rushing to his side. Relief floods through you, but it’s short-lived as you see the way he carries himself, the tension in his shoulders, the dark look in his eyes.

Something’s wrong.

You can feel it, a shift in the air, a dark, possessive energy radiating from him even from this distance. The cameras zoom in on his face, and you see it — the barely restrained fury, the cold, calculating look that makes your blood run cold. Oscar is not just angry; he’s on the verge of something far more primal, far more dangerous.

You don’t even realize you’re moving until you find yourself near the garage, your feet carrying you closer to where you know he’ll be headed. The tension in the pit is palpable, everyone on edge as they wait for Oscar to arrive. You can see the way the crew exchanges nervous glances, whispering among themselves, unsure of how to handle the situation.

And then he appears.

Oscar storms into the garage, his presence like a thunderstorm rolling in, dark and ominous. The crew parts for him without a word, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and respect. He doesn’t even acknowledge them, his gaze focused solely on you, as if nothing else exists in the world. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, a raw, feral need that takes your breath away.

Before you can say anything, before you can even think, Oscar is in front of you, his hands gripping your arms as he pulls you close. The scent of him is overwhelming, a heady mix of sweat, adrenaline, and something darker, something possessive. You can feel the tension radiating off him, his body coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.

“Oscar,” you breathe, trying to calm him, but your voice is lost in the chaos around you.

He doesn’t say a word, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your knees weak. There’s something primal in his gaze, something that tells you he’s on the edge, barely holding on to control. Without warning, he dips his head, his nose brushing against your neck as he inhales deeply, taking in your scent as if it’s the only thing grounding him.

You shiver, your body responding instinctively to his touch, to the dominance that radiates from him in waves. He growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through you, sending a thrill of both fear and excitement down your spine. It’s a warning, a claim, and you know without a doubt that everyone around you understands what it means.

He’s staking his claim on you, right here in front of everyone.

Oscar’s hands move to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he nuzzles your neck, his breath hot against your skin. The world around you fades, the only thing you can focus on is him, the way his body presses against yours, the way his lips brush over your mating gland, sending sparks of electricity through your veins.

And then, he bites.

It’s not a gentle bite, not like the ones he’s given you in bed. This is possessive, demanding, a show of dominance that leaves no room for doubt. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body goes limp in his arms, overwhelmed by the surge of pleasure and pain that courses through you. He growls again, his teeth sinking deeper into your skin as he marks you, his claim on you undeniable.

You can feel the eyes of everyone in the garage on you, can hear the whispers, the shocked gasps, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except for the way Oscar is holding you, the way he’s making sure everyone knows you belong to him and him alone.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are wild, his breathing ragged. There’s a dark, possessive satisfaction in his gaze as he looks down at you, his thumb brushing over the fresh bite mark with a kind of reverence. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to — his actions speak louder than words ever could.

You’re his, and he’s not about to let anyone forget it.

The crew doesn’t dare to interfere, their eyes averted as Oscar pulls you even closer, his arm wrapping around your waist as if to shield you from the world. He’s not done yet, not by a long shot, and you can feel the tension in his body, the barely restrained urge to take you right here, right now.

But somehow, he manages to hold back, his grip on control tenuous at best. He growls again, a low, dangerous sound that sends a shiver of anticipation through you. Without a word, he starts moving, dragging you along with him as he heads towards his driver’s room, his steps quick and determined.

You can barely keep up, your heart pounding in your chest as he pulls you through the garage, his focus entirely on getting you alone. The door to his driver’s room slams shut behind you, and the moment you’re alone, the last shred of Oscar’s control snaps.

He’s on you in an instant, his mouth crashing down on yours in a bruising, possessive kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. His hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, pulling you closer, his need for you palpable in every touch, every kiss, every growl that rumbles in his chest.

“Oscar,” you gasp when he pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his hands already working on the buttons of your shirt. “Please …”

“I can’t … I need …” His voice is rough, desperate, his hands trembling as he rips your shirt open, the buttons flying in every direction.

You barely have time to react before his mouth is on your neck, kissing, licking, biting, his hands sliding down to your waist to tug at the waistband of your pants. There’s a wildness to him, a desperation that you’ve never seen before, and it sends a thrill of both excitement and fear through you.

His rut is taking over, his need to claim you, to possess you, overriding everything else. You’re helpless against the onslaught of sensation, your body responding to him instinctively, your mind hazy with desire.

“Oscar,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he pulls your pants down, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifts you up, pressing you against the wall.

“Mine,” he growls, his eyes dark with need as he looks down at you, his hands spreading your legs as he presses his hips against yours.

You can feel him, hard and ready, the evidence of his need pressing against your core, and it drives you wild with desire. Your hands fumble with his belt, your fingers trembling as you try to unbuckle it, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Oscar, please,” you beg, your voice barely more than a whisper as you look up at him, your eyes wide with need.

His control is slipping, his eyes darkening as he watches you struggle to free him from his pants. With a growl, he grabs your hands, pinning them above your head as he uses his other hand to tear his zipper down, his race suit sliding down to his hips.

He’s rough, desperate, his hands gripping your thighs as he lines himself up, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. There’s no more time for words, no more time for hesitation. He’s too far gone, too deep into his rut to hold back any longer.

With a single, powerful thrust, he’s inside you, and the world explodes into a whirlwind of sensation. The pleasure is overwhelming, your body arching against his as he moves, each thrust harder, faster, more desperate than the last.

You can barely think, barely breathe, your mind consumed by the raw, primal need that courses through you. All you can do is hold on, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he takes you, his possessiveness, his dominance, his need to claim you driving him to the edge.

“Oscar … I can’t …” You try to form a coherent thought, but it’s impossible, the pleasure too much, too intense, too all-consuming.

“Mine,” he growls again, his teeth grazing your mating gland, the sharp points teasing at the skin, sending shivers down your spine. He’s buried deep inside you, his pace unrelenting, driving into you with a force that has you gasping, your body pinned between him and the wall. The world outside is nothing more than a distant memory now, lost to the haze of heat and need that pulses between you.

He’s so deep in his rut that he can barely speak, his words slurring together as his instincts take over. “Good omega … my perfect omega …” he mutters, his voice rough and hoarse, every syllable dripping with raw, animalistic possession. “You’ll be … you’ll be the perfect mother … for our pups.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, the thought of bearing his pups, of being filled by him in every possible way, setting your nerves on fire. He can feel it too, the way your body responds to his words, the way you tighten around him, and it only spurs him on. His hand moves from your waist, sliding down to press against your lower abdomen, right where his knot is beginning to swell, becoming visible through the skin.

“You feel that?” Oscar growls, his hand pressing down on the slight bulge, making you cry out, your body arching against him. “That’s my knot … locking you in place … filling you with my seed … making you mine in every way …”

You can only moan in response, your mind too clouded with pleasure to form any coherent words. His hand stays on your stomach, pressing down just enough to intensify the sensation, to make you acutely aware of how deep he is inside you, how thoroughly he’s claimed you. The pressure is almost too much, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that has you trembling in his arms, your legs barely able to support you.

“You’re so perfect … so good for me …” Oscar continues, his voice rough with need. His thrusts slow, becoming more deliberate, more focused as his knot swells, locking him inside you. The pressure builds, the sensation of being so completely filled by him overwhelming every other thought, every other feeling.

His hand on your stomach presses down harder, as if he’s trying to push his knot even deeper, and the sensation is almost too much to bear. You can feel every inch of him, every ridge, every pulse, and it’s driving you to the brink of madness. “Gonna give you everything,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, possessive growl. “Everything you need … everything I have …”

You whimper, the sound muffled by the intensity of the moment, your body shuddering against him as he continues to speak, his voice a rough, desperate whisper in your ear. “You’ll be such a good mother … carrying our pups … taking care of them … just like you take care of me …”

He’s rambling now, his words tumbling out in a rush, driven by the primal need to claim you, to mark you as his in every possible way. His hand on your stomach moves, sliding down to press against your clit, his fingers rubbing in tight, controlled circles that have you crying out, your body tightening around him in response.

“You’re so beautiful like this …” he groans, his hips grinding against you as he pushes deeper, his knot swelling even more, locking him in place. “So perfect … so ready for me … ready to take everything I give you …”

His words are a mix of praise and possession, each one sending a new wave of heat through your body, making you shudder in his arms. He’s relentless, his thrusts slower but no less intense, each one driving his knot deeper, making you feel every inch of him, every pulse of his cock inside you.

“You belong to me,” Oscar growls, his voice low and rough, his teeth grazing your skin again, this time biting down just enough to leave a mark, a fresh claim on top of the one he’s already made. “Only me … forever …”

The possessiveness in his voice is overwhelming, the need in him so raw, so powerful that it feels like it’s consuming you, pulling you under. You can feel his knot pressing against your walls, the sensation so intense that it’s almost painful, but in the best possible way. Your body is trembling, on the edge of something that feels like it might break you, and Oscar is right there with you, pushing you closer and closer to that precipice.

He shifts his weight, pressing down on your stomach again, making you cry out as the pressure on his knot intensifies. “Gonna fill you up … make sure everyone knows you’re mine …” he murmurs, his voice a rough, possessive growl. “No one else … only me …”

His fingers on your clit work faster, harder, driving you towards the edge, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips, the sound muffled by the way you’re biting your lower lip, trying to hold on to some semblance of control. But it’s slipping away, fast, and you can feel yourself spiraling, your body tightening around him, your muscles tensing as you approach the brink.

“Oscar … please …” you manage to gasp, your voice barely more than a whisper, but he hears you, and it only spurs him on.

“That’s it … let go for me …” he growls, his voice rough with need. “Be a good omega … let me take care of you …”

The words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, your body convulsing around him as the orgasm tears through you, waves of pleasure crashing over you in a relentless tide. You can feel the way your walls clamp down on his knot, the pressure driving you higher, making you cry out his name again and again.

Oscar isn’t far behind you, his body tensing as he feels you fall apart around him. His hips jerk, his knot swelling to its full size as he buries himself as deep as possible, his cock pulsing as he comes, his seed filling you in thick, hot waves. He groans, his head dropping to your shoulder as he grinds against you, his hands gripping your waist so tightly that it’s almost painful, but you don’t care. The sensation of being filled by him, claimed by him, is too much, too overwhelming, and it sends you spiraling again, your body shaking with the aftershocks.

Oscar’s breathing is ragged, his body trembling as he holds you close, his knot keeping him locked inside you, making sure you take every last drop of his seed. He’s still murmuring in your ear, his voice soft and rough, a mix of praise and possessiveness that makes your heart race.

“You’re mine … my perfect omega …” he whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, kissing the fresh mark he’s left there. “No one else … no one else will ever have you …”

You shiver, your body still trembling with the aftereffects of the orgasm, and you can only nod, your voice lost to the haze of pleasure that still lingers in the air. Oscar’s hands move to your hips, pulling you closer, holding you tight as he rides out the last waves of his release, his body tense and trembling.

It takes a long time for the intensity to fade, for the world to slowly come back into focus. Oscar’s breathing eventually evens out, his hold on you loosening slightly as the last vestiges of his rut start to dissipate. He’s still inside you, his knot keeping him locked in place, but the urgency, the desperation, has faded, replaced by a quiet, almost tender possessiveness.

“Are you okay?” He asks after a long moment, his voice soft, a little hesitant, as if he’s worried that he might have been too rough, too possessive.

You nod, your head resting against his shoulder as you try to catch your breath, your body still buzzing with the aftershocks. “I’m okay,” you manage to say, your voice a little hoarse from all the crying out you’ve done.

Oscar’s hand moves to your hair, stroking it gently, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier actions. “You were perfect,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet, reverent awe. “So perfect for me.”

A soft smile tugs at your lips, and you close your eyes, leaning into his touch, the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, lulling you into a state of contentment. There’s something about being in his arms, being claimed by him so completely, that makes you feel safe, loved, cherished.

After a few more minutes, Oscar shifts slightly, testing the tightness of his knot, but it’s still too swollen to pull out, so he just holds you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “We’ll stay like this for a while,” he says softly, his voice warm and comforting. “I don’t want to hurt you by pulling out too soon.”

You hum in agreement, your body relaxing against him as you let the warmth and security of his embrace wash over you. There’s no rush, no need to move or do anything but bask in the afterglow, in the warmth of each other’s presence.

As the minutes tick by, Oscar continues to murmur soft words of praise and love, his hands gentle as they caress your back, your hair, your skin. “You’re going to be the best mother,” he whispers, his voice filled with a quiet certainty that makes your heart swell. “Our pups are going to be so lucky to have you.”

***

It’s a quiet morning, the sun just beginning to filter through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. You’re curled up in Oscar’s arms, the warmth of his body enveloping you, his scent surrounding you like a protective blanket. His breath is slow and steady against your skin, his nose pressed against the sensitive spot on your neck where his mating mark sits, a constant reminder of his claim on you. The world outside doesn’t matter here, in this little bubble of comfort and safety you’ve created together.

Oscar shifts slightly, his hand running up and down your back in slow, lazy strokes. You feel his lips brush against your skin, soft and lingering, before he presses his nose more firmly against your mating gland, inhaling deeply. He’s been doing that a lot lately, burying his face in your neck, breathing in your scent like it’s the most precious thing in the world. There’s something almost reverent about the way he does it, like he’s trying to memorize every single part of you.

“Your scent’s different,” Oscar murmurs against your skin, his voice a low, sleepy rumble that vibrates through you. He nuzzles closer, his nose brushing along the line of your neck, taking another deep inhale. “It’s sweeter … richer.”

You blink, the words slow to sink in through the haze of sleep still clouding your mind. “Different?” You ask softly, your voice still thick with sleep.

Oscar nods, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile against your skin. “Yeah … different,” he repeats, his hand moving to rest on your stomach, his fingers splayed out across your skin. “I think … I think you’re pregnant.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and it takes a moment for them to fully register. Pregnant. The thought sends a warm flush through your body, your heart skipping a beat. You shift slightly in his arms, turning to look at him, your eyes wide and searching.

“Pregnant?” You echo, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud might break the spell.

Oscar’s smile widens, and he nods again, his hand on your stomach pressing down gently, almost possessively. “Yeah,” he says softly, his voice filled with awe and a deep, overwhelming joy. “You’re carrying our pup.”

The reality of it hits you all at once, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions — happiness, love, a touch of fear, but most of all, an overwhelming sense of rightness. This is what you’ve always wanted, what you’ve dreamed of since the moment Oscar first claimed you, and now it’s real. You’re going to be a mother. You’re going to have a family with him.

Oscar’s hand moves from your stomach to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that slips free. “Hey,” he murmurs softly, his voice full of warmth and tenderness. “Why are you crying, love?”

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you lean into his touch. “I’m just … so happy,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“It’s real,” Oscar assures you, his thumb continuing to stroke your cheek, his eyes filled with a deep, unwavering love. “You’re going to be the most amazing mother, I know it.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you, the warmth of his touch grounding you, anchoring you to this moment. When you open them again, Oscar is still watching you, his gaze intense, filled with a possessive pride that makes your heart race.

His hand slides back down to your stomach, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin, and you can see the way his pupils dilate, his breathing growing a little heavier. “You’re carrying our pup,” he says again, his voice rougher now, laced with an edge of desire. “My pup.”

The way he says it, the raw possessiveness in his voice, sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the heat building between you again, the need that’s never far from the surface when you’re with him. Oscar’s hand moves lower, his fingers slipping between your legs, and you gasp at the sudden, overwhelming sensation, your body instinctively arching towards him.

“Oscar …” you breathe, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and need.

He doesn’t answer with words, instead, his lips capture yours in a deep, hungry kiss, his hand moving to position you just right, and then he’s slipping inside you, the sensation of him filling you again like coming home. You moan into his mouth, your fingers gripping his shoulders as he moves slowly, deliberately, savoring every moment, every sensation.

Oscar pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze burning with an intensity that takes your breath away. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, his hands moving to hold your hips, guiding you as he moves. “So proud … and so lucky.”

You can’t find the words to respond, too lost in the feeling of him inside you, the way he’s filling you so completely, so perfectly. He moves with a slow, steady rhythm, his hands holding you close, keeping you grounded in this moment, in the connection between you. Every thrust, every movement is filled with a deep, reverent love, a celebration of the life you’re creating together.

“You’re going to be such a good mother,” Oscar whispers, his voice a low growl in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re perfect … so perfect for me … for our pup.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, your muscles tightening around him, drawing him deeper. Oscar groans, his grip on your hips tightening, his pace quickening just slightly, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate as the need to claim you again, to mark you as his, takes over.

“Mine,” he growls, his voice rough with possessiveness, his lips brushing against your neck, right over your mating mark. “All mine.”

You can only moan in response, your body moving in sync with his, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you, building towards something that feels like it might consume you whole. Oscar’s hands move to your stomach again, pressing down gently, reminding you of the life growing inside you, and the sensation is enough to push you over the edge.

With a cry, you shatter around him, your body convulsing with the force of the orgasm, your muscles tightening around him, pulling him deeper. Oscar follows moments later, his body tensing as he comes inside you, filling you with his seed, his hands holding you close, keeping you grounded as you both ride out the waves of pleasure together.

The world slowly comes back into focus, the intensity of the moment fading into a warm, comforting afterglow. Oscar’s breathing is heavy, his arms wrapped around you as he holds you close, his body still pressed against yours. You can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear, the warmth of his skin against yours, and it’s enough to make you feel safe, loved, cherished.

After a long moment, Oscar shifts slightly, his arms tightening around you as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of emotion. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice still a little shaky from the intensity of it all.

Oscar’s hand moves to rest on your stomach again, his fingers tracing gentle circles over the skin. “Our pup is going to be so lucky,” he says softly, his voice filled with a quiet awe. “They’re going to have the best mother.”

You smile at that, a soft, contented smile as you snuggle closer to him, letting the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his breathing, lull you into a state of peace. For a while, you just lay there together, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten in the warmth and safety of this moment.

But as the minutes tick by, a thought begins to creep into your mind, a worry that you can’t quite shake. The thought of bringing a child into the world, of raising them, brings with it a flood of emotions — joy, excitement, but also fear. And there’s one fear that lingers more than any other, one that you can’t push aside.

After a long moment, you finally find the courage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. “Oscar …”

He hums in response, his hand still resting on your stomach, his fingers tracing gentle patterns over your skin.

“If we have an omega pup …” you start, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of the words. “Promise me … promise me they’ll never be taken away to an omega training school. Not like I was.”

Oscar’s hand stills on your stomach, his body tensing slightly beneath you. There’s a long pause, and you can feel his heart start to race beneath your ear, his breath catching in his throat. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough with emotion. “I promise,” he says, his voice filled with a quiet, fierce determination. “I’ll never let that happen. I would die before I let anyone take our pup away from us.”

You close your eyes, a wave of relief washing over you at his words. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice filled with gratitude and love.

Oscar’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. “I’m thankful that the school meant I could find you,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion. “But I’d die before letting any of our pups go through what you did. They’ll never know that kind of life. They’ll have us — always.”

The words settle deep in your chest, soothing an ache you hadn’t even realized was still there. The fear that had been gnawing at you dissipates in the warmth of his embrace, replaced by the quiet certainty that Oscar means every word. He would fight for you, for your future, for your family. He already has.

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze, and the intensity of the love you see there steals your breath away. He’s watching you with an unwavering focus, his eyes soft but determined, like you’re the most important thing in the world to him. And you are.

You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, a silent thank you for the promise he’s just made, for the future you know you’ll build together. Oscar responds with a hum of contentment, his hand slipping up to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“We’re going to be okay,” he whispers, and it’s not just a promise — it’s a vow. “You, me, and our pup. We’re going to be more than okay. We’re going to be happy.”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips as you let the last of your worries melt away, replaced by the overwhelming sense of rightness that comes with being here, in this moment, with him. You believe him. You believe in the life you’re building together, in the love that will carry you through whatever comes next.

As you settle back down against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful drowsiness, you feel more content than you’ve ever felt in your life. Oscar’s hand continues its gentle caress over your stomach, his touch soothing and protective, and you know without a doubt that he will always be there for you, for your family.

***

10 Years Later

The sun is shining brightly as you walk hand-in-hand with Oscar, your large family trailing behind you like a small parade. The paddock is bustling with activity, but the familiar sights and sounds of race day are a comforting background as you make your way through the crowd. Your hand rests on your rounded belly, a gentle reminder of the life growing inside you. The warmth of Oscar’s grip on your other hand grounds you, a constant source of strength and love.

Your eldest, an alpha, walks beside you, his protective nature evident in the way he keeps an eye on his younger siblings. The twins, an omega boy and girl, chatter excitedly as they try to keep up with their older brother, their energy infectious. The rest of your pups, a mix of alphas, betas, and omegas, follow close behind, their laughter and playful teasing filling the air.

As you near the entrance to the paddock, a reporter spots Oscar and approaches with a microphone, a camera crew in tow. The reporter’s eyes widen slightly as they take in the sight of your large family, but they quickly compose themselves, flashing a polite smile.

“Oscar, a quick word before you head inside?” The reporter asks, holding out the microphone.

Oscar glances at you, a smirk already tugging at the corner of his lips, before nodding to the reporter. “Sure, why not?”

The reporter’s gaze shifts between you, Oscar, and your brood of children, clearly trying to figure out how to phrase their question delicately. “It’s not every day we see a Formula 1 driver with such a large family,” they begin, their tone carefully neutral. “If you don’t mind me asking, what made you decide to have so many pups?”

Oscar’s smirk deepens, and he pulls you closer to his side, his arm sliding around your waist possessively. The gesture is as much for your comfort as it is a display of his pride in you and your family. He takes a moment, clearly enjoying the reporter’s slight discomfort, before he leans in just a little, his voice low and confident.

“Well,” Oscar starts, his eyes flicking down to you with a look that’s nothing short of adoring. “If you had a perfect omega like mine, you wouldn’t be able to resist either.”

The words are simple, but the way he says them — his voice dripping with pride, love, and just a hint of that possessive edge — makes the reporter blink, momentarily taken aback. The camera catches the way Oscar’s hand rests protectively on your stomach, the way he holds you close as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. It’s clear to everyone watching that Oscar means every word.

You can’t help but smile at his response, a warmth spreading through your chest at the unabashed way he shows his love for you and your family. The reporter regains their composure quickly, nodding with a polite smile, though there’s a hint of envy in their eyes.

“That’s certainly a lovely sentiment,” the reporter says, recovering quickly. “It’s wonderful to see a family so full of love and happiness.”

Oscar’s smirk softens into a genuine smile, and he nods. “We’re very lucky,” he agrees, his voice full of affection. “Family is everything to us.”

The reporter glances back at your children, who are now gathered around, their attention divided between the camera and each other. The twins are whispering excitedly to one another, their matching wide eyes reflecting the curiosity only children can have. One of the younger alphas is tugging on the sleeve of your oldest, asking if they can watch the race from the best spot on the pit wall.

“How do you manage with so many little ones, especially with such a demanding career?” The reporter asks, genuinely curious now.

Oscar chuckles softly, glancing at you with a knowing smile. “It’s not always easy, but we make it work. We’ve got a good system in place, and it helps that they love being around the track as much as I do. They’ve grown up with it, so it’s like a second home to them.”

You nod in agreement, your free hand absently rubbing your belly as you listen. “And they look out for each other,” you add, smiling at your children. “The older ones help with the younger ones, and we make sure to spend as much time together as we can. It’s a team effort.”

The reporter smiles, clearly charmed by the image of your close-knit family. “It sounds like a wonderful way to raise a family,” they say. “Thank you for sharing that with us.”

Oscar gives a polite nod, then glances down at you, his eyes softening. “We should get inside,” he murmurs, his tone indicating that the interview is over.

You nod, and together, you turn to lead your family toward the entrance to the paddock. The reporter calls out a final thank you as the camera crew packs up, but you’re already focused on the day ahead, your mind shifting to the race and the time you’ll spend together as a family.

As you walk through the paddock, you can feel the curious glances of team members and other drivers as they take in the sight of your large family. But you’re used to it by now — the whispers, the stares. It doesn’t bother you. If anything, it only strengthens your resolve to live your life on your own terms, to build the family you’ve always dreamed of.

Your children, oblivious to the attention, continue their playful banter, their excitement for the race palpable. They’ve grown up in this world, surrounded by the roar of engines and the thrill of competition, and it’s as much a part of them as it is of Oscar. They’ve inherited his passion for racing, but they’ve also inherited something far more important — his love, his strength, and his tireless devotion to family.

As you approach the McLaren garage, you catch sight of Lando, who’s already suited up and chatting with a few engineers. He looks up and grins when he sees your family, waving you over.

“Hey, Piastri clan!” Lando calls out, a playful twinkle in his eye. “You lot taking over the paddock today?”

The kids immediately perk up at the sight of their favorite “Uncle Lando,” and before you know it, they’re rushing over to him, peppering him with questions about the race and begging for stories about his latest adventures on the track.

Oscar chuckles, giving Lando a mock glare. “Don’t spoil them too much. I still need them to behave for the race.”

Lando laughs, ruffling the hair of one of the younger alphas. “No promises, mate. You know I can’t resist these little troublemakers.”

You smile at the easy camaraderie between the two drivers, a bond that’s only grown stronger over the years. It’s clear that Lando cares deeply for your family, and you’re grateful for the role he plays in your children’s lives.

As the kids gather around Lando, hanging on his every word, Oscar pulls you aside, his hand resting on your lower back as he guides you to a quieter corner of the garage. Once you’re out of earshot, he turns to you, his eyes searching your face with a tenderness that never fails to make your heart skip a beat.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You nod, leaning into his touch. “I’m fine,” you assure him. “Just … taking it all in.”

Oscar smiles, his gaze drifting down to your belly before meeting your eyes again. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?” He murmurs. “All of this — our family, the race, everything.”

“It is,” you agree, your voice soft. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

***

The penthouse suite is filled with the familiar sounds of a family settling in for the evening — a mix of laughter, playful bickering, and the rustle of blankets being shared and tugged over laps. It’s movie night, a ritual that’s become sacred in your household, especially after a long weekend at the track. The air is thick with the scent of popcorn, and the oversized sofa is crowded with a tangle of limbs, all jockeying for the best spot to cuddle up for the night.

You’re nestled comfortably against Oscar’s side, his arm draped around your shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. Your oldest, Liam, an alpha who has inherited Oscar’s fierce determination, is sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring intently at the screen, trying to get the movie started. His younger brother, Dylan, a beta, leans over his shoulder, offering unasked-for advice.

“Just press play already,” Adeline, one of the omega twins, groans dramatically from her spot on the couch, her head pillowed on her twin brother Theo’s lap. “We’ve been sitting here for ages.”

“It’s not that easy,” Liam mutters, his brow furrowing in concentration as he navigates through the menus. “These remotes are weird.”

“They’re exactly the same as the ones at home,” Oscar says with a chuckle, but there’s no judgment in his tone, just the easy patience that comes from a decade of fatherhood.

Across the room, Zara and Oliver, another alpha-beta pair, are busy constructing a fortress of pillows and blankets at the end of the sofa, clearly uninterested in the movie and more focused on their own game. They’re whispering conspiratorially, planning some elaborate attack on their siblings that will no doubt result in a mock battle before bedtime.

You smile at the sight of them all — your eight pups, each so different and yet so bonded by the shared experiences of growing up in the whirlwind that is life with an F1 driver and his omega. The love you see in their eyes, the easy way they interact with each other, it’s everything you ever wanted, everything you never dared to dream about when you were younger.

Oscar’s hand slides up to your neck, his thumb brushing over your mating mark. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively lean into his touch. He chuckles softly, dipping his head to press a kiss to the spot, his lips lingering as if savoring the taste of your skin.

“Dad,” Theo groans, lifting his head to glare at Oscar. “Do you have to do that right now?”

“What?” Oscar lifts his head just enough to give Theo an innocent look, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him. “I’m just reminding your mother how much I love her.”

“Gross,” Adeline mutters, her nose wrinkling in exaggerated disgust. “Can’t you wait until after the movie?”

“Yeah, seriously,” Zara pipes up from the fort, peeking out from behind a wall of pillows. “No one wants to see that.”

Oscar just laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that you can feel vibrating through your whole body. He pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “They’re just jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” You whisper back, though you already know the answer.

“That I have the most perfect omega in the world,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. “And I’m not afraid to show it.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, the warmth that blooms in your chest at his words. Even after all these years, after all the changes and challenges, the love between you hasn’t dimmed. If anything, it’s grown stronger, more resilient, like a fire that refuses to go out no matter how hard the winds of life try to snuff it out.

“Alright, alright, enough of that,” Liam says, finally getting the movie to start. “Can we just watch this before bedtime?”

Oscar pulls back, giving the kids a mock-salute. “As you wish.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence as the opening credits roll, and you settle back into Oscar’s embrace, your head resting on his chest. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing, and you squeeze gently, letting him know without words how much you appreciate him — how much you love him.

As the movie plays, the pups gradually grow quieter, their energy from the day’s excitement starting to ebb away. One by one, they begin to drift off, their heads lolling onto each other’s shoulders, or in some cases, onto their parents.

Adeline is the first to go, her breathing evening out as she curls up against Theo, who’s already half-asleep himself. Liam manages to stay awake a little longer, but soon his eyelids grow heavy, and he slumps over, using Dylan as a pillow. Even Zara and Oliver, who had been so animated just moments before, have stopped whispering, their fort abandoned as they snuggle into the cushions.

You glance up at Oscar, who’s watching the scene with a look of pure contentment. He meets your gaze, his eyes softening with a tenderness that makes your heart swell.

“Look at them,” you whisper, your voice filled with awe. “How did we get so lucky?”

Oscar smiles, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I ask myself that every day.”

You press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart, and he tightens his arm around you in response, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting reminder of his presence.

As the credits begin to roll, Oscar shifts slightly, careful not to wake the pups who are using him as a makeshift bed. “Should we carry them to their rooms?”

You shake your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Let them stay. They’re all together, and I don’t want to disturb that.”

Oscar chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re too soft on them.”

“Maybe,” you concede, but there’s no real reproach in your tone. “But they’re only little for so long. I want to hold onto this for as long as I can.”

Oscar’s expression softens even further, and he tilts your chin up, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. “You’re a good mother,” he murmurs against your lips. “The best.”

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, in the love that has seen you through so much. When you finally pull away, your heart is racing, and you’re left feeling light-headed, like you’re floating on a cloud of pure happiness.

As you both settle back down, Oscar’s hand rests protectively on your growing belly, his thumb tracing slow circles over the spot where your newest pup is nestled. You place your hand over his, feeling the connection between you, Oscar, and the life growing inside you.

The room is quiet now, filled only with the soft sounds of breathing and the occasional rustle of a blanket as one of the pups shifts in their sleep. The city twinkle outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft glow over the room, but inside, it feels like a world of its own — a world where nothing can touch you, where you and your family are safe and happy.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of Oscar’s embrace and the contentment of the moment wash over you. As you drift off to sleep, surrounded by the people you love most in the world, you can’t help but think that this is what happiness truly is — these simple, quiet moments that make life so incredibly beautiful.

[allophonicmess]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Act 1

Remember that inspo I posed the other day? I coudn't let it go and decided to write a three part fic based on it.

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool& Wolverine, descriptions of a panic attack, angst, implicaded age gap

word count 2k

No beta and English isn't my first language

there will be fluff later on but sadness first:

Too Sweet

Logan felt a great mix of emotions since he had followed that red-ass clown Wade into this universe. Most of it was anger, confusion, rage… But In that moment as he was sat on the black beat-up couch among Wade’s friends… He was overwhelmed.

Not by sensory overload, although that casserole that blind Al had made did stink up the place with garlic-

He was overwhelmed by the feeling of happiness, joy and companionship of the people around him. He hadn’t felt that way in ages if he ever did at all. He never felt that way with his team before everything happened.

He liked them, sure. But this company of weirdos shared a Kinmenship he never got to experience.

“Hey, Peanut! Are you angrily staring off into space to allow for good exposition?” Wade had plopped down on the couch right next to him. His jeans-clad thigh rubbed right up to his. At this point, Logan had given up on trying to keep him out of his personal space.

The older man frowned and stared at Wade next to him. His beer was getting warm but he didn’t feel like giving up his spot on the couch.

“The fuck are you talking about?” He huffed, taking another sip of his beer. But Wade just clicked his tongue, scooting even closer to Wolverine.

“Aww, you know what I mean! You are big and gruff and don’t talk that much… It’s kinda hard to capture you in writing you know. There are only so many words in the English language to describe your grunting and-“

“Are you done?” Logan sighed, finishing his drink. He was starting to regret coming with Wade. Getting drunk in some shit hole of a bar sounded better than listening to Wade's babbling.

“See! That’s what I mean. Sigh is nice, sure but it doesn’t quite capture the nature of those beautiful noses you make, big boy.” Wade petted Logan's thigh, which the older man quickly pulled away as he stood up abruptly.

“Jesus fucking- Can’t you annoy someone else? You got all of these muppets to talk to. Stop bothering me god damn it.” Logan placed the empty bottle down on the couch table. He scanned the room, looking for someone else that Wade could annoy to death. His eyes landed on the brunette… Vanessa… He knew that something had been going on between Wade and her. He never told him the details but from the pining look Wade gave her and the sad as fuck sighs he made, it was clear that the motherfucker wasn’t over her.

“Go and talk to the girl for god's sake. She might be the only one here to appreciate it.” He grinned at Wade, enjoying how his stupid grin faltered even for just a second. He leaned down on Wade's level, whispering to him in an overly joyous manner. “It might even get you laid.”

They stared at each other for a hot minute. Both men tying to provoke the other into action. But Logan was getting bored so he pushed “I might try if you don’t have the balls-“

“Fine!” It came out way too loud. Wade got up quickly trying to keep up his jolly attitude. “Fine, I will. But not because you said so.”

“Or threatened you.”

“You didn’t threaten me.”

“Sure, if you need to believe that” Logan got back onto the couch, now stretching out lazily across it. He closed his eyes, pretending to snooze.

There was no witty comeback, which surprised Logan. But it only came to show that Wade was serious for once.

Logan would never tell but he warmed up to Deadpool. He respected the man, despite his annoying and borderline brain-rotting bad humour. But he had principles. He cared for those around him, loved them dearly and would do anything to protect them. He did in fact. Logan spread out on his worn leather sofa is proof of it. He hated to admit it but Wade was the better man of the two. He didn’t let those he loves down, running away like the drunk asshole Logan is. Wade would have come to help her, would have-

The obnoxiously loud ringing of Wade’s apartment doorbell ripped Logan out of his self-deprecating talk. He blinked against the bright ceiling light and watched as Wade sighed softly. He had just started his conversation with Vanessa and it seemed to be quite a good talk from the looks of it. He seemed frustrated to be ripped away from it. Wade nodded softly, towards Vanessa, excusing himself but he was stopped by Colossus.

“No please Wade, I get it. You seem to be engaged in an interesting conversation.” The 7’5’’ metal man said, touching Wade by the shoulder to turn him back towards to woman. Logan huffed, he wasn’t the only one trying to get Wade laid.

The giant stomped towards the door, turning the doorknob that looked comically small in his silver hand to let the latecomer in.

“Hi! I’m so sorry for being late. I still had to finish some work. It’s the end of the semester, you know how it is.” A sweet voice called from outside.

Then two things happened at the same time. It was like a push and pull.

Ellie, Yukio, even that odd taxi driver… they all turned towards the door in excitement. Smiling and wooing at the woman that just entered the apartment with a cake carrier tucked under her arms.

Logan on the other hand? He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He sat there, staring as Colossus pulled her into a big hug, lifting her off the ground before taking the container off her hands to allow the others to greet her. She was smiling, laughing at some joke Ellie had cracked at her.

She looked younger. Maybe she was, who knows how time worked in this universe. Or it was the lack of stress she had to face, no heartbreak, no constant rejection from a bastard that couldn’t see that the best thing was right in front of him.

“Ah, there you are! We were starting to miss you!” Wade pulled her into a tight hug. He seemed to be content. And the older man cursed himself for even caring about it.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, or so he hoped. Maybe she didn’t know him. It would be for the best.

“Yeah, I already told Piotr, I had to finish some lesson planning at the academy before the school year is over.” She replied as she greeted Vanessa and the rest of the group.

“Oh right. You are the only one that actually knows what she’s doing at that school.” Wade joked, earning a playful remark from Colossus.

So she also studied at a human university before starting at the school, Logan noted. He was still stuck on the couch, feeling unable to move as he kept staring at her.

“You know her?” The sudden comment coming from right next to him made Logan flinch.

“Whoa, relax man. I just noticed you staring at her for like 5 min straight. And you don’t seem too happy about her being here.” Ellie stood next to him, casually watching the scene just as he did.

“None of your fucking business.” Logan managed to spit out. While he did get startled, the interruption helped him to finally feel able to move again. And it happened just at the right moment. He needed to get the fuck out of there.

Ellie just huffed, watching Logan get up on shaky legs. It could just be from the constant level of alcohol in Logan’s blood, making his knees weak, or the age. But she suspected that there was more.

Yet Logan’s attempt at a quiet escape was hindered by Piotr, calling him to come to the kitchen to introduce the two.

“Come to kitchen! I want you to meet my good friend Y/N. She also works at the school. You will like her”, the man sounds proud. He should be.

Logan ignored him, pushing his way through the small crowd with shaky steps. Why was he sweating for god's sake?

“Logan!”

“No” He called, breathing was getting harder again.

“Logan!”

“I’m good! I’m-“ He finally reached the door, rattling the doorknob and cursing that his fucking fingers got shaky. Everything was too loud and too hot and too-

“Wade, it’s fine. He doesn’t have to.“ She tried to stop the two men next to her from calling the man over. He was clearly in distress and it hurt her to watch him fumble on his way out. There were only so many people that were scared of her outside the battlefield.

She had met “their” Logan, but only briefly at some anniversary event. They had simply mismatched their time at the school. He left shortly after Y/N started working and they hadn’t met much. She wondered what the other her must have done to him to cause such a reaction.

Finally. Fucking finally. The door opened and Logan simply burst into the hallway, rushing down the steps to feel the air rush back into his lungs. A fucking embarrassment. That is what he was. The Wolverine scared shitless by a woman that doesn’t even know him.

But the other one did and it killed her.

“Logan, what in the ever-loving- fuck was that?” Wade had run after him. He just couldn’t leave it alone, could he?

“Fuck off.” Logan breathed weakly. He felt tears prickling in his eyes and it made him hate himself just a little bit more.

“You just running off? Scared of a girl?” Wade kept pushing, following Logan as he walked down the familiar street towards his bar of choice. That being the cheapest and quietest he could find in the city.

“Scared you can’t get one off? I don’t wanna make predictions but man, I think she is into the dark brooding type” he kept pushing “ Or you know what? If I can’t get Vanessa laid I might try with her, I mean she is quite-“

That made Logan snap. Turning around and impaling Wade against the closest wall. Both sets of claws out and push into the other man's torso. He only groaned in return.

“Don’t you fucking dare! Don’t you fucking-“

“Okay, okay, whoa ow… man-“ Wade coughed, lifting his hands in surrender. “ I was only joking man. Unfair. Fuck. I am unarmed-urgh”

Logan retracted the claws letting Wade drop to the floor. He knew the man was joking, he should. But it was all too fucking much too soon. He wouldn’t let it happen again. And how to best prevent the inevitable heartbreak? Don’t even let her get close, to begin with. She didn’t deserve it. She never did in the first place and he would do anything in his power to stop it from happening to her.

“So, you are just leaving me hanging? It’s your party too, you know.” Wade got up, inspecting the bloody holes that stained his new shirt. He cursed softy.  “Damn, it was brand new. Ruining a perfectly good shirt for the exposition”

“Don’t wait for me,” Logan said, turning away from Deadpool. A cheap bottle of whisky was waiting for him to calm his nerves and forget about that fucking stunt. He won’t see her again, not even talk to her or talk about her. It’s for the best. She would agree if she knew,  Logan was sure of it.

New requets for being added to the list via comments on the Masterlist post, please. That helps me to keep things organized :)

Do comment here for feedback and spreading some love ❤️

[lechrts]

Die For You. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Friend!reader

Summary: When he’s the only one that’s allowed to pick on you. (And unfortunately someone else picks on you, and it backfires.)

Word Count: 1.1k

Disclaimer/s: fluff… kinda… defensive!Lando 👅. A tad bit of body shaming i fear …

Vera’s Voice! hi Enya. For U. i hope i did this justice.

The bar was alive with laughter and music, and you were perched at the counter, sipping on your favorite fruity cocktail. As usual, Lando couldn’t resist making a comment the moment he saw you.

“Another one?” He said, sauntering up next to you with a smug grin. “What is that now? Your third? Fourth?“ He grinned with a small pause.

“Be careful. We can’t afford to have you tumbling like a drunk mess in the streets later.”

You glared at him, already irritated. “I can handle myself, and this is my second drink. Thank you very much.” A scoff and eye roll emitted from your body.

“Yeah, right,” He replied, his grin widening. “Say that again when you inevitably start slurring your words and crying about how much you hate tequila.”

“Ha. Funny.” You deadpanned.

“I’m serious,” He pressed, leaning on the counter with a quirked brow and stupid smile. “You’re a lightweight. One more of those, and you’re topless on a counter.”

You scoffed, taking another sip of your drink just to spite him. “And I’m sure you’d enjoy that.”

“Maybe so,” He fired back with a sheepish shrug. “But I’m just looking out for you,” Another wink.

Before you could respond, one of Lando’s mates—you couldn’t remember his name, they weren’t that close honestly—wandered over, clearly overhearing the exchange.

“Seriously,” He said, his eyes scanning the glass in your hand. “Another sugary monstrosity? You know that stuff makes you bloat, right?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You froze, the insult hanging in the air as your self-consciousness surged.

“And for the record,” He continued, smirking like he’d just delivered the joke of the century, “It’s not exactly flattering. Just saying.”

Lando’s head snapped toward him so fast it was almost comical. But there was nothing funny about the deadly look on his face.

“What’d you say?” Lando’s voice was low and ice-cold, a tone you’d never heard from him before as her quirked a brow with a repulsed look.

His friend blinked, caught off guard. “Just telling your friend here that she’s gonna get fat if she continues drinking all that—“

Lando cut him off with a light shove, almost like it was a warning for him to shut up

“Relax, mate. I was just jok—”

“Yeah? Well, it wasn’t funny,” He cut him off sharply, now stepping forward to put himself in front of you. “Who even says that? You think that’s funny?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” The guy stammered, clearly starting to regret opening his mouth.

“Doesn’t matter,” Lando snapped. “You don’t talk to her like that. Ever. Got it?”

“Alright, chill, mate. I didn’t know she was off-limits or whatever.”

“Off-limits?” Lando repeated, his voice rising. “She’s not off-limits, she’s just better than your pathetic attempts at humor. So why don’t you piss off.”

The guy muttered something under his breath before walking away, leaving the two of you standing in tense silence.

“Lando…” You started, but he turned to face you before you could say more.

His expression softened as he ran a hand through his hair. “I hope you don’t believe a word he said.“

You swallowed hard, still feeling the sting of the comment but touched by Lando’s protectiveness. “Thanks for…that,” You said quietly.

“I mean it,” Lando said, stepping closer. “I know I’m a prick but it’s all in good fun.” A pause. “I also never make comments about your appearance.. considering you’re gorgeous…” He trailed off, his sly way of sneaking in a compliment making you slightly blush.

You huffed out a small laugh, your lips twitching into a faint smile. “I don’t know what’s more shocking: that you just defended me or that you actually said something nice for once.”

“Don’t get used to it,” He said, his usual smirk creeping back.

“Of course,” You muttered, rolling your eyes. “Who else will tell me I’m stupid every second they can?”

“Only me,” He added, his tone more serious. “No one else gets to. Not like that.”

You looked up at him, his sincerity catching you off guard. “Deal.”

And just like that, the teasing and bickering was back—but this time, you couldn’t help but feel a little safer, knowing Lando had your back.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ and pls Lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tag list

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-fvx

[saetoru]

Tee…

I’m now on my hands and knees BEGGING for bully Gojo who is (secretly) DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE over the reader PLEASE ANY CRUMBS I WILL TAKE

(you don’t actually have to write this it was just a nice thought)

idkkkkk if it’s rly bully gojo—but he’s definitely a real cunt for sure.

i just think about an asshole! gojo a lot like he’s ur lab partners or something and he does that stereotypical jerk move where he’s like “seriously ?? her ??” when he’s first paired with you. and he’s just naturally an douche, yk ?? wears sunglasses indoors and makes jokes at the professors expense under his breath that gets him snickers and snorts from his frat guys in his class. has to be asked more than once to “please keep it down in the middle of class” by wtv prof he’s in class with.

and he ofc makes u do all the work bc he can’t be bothered—and on the rare occasion that he is bothered, he just does a poor job that’s the bare minimum and sloppy enough that ur like wtv i’ll just do it myself. and then ofc sometimes u don’t have a choice but to meet up to finish something after class every now and then—he wouldn’t care to, but he actually needs to know the stuff for the final report he has to write individually, so he begrudgingly meets up with you, and sometimes you notice his friends give you an amused look when he walks up with them. they snicker before they leave as he sits with you. sometimes they make a snide comment here and there like “have fun with ur super hot date” that makes him roll his eyes—he doesn’t do much to hide the look of distaste on his face.

but then—and he doesn’t even know when it happens—you start to slowly grow on him. because ur actually pretty snarky urself, sometimes making a dry comment here and there about the professor and his stupid bald headed self. sometimes a girl in the distance laughs too hard a group of guys that u roll ur eyes and mumble how “if i had a voice like that i’d never laugh in public” and it makes him snort a bit without meaning to. sometimes you stare daggers at the person who has their music so loud thru their headphones they can’t help but notice u and turn it down in embarrassment. ur actually not as much of a pushover as he thought—you just genuinely think he’s too incapable to help u out that you’ve just shrugged him off and started doing his part. it’s an easy weekly lab class anyway, you don’t need him—and then he realizes that u rly just don’t care for him. his little snickers at u with his friends and their snide comments roll off ur back bc well…he’s him—an asshole little frat boy and u didn’t expect anything better from him. so it makes him a little intrigued—maybe a little wounded in his pride, deep down, because no one has ever been indifferent to him before. they’re either madly in love, or they hate his guts, or they follow his lead. either works—he still gets the attention he craves.

but u just don’t rly care. and ur actually pretty cool, and kinda sorta funny in a way no one else is. he likes it…and fuck, now he’s starting to like you. he can tell bc when his friends ask how his little date with you went, he starts getting a bit huffy ab it bc they don’t need to talk about you. they don’t even know you…but also….its not a date. and that’s the worst part. sometimes it feels like a date. almost—sometimes you both decide to take a break in between and go get a coffee or a light snack. sometimes he’s even paid (to which you look mildly shocked before politely thanking him) and you both walk back to the library while u make light banter and it’s…well, fun. and nice. and your laugh is pretty. and your smile is kinda cute and he (though he hates to admit it) rly likes it when u laugh because of him.

and then things start to get messy—really, he didn’t mean for it to start this way. he really was meaning to ask you in a genuine manner to see u again once the semester was finished. because he’s actually started pulling his weight—he wants u to see him for someone who’s smart. satoru is actually rly rly smart and no one knows it because he doesn’t rly show it but he is. he wants u to see that side of him—somehow there’s some sick validation he rly needs from you knowing he’s not a dense frat guy who drinks and fucks until 3 am every night. so he starts doing his parts and actually communicates with u about sections. so starts ur texting routine—sometimes a little longer than u rly need to for just doing a lab together. sometimes it’s “did u hear ab that girl in our class getting dumped in front of the kfc ??” and sometimes it’s “god our prof rly needs to get some pussy” and other times it’s “look what the guy who sits behind us just posted on his story” and it leads to a few long convos that admittedly…are rly fun. ur so fun. he likes it. he rly does like u and he thinks maybe….maybe he’s grown on u too and you know what ?? satoru’s always a jerk but ur nice and who’s to say he can’t be nice too ?? just for one person. for u, he can be a nice guy—u carried lab all on ur own long enough that u deserve it anyway.

until he gets swayed in that way only a coward can. in that way you do when ur used to being “the man” around ur friends and ur too pressured to keep up that energy for appearances sake bc u don’t wanna be the laughing stock who softened up for “some nerdy chick who’s a nobody.” so he laughs when they laugh at the fact that ur probably “still a virgin who’s never touched a guy before” and then they’re patting gojo on the back and shoving at his shoulder as they laugh harder and suggest that “y’know what would be so funny man ?? if u took her virginity. you could probably do it.”

the thought is sickening because…satoru wouldn’t want to fuck you like that. god, you have him caring about when and how he fucks you—in fact, just thinking about you lewdly makes him feel guilty. disrespectful, even. you’re more than a fleshlight for his dick. since when did he become so respectful ?? but he doesn’t know how to say no, especially when everyone starts agreeing one after the other—and oh no, now they’re betting on how quickly he can do it….and oh, now it’s not just fucking. now it’s “how long until you think she’s head over heels for you? man, that would be a sight, huh ??”

and….well, satoru decides it couldn’t hurt, right ?? he does want to be romantically involved so that would include you being head over heels. hopefully. fingers crossed. and he doesn’t rly want to seem lame in front of the guys either, so he gets to keep both sides of the coin, so is it really that bad ?? maybe not the right idea but certainly the right execution. he’ll treat you well—that much he’s confident of. so he forces out a laugh and says “gimme a month or two, you’ll see.”

and a month or two they give him. and a month or two it takes—but not for you to be head over heels. it’s him who’s utterly and completely obsessed and fallen head first and whatever else they say to describe love because wow. this must be what it is. this must be that stupid fairytale shit they always talk about because fuck, no one has ever looked at him like that. like he’s some miracle to this earth and some wonder only you know of—like you hope it stays that way and that he’s yours and yours alone and no one else comes in to take him away. satoru really likes being yours, it kinda feels better than you being his. being yours means you hold him like that at night and wake him up to a kiss between his brows and sometimes, when he gets those migraines he’s prone to getting, you always seem to know. always seem to understand when to close the blinds and keep quiet and wrap him up in the covers as you rub your thumbs over his temples soothingly.

he almost forgets about that silly little bet he made two months ago when he’s around you. actually, he forgets everything when he’s around you. he’s only ever thinking about you, you, you. when he comes back to his frat house, on the other hand, they’re all gathered around waiting for the newest details. how you must’ve been so pathetically star struck by him. how you must be embarrassingly bad at kissing. how you must stutter over every other word around him. how you must be making a complete and utter fool of urself trying to impress him and be someone you’re not bc the real you would never pique his interest.

they’re wrong ofc. if anyone’s star struck, it’s satoru bc how the hell are u so…cool ?? and so funny and witty and carefree ?? and you’re good at kissing—have him chasing your lips with a whine every time. sometimes you even chuckle at him when he does and make him blush a bit. he’s the one who stutters over his words when he sees you in your little date night outfits. sometimes he watches you drink from your straw and his brain short circuits a little until you snap at him and ask him in confusion if he’s alright. but the real kicker ?? it’s that if anyone’s pretending, it’s satoru. you’re always just you—unapologetically so, that it’s endearing and beautiful and so unearthly he wonders how he got so lucky. but him ?? he’s always acting like some guy he’s not. some chivalrous guy who opens doors and pushes out seats and kisses the back of hands and waits at least a few dates before even considering fucking. some nice, sweet, genuine guy who’s deserving.

he’s not that—never was. if you knew the real him, you’d leave in a heartbeat. it’s a scary thought. a raw feeling he doesn’t like. makes him feel all self conscious and insecure and all that weird shit he never thought he’d feel.

he tries. so hard, he tries to make them forget about that silly little bet and just slowly drop it and maybe even forget ur dating so he can just stay living this peaceful little fantasy with you—but that’s stupid. that’s naive. it’s been 4 months and enough is enough—the guys need to see the look on ur face when u realize what a fool ur being and satoru is “being a lazy ass who’s too comfortable not having for work for pussy these days.” so then there’s a video going around. it’s everyone gathered around on the couch drunk and talking about you. and satoru. you both, in fact. how it’s been two months and u seem desperate for his attention with the shrill little voice you use to call him toru, baby! it’s so, so fucking embarrassing, they say. how you think he likes it. (he does. god he does so much, it hurts. he loves it, actually, when you call him that. makes him feel special in a way he never has.) but then, the worst, most disgustingly nauseous part of the whole thing is when satoru laughs along and plays into their awful words. just lets them talk about you like you’re some piece of meat. something for him to chew up and spit out after he has a taste or you. not even worth savoring and enjoying. he laughs along and agrees—you’re nothing special and he can’t wait until he’s free of you.

that part hurts. that part sucks the most—when he acts like he didn’t tremble under your touch every time you kissed him. like he didn’t beg you to stay just five more minutes! before walking out the door to go home. he acts one way in front of you and one way in front of them and what’s worse ?? you don’t know which one is real. couldn’t tell even if your life was on the line to decide. because there’s no way he’s that good at pretending to be desperately in love, no fucking way. but there’s also no way he can be in love if he’s talking about you like that. that’s not what love is—that’s not what love feels like. that’s not what it means to someone.

you don’t know which satoru is the real one, but you know that neither is worth your time. not if he can’t stick to it.

it’s terrible thing—the way you break up. it’s messy and teary and he’s begging, he’s actually begging. he never thought he’d do that. but he doesn’t even hesitate to plead for you to hear him out. baby, please let me explain. wait, please don’t walk away—please just listen! i can explain.

he can’t explain, though when you as him to. stands there with a bitten bottom lip and teary eyes that are pleading you to just stay with him. to overlook this and just … ignore it like it’s nothing. like what he did and said was just nothing and you can shrug it off like you’re nothing too. like your feelings are nothing and so is your worth and that’s why you should just ignore the way he absolutely destroyed your pride and reputation and dignity and worse….every ounce of your love.

such deep, raw, pure love—it’s almost enough to heal every dry crack and crevice of this earth and bring it back to life.

you look at him with teary eyes and something so broken, it makes him feel like dirt beneath your feet.

“it’s embarrassing, satoru,” you hiss that night through tears, “you’re in your twenties getting a degree and you’re still just a high school bully. life’s really gonna kick you in the ass some day.”

life’s already kicking him in the ass as soon as you walk out. the air is colder. the world is dimmer. food doesn’t taste as good and fuck—there is just so much loneliness when you have no one to be yourself with. when there’s no you.

but he supposes you’re right though—he is just a bully. it’s pathetic, really. and maybe it’s for the best. maybe you don’t deserve someone who’s only ever known how to feel good because someone else doesn’t.

[amirasainz]

Can you do a Lando Norris x Sister where she gets hate? Comfort please

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Behind the screen

Yn scrolled through her phone, her fingers trembling slightly. It was supposed to be a fun way to pass time—a quick look at social media to see what people were saying about the latest race. Instead, her screen was filled with comments that stung more than she wanted to admit.

"Why does Yn look so different? Has she even been eating?"

"It’s like she’s stopped trying altogether. At least put some effort into your looks if you’re going to show up on TV."

"Does she even care about her brother? She’s never at his races anymore."

Her throat tightened as she read each comment, their words echoing in her mind. The weight she’d lost had been unintentional—stress, school, and the whirlwind of her life had taken a toll. And her absence at Lando’s races wasn’t because she didn’t care. She loved her brother more than anything, but sometimes being in the spotlight, even indirectly, was too much.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek as she turned off her phone and tossed it onto the bed. Yn curled up, hugging a pillow close to her chest, wishing she could shrink into nothingness.

That’s when the door to her room creaked open.

“Yn?” Lando’s voice was soft but concerned. He stepped inside, his usual cheeky grin replaced by a furrowed brow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, wiping her face quickly and sitting up. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t buy it. Lando walked over, sat on the edge of her bed, and looked at her intently. “You’re crying. Don’t say it’s nothing. What happened?”

Yn hesitated, but the lump in her throat grew too big to swallow. “It’s just… people online. They’re saying horrible things about me. About my weight, how I look, how I don’t go to your races enough. It’s stupid, I know, but it just—it hurts.”

Lando’s face darkened. “They said what?”

She shrugged, trying to play it off, but her trembling hands gave her away. “It’s not a big deal. People say stuff all the time—”

“No, Yn. That’s not okay.” His tone was sharp, protective. “What the hell is wrong with people?”

“It’s fine, really,” she repeated weakly. “I just need to toughen up.”

“Stop that.” Lando moved closer, taking her hands in his. “You don’t have to ‘toughen up.’ This is messed up, and you shouldn’t have to deal with it. You’re my sister, Yn. No one gets to talk about you like that.”

Yn sniffled, feeling the warmth of his hands around hers. “I just… I hate that they think I don’t care about you. I do, Lando. I just—”

“I know you do,” he interrupted, his voice softening. “You’ve always been my biggest supporter, whether you’re at the track or not. And anyone who thinks otherwise doesn’t know anything.”

She looked down, her tears threatening to spill again. “But they’re right about how I look. I’ve lost weight, and I haven’t been dressing up or putting in effort, and—”

“Yn,” Lando said firmly, cutting her off. “You’re beautiful, okay? Always have been, always will be. And anyone who says otherwise can shove it.”

She let out a shaky laugh, despite herself. “You can’t say that to your fans.”

“Watch me.” Lando’s jaw clenched, and he stood up, pacing the room. “I’m not letting this slide. They think they can say whatever they want because they’re behind a screen. But they don’t get to hurt you. Ever.”

Yn watched him, a mix of gratitude and guilt swirling in her chest. “You don’t have to do anything, Lando. It’ll just blow over.”

“No,” he said firmly, grabbing his phone. “I’m putting an end to this now.”

“Lando—”

He raised a hand to stop her. “I mean it, Yn. This isn’t just about me. If they’re saying this stuff to you, they’ll do it to someone else. And I’m not going to sit back and let it happen.”

Before she could argue further, Lando opened his social media app. She could see the determination in his eyes as he began typing.

----------------------‐---------------------------

A few minutes later, his post was live.

*“I’ve seen the disgusting comments directed at my sister, and I’m absolutely done with it. Yn is one of the most important people in my life, and the fact that anyone thinks it’s okay to tear her down is beyond unacceptable. She doesn’t deserve this, and neither does anyone else.

If this is what being a fan of mine looks like, I’d rather not have fans at all. I won’t be using social media anymore if this continues. Treat people with kindness, or don’t speak at all.”*

---------------------------------‐--------------------

Lando set his phone down and turned back to Yn. “Done. If they want to act like idiots, they can do it without me.”

Yn’s eyes widened. “You didn’t have to do that. You love social media.”

“Not more than I love you,” he said simply, sitting back down beside her. “Yn, you’re my little sister. My job is to protect you. And if that means stepping away from social media or calling out people who think they can mess with you, I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

She leaned into his shoulder, feeling a wave of relief and love wash over her. “Thanks, Lando. You didn’t have to, but… it means a lot.”

“You’re stuck with me,” he said with a small smile, wrapping an arm around her. “And I’ll always have your back. No matter what.”

For the first time that day, Yn felt a little lighter. The hateful comments still lingered in the back of her mind, but Lando’s unwavering support reminded her that she wasn’t alone.

And with an overprotective brother like him, she knew she never would be.

[firelilyfox]

Deadly Eyes

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: se&ual harassment / angst / curses / hateful words / comfort

If someone means harm to the girl he loves, Paul won't hesitate

Words: 1k

_______________________________

You stare at the men and women right in front of you. All of them were looking at you with the same emotions pictured in their faces. Disgust. Outrage. 

Today was the first day after Paul announced your relationship to his people. The Fremen welcomed you with open arms… well some of them at least. Your roots lies with none of the big houses. All you know about your family is, that they were travelers who never lived at the same place for more than a couple of years. You are one of the Lost Ones. But when Paul rescued you from being tortured by the brutal Harkonen a couple months ago, you never thought about traveling somewhere else again. Your people always praised that the soul is a free from wich never settles and never find the one and only home. Paul changed your way of thinking. With him you felt at home for the first time ever. 

„The Mahdi can’t be with someone who is lost“, one of the believers growled as you were passing by. All you wanted to do was taking a walk and exploring the hallways of the Sietch, one of the rocky formations what the Fremen call their home. And now you are standing in front of a hand full of believers who are talking bad about you. 

A old, wrinkly woman hisses. „You don’t belong here, Lost One.“ 

You look at her fully blue eyes. The same color your eyes have turned as an outcome to the effects of spice everywhere. „Please let me through. I don’t wish for trouble.“ 

Now a young man steps right in front of you. Too close to be comfortable with. You try to move and bring some distance between the two of you, but your back almost immediately hits the wall. Your chest tightens up. This feels like a cage. A cage of people who hate you. 

„But you are trouble, whore.“ He couldn’t have been more than five years older than you, but he was so intimidating that you wanted to flee before he would hurt you. You still are one of the Lost Ones. Their are no fighters. Your people staying alive because they run for dear life when problems appear. That’s why the Fremen always looked down on your kind. 

„All your people do, is stealing and living in the shadows. You are not worthy to be here. Your are not worthy to be with Muad’Dib“, he grabbed your neck with a tight grib. „But I’ll find some use for u, don’t you worry.“ 

The others looked away while he is dragging you to a shallow corner at the end of the hallway. Your screams got muffled by his greasy hand and silent tears filled your eyes. The back of your head hit the wall hard and your vision flickers for a moment. Fear crawling all over your body, followed by the tip of his knife. You’re trying to beg for him to stop, but all he does is giggling at your helplessness. 

„I will show you your worth and after that I will give your body to the desert. I will…“ 

A voice is shouting at the near distance. „Where is she?!“ The man fearlessly let’s go of you and hiding his knife. You fall down on your knees as Paul rushes around the corner. Gentle hands pulling you up and you begin to sob, hiding your face at his chest. 

„How dare you to touch her!“ Paul growls at the man who is now lowering his head in respect for his Duke. 

„I did not want to bring any disrespect to you, Mahdi. But this woman damages you reputation. She is not worthy to be …“ but Paul cuts him off. 

„She is equal to me. I am who I am today, because of her. How dare you to speak about her like that?“ His voice became dangerously silent and you could feel under your palms how tense his muscles were. As you look around you discover that people have stopped and watching the scene with wide eyes. 

You reach up to gently touch his cheek, so Paul would look at you. „I’m okay, Paul. Nothing happened. I’m unharmed.“ 

For a moment the coldness in his eyes vanished, but as he looked down at your neck and saw the bruises … he was ready to kill someone. Paul kisses your forehead and it feels like that he needed to do it just to calm himself down, before he would actually cut a throat. His grip around your waist thightens but not in a hurtful way. You never felt more protected as right here in is arms. 

Paul turns his head slowly. A deadly look on his face. The man kneeled down in fear of his punishment. „I will only say this once and for all. Who ever touches this woman and mean harm to her, will be sentenced to death. Without exceptions.“ He looks around, making eye contact with everyone who is watching. „Spread the word. I will personally kill everyone no matter if man or woman.“ 

The Fremen quickly leaving the place murmuring and chattering. The message was clear. If you break this rule, death by Muad’Dip will find you. 

„And for you“, Paul looked down at the man who tried to do unspeakable things to you. His voice full of dark rage. „If you ever come near her again or look at her even from afar, I’ll break your neck.“ He gave two other men a sign to carry him away. 

„I should have known that something like that might would happen“, Paul curses. „I’m so sorry. I should have never left you go alone.“ His eyes meet yours and the deep sorrow in them breaks your heart a little. 

„You couldn’t ever have guessed that. This isn’t your fault and it’s not your job to see something like that before it happens.“ 

Paul pulls you closer now that the two of you are alone. „But is is my job to protect you.“ 

„And you did.“ 

He leans his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath. His body is still tense but his touch is so gently. „I don’t want to imagine what could’ve happened if I weren’t be here on time … I couldn’t…“ his voice breaks. This is the side of him no one ever sees. The softness and the vulnerability. To everyone he is the fearless Muad’Dib. But to you he is Paul Atreides. The man who owns your heart. 

„Then don’t. You saved me. I am right here.“ To prove your point you get on your tiptoes and kiss him softly. Paul cups your face with his hands, holding you so close to him that nothing would have room in between. 

_____________________________________________

Thank you for reading! Comments, ideas & reposts are very welcome <3

[moralesluvr]

KEEP IT QUIET | b. eilish.

ꨄ︎ contents — jealous!mean!dom!billie x sassy!fem!reader, spanking, use of ‘whore/slut’

“you’ve got too much fucking mouth on you.” billie seethed, irritation so prominent on her lips as her hands quickly undid the buttons on your jeans. a blush blossomed against her skin because of how frustrated she was— you knew better than to talk to that girl at that party.

even though you and billie weren’t official, you knew damn well that you were hers and she was yours, and she hated when she’d find you lost in the club, laughing it up and drinking with some random girl, even if you had no intention of hooking up with her.

your clothes found themselves on the floor of billie’s apartment, and she immediately flipped you onto your stomach, “you think you can just go talk to anyone you want? huh?”

“i kind of can, i mean— i do have free will.” you giggle, and that pisses billie off. she growls at you, a low, husky sound— and then you feel something hard and thick stretch out your walls, making a moan pass through your lips. billie’s hands immediately find your hips as she thrusts into you at an angry speed, her fingernails digging into your sides, and she definitely doesn’t care if it pains you.

“don’t say shit else,” she folds her body onto yours to whisper in your ear, “you know good and damn well that nobody could ever fuck you like i can, treat you as good as i can— nobody on this fucking planet.”

you whimper out, feeling the tip of the faux cock press against your cervix, a concoction of pain and pleasure playing on your nerves. billie’s hand comes up to slap against your lips, “don’t even wanna hear you moan. since you wanted to be such a slut, showing your ass to everyone at that club— keep that same energy, you hear me?”

no sound even comes out of your lips because of hoe tight billie’s grip is, so you just nod, obediently, your pussy clenched around billie’s cock as you grip at her bedsheets, your lips threatening to let a moan slip.

your eyes screw shut as billie’s thrusts become more harsh, quicker, deeper. it’s practically bullying the way she fucks into you, your walls aching and needy. her hand suddenly removes itself from your face to give a mean slap to your ass, “you think i should let you cum tonight, my whore?”

“p-please…” is all you can breathe out, your head growing hazy, “sorry…i’m sorry….”

billie scoffs, and that earns you another painful spank, and you can tell she isn’t amused by your forced apology. but it amuses you so well— how she gets so worked up by your sass and back talk, so you giggle out, “s’fine, i-i’ll just…finish myself off…”

“oh, really?” she replies cockily, pulling out of your dripping cunt, the emptiness making you ache. “then do it, slut. go ahead, find a way to make yourself cum.”

you can’t keep up this act anymore. you whine at her, a needy, hungry sound passing through your lips, “no, bils, m’so sorry, i need you….please?”

“yeah, that’s what i thought.”

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[luveline]

Hi jadeeeee I have a request for coworker James! Another man whether it’s at work or somewhere else starts hitting on reader and James get jealous and realizes he hates seeing her with other guys

ty for requesting 💌 fem

It’s another sunny day at the office, but today is the day the vending machine men come in and fill them, so it’s not all bad. The doors and windows are wide open, the air is fresh and clean. 

“It’s too hot,” Remus complains without any real passion. 

“It’s not that bad,” Sirius says, though he raises his hand to begin fanning Remus anyhow. “It feels hotter than it is because of the humidity.” 

“I feel amazing,” James says. He gives you a nudge with his shoe, his hair tickling his neck as he leans back in his chair. “It’s not that hot, is it?” 

“It’s boiling,” you say. 

You were never going to agree with him. It could be sub zero and you’d tell him you were on fire. James rolls his eyes at you and continues a rather lavish existence of sun, breeze, and cold grapes, their crisp insides popping between his teeth. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

James lifts his head. 

“That’s okay,” Jordan says, to James’ immediate affront. There’s no need for the man in charge of maintaining the vending machine to be talking to you in that tone. It’s bordering too sweet. 

“I’m always in your way,” you laugh. 

“You? In my way? Never.” 

You turn to Remus with an obvious expression. Is he flirting with me? it says. 

Remus looks at James —what the fuck?— before he gives you a tentative back and forth of his head, weighing it up. He shrugs. 

James shakes his head resolutely. 

You give them both the silent version of I understand and settle down in your seat again. The vending machine guy (what’s his name again? James can’t remember) pops open the front cover of the machine and takes out the change box. Clearly, he doesn’t categorise you or the boys as a risk of burglary. 

“So,” Jordan says, “how was your weekend? Did you do much?” 

“In this weather?” you ask with light-humoured sarcasm. “I went on a couple of walks, nothing huge. How about you?” 

“Went to a couple of matches.” 

“Rugby or football?” 

“Rugby, always.” 

James feels the pressure of his teeth clenching at the back of his head. “Do you play, mate?” he asks. 

Jordan looks at him in surprise. “No, we just watch. It’s an excuse to have a pint before five.” 

You break two slices of your clementine away from each other. James doesn’t know why, but your gaze is on him, and that’s where he wants it. “Day drinker?” he asks sympathetically. 

“James,” Sirius says, laughing. “Grow up.” 

“Sometimes,” Jordan says. He finishes reinstalling the change holder and starts to push snacks and drinks onto the vending machine shelves. “Gotta have a little bit of fun every now and then, right?” 

He emphasises to you. 

You give a shy smile. “Right.” 

Jordan finishes his job and wishes everyone goodbye quickly after that. You chew your clementine, your finger looped under your bracelet, tugging slowly round and around. He fucked that up for you, didn’t he? You couldn’t get very far with him poking holes at poor Jordan, but… you’d been smiling at him nicely. You’re allowed to smile at whoever you want to, of course you are, so why did James act like that? 

“Sorry,” he says. 

You slide your thumb between slices of clementine. “To me?” you ask from the corner of your mouth. “For what?” 

Sirius and Remus laugh at the same time. 

James ignores them. “I was mean to him. How are you ever gonna get a date if I bully the vending machine guy?” 

“You think I can’t get a date?” you ask. 

“No.” He grimaces. “No, just, he’s a dickhead.” 

“As opposed to who? You?” you ask. 

James is pretty sure his vision goes white. He hates seeing you with other boys, but this isn’t where he wanted the conversation to go. He doesn’t wanna be your boyfriend. He just hates seeing you happy with other people. 

Oh, god, he thinks. That’s horrible. 

“I think you can do a whole lot better than Jacob the vending machine guy.” 

“Jordan,” you correct, laughing. You don’t bring him up on avoiding your real question, perhaps you don’t notice. You just laugh with Remus and pass James a piece of your clementine. “Vending machines are an honest living. Don’t be so classist.” 

“You’re classist,” he rebukes weakly. He ignores Sirius’ knowing gaze to offer you his punnet of grapes. “Horrible woman.” 

“Get it together, Potter.” 

James doesn’t know what to say to you after that, so he says nothing at all. Your clementine is sweet on his tongue. 

[evera-era]

f**k you.

ellie williams x afab!reader

warnings: hate sex, ellie’s rude as shit in the first half, alcohol use, some name-calling, aggressive kissing, fingering, scissoring, brat taming, spanking, edging/overstim… i think thats it

a/n: kinktober’s here! ik im a few hours late guys im sorry. but hopefully this juicyness makes up for it !! wc 3.4k

Ellie couldn’t stand you.

She found you so incredibly annoying, and yet you shared the same friends. Which was the biggest problem, ever.

She never failed to make sure to let you know what she thought of you.

“Hey, idiot. We’re trying to have a conversation. Shut it for once, yeah?”

And you made sure to let her know that the feeling was mutual.

“Suck my dick, Williams.”

And like clockwork, she’d say something along the lines of “Sorry babe. Not into that.”

Truthfully, the two of you had been doing this for a while. This was nothing new. You’d go at eachother back and forth until one of you gets genuinely pissed off. Rinse. Repeat.

Dina hated it because she loves the two of you; she just can’t handle being in a room with both of you at once. Jesse would find it amusing until you and Ellie wouldn’t shut up during a movie.

It didn’t matter what you said or did. Ellie would either laugh, mock, or straight up disagree with you. Even if you stayed quiet and said nothing at all.

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

She’d wait for your response, and when you didn’t have one, she’d keep going.

“No seriously. You look like dogshit.”

“Ellie please shut the fuck up.”

It was like she couldn’t ignore you. As if your presence was so incredibly overwhelming, that she just had to react to everything you did. You didn’t get it.

If you met up with the friend group to eat, Ellie somehow “forgot” to get you something. She’d make plans and purposely exclude you. And if you brought it up, she’d tell you to “chill the fuck out, it’s not that serious.”

You hated Ellie. And yet here you were, six feet across from her, sitting on the rug of her living room floor. Dina had insisted on a friendly get-together at Ellie’s, specifically requesting that “you don’t kill eachother.” You told her you’d try, but made no promises.

“Hey, Jesse.” Ellie said. “Could you grab me and Dina another beer?”

“Ellie,” Dina says. “You didn’t even ask if Y/N wanted one.”

“So?” She replies. “She’s a big girl. If she wants another she can get it herself.”

You rolled your eyes. She always did this — talked about you as if you were the dumbest person to ever exist.

“I’m right here, Ellie.” You snap. “I can hear you.”

“I know.” Ellie says. “That’s why I said it.”

“Guys, please.” Dina groans. “Just one night. One good night is all I ask.”

Jesse brings over more bottles. He cracks one open before handing it to you. Ellie stares at you, waiting for Jesse to hand out the rest before speaking.

“It would be easier if I didn’t have to look at her fuckin’ face all night.”

You scoffed. “You know, you’re really cocky for someone who lives in a fucking garage.”

“You’re lucky I even let your ass in this garage.” Ellie mutters. “Probably tracked in a shitton of dirt.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You ask abruptly.

Dina rubs her temples. “Guys—“

“You that stupid?” She questions. “It means I’m gonna have to sweep once you leave. Don’t want your germs gettin’ on my shit.”

“Fuck this. Nope. Not doing this.” Dina says, getting up from the floor. She whips around to face you and Ellie.

“I have tried to ignore the two of you in hopes of having a good time. I have begged you to get along for once. But clearly, none of it’s fucking working!” She throws her hands up. “I’m done. Seriously — come on, Jesse, we’re leaving.”

Jesse thinks for a moment, then shrugs. He begins walking towards the door with his beer in hand.

“Wait, what?” Ellie asks.

“You guys are gonna sit here and sort this shit out.” She says, throwing on her coat. “Until then, me and Jesse are going somewhere else.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dina—“

“Don’t wanna hear it.” She states as Jesse opens the door for her. “The two of you are smart, figure it out. You can come find us when you’re done.”

“See you,” Is all Jesse says, before pulling the door shut.

You and Ellie look straight ahead.

What the fuck.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You didn’t know what to do. Dina was obviously pissed, but being left alone with Ellie was the last thing you wanted.

It’s as if she could read your mind.

“Get out.”

You raise your brows. “Excuse me?”

“They left because you don’t know when to shut your mouth,” She says. “And I don’t wanna keep hearing it, so get out.”

Your previous desire to get up and walk out of the door suddenly disappears. You set your drink down.

“No.”

“What?”

“You don’t like me? Great.” You say, kicking your feet back. “I don’t like you either. But I’m not gonna do what you say, when you say it, every single fucking time.”

“Wow.” She takes a sip of beer. “You know, you can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Your eyes flash over to the brunette in less than a second. But she doesn’t budge. Just leans into the couch, legs spread.

“Ellie—“ You begin. “What the fuck is your problem with me?”

She smirks as if you said something funny.

“I’m serious. What the fuck is it?” You repeat, staring intently.

“Are you that dense?” She meets your gaze. “Your attitude. If you couldn’t tell, you have a serious attitude problem. Should really get it checked out.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Like you don’t have an attitude problem.”

“Yeah, but that’s me.”

“Oh,” You nod sarcastically. “Okay. Sure, yeah. Because that makes sense.”

“See? Again with the attitude.”

Silence fills the room as you bite your tongue. The fact that you felt the impulse to respond immediately kind of proved Ellie’s point.

It pissed you off that she was right. You did have a bit of an attitude problem with her. In your defense, she never leaves you alone. You get along just fine with everyone else.

You had given up. You were ready to just go home and tell Dina the truth later. But as you stand up, out of absolutely nowhere, Ellie says:

“It sucks, ‘cause you’re hot. It’s a shame you’ve gotta act like such a fuckin’ brat.”

Were your ears deceiving you? Did Ellie fucking Williams just say that?

You laugh it off and shake your head. “You are truly something else.”

“I’m being serious.” She replies. “You could just sit there and look pretty. Don’t know why you choose to be so damn annoying instead.”

“It would be so nice if you just learned when to shut up, Ellie.”

“You gonna make me?” She says, watching you. You sigh dramatically.

“Didn’t think so.”

The way she was toying with you made your skin run hot. You weren’t sure if she really meant what she said, or if she was just trying to get a rise out of you. Either way, her sweatpants and sports bra combo wasn’t helping; you could feel yourself getting worked up.

“What are you getting at?” You blurt out. “What are you trying to do?”

“I’m not trying to do anything,” She murmurs, looking down then back up again. “Are you?”

You laugh harshly. “What the hell makes you think that?”

“You’re an attention whore,” She answers. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

The way ‘whore’ rolled off of her tongue was so incredibly casual. And yet, you enjoyed the fact that she was saying it to you. Pigs must be flying. There was no way this was happening.

“I’m not a whore,” You stated.

“Oh?” She says coyly. “I didn’t call you a whore, I called you an attention whore. But you were quick to argue, so now I’m curious.”

You shift your weight to one leg. “I’m not gonna fuck you, Ellie.”

“Yeah? Then why are you still here?”

You felt your neck and ears become incredibly hot. Ellie leans forward, pushing herself up from the couch and faces you.

“I’d be flattered if you said it’s ‘cause you like me as a person, but we both know that’s not true.”

Her eyes were dazed and unwavering. It could’ve been the alcohol, but it also could’ve been the fact that your mini skirt had been riding up your thighs all night.

And as for you, you surprisingly weren’t repulsed. In fact, you liked seeing Ellie like this. If you were sober you might have dipped already, but your legs were heavy and your panties started to feel very constrictive.

“I think…” She begins walking closer. “That you want the exact same thing. You just act like you’re too good for it.”

You could feel your inhibition weakening. You drunkenly stare up at her. “You think I’m not?”

“I know you’re not.” She takes another step. You go to step back, but your heel hits the wall.

“I don’t blame Dina for trying, but we both know we’re not gonna make up.” Another step.

“No?” You whisper.

“Mm-mm.” Her nose was almost brushing up against yours, now.

The eye contact was unmatched. Ellie wasn’t budging, and neither were you.

“I fucking hate what you do to me,” You whispered against her lips.

She smirks. “I fucking love it.”

Immediately, her lips are engulfing yours, with so much damn fervor and need. You curled your fingers in her hair, and tugged down hard. You didn’t care if you hurt her — after all, she deserved it.

Ellie smiles into the kiss, pulling you in closer as a small grunt leaves her lips. Her legs cage you in against the wall as she forces her tongue into your mouth.

You hated her. You hated her. You hated her.

So how was it possible for her to make you feel so goddamn good?

Her hands begin grasping at the hem of your clothes with frustration.

“Fuck, baby.” She moans. “Take this shit off.”

You were compliant at this point; you merely slid your hands under your shirt and did what she said. Ellie presses her head against your chin, whispering a few more curses as she looks at your exposed breasts.

“So fucking hot,” She groans, pressing her lips to your neck. You whined out of pleasure as you pulled her hips closer to you.

“This is so embarrassing.” You mumble, shutting your eyes.

“Mm,” Ellie hums. “Seem to be handling it quite well, though.”

The brunette begins trailing her kisses downwards. You jump at the new sensation.

“Ellie—“

“Shh.” She murmurs, teething dangerously close to your nipple. “Gotta focus.”

When she latches on, your head immediately falls back. You’re practically speechless as she sucks and swirls her tongue around the hardened bud.

You wanted her to keep going, but you were worried. If Dina and Jesse caught you like this…

As for Ellie, she is absolutely shameless in the way she’s going in on your tits. It was clear that she had wanted to do this for a very long time — she was just being a complete ass about it.

She pulls away with a hard ‘pop’ before looking up at you with her green eyes. “Come here,” She says, grabbing your waist and pulling you down with her.

You gasp as the two of you land on the couch. Her hand quickly finds the back of your neck as she kisses you again, bucking gently against you. A soft moan escapes your lips as you pull back.

“What if Dina and Je—“

“Y/N,” She whispers, pulling her shirt over her head. “I’m in front of you, and I wanna fuck you. Please just shut up for once. Alright?”

You blush, looking down at her chest. Her nipples were poking out, hard as rocks. “You’re so fucking mean.”

“You’re fucking mean,” She says, smirking. “Depriving me of this for so damn long.”

“Didn’t think you wanted me,” You slur against her lips.

“Yeah, well… you are pretty fuckin’ annoying.” She huffs, as you lean in to kiss her again. As the minutes pass, you find yourself rolling your hips against hers.

“More,” You say quietly.

“Hm?”

“Want more of you, Ellie.” You sighed, nudging your fingertips under her waistband. “Please.”

She grins before sliding her sweatpants and underwear off. “Only because you said please.”

When your fingers drag down against her clit, she’s wet, and you absentmindedly moan. She sneers, staring up at you.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothing, just… that was the sluttiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You hum against her skin, gently rubbing your thumb against her hood. “I could be sluttier.”

“Oh yeah?” She responds, grazing her teeth against your jaw.

You drag your fingers from her pussy to your lips, gently engulfing them in your mouth. You keep your eyes on her as you suck her juices off, groaning at the sweet taste.

Ellie’s face becomes that of a pornstar. Her eyes are half-lidded, nearly rolling back as she stifles a moan.

“Holy fuck,” She says, biting down on her lip. Her gaze drops to your lower body, and she begins shoving the fabric of your skirt up.

“What are you doing?” You murmur, watching the skirt bunch around your waist.

“Not gonna waste anymore time,” She explains, tugging at your panties. “I fucking need this pussy.”

You help her remove the undergarment, letting it drop onto the floor. Her hands settle on your ass as you gently lift her leg, lining yourself up against her.

“Fuck yes,” She whispers, watching carefully as you gently slot your cunt against hers.

Her cunt was soft, and incredibly slick and sticky. It takes you a moment to get the right angle before you begin to get a rhythm going.

Once you start speeding up, Ellie practically loses it. She’s breathing like she can’t get enough air.

“Fuck yes.” She repeats, bringing her hand down onto your ass with a hard slap. Her eyes are closed as she scrunches her brows in pleasure. “Holy fucking shit.”

“God,” You moan, sloshing your pussy up against hers. “You’re so wet, Ellie.”

The room becomes one filled with wet noises and moaning. Ellie’s hands are grabbing at everything — your ass, your tits, the couch. She’s in euphoria, seeing stars as she tries not to black out.

“Goddamn,” She mutters. “So fucking good, baby. Doing so fucking good.”

You whimper at the praise, still trying to wrap your head around what was happening. Ellie had been your worst enemy for months, and here you were, bumping clits with her like a fucking slut.

“Shit—“ She grunts, pushing her head back. “I‘m close, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Already?” You joke. “That’s quick, don’t you think?”

She quickly opens her eyes and looks at you. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” You say slyly, slowing down ever so slightly.

She smacks your ass, hard. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You slow down even more, grinning proudly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ellie.”

“Y/N, you better fucking finish me off.”

“But… ” You whisper in an innocent tone. “We’re having so much fun, right?”

“I swear to—“ She exhales vexedly before sinking her nails into your hips. “Fuck it.”

She sits up, grabbing you forcefully before pushing you down so you’ve switched places. Ellie props your leg up on her shoulder.

“Wanna be a fucking brat? Hm?” She whispers, bringing herself down on your cunt harshly.

You moan in response, goosebumps beginning to form on your arms. You place your hands on her abs, pushing slightly in an attempt to get her to let up.

“Ellie, ‘s too much.” You mewl, as she ruts her pussy against yours.

“Shut up,” She mumbles. “You can take it.”

She keeps you down as she fucks you, ramming herself against your cunt. The sloshing of your clits sends you into a spiral.

“Oh my god, Ellie,” You murmur. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” She grunts. “You like this?”

You nod, but Ellie places a sharp slap on your boob.

“Answer me.”

“Y-Yeah,” You stammer, trying to grasp reality as the only thing going through your mind is how good her pussy feels on yours.

She uses her hand and grabs your chin, tilting your head up. “You better not fucking cum until I do, you hear me?”

You nod again. “Y-Yes, Ellie.”

The way Ellie scissors is ruthless. She’s concentrated, hair sticking to her forehead as she stares down at you. She watches the way your tits bounce as she fucks herself on you, watching as you beg her to slow down.

Her teeth clench as she nears her orgasm. She looks up at the ceiling before dropping her head back down.

“Fuck, I’m, shit— ‘m getting close.”

“Yeah?” You murmur.

“Uh-huh.” You bring your hand up to her cheek as she maintains her rhythm.

“Wanna cum with you, Ellie. Wanna cum all over your fucking pussy.”

“Fuck,” She says through gritted teeth. “Fuck yes. Keep talking, just like that.”

Ellie knew she wasn’t very far off. But she figured she’d make the most of it, in case this was the last time she got to see you like this.

“So good, Ellie,” You say softly. “Your pussy feels so fuckin’ good.”

“Yeah?” She exhales.

“Mhm,” You murmur. “Best I’ve ever had.”

Ellie’s eyes roll into the back of her head, her moans becoming choppy. She gently holds your foot as she grinds her hips down faster.

As Ellie becomes wetter, you stiffen and feel your stomach tightening. You were getting really close, and she could feel it.

“Y/N,” She says. “I’m—“

“Me too—“ Is all you can say, before drawling out into a moan. Ellie rides you deep into your high, breathing sporadically as she cums, herself.

For a second, the two of you barely move, merely catching your breaths. But eventually your leg starts cramping, and you slide it off her shoulder.

“Holy fuck.” You whisper. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“I can.” Ellie says, slowly hopping off of you.

“You’re a liar.”

“How?” She says, leaning against the opposite end of the couch. “It was only a matter of time ‘til I got into your pants.”

“Oh,” You scoff. “So it was easy?”

“It was so easy.” She says, smiling. You look at the floor.

“Shut up.” You grin, reaching over to grab your clothes. You slowly put them back on as she copies you.

“Wanna go find Dina and Jesse now?” She questions, pulling her shirt over her head.

“I thought you said we couldn’t,” You say. “Since we weren’t gonna make up.”

“Mm, ‘cause we didn’t.” She states, cocking her head. “I need about three more rounds of this before we re-visit that topic.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You giggle, tossing your jacket at her. She laughs, putting her hands up to shield herself as it hits her.

“I’m kinda serious though,” She says. “You wanna give me head next time? Or…”

You smooth your hair down. “In your dreams, Williams.”

She looks around, contemplating for a moment. “Does that mean I give you head instead?”

“Ellie please shut up now.”

[evolnoomym]

Washing Machine Heart 🩶 Pt.1

Mom’s Best-friend!Joel Miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: Your Mom is not nice to you, her only Daughter, always picking on you whenever she can. To get back at her you decide to seduce and fuck her Highschool Best-friend Joel Miller. Oh she also has a crush on him so that’s a bonus.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, implied abuse, childhood trauma, alcohol, smut, reader has no name only nicknames, size difference, age gap, readers age is mentioned and Joel is more than double sooo, mommy issues, strained relationships, petty shit, cream pie, tittys, choking kind of, teasing, Joel is tiny bit Pervy, of course Daddy kink, unprotected p in v,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: I was mad so this is what I cooked up lol

Shoutout to @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. This is my first time writing smut sooooo be nice please. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly. 🖤

Song’s I listened to while writing:

I Hate My Mom by GRLwood

Class of 2013 by Mitski

I hope ur miserable until ur dead by Nessa Barrett

Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA

Backstabber by Kesha

Jerk by Oliver Tree

You know exactly when the relationship between you and your mother started deteriorating- The day she decided to choose your loser Stepdad, the one she only dated for 4 years, over her own 8 year old daughter. From then on you took a backseat in her life yet she still expected you to take care of her all needs. You hate her for what she did and you miss her like a little kid. You had to drag her home when she drank too much, you can’t even remember how often that happened. Always having to jump in between that asshole and her fighting cuz even though she practically emotionally abandoned you, you still wanted to protect her from harm's way. She forced you to grow up so quickly, it’s her fault you never got a real childhood.

For years you accepted that this is normal. The screaming, the violence and the degrading words became a part of growing up. You were a kid but not clueless, someone who loves you wouldn’t have done all of this. And yet all of them tried so hard to make you shut up and believe it’s what you deserved.

Luckily what happened did not entirely break you. No, you grew into someone who fought for herself since no one ever did that.

Of course you hoped she might realize her mistakes, apologize and change but nothings new with her. She’s great at pretending to be a better person to the outside world, than she is in reality, behind closed doors the mask unveils an ugly woman. A narcissistic self absorbed monster that took all your joy away.

It’s pathetic considering how much she always talks about getting abused by her own father but instead of breaking the cycle she doubled down on it. Going as far as using that as an excuse for what she did to her own child.

She only kinda stopped the abuse once you no longer were a small child. Now that you could fight back she did not corner you anymore.

But just because she couldn’t hit you anymore doesn’t mean the picking on you stopped, no, it was her mission to rid you of the last remaining confidence and self love.

In each screaming match she tried so hard to gaslight you into believing you were crazy for feeling offended by her disgusting behavior.

One time you asked why she hit you as a little kid and the answer left you completely blown away. She expressed that you cried so much, and did it to provoke her. What else could she have possibly done other than raise her hand?

Or another time she refused to acknowledge that she hit you at all but a second later told you that perhaps if she would’ve done worse you would’ve turned out better.

At some point you stopped calling her Mom and only went with her name. You knew that it must hurt but did she really deserve that title after everything she did?

Now at 21 years old the relationship is just as rocky, not much has changed.

Your mom has basically zero friends, she’s a bitch of course no one would want to be too close, well except for Joel…..Joel Miller that somehow was her friend.

Perhaps only since they have known each other since High School, he might have felt some kind of obligation towards her due to that. She told you once that Joel was the boy every girl had a crush on with his whole guitar playing thing they all swooned over him.

Even now all those years later Joel was a beautiful specimen, tall, broad shoulders, huge hands, strong arms you’d like to be enveloped by, tanned freckled skin, a cute butt, gorgeous brown curls with slightly gray streaks showing his age, big brown eyes, a prominent nose and soft pillow like lips.

You understand why your Mom had a crush on him, any woman would bend over for him if he’d say so. She thought it was not too noticeable but unlike Joel you caught it immediately.

She made you the reason for her life being so shitty but now after years of torment you saw a chance at really giving her a reason to hate you. Maybe something is wrong with you for liking the idea of breaking her heart so much but you honestly couldn’t care less. The one you felt sorry for most was probably Joel; he would be the pawn in your deranged game without knowing.

As it turns out though Joel is not as innocent as expected, the more you tried to get closer the more you realized he might be easier to seduce than originally anticipated.

You started with small things like hugging him a bit longer than normally so he could feel you perky full tits squished against his chest. Touching his arms and squeezing them but not too much as if to draw attention to it. And from his reactions, he did not seem to mind.

You were not worried about your mother, she never was the most alert to begin with.

When Joel came over for a barbecue you used the time alone with him in the garden while your mother was in the kitchen preparing god knows what to impress him.

Joel and you had some interesting conversations.

“Soooo you work in contracting, right?” You asked him sweetly. Joel chuckled “Yeah sweetheart, I do. But ya know tha’ already, so why ask?” You played it off as much as you could “Just making sure you didn't decide to switch career paths in the time I haven’t seen you…” you look up at him through your lashes, cheekily biting your lip. Joel of course fell into the trap, his eyes going down to your plush lips in mere seconds. Got ya you dirty old men.

You stepped closer until you two were only a couple inches apart. His chest almost touched yours. In this position you really had to Crane your neck up to keep eye contact consistent.

“What are ya doing Baby,huh?” Joel tilted his head slightly down towards your face. You just giggled at him “Nothin Joel, just…” with that you put your hands on his wide chest ruining them down over his enticing slightly protruding belly. “I know you stare at my ass alllllll the time. I also know you like it when I walk close by you and graze you with my tits. My little skimpy outfits turn you on as well don’t they,huh Joel?” You smirk at him.

You can see how he clenches his jaw…ohhh yes you got him figured out.

He hisses low and menacing at you “You are a little slut ain’t ya, baby. Groping a man over double your age. Teasin me with those sugar tits and that tight lil ass….”

You can see his pupils dilate till his eyes look close to being completely blacked out. You muse “Yeah I’m a whore but you like that don’t you?” With that you cup his hard cock over his shorts he decided to wear today.

He gasps and immediately grips your wrist to yank those devilish hands away from his throbbing length. Especially when he hears your mother’s voice calling out from inside the house.

He backs off and tries to catch his breath as well as calm his raging hard on down to an unnoticeable minimum. Before he leaves to figure out what she called for he turns to you and lifts an accusing finger towards you.

“We ain’t done baby, ya gonna make it up to me for teasin and leavin me all high and dry, mkay?” He tilts his head almost to intimidate you but to no avail you’re just a massive brat “Hmmm sure Joeliii but i think your underwear is anything but dry.” You giggle and continue “Probably full of pre cum am I right,huh?”

Joel can’t believe what he’s gotten himself into and just shakes his head while turning to the house.

Somehow he made it through the barbecue without your mother noticing any tension between Joel and you. Stupid of her but good for you.

In the weeks after that afternoon you and him kept secretly meeting up. Most of the time at his house or he’d pick you up with his truck to drive you somewhere where he could have you without any distractions, of course when your mom wasn’t home. She might be stupid but even to her it would be weird why you suddenly start taking trips with Joel and she should not be suspicious.

Also during the talks with Joel that happened when taking a break between fucking it was once again made clear that he for whatever reason had not an ounce of knowledge about your mom’s crush.

The plan for how the reveal should go was set in motion. Your mom was driving out to one of those weird grocery stores that sold the health powders she drowned herself in, in hopes of making her more pretty from the inside out but to no avail the rot can’t be reversed.

You knew how long that would take her, it gave you enough time to fuck Joel in her favorite spot on the couch. Yeah petty and perhaps childish but you don’t care make her remember how you defiled her lovely couch with the man she was in love with.

Joel showed up 10 minutes after she drove off. You barely got the door closed behind him before he pounced on you. It’s been a few weeks since you fucked him last, you wanted him to be desperate for it so he’ll might be more focused on pounding you then notice that your mother is returning.

He immediately slotted his lips over yours, his hands grabbing at your hips with urgency.

You spin with him attached to your lips so you can guide him where you want him, on the couch. His breathing is already elevated and by the significantly evident bulge he’s massively turned on. Good, the less rational thinking the better.

While you push him towards the couch his lips slip down your jaw and land on your throat kissing and sucking all over. Between those kisses he huffs “Babyyy - I’ve - missed - ya so - much…” you just hum as an answer and when the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch he’s forced to unlatch from you.

He falls back, his head hitting the soft pillows so he’s only slightly elevated. You wink at him “yeah I bet you have and most of all He has missed me huh? Looks almost painful, did you not touch yourself in meantime?”

He sounds a bit whiny in his response “No Baby haven’t touched myself, saved it all for ya greedy little pussy.” Even when you think to have the upper hand he reminds you how different it actually is. “Come on baby, why don’t ya take of that lil skirt an’ take seat on my lap.” While grabbing at his crotch.

Your mouth is watering but there’s no time today to get your mouth on him like you usually love to. At his dirty words you can feel some wetness gush from your pulsing cunt, coating the inside of your thighs. As requested you slip your flowy skirt down your legs.

Joel let's out a gasp „No panties baby? Ya naughty little slut.“ he chuckles and you retort „Don’t need them if I’m with you, so why make it harder than it needs to be?“ at that Joel can only nod.

„Come here Sweet Moon Love.“ he demands.

You get on your hands and knees between his spread legs that lay on the couch. Slowly crawling towards him teasing him with your tits that are almost spilling out of your skimpy tank top.

When you finally sit down on his jeans-covered cock he lets out a sound of relief. Your knees on either side of his hips and his hands immediately find home on your hips and ass, kneading and caressing the skin there.

„Fuck Moon ya turn me on so much take of that goddamn top and show me those sweet sugar tits.“

So you do, slipping it over your head and throwing it somewhere behind you. He’s not surprised by the lack of a bra. He knows you hate wearing them and if he’s honest he loves that a lot, easier access and all.

Joel’s hands go from your hips up to the tits he loves so much. Carefully touching them, his warm hands and the wonderful feeling making it unable not to moan. Swiping his calloused fingers over your nipples, twisting them with determination causing you to keen.

You start arching your back towards his groping hands. His administrations cause the pull in your lower stomach to Continuously get stronger. You are convinced his jeans are covered in your juices and without realizing you’ve started to rub your bare pussy over his bulge with vigor.

„Joel enough I need you inside me, now!“ You don’t even wait for a response, lifting your hips and loosening his belt and unbuttoning the buttons of his jeans. With his help you drag his pants down but only so much that you are able to pull his throbbing cock out of the confines that are his blue boxers and you can see a huge dark spot where pre cum leaked, making you look at Joel chuckling „You really want it huh? Daddy” with a sweet lilt that makes his dick Twitch in your hands.

He just groans “Baby Moon if ya don’t sit down on my cock right now I’ll do it myself and I won’t give ya time to adjust.” He threatens but it really only turns you on more.

You peer up at the clock and see that you only have about 15 minutes left.

You take your original position and when his warm length slips through your moist folds his pre cum mixing with your own juices to create an addicting squelching sound.

At this point the dark hair nestling at the base of his cock and his happy trail are completely soaked.

“Gosh, Sweetheart she’s gushing all over me, put it in. She wants my cock don’t keep her waitin” you love when he talks in this way about your cunt, makes you wetter if that’s even possible.

You lift up a bit again and take hold of his length with one hand, the other on his chest to stabilize yourself. Dragging his leaking head through your glossy folds before lining him up with your gushing opening. You take one deep inhale cuz you know it’ll be a stretch even with how often you've done this.

Before sinking down on him you look at him there’s guilt somewhere deep in your conscience but you shake your head, you ain’t backing out now.

You slowly start to sink down when Joel decides it’s not quick enough so he grips your hips and in one swift fast motion sheets his huge dick inside your tight cunt.

“Ahhh..-ah J-Joel what the fuck” you hiss slapping his chest hard for being so impatient.

He huffs “Sorry Baby but Daddy has waited long enough for Her, just shush.” He actually has the audacity to shush you.

You get used to the feeling of being so filled to the brim and slide back & forth for a moment.

Then you put your feet down flat on the couch and grip the headrest behind him before starting to fuck him in earnest. Up and down at first slowly but steadily you get quicker and harder. Joel can’t even speak unless you count his obnoxiously loud moaning and growling.

“Yeah how you like that old man, hmm Daddy you're all quiet this pussy shut you up good, huh?” You wonder and out of nowhere one of Joel’s big hands grips your throat making you slow your movements to a minimum. He pulls your face toward his and grunts “Baby Moon ya need to be put in your place, ya bratty ass is treading on some mighty thin ice.”

He gives you one hard peck and then shoves your face in his neck. You don’t complain, you love when he’s so rough with you and his musky masculine smell is your favorite.

Joel pulls his legs up and plants his feet on the couch just like you did and then he starts to relentlessly push up into you at an alarming speed so hard that if it weren’t for the arm pinning you to his chest you’d fall off.

“Jo-Joel….Joel it’s so good ah…don’t stop” you babble in his ear and opposite to his harsh pounding he soothes “Shhh Baby I know, I know it’s so much for ya and Her. But listen to how much she’s enjoying it.”

And he’s right besides the obscene “plap, plap, plap” of skin hitting skin you can hear the wet squelching from the place you're both connected. “I’m close baby, where?” He asks while slipping a hand between your bodies to touch your neglected clit and immediately your whiny moans get even louder “I-in…inside Daddy. Pleaseee cum inside me.”

You beg and he loves that “Hmm yeah, ya wanna be filled up Baby?” He questions “God yes Daddy fill me up, please pleasee” you want nothing more than to feel him spill inside of you.

Seems that when Joel told you he was kinda deaf in his right ear it wasn’t a lie or maybe the plan of making him so desperate to fuck you that he won’t hear the door unlocking worked out.

But you can hear the slight clicking and the closing of the door. Unlike what you expect she does not start screaming, no, she’s eerily quiet. Perhaps it’s due to not having realized who exactly you're screwing as if there’s no tomorrow or simple shock.

Joel under you seems to have reached his end and without any preamble he starts shooting his warm cum deep inside your tight hole. The warm sensation combined with his unrelenting rubbing your clit pushes you over the finish line too. With that you pull up from his neck and drag him up as well, crossing your arms around his neck and kissing him.

You know she is right there at the threshold, you don’t care and to rub it in even more you say “Thank you Daddy, I love you.” And as if he knows his role Joel answers “I love you too little Moon.”

And that might have been the final straw, she speaks up and it flips out into incoherent screaming. Joel is immediately startled; he lightly pushes you off, quickly tugging himself back into his jeans and getting up to explain. You however get up slowly and put your top and skirt back on.

With the lack of panties you can feel his spend leaking out of you and you’re sure there’s very evident stains on Joel’s jeans that your mother must see.

The back and forth they must be having doesn’t even register to you. The blissful buzzing from the orgasm and the satisfaction of having succeeded in hurting her are making you all dozzy.

But then she comes charging at you screaming in your face “You’re smiling, you think this is funny??? I knew you were a bitch who only ruins everything, you are a worthless piece of shit a absolute waste of space” she’s so hysterical but you don’t care, it’s good she’s showing her true colors for Joel to see.

She continues “You are disgraceful and shameful for the entire family. I want you out of the house now. You are dead to me.” She probably thinks those words could hurt but it’s nothing compared to all the horrible things she did in the past. You just smirk at her nodding which infuriates her more than any comeback could.

With that you slip past her, Joel looks completely stunned by what just unfolded before his eyes. You don’t acknowledge him much, quickly skipping up the stairs,entering your room, grabbing a suitcase and filling it with the most important items. Then shuffling out of your room locking it behind you. You heave the suitcase down the stairs, no sign of Joel all you can hear is her crying in the living room, it amuses you, not an ounce of sympathy left for her. You don’t bother saying bye just open the front door and out you are.

The surprise is waiting in front of the house, Joel, he didn’t leave but instead waited for you.

He looks at you “Did it mean anything to you at all, or was it just a big joke?” He doesn’t look hurt, just confused. You close the distance between him and you “I wish it wouldn’t but it’s not possible to not feel anything, look at you Joel you’re a so beautiful so caring of course I fell for you.” He nods and takes your suitcase out of your hand. “Wh..what are you doing ?” You question “I’m taking ya home Moon, think I’d let you run around these streets? Get in the car” he urges.

And you do, when he drives off you don’t look back once.

Npt: @joelmillerisapunk @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelslegalwhre @thundermartini @studioghibelli @sizzlingcloudmentality @vivian-pascal @strang3lov3 @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @joelsgreys @janaispunk @sizzlingcloudmentality @the-mandawhor1an @clawdee @penvisions 🩶

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

[irndad]

Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-

Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹

Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.

my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k

“Is Maeve okay?”

It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation. 

She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him. 

Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists. 

She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?

It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before. 

He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?

“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”

She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples. 

“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”

She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her. 

“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”

It’s only then she frowns. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”

“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance. 

“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her. 

“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”

“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“

“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”

“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”

A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration. 

She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished. 

Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her. 

Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her. 

And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper. 

“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”

Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed. 

Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him. 

“You’re important to me.” 

She has no idea how much. 

Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive. 

“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.

Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted. 

The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care. 

He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long. 

[flickering-chandelier]

Long Story Short 

Pairing: Single Dad Cassian x Bestie Reader

Synopsis: Cassian loved Reader for as long as he could remember, but there never seemed to be any opportunity for more. Then what was meant to be a random one night stand ends with Cassian, alone, with a baby in his arms. Throughout this new journey in his life, Reader is there for him in ways that he never could have expected.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: smut, pregnancy, swearing, a lil angst, mutual pining

Word Count: 6k

Cassian’s heart ached as he watched you settle in beside your lover, his arm slinging around your shoulders, your smile bright and loving as you looked at him, in your own little world as your friends talked and laughed at the table around you. 

He hated it when you brought him along to what he considered to be family functions, meant for the people Cassian loved. And that asshole certainly did not fit into that category. 

Okay, he could concede that this guy wasn’t that bad. But, he certainly wasn’t good enough for you. Nobody ever could be, but certainly not Zaden. 

Cassian knew he wasn’t good enough for you either, but he would try his damn hardest to be everything you needed if you ever gave him the chance. He had loved you so intensely for so long, he couldn’t imagine how you hadn’t already figured it out. He felt like the whole world dimmed in your presence, with you standing out in vibrant color against everything else. 

Suddenly, Azriel nudged him subtly with his elbow, and Cassian came back to real life, to the one where you loved him as a friend and nothing more, where you went to Zaden’s bed every night --

Rhysand was looking at him expectantly. Cassian cleared his throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked how training is going in the mountains,” Rhysand purred, clearly amused to catch Cassian in the middle of a daydream. 

He was glad for the distraction, and gave them all updates about how the Illyrian armies were shaping up, before suffering through the rest of dinner with you across from him.

Cassian bolted out of his seat as soon as the plates were cleared, heading into the city, needing fresh air, needing some kind of distraction that would make his heart stop hurting for just a little bit. 

He ended up at a bar, tossing back glass after glass of amber liquid until a stranger sat right next to him, her arm brushing against his as she settled on top of the stool. 

When he looked at her, her eyes were already locked on his, her mouth curved into a sultry smile. She was beautiful, he had to admit. Not as beautiful as you obviously, but attractive nevertheless. 

She turned fully towards him, making small talk as she brushed her fingers along his arm. 

And he thought this could be a damn good distraction. 

---

Weeks later, you burst through Cassian’s door, tears in your eyes. 

Cassian stood up immediately, and you ran to him, burying your face in his chest as he held you close. “What is it?” he asked. 

“Zaden broke up with me,” you sniffed. 

He held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “What? Why?”

You groaned. “He said it just wasn’t working.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting your chin up so he could look at you. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Can we just hang out today?” You asked. “Is that okay?” 

“Of course it is,” he said, his heart leaping that he was the one you ran to. 

For the rest of the day, the two of you lounged around, and Cassian was doing everything he could to make you feel better.

When the sun dipped below the horizon, you were settled under his arm, your head against his chest. “I can’t believe I wasn’t good enough for him,” you said quietly. 

“No, don’t do that,” he said, and you tilted your head up to look at him curiously. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” 

“Cassian,” you whispered. 

“I mean it,” he murmured. Surely, you had to know. After all this time, how could you not see it?

Your breath hitched, your gaze dipping to Cassian’s lips for a moment. 

Then you were leaning toward him, your lips gently meeting his. He sucked in a breath, and shifted you so you were sitting on top of him. You were holding his face in your hands, kissing him and this is all he’s ever wanted, and he longed to melt into you and stay there forever, but…

He pulled back from you, his heart breaking. “You’re sad and you’re vulnerable. We shouldn’t.”

“Cassian,” you said, your voice breaking. “Have you ever thought about… us?” 

His heart lurched, his mind reeling, trying to decide how much to tell you. “Of course I have,” he said quietly, running his thumb lightly across your cheekbone.

Something like hope flickered in your eyes, and Cassian’s heart swelled. “You have?” You whispered. 

Cassian almost laughed, years of pining over you flashing through his mind. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing you softly. “You’re incredible,” was all he could manage.

You laughed lightly. “So are you…” Your voice trailed off, your eyes darting away from his, a habit he knew meant you were trying to find the courage to say something. After a moment, your eyes locked on his again and you said softly, “Maybe we could be incredible together.”

Your name rushed out of Cassian’s mouth like a gasp before he could stop it. His heart sank into his stomach. He wanted you. Of course he did. But he didn’t want to be your rebound, the one you only noticed right after someone else had broken your heart. He wanted to be your first choice, the only one that mattered. 

He ran his thumb along your cheekbone. “If you really want to give us a shot… I think we should wait. Your emotions are all over the place right now, and I don’t --” he stopped short. 

Your eyes were swimming with pain as you looked at him, your hands on his shoulders. It broke his heart. “You don’t what?” you whispered.

I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t want you to hurt me, because I wouldn’t survive it. Not from you.

He swallowed. “I just think we should wait a few weeks. Give yourself time to get over Zaden.”

You slid off his lap and stood up, hardly looking at him. “Okay,” you said quietly. 

And without another word, you were gone.

Cassian prayed to the Mother that he hadn’t just fucked up his one chance.

---

A few days later, Cassian was still reeling from what you said. You had barely spoken since then, which was putting him even more on edge. 

Multiple times, he had contemplated throwing his dignity out the window and running to you, begging you to forget everything he had said and be with him already. 

But he wouldn’t do it. If he was going to be with you, he had to know it was because you actually wanted him. 

He ended up back at the bar that night, to drink away his problems, to soothe the anxiety he felt every time he thought of you just the slightest bit. 

Cassian had been sitting there for about an hour when a woman sidled up to him. He was about to brush her away, not in the mood, until he realized he knew her. It was his hookup from weeks ago. 

“Oh hey,” he said, wondering if she would even remember him. “Lana, right?”

She nodded, shooting him a tight smile that was nothing at all like the one he remembered. “I’m glad I ran into you. We -- umm. We need to talk.”

The tone in her voice sent him immediately on edge. He straightened, turning to face her fully. “About what?”

Lana winced slightly and that’s when it hit him. He didn’t pick up on it at first in the crowded room, but he could scent it now. “You’re pregnant,” he blurted. 

“Yes,” she said quietly, looking at him sheepishly. “It’s yours.”

“You’re sure?” Cassian choked out, his mind reeling.

“Trust me, I’m sure,” she ground out. 

“Wow.” He said. “Okay. Wow. This is -- Cauldron, this is…”

“Insane?” she offered.

He nodded, in a daze. “Sure. That works.”

Lana stayed silent, watching Cassian digest it. 

“I mean, I’m happy, I think,” Cassian said. “I’ve always wanted a family someday, and children are such a blessing. I just didn’t think it would be…now.”

“With a stranger,” she added. 

“Right.” He turned to Lana then, feeling like a complete idiot. “Gods, how are you feeling about all this?”

She smiled weakly. “About the same, I think. I hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest. Being a mom, I mean. Children are so rare, it wasn't ever something I really considered. But, I’m happy, I think. To have a baby.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “So… what do we do?”

Lana shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Cassian was almost embarrassed about what he was about to say. “We should… date, right? We should be a family?”

A slow smile lit up Lana’s face. “A family. I like that idea.”

“Me too,” he said. 

And that’s when Cassian remembered you. And what you had said. And the chance that he had just lost. 

But then he thought of the baby. His baby, his child. 

Maybe dreams could change. And maybe that was okay.

---

You had never been so embarrassed in your life. You understood where Cassian was coming from, of course. You understood how it looked, running right to him after Zaden had dumped you. 

But, his rejection still stung.

Cassian had been a near constant in your life for the past few decades, to the point where now you couldn’t even imagine how you had made it through anything without him. 

It wasn’t until more recently, when things with Zaden had started to go downhill, that you thought maybe it would be wonderful if your relationship with Cassian… changed. 

He was a good man. Endlessly attractive? Of course. Hilariously funny? You thought so, anyway. But, his heart. When you really sat down and thought about it, you realized you didn’t know anyone better on the planet. 

And to top it all off, he was your best friend. You already had such a strong foundation, you imagined it would be remarkably easy to fall into something else, something deeper. 

So, when he was holding you and calling you incredible, and looking at you in that way that only he ever has, you laid it on the line. You took the chance.

And it had completely backfired. 

He hadn’t said no, exactly. Just not right now. But wasn’t that the same thing? 

A loud knock on your door roused you from your thoughts. 

You knew who it was before you even opened the door, but you weren’t expecting him to look so frazzled. You had never seen Cassian look like he wasn’t in control.

“What’s going on?” You asked. 

He barreled into your apartment, barely stopping to look at you. He ran both his hands through his hair, and your eyes lingered for a second on the way his biceps flexed as he did so. You had to blink to force yourself to focus back on his face. 

“I’m going to be a dad.”

You laughed, but when he faced you fully, his eyes full of panic, you sobered. “Wait, you’re being serious?”

His jaw was clenched. “Completely serious. I hooked up with someone at a bar a few weeks ago. And she’s pregnant.”

“Cassian,” you breathed. It was all you could say.

“I know,” he said, and his expression became pained as he looked at you. “We’re going to try to be together. To be a family, for the baby.”

And that’s when you realized, he wasn’t just here because you were his best friend and he needed to talk to someone. He was here to tell you it wasn’t going to happen between the two of you. Ever.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice even. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, okay? I mean it.”

He looked so incredibly relieved that your heart swelled with love. “I’m so sorry. I know we said--”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, unable to hear him say it. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he said softly, stepping forward and taking your hand in his. “It’s just -- I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I know,” you murmured, trying to keep your tears in. “You should be a family.”

His eyes softened. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking. 

“Don’t be,” you whispered.

It wasn’t until much later, after Cassian left, that you let yourself sob until your eyes burned, until your head was throbbing. 

You had your chance. And now it was gone. 

---

It was a while before things felt normal between you and Cassian again.

And as far as Cassian and Lana… well, it wasn’t exactly the epic romance that Cassian had always hoped to find. They got along, they had fun. But Cassian couldn’t help but wish there was more of a spark.

Maybe when the baby came, he thought. Maybe when they had this beautiful little life to bond over and protect together. 

But that worried him, too. As much as Lana said she was on board, he could tell she wasn’t as happy as he was. She had mentioned more than once that she never saw herself as a mother. And Cassian had no idea what it was to be a good dad -- what the hell were they going to do? What if they messed everything up? 

As the due date drew closer, he could tell Lana was getting even more anxious, which was to be expected. Right? 

When the due date was only days away, Cassian met up with Lana and immediately he could tell that something was wrong. She was wringing her hands nervously, trepidation coursing through every part of her. 

“I can’t do it,” she blurted out, before Cassian could say so much as a greeting. 

“What?”

“I can’t be a mother,” she said, tears suddenly streaming down her face. “I can’t play house with you. I can’t give this baby a good life. I can’t do it, Cassian.”

Cassian was suddenly furious. “What? You’re telling me this now?”

“I thought I could get used to the idea. I thought maybe if you and I fell in love, it would make it easier, but we're not. And we’re not going to be, are we?”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “No, I don’t think so.”

“See?” she said. “We’re fooling ourselves if we really think the three of us could be a real family.”

“That’s bullshit,” he seethed. “We don’t have to be romantically together to be a family. To be there for our kid.”

“I don’t want to be,” she spat. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want this baby. I never did.”

Cassian reeled back a step, like she had slapped him. “You’re going to abandon your child?”

“It doesn’t feel like mine,” she whispered. “I don’t want it.”

He couldn’t stand to hear anymore, and didn’t want to be around to say something he would surely regret. Instead, he stormed past her, out into the night. 

---

“She said what?”

You were furious, pacing back and forth in your apartment.

“I’m going to be raising this kid on my own,” Cassian said, panicked. “What the fuck.”

“No, you won’t be,” you said, taking his hands in yours, trying to steady him, forcing him to face you. “I’m here. Rhysand and Feyre can help. I’m sure Az will help when he’s here --”

“I appreciate that, but it’s not the same,” he said sadly. “I can’t believe this is happening. I am not prepared for this.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Cass.”

He sighed, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. Despite everything, despite how long it had been since there had been any possibility of something more between the two of you, your heart leaped at the contact. “What am I going to do?” He whispered.

“Take it one day at a time,” you said softly. “You’ll be okay.”

You prayed that it was true. 

---

Unsurprisingly, as soon as the baby was born, Lana hit the road without so much as a goodbye. Everyone rallied around Cassian for the first several weeks, you more than anyone. 

Cassian was exhausted, more terrified than he had ever been in his life, but also more in love than he could have ever thought possible. 

She was his whole world, the little bundle in his arms. She was the only thing that mattered. 

“I can take Asteria for a bit,” you said. “You should rest.”

It was the middle of the night. He had for all intents and purposes, moved into the river house, and you had basically moved in too. There was always someone around him, which he was endlessly grateful for, but he felt guilty that his whole family had essentially put their lives on hold for him, especially you. 

“It’s okay,” he grumbled. “I got it.”

“Cassian, when was the last time you slept?”

He paused, trying to remember. 

“If you don’t know, it’s been too long,” you said gently as you came up to stand next to him, resting your hand on his shoulder. 

Cassian leaned into your touch for a moment before he sighed and passed Asteria to you. “I won’t be long,” he said.

He passed out right there on the bed. 

When he woke up, the sun was shining through the window.

Cassian sat bolt upright in bed, and there you were, sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room with his daughter in your arms, freshly clothed.

“Afternoon, sunshine,” you chirped, smiling.

“Afternoon? I was out that long?” 

“You needed it,” you said.

“You should have woken me up,” he grumbled. 

“This is a team effort, remember? I love you, Cassian. I want to help.”

And for about the millionth time in his life, he thanked the Mother that he had you.

---

Asteria bounded out the front door, crashing into your legs, holding you tight with a grin. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here! I’m here all the time, you goof,” you teased, brushing some windswept curly hair out of her face. 

“Will you come color with me? Dad and Uncle Azzie were coloring with me, but they’re not very good,” she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. 

“Well, sweetheart, we all have our different ways of expressing art,” you said, trying to hold back your laugh. “But, yes of course, I will color with you.”

She took your hand and led you inside. You shot an apologetic glance back to your boyfriend Landon, who followed you with a small smile. He wasn’t quite used to Asteria and Nyx yet. 

You followed Asteria into the kids’ playroom at the river house, where the whole family was meeting for dinner tonight. Cassian, Azriel, and Nyx were sitting on the floor, all coloring with crayons and pencils. 

Asteria motioned to Cassian’s and Azriel’s artwork, which just looked to you like random splotches of color. “See?” she whispered to you. 

“See what?” Cassian grinned at the two of you. 

Laughing, you said, “Asteria was just telling me about the art you and Uncle Azriel were creating.”

Azriel’s mouth quirked up into a tiny smile, looking fondly at Asteria. “You were making fun of our masterpieces, weren’t you?” 

“Nooooo,” she said, grinning. 

Slowly, his eyes locked on her, Azriel stood up. Asteria froze beside you. Then immediately he was across the room and had her in his arms, turning her upside down and jogging around the room while she squealed with delight. “You should always stay a terrible liar, kid,” he teased. 

Grinning, you sat down at the table next to Cassian, and Landon settled in next to you, somewhat awkwardly. 

Soon, you were all coloring contentedly, Asteria and Nyx talking all of your ears off. 

“Would you be able to pick Asteria up from daycare tomorrow?” Cassian asked you quietly. “I have to go to the mountains for a bit, and I’m not sure what time I’ll get back.”

“Of course,” you said, and felt Landon shift slightly beside you. 

Cassian glanced at him, a muscle in his jaw ticking. 

You fought the urge to sigh. Cassian and Landon didn’t get along, even though you had been dating for nearly a year. It was exhausting. Landon thought that Cassian relied on you too much to raise “his” kid. Cassian thought Landon wasn’t understanding enough about the situation. It had led to many fights between you and Landon, mostly because you usually sided with Cassian. 

Mercifully, Rhysand walked in then, announcing that it was time for dinner. 

“Wow!” Rhysand said dramatically, kneeling in front of her. “That is beautiful. Much better than what the grownups at the table accomplished.”

“Uncle Rhys! Look at my picture!” Asteria beamed, holding her paper high above her head.

“Not you too,” Cassian groaned. “I was going for an abstract piece!” 

Rhysand chuckled, “Maybe we can have Aunt Feyre give your dad some art lessons, what do you think?”

Asteria’s eyes widened. “That is a great idea.”

You all laughed as you filed into the dining room and settled in for dinner, pleasant chatter filling the room as you dug into the food in front of you.

Everything was going well, even Landon was socializing with everyone. 

Until, Asteria looked at you, casually saying, “Can you pass the potatoes, mom?”

Everyone glanced at you, but kept chatting as you passed the plate to her. 

Landon stiffened beside you, and Cassian’s eyes locked on yours across the table for a moment, his expression unreadable. 

The rest of the dinner went by fairly smoothly, except for Landon not saying a word to anyone for the rest of the night. 

Cassian pulled you into a hug as you were leaving, murmuring in your ear, “Good luck.”

You laughed and Landon raised his eyebrow at you. 

It wasn’t until the two of you made it back to your apartment that Landon finally turned to you, his eyes on fire. “You’re seriously just going to act like it didn’t happen?”

“What?” You asked, already annoyed. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“She called you mom.”

“So?” Honestly, it warmed your heart that Asteria saw you that way. 

“You’re not her mom. This is what I’m talking about, Cassian takes advantage of you,” he said, his voice raising.

“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s my family, Landon. Everything I do, I offer to do because I love them,” you said, your temper rising. “That’s not taking advantage.”

He shook his head, exasperated. “I don’t think I can do this anymore. You and Cassian -- It’s too weird.”

“It’s too weird?”

“Oh, come on,” he said angrily. “Don’t act like you don’t know that he’s in love with you. No wonder he wants you to play house with him so often.”

Your heart lurched. Cassian and you hadn’t talked about the possibility of something more since that night ages ago, before Lana, before Asteria. After Lana and Cassian had called it off, you thought that maybe something would happen, but Cassian had never brought it up again, and you had assumed that he didn’t feel that way anymore. You pushed through it, helping him in any way that you could. But, you never quite stopped having those feelings, couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what could have been every once in a while. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said finally. 

Landon let out a humorless laugh. “And you’re kidding yourself.”

“Leave then,” you spat. “We're done.”

As he left, all you could think about was Cassian and Asteria. And what you really wanted out of life. 

---

Cassian was carefully braiding Asteria’s hair when you stopped by a few days later. 

“Braids before bedtime?” You asked, smiling as you leaned against the door frame, watching Cassian's rough hands gently running his daughter's hair through his fingers.

“I want my hair to be curly tomorrow!” Asteria smiled.

“Good thing your dad got so good at braids, huh?” 

Cassian smiled at you warmly as he tied the end of her braid.

“You ready for bed, honey?” Cassian asked.

Asteria nodded, but looked at you. “Can you put me to bed?”

Your heart swelled, and you looked to Cassian, who nodded, his eyes swimming with affection.

“Of course,” you said, following her to her bedroom in Cassian's apartment.

You tucked Asteria into bed, and she looked up at you, looking contemplative. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?” You asked, surprised by how serious she was being.

“Are you mad that I accidentally called you mom? I didn't mean to, it just came out,” she said.

“No, I'm not mad,” you said, surprised. “Did I seem mad?”

“You didn't, but… Landon did.”

Your heart broke a little. “Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry he made you feel like that. You don't need to worry about him. I won't be seeing him anymore.”

Asteria looked surprised. “It's just… you kind of are my mom. You do all the things that other kids’ moms do.”

You smiled, taking your hand in hers for a moment. “I do?”

She nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And you can call me whatever you want, okay?”

Asteria beamed, leaning back into her pillow. “Okay.”

You said goodnight, and found Cassian lingering in the hallway, his eyes slightly wide.

“What happened with you and Landon?” He asked. 

You sighed, walking with him to the living room, out of Asteria's earshot. “Nothing. It doesn't matter.”

He raised an eyebrow as the two of you settled on opposite chairs, facing each other. “It was because of that night at dinner, wasn't it? Because of what Asteria said?”

You bit your lip, hesitating, unsure how he would react to the truth.

The lack of response was enough for him to figure it out. He scoffed angrily. “You've got to be kidding me. Cauldron, I always hated that guy.”

“I know you two didn't get along--”

“That's an understatement,” Cassian growled. His hands were gripping the chair’s armrests so tightly, you thought he might break it.

“What are you so worked up about?” You asked. “If you hated him so much, shouldn't you be glad that we broke up?”

“I'm worked up because I'll never understand what you could have possibly seen in him,” he seethed, his eyes boring into yours. “Explain it to me. Please.”

You looked at him incredulously. “Explain what?”

“Why you stayed with him! Why you liked him in the first place!”

He was furious and for the life of you, you couldn't understand why. “I don't know,” you said, searching for an answer that would be enough for him. “We hit it off at first, and I guess the problems we had seemed small until they weren't anymore.”

Cassian's eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “That's it? You hit it off, and that's why you stayed with him? Gods, he was never good enough for you,” he said, rising from his chair and looking down at you, his eyes on fire.

You rose too, stepping up to him, still confused by his anger, but it spurred on some of your own. “Who would be then, Cassian? Since you clearly know what's best for me, who would be good enough for me?”

“I would!” He roared.

Your heart stopped. Your face must have shown your shock because his body relaxed, exhausted. He was breathing heavily as he looked back into your eyes and said quietly, “I would be. I would try my hardest to be.”

“Cassian,” you whispered.

“You're my family,” he said gruffly. “You, me, and Asteria. The three of us, we're a family. And… gods, I've loved you for so long,” he said, his eyes swimming with pain, with want. 

“Why didn't you ever say anything?” The words came out like a plea.

He loosed out a breath. “You were always with someone. And then when you finally showed interest in me, Lana showed up… and by the time we had ended it, I had a baby to worry about. I didn't have the energy to think about anything but her. When she was older and I was thinking about that aspect of my life again, you were with Landon! When was I supposed to tell you?”

Your head was spinning. “I -- Cassian,” you choked out.

And then you surged forward, taking his face in your hands and pulling him to you, kissing him the way you had been wanting to for ages.

--- 

Cassian wasn't sure if he was breathing. He didn't mean to lose it with you like that, to lay it all on the line, but picturing you with that jerk who hated him and his daughter made him see red.

The fact that he broke up with you because his daughter loved you so much made him see red.

So, he lost it. And he finally, finally told you the truth.

And now he was holding you in his arms, and your hands were on his face and your lips were on his and he didn't think he was breathing.

He groaned your name, pulling you closer into him, his hands roaming down your sides, wrapping around to grip your ass. 

You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and he couldn't help but smile into the kiss, carrying you through the hallway into his bedroom.

Slowly, he laid you down onto the bed, leaning over you as you sunk into the mattress, kissing down your throat. You sighed his name and he nuzzled his face into your neck.

Your fingers curled around his bicep, and into his hair. “I love you, Cassian,” you said softly. “I've loved you for a long time.”

He pulled back to look at you, his thumb running across your cheek. “The people you dated?” He asked.

Your eyes softened as you gazed up at him. “I didn't think you were interested. I was trying to… move on.”

Cassian laughed humorlessly, letting his forehead rest against yours. “Guess we kept missing our window, huh?”

“Not anymore,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.

“Let's not waste anymore time,” he said against your mouth.

You immediately clawed at his chest, working his shirt off. He laughed, helping you pull it over his head. 

Heat ran through his entire body at the look in your eyes as you stared at the exposed skin of his chest, his arms.

He reached for you, but you sat up and caught his wrists, forcing his arms to his sides. You looked mesmerized as you traced a finger along his collarbone, then ran your hand down his chest, across his abs, down to his waistline, stopping at the top of his pants. 

Cassian sucked in a breath as you toyed with his pants, your eyes trained on his body. 

“You're drooling now, just wait til you get my pants off,” he teased.

Your eyes flicked to his, darkened with lust. 

That look set him off. He growled, taking your face in his hands and kissing you hard. You gasped into his mouth, and he took your hand in his, settling it on his bulge.

You gripped him through his pants, stroking up and down lightly. He groaned, bucking his hips.

“Off,” you mumbled against his lips, tugging at his pants.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he said, and rose from the bed before letting his pants drop to the floor, kicking them behind him.

Your eyes were wide as he stood bare before you.

He laughed lightly, then sauntered over to you, tugging on your hand to stand you up next to him. “I think you need to catch up to me,” he murmured, reaching to pull your shirt over your head.

His breath caught as his eyes raked down your body. He pulled you against him, kissing down your neck, down your chest, running his hands down your sides, pulling your pants off slowly. 

You gasped quietly as he wrapped his hands around the backs of your thighs, picking you up and laying you down on the bed, hovering over you, kissing you deeply as his hands roamed your body. 

“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this,” he groaned against your skin.

“Show me,” you said quietly, your hands scanning down his back. 

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He lined himself up at your entrance and slid into you slowly. 

The two of you moaned in tandem as he filled you completely. His eyes were locked on yours as he started moving inside you, slowly at first, but his thrusts became deeper and harder the longer you clung to him, the more gasps and mewls that you made. 

He twined his fingers with yours, holding your hands above your head as he pounded into you, gazing down at you. 

You bit your lip when your legs started shaking and Cassian grinned. “Don’t wake up the kid,” he smirked. 

“Cassian,” you whined. 

You glared at him and he laughed, gently covering your mouth with his hand as you came undone, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him even deeper and he groaned, finishing inside you. 

He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. Cassian kissed your forehead before nuzzling his face in your neck. 

“I can’t believe this is real,” he said wistfully as he rolled off of you, brushing the stray hairs off your face, tucking them behind your ear. 

“But it is,” you smiled. 

The look in your eyes, the utter love and affection made his heart race. After all this time, he had you in his arms. And he wouldn’t let anything screw up this chance he’d been given.

---

“Mom,” Asteria whined from outside. “Uncle Rhys isn’t sharing!”

Rhysand gasped dramatically. “You’re tattling on me?”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. 

“What isn’t Uncle Rhys sharing with you?” You asked, waddling out to the doorway, your hand resting on your swollen belly. 

“It’s my turn!” Rhysand claimed, holding Asteria’s new ball above his head. 

You laughed at your ridiculous family. “Asteria, honey, it sounds like you’re the one who’s not sharing.”

Asteria crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. “Fine. Uncle Rhys can play with my new toy.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Cassian called to her, wrapping his arms around you from behind, lovingly placing a hand over yours on your stomach. “How’re you two doing?” He murmured in your ear. 

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning into his touch. Cassian had always been protective of you, but since you had gotten pregnant, he had barely left your side. “The same as the last time you asked two minutes ago,” you teased.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Glad to hear it.”

You turned in his arms, holding his face in your hands and kissing him sweetly. “I love you,” you smiled. 

“I love you,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you again. 

“And I love you!” Asteria beamed, bounding up to the two of you. 

Cassian grinned, scooping her up into his arms, bringing her into a group hug. “And my baby brother,” she added, patting your belly gently. 

“One big happy family,” Cassian murmured, gazing at the two of you, his eyes twinkling with all the love in the world. 

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @melmo567 @headacheseason @yourqueenlilith @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @evergreenlark @bookloverandalsocats @sillysillygoose444 @mariamay02 @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria @marina468

[storiesoflilies]

hiraeth

synopsis: the story of two broken souls trying to heal themselves by finding solace in each other and the mysteries of the universe, until shadows from the past threaten everything. the follow up to metanoia. w.c: 18.5k.

pairings: toji fushiguro x f!reader / satoru gojo x f!reader.

warnings: ANGST! sfw, descriptions of grief, mentions of death, the healing journey, a touch of satosugu vibes. there are fluff and wholesome moments, i promise.

a/n: it’s finally here! just in time for me n my most beloved blorbo’s birthday :3 i hope you all enjoy this story, and that the ending is everything you’ve been hoping for. it’s been so fun returning to this au! @gothsuguru this one’s for you bestie <3

art / art / divider / playlist / ao3

there was a certain comfort to be found in absolute silence.

it was warm, precious, and free from any judgement in a way that nothing else in the world could be. at that time, to be consumed in its invisible, molten core of gold felt wonderful. her mind was free from all the music and the dancing numbers and the scratching of the angels’ quills on their scrolls.

and it was silent when toji fushiguro left her.

so maybe, it was in silence that he would come back to her.

that’s what she wanted to believe.

but it was all nothing but a foolish, hopeless dream of a lover.

she could not recall most of that summer, no matter how hard she tried. it was lost in a haze of salty tears and the smoke of dreamless sleep. but she remembered the dull ache in her bones, the heaviness pressing down on her chest, crushing her cracking, splintering spine into the bed.

she had no fight in her to resist any of it – not anymore.

there wasn’t much she could do but lie there, like ice melting against the salt of her dried tears, seeping into every stitch and loose thread in the sheets.

there wasn’t much of the world left anymore, either.

there was only a white ceiling and the yellowing, dirty bed linens. the steady drip! drip! drip! of the kitchen sink, and the dull smell of a very tired, stale room that she couldn’t even recall ever holding any happiness within its walls.

everything that had once made her who she had already dissipated long ago into the atmosphere, leaving nothing behind but the white noise that filled her ears with the silent screams of angels.

let them.

let them scream, let them cry.

she hated them all.

she hated the green tea she used to drink, and the stupid, big ceramic mugs she had poured it into, and all the numbers and letters that led her here, and vanilla ice cream dripping down, down, down onto the pavement, and shaving razors and–

a violent sob caught in her throat, nearly choking her on her own admission.

that she hated toji fushiguro too.

she didn’t even have to try and solve for any sort of equation to arrive to that answer.

somebody, please help me.

and that was all she remembered of that summer, before her phone lit up with a call.

| Φ |

“i can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

| Φ |

the cafe hadn’t changed much at all over the summer.

there was some new artwork done by students at the university hanging on the walls. they were all different sizes and colors, with no particular theme connecting any of them to each other. there was also a new bell hanging above the the entrance door. it was a much louder bell, not at all delicate or mellow like the last one.

she much preferred it that way.

there were too many memories in the old one’s tune.

she was currently staring holes into a piece of art hanging on the wall behind the cash register. it was hard to decipher if there was supposed to be any hidden meaning beneath the seemingly random swirls of red and bold blue brushstrokes of what looked like oil paint to her. no, maybe it was acrylic?

she clicked her tongue, already giving up on trying to guess.

a customer entered the shop, and she was sharply reminded of what her manager had said to her not even an hour ago.

“don’t forget to smile sometimes, yeah?”

they had said it sympathetically – sheepishly, even – because it came from a place of shameful embarrassment of having to even say it in the first place. of course, she knew they meant well, but it was the not so hidden implication of it all that echoed through her head like the memory of the old bell above the door.

she wasn’t who she used to be anymore, and she certainly wasn’t doing very well at all.

and everyone had seemed to notice.

she swallowed down the stone stuck in her throat and quickly went about making the customer’s order, forcing a smile on her face in the hopes it would just make him go away faster. it wasn’t fair to the customer, she knew that, but she couldn’t help how she felt.

any sort of human interaction was just so unbelievably tiresome for her now.

towards the end of the summer, she made the split-second decision to pursue a master’s degree in physics. she didn’t know what else to do, but two things were certain: she couldn’t go back home, and she couldn’t bring herself to find a proper job. her mind was far too numb for either of those things, lost in a fog that weighed down heavy on her entire being. she had no energy to network or put up false pleasantries to build any sort of meaningful connections both in and out of the workplace.

so, when she got the call back from her manager that she could stay on at the cafe, everything seemed to conveniently fall into place. no one could argue with what she was doing. she was furthering her education and saving more money by taking the course part-time.

and that was exactly what she wanted – to be bothered as little as possible.

deep breath in…

as she handed the customer his order in a pale-green styrofoam cup.

and out.

that was how she got through every interaction, day after day.

because if she could survive for long enough, then maybe – just maybe – she could begin to claw her way out of the crumbling black hole of obsidian she was buried under.

she hoped.

the doorbell rang out loudly.

she looked up sharply, and put on the best smile that she could muster, so much that her cheeks almost hurt.

it was the owner of the shop.

what– why are they here?

and then, a star walked in.

she sucked in a breath.

no, it was just a boy. a boy who looked like a star that had just fallen down from the heavens. all blues and pearly, fluffy hair and teeth shining in the brightest, most perfect smile she had ever seen in her whole life. he must have been born from a blue nebula, she thought, because he was so wonderfully rare, unlike anything or anybody else at all.

she could have sworn she heard the sound of a quill tapping against the side of an ink pot.

| Φ |

“you don’t have share anything you don’t want to. just say whatever feels right for you.”

| Φ |

the boy’s name was satoru gojo, and he was the owner’s nephew.

“he’s just transferred from a university in tokyo,” they’d said, with a proud, hushed reverence in their voice when they whispered the last word.

she could only nod along silently, pretending to be impressed, while all she was really thinking was why on earth he would transfer from a probably prestigious university to come here of all places.

it didn’t really matter; satoru was here now.

and he was her new colleague.

the extra interactions she had to handle on a daily basis were absolutely bone wearying. teaching him how to use the coffee machine, where all the ingredients and cleaning supplies were kept, and how to lock up the cafe for the night. it was all just too much; she hadn’t signed up for any of this. the next two years were supposed to be as easy as they possibly could be.

but more than anything, it was satoru and his irritatingly perky attitude that got on her nerves the most.

it wasn’t fair to him at all, and she knew it, but she couldn’t help the nagging, grating annoyance he made her feel. his chirpy voice was like nails on a chalkboard, scraping away at her already thin patience. and then there was him, with his stupidly good looks that made every customer that came in through the door do a double take.

more than that, it was the way satoru had the gall to pretend he didn’t enjoy it – when he obviously did.

no, that wasn’t the worst thing of all.

it was the way that satoru persistently attempted to get to know her. it confused her to no end, haphazardly cutting through the endless haze of brain fog, because she couldn’t understand for the life of her why someone like him would ever want to know someone like her.

“so,” he began one day, the autumn sunset filtering through the window. “you study physics too?”

too?

her manager must have been running their mouth, again.

she cleared her throat, putting down the damp cloth she’d been using to clean the cash register. “yeah, uh– you too, huh?”

satoru smiled that signature lopsided smile of his. “second year.”

when she only nodded silently, picking up her cloth again to silently signal she wasn’t interested in continuing conversation, he pressed on anyways. “yeah, i heard you’re doing your master’s now too. you must be really enjoying it.”

the last part was more of a question than a statement to her.

“sure,” she replied flatly, perhaps even snappily, and satoru’s smile faltered slightly.

a strange pang of guilt struck her that only got worse as the silence between them stretched on uncomfortably. she squirmed in her seat, aggressively rubbing her cloth between every nook and cranny of the register, while satoru busied himself cleaning the coffee machine, uncharacteristically quiet.

finally, she couldn’t stand the awkwardness anymore, and put down her cloth with a sigh as she swiveled in her seat to face him.

“so, are you enjoying it?” she asked quietly, her gaze dropping to the dried skin around her cuticles.

“sorry, what?”

“are you enjoying your course?”

“oh, yeah i am, actually,” he replied, a twinkle in his cerulean eyes as he laughed heartily. she suddenly felt quite warm. “i’m quite the genius.”

“oh, really?”

from then on, he wouldn’t – or, rather he couldn’t – shut up about it. it was like the floodgates had opened, and he went on about anything and everything that sprang to his mind. how he was planning on solving all the unknown theories of the universe, like he was planning on plucking the answers straight from the stars. the more she listened to him, watching the way his lips moved animatedly, the more she believed that if anybody could do it, it was him.

strangely enough, she found that she actually liked listening to satoru gojo talk.

but what struck her the most was how he was like her – and more. she knew that if he wanted to become one of the greats, he would.

if he wasn’t already, that is.

for the first time in what felt like years, she felt her lips curve into a genuine smile.

| Φ |

“it’s okay to cry. you’re really brave for coming here, and i know it’s not easy taking this first step.”

| Φ |

they started studying together at the cafe during the quiet afternoons that stretched into the evenings.

there was the air of familiarity to it all, the same aura of memories she had of doing the same thing not so long ago with a vastly different boy. it brought an unbearably searing heat of anxiety straight to her stomach. she tried her best to shove those feelings deep down into a pit of pebbles, zoning out often and long enough that satoru would frantically wave his palm in front of her eyes.

“you’re doing it again,” he said, his head tilted, a heavy hardback textbook split open in his lap.

she blinked once, shook her head a little, and lightly tapped her cheek twice. “sorry,” she mumbled, then took a few sips from her mug of bitter black coffee, which had long since gone cold.

green tea was something she hasn’t touched since, well, that day.

satoru looked at her for a moment too long, a strange look crossing his face that she couldn’t decipher, before he buried his nose back in the book on his lap.

the sun had set quite some time ago, and the beginning of winter was already making the days so much shorter. only the warm glow of pale orange lamps filled the cafe, bathing anyone inside in a warm, cozy glow. there were no customers at the moment, much to her relief, probably because it was still the beginning of the semester and the students weren’t in cramming mode just yet.

another hot bubble of anxiety churned in her stomach, and she fought to keep from wincing as her heart started to race.

“so, how are you finding that book?” she blurted out, trying to distract herself.

satoru hummed thoughtfully. “it’s good, thanks for letting me borrow it. you’ve got good taste.”

she snorted, though it was somewhat strained, forced. “hah! well, thank you, i suppose.”

he looked up at her again, and she felt herself shrink just a little. she could never get used to his eyes no matter how hard she tried. they were unlike anything she had ever seen before, and the longer she stared into them, the more it felt like they multiplied into six eyes. it felt like he could see right through her and rummage through the mess of broken heartstrings and glass inside her, and know everything that had ever happened to her – and everything that ever would.

was he an angel?

maybe he was the one who had been trying to solve her equation this whole time.

she almost laughed at that.

don’t be ridiculous.

“you’re too good at this, you know?” satoru suddenly stated, closing the book over with one of his fingers wedged between the pages he had been reading.

she frowned. “what do you mean? physics?”

“yeah. you’re like me, you have a gift for all this. even when you don’t really care about it, you’re still good at it.”

she picked the edge of her finger. “i-uh, wait, what do you mean i don’t care about it anymore? i obviously do. i’m doing a masters for fuck’s sake.”

she didn’t know why she felt the need to lie about it or why she suddenly felt so defensive.

he was hitting a nerve, and he knew it.

satoru gave her a look, a smug smirk on his lips. “no, you don’t.”

“i do!”

“no. you don’t.”

“yes actually, i do.”

“you’re lying.”

“no, i’m not! why would i lie?”

“i dunno, you tell me.”

damn you, satoru gojo.

she bit her lip to stop it from wobbling. satoru’s face crumbled like tumbling stones, and his book dropped to the floor with a loud bang.

“hey, hey,” he rushed, standing up and nearly knocking his chair over behind him. “hey, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean- fuck! i’m so sorry.”

the delicate skin of her lip throbbed from how hard she was biting it, and she was sure it would bruise by tomorrow morning. she swallowed thickly, avoiding satoru and those stupid, all-seeing eyes of his.

“it’s fine,” she muttered, hoping the tears gathering in the corner of her eye wouldn’t spill in front of him. “i-uh, let’s just get ready to close, okay?”

satoru frowned, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted to do.

in the end, he said nothing at all.

they quietly packed up their things, locked the door, and the bell sang them a sad goodbye tune as they walked their separate ways into the night.

| Φ |

“so, your friend told you to come here?”

“i-uh, more like made me. sorry.”

| Φ |

being alone wasn’t so unbearable for her anymore.

but it still wasn’t good.

she’d moved out of the two-bedroom apartment she’d shared with her old roommate soon after starting her master's. there was no point in paying for an extra room, and she certainly didn’t feel like living in close quarters with another human being. so, she moved into a studio apartment in the building next door.

it was… decent.

perfectly adequate, really. there was no peeling walls or mold anywhere, and it didn’t drain too much of her energy to keep it all somewhat clean. in the beginning, the smaller space was oddly comforting. she felt secure, like a little mouse in a tin box.

safer.

snugly enclosed within the walls of a home that hadn’t been tainted by old memories.

although, she still didn’t have much energy to cook. there had been too many things she'd wasted money on, too many things that had gone out of date that she had the unpleasant task of cleaning up before moving out. the employees at the 7-eleven across from the cafe had grown embarrassingly familiar with her as she bought cup after cup of instant ramen for her dinner every night for weeks during those first weeks after moving in.

one night, an employee – an older lady with obviously nothing better to do –finally said to her, “you know, there are fresh bento boxes on sale at the end of the day. it’s healthier than… this.”

she’d just sniffed at the woman, pushing her cup forward with a defiant jut of her chin. the lady had sighed, shaking her head as she scanned the noodles. when she arrived home, she took her shoes off and threw her keys onto the kitchen counter. she flicked the kettle on and walked over to her bed to change out of her clothes.

and that was when she saw it.

her reflection in the mirror.

god, she didn’t realize just how awful she looked. her skin was horrible, her eyes tired and sullen, probably from living off a diet of instant noodles with little to no water. she didn’t know why, but the sight shocked her to the core.

she knew she wasn’t doing well.

but, she just didn’t think she looked that tired.

from that night on, she bought the bento boxes on sale every night. the employee never bothered her again after that, just gave her a smug smile that told her everything she needed to know. the changes in her were small, barely noticeable, but it felt like a step in the right direction.

she hated to admit that the lady had been right.

but still, it wasnt a complete fix.

so here she was, quietly chewing on a bite of peppered beef and rice, doing her best to stifle her sobs as music played from the radio in the background.

she hadn’t meant to get so emotional, but it had gotten too overwhelming for her to handle. satoru and all his damn questions – why did this random boy from who knows where in the world manage to get under her skin so much? she barely even knew him at all. the only two things that tied them together was that cafe and physics, and even that was fragile at best.

it was almost like at the start with…

no.

she couldn’t even say his name in her head.

it was all absolutely pathetic – she was pathetic.

“even if you don’t really care about it, you’re still good at it.”

is that what her life was going to be from now on? living a lie? pretending that she cared about whatever it was she was doing, while on the inside, she was still falling down that infinite green hole the boy with a perfect scar on his lip had pushed her into.

she sniffled, tossing the now empty box into the bin.

when would it all end?

she just wanted to stop feeling so hopeless all the time. she wanted to be happy again, to hear the numbers and angels singing to her like they used to, to feel and be how she once was.

but everything was still so quiet.

and probably would be for a long time.

that was why being here, in her tiny box of a house, still felt like no home at all.

| Φ |

“do you want to start from the beginning?”

“not really, but sure.”

| Φ |

the next day, when she arrived at the cafe, satoru was already there waiting for her.

and he was so obviously nervous that it set her teeth on edge.

from the moment she caught sight of him from outside the window, she could tell something was off. he was behind the counter, his hands a blur as he poured coffee and punched the buttons on the cash register to hand customers their change. satoru must have been keeping an eye out for her, because the moment he spotted her through the glass, he froze.

a snowy deer caught in the headlights.

then, he gave her what was probably the most awkward, jerky wave she had ever recieved.

right up until she walked behind the counter to stand beside him, he was a jittery mess, his foot tapping incessantly as he waited for the two girls hovering in front the cash register to finish deciding what they wanted to have.

“hey!” he greeted, far too cheerily. his voice was a little high-pitched, a crack in it like chipped porcelain.

she blinked twice, slowly, as she tied a beige apron around her waist. “hi.”

one of the girls at the counter cleared her throat, clearly unimpressed that nobody was paying attention to them. satoru snapped back into reality, mumbled a half-hearted apology, and she hurriedly got started on making their drinks. meanwhile, satoru fumbled with the coins as one of the girls dropped them into his open palm.

this was all so unlike him.

he was always so smooth and confident, annoyingly so.

it felt almost wrong to see him like this.

but they continued in a fragile, comfortable silence, serving customers and cleaning up tables after they left. when it was golden hour and the shop was somewhat empty, satoru finally let out a great big breath, like he had been holding it in the whole time.

“sheesh!” he exclaimed, stretching his legs, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “that was so busy. how did you used to do this all by yourself?”

she gave him an amused look. “well, it wasn’t this busy a year ago. it’s gotten much more popular.”

satoru grinned, but it was tight, forced. “really? must be because of you and your great service.”

she didn’t know what to say, but she snorted, somewhat amused.

“hey, so uh… about last night,” he started, already stumbling over his words, but she quickly held up a hand to stop him.

“it’s all good, satoru,” she said firmly, trying her hardest to still be gentle. “i didn’t mean to get so emotional, so i’m sorry about that.”

he stared at her for a heartbeat longer, and she felt a strange flutter in her chest. she couldn’t stand the feeling, and got right back to adding more pink mooncakes to the clear display box at the counter. this time, it was her turn to keep an eye on him. satoru was breathing rapidly, his chest puffing and falling quickly, a peach-pink blush dusting the tips of his ears.

he looked positively miserable.

like he was absolutely bursting to say something but was holding back.

she bit her lip. “are you okay?”

satoru froze, his hand pausing from refilling the jar for the lids for the takeaway cups.

“yeah, i just-” he swallowed thickly, not quite looking at her. “i’m really sorry about yesterday.”

“is that all? i promise you, satoru, it’s all good.”

satoru fidgeted, his fingers rapidly tapping against a white lid. for a moment, neither of them moved, the low hum of a handful of customers conversing filling the air. a cup clinked loudly against a saucer, shattering the tension between them, and he inhaled sharply.

“i’m sorry if i push you too much,” satoru said softly, like he wasn’t sure whether he should even say it at all. “i don’t mean to.”

a stab of guilt pierced her heart.

it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t been pushing her out of her comfort zone. for the last few months, he had been nothing but persistently nice to her. anytime they crossed paths on campus, he always smiled and waved, pulling her into the orbit of his blue brightness, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it. at first, she was convinced that he would get bored of her quickly, that he would find more interesting company to keep than hers.

so, she tried to ignore it when she could.

but satoru never let up, not even a bit.

when she wouldn’t wave back, turning her back instead, there would be a tap on her left shoulder, and satoru would pop out from her right, spooking her with a laugh that made it seem like he knew exactly what she was up to.

and he didn’t care or seem to mind.

whenever she was clearly making no move to initiate a conversation, he always did it for her.

and he’d always ask her how she was.

how her day had been, or if she’d slept well the night before whenever they worked a morning shift together. during their quiet study sessions at the cafe, he’d always ask her how her course was going. at first, she thought satoru was just trying to fill the silence, that he was restless – too full of energy that he didn’t know what to do with. but now, she saw that she had been wrong the whole time.

she’d been blinded by his eccentricity and her own self-wallowing to notice it before.

that satoru gojo had a big heart.

and for some reason, he genuinely cared about her. it might not have been hard to notice that she wasn’t okay, but he had – and had tried to fix it. little by little, their study sessions and conversations were slowly pulling her back to the version of herself she thought she would never get back.

“you weren’t… pushing me,” she said slowly.

satoru gave her a pointed look. “yes i was. you know i was, especially last night.”

“okay,” she laughed a little, and a small smile appeared on his face. “maybe just a little.”

they both spared a glance at each other and broke into a nervous fit of laughter. for a moment, it all seemed normal, but then their smiles fades, and the silence crept back in like a parasite, with the light in satoru’s eyes dying like a smothered candle.

“well, i promise not to bother you half as much anymore,” he huffed playfully, though his eyes shifted away from her face.

she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“i… don’t want that.”

satoru looked back up at her sharply.

“you don’t?”

“i just- i’m not… it’s hard for me to feel good about things anymore.”

but being around you has been the only good thing for me. you’re the only person who makes me feel even a little like how i used to.

she couldn’t bring herself to say that, though.

because, whether or not satoru had meant to push her so much didn’t matter anymore. she had now realized, with a particularly harsh slap of reality, how much she had needed it. her changes had been so small and gradual that she hadn’t even noticed them herself. she couldn’t even remember the day when she finally didn’t dread leaving the house anymore, only that it had just happened.

and the boy made from blue starlight had been a huge part of making that happen.

satoru was like an icicle suspended over the edge of a cliff. was it concern, or maybe even shock on his face? she clenched her fists, nails digging into her skin. she didn’t know what she would do if he decided she was just too much for him, too heavy a burden that he hadn’t signed up to carry. if satoru decided to let go and fall, she didn’t know what she would do. she’d be all alone again if he left, and she didn’t think she could survive it this time.

please, i’m sorry. i’ll be better, i promise. just hang in there and wait for me a little longer.

but then, slowly, satoru flashed her that feather-soft smile he had given her the first time she finally waved back at him. it was softer, different to the way he usually smiled, like the notion meant so much more to him than she realized.

and she felt like everything might finally start to be okay.

| Φ |

“do you regret letting the things that happened to you in the past hurt her too?”

“of course i do, that’s why i’m here. i’m fucking broken, and i need help.”

| Φ |

the streets were dusted with a light frosting of snow.

there wasn’t much of it at all, really. it was hardly deep enough to make a snowball from, but it was enough to blanket everything in a sea of powdery whiteness. a cold drop of water dripped from a streetlight straight onto her nose, and she shivered profusely from the shock of it, pulling her itchy woolen scarf tighter around her neck.

there were faint tracks in the snow leading up to the cafe, and she guessed they probably belonged to satoru.

they had both been tasked with decorating the cafe with a little festive cheer on this crisp sunday morning. satoru had groaned about it, complaining that he would do anything but that on his day off. he only begrudgingly agreed to it after being bribed with unlimited access to the seasonal sweet treats.

and only if she helped him too.

so, that was how she had also been dragged into it on her day off.

she pushed open the door, scraping her damp boots against the entrance mat as warmth seeped into her bones. satoru had actually remember to turn the heating on, and her heart swelled with gratitude.

however, her good feelings were quite short lived.

“satoru,” she hissed. “what the fuck?”

the place was in absolute disarray.

tangled lights were strung about randomly, baubles of various shapes and colors rolled haphazardly across the floor, and the branches of the fake christmas tree were decidedly not attached where they were supposed to be. satoru was lazing at the counter, completely engrossed in his textbook, not even sparing her a glance as he deadpanned.

“what? i took everything out of the boxes like you told me to.”

“ugh! not like this, and you know it! seriously, it looks like you just dumped everything out onto the floor and just left it.”

his humorous snort told her that was exactly what he did.

it was painfully obvious that satoru gojo absolutely did not like christmas.

as soon as december hit, satoru became quite restrained, even dejected. he wasn’t up for doing much at all, except sitting around and reading her old textbooks. whenever someone asked if he had any plans for the holidays, he would just say “no,” in a way that completely shut down the conversation. if he overheard customers discussing their festive plans for too long, he would zone out, like he was lost somewhere far away from here.

she strode toward him, making sure to stomp her feet a little. satoru never bothered to look up at her, so he didn’t see when she picked up a plastic candy cane and threw it at his head.

“ow! seriously?”

“help me. now.”

letting out an exaggerated groan, satoru slammed the book shut with a loud slap and slowly – very slowly – slid off his chair.

it took several hours of hard work, but they eventually managed to turn the cafe into a mini wonderland. dainty red bows and lights were tastefully placed around, gold and silver tinsel glinted playfully in the sunlight, and the tree in the center of the tables was adorned with emerald and blue baubles.

“what do you think, satoru?”

but he was hardly paying any attention.

“sure, looks fine.”

in fact, satoru looked like something was crawling painfully beneath his perfect skin. he seemed ready to bolt outside without saying another word to her.

“are you alright?” she asked carefully, setting down a pretty green bauble she had been holding.

he looked up at her blankly. “yeah, i just don’t like all…” he gestured around him. “this.”

“not a festive person?”

“not really.”

“oh, okay.”

“it’s not for everyone sometimes, you know?”

“well, yeah… sure.”

“and it’s so much fuss for just one day.”

“mhm.”

“i hope you don’t think i’m like… i don’t know, a grinch or something.”

“i don’t think you’re a grinch, satoru.”

she tried not to notice how he shivered when she said his name.

“good, because i’m not. i don’t actually want someone else being miserable too.”

“what do you mean too?”

at this, satoru fell silent, like he’d said too much, revealed something she wasn’t supposed to know. they were quiet for a while, mostly because she didn’t know what to say, and satoru seemed quite lost in a place she wasn’t sure she wanted to follow him into. then, he flashed her that signature smile of is, his teeth glinting, and for the first time, she felt like she was seeing it for what it really was all along.

a defense mechanism.

for everyone to stay away, to not get too near him. to be blinded by his beauty and not ask too many questions.

“well, looks like we’re all done here!” he exclaimed quickly, clapping his hands together with a flourish. “wanna go get something sweet?”

satoru didn’t wait for her to answer.

before she knew it, he’d shoved his dark beanie over his snowy hair, and was bounding out of the shop. she watched him briefly through the window, rubbing his hands together, his breath coming out in little wispy puffs. he caught her looking and motioned with his head for her to come on.

she sighed, switching off the heating and locking up behind her.

“you know,” she said, not missing the way he winced. “you can always talk to me, right?”

satoru seemed to think about this for a moment before shaking his head and replying with a far too-cheerful, “of course! now, let’s go.”

the boy was hiding something in his galaxy of cerulean stars.

but then again, so was she.

| Φ |

“what was it like being with her?”

“it was peaceful and she was so beautiful, and god, so smart. like, she could discover something that would change the world, you know?… fuck!”

| Φ |

it was christmas eve.

she was watching the snow falling outside, holding a mug of coffee between her palms. the radio station, with its faint static buzz muffling the words, was the sort that lonely people listened to in movies. the host was chatting away in between songs like they didn’t think anybody was listening, probably assuming that everyone was being festive with their families, and not tuning in to some random station.

i’m listening, though. i’m here.

“it’s a lovely, quiet night, isn’t it? some people hate the quiet, though. like there’s something wrong with it.”

she’d pretended that she absolutely had to work over the holidays to avoid going home, and she didn’t regret it one bit. this was all somewhat… nice, actually. her mind was mostly quiet, focused on the coffee and the radio and the snow falling delicately to the ground below.

she took a sip from her mug, a pleasant, tingling burn on her tongue. there was some truth in that sentiment, she mused.

“but i think that it’s only when things are quiet and still, that you can find out a lot about yourself!”

well, she wasn’t so sure if she had discovered anything new about herself other than pain.

ring! ring! ring!

she nearly spilled her coffee all over her lap.

it was satoru.

for some reason, he hadn’t gone back home either. she hadn’t pressed him on why he didn’t, probably because he wouldn’t have told her the truth anyway, or brush her off with a half-hearted joke instead of a real answer.

slowly, she reached for her phone. “hello?”

it was quiet.

too quiet.

and then, the barest sound of what might have been a sniffle.

“hi,” satoru greeted, his voice filled with broken glass.

and it was like all the light and happiness in the world had gone. her eyes became glossy. he sounded familiar, only because she knew that she had once sounded like that too. she could recognize the sound of a person who had lost everything, and was barely clinging onto this plane of existence.

“what are you doing?” he whispered.

she stifled a sob. “nothing really, you?”

“same.”

there was a gust of wind outside, sending the snow dancing in a large, swooping whirlpool.

“can i, uh-” he swallowed quite audibly. “can i see you?”

she didn’t miss a beat. “sure.”

“okay, right. i’ll see you in a bit.”

her screen went black as satoru ended the call, and she tapped her cheek three times just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. when she realized that she definitely wasn’t, she scrambled up from her warm spot on the sofa, picking up all the random clothes off the floor and shoving them into drawers just for the time being. she was overthinking everything, every little mess, and what satoru would think when he saw her apartment.

should she give the counter a wipe?

was there maybe a smell about?

knock! knock! knock!

there was no time to think about all that.

how had he gotten here so quickly?

she breathed out shakily, wiping her forehead as she hesitantly opened the door.

and there he was with his head bowed low.

there were plenty of snowflakes clinging stubbornly onto his beanie and coat, and she guessed that he must have been outside for a while. when she looked closed at him, she realized with a start that he was wearing his pyjamas – washed-out, grey sweatpants paired with a shirt with a faded superman logo on it. it might have been funny, but when satoru looked up at her, his eyes were rimmed with bright red crescent moons.

she didn’t need to guess that he had been crying.

“hi,” he said softly, his voice cracking like an old mirror.

“hey, come in,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in.

satoru shivered as he stepped over the threshold of her apartment, pausing to puff hot breaths into his hands. she offered him a tea, asking if he wanted it heavy on the sugar, which he shyly accepted. she watched as he took off his boots at the door, expensive black leather dripping with icy sludge, and took a good, long look all around her apartment.

the radio crackled softly, and satoru only seemed to notice it existed then. “huh, you don’t like t.v or something?” he quipped sadly, hardly carrying any bite in his words at all.

“i can’t be bothered getting one,” she admitted with an awkward smile, stirring the teabag in his mug.

satoru hummed and moved to sit on the sofa, sinking into the cushion like he wanted to just melt into a puddle. he rested his neck against the back, long fingers clasping and flexing like he didn’t know what to do with them. she handed him his tea, and then settled on the other end of the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her, and making a conscious effort not to sit too close to him.

for a while, they both didn’t say anything.

the host on the radio was talking again between songs, their voice soft and airy like the snow falling just outside. the next song slowly faded into life, a familiar wistful version of ‘have yourself a merry little christmas’ filling the quiet room. satoru was just staring at the ceiling, the faintest tremor in his hands as he lifted his mug to sip his tea. she didn’t say a word about it, letting herself zone out as she stared at the loose threads in the carpet.

“sorry, i don’t usually do this,” he finally said. “barge in like this, i mean.”

she blinked, and gave him a small smile of reassurance. “it’s okay, i wasn’t doing anything anyways.”

“oh, okay. you didn’t feel like going back home?”

“i could ask you the same thing.”

satoru swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down. then, his shoulders slumped, and his head fell forward in a silent surrender.

she held in a breath.

the angel’s were reaching a key moment in solving their formula, she could feel it in her bones, in her soul. she could hear them and their quills, motions quick and decisive, the noise slowly building like pressure inside a closed vessel.

“his name was suguru.”

the name was a stone falling off the edge of a waterfall, crashing against stone and water and air, and here it finally was – in this tiny, unremarkable apartment that didn’t feel like it was nearly good enough to host such an incredible moment.

it all felt inevitable, really. that she was supposed to be here, in this moment, and that everything in her life had happened just to bring her here. how she fallen in love with a quiet boy with green eyes, and how he had left her. how she nearly faded out of existence, only to be pulled back by a call to work where it all began. how her and satoru met, and how their lives had become so beautifully intertwined.

it was like newton’s second law of motion.

every force that had ever acted on her, every event she had collided into, was all to propel her straight into this moment.

“he was my best friend since middle school, and when i tell you we did everything together, we did fucking everything together.”

satoru paused for a moment, pulling his phone out from his pocket and rapidly tapping and scrolling as he searched for something. when he seemingly found it, he carefully handed his phone to her.

it was a picture of the two of them.

she couldn’t help but smile. satoru was all scruff and awkward teenage smiles, much too tall for his own good. and suguru was… beautiful, really. he was everything his best friend wasn’t – composed and regal, with long, dark hair that looked like it had been dipped in black ink. his eyes were a warm, honeyed chocolate, and she didn’t need to have known him to tell that suguru was kind. the quiet, dependable sort. the kind of person you knew would never leave you behind.

“when we graduated, we even decided to study physics together at uni in tokyo. i mean, i genuinely didn’t have a life without him. but it was like, no matter what happened, as long as suguru was there, it would all be okay.”

tears slipped from his eyes, and he bowed his head low, almost dropping between his knees.

“he died a year ago today.”

oh.

oh, god.

“i thought it was a joke, you know? when i got the call from his parents. i mean, seriously? he’d just gone to visit our old school to help out with some stupid fucking basketball tournament the kids were doing. nothing bad was supposed to happen.”

satoru become incredibly quiet, trapped in a fog of lost memories.

“he’d asked me to go with him,” he admitted, his words dripping in shame. “but i didn’t want to.”

she could hear the unspoken words he wanted to say hovering in the air like a ghost, like the angels whittling away at their little equations.

i should have been there.

“the police said the crossroads were all slippery because of the ice, and that suguru fell over.”

i might have saved him.

“the driver wasn’t even looking properly, but he was going way too fucking fast anyways.”

he could still be alive.

“and yeah, i know it’s so pathetic. i can’t even stay in the same city that he died in. it was just too much for me to handle. that’s why i transferred here, actually, because it just wasn’t the same without him.”

it’s all my fault.

she didn’t know what else to say other than, “i get it.”

because she really did.

her and satoru gojo were one and the same, she knew that now. they might have once been two different variables in the same equation, but now the angels had proven them to be equal to each other, melding them into one and solving for the same outcome.

“you know, you’re the only person who hasn’t tried to lie to me about it,” he mumbled, partly to himself, his fingers tight around his mug. “it never gets easier, no matter how much time passes.”

“i agree. you just get better at carrying it while you try to live on.”

satoru finally spared a glance at her, his pale eyes searching her face, as if he was beginning to realize and understand the person who shared atoms with his soul. that everything had changed for them now, and there was no going back in time.

“there’s a page missing in your book, did you know that?” he said carefully, gently, like it might break her.

“huh- what? no. what are you on about?”

“the one you gave me. i had to look the page up online to find out what it’s about.”

“okay… and?”

“well, why would you rip out a page on relativity?”

oh.

she was flooded with memories she didn’t want to remember. if she looked over satoru’s shoulder, she could almost swear she saw a mirage of a certain dark-haired boy looking at her with a resigned expression, like even the ghost of his past didn’t want to be here. she couldn’t remember even doing it, but she must have torn that page out sometime during the summer. satoru clearly noticed the look on her face, must have seen that familiar, haunted look, and realized he’d unknown touched another nerve.

“you want to tell me about it?” he asked softly.

she looked up at him through lashes heavy with tears, while the ghost’s hazy green eyes pierced into her, silently begging for release, for her to not let him continue to haunt her.

“i will, i promise.”

she blinked, wiping her blurry eyes, and the vision was gone.

“but tell me more about suguru.”

| Φ |

“it sounds like you really did love her.”

“i did, i still do. she was it for me.”

| Φ |

on christmas morning, after satoru had spent the night on her sofa, she told him everything about toji fushiguro.

it was the first time she had said his name aloud after so long, like coaxing death back to where it belonged beyond the veil, and breathing life back into the boy with dark hair and everything that had happened to her. it had been much easier to have pretended that toji was actually dead this whole time.

well, he could have been.

after all, she had no way of knowing, but it was an unhealthy coping mechanism, and she knew it. she couldn’t dare do it anymore either, not when satoru was sitting there right across from her having actually lost his person forever.

so, she didn’t hide a thing.

she told him how it all started. how they fell in love, and all the things that happened in between. the green tea, teaching him about her numbers and stars and the summer of vanilla ice cream. for some reason, she felt sheepish at revealing the trauma that had happened to toji when he was a child, but she had to do it. it was the catalyst for why he had just up and left, and none of it would have made sense to satoru.

much like when she had listened to him the night before, he hadn’t said a word the entire time she spoke. but she knew satoru was listening. in fact, he was completely immersed in her story. like he could feel everything she could. he smiled at the happy parts, even laughed, his expression only turning twisted and sour at the end of it – like her anger and pain was his to bear too.

it made her feel much less alone in all of it.

“i hate him,” she said when she finished, her voice sharper than a knife’s edge, dripping with green, green venom.

but he was looking at her like he didn’t believe that for a second.

she didn’t even know she was shivering until satoru got up and draped a blanket over her shoulders, gently prying the mug that she had been gripping tightly. he looked down at her so kindly it made her chest tighten, an encouraging smile curling his baby-pink lips upwards like it was the only thing holding all her pieces together.

there was something… changed about him.

even with his fluffy hair, a messy pile of snow and stardust, there was something a little more airy and less burdened about him. his shoulders were more pulled back, not slouched like before, which she hadn’t even really noticed he had been doing until now.

“you got any food?” satoru asked suddenly, striding confidently over to her fridge and opening it.

she frowned. “for breakfast?”

“no, i mean for dinner. we have to have some kind of feast don’t we?”

“really? now you want to be festive?”

satoru lazily stretched his back, the skin of his waist peeking out. “festivity is subjective. besides, we just so happen to be celebrating on a day everyone else is.”

“uh huh, and what are we celebrating exactly?”

“well, us.”

he said it like it was totally obvious.

“tell you what, i’ll go out to the store and get us stuff for tonight,” he said firmly, already putting his coat and beanie on. “please tell me you have pots and pans we can use.”

she deadpanned. “yes.”

“hey, i’m only asking because i’m not the one who goes into a 7-eleven every night for dinner.”

she threw a pillow in his direction, but he was already out the door before it could land anywhere near him. sighing, she rubbed her still-tired eyes and glanced around the apartment. whatever satoru was planning for later, it wouldn’t do to have the place messy. she mopped the floors properly and gave the kitchen a good clean, scrubbing all the pots and pans that had been sitting unused in the cabinets since she moved in.

by the time satoru came back with several white plastic bags of groceries, the apartment was spotless and ready for whatever mess was about to unfold in the kitchen.

“you certainly don’t skimp out,” she remarked, eyeing the bags and their contents as he dumped them out onto the counter.

satoru only laughed, rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands. “i’m rich. so, no.”

“pft! well, thanks for all this.”

together, they started prepping for their feast, deciding to make oden with all the fresh vegetables that satoru had bought. soon enough, a wonderfully savory, wholesome scent filled the apartment. she assembled the table while satoru stirred the pot, putting together the sides, the radio merrily playing christmas tunes on and on. when they finally sat down to eat, when she took the first bite of her stew, she almost cried.

she hadn’t realized just how much she had missed this – taking care of her body, cooking something nutritious and homemade. maybe that was why her apartment didn’t feel like home.

how could it be? she had never even made a home-cooked meal in it.

she decided to remedy that from that moment on.

as the evening wore on, they ended up back on the sofa together. a blanket was draped over their legs, a dip between them filled with all the sweets satoru had brought over. the radio switched between more mellow tunes and cheerful ones, and that same host from last night was on again.

but she wasn’t listening in this time.

her and satoru were completely engrossed in one another, talking about what had drawn them to physics in the first place, and about all the stars and planets they wish they could see one day. she felt something warm kindling in her chest. maybe it was the atoms of herself coming back together, little by little. she wasn’t sure, but it felt like a flicker of something familiar.

it wasn’t happiness, not yet.

but as satoru tore a piece of red bean mochi in half, offering her one part with that stellar grin on his face, she thought it might just get there.

| Φ |

“i hope you had a happy new years- ah! yes, of course, it was your birthday as well! how was it?”

“yeah, alright, thanks. was just a quiet night in for me.”

| Φ |

the rest of the school year passed by in a hazy kaleidoscope of colours.

it certainly wasn’t rosy, but it was satoru and her, and all the colors that made him.

mostly, he was dripping in hues of red.

vibrant and lusciously full of life, satoru exuded a sort of confidence that made her want to grit her teeth. she was jealous of him when he was like this – a glorious star of red that burned bright and hot. she wished she could put up her own veil of red to the world, something gushing with so much vitality and mirth that nobody could ever guess she was green with sadness. but it was all a front, a distraction to hide what he was feeling deep down.

because above all, satoru was blue.

she knew it had everything to do with suguru. he would withdraw from the world, hiding away in his bedroom for days. she'd knock on his door, and satoru would answer with heavy bags under his eyes and a glossy sheen in them. he wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep either – just lie there and stare up at he ceiling like he wanted to float up through the atmosphere and into space.

but the worst was when he was purple.

an infinity that blended his melancholy and beauty. satoru was borderline cruel, even a touch mad, when he was like this. he’d flash everyone a stellar smile, drawing them in while his fangs glinted, enticing them with the sweetest honey they didn’t realize was dangerous until they were trapped in its sticky depths.

she recognized him for what he was in those moments.

something pretty to look at but never, ever to touch.

still, she gradually came to understand all of satoru’s colors the way he understood hers. she learned how to dip a paintbrush in them all and create something different. there were soft, cooler tones for his burning red to sizzle out against, streaks of yellow through his blue to remind him of the light within him.

none of it was perfect.

it was jagged and messy at the best of times, but it was real. eventually, satoru learned to sit there and take the time to paint too, his hands shaking and unsteady, with an indomitable will to fight through it all.

and now, at the beginning of the summer, she knew satoru gojo was healing when he said to her, “come with me.”

she looked up questioningly. “what?”

“come with me,” he repeated casually, not lifting his eyes from his sheet of messily scrawled calculations. “come and spend the summer with me in tokyo.”

tokyo.

that seemingly faraway place where everybody wanted to end up. where a persons merit was deemed worth enough if they had made it there. the place where love ran away to die a death unseen, still but acutely felt, even through all the distance.

it felt forbidden to her.

that it was toji’s place to hide away, and she would ruin it all for him if she went there.

satoru glanced up when her silence stretched on for too long. his eyebrow quirked up unimpressed. “if it’s money you’re worried about, then don’t. you can stay with me at my place. my parents won’t mind.”

“it’s not that,” she mumbled, rubbing a pink sugar packet between her fingers.

he pursed his lips, shutting his book, and got up from his seat. motioning for her to take his place, satoru set about preparing something. she furrowed her brows, perplexed, but trying to focus on his calculations to avoid staring at him.

and then, a steaming mug of green tea appeared – a pool of pale green staring up at her like a ghost.

“drink it,” satoru ordered, but his voice was gentle, like a helping hand. “if i can go back, you can do this.”

she stared at him for a moment longer, her heart ticking faster like the sound of an alarm clock about to ring. she thought of the law of inertia, and how she had remained motionless, stuck in the same place for so long. maybe it was time to move on, to overcome her own resistance and start moving again. a year had passed, after all, and if he could just run away and live his life, then so could she.

and with that, she took a sip.

| Φ |

“i just want to say that i’m very proud of you and your progress over the last few months. you’re doing very well for yourself.”

“ah, hah! well, thankyou.”

| Φ |

satoru gojo was rich.

she already knew that he was. it wasn’t like he bragged about it often, but she could just tell. it was in the little things he did – or didn’t do. he always wore good quality shirts, the kind that weren’t so prone to wrinkles, and they always looked like they had been pressed by someone else who did it for a living. he never even thought to check his receipts for his grocery shop after swiping his card at the till, and she would click her tongue in amazement at not having to worry about such a thing.

but she didn’t realize just how filthy rich he was until she stepped foot into his apartment.

her jaw had actually dropped.

because of course he had a penthouse, and of course it was like something straight out an interior design magazine. with its floor-to-ceiling windows that hugged the whole space, and perfectly balanced blend of modern and traditional minimalism. there was the scent of tasteful freshness around her, something that was actually much like satoru – linen and eucalyptus, with a hint of peppery sweetness.

she couldn’t help but feel a little giddy.

“satoru,” she whispered with glittering awe on her tongue. “tell me something.”

he hummed questioningly, throwing his two duffle bags onto the floor and collapsing with a huff onto the sofa. “what?”

“why the fuck would you move to our shitty university when you live here?”

“oh, this? my family home is much bigger, actually. just wait til you see that.”

“you- you mean this… isn’t?”

satoru barked out a laugh. “no, this is just my own place.”

“pft!”

the sun had fallen below the skyscrapers, and she pressed her head against the cooled glass to watch the bustling world below her. the lights were twinkling madly, winking at her like they were trying to entice her out into the streets with all its colorful neon signs and billboards. her fingers twitched with anticipation, and she squealed in excitement.

“let’s go, lets go!” she exclaimed suddenly, feeling a burst of energy to explore in a way she thought she had lost as a child. “c’mon!”

satoru grinned at her, and pushed himself off the sofa.

and so began a new summer, one made of blue and white instead of green, green, green.

there were plenty of late nights spent wandering the streets, savoring all sorts of vendors and restaurants. the occasional bar hop in shinjuku, stumbling and bumbling like buzzing bees drunk on nectar, weaving their way back to a train station to get home and sleep the heat of the day away, only to do it all over again.

tonight was one of those particular nights.

they had their arms around each other, her leaning on satoru much more heavily than he was on her. it was too late – or rather, far too early – to catch a train back to the penthouse. satoru was loathe to call his driver, because of course he just had access to one on call at all times and didn’t bother to use them.

“this is sooo much more fun anyways!” he slurred, a glossy bottom lip protruded in a pout.

she blew a raspberry at him, her feet aching and legs feeling numb, but whether it was from the alcohol or pure exhaustion, she couldn’t tell. it was all fun, really, a memory she knew she would always look back on. something to make her smile and shake her head at the antics she used to get up to.

oh, how growing older was so eerily strange.

one moment, she was playing hide and seek, scraping her hands and knees on the pavement as she learned how to ride a bike.

the next she was crying in a heap on the bathroom floor as the love of her life blocked her number and left.

poof!

like he had never even existed in the first place.

“poof!” she mumbled, feeling her stomach lurch with bubbling anxiousness.

“heyyy! what’re you thinkin about?”

satoru’s voice startled her, and she hadn’t realized she’d stopped moving or that the weight of him was no longer slowing her down. he was peering at her expectantly, two moons of blue shining through the dark and bathing her in his aura.

but he already knew.

satoru always knew.

he sighed, reaching out a hand to her like salvation. she realized that he was, her saving grace, her cerulean light at the end of that infinite tunnel of vacuum and green ink.

she slid her palm in his, their fingers tangling together and fitting perfectly together in each other’s equation.

“can i take you somewhere?” satoru whispered, staring in drunk awe at their hands stuck together.

“mhm.”

the sky was just starting to change, as the sun gently pressed delicate kisses to it, making it blush in strokes of indigo and pale orange. she didn’t know where they were going, and she didn’t care. her brain was far too tired to comprehend anything. all she knew was that she and satoru were on one of the first trains of the day, the rhythmic hum of the train was soothing, and his arm was around her.

and it felt nice.

when they eventually got off the train, satoru never let go of their hands or his arm around her, steadying her as the walked and walked.

until they finally stopped.

they were in the middle of a street, standing against the flow of people brushing past them on their morning commute. the smell of a kfc just behind them tickled her nose, making her empty stomach grumble in protest.

“satoru, what are we doing here?” she asked, voice heavy with sleepiness.

but he didn’t answer.

in fact, satoru was much too quiet, his grip on her hand acutely missing as he stared straight ahead. she followed his gaze to the bold white and black stripes of a pedestrian crossing a few meters away on the busy road beside them.

her mouth suddenly felt dry.

“it’s a strange thing, isn’t it?” satoru mumbled. “we’re in this plane of existence between innocence and death, and we all just continue on.”

the longer she stared at the crossing, the more she could have sworn she saw deep red splatters flashing on the white, staining the deep black with an unnatural dullness.

she wanted to be sick.

“but that’s all we can do, isn’t it? just move on. try to forget everything when you really just can’t, because there’s nothing you can fucking do to change a thing.”

change – a chemical change.

like when paper burns, or iron turns to old rust, or flesh decays deep down in the earth. things that change and never return to what they once were, no matter how hard you tried. that was just it, really. she was something like a cigarette, set alight and burned for all she was worth, only to be stubbed out on the concrete beneath an unforgiving shoe as soon as the hit was over.

she would never be the same.

who could?

“i’ll never forget suguru,” satoru sighed, like he was resigning himself to his fate. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to be free of him.”

be free.

she couldn’t imagine being free of toji.

“satoru,” she said, her voice like a feather floating in the wind. “why did you bring me here?”

“because… to show you that if i can be here, in the one place on earth i never want to be, that starting to let go is possible. that if i can do it, then so can you.”

could she?

could she really be free?

she bit her lip, willed herself not to burst out crying in the middle of a very public street. the music was loud here – quite loud, in fact. and satoro was there in a pristine white shirt, holding a match to her, gently setting her on fire in a beautiful green flame, letting her atoms scatter and roam free wherever they wanted to go.

she nodded slowly.

maybe…

maybe it wasn’t so frightening after all.

| Φ |

“so, how did it go?”

“i just couldn’t fucking do it. i choked up as soon as i heard her voice.”

| Φ |

before she knew it, the summer was already coming to an end.

“maybe i could do my phd, then i’d be able to put ‘doctor’ on all my legal documents. wouldn’t that be cool?”

“seriously? you haven’t had enough of academia yet?”

she and satoru were lounging on his pristine sofa. it was so soft she felt like she was sitting on a cloud, sinking into its fluffy depths, drowning in powdered marshmallows and the crisp scent of fabric freshener. even though the holidays were nearly over, the days were still much too hot to venture outside into – a fierce heat that made her feel like a piece of fish sizzling on a frying pan. instead, they would pig out and binge television shows in the cool comfort of the air conditioning, some the peak of entertainment that would spark passionate discussions.

others not so much.

“ok, this is fuckin stupid,” satoru muttered, prickly annoyance lacing his words like cactus spines. “i’m changing this shit.”

she only hummed, absentmindedly scrolling through her social media feed. it had been far too long for her to try and remember the last time she had been on any kind of social app, but there wasn’t much else to do during the day, and the mood had just struck her to see what sorts of things people she barely knew were up to.

it was pretty much what she expected.

a seemingly endless stream of aesthetic travel and lifestyle photos, silly poses with overly wide smiles. the occasional engagement announcement, compilations of sappy wedding posts, and even the odd pregnancy reveal. how funny it was to watch everyone’s lives moving on through pixels on a screen.

until it decidedly wasn’t.

her thumb froze mid-swipe.

oh.

“oh my god.”

satoru tilted his head towards her, his eyes still fixed on the tv screen. “what?”

it was really him.

toji.

there was no mistake about it. he was standing there with his knuckles wrapped in white bandages, his chest bare and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, a minuscule smile tugging at his lips as he posed beside shiu kong. the backdrop was clearly a gym – the mirrors behind them reflecting a sleek array of expensive looking equipment.

hard work pays off! for a limited time only, fushiguro is offering a special discount for new clients 💪 dm us to get booked in with the man himself!

she couldn’t breath.

she stared so hard at the photo that her vision blurred, her chest tightening like a snake had coiled itself around her, squeezing for all it was worth. like toji could see her through the screen and was laughing at her and how crippled she was by such a small thing. this had to be a joke. some sick, cosmic joke that the angel’s were snickering about as they dipped their quills back into their ink pots. her pulse thrummed in her ears, blocking out the world and the music and everything.

until it was just her and her phone and that damn photo.

she hated how the first thought she had was how much she missed him.

and how unfairly attractive he still looked.

upon clicking on shiu’s account, she scrolled through post after post documenting the journey of the gym’s grand opening. it was clear that bucketloads of blood and sweat that had gone into the place, with plenty of videos showing the two of them actively contributing to build it. she didn’t need to be an expert to tell that it was a great place to go, and her chest constricted again.

so, he actually did it.

he went and did what he said he was going to do.

and i’m still here.

“hey, what’s up? you get another weird silent call?”

she flinched.

satoru’s voice yanked her back into the present, a curious lilt in his question. his baby blues were fixed on her, the tv remote in his hand swinging lazily back and forth in his hand as he fiddled with it.

she bit her lip, shutting her screen off with a sharp click.

“oh, it’s nothing.”

why didn’t she want to admit it?

oh right, she was supposed to be moving on from all this.

“uh-huh,” satoru deadpanned, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “what were you looking at?”

there really was no hiding anything from him, was there?

with an exasperated sigh, she unlocked her phone and flipped it over for him to see. satoru squinted at the screen, plucking her phone from her hands for a closer look. a white brow arched in what seemed like a mixture of disgust and recognition as he zoomed in, the sofa creaking softly beneath him as he leaned back into the cushions with a huff.

“well,” he quipped, a strange edge to his voice as he handed back her phone. “you know he’s alive.”

she didn’t say anything, her hands trembling as she set her phone down on the coffee table, farther away than it needed to be, as if it had stung her.

it had.

satoru sighed, and asked much more gently this time, “do you want to talk about it?”

“what’s there to talk about?” she replied far too quickly, the words tasting too much like bile.

the silence stretched on.

somewhere far below, a car honked aggressively, the sound faint and barely audible this high up from the hustle and bustle of tokyo. the beginnings of trailers and clips from shows began to play in the background, but neither of them seemed to be paying attention to it.

“if you ever saw him again, wha–”

“satoru. i don’t want to play that game.”

“it’s not a game if it’s a genuine question.”

“i–fuck! i don’t even know.”

“c’mon, you must have thought about it before.”

she groaned exasperatedly. “satoru.”

“what?”

“can we not talk about this?”

“no, we’re gonna talk about it. what if we bump into him while you’re here?”

“ugh, i just… wouldn’t say anything i guess.”

“seriously?”

“well, what more do you want?”

“you’d have absolutely nothing to say to the guy? you wouldn’t fucking scream at him, hit him? something?”

“no, and why should i? he’s the one that left me, and he doesn’t deserve even one word. he’s clearly moved on, and so am i.”

“right, because you totally looked over it just there.”

her jaw tightened, and she scowled at him.

“fuck off.”

it was quiet for a heartbeat until, “that’s what i would say for a start,” satoru snorted.

she rolled her eyes, rubbed them wearily, and let out a half-hearted laugh. “shut up.”

“that works too if he decides to speak, and then i’d swoop in and deck the guy.”

“are you sure you wanna do that?”

“excuse me, are you implying i couldn’t take him?”

“you definitely couldn’t.”

“uh, yes i could. quite easily, actually.”

he flexed his bicep, tilting his head and nodding approvingly at the taut muscle. she barked out a laugh, despite the churning feeling twisting her stomach with acid.

what would she actually say?

fuck you for leaving me.

what was the point of it all?

you could have at least said goodbye to me. i know i messed up, but i didn’t deserve what you did to me.

or maybe she would she just turn around and run away, just like he had? it was so easy to imagine that she would be brave enough to stand her ground and give him a piece of her mind. but she didn’t think she would. she would always be doomed to dig her roots deeper into the ground, hold her tongue, and silently defend herself against the battering storm.

“let’s not think about that anymore, yeah?” satoru attempted encouragingly, giving her foot a teasing nudge. “out of sight, out of mind, am i right?”

she smiled tightly. “right.”

right?

| Φ |

“you still mean to go through with your plan?”

“yeah. i don’t even know if she’ll be there, but i have to start somewhere, and… i don’t know. it feels like the right place.”

| Φ |

before she knew it, it was the start of winter.

that familiar crisp cold air was settling on her nose and tongue, jolting her tired bones into feeling just a little more alive. it wasn’t snowing, not yet, but it certainly wasn’t far behind. she tucked her hands into the crooks of her elbows, quietly chided herself for forgetting her gloves at home.

as per usual, she was on her way to the cafe.

she had been working a lot more than usual lately. satoru’s final year was significantly busier than his previous years, so he hadn’t been working as much, leaving her and her other colleague’s to bear the brunt of the busy end-of-year season. not that she minded, her brain had been quite preoccupied lately, and actual work was a better distraction than her studies.

she didn’t really understand what or why she was feeling so strange.

it was almost like something bigger than herself. the anticipation of the drop before leaping off a diving board, or the creeping dread that something was coming for you. that things were about to change too quickly for her to even try and keep up.

she hoped it was just all in her head.

the cafe was just around the corner now, its familiar sign flickering and wonderfully colourful against the grey clouds that hung darkly over the afternoon like an omen. she quickened her pace, boots crunching loudly against the pavement, already imagining the comforting blast of warmth that would envelope her as soon as she stepped inside. the windows were fogged over, but she could still make out the warm glow of the lamps and the outline of customers hunched over their drinks.

the doorbell chimed as she walked in, the strong scent of cinnamon swirling through up her nose like an old friend’s greeting. it was predictable and grounding, and the unease that had been chasing her for weeks was left outside to freeze in the cold.

until she walked outside again.

but that was a problem for after her shift.

“oh, thank god you're here!" her manager exclaimed, dashing past her as she shrugged off her coat, a tray of teacups balanced precariously with one hand. "can you handle the to-go's?”

from that moment on, for the next hour, she was thrown into a frazzled mess of oat milk and sickly sweet caramel syrup. her apron was stained within ten minutes, and she kept apologizing profusely for any sort of delay, even if they had only been waiting for a minute or two, or whenever she brushed against a customer's hand with her sticky syrup fingers to return their change.

it was chaos, to say the least.

she felt like a machine on autopilot, firing through order after order, hardly paying attention to anything but the job at hand.

the bell chimed – again.

she tapped the side of the cinnamon shaker against a styrofoam cup, a blinding ray of unexpected sunlight slanting through the windows. the world was suddenly skewed, an equation of pure molten gold weaving together this plane of existence for just one precious moment.

a cup clattered loudly.

huh, the sun must have come out.

a shadow fell across the counter, long and somewhat familiar.

“oh, sorry for the wait! what can–”

she looked up, the words dying painfully in her throat like shards of shattering glass.

and there he was.

the boy with dark hair standing there with his hands in his pockets, just like he used to.

it all felt so frighteningly familiar, like she'd been here before in another lifetime. she would have believed it too, because the moment stretched infinitely, impossibly, dragging on and on. it was him and his green eyes and that perfect golden scar on his lip that warped the world according to his own laws of gravity and time. she'd once traced that scar with her fingers, had once loved it, and brought forth a teardrop of blood from it.

her breath hitched.

the music was frighteningly loud now, as though the angels had been waiting for their beautiful muse to come back to them after all this time. it curled in the space between them, across the counter, beckoning their fingers to reach out and touch each other again.

toji.

she didn't say his name, couldn't. it looped in her mind like the numbers and greek letters she'd pondered over for years, never quite able to solve – maybe not even wanting to. if she did, he might just disappear altogether again. even if a part of her wanted him to, it was unbelievably sickening how her body and soul craved the sight of him.

her fingers twitched uncomfortably.

you can't be real.

no, you're not. none of this is real.

he was equal parts familiar and foreign. his mop of black hair just a touch longer than she remembered it to be, but still in that same messy style that was his. but what struck her the most were his clothes. they weren’t faded or worn, no random holes poking through anywhere. they were all clean and ironed, with a well- structured black coat over it all that looked like had just bought it from a shop and put it on.

he wasn't the same, no. that much was obvious.

but it's still you.

the cinnamon shaker slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the counter, its echo piercing through the void.

she gasped, “oh, s-sorry!”

and then he finally spoke. “s'alright.”

oh, toji.

his voice was rougher, deeper, yet even quieter than it used to be. it struck her chest like a hammer, reverberating throughout her hollowed bones and down the long hallway where the angels scribbled on their scrolls. he was staring at her like he was trying to solve her too, trying to decipher how she was really feeling on the inside.

she hated it.

hated how he was in a position that meant he knew her, even a little bit. hated that he knew everything, and would know that slight change in her face when she was about to smile or about to cry. hated how it took just about everything she had not to run away.

but most of all, she hated how she wanted nothing more than to just go to him.

to reach across the counter and pull him into her. to say how sorry she was and how much she had missed him, even beg him not to leave again.

i don’t want to love you anymore.

i wish, i wish, i wish i never did.

“i didn't think you would still be here,” he admitted, a tone of surprise in his words.

she felt a flash of annoyance.

how dare he acknowledge that she was still in the same place? it was embarrassing – shameful – that he had been able to go off and do what he said he was going to do, and she hadn't. that she was left behind in the dust of everyone else who had moved on.

“i'm doing my masters,” she replied flatly.

toji’s face fell a little at her tone, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “that's great! really. you were always smart. not that you aren't now, obviously.”

she only stared blankly at him. “would you like to order something?”

toji hesitated, his chapped lips parting, but then the doorbell chimed behind him, loud and jarring.

“hey! it's absolutely freezing outside, isn’t it?” satoru's unmistakable drawl lashed through the air like a whip, larger than life.

her head whipped towards him, an immediate wave of relief washing over her before it was replaced by cold, hard dread. toji turned slightly, glancing at the boy with starlight hair who had strolled in like he owned the place. satoru's easy grin landed on her, dazzling her in his red.

until he noticed who was standing in front of her.

his eyes turned to ice, narrowing into daggers like he was ready to slice toji up into pieces. then, deliberately slow, satoru strutted over, plonking himself behind the counter right beside her, casually leaning forward as if he had all the time in the world.

“you need something?” satoru asked dangerously, his words dipped in a deep purple.

toji looked between the two of them, and something in those green eyes of his made her feel uneasy, even a dash of unwarranted guilt. his fists were tight, fingernails digging his palm so hard it made her own hands hurt. without saying another word, he swiveled on his heels and walked back out the door, disappearing into the afternoon that had gone grey again.

“nice meeting you!” satoru called out after him, a heavy hand resting on her shoulder.

but toji was already long gone.

| Φ l

satoru didn’t want to leave her alone.

“he doesn’t know where i live,” she’d hissed as they walked back to her studio together, a brooding hulk of a guard dog beside her. “satoru! you’re acting like a lunatic.”

“shut up, will you?” he snapped, his eyes darting suspiciously at every person who passing by. “he knows where you work.”

“i think that was just a random chance,” she mumbled quietly, her breath coming out in small, hot puffs, not sure why she was even defending toji at all.

but satoru had just ignored her, ushering her through the door of her building like the boy in question was right behind them, shutting it with a particularly loud slam! she almost felt like she was in trouble for something, even though rationally she knew that absolutely none of this was her fault.

she had just never seen satoru so unbelievably angry.

after firmly making sure she had eaten something wholesome, and after much convincing on her part that she definitely wasn’t planning to leave her apartment for the night, satoru finally left her alone. not before giving her a long, hard look that made it clear that if she needed him, she was to call him immediately.

she might have been touched by it if she wasn’t so utterly consumed by thoughts of toji.

why had he come? why now?

why, why, why?

endless questions swirled around her brain, circling like a goldfish swimming around a perfectly clear crystal bowl. she lay there on her bed, the only light coming from a flickering streetlight outside. sleep was completely out of the question for tonight, so she counted the seconds between each rhythmic flicker of light, trying pathetically to distract herself from it all.

just when she might have been able to slip into the darkness of a dreamless sleep, her phone lit up beside her.

buzz! buzz!

she frowned, not recognizing the unfamiliar number.

“hello?”

“hey, uh- it’s me.”

her heart stopped, then stuttered back to life. she sat upright, gripping her phone tighter.

“sorry, you weren’t asleep were you?” toji continued, his tone slightly sheepish.

she blinked. “no.”

“oh, great!” he cleared his throat. “i didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“it’s late.”

there was a pause. “right, yeah. well, i just… i wanted to call you for a while now, but i don’t know. it just didn’t feel right to talk to you over the phone.”

she waited with bated breath.

“about what?”

she knew exactly what.

“i just wanted to say that i’m sorry.”

of course she knew – in the same way that the universe might have known the big bang was coming. that existence was on the brink of becoming itself after an explosion, stretching and rippling outward like a drop of water in an infinite ocean.

there was another pause, followed by a deep breath. “i don’t expect calling you to fix everything that i did, but i wanted to start by telling you that i’m so sorry for everything.”

did the universe know it was going to hurt this much?

“i'm so sorry,” he continued in a fragile whisper. “for the way i ran away and left you like that. and i'm sorry for being such a coward.”

maybe it had been okay with it. that’s just how something grows, isn’t it? a sudden explosion of growing pains to become something better, newer.

“you didn't deserve it.”

but the universe was born silently when it exploded into existence – a voiceless scream as creation erupted into being. she wondered how long it had been quiet for after it was all over.

“you still there?”

“yeah.”

she wondered if she would be silent too.

“well i-uh, i know that you've probably moved on from all this, but i just wanted to try and make things right.”

“mhm.”

he coughed, and cleared his throat. “you know, i went to therapy.”

“you did?”

“yeah. it was… kinda forced on me at the beginning, but i knew that i needed it to start fixing myself. i learned a lot about myself, and about why i did what i did. and i know that i definitely didn’t deserve you back then, but that i also didn't deserve to come back you if i was still the same.”

“and do you think you're... fixed now?”

“yeah, i’m just trying to be better.”

the light outside flickered again. one, two...

“you know... there's nothing you can say that'll make me forget what you did.”

three.

a sharp inhale, followed by a rough, “i know.”

“and you can’t just expect to walk back into my life like nothing happened.”

“i know.”

she turned over, burying her face in her pillow, the phone pressed against her ear.

“but that's not why i called you,” toji murmured. “i’m not trying to get you to forget what happened, because i can't either. but i’ve changed, and i just want to try and make things a little better, and to maybe be... friends, at least.”

“you want to be friends now?”

he paused for a long time.

“if you'd be okay with that, then yeah.”

“look, toji, i- i don't know.”

“i’d understand if you don't want to, believe me. and if you never want to hear or see me again then i’d get that too. and its selfish of me to even ask you this in the first place, but i have to try and keep you in my life because i still need you.”

holy good god.

“and i think about you all the time, every single day for the past two years, because you're it for me. you’re my person, and even if you don't want the same as me, then that's okay. i’d rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.”

what was she even supposed to say to that?

“and even as a friend, i promise not to leave like that again.”

“but what if i don’t want you as a friend? what if i don’t want you as anything to me anymore?”

“then i’ll leave.”

even the angels had stopped writing, their quills frozen mid-number as they peered over their desks, watching the two little humans they had tangled together in a messy scrawl of numbers and letters.

“say something,” toji said, a sad desperation in his voice. “please.”

“you hurt me, toji. do you know how much i hated you for that?”

“believe me, its not more than how much i hated myself for doing it.”

don't say it, don't say it, don't say it.

don’t you dare.

“okay,” she whispered.

“okay?”

her mind buzzed with thoughts and the consequences of allowing toji fushiguro back into her life. she thought of satoru, and how angry he would be, and how her brain screamed with all the words she wanted to hurl at toji about the true extent of how much he had hurt her.

but that didn’t matter, not yet.

not when he was here and promising to stay – to stay and be there for her, to listen to everything she had to say.

there was time for all of that.

and perhaps it was time to be born anew in a different universe.

“yeah, okay, but i can’t just be around you like that again. it doesn’t work that way, and i need time to get used to… you.”

toji’s voice sounded more hopeful, more positive, like the sun had broken through the clouds and was shining down on him again. “y-yeah, i get that! i’ll wait! however long it takes, i’ll wait.”

“okay,” she said quietly, almost as if reassuring herself.

“well it’s-uh late, i guess,” he said, a shaky cheerfulness in his voice that made the ghost of a smile play on her lips. “goodnight, and maybe call you tomorrow?”

“goodnight, toji.”

the line went quiet.

fuck.

but her mind certainly didn’t.

| Φ |

“it really brings me so much joy to have been able to help you, toji.”

“haha, thanks, but god, i just had so much more to say to her, ya know? but i think there’s still a chance, and i have you to thank for it.”

| Φ |

having toji fushiguro back in her life didn’t seem real.

it was slow and awkward, like dipping her toe into the cold sea again after having forgotten what it felt like. of course, he couldn’t stay in town for too long. tokyo and his work were calling him back, and she understood. so, they mainly kept in touch through texting, which was basically an all day affair. every spare moment they had, whether it was in between her making a cup of coffee, during study breaks, or toji in between training sessions. it would be a lie to say she wasn’t clinging tightly to every text, or that her heart didn’t leap every time her phone buzzed.

but it was also easy.

something she could nestle into, like a gentle wind beneath a bird’s wings.

sometime during the quiet nights of spring, they began calling each other to fill the silence.

“hey,” toji would greet, a bashful shyness in his voice, and she could tell that he was smiling.

she’d bite her lip to keep her own smile from forming. “hi.”

he’d ask her about her day, and all about what she was doing – every little mundane detail, as if toji was trying to collect all the parts of her that he’d missed. she told him about about her course, what she had been up to, and even about the summer she spent with satoru. he’d even ask her to remind him of some of the theories and laws she had told him about all those years ago, and she couldn’t tell if it was because he wanted to genuinely learn them again or if he just wanted to keep her on the phone longer.

she asked him about his life too. she learned that it was only a month after he arrived in tokyo that toji bumped into shiu kong in a random pachinko parlor. they had gotten talking, and before toji could count to three, shiu was already drawing up business plans for their doja on the back of a napkin. it was perfect, really. toji had the physical experience, and shiu had the connections – and, most importantly, the money.

“you know, i don’t think i’ll ever get used to just having money like this,” toji admitted, and she wanted to cry.

one day, after clearly skirting around the topic for some time, toji finally asked her, “so, uh, is satoru your…” he smacked his lips together. “boyfriend?”

“pft! no.”

his relief had been quite palpable.

“what about you?” she returned, chewing the inside of her cheek and tasting acrid metal. “have you been seeing anybody in tokyo?”

“no,” toji replied gently, like it was so silly she even asked in the first place. “not one.”

she knew her pathetic relief was most definitely palpable.

although, it wasn’t always so easy.

more often than not, just when they thought they had slipped into a sense of familiarity, the harsh reminders of the past came knocking. both of them would test the waters, perhaps asking a question that was too deep, too painful – usually about how they had coped in those early days of being apart.

it was just too hard for either of them to hear the answers. toji didn’t exactly enjoy hearing just how much she had hated him, or how utterly crippled she was for the first couple of months after he left. she could tell that it tore him up on the inside, and a part of her liked it. he deserved to feel every ounce of guilt he was capable of, and then some.

“you want to know what it felt like for me, do you?” she hissed, so much venom gushing from her bite that it even surprised her. “well, i’ll fucking tell you then.”

and she did, in great detail.

toji would snap back too, it was only human of him to.

“what, you think i had an easy time trying to fix myself?” he’d say, his voice quaking and breaking apart her resolve. “i didn’t. i was fucking miserable all the fucking time, and everytime i looked in the mirror i had my scar reminding me of my biggest fuck-up to date.”

those conversations usually ended up with her abruptly hanging up the phone and crying herself to sleep.

but she would always wake up to a message from toji, and they were always so incredibly gentle. he’d tell her how he just wanted them both to shed the weight of all their pain off their shoulders, and for her not to worry about how he felt heari all those things. that he could take it all – the pain, everything.

and that he still wasnt going anywhere.

it really struck her in those moments just how much he had changed.

still, there was something holding her back from falling back into him again.

and she wasn’t sure if it was because of satoru, who was less than impressed by it all.

“he called you, didn’t he?” he asked the day after toji called the first time, twirling a sugar packet between his fingers like he didn’t care what her answer was.

she gave him a look, saying nothing, and licked her dry lips.

he let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “so…what? are you two back together now?”

“no,” she admitted quietly, feeling like a child about to be scolded. “but i’ve given him a chance.”

satoru’s eyes flashed a bright cerulean, like a star burning the brightest blue it ever could, before his gaze hardened.

finally, he grunted, “i get it.”

she almost spilled the latte she had been preparing.

he quirked a brow at her incredulous look and muttered, “i can’t sit here and pretend i wouldn’t do the same for suguru if i was able to.”

but before her smile could look too relieved, satoru added rather sharply, “but that doesn’t mean i like this.”

and that was that.

he never once asked how they were getting on or what they talked about. whenever her phone buzzed with a notification, he stared at it like he wanted to burn holes into it, but he said nothing – only a tight grimace appeared on his face, and that told her exactly how he felt about toji fushiguro.

and now, it was the end of her very last semester in the world of academics.

it was really dawning on her this time that her goodbyes would be final. that these last couple of months would be her last at the cafe and at the studio apartment she had eventually learned to love. on satoru’s insistence, she had decided to move on and get a proper job after graduating. he had told her he knew some contacts in tokyo who could hook them both up with decent jobs within the industry, and who was she to say no to that?

besides, it was nice to know that she wouldn’t be alone in this big, bad world.

she slipped through the door of the cafe, wiping the damp from her shoes on the entrance mat. there weren’t many students in studying at this time, the busier hours actually came later, at the start of the all-nighters. the students must have all heard that it was a quiet cafe at night, and now everyone came at the same time. the smell of sweet, buttery pastries made her tummy grumble, and she put a hand over her abdomen, as if that would quiet it down.

it did, because sitting right at the booth by the counter, was toji.

with satoru.

both their expressions were unreadable, but toji was hunched forward, nodding solemnly to whatever it was satoru was saying. her best friend had a towel draped over his taut shoulder, his starlight hair a mess, like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times.

she hesitated at the door.

what is going on?

satoru noticed her first, and his sentence trailed off like fading music. his gaze held hers firmly, fiercely. she felt that if she looked away, the world would crumble beneath her feet, and she would surely die. then, toji turned too, and the wind was knocked right out of her.

the cafe suddenly felt too small, not nearly big enough for all three of them and the weight of their pasts. satoru moved first, beckoning her over with his hand. her feet moved of their own accord, like she was a piece of metal drawn towards a magnet, helpless in trying to resist his pull.

“well,” satoru said lightly, placing the towel onto the counter. “i was just leaving.”

her throat tightened. “satoru.”

she didn’t know why the thought of being alone with toji felt more terrifying than being with both of them together, but it did. but the look that he gave her stopped her cold. it wasn’t harsh, not in the slightest, but it was mesmerizing – a thousand and one blue stars were exploding in his eyes. it made her heart hurt, her head swim with all the colors that made satoru gojo who he was. and then the stars softened into something warm and comforting, and she knew he was trying to tell her something without words.

he glanced at toji.

then back to her, giving her a barely perceptible nod.

it’s okay.

you can trust him.

she huffed a breath, the relief hitting her all at once. satoru turned back to toji, giving him a brief nod, and then he was out of the door.

a folded sheet of paper lay in front of toji, his large hand placed over it like he was afraid it might flutter away. she stood behind the counter now, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she tied her apron.

“i wanted to give this back to you,” toji said before she could say anything, a dusting of pretty pink on his cheeks as he slid the paper towards her. “i’m sorry for ripping your book.”

she unfolded the familiar paper, noting how the creases were soft and a little worn, and skimmed over the words.

oh my.

it was the page satoru had told her was missing from her book, the one about the theory of relativity, and right there in the corner was the equation for quantum entanglement written in blue ink.

“you once told me that when two particles belong together, they’ll always be connected no matter the distance between them. i’ve never forgotten it, not once this whole time.”

and then his hand was over hers, and the world and her heart was on fire.

“you still believe it?” she asked, her voice trembling, as she stared down at his thumb brushing her knuckles with a tenderness she had forgotten.

“yeah, because everything that i do, and everything that i am, is you.”

she didn’t know what toji fushiguro and satoru gojo had said to each other that day.

and perhaps she never would.

but as she poured toji a fresh batch of green tea into a big mug the way she used to, it didn’t really matter at all, did it?

| Φ |

“take care now, and i wish you all the best.”

“goodbye! and really, thankyou. for everything.”

| Φ |

today was a profoundly bittersweet occasion.

“satoru! i can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“well, you might want to start soon.”

it was her graduation day.

again.

there was some parts of it that felt unnervingly familiar, setting her teeth a slightly on edge at the reminders of the past. her kimono was laid neatly on her bed, exactly as it had been the first time. she was sat cross-legged in front of a mirror doing her makeup exactly the same way as she had on that fateful day.

but this time, it already felt better than it did the last time.

she wasn’t paralyzed with worry over the disappearance of a certain dark haired boy. she wasn’t sitting here working herself into a nervous fit over her future. no, she was here, in a new home with her best friend in the whole world. the one who had held her chin and tilted her head for her to look back up towards the stars. the one who had helped steady her shaking bones, his arms around her as he had called back the scattered atoms of her broken soul.

she looked at him fondly, far too fondly, and her angel of the stars looked back at her, alarmingly perplexed, his cheeks flushed in a bright strawberry red. “what?” he mumbled shyly.

he only got a giggle from her, her knees bouncing off the floor with a rush of excitement. she grinned as she she delicately swiped her mascara over her lashes, and satoru shook his head in confusion. he sat down carefully at the edge of her bed, smoothing out any little folds that had formed in her kimono. it was satoru’s graduation gift to her, actually – the kimono. they had picked out the fabric together, spending hours hiking through ridiculously expensive textiles that she insisted was too much, before settling on a luxuriously silky material with green and blue sakura flowers fluttering down the length of the fabric.

“you should have a piece of me on that stage,” he’d said, pointing to the blue petals, then to the green. “and i guess he deserves to be there too.”

it was then easy for her to decide that satoru gojo must be an angel.

she glanced at him again. “are you going to go and get ready, or what?”

“oh, psht! that wont take me long, don’t worry.”

he was currently in a plain black t-shirt and jeans, hair extra fluffy and untamable, and looked absolutely nowhere near ready to attend a graduation ceremony in less than an hour and a half.

“you better not, or i’ll actually kill you.”

satoru only rolled his eyes at that. “yeah yeah, sure. so you can give toji my ticket? no chance.”

while there had been a fragile peace between the two, and satoru didn’t grimace everytime she mentioned toji, he certainly still wasn’t as fond of the dark haired boy as she would have liked by this point.

“speaking of,” satoru continued with an air of nonchalance. “what is the guy doing today without a ticket?”

it had already been decided some time ago that satoru would be the one to have the spare ticket to her graduation. by the time toji had started getting closer to her, it had been too late to change it, and maybe it was also the faint lingering trauma from what had happened at the last one. she was hesitant to give it to him, and it would be a lie to say that toji wasnt disappointed.

though he had tried his best to hide it, she could see right through him.

“oh, he said he would try and sneak in the back to watch. if not, i’ll just meet him at the cafe later tonight.”

her best friend only hummed, watching with fascinated interested, his head tilted as she put her makeup on.

“sneaking in, huh? doesn’t really seem like his style.”

she shrugged her shoulders, blending an extra touch of concealer with her fingers. “he really wants to try and be there for me this time, you know?”

“as he should. i was sorta worried about you both for a while.”

“huh, you? worried about toji?”

“yeah, you’re right. it’s more of a very bland interest.”

she gave him a hard look.

“okay, okay! honestly though, i felt like the only thing stopping him from really getting to you was me. and that after we had that conversation, he would just dive straight back into what you guys had without a second thought.”

she glanced at satoru through the mirror. “well, neither of you want to tell me what you said to each other.”

“mind your business!”

“pft!”

“anyways, i guess it was more that i was worried about something happening and it tearing you apart again. i can’t watch that happen, not after you’ve just put yourself back together.”

satoru sighed, his knee bouncing rapidly. “and, well… i suppose i can only really ask you about how it's going.”

her hands suddenly felt stiff, and she set down her brush. “it’s not… easy, sometimes. we’ve talked about everything that happened, and its painful, but it also just feels good. there’s a part of me that feels more stitched together than i did before. we’re not perfect yet, but we’re both trying, and it’s nice.”

she added more softly. “we laugh more than we used to. a lot now, actually.”

the blue nebula in his eyes sparkled. “yeah?”

“haha, yeah.”

satoru hummed thoughtfully, “you really think its different this time?”

“yeah, i do, satoru.”

“you know, i’ve never told you this, but you say my name the way suguru used to.”

a shaky, lopsided smile played on her lips, her eyes glossing over. “he must have really loved you then.”

satoru’s pearly lashes fluttered, as if he was startled by the weight of her words, and another bashful blush spread across his cheeks, his lips forming a glossy pout.

“like i do,” she added, more teasingly this time. “in case that wasnt obvious enough already.”

“right, okay,” satoru huffed, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned his head away from her. “don’t get all mushy on me now, miss graduate.”

he got up and patted down his jeans, his fingers slipping into his left pocket to feel for his invitation. “i guess i’ll see you after it’s over.”

she squealed excitedly. “okay! see you later!”

| Φ |

the air outside the auditorium was positively electric.

huh, i must have missed out on this feeling the last time.

there were plenty of nervous, jittery smiles and hand shakes as the waiting room buzzed with static energy. she mingled briefly with some of her classmates, musing with them at how far they had come and all the challenges they had overcome. some of them even talked about what their plans were for the future, a few jaws dropping when she quietly admitted where she would be working in tokyo. soon enough, they were all being ushered in to take their seats on the stage.

the reality of the moment was really sinking in as she took her seat. as she smoothed out her kimono, her eyes scanned the seemingly endless rows, which were filling fast with family members and close friends.

she frowned.

satoru’s unmistakable starlight hair was nowhere to be seen.

he must be running late. hopefully he gets here before it starts.

the lights dimmed, and the doors at the back of the auditorium shut with a decisive thud.

i’m really going to kill him.

her heart panged with disappointment.

and then she saw him.

toji fushiguro.

the boy with dark hair who used to never have much to say, and was perfectly happy with not being liked by anybody – except her. the boy with forests in his eyes and a scar on his lip that he didn’t let anybody touch – except her.

the one who hadn’t been there the last time and almost seemed out of place now.

but he was here – for her.

because she was the unexpected variable, the singular exception that had been thrown into his routine equation just to shake the foundations of his existence. and maybe there would be other inexplicable formulas – there probably would – but that didn’t matter. she knew the angels had entangled them together, and there was nothing more to do or say about it. because no matter what had happened, or what would happen, they belonged to each other.

there was a constant pull for each other souls through the broken skin of a golden scar.

satoru must have given him his ticket.

toji was grinning at her, so proud and perfect, standing up and clapping for her like she was the only person in the room as she accepted her certificate.

the music of the angels played on in her mind, bright and clear, for one last time.

and her equation was finally solved.

| Φ |

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[teapartyprincess4two]

Call Out My Name- J. Webber

pairing: OFcreator!reader x CoStar!Jake

classification: angst, smut

inspiration: request1, request2, Call Out My Name by The Weeknd

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, mention of online sex work, use of y/n, jealousy, slight cursing, Daddy kink, arguing, possessive!Jake, FWB (kinda?), slapping, cream pie, camera usage, somewhat pervy/ gross side character, smoking & alcohol

summary: When you film a video with somebody else, Jake’s jealousy takes over.

—

Your whole life you’ve been known to tell a good lie. You’ve never been necessarily sneaky, you’ve just always been a good actress; a good pretender.

That’s why it’s easy to pretend that Kevin, the man on top of you, is making you see stars. He’s jabbing his penis inside of you like a double edged sword, managing to make every angle less pleasurable than the last.

You put on the performance of a lifetime, but only because the cameras are rolling. A red, blinking light stares back at you to taunt you; to let you know that it’s not over until he’s done.

So, you arch your back off the bed, kiss all over his body, wrap your legs around his waist, chanting words you don’t mean. Words along the lines of, “It feels so good,” “Just like that,” and “Faster! Harder!”

The whole time, as Kevin pounds into you at an ungodly, un-pleasurable pace, all you can think about is Jake. Jake always managed to make you feel good even when the cameras were off. Yet you somehow always find yourself under subpar men.

A loud grunt, and a sweaty forehead against your shoulder pulls you out of your trance.

“Holy fuck that was good!” Kevin groans, his voice choppy as he attempts to catch his breath. His entire body collapses on top of yours, suffocating you under his weight.

This is your grand finale, the big show!

You let out a high pitched moan, claw at his back, and shake beneath him (as much as his weight will allow you) as you praise his hard work.

“So good! Fuck! I’m coming!”

You sit in the moment for a while, uncomfortably adjusting yourself under Kevin as the camera continues recording the awkward silence.

Finally, when you decide this entire interaction needs to end, your palms press flat against his shoulders to push him off of you. His body rolls onto the opposite side of the bed, chest still rising and falling rapidly as he comes down from his high.

You throw on a robe and walk over to the camera, turning it off and looking expectantly at Kevin. He smirks at you, misreading your expression completely.

“Already ready for round two?” He chuckles. “Couldn’t get enough of the stallion, huh?”

He stands up and begins walking over to you while stroking himself, ready to engulf your frame in his arms.

You scoff, picking his clothes up from the floor and shoving it into his chest. “Let’s see how many views this gets. Then I’ll think about it.”

Kevin wears a dumbfounded expression as you kick him out of your house. You’re definitely NEVER collabing with him again, no matter the views.

—

Loud music bumps through the club speakers. A cold drink sits in Jake’s hand, the same drink he’s been nursing all night.

All week he’d been looking forward to a night out with his friends, but now that he’s actually here, he’s not sure he’s enjoying it as much as he thought he would. Maybe it’s just because you haven’t arrived yet.

Kevin stands across from him, retelling stories that everyone is only half-listening to. For as long as Jake has known him, he’s hated Kevin. Everything from the way that he walks, talks, dresses, and even the way that he name drops all of his collabs.*1

As an online sex worker, Jake knows that collaborations between creators are no strings attached and meaningless (for the most part at least). But as Kevin says your name, and describes in detail how good the sex was, Jake can’t help but feel jealous.

“I had her in every position you can think of,” Kevin boasts, holding his arms out as he thrusts the air. “I don’t think I’ve ever made someone cum that fast either,” he continues, pretending to slap ass as he continues his gross display.

Jake scoffs, unintentionally gaining Kevin’s attention.

“Jake! You’ve filmed with her before, right?” Kevin asks.

Jake’s done more than film with you, but he’s not the type to show off. “Yeah, we’ve collabed here and there.”

Kevin jabs Jake’s side, “So you know how tight that pussy is then.” Jake’s heard enough, he shoves Kevin away from him and downs the drink that was still in his hand.

He sucks in through his teeth, slamming the glass onto a nearby table before pushing his way out of the club. “Fuck’s his problem?” Kevin says in confusion, watching as Jake disappears outside.

Jake doesn’t know why he’s so upset, or even why he’s jealous in the first place. He knows you’ve had sex with people other than him, it’s literally your job, but for some reason it gets under his skin ever time.

The thought of you under another man —even if it is just for work— and enjoying it makes him see red. Sometimes he wishes your relationship wasn’t so transactional, that he could have you all to himself even when the camera wasn’t rolling. But he’s forced to accept the fact that what you two share is purely business.

Jake now stands outside of the club, back against a rough brick wall as he tries hard to think of anything other than you. He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, craving the burn that smoking brings him to distract his mind. He’s quick to light the stick and take a long drag from it, blowing in the general direction of an approaching figure.

The street is dimly lit, causing him to squint his eyes until you finally come into view. It’s almost like his jealousy summoned you.

Immediately you notice Jake, excitedly skipping over to him as quickly as your tight leather dress will allow you. “Got one for me?” you ask, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at his cigarette.

You look so happy to see him, but his face doesn’t mirror your expression. He’s quiet, trying to keep to himself as much as possible before his mind inevitably reminds him of Kevin’s words.

He pulls another cigarette out, watching as you place it between your lips and wait for him to light it for you.

“How come you’re not inside?” you ask through puffs of smoke. Jake can’t stop looking at your lips, reminiscing on all the times you wrapped them around his cock while a camera was pointed at your face.

“It was getting loud in there,” he replies simply, before mindlessly continuing, “Plus I couldn’t listen to Kevin keep talking about how good it felt to fuck you.”

You grimace at the mention of his name. “Kevin’s here?”

Jake’s jaw clenches, fingers flicking the cigarette onto the floor. “Don’t sound too excited,” he scoffs with an eye roll.

What the fuck? You choke on the smoke, coughing loudly as you reply, “I’m not?”

“Whatever, let’s just go inside. Everyone’s been waiting for you.” Jake’s pushes off the brick wall, ready to walk past you and into the club, but you stop him by standing directly in his path.

“Move, Y/n,” he grits, stretching his neck out to avoid eye contact.

“No. Why are you being so pissy?”

“I’m not. Now move.” Jake tries walking around you, but you just scoot over and block him again.

“Jake,” you say sternly, trying to pull his attention to you, he’s upset and stubborn. “Look at me.”

Finally, he meets your expectant gaze, and the look in his eyes is one you’ve only ever seen during sex. “C’mon, wouldn’t wanna keep Kevin waiting,” he grumbles, a clear displeasure evident in his tone.

Finally, it clicked.

“Are you jealous?” You tease, chuckling slightly. His expression shifts from annoyance to embarrassment, mostly because he never thought you’d catch on or that he made it so obvious.

“You’re jealous!” You exclaim, trying hard to hold back your laughter. Once again, he scoffs, but he’s terrible at hiding his embarrassment.

“Aw Jake, don’t be jealous,” you tease.

“Video did get a lot of views though.” It’s true, the video brought a lot of traction to your account, but so did every single one of your other videos.

An idea pops into his mind at the revelation, but you don’t give him time to respond before you’re turning on your heel and excitedly walking into the club.

—

All night you’ve been working towards making Jake more jealous than he already was. All you had to do was stand close to Kevin, chat him up a bit, and pretend to be interested in whatever he quipped back. Kevin was definitely getting the wrong idea, but if it got you closer to Jake, it didn’t matter.

Jake’s eyes have been glued to you from the moment you entered the club, trained on your every move. His blood is boiling, his jaw is clenched, and his fists are bawled.

He needs to come up with an excuse to get you alone as quickly as possible, just so you two can make a video of your own. Honestly, he’ll be content for some alone time with you even if the camera isn’t involved.

Jake watches in jealousy as your hands grip Kevin’s bicep, supporting yourself as you throw your head back in laughter. Surely Kevin isn’t that funny.

Kevin’s arm manages to escape your grip and slither around your waist, his hand resting on your ass before squeezing it. You know Jake’s watching, so you let Kevin put on a show.

When Kevin slaps your ass, loudly and proudly, Jake decides he’s seen enough. So, he walks over to you without a real plan, but he’s being fueled by rage and jealousy.

Jake leans down in front of you, whispering into your ear, “Meet me in the parking lot.”

You struggle to hear him over the music and Kevin’s hold on you makes it hard to scoot in closer to him.

“What?” You whisper shout.

“Meet me in the parking lot,” Jake repeats, gritting his teeth and sending an unreadable look towards Kevin.

He’s quick to dismiss himself from everyone else, bidding his goodbyes as he walks out into the parking lot. As you watch his brooding figure disappear, your thighs subconsciously clench together. For some reason, the miserable, possessive aura that radiated from him was causing a heat to grow within you.

After some minutes, you make up an excuse as to why you need to leave. Something along the lines of, “I have an early day tomorrow.” Luckily, no one questions your excuse, or the way you giddily skip out of the club, not even Kevin.

When you exit the building and round the corner into the parking lot, you spot Jake leaning against the hood of his car. A cigarette sits between his lips, the lit end blinking with each inhale.

“No Kevin?” He says with a sly grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “I can go get him if you want?” You turn on your heels, pretending like you’re going to walk back into the club.

“I was kidding,” he grumbles, pulling your body into his roughly. You slam against him, your crotch hitting his already erect member.

Jake’s arms wrap around your waist, both hands landing on your ass. He squeezes firmly, massaging your skin repeatedly.

“Why’d you call me out here, Jake?” You ask, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

“You know why,” he hums, applying pressure to your back until you’re basically grinding.

You decide to tease him, knowing that he’s so unbelievably horny that it’ll work him up even further. “I don’t know why, Jake. Care to explain?”

He’s still grinding himself into you, his breath becoming heavy with every passing second. Jake’s mind is going crazy with the thought of you on the back of his car, camera in your face, praising every inch of his body.

Jake’s head falls onto your shoulder, mouth latching onto the skin of your neck in a soft, sloppy attack of kisses. “Just thought we could… you know, make a video of our own,” he murmurs against your skin.

You want to give in, to take him right there in the middle of the parking lot, but you know that the further you push him, the greater the reward.

“We’ve made enough videos. They don’t bring in as many views as my other ones…” you say, stifling a moan. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t have to know that. Your videos with Jake are easily the most popular on your account.

“… As my videos with Kevin.”

Jake’s lips come to a halt, hands becoming stiff on your ass.

“Yeah?” Jake says.

“Yeah.” You reply, a stubborn underlying tone in your voice.

He unlocks his car, opening the back seat. “Get in.”

“What?” You laugh, slight confusion written on your face.

“You heard me,” he growls.

As you begin crawling into the backseat, his hand lands a firm slap on your ass.

“We’re gonna see how many views we can get you.”

—

Even though this is what you’ve wanted all night, now that you’re in the backseat of Jake’s car, you feel nervous. You’ve filmed videos like this before, yet you feel like a virgin anxiously awaiting to be touched.

Because you’re in a car, you have none of your camera equipment, so you’re wondering what Jake will record this on.

“C’mere,” Jake murmurs, catching sight of the way you anxiously play with the hem of your dress. “What happened to all that confidence?” He teases as you make your way onto his lap, finding a comfortable position over his crotch.

Instinctively, you grind onto him, but his hands are quick to stop you. “Uh uh. I’m in control, baby.”

“You were acting like a stupid brat. You think brats deserve to be rewarded?” He asks, pulling his phone out of his one pocket. You don’t answer, but you don’t have to because he does it for you, “They don’t. They get punished.”

The phone’s flash shines in your face, a clear indicator that he’s started recording. Suddenly, you become shy, because even if this is what you do for a living, it always feels more vulnerable and real with Jake.

A shocked gasp escapes your lips as he swiftly maneuvers you so that you’re lying across his lap. Your tight dress has managed to ride past your hips at this point, providing Jake the perfect view of your ass which he gladly captures on camera.

“You know what happens to brats, Y/n?” Jake asks, his unoccupied hand massaging your thighs and ass.

Your voice is squeaky as you try not to get lost in the feeling of his hands all over you, “Mmm— No.”

Suddenly, he delivers a quick slap to your bum. You weren’t expecting it, and you’re so lost in the moment that all you can manage to do is squeal.

“You like that?” He taunts, focusing the camera on the red handprint that’s forming on your skin. You bite your lip and nod your head, batting your eyelashes at him. Not only did you know that this would rile him up, but you actually did like that.

“Fucking brat,” he grits. Jake’s hand lands on your ass again, only slightly harder than before. The sting courses through your body, eliciting the smallest moan from you.

He delivers another slap. “I won’t stop until I know you’ve learned your lesson.” Slap.

You cover your mouth, attempting to muffle your moans and whimpers. But it’s no use, you’re enjoying this much more than you’d care to admit.

If it weren’t for the wetness that formed in your panties, you might’ve allowed this to continue all night. But, as he continues delivering slap after slap, all you can think about is the erection that is poking at your stomach.

So when he proposes the question, “Have you learned your lesson?”

You’re quick to reply with, “Yes. Yes, Daddy.”

The pet name flips a switch in Jake. It’s the first time anyone has ever referred to him as that, and he’s instantly addicted.

“Say it again.”

You crawl back into his lap, sitting right above his crotch. Your fingers weave through his hair and tug the strands.

Slowly, you lean close enough for your lips to graze his. “I learned my lesson,” you whisper, “Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he whimpers. Suddenly he doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to remain in control. There’s something about the way the word sounds coming from your sultry voice. It has him weak.

You grind onto his cock as you connect your lips with his. The kiss is sloppy, needy, and tastes of desire. Jake’s completely forgotten about the phone, tossing it to the side and allowing his hands to roam your body.

His strong, rough hands travel from your ass to your boobs, pulling the dress down until your breasts are free. He hungrily latches onto your nipples, sucking and nipping at the sensitive buds until your head is thrown back in pleasure.

Your body continues gyrating against his, the material of his jeans providing you with the slightest relief. It still wasn’t enough, though, you needed to feel him, all of him.

You pull his face back up to yours, capturing his lips in another heated makeout session. Moans and groans are swallowed by the kiss as his tongue slips into your mouth. You’re breathless, but the kiss is so much better than oxygen.

One of your hands begins palming him through his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper in an attempt to free his cock.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you beg against his lips.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck you so good,” he grunts, watching as you pull his pants down. Jake’s cock springs free, precum already leaking from the red, swollen tip.

As you pump him slowly, spreading his natural lubrication along his shaft, he uses one of his fingers to pull your panties to the side. The fabric pushes against your clit and the pressure is soon replaced with his fingers as he circles the bundle of nerves rhythmically.

You’re quick to position yourself over his cock, sitting on the tip momentarily before sinking down on it completely.

“Jake— fuck!” You moan, throwing your head onto his shoulder. Jake’s size always manages to overwhelm you.

You’re about to start bouncing on his dick, but he stops you with strong hands on your waist.

“That’s not my name.”

Rutting your hips in response earns you yet another slap to the ass.

“Don’t be a brat. Say my name,” he growls.

You clench around his girth, desperate for some sort of relief as he continues to hold you in place.

“Say.” Slap. “My.” Slap. “Name.” Slap.

Your asscheek is red and stinging, the need growing deep within your core. “Jake?” You tease, feigned innocence laced in your voice.

In an attempt to reposition himself, he bucks his hips upwards into you. You whimper at the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix.

“Wanna act stupid?” He asks, mostly to himself. He grabs the long forgotten phone, its flash once again illuminating your exposed body. “I’ll fuck you stupid then.”

In one swoop, Jake lays you on your back in the backseat. Your tits jiggle against the fabric of your dress that’s pooled beneath them, an excited giggle being the only thing keeping you from moaning.

“You won’t think shit’s funny when I’m done with you.”

His large hand slithers up your body, wrapping around your neck as he begins pounding into you relentlessly. Small hands wrap around his wrist as you try adjusting to the feeling.

He’s fucking you so fast, so good. Muffled and strained moans ring through the car, harmonizing with the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

Jake’s still pointing the camera in your face, capturing your fucked out expression perfectly. He expertly angles the camera down to your wet cunt, biting his lip at the sight he’s met with. His length plunges in and out of you repeatedly, squelching as it’s coated in your slick.

“Jake— I—,” you stutter through your words, the euphoric feeling of his dick suffocated between your walls clouding your mind with lust.

He pulls out of you completely, immediately missing the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, but he needs to teach you a lesson.

Your hips lift from the leathery cushion beneath them, chasing his cock in a hungry haze. You whimper and claw at the wrist that’s wrapped around your throat, begging desperately for him to stuff you again.

“Say my name,” he commands. Your nose scrunches in indignation.

His grip on your throat loosens, that same hand traveling down to his aching cock. Jake teasingly traces the tip along your cunt, earning another hip buck from you.

“You know what to do, baby,” he teases.

“One word will give you everything you want.” He slaps the tip against your throbbing clit. You want to continue playing this game, but you know you won’t last long.

You sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows. The camera has the perfect view of your face and your pussy that clenches around nothing.

Your eyelashes bat against your cheeks as you bite your lip. “Please, Daddy. Please fuck me.”

As soon as the pet name leaves your mouth, Jake is diving back into you in a hungry frenzy. The force pushes you back onto your back. His pounding thrusts have you seeing stars, his tip kissing your cervix each time.

“Was that so fucking hard?” He grunts. One of his hands grips your waist, providing him with the leverage necessary to continue fucking you deep and hard. The other hand, is focused on filming every beautiful second of this. From the way you look wrapped around him, to the way your mouth falls open because of the sheer pleasure coursing through your veins.

His grunts bring you closer to the edge, especially when mixed with the filthy words that fall from his lips. “Did Kevin fuck you this good? Did his dick have you squirming and whimpering like this?”

You’re too fucked out to respond, causing Jake to pound into you even harder than before. “Hmm? Did he?”

“No, Daddy. No one fucks me this good— fuck!” Your eyes screw shut as he fucks you at a particularly delicious angle. “Only you do, Daddy. Only you.”

You feel your climax approaching quickly, so you slither your hand down to your clit. Your fingers rub circles into the sensitive bud as you chase your high.

Jake’s orgasm must be close too because his hips stutter and his movements become sloppier, a string of curse words and moans melodically falling on the skin of your neck.

“I’m coming!” You squeak.

Your legs convulse and shake as your orgasm washes over you, your core clenching around Jake’s cock as he continues pushing and pulling inside of you.

“Fuck. You feel so good, baby. So, so good,” he praises as your plushy walls continue clamping around his dick.

He’s so unbelievably close, all he needs is to hear you say his name one last time. “Say my name, baby. I’m so close.”

You chant the pet name like a mantra, kissing his sweaty chest and shoulders repeatedly to help him reach his orgasm. He loves the way you say it and would gladly listen to you say it forever if he could.

Jake’s hips snap into you one last time as hot, sticky ropes of cum paint your insides. A breathy, animalistic moan racks through his body as he collapses onto you.

For the first time in a long time, the weight of a man’s body on you doesn’t feel suffocating. Instead, it feels comforting and you’d love for him to remain this close to you for as long as possible.

But, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. So, as you both recover from the powerful orgasms that just surged through your body, he pulls out of you slowly.

You immediately miss the feeling of him inside of you and as he turns the phone off, you find yourself wishing you were still under the spotlight, because maybe then the moment would last longer.

You sit up and adjust your dress. “Hope you got your footage,” you comment, attempting to sound nonchalant. “It’ll get a lot of views.”

Jake pulls his pants up, sending you a bewildered look. “You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m sharing this,” he chuckles.

Your brows furrow in confusion, a slight twinge of embarrassment painting your expression. “Was it not good enough?”

As you await his response, you crawl into the passenger seat. He follows suit shortly after, joining you in the driver’s seat.

“Was it not good enough?” He scoffs, restating your question like it’s an insult. “It was too good.”

A blush forms on your face. You don’t know what it is about Jake that always makes you feel like a giggly teenage girl.

“It was too damn good, baby. And Daddy doesn’t like sharing.”

Instinctively, your thighs press together. He always managed to rile you up within seconds.

“You’re mine, don’t forget that. I’m greedy,” Jake states.

You nod your head slowly.

“And whatever Daddy wants, Daddy gets.” His right hand rests on your thigh as the other works the steering wheel. *2

“Yes Daddy,” you whisper, earning yourself a squeeze. If it meant he’d fuck you like he just did, you were going to continue calling out his name.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n:

okay so I’m writing Arranged CH.2 rn, but this idea just came to me based on the two requests (linked). Also, I need a smut break tbh I NEED TO WRITE SOMETHING FLUFFY AND/ OR ANGSTY. which is what Arranged is perfect for 😏

I’m trying to gain the motivation to write frequently again so I can post more, but it’s a process. I’m getting there guys.

Thank you my sweet anons for these reqs (linked), hope you enjoy!!!

- L.A.M.B 👼🏻💗

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1* Kendrick V. Drake, thoughts? Personally, I’m team Kendrick 🤔 the songs are too damn catchy

2* I know he says “whatever daddy wants, daddy gets,” as a joke, but let’s pretend he says it to get us all worked up. okay? Okay.

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[letorip]

clingy tara carpenter hcs?

clingy tara carpenter

idk why but i’m in a tara mood so this was definitely more fun to write. it’s more like headcanons than my normal ones just because i think it’s interesting to follow and i had lots of ideas but not necessarily following a through-line story like many of them do

you and Tara meet at Blackmore and she is instantly fixated on you. it’s something she tries to hide at first, she’s too used to being something of a cool, aloof girl

you’re friendly, kind, funny, and smart, and it feels weird— like when she’s with you, she’s finally breathing at full capacity. it’s kind of odd at first, that you cut away the facade she constantly puts up. with other people who chase her and flirt with her, it feels like breathing, but when you do it, it catches her off guard, and it makes her stumble, especially the first time

she’s always bugging asking Anika if you’re coming to hang out with them or at a party, and gets a bit disappointed whenever the answer is no. she’ll still go, since Mindy would kill her if she didn’t, but she’s way less excited than before

Tara decides to go the natural route, and see you out in public, but you don’t have the same major so you pretty much never cross paths on campus

she gets increasingly frustrated, going to back to back parties in search of you on a friday night, only to discover that your instagram story says you were actually at the library the entire time

she does the exact same thing the next day, on a saturday night, and ends up going to four parties only to find that you’re once more not even there

after giving up on that she just goes into your dms and musters enough courage after a week to finally send a message asking you to hang out

after you start dating, it’s even worse than tara thought

she needs you so so so bad, this girl is down atrocious

you’re pretty much inseparable after that point, not that tara would ever admit it. she’s not used to needing anyone ever, with sam leaving and her mom being the way she is ever

you go on a trip for a week with your family around the holidays and every night you and Tara fall asleep on the phone together, or you facetime for a while, and she’s counting down the days until you come back

she wants to know everything, and she watches with a small smile when you’re excitedly explaining how the trip is going

she picks you up from the airport with one of those cheesy signs, but she pretty much drops it and rushes into your arms, and she’s crying

she hates crying in public, but she’s missed you so much

she tells you everything about every movie she’s pretty much ever watched, sometimes as a way to help you sleep. you’re not actually completely listening, you just fall asleep better to her voice and movies are a thing she can talk about for a LOOOONG time

she’ll show you her favourites that she’s seen a million times, only instead of watching the movie, she’s watching your face and your expressions.

she tracks your location, but not because she’s suspicious of you. it’s because she’s paranoid that something could happen to you, and that’s the last thing she would want in the universe

if ghostface did ever come back, she’s the first to get you to safety. she’d definitely try the say-something-mean-to-get-you-to-leave tactic, but it wouldn’t work, and you’d just hold her, forehead to forehead while she cries about needing you and needing to keep you safe at the same time

she steals your shirts and your jackets whenever she can. it smells like you and it keeps her warm, and she’ll “accidentally” forget her jacket at home during the winter

she’s definitely a jealous person. she knows that everyone wants you and honestly she can’t blame them, but you’re hers and she wants everyone else to know. when a girl will approach you at the party that Tara brought you to, and she looks a little too comfortable, Tara will grab you by the arm and drag you hastily upstairs to claim her territory, and mark up your neck for proof

she’ll definitely be the type to deny she’s clingy. you’ll joking say “you’re so clingy” when she’s got her arms wrapped around you, and she’ll scoff and get genuinely offended by the insinuation that she needs you and clings to you

then of course she’ll want to cuddle 5 minutes later

thanks, hopefully will be posting again soon