#BEEN SHAKING HER AND THE SILLY BOOK IN SILLY HUG AFTER SILLY HUG

[just-miru]

SCREAMING AND HAPPY STIMING THROUGH THE WALL AND POUNDING MY HEAD AGAINST THE KITCHEN FLOOR MY FREND GOT ME LOVELESS BY ALICE OSEMAN AUGHFAHAJGAJA ADAGFADAGAFAHGAADAGGAFAHAGFAFAHFAGAFAFAFAGAHHSGAFAGHAFAGGAGAFAGFAGAFADFADAFFAHSJJAJA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.7 to lose someone you love

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 7/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 8.5k

a/n. sighhh i'm rly sorry for the wait. and thank you sooo much to the love for the last chapter omg :') this chapter is gojo pov and it's a bit different than the rest, but i still hope you enjoy and that it was worth the wait. if there are typos, they're not typos they're actually 100% intentional and you are the silly one

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When Gojo was just four years old, he called for the paramedics for the very first time. 

He had wandered around the house, wide and innocent blue eyes searching the room for the landline in the dim light of the evening, his lip quivering in a pout. His small arm reached up to pet around at the top of his parents’ dresser before his fingers wrapped around the phone. He couldn’t remember what the number was at first, the one his mother always told him to call in case of an emergency, but he remembered he scribbled it down somewhere with red crayon in one of his coloring books. By the time Gojo first realized he needed to call for help, located the landline, looked through all of his little portraits of dinosaurs and spaceships sprawled across the carpet of his room, found those three numbers, and then finally dialed them, his father had already been seizing and shaking on the bathroom floor for longer than twenty-four minutes.  

He was just a child. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know any better.

Gojo spent the remainder of that night hugging his mom in the hospital’s emergency room, his tears soaking through her shirt as she gently rocked him back and forth in her lap while whispering soothing words in his ear. His father lay motionless on the hospital bed before them, eyes shut, and Gojo will never forget the haunting sounds of the machinery that was keeping his father alive. It was a sudden onset seizure, likely stemming from the traumatic brain injury his father had suffered a few years ago, and the prolonged convulsions he experienced on the bathroom floor that night had resulted in severe brain damage. Gojo could still hear the echo of his mother’s silent cry when the doctors informed them that it’s unlikely his father would ever fully recover from this.

No reasonable adult would ever look a four-year-old in the eyes and say if you had called for help sooner or knew what to do, maybe your father would’ve still had the chance to live a long life. Yet, even at his young age, Gojo was aware of the energy in the room, and that explanation was the only truth his mind could grasp onto to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

After two weeks of clinging to life, his father miraculously woke up from his coma and persevered for the sake of his wife and son. Shortly after the incident, he began to have recurring seizures but fought through them each time. Without fail, he made Gojo breakfast in the mornings, even if it meant having to clean up the spilt orange juice on the counter every now and then because of how his hands could not stop trembling. He always walked Gojo to the bus stop, waving him goodbye, despite how troublesome and embarrassing he found it to use his cane. The love he had for his son was so palpable that it eclipsed the bitterness over how his life had ended up because of the blessing it had brought him.

In his prime, Gojo’s father was a renowned soccer player, so incredibly talented at the sport that he left a lasting mark on the way teams strategized, his presence on the field commanding respect, and he was one of the greatest talents the entire college division had ever seen.

He met Gojo’s mother at one of his freshman year games, a pretty lady in the stands that caught his eye from the sight of her laughter among her friends, her radiance drawing him to her from the field, and that’s how their love began. Exactly one year following that day, he stole one of his grandmother’s thrifted rings from her jewelry collection and that was what he used to propose. Gojo’s mother had accepted it with so many tears and so much snot running down her face, and he had never found her more beautiful. They married young and sweet, like most people back then.

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

No one knew that would be the last game of soccer he would ever play.  

It was a freak accident, a distracted driver behind the wheel of a gray Chevy on a dark and rainy night, veered straight towards Gojo’s parents car to avoid a branch on the road. In a moment that could only be described as his instinct to protect, he quickly swerved his vehicle, taking the brunt of the impact on his side. His family surrounded him at his hospital bedside as they grappled with the news that he would be unable to play the sport ever again due to his traumatic brain injury that would lead to lifelong motor function loss. According to the doctors and police, had he not swerved to shield his wife and unborn child, the outcome would have been far more disastrous. After months of rehabilitation, he regained enough ability to walk and just enough function in his extremities to welcome his newborn son in his arms.

When Gojo was just six years old, two years after witnessing his father’s first seizure, he stumbled upon a dusty, forgotten soccer ball tucked away in the corner of the garage. When he eagerly presented it to his father, excitement gleaming in his eyes, he was only met with a scowl and the demand to discard it, to never bring such things like that to him ever again. His mother protested, ensuing in an argument, and as Gojo lowered his gaze to the ball in his hands, he noticed his father’s faded signature adorned with a heart and message of love for his mother. The ink, once vibrant, now faded with time.

It wasn’t until Gojo turned seven that his father finally relented to teach him more about the sport, knowing it was all his son wanted for his birthday. With determination in his heart, Gojo pleaded for his father’s guidance, eager to kick around a nearly deflated, weathered ball. His father watched his son, expression morphing from reserved and stoic, softening to surprise, then hopeful, and he found himself cheering on his son’s clumsy endeavors on the field despite how many times he tumbled and fell. Because that was his son, his pride and joy, reminiscent of him embracing the sport that he himself had cherished so many years ago. 

As Gojo grew older and excelled at the sport, securing victory after victory in every youth league, his father’s health steadily declined. The recurring seizures caused by the brain damage from his prolonged convulsions on that fateful night exacerbated over the years and started to take an increasing toll on his body. Yet still, he never missed even a single one of his son’s games. Whenever Gojo swiftly sent the ball flying through the net, the first person his eyes would search for on the field was his father, the joy in his eyes being all he cared about in the world. Gojo lived to make his father proud, because it was the only thing that made him feel like he could make up for what little he had done to protect his father that night.

You were just a child. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know any better.

The day following Gojo’s eleventh birthday, his father had his second major seizure, falling into another coma, but this time he never woke up. Two years later, his mother made the tough decision to end his life-support, and then he was gone from their lives. Gojo’s mother was inconsolable, and he knew that his father took a piece of her soul with him to heaven that night. The piece that allowed her to smile. 

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning. 

But why was he remembering all of that now? 

The shrill of Gojo’s alarm clock woke him up from the intrusive memories that were washing through the fore-front of his mind, and he grumbled to himself before whacking at his nightstand haphazardly to shut the thing off. He ran a hand across his face in an attempt to wipe the sleepiness away, features instantly settling into an annoyed scowl as he blinked his eyes open and the filtering sunlight through the windows harassed his vision. 

He laid there for a few seconds, mending to the pounding headache at his temples with his fingers rubbing circles, and then he finally sat up in bed. Blinking at his sheets, the images of last night start to flash through his mind. The heavy music, the dim lighting of the bathroom, the dizzying jealousy, and the taste of you on his tongue–

The memory is supposed to arouse him, and would on any normal day, but because you had left him standing there stunned with no release of his own at all, he instead just feels a pulsing, soul-deep throbbing pain at his crotch that could really only be due to the fact he was left high and dry by you last night. He groans at the sensation, palm pushing down on his lower abdomen to try and relax the torture, which barely helped. It’s either he jerks off or takes a cold shower, and given the former was likely not possible for him right now since his god-forsaken brain decided to push the traumatizing experiences of his childhood to the forefront of his headspace first thing in the morning, meaning it’s unlikely he’ll be able to settle into the memory of you bent over that bathroom counter for him, he decides on the cold shower. And it’s safe to say that today already fucking sucked.

The moment the chill water hits the skin of his body, he recollects the look you had on your face right before you walked out on him. Soft, searching, to him almost seraphic, but you also looked wounded. And something from your anger with him since before he even had you in that bathroom, to the agonizing moment you left him in there by himself, told him he’d messed up big time with you somewhere along the lines. 

He knew he had been a jerk last night. He didn’t really have much of a right to be seethingly possessive of you, but the sight of you kissing another guy had him seeing red and his knuckles turning white. He finds himself clenching his jaw at the unwelcome memory even now. He figured he probably ruined what would’ve otherwise been an enjoyable night for you, and so you decided to get revenge by walking out on him. However, he can’t shake the feeling that things are messy and complicated now, primarily because of him, and he felt like he needed to apologize for dragging you into his weird, confusing emotions.

He gets himself dry and dressed, grateful for the barely sufficient relief he had down south, and sighs as he grabs his phone and taps on your name, thinking about what to say to you, and just settles on typing out Hey, can we talk? and then presses send. He turns the ringer of his phone off, tosses the device onto his bed and then heads out the door. 

Geto was sitting on the couch in the loft, rubbing an ice cube across his forehead as he sprawled on the cushions and let out low and consistent groans to himself. Gojo flopped down on the armchair across from him and assumed a similar position, rubbing at his temples to nurse his own headache. Geto opens an eye to look at him.

“Morning,” he grumbles. 

“I take it I’m not the only one that feels like they’ve been hit by a truck?” Gojo asks.

Geto makes a disgruntled noise and throws his head back on the cushion. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. God knows how much I had last night.” He reaches over to the console table in the center for the bottle of Ibuprofen and tosses it to Gojo, who catches it and stares down at the label. “I didn’t really see you drink that much though. Don’t know why you’re hungover.”

Gojo sighs. He wasn’t hungover. His headache was from the fact that had a lot on his mind. Like the feeling of your skin last night. And then the pain of being blue-balled. And also for some reason his father’s death. Very exhausting to juggle those thoughts at once. 

Gojo twists the cap off the bottle of Ibuprofen and pops two pills, drowning them in his mouth with Geto’s glass of water, then runs a frustrated hand through his hair. The man across from him raises an eyebrow.

“You good?” he asks.

“Super peachy,” Gojo replies.

He sighs. “Well, whatever it is, just make sure it doesn’t affect your play today,” Geto warns him, sinking further down into the couch. Gojo lets out an exhale through his nose. Geto usually pushed further for answers whenever he was in a mood, so the fact that he didn’t this time meant that hangover was bad.

“I’m more worried about you. You think you’ll be fine in a few hours?” Gojo asks. Geto just waves his hand in the air in response as he grabs the hand towel on his chest and drags it up over his face, shielding himself from the light of the room.

“I have no choice but to be fine. We have to win this game,” is all he says through muffling cloth.

Gojo nods, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at the carpet. It was finally the game of the 28th, arguably the second-most important game of the season. If they take home the win, they’re automatically seeded into top sixteen teams, which means they’ll only have to win four more matches after today to take home the championship. But if they lose, they’re seeded to the bottom, and then four turns into a daunting eight. In the history of the league, not a single team has ever lost their pre-seed game and still continued to win the playoff championship. So Geto was right, they have no choice but to win today. Otherwise, they could kiss goodbye to a 12-year UTokyo championship streak.

“Not going for your run?” Geto asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Nah, not feeling up for it,” Gojo replies.

He clicks his tongue. “Never skip the pre-game ritual, man.”

Gojo groans, knowing that he’s right, and so he reluctantly gets up off the chair and heads back into his room. His phone lay there on the bed, facing down, and he felt so tragically taunted by it that he weighed the options of whether or not he should check if you replied back before his run or after his run. And then he’s wondering why you affect him this much in the first place.

He resolves to check after his run, and only gets one arm through his shirt before his hands betray him and he snatches his phone, eagerly tapping the screen to turn it on. 

He sees your name at the top, where you had just replied barely a minute ago. Sure, we can talk. He blinks at his phone when he sees the polite period at the end of your message, and the proper capitalization, not to mention a vocative comma? He was starting to feel really nervous.

He didn’t care that you had only replied a minute ago, he quickly typed out his response and sent it.

|| 10:35am Gojo: Do you know how to get onto the stadium field today?

He sees you typing, and he’s holding his breath.

|| 10:36am you: yes, I do. I’m going in w the newsletter journalists. Was this what you wanted to talk about?

What did he want to talk to you about exactly? Something like I’m sorry about being an ass last night, totally not cool for me to be that territorial over you, although I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again because seeing you kiss someone other than me kind of made me want to die. Also, I’m sorry for acting like you’re just someone I know, I don’t know why I did it. I guess it’s because I didn’t know if you thought of me as any more than just someone you know either, and that thought was frightening. Did I mention I hated seeing you kiss someone that wasn’t me?

He’s never really been good with words. Or feelings. 

10:37am Gojo: No, it’s not, it’s something else. I’ll come find you on the field before the game starts

He stands there, gaze fixed on his phone screen for the minute-long pause you took to respond, that for him felt like tortured eons, just for you to send-

10:39am you: k

Gojo finishes getting dressed for his run, anxiety brewing in his stomach drearily, and when he heads out the door of the house, the fresh morning air doesn’t help calm him down like it usually does. Of course, as he’s running, his thoughts wander to you. He’s thinking about the smell of your hair–or was it the perfume on your skin?–either way, it was intoxicating. The curve of your neck, that spot that made you whimper– fuck. Think of other things. Like the sound of your voice, soft and sometimes needy, but he enjoys it that way–makes his head spin. Or when you’re being sweet and thanking him for something you shouldn’t, because to him everything about you was a privilege and never a task. Even in the hot spring sun of the late morning, he finds himself missing the warmth from your body, and that look. That goddamn look in your eyes when you’re peering into his like you want him to–

“I’m sure he’s really proud of you.”

His legs stop him on their own, like they know something about the feelings in his chest that he doesn’t, and he’s standing still on the sidewalk of the neighborhood now. Short puffs of air escape his lips from his blood pumping fast through his body, and he could physically hear the sound of you in his head. Intimate enough to where he turns to the side slightly facing his surroundings, like there was no way it was just a memory and you weren’t actually near. He finds himself swallowing hard and having to consciously keep moving forward.

Gojo makes it back to the house, freshens up for the second time today, and gets dressed into his UTokyo soccer uniform with his signature #10 jersey. He leaves with Geto to campus, where all his teammates gather before eventually boarding the bus to the UTokyo stadium field ten minutes away. Coach Yaga yells their ears off in the locker rooms in an attempt to get their plays for today through their brains, and the exhilarating noises from the stands as they make their formal entrance through to the field fills Gojo’s senses, along with the obnoxiously loud music playing as pre-game rituals settle in. Gojo sets his bag down on the bench and joins the others in warm-ups for about fifteen minutes, before catching a chance to sneak away and look for you across the expansive pristine grass.

After lightly jogging around the perimeter of the field for a couple of minutes, he finally spots you, his raised eyebrows now flattening under the fringe of his hair as he relaxes. He didn’t realize he was tensing his shoulders until now. You were just beyond the sidelines near a hydration station, fidgeting with something in your camera case, lips pressed together in a frustrated expression, and he saw your body sulk with the sigh you let out as you must’ve realized you had forgotten something. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards into a slight smile, an unconscious reaction to seeing you look so damn cute from your troubled face decorated with a pout. And then he remembered he had been looking for you, and he had found you, and the only thing to do next was to be near you. 

He ambles up to you, and you only catch sight of him when he’s just a few feet away and finally standing in front of you. He sees your eyes widen slightly, lashes blinking once, twice, and then there’s a blush of color to your cheeks as you fidget with the stadium access badge hung around your neck. He noticed there were grass stains on your jeans over your knees when he looked down.

“Hey,” Gojo greets you over the loud music playing on the field.

“Hi,” he sees you say, and he realizes he can barely hear you.

“Let’s go over there,” Gojo yells, jerking his head over to the side.

He leads you over to an area tucked near the east side entrance, a corner slightly underneath one of the sectioned stands where the loud cheers of the stadium somehow reflected off less. It was about as private or silent of a place that the two of you could manage to have a conversation on a soccer field before a match, if you could just ignore the dressed up school mascots rehearsing their walk-ins and walk-outs through the entryway.

You take a few steps backwards until your back hits the concrete slab wall, and he’s in front of you as he watches you study him for a second, taking in the sight of his uniform, before your eyes finally meet his.

“Are you ready to take your photos today?” he asks you, poorly attempting to make small talk despite the images of you with him in that bathroom last night flashing through his memory. Now was seriously not the time to be turned on.

You nod, and respond “I am”, giving him absolutely nothing to work with.

He sighs. “Listen, about last night, I just wanted to apologize. For dragging you into that bathroom with me, although you did ask me to-” He sees you narrow your eyes and cross your arms across your chest. “Sorry,” he sighs, “Seriously, I just…I don’t know what got over me then.”

“You don’t know? Or you just don’t want to tell me?” you prod at him. He briefly considers pretending he doesn’t hear your question over the sound of the stadium, but he knows he wouldn't get away with that, not with the way you’re looking at him like he’s just one more fuck-up away from making you storm off.

He looks at your lips. “I guess the only thing I know is that I didn’t like seeing you kiss someone else.”

You shake your head and close your eyes. “I know you didn’t, Satoru. Otherwise last night wouldn’t have happened. What I’m asking is why.”

He’s struggling now, searching his head for answers, like he’s fighting for his life on a test that he didn’t study for. When he looks down, he notices your foot has been tapping impatiently. And when he looks back up, there’s that wounded expression from last night again. “I don’t know,” is all he can offer.

You uncross your arms from your chest, lips parting slightly as your eyebrows pinch upwards with a disheartened look. He sees your gaze shift slowly across the features of his face, searching, and he wonders if you can see something within him that he can’t. The thought terrifies him. “Fine. It’s my turn to speak.”

He nods slowly. He wasn’t sure what you wanted to say to him. He imagined you would just cuss him out with a few choice words for being a raging asshole last night and then you’d be on your merry way. But he senses sincerity in your voice. Not that he was phenomenal at reading people, though.

He watches as you clench and unclench your fists at your sides nervously, then twiddle with the strap of your camera, then tuck your hair behind your ears, then blink rapidly as you look up at him, then worry your bottom lip between your teeth, then open your mouth to speak just to close it again.

“Do you need me here for any of this?” he says in an attempt at a joke to ease you, but when all you give him is a glare, he’s fearful enough to be serious again.

“I like you.”

He blinks. “Thanks? I like you, too.”

“No, no. I like you as in I have feelings for you,” you clarify. Gojo’s eyes widen at the confession, and he stands up straighter. 

“Oh,” he finally replies when he realizes he hasn’t said anything yet, “I…I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Holy shit, if that was how you felt, then he really has been a raging asshole this entire time. 

You roll your eyes. “I know. You’re a hopelessly dense, menacingly flirty, sleazy frat dude college athlete,” you sigh, “But I still like you. Unfortunately, tragically, annoyingly, much to my dismay, against my better judgment,”

“Okay, I get it-”

“I think it started that night you stayed with me when I was stranded with my flat,” you confess suddenly, your chest rising a little bit faster, and his expression softened. “I just really appreciated you being there for me.”

His voice is gentle when he speaks next. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I would’ve been there if it happened ten times over,” he pauses, “although I’d seriously question your ability to drive if it happened that many times.”

“And I think it started when you walked me out to the practice field for the first time, and you told me you cared about my dreams,” you say with a slight step forwards to him, unable to acknowledge his words at all, as if there was a script you needed to stick to that was the only thing keeping you from falling apart in front of him. 

He finds himself instinctively leaning towards you, close enough to where he notices you’re wearing a different perfume today. “But that was before the night of your car incident,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you nod, and there’s that look in your eyes that he loves, “and I also think it started that first night we met and you looked sad when I said we weren’t friends.”

Gojo’s eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, and he finds himself breathing shallowly as he listens to your words. “y/n…I think you’re working backwards here.”

“I’m trying to say I’ve had feelings for you this whole time,” you say to him, “they were tiny at first, I didn’t really see them, but now they’re too big for me to hold all by myself.”

Gojo nods slowly, and he already knows what you’re going to ask of him next.

“I like you in a way that makes me want more from you,” you admit, eyes steadily on his with resolve, “I don’t want to be just someone you know, or someone only for sex-”

“y/n-” he tries to interrupt you.

“And I certainly won’t be someone that sits around to wait for a guy if he doesn’t want me back,” you say, but there’s an apprehensive look in your eyes when you speak next, “so, I need you to answer to my feelings.”

Gojo blinks at you, his heart beating fast in his chest from your confession, and he feels like with every testing second that he fails to answer you back, you slip further and further away from him.

He knew he had affection for you. He always wanted to be close to you, even when he already was, as if he couldn’t get close enough. He wanted to take care of you, and see that softness in your expression when he knew you felt safe and happy. He couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else, and it took him this damn long to realize as he stood in front of you that he had no interest in being with anyone else either. So then why did his chest feel so tight? And why was he struggling so much to give you an answer?

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning. 

Gojo’s eyes widened as the memories of his life flashed through his mind, a chill running down his spine as they knock the wind from his lungs and he feels that same sense of dread that has been following him like a ghost since that day when he was just four years old, standing in the hallway, wondering why his father was having a nightmare on the bathroom floor when he should’ve known it was something far worse than that.

Gojo blames himself for so much that had gone wrong in his life. And he should know that it’s not his fault, but all of his grief was greedy to breathe and live, desperate to find a reason for why he had to lose someone he loved, and his grief found a home in all of his guilt.

And he was terrified to lose someone close to him again. Even if he decided to see what could become with you, even if he thought for a moment that he was allowed to feel any sort of happiness with you, the thought of falling short and failing frightened him. He was so tired of adding to a long list of regrets in his life. And he knew he wasn’t what you needed— what you deserved.

“I…” he starts, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way about you.” He knows he sounds convincing enough from the way the light in your eyes dimmed, anticipation faltering and replaced with a sad expression over your features. He needs to take a shaky breath to continue speaking. “It seems I’ve led you on in a lot of ways, and I apologize for that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen anymore.”

You’re silent for a long moment, twiddling with your fingers as you look up at him. “I see…” you say, and when he sees your lower lip quiver slightly, he feels sick. His instinct is to reach out for you, pull you closer to him, but he knows that’s not a luxury you would allow for him, and he knew it wasn’t one he deserved either. 

Your voice is trembling when you speak next. “I appreciate you letting me know. And you don’t have to worry about not leading me on anymore, because this will be the last time you see me.”

His entire body runs rigid. 

“Why?” It’s a stupid question, but he asks it anyway.

“So I can get over you.”

All he can do is stand with the feeling of a chill in his bones.

“And I ask that you’ll respect my space while I do,” you add on at the end.

He’s silent for a long moment, then lets out the breath he was holding in. “I will,” he says, the promise leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

There’s a moment where you both just look at each other, as though the two of you were trying to hold onto the moment, but you’re the one to break out of it first, and he’s the one to wish it would’ve lasted a little longer.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” The words already sounded like goodbye. “I’ll make sure you look nice in your photos,” you say with a small smile, holding your camera up slightly, “and good luck today.” 

He wonders if he’ll regret this moment.

“Thanks.”

He steps aside so that you can walk past him and back out to the field. Gojo takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and relaxes his shoulders. Well, that was intense. Definitely not the direction he thought that conversation was going to go in at all, but that’s fine. He handled it fine. Totally fine. Things were going to be totally fine. He just has to play the match now.

The first step he takes back towards the field, he feels his uneasiness return, with the second step the feeling of his heart beating becomes violent in his head, with the third step he swears he can’t feel the tips of his fingers, with the fourth he feels severely nauseous, and with his fifth- was he seriously about to throw up?

He barely makes it back onto the grassy field cutting across the obstacles of people at the sidelines, using all his strength to not double over before he reaches a table and grabs one of the water bottles. He sees a group of men, all dressed in suits and loitering near the team manager’s station, perk their heads up at the sight of him and he’s groaning internally. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to any damn recruiters, but he sees one of them bold enough to approach him in his periphery. He sighs, taking one last gulp of water, and tries to stand up straight and look like he wasn’t going insane.

“Hi, I’m Jousuke Tsuda, recruiter for Tokyo Metropolitan’s national league team,” he says and stretches his hand out for Gojo to shake. The man looked aged, with thick creases to his forehead that could only mean he’s witnessed a hell of a lot of life and he has the soul to prove it.

Gojo’s eyes widen at the mention of Tokyo-Met’s team, and he grabs onto the man’s hand in as firm of a handshake he could manage. “Gojo Satoru.”

The man laughs. It’s deep with a slight crackle. “I know your name, son. Every recruiter in the country does. You’ve got a lot of eyes on you right now.”

“I’m flattered.”

The man raises an eyebrow at him. “Surely you feel pressured.”

Gojo only hums to himself.

The man glances at his watch. “I know the match starts in a few, but if I could have a moment of your time. Take a walk with me?”

“Sure.”

The two trail down the line of the field. “I’ll get straight to the point, kid. Tokyo-Met’s really keen on scouting you for the national league following your graduation,” he says.

Gojo feels like he should be excited about that news, actually, he should be ecstatic and groveling at this man’s feet, but instead he just feels empty and hollow inside. 

“Forget the fact that you’ll be playing in the nation’s most revered team,” the man continues, “but compensation is high, too.” He pulls his phone out from his front suit pocket, tapping away at his calculator app, then turns the screen towards Gojo. Holy shit. “I’m talking about a 350 million yen per year contract here. I could advocate for higher based on how well you perform the rest of the season.”

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Gojo responds.

The man is silent for a second then sighs. When the two of them reach a somewhat secluded bench near the corner of the field, he sits down on it and expects Gojo to do the same, to which he complies.

“You know, I’m used to much more enthusiastic reactions from players that hear this kind of news, although they’re usually ecstatic for barely a hundred million a year compared to what I’ve just offered you,” the man says.

“I guess it’s the pressure,” Gojo says to him, “it’s got my emotional response circuit all fried up, y’know?” He was pulling excuses out of his ass. 

A small hmph noise is heard beside him before he sees the man pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his slacks. “I know your father has left big shoes to fill, kid. I can’t imagine the fear of feeling like you’ll fail, or the anxiety of an injury taking you out any time you’re on the field, not wanting history to repeat itself.”

Gojo’s eye twitches and he narrows his eyes at the man seated beside him. “My dad got injured in a car accident, not while playing the sport.”

“I know,” he responds, finally pulling a cigarette out of the pack, holding it between his two fingers as he rests his wrist on his knee. “The story touched the hearts of everyone in Tokyo, and the entire soccer community in general. I remember reading about it in the school newspaper. Back in the day when they still printed those things out.” Gojo’s surprised, and he’s only given a sideways smile before the man continues. “I knew your father, went to the same college as him.”

“I don’t think he ever mentioned you,” Gojo says.

He lets out a hearty laugh. “He despised me. I was a money-hungry finance major that saw a huge opportunity in mediator sports recruitment agencies. Figured if I could sign a player like your father to my start-up, I’d be set for life. He was a smart man not to sign, regardless of how things turned out.” He shakes his head musingly. “I gave up after that and got a real job. You’ll find a lot of your hopes and dreams die in college.”

“I see,” Gojo says.

The man leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and looks over with a serious expression on his face. “Tell me, son, what does this sport mean to you? Why have you dedicated your entire life to playing it?”

Gojo only gives him a cursory glance.

“Is it the fame and attention? The pride? The thrill? The prospect of earning millions and then retiring at thirty, and you get to watch your wife and kids playing in your grand estate’s pool on a sunny summer Sunday while you’re swirling around a glass of ‘90s scotch in your hand?” he asks, tone derisive but luring. “Or does it mean something more to you?”

Gojo looks down at his hands that were clenched tightly into fists. He relaxes them so that his fingers fall open weakly and his palms face the sky. He remembers the feeling of being a kid, the smell of freshly cut grass consuming his senses, the sight of bruises on his knees from how many times he fell on the field chasing after the ball, and the admiration in his father’s eyes every single time he stood back up. “It’s a chance to prove myself,” he finally says.

“Prove yourself of what?” the man pushes.

“That I’m capable of greatness,” Gojo admits, “like my father.”

The man nods slowly in acknowledgment. “Yes, your father was a great man. But not because of how he played the game. He was a great man because he knew which sacrifices were truly important.”

Gojo looks at him wearily. “Are you trying to tell a player you’re attempting to recruit that the sport isn’t important?”

He shakes his head, looking straight ahead. “No, it’s important. But it’s the meaning you give to your life outside of it that gives it importance.”

Gojo raises an eyebrow at him, not really sure what to make of the cryptic sentiment.

The man claps his hands together and stands up. “Alright, I’m sure that’s all the time you’ve got for me. Think about my offer, and if any other recruiters approach you with better ones, just know I’ll push for higher.” He hands Gojo his business card and brings his cigarette to mouth, balancing it between his lips. “Reach out if you have any questions.”

Gojo looks down at the card, his finger tracing the edge of it as he studies the shimmering gold lettering. “Why not just hit me with your best offer and leave? Why bother having this kind of conversation with me?”

The man pulls his cigarette from his mouth, pinching it between his two fingers once again. “We’ve all got regrets we want to make right, kid,” he says. And with his hands in his pockets, he walks away. 

Gojo watches the man as he makes his way down the sidelines back to the cluster of men in suits. When he hears the referee whistle, he shoves the business card in the pocket of his uniform shorts, and makes his way towards the center of the sidelines.

His teammates instantly come up to him with optimistic smiles and encouraging pats on his chest and back, trying to keep the energy high to manifest a win for today, but Gojo just feels exhausted and like he’s drowning. He has so many thoughts swimming around in his head, he can’t even begin to explain, and he just wants someone to see through him at this moment. 

The teams stand on the field for the national anthem, and then Osaka Uni’s team disperses while UTokyo’s alma mater plays. Coach Yaga yells for all the players to huddle before the coin toss and reminds them of their plays for the afternoon.

Nanami pulls his sweatbands onto his wrists, Geto pulls his hair back up into a bun, Chosou pulls tightly on the straps of his goalie gloves, and Gojo pushes his hair up off his forehead to snap his headband onto his face. He looks around to his other teammates and that sense of pride he feels to be a part of this team swells dully despite his emotions.

UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kick, and Gojo finds his place in the center of the field. The crowd is already cheering preemptively, their pride in their home team evident in the passion of the filled stands, and Gojo peers across the large expanse of the field as he rests his foot on top of the soccer ball. It’s a scene he’s seen a hundred times in his life, but the sight is daunting today. He takes his foot off the ball when he hears the referee signal the start of the match with a short piercing shrill of his whistle, and the second Gojo draws his leg back and his foot makes contact with the ball, sending it flying forward, he can already feel that something feels very off.

Every single time he had the ball in his possession, his footwork felt heavy and delayed. His teammates had set up more than three chances for him to score, and he shot wide every single time. The crowd’s cheers started to diminish, and he could feel the growing discontent and exasperation from all eyes on the field. Ten minutes before halftime, they were down 1-0, and stakes were starting to feel high. 

One of his teammates passes a ball right to Gojo’s favored foot, the crowd instantly erupting with noise and stands to their feet as Gojo shuffles the ball past the penalty line, through Osaka’s defenders, eyes locked with the perfect opportunity to strike. This was good, he had his rhythm back, even if just for a moment, and he can see it, clear as day–the trajectory to the goal. With the feeling of slick sweat on his face and determination in his veins, he withdraws his leg back to kick the ball. The world went silent in his head, the only sound being the beating of his heart, and-

“this will be the last time you see me.”

When he recalls your voice, everything moves in slow-motion as his ankle slips slightly on the grass from his moment of hesitation, and then the ball is swiftly stolen by an opposing team player and maneuvered past him. 

“Fuck!” he hisses, immediately turning his head around as he helplessly watches the opponents players move with fervor in pursuit of another goal. The crowd hushed in horror as Osaka passed the ball through UTokyo’s defense, swiftly steadying down the side and sending the ball flying through Chosou’s outstretched arms. 2-0, and the lead ref calls for halftime. 

“Dude,” one of his teammates comes up to him as they walk back towards the benches and throws his arms up in the air, “what the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Seriously, man, not a single goal in the first half? You know how many times I’ve set up a shot for you?" another one of his teammates chimes in, nudging Gojo’s shoulder way harder than he’d usually warrant, and shortly after, a blaming fest begins among the players.

“Enough!” Coach Yaga yells out. All of the players quiet down and look at him, some grudgingly gulping down water while others just try to regain their breath. Gojo’s arms just hang at his sides in defeat. “We’re pushing everything on offense now, we can’t afford to miss any more shots,” Coach Yaga says, his fear of losing the match evident too despite his rough tone, “Satoru, I’m switching you out. Dai, take his place.”

“What?” Gojo asks incredulously, charging forward so he’s in front of the older man. “I’m not getting benched.”

“You will, because I say so,” Coach Yaga says sternly, “you’re distracted, boy. I can see it all over your face.”

“I’m n-”

“Just sit down,” Coach Yaga lets out a disgruntled noise. “When players are distracted, they get injured. Have faith in your teammates.”

“Coach,” Gojo asks again, this time almost pleading. He hardly ever questioned Coach Yaga’s calls, he had a great deal of respect for the man. But something within him just absolutely refused to get benched today.

Coach Yaga stares at him for a long moment, and it’s only when one of the refs chirps their whistle that he finally exhales and gives him a reluctant jerk of his head towards the field.

Geto sets up the perfect shot for Nanami to sweep for a kick that barely lands through the goalie’s lunge for the ball, and then on the next play, secures another goal himself. The score is tied, 2-2, with eight minutes left on the clock. Gojo manages to steal the ball on a defensive play, and it’s only really a stroke of luck that he manages in one solid pass the entire game, straight to Geto’s foot, crowd roaring, and he watches his best friend shoot and sink within the last minute and a half of the game. 

3-2. UTokyo’s win. 

Gojo sighs, exhausted as he makes his way to the bench, crouching down and zipping open his duffle bag. Spirits are low among the team despite the excitement from the crowd over their win because of how hauntingly close the loss felt during the last moments of the match, disinterested in celebrating at all as they meekly dispersed across the field. Gojo knew he was going to get a massive yelling-to from Coach Yaga and he could feel the searing disappointment from his teammates for not carrying the game more. This was just a bare win, could’ve gone either way, and his performance today wasn’t a good look for any recruiters either. He felt so emotionally and physically drained from this entire day, and he wasn’t sure how the hell he could feel any better.

Shuffling through his bag for a water bottle, his knuckles hit something cold and metallic-sounding tucked away inside. He hums to himself curiously before grabbing it and pulling it out.

strawberry vanilla soda.

Hm. This wasn’t the one you gave him a couple of days ago. He already drank that one. Did you sneak this into his bag? His brow furrows, and he stares at the sparkling smiling sloth on the label. When he turns the can in his hand, he sees a little note messily scribbled in black ink. 

good luck today! u got this :) ur a star

His eyes widened.

And putting his heart through a shredder would’ve hurt less than when he realizes what an idiot he’s been this entire time.

He’s instantly searching the field, peering through crowds of people, mascots, banners, flags, for any sight of you. He’s not sure how or why he goes in the direction that he does, but deep down it’s because he knows you like taking millions of pictures of flowers, and the west side exit has endless blooms of them. And so when he runs out that way, cleats tapping against the concrete pavement that leads out into the courtyard in the front of the stadium, and spots you standing there, he finally lets out the breath of air he feels like he’s been holding in his chest all day.

You’re aiming your camera at teal and orange petals scattered across the decorative florals lining the raised concrete planters, then pull it down from your face and twiddle with the settings, tilting your head to the side. You then pluck at one of the blooms that was spilling over the edges, bringing it to the tip of your nose curiously. And he just watches, chest heaving from the urgency that he rushed to get to you, heart aching from the desperation of wanting to be near you. He wanted to ask you how you were feeling, he wanted to know how your pictures came along, he wanted to know what you were doing after this, and he wanted you to be with him. But most importantly, he wanted to make sure that this wasn’t the last time he ever saw you again. 

It isn’t until a minute after that you seem keen on his presence too, and you swiftly turn your head in his direction, surprised. “Satoru?” you say. He wonders if he’ll melt. He wonders if those ice-cold barriers he’s built over the years could thaw just from the way you say his name.

But when he takes a step forward, you take a step back. And he halts. The expression on your face was unfamiliar to him. Once soft, curious, trusting. Now you looked at him like you were guarding something, keeping it safe from him, and he no longer had the right to intrude. And then he realizes the hell he’s put you through all this time.

He regrets pushing you away.

“I know I said I’d respect the fact that you want space,” he says through bated breath, “but I…I just can’t stand the thought of never seeing you again.”

You’re solemn when you look at him, reading the plea in his eyes, and then slowly shake your head. He feels like he can’t breathe. 

“I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

And then you walk out of his life.

a/n. thank you for reading! i have a few more author notes that explain a few things that i couldn't really find a way to fit into the chapter organically, but wanted to address before moving on, if you're curious you can find them here. hope to see you in the next one! pls lemme know if i missed any tags i'm sorry if i did :')

➸ take me to chapter eight!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @lost-resonance @foulprincesscycle @purplehallow11 @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @erencvlt @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @hojoslutoru @drthymby @ninitoru @btszn @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @fvsm4x @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @cierocanteat (thank you to everyone <3)

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I had an idea for a request! I was thinking about reader with a really low sex drive and maybe one day she starts to get a little worried and insecure about it and one of the boys just reassures her that he doesn’t care about it<3 idk if that made sense but write for whatever boy you want to I don’t have a preference love you 😚

How Remus, James and Sirius would comfort you when you worry your low libido is a problem. fem, 2.2k

❥ Remus 

Remus sits with his legs crossed in the corner of the settee, a book open on his thigh, though his attention has been caught and kept by the TV. 

You think some grovelling may be in order after last night. Quiet, you round the settee and climb onto the seat next to his, body turned away from the TV, arm creeping onto his thigh. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi.” 

He encourages you closer, leaning back to give you room to lie on him. His right arm does most of the work to keep you up, sandwiching you to his chest, an almost not quite hug. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“How do you know something is wrong?” 

He taps your back with his fingers, looking up at the ceiling with a sarcastic smile. “What could it be?” 

The hints of green in his irises are more pronounced when he’s sitting in the sun like this, rays cutting in through the window, turning his pale skin slightly tanned and his hair a warmer chestnut colour that curls behind his ears. The scar on his lip relaxes as his joking smile fades to a proper one, a lovey-dovey type that melts you. It’s nice to be looked at so nicely, like just the sight of you inspires happiness. 

You shift off of your legs, deciding you might as well lay flat with your head in his lap instead. He lets you sink down. His hand takes up station near your cheek, the back of his curled fingers brushing the skin just shy of your eye. 

“This is nice,” he whispers. 

“I have to say sorry,” you whisper back, drawing shapes into his t-shirt, the soft muscle of his stomach pillowy to poke. 

Remus nods emphatically. “Yes, you didn’t come and see me as soon as you woke up. I heard you on your phone in bed. That’s not very nice, is it, depriving me of your company?” 

You shake your head into his thigh, a slow, guilty movement. “No, about last night.” 

“What about last night?” 

Last night, Remus had given you a very slow kiss. He’d been half asleep and you’d been more so, but it was a lovely kiss and his hand had been rubbing sweet half circles into your hip, but it still made you feel awful when he asked if he could touch you and you’d told him you were too tired, even if he didn’t mind. He’d just kissed your cheek and snuggled into you like a life-sized teddy bear. He never takes your rejection as an insult. 

“You… you wanted to fuck and I didn’t, I’m sorry. I feel like every time you ask lately I say no.” 

Remus frowns at you. Deep frown, eyebrows pinching and brown eyes bordering sullen. His fingers uncurl over your cheek and cover your ear as he cups your face. “I don’t want you to be sorry. The reason I ask is so you can say no, you can always say no.” 

“I kiss you, and I wind you up, and then I can’t–”

“Which I enjoy. You don’t have to worry about that.” He leans down to kiss you but doesn’t fully get there, your noses touching, and then he’s leaning away again. “Please don’t say sorry. You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“I know that. I’m not trying to make you into the bad guy.” 

Remus taps your nose with his and leans in again. “I know you’re not. You aren’t one either. Sex is just another fun thing to do, okay? If you don’t want to, that shouldn’t bother me, and it doesn’t. I promise.” 

You curl your arms around his neck. He lifts his head, subsequently lifting you as he moves, his arm curling behind your back for a hug. 

“Sometimes I want more of you than you want to give,” he says, “but it’s just because I love you, not because I need it. Don’t be silly, dove. Don’t say sorry.” 

He presses the heel of his palm to your back and begins the heavy pressure of a back rub. You won’t say sorry if he doesn’t want you to. You shouldn’t anyways. But he’s your boyfriend and you love him, so his being accepting of it is a relief. 

Like he can read your mind, he says, “You never have to say sorry for this.” 

“I know.” You lift your chin. “Kiss?” 

Remus kisses you quickly before tucking you into his neck for a long hug. 

❥ James

“You’re beautiful.” 

You’re boiling. James doesn’t notice, kissing and kissing and kissing, your neck flushed with his touch and his murmured compliment. “James.” 

He tilts his head, weaving in on the other side of your neck to give it the same loving treatment. “Pretty doesn’t cover it,” he says in a rush, his teeth scratching dully up to your jaw, his kissing like nips without any pain behind them as he reaches your cheek. 

You catch his face in your hands and push him away gently. It’s so hot in here you can’t breathe, and you’re not in the mood for any further action. It’s funny. You adore his kisses and James is undeniably a good fuck, but your libido is low no matter how pretty your boyfriend is, or how pretty he finds you. You’d always wondered if that meant there was something wrong with you. 

James doesn’t seem to think so. 

“Sorry,” he says, beaming, “that’s enough, right?” 

You feel a weird sharp stab in your chest. “Sorry?” 

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” James sits up where he’d been lying on top of you, having manoeuvred such a position in the midst of all his warm kisses. He sits back on his calves, kneeling in the space between your legs, a hand falling instead to your knee. “It’s fucking hot in here, isn’t it?” 

“Sorry.” 

“Did you make it hot?” 

You look at your hand on your chest. He’s noticed you don’t want to take it any further, you hardly ever do. You knew he’d see that eventually. You have the libido of a panda, where James is an athletic young man who loves you. 

“No, I mean. I’m sorry, because I never want to when you want to.” 

Your serious tone surprises him. “Baby, what the fuck are you talking about?” he asks. “I am so lost.” 

“Just– Most of the time when you try to sleep with me I turn you down. You know already.” 

“Baby, that doesn’t matter.” He leans in again, only to hold your wrists, two big hands curled around your arms to stop your fidgeting. Two pet names in quick succession is unlike him, and it relaxes you before he’s begun to explain. “It doesn’t matter at all. Just makes it better when we do manage to want it at the same time.” 

You grimace. “Are you sure?” 

“You want me to be honest?” 

You’re not sure. “Yeah. Please be honest.” 

“Sometimes we kiss and you know I want you,” his eyes dart down, prompting a surprised laugh from you, and an easy chuckle from him in return, “and it’s frustrating, but it’s not ‘cos of you. I can go shower and sort myself out and it’s not the same as being with you, but it’s not your fault. It’s just a reaction.” 

“But I feel bad for making you deal with it yourself.” 

“What are you supposed to do? You can’t force yourself if you’re not in the mood. That’s the last thing I want you to do. I’d rather have it fall off.” 

You laugh again. James’ smile is glowing, and warm as he presses it to your wrist in a chaste kiss. “We can do other things. If you feel that badly about it, you can give me a scalp massage, please. You shouldn’t feel badly about it, but still. If you’re okay with it, I’d love one.” 

He presses his cheek to your chest in want of your hand. 

You press your fingertips to his hairline and weave your fingers into the roots of his soft hair, shaking them, nails scratching lightly at his scalp like you know he likes. “How’s that?” you ask. 

“Better than sex.” He is unmistakably sincere. 

❥ Sirius 

“Did you lock the door?” 

Sirius hums. 

“Close the kitchen window?” 

“I did,” he says, waving your hand gently where he’s holding it between you both. You lay straight in bed with the duvet up to your chests and the TV playing one of his favourite movies. 

“Okay. Did you take your medication?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart. Everything’s done. You can relax.” 

You pick your book up and open it to the first page. You’ve been meaning to read this one for a while, you’re happy to get the time, but you’re feeling queasy about something. 

Sirius is a loud guy. He loves the glitz and glamour of life, he likes to go out, play fast and hard, he’s electric most of the time. He can be quiet, too, like you tend to be, but you’re worried that you’re another night closer to him deciding he’s bored. It’s been weeks since you went anywhere, and you haven’t fucked in almost as long. 

“Can I have this?” he asks, pulling your hand to his lips. 

You smile as he kisses your knuckles, barely there presses of his lips to your skin that linger. 

“You haven’t turned a page yet.” 

“It’s hard to start,” you tell him. 

“What’s it about? Fantasy?” 

“No, just a romance, I think.” 

“I like your romances. You read the complicated ones with the good love, like ours.” 

It’s a very nice thing to say, even if you’re not sure how he knows what romance you’re reading. He enjoys listening to you talk about books when they’re done, so perhaps the details have sunk in.

You let the book flop to the side and curl up around your joined hands. “I love you,” you say. 

He curls into you in return, “You should. That was a good line,” he says teasingly. “I love you too, my girl.” He speaks it with a quiet, gentle cadence that suits him and the pet name well. “Lift your head. Wanna see you.” 

You angle your face up to give him a view of the half that isn’t hidden by the sheets. “I’m so boring.” 

“Says who?” 

“Everybody, probably. All we do is watch TV and sleep.” 

“Good thing I love both of those things.” He wraps an arm around you, palm to your shoulder. “And it’s not true. We went to the cafe yesterday after work. On the weekend, we’re going to the cinema. Why, do you want to do more?” 

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Siri. Aren’t you bored?” 

He stares at you. Long, non-judgmental looking, his dark lashes kissing in the corners as his gaze wanders down to your neck. “Is this about something else?” 

“No.” 

His mouth turns sympathetic, a wobbly frown. “Are you sure, lovely? You can talk to me.” 

You weigh each word as you say it, determined not to embarrass yourself, “I’m worried that I don’t make your life very interesting. We don’t go out much, we don’t drink, and I never…” 

You turn your face down, your forehead to his chest. Sirius hums unhappily and encourages your head back to see you again almost immediately. “You never what?” he asks. 

“Never mind.” 

“No, please. Tell me, Y/N. You can tell me anything, I won’t care.” He’s getting so serious about it and it’s making it even more embarrassing than before, but you don’t want him to worry. You spit it out. 

“I don’t put out. We hardly ever have sex.” 

“Does that upset you?” he asks. 

“Well. It upsets me if it upsets you.” 

“It doesn’t.” His hand cups your cheek, his forehead drops down to yours. “It doesn’t upset me. Did I make you think that?” 

“You’re just so cool and I’m your loser.”

He laughs happily. “You’re my loser,” he agrees. 

“The last couple of times I’ve said no. I guess I just worry you want more than I’m giving out, so. I don’t want you to wish we were having more sex, but I can’t make myself want it more.” 

“I see.” 

You listen to him breathing, the warmth of his exhale like a kiss all its own as it fans over your mouth.

He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “Can I tell you what I think?” You nod, and he continues, “I only want to have sex with you, that’s one of the consequences of being in love. It’s a good one. So if you don’t wanna have sex, it’s safe to say I don’t want to either. Okay? Love you just as much with or without it.” 

Unlike him and not to be this tender. You bite the inside of your lip.

“Promise?” you ask. 

“I promise.” 

[catiuskaa]

spots on.

SUMMARY: you. hannie. embraces. hugs. cuddles, and other synonyms. desperately needed by yesterday. complaints will be declined and ignored.

REQUESTED! by lovely annonie right here. and god you are so right, fluff + hannie is a clinical need, dare I say biblical! ㅠㅠ<3

CW: you might need a dentist appointment for this one. teeth rotting stuff. i assure you.

WC: 1.1k

A/N: so i’m back from the dead and haven’t written anything since february’s special and have been real low lately. thought fluffy hannie could cheer all of us up! <3

[☆🔹🫂🔹☆]

Han loved watching romantic movies by himself.

It’s not like he didn’t have anyone to watch them with. He had watched plenty of shows either with you or any of the boys.

But ever since he started writing and composing lyrics, a little before he got into college, there was something about those cheesy series that had him unable to stop watching.

His eyes would glow as he stared at the screen before him while he watched, invested in how the protagonist accidentally tripped and fell against the love interest, all over again. Giggling and kicking his feet when they held hands after hours upon hours straight of watching them bicker. Having his chest tightening because the actors were so good that he could almost feel the stars in his eyes, shining just for her.

Jisung loved those old-fashioned scenes. Dancing in the rain, a silly meet cute in a book shop… countless places for one silly little emotion.

Han couldn’t see it, but he also had stars in his eyes. He blinked, feeling his eyes lightly itchy, realizing he had been watching you sleep.

Not in a creepy way, of course. After all, you had wanted to stay over to finish one of the many assignments you two had to do together for some of the mandatory subjects in both of your majors. He sighed, his eyes weirdly fixated on your figure, unable to stop looking at you. Even while sleeping, there was a certain grace to you, as if you were just resting peacefully after a long day. He snorted upon realizing that your face was pressed against the pages of the book, a sneaky drop of drool coming out of your mouth. You looked so cute.

“Get a grip, Han,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head with a smile, giggling.

He rubbed his eyes, staring back to what he had been drafting the past hours. It was clearly obvious that his sleepiness was getting to him, because it was getting harder to decipher what the characters he was typing meant.

Suddenly, there was a hand lightly scratching your back.

You flinched in your place, sitting back up.

“It’s just me,” Han said softly. You blinked so slowly it almost looked like you had blinked one eyelid at a time.

“…awake. ‘M awake.” You brushed off drool from the corner of your mouth, to which Jisung chuckled lightly.

“Okay, sleepyhead. Time to go to bed.”

“Eh?”

“Bed, silly. We should have some sleep. We’re both doozing off.”

Bed? Judging by the time that the clock in Han’s apartment said, it was far from being that late, which was proved true when Hannie picked you up —God knows how, because he showed no signs of struggling— and brought the “sleepyhead” over to his room, that even after turning off the lamp on the bedside table, the windows let in light that the Sun had yet to take away while leaving space for the Moon to beam in a couple of hours.

He grunted lowly when he laid you down on the bed, which had little to do with your weight and much more with how you pulled him towards you.

“Hannie.” You mumbled sleepily.

“You’re close to cranky,” he smiled. “You haven’t had your coffee, and you fell asleep doing our assignment.” He sighed, moving stray hairs off your face, his hand lingering on its side, stroking your cheek. “Wouldn’t want to get on your cranky side.” Jisung teased with a tenderness only showed in your presence, not in his usual teasing, not with the rest of the world. Somehow, time spent with Han seemed like the world itself stopped spinning, waiting for you two and catch up later.

“…no.” You whined. His hand still rested on your face. Unusual. You didn’t want him to move it. “I don’t want to steal your bed.”

Unconciously, you moved closer to the warmth that his palm brought.

“It’s ok. You came here walking, and there’s no way I’m letting you leave now, not at this time.”

You frowned at him, almost pouting. You purposefuly resigned to argue, sleepily accepting his win over a silly discusion you could’ve won. But it was much better if it meant that he would keep being so… tender. You two were dating, yes, but it was quite strange, because even if you both knew about each other’s feelings, staying together had been more of a silent agreement.

Yet in that moment, seeing him smile, dark boba coloured eyes sheepishly and momentarily hidden by it, turning them into happy crescent-shaped moons, it was easy to figure asking was worth a shot.

“…stay w’me?”

His heart skipped more beats than he could count.

This hadn’t been planned. Well. Certainly not this way.

“Stay?” His tone of voice had lowered.

You hummed, smiling lightly. Your hand creeped up to his, the one that rested close to your face. In a sleepy move on your side, tantalizing for Jisung, your fingers tickled his skin, from his forearm to his palm, following a gentle path until your hand held his, and you pulled him towards you again, with more care this time.

Jisung could hear his mate’s low voice in his head, full with its classic australian accent.

“Ain’t no way she’s not head over heels for you too. I’d bet money on it,” Felix had chuckled, sipping the beer Han had handed him. “You guys are just blind cunts when you wanna be. Affectionately, of course,” he had added after seeing Jisung squint at him.

Han struggled to get comfortable in his now seemingly small bed. Of course it was small for two people. It had to be, because if you two were to fit in the space avaliable, it would mean that-

“…cold…”

The ruffles coming from how you then shifted on the bed were no match to how loud Han’s heartbeat sounded on his ears.

Your arm slid under his, lying limply on the curve of his waist, the other cocooned in the small space you settled in between you as you slotted your face in the crook of his neck.

thump, thump, thump.

He forced himself to relax.

“…how are you so warm, Ji?”

He had no fucking idea.

“Warm?”

You nodded, your hair tickling his face gently.

“…cozy. Like… a really cute ‘n little… weighted blanket.” You sighed, further relaxing into him, sending a chill to his spine as your warm breath brushed against his neck.

He was so fucking grateful for being so.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” He stated with a silly smile, a blush clearly obvious on his cheeks. He tackled you, and the two of you filled the room with giggles, his arms taking your body and settleing it on top of him.

You melted in his arms. “I missed you.”

He smiled, his hands playing with your hair. “I was only away for the weekend.”

“…don’t care.” His heart threatened to carve through his chest or melt when you tightened your hold on him, then tugged the blanket closer, covering you, thus covering him too.

He settled a strand of your hair behind your ear, noticing little moles in the way.

“I hadn’t noticed these ones before,” he mumbled in a soft voice that could almost lull you to sleep.

You hummed, not bothering to answer.

“I’ve heard somewhere,” he started soothingly, “that moles appear in the spots where, in your past life, you were kissed the most.”

With a sweetness that rottened your teeth, he pecked the small coloured spot in your neck. Then, he followed a short pattern, kissing the one under your ear, then another one in your shoulder, then finished off with the one in your cheek.

You smiled. “You don’t have any moles, do you?” He shook his head sideways, and you chuckled, brushing your nose with his sweetly.

“You better stay put, Ji,” you beamed cheekily. “I’ll make new moles on you.”

His chest tightened, and he beamed, chuckling as you peppered kisses all over his face.

A love scene like the movies.

His new favourite one.

[☆🔹🫂🔹☆]

catiuskaa, may 2024 ©

~Kats, who has to apologize for being dead for so long (and doesn’t quite have an excuse for it), and also has to tHANK ALL OF YOU BC WE’RE 1k FOLLOWERS IN BAKFBQIFNQKFKQK THANK YOU SO MUCH GUYS SRSLY I CAN’T EVEN BEGIN WJKFBAKF <333333

[sorrowfulrosebud]

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: in which Katsuki sees you get rid of a scrap book you planned to give him after he broke up with you

The breakup was… rough to say the least. You supposed it could have been described as a perfect mirror image to your relationship to begin with; the crushing pain of Katsuki being Katsuki.

Katsuki cracked his knuckles loudly from outside of the Heights Alliance building as he waited in the cold for you. Everyone was out doing something with the group, and Katsuki could not have been more quietly grateful. Even though he was going to rip your beating heart straight out of your body, he wanted you to maintain the dignity and pride that he had originally fallen in love with.

It wasn’t like Katsuki had woke up that morning and decided that he was going to break up with you; months of inner self-depreciation crept into his thoughts day by day, alongside the crippling realisation of his ex-victim’s strength and progress. The weight of his existence was slowly crashing around him, and he needed all of his attention for his strength.

Unfortunately, that meant cutting away dead weight.

Your happy humming could be heard as you wandered your way to your boyfriend. Your face lightened at the sight of him, before your smile drops at his scowl.

“Hi, Suki! Is everything alright?” You asked him worriedly, head tilted to the side. Katsuki’s scowl deepened, causing you to reach out to him.

“Suki please, you’re starting to worry me,” your voice rang through his ears as his hand locked around your wrist before it could reach his fluffy locks. There was a long pause as you retracted your hand, staring wildly at your boyfriend’s face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he sneered. If he was going to break your heart, he had to rip it out and shove it in the blender. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took your hand back.

“Katsuki, I-,” you were interrupted by Katsuki.

“Don’t fucking call me that either,” he grunted, shoving his hand in his pocket. Tears threatened to prick at your eyes.

“I’m breaking this thing up. It’s not worth my time at all. I’m training to be the number one hero, so I have no time to waste on other useless shit,” his gaze steeled, no ounce of insincerity to be detected. His words cut deep like a sword, your knees feeling weak as tears cling to your lashes.

“Y-you don’t mean that,” you sniffed. Katsuki let out a gruff laugh.

“Don’t I? Look, I guess it was fun when it started, but my priorities haven’t changed. You were just a distraction, something I could put my mind to. I’m not wasting any more time on you, so just leave me alone. I don’t care what you do, or who you get with. Just don’t fucking talk to me anymore, got it?”

His strength was impressive, you thought. How he could say such horrible things to you without buckling or feeling barbed wire dig into his throat. You could only stare at him with tears in your eyes, before shakily nodding. You turned at your heels and unsteadily walked off, before delving into a run back to the dorms.

Katsuki waited until you left. And he waited. And he waited. Until your sobs could no longer be heard. His body shook, before hushed hiccups and cries left his lips. His exhausted body slumped against the wall, shaky hands knuckling at his wet eyes. Well, his dirty deed was done.

Life afterwards was rough for you. After being together for 10 months, your daily routine stung in ways you didn’t know was possible. You found yourself stopping during tasks you had grown unconscious to; you had to stop texting him during the day. Even just the silly thoughts in your head couldn’t be translated in a text to him.

You could only make protein shakes for one now. Laundry loads grew lighter, snack trips became quicker and physical touch with others withdrew exponentially. For the next month, you rotted in your dorm. You ate when Mina would bring you food, her hugging you tightly and angrily grumbling about how much of a dick her friend was.

You managed to stumble to class when you didn’t oversleep the day away. Insomnia plagued you like the Black Death, tossing and turning as you tearfully mourned the relationship you lost. You arrived to class way later than your ex would, avoiding all eye contact even though you were deskmates. (You soon requested a seat change).

Aizawa had had enough when you stumbled late to his lesson for the 5th time, demanding you stay back after class. You gulped and felt your cheeks heat up, embarrassed that your teacher called you out.

The bell for the end of class sounded, bringing you out of your daze.

“(L/N), stay behind please,” came the tired drone of Mr Aizawa. Mina offered you a smile and a rub on the back as she walked off with Kirishima, throwing you a sympathetic look when she left.

Mr Aizawa cleared his throat as he signalled for you to take a seat in front of his desk. He continued marking some papers as his onyx eyes slightly looked at you.

“Your grades are slipping. You’re arriving late to class. You’re avoiding… certain classmates. If you’re struggling, I’d recommend telling me now and continuing the course. If not, pack your bags and take your grievances elsewhere. We’re training heroes, so you need to be exemplary,” he said bluntly, eyes flickering back to his paper.

You sniffled a little, rubbing your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr Aizawa. I’ll be better,” you promised dully, wiping your eyes on a tissue. His eyes looked back at you.

“I’m not an idiot. I can tell that you and Bakugou have come to some sort of disagreement. If it can get sorted, I would recommend making up as soon as possible-,” he starts.

“We broke up. He… he dumped me. He said such… horrible things to me. About me,” you whimpered, face screwed up as you clutched your uniform. Aizawa stopped writing before putting down his pen.

“I-I know I’m not exactly as composed as Todoroki, or as fast as Iida or as smart as Yaomomo, but I thought there was something about me that he liked. It just hurts how quickly he discarded me. I’m sorry for disturbing your lessons Mr Aizawa, it won’t happen again,” you quietly cried as you sunk your head in shame.

Only to lift your teary head as Mr Aizawa’s large hand encompassed your scalp. He looked at you with slight concern as you wiped your eyes.

“While it’s true that some of your classmates have advantages that you do not, a real hero doesn’t sell themselves short. Where Todoroki is composed, you’re bubbly and outgoing. Although Iida is fast, he often lacks the ability to let loose and enjoy the small things. And yes, Yaoyorozu is a prodigy student due to private schooling, but you put in the hard work and reap the rewards” his words soothed you as he softly rubbed your head.

“A real hero wouldn’t let someone who had to be chained up at the sports festival make them cry. So don’t sell yourself short. That boy has been in far too many detentions to have the nerve to point out your shortcomings,” he finished, removing his hand and gently pressing his fist into your shoulder.

“Understand me? I’ll let this incident pass if you can prove to me that you can put in the rest of the work and be a hero that everyone can put their faith in.”

The tears returned, but for a completely different reason. You quickly hugged Aizawa, his face immediately shifting into one of discomfort before gingerly patting your back. He let out his signature sly grin.

“Besides, if he tries anything, I can always say to Gang Orca that he needs more classes at the provisional licensing centre.”

You smiled at your home room teacher.

“Thank you Mr Aizawa,” you said, releasing him. He let out a small cough.

“Thank me with your actions. Tell anyone I let you hug me and it’s detention for the next month, understand?” He grilled you.

“I understand sir,” you giggled.

“Now go find Ashido, I can smell her anticipation from here,” he instructed.

“Yes sir.”

After Mr Aizawa’s curt but helpful words, you aimed on self improvement. You focused on bettering a routine, sleeping more and eating healthier. Days you would have spent rotting in bed were forced into activities with your classmates.

The breakup still stung like a knife, but it was easier to manage and slowly dwindled down to a papercut. You hadn’t talked to your ex in 2 months, only sly glances when he wasn’t looking.

Unbeknownst to you, Katsuki was absolutely miserable. Seeing you rot and struggle to cope absolutely murdered him inside knowing that he was the person who ripped your heart out, and that he couldn’t stitch it back together. He managed to keep his own composure, training even harder to avoid seeing you or bumping into you.

He nearly passed out from training, he was overworking so hard. It was his own fault, he knew that. He just couldn’t work past his issues with you there; you didn’t deserve to be at the end of his shitty stick.

The pride he felt when you started cleaning yourself up and interacting more with your classmates made his chest swell. You looked so much more beautiful and radiant; the person he fell in love with.

And dumped.

“Stupid fucking Sparky, gettin’ sick and makin’ me do his chores,” Katsuki grumbled, arms overflowing with bin bags as he stumbled to the large bins. It had been 2 months since your breakup. Or, even worse; your 1 year anniversary.

His heart was absolutely wrecked, but he could now slide quick glances to you without fear of you looking at him. He was so proud that you were able to overcome his asshole behaviour, and hopefully swallow any more feelings that you had about him. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sniffling.

He peeked his head around the corner, dropping the bin bags as quietly as he could. His eyes widened. You were stood near the incinerator, a thick book wedged in your hands.

Tears slowly trickled down your face as you looked at the book. A small smile appeared as you thumbed the cover.

“I… I thought we would have made it. I don’t know, I thought it was all going so well. I know I’ll never probably understand what was going through your head that day, but… it’s time to let go of the past,” you say quietly, rubbing your teary eyes as you open the incinerator door.

“I loved you, god fucking damnit! More than I think I could have ever loved anyone! I suppose a small part of me always will now, though. I just thought we had a better chance. Happy one year anniversary, Katsuki,” you finish as you let out a sob, throwing the book into the furnace. You ran off before checking that the book was fully inside the furnace, slamming the door and running back inside.

Katsuki waited until your steps made no noise, before running forward and pulling the book from the furnace. It was a scrapbook; the book was ridiculously chunky, with glitter glue and doodles smothering the outside, as well as stickers from your combined favourite TV shows. The furnace had charred a large chunk of the book, the smell permeating his nose.

Then he saw your names scrawled neatly in cursive. His heart started to thud as he thumbed the pages.

Polaroid photos of you on dates were plastered neatly on the pages; some photos he remembered, others he had no recollection of. Movie ticket stubs, post it notes with cute messages detailing your affections, stickers you gifted each other, silly photos from photo booths that you dragged him into.

Each page was a flash of white-hot pain. There were photos of him during a festival winning you a fish from a difficult carnival game, his eyes smoked beautifully with eyeliner as he grinned (and won the fish). He wonders if you still had it.

Another photo of his birthday party. The two of you had snuck off to your favourite spot in the woods, where he found that you had created your own picnic spot with a spread of his favourite foods. Photos of shy hand-holding, of him resting in your lap and vice versa.

Katsuki was struggling to see the paper for the tears he tried so desperately to blink away before reaching the last page. A whole page was filled with your writing, and Katsuki had to knuckle his eyes to read it.

Dearest Katsuki,

Wow, a year already! I’m so happy that we’ve come so far, my love. I’m so indebted to you for everything that you’ve done for me; helped me with training, putting up with me, hell even just being there for me.

I know I’m not exactly the easiest to get along with, I know I’m easily excitable and not exactly quiet. I love and appreciate that you can listen to me and not get bored, just as I do with you.

Training to be a hero is hard work, so I’m so thankful that you’ve chosen to take your journey with me, even though you’re training so hard to become number one.

I love you more than words can ever describe; you’re the reason I wake up everyday. I adore you, and I hope we can have many more years together kicking ass and beating Deku >o<

Lots and lots and lots of love,

Your (N/N)

Katsuki couldn’t stop the tears that trickled down his face. Reading your words of quiet insecurity, thanking him for things that he threw right back into your face like you were nothing made his heart ache so badly.

He clutched the scrapbook to his chest tightly, sending silent but desperate apologies to you as his head sunk to the floor. Guttural cries escaped him as his choices swirled through his head. The scrapbook’s cover buckled due to the force of his grip as he sobbed his heart out.

Months of self deprecation caught up to him as he craved your touch; he wanted you to hear him, to turn around and hold him tightly to your chest and never ever let go ever again. He needed your sweet affirmations as you played with his hair; “my number one hero,” you would croon as you hugged your tired boyfriend.

His stupid pride got in his way once again, and he finally came to the one conclusion he should have met those 2 fateful months ago.

He couldn’t do this without you.

The trip back to Heights Alliance was a painful one, but Mina hugged away your issues as soon as she saw your misty orbs.

“I’m so proud of you for doing this bestie. You deserve so much better. It’s time to let go of the past,” she told you softly, pink hair tickling your face. You smiled at your best friend.

“Thank you for everything Mina, I really mean it,” you sniffle, wiping your nose and taking a deep breath. You let go of your friend as you smiled at her.

“I think I’m gonna go for a nap, training was super rough today,” you told her, squeezing her hand as she squeezes back.

“Okay, let me know if you need anything. Sleep well, and I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready,” Mina promised, giving you one last hug.

You gave her a wan smile as you walked to your dorm room, throwing a pained look at your exes room. You shook your head as you unlocked the door and got changed into some comfy clothes. Tired bones sunk onto your bed as you let out a sigh.

“It’s time to let go of the past,” you murmur as you fell asleep. As soon as you were about to beat Shigaraki to a pulp, a loud knocking on your door pulled you from your dream.

The knocking was quiet at first, then grew louder, more desperate. You thought it was Mina, and that you had skipped dinner.

You let out a tired laugh, getting out of bed and redoing your hair.

“Okay, okay Mina, I’m coming-“ your voice was cut short as you opened the door, seeing a disgruntled ex staring at the floor.

Clutched tightly in his hand was the scrapbook, as you looked on in shock. How did he get it?! He wasn’t there when you- oh fuck.

Katsuki raised his head, volcanic eyes plagued with tears as he wildly searched your face. He gingerly reached for your hand before sinking to his knees, placing your hand on his face.

“P-please take me back. I know I was a dick, but I’m willing to show you all of my vulnerabilities. Please baby,” he raised his head again.

“I can’t live without you.”

[irndad]

Christmas Wrapping- a.h.

a/n: i'm back and this is sad (no, really, it's a sad christmas fic. merry crisis!! also writing this made me think of @hotchfiles lol- lari i hope u like it <3 summary: 2 years ago, hotch broke up with a lovely but eccentric woman, and is thinking about this while attending a christmas party.

It’s Christmas, and it’s New York, and Aaron doesn’t want to be here. 

He always feels guilty when he misses Christmases with Jack, and it’s painful to admit that it’s happened more than once. He’d been understanding, but Jack is almost ten now, and the resentment in his voice is subtle, but sometimes Aaron could swear he could hear Haley’s voice in it. 

This dinner wasn’t optional- a director that was above him mentioned that if he wanted his career to advance, he couldn’t afford not to attend events like tonight. Which as far as thiny veiled threats go, is one of the lease concealed ones he’s received in a good bit. 

New York always makes him think of her. Even though their relationship ended two years prior, she sticks in his mind like a song, the melody never quite getting to be grating. She’d loved being called his girlfriend, and Aaron had loved the way she loved it. She was younger than him, by a little over a half-decade. But still, she’d worn it better than he had. He still remembers the sight of her, meeting him at his office (never inside, lest the team tease him endlessly), in her green shoes and multicolored scarf, hair in a clip that had been lazily thrown up, and a smile that dazzled him. 

“Are you ready, Mr. Hotchner?” he remembers her saying, on the other side of a memory lit in warm, glowy lights. 

“I don’t think I can endorse whatever you have planned for me.” He’d replied back in jest at the time. 

The walk from his hotel to the host of the party’s home is cold. He think it might be colder in Quantico, but his memory feels colder and seeps into his bones. 

He might’ve married her, Aaron muses to himself. It all feels so silly to think about. But she was hard not to think about when she was his to ponder over, and she sticks in the back of his mind even after he had made he decision not to. 

She’d been generous with him, the entirety of it all. Gentle with him when he mentioned that he wasn’t ready to tell the team, even if she’d known that he hadn’t waited eight months with Beth. More than that, she was beautiful. not just in her appearance, which was lovely in and of itself, but in how she carried herself. Warm, and kind- Jack would’ve loved her. 

He thinks of her laugh, how she’d picked off all of the salmon roe on their fancy 5 month anniversary dinner, and eaten the meal without it- how she booked Amtraks to visit family, because it gave her more time to read on the way, and no one would make her drive once she got there. How she traced hearts into his wrist when  she could tell he was anxious, read him like a book he never gave anyone permission to see. Loving her was a pleasure, an indulgment. An expensive wine sipped with leisure. 

A honk of a cab shakes him out of his memories, but it doesn’t stick. She’d loved Brooklyn, loud cabs and overpriced brownstones all the same. Sometimes, when doing monotonous paperwork, he’d fantasize about buying her one, a new home in her dream city, Jack and maybe a sister. 

The way it had fallen apart was one of the least proud moments of his life. Because she was different- not polished, or withdrawn in how she carried herself. It was what made her a pleasure to know- she smiled with her whole face, hugged people like she knew they might need it, wore her favorite colors because she wanted to see them whenever she passed a mirror. And he was a behavior analyst. 

“Could I meet your friends?” he’d frozen, when he’d heard it. Her voice was soft, like she was nervous. “I know you were wanting to wait, but you know- you’ve met my graduate school friends. They were thoroughly impressed.”

He didn’t feel impressive to them, and he suspects she might be being kind in this moment. 

“I just think you wouldn’t like them, honey.” He feels rotten lying to her, but the idea of it- of the team knowing that she is the person he loves- it feels like a magnifying glass under the sun. 

“I find that hard to believe, Aaron. And either way, I’m telling you, it would mean the world to me to know them.” 

He’d been backed into a corner, he’ll tell himself, later. This will be a lie, and it’ll be a lie he knows, even as he tells himself it. 

“I just think we shouldn’t do that until we’re sure about eachother.”

The silence that had followed felt chasms wide. She’d been silent in front of him before- when he’d come to her apartment too tired to speak but still needing to be held, and she’d lit a candle and massaged his hands, easing the carpal tunnel from writing paperwork. Or when she held his hand waiting for Jack’s results, when he’d gotten a fever they hadn’t been able to shake. This silence was different. Long and dissapointed, and Aaron felt like he couldn’t breathe under the shame of it. He watched her wipe a single tear from her eye, and grab her novel that had been sitting on his coffee table for the last six months. 

“I can’t make you sure about me, Aaron. I don’t really want to try.” 

It had ended like that. Reminiscing on the whole affair had made the walk feel short, although he could feel a tear welling in his eyes. His body knew her absence, and still does. Even now, walking to this party he doesn’t want to go to, he imagines what it would be like to have the shape of her pressed into the side of it. 

Aaron thinks to himself, before buzzing into the building, that he wasn’t ashamed of her. He’d wondered since the end of the first relationship he’d felt held in, if he left it because he was ashamed. But he wasn’t. He was unwilling to submit to the plain, unmediated joy of her touch. 

He was almost done ruminating on this, until he knocked on the door, and there she was. 

Aaron- he almost wonders if he’s hallucinating, because there she is. And she’s fucking gorgeous. She always is, but she’s so lovely tonight. Maybe it’s the fact he hasn’t seen her in so long, or maybe it’s just that she is that lovely, but the warm light of the party and Christmas Wrapping playing in the background- she looks like vision plucked from a movie. 

She’d kissed him at midnight to this song, once. 

Now, she’s beaming at him, opening her door to welcome him as a stranger into a party. 

“Aaron! Is that you?” it’s a physiological response, the jump in his chest, when she says his name. “My god, it’s so good to see your face!” 

She hugs him, and she still wears the same perfume. Her arms are warm and her face is in his chest, and even though it’s less intimate than all the ways she’s held him before, it feels kind. 

“It’s so good to see you too- what are you doing here?”

It’s a blunt question, but she doesn’t seem to mind, as she ushers him into home. It’s a family apartment, old-school and clearly well-loved.

“My husband liasons with the FBI, actually! His boss said they needed a get-together space, and so we offered up our apartment. It’s cute, right?” she’d walked him right up to a man, wrapped her arms around his middle, before turning back to Hotch. “Peter, honey, this is my old friend, Aaron Hotchner! He works for the BAU.”

Husband. She has a husband. She is a beautiful woman, who he has had the honor to love, to run through the rain while laughing with, who is known and seen and loved by someone else. Hotch takes a look at her, really drinks in the sight. She’s got on a green sweater, new- he can tell by the shape of it. Earrings that seem like they’re gifts, and her hair’s pinned up lazily despite the occasion. 

She looks happy. 

“Oh hey! I’ve heard so much about you- I’m glad you were able to come!”

Peter has a wedding band on hsi left wrist, and Aaron can’t help but analyze him. He’s wearing an ill-fitting dress shirt and slacks, and Hotch thinks he might not have had too much choice in hosting. Owning real-estate is uncommon in New york, and your boss knowing you have a place to use might have been enough to strong arm him into using it. it’s a relative’s clothes, and it’s casual in a way that would suggest ease and friendless. An arm rests on the small of his wife’s waist. 

The whole rest of the night is a blur. Jealousy doesn’t feel like the right word for it- it feels uncanny, to see her so open and warm with a man who so unashamadly loves her. There’s engagement photos on the walls, and Aaron studies them like he’ll be tested. Maybe he’s testing himself. They’re not real photos, just a photobooth they’d gone too, her ring in the foreground of all of them. Peter is a wiry, thin, dark-haired brown-eyed man who is younger than Aaron, and a year older than her. 

He hears someone say they met in high school, and Hotch dimly wonders if he ever had a shot with her. He thinks this, while looking at a photo of the two of them at prom together (but not together). It’s self-comfort, he knows. Because she’d asked him, to take her seriously. 

She’s drinking grape juice, instead of champagne. Aaron thinks he knows why, from the way she runs a gentle hand over her stomach when she thinks no one’s looking, and how Peter’s eyes are always trained on her midsection.

He wishes he didn’t know how to be this observant. 

When the night ends, and Aaron comes back to Quantico, and people asks him how the party went, Aaron tells them it went well, and says that he saw an old friend who he’d missed a great deal out there. 

He figured it’s probably better to admit to loving her in some way, at some point. Even if it’s far, far too late. 

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Hi! so im obviously freaking out over Lewis winning his home race and i wanted to ask if you could make a one shot where y/n and lewis have been secretly together for a while but the public isn’t aware because she doesn’t really want to be in the public eye but she’s in the garage during the race and he kisses her when he wins after hugging his team

All i wanted was you

Angsty!! if y’all’s want a part two there will be one :)

If someone predicted that you’d be dating a formula one driver you’d laugh in their face and if they continued to tell you that it would be none other then Sir Lewis Hamilton you’d probably smack them in the head for being so cruel to you.

Well the funny thing is that you’d actually end up being a with a formula one driver who is none other than

Sir Lewis Hamilton.

Life had the perfect plans for you.

It was funny really how you two met.

It was a quiet night out in the outskirts of london just having been ditched from your old best friend and being forced to walk in the cold rain it’s safe to say you were not pleased in the slightest.

Feet trembling body shaking and hair wet which had you feeling like a drowned rat, you’d decided to be reckless and stupid and just walk home not knowing how it where home really was to you it seemed like the beginning of a murder mystery.

Not all hope was lost though that night way have started shitty but ended up with you finding your way to Lewis. His car had decided to make his life a little bit more difficult and had nudged you into the ground.

What started out as just making sure you were okay due to him feeling guilty ended up being a hidden relationship. your secret moments in crowded rooms they had no idea about you and him.

There was always an indentation in the shape of him, he made a mark on you a golden tattoo.

Never had you ever thought that you would have been in a hidden relationship with Lewis Hamilton.

Fate had never been on your side especially in your love life. Having endured both emotionally and physically abusive relationships you were at your wits end with men. But Lewis was different, everything he did for you was filled with so much love thought and care more than you were ever given in your life.

He knew all your favorite books he knew all your favorite movies flowers destinations.

On multiple occasions he had ended up showing up with flowers at your door simply because he wanted too. Maybe your luck truly had changed when he walked into your life.

You knew how talented Lewis was purely based on his impressive ability throughout the years. You were always yearning to see it live though.

It was a year into your hidden relationship when you had first brought up the idea of coming to a race with Lewis and he had quickly dismissed the idea saying that the fans wouldn’t be nice and he loved the little bubble the two of you were in.

You really hadn’t thought much into what he had said brushing it off as Lewis wanting to protect you more than anything.

You just booked the flight without a thought in the world simply wanting to be there and see your man in his absolute best.

It was nagging in the back of your mind as you knew Lewis wasn’t one for a public relationship but you really wanted to show the world that Lewis Hamilton had finally settled down.

In a haste decision you packed up all your bags and decided to show up at the Silverstone Grand Prix.

Just something about finally pulling this off made you feel giddy on the inside.

Silly you, little did you know that you were jumping headfirst towards the eye of the tornado brewing ahead.

Now, many would find Lewis being a level head person someone who had finally calmed down and not as fiercely competitive as they used to be. In reality he was further from that. Mercedes really were horrible this year, Lewis hadn’t won in over a year.

A win in silverstone prior to leaving Mercedes would have just been legendary. Out of a fairy tale.

Things were not looking too good and that must have played heavily into Lewis’s mind and made him react the way he did when he saw you all smiles and giggles hands over his eyes waiting for him in his drivers room.

Any normal person would have been surprised and thrilled to see what they called their love of their life wanting for them in their room.

No one honestly knew what snapped in Lewis.

It was the added pressure of seeing his favorite person seeing him fail.

Lewis had a routine. Horrible race - Interviews- Anger- Meditation- Your time.

But you showing up had ruined that routine and had lead to Lewis’s snapping.

When you first saw his blank face you just thought that he was taking time to register the fact that you were right there with him. it wasn’t.

Something blazed in his eyes and it wasn’t love or the dark desire he normally had.

It was anger.

He’d snapped at you harsh and cruel.

Lewis muttered words that he would have never dreamed of saying to you.

Something along the lines of

“you know I am under immense pressure ”

“why couldn’t you have just listened to me and stay put. ”

“This is fucking stupid why are you so inconsiderate.”

“I already have enough to deal with I can’t be there to coddle you when the fans get to you y/n.”

“so fucking sensitive why are you crying now?”

“I can’t deal with you being here let alone the media seeing you? I didn’t need you here to ruin everything”

“it’s my home Grand Prix I need to focus on the fans and not you”

Those words broke the already broken parts of you. He didn’t recognize how shattered you looked. All he registered was that you had gone against his word and had showed up. He hurt you even when he told you no he begged you he wouldn’t.

That’s how he had left you alone in his drivers room hurt and embarrassed the mechanics had picked up on the tension in his room and had just given you a sad smile offering to take you back to your hotel room so that you could have some time off.

Now on Lewis’s side this anger and storm he had just started would force him to drive the best race of his life almost for redemption of his poor behavior.

[egcdeath]

how the cookie crumbles

summary: when you come back home to austin to help your sister with her bakery, you end up in an arrangement with your high school crush that ends up being far more than you bargained for. 

word count: 11.5k

warnings: FAKE DATING, au: no outbreak, pining. so much pining and a touch of yearning, idiots to lovers, high school crushes to lovers, very hallmark-romcom esque, fluff, a touch of angst, more fluff, the reader has a sister but the sister doesn’t have a name, joel’s ex is kinda rude, alcohol consumption, cuddling, miscommunication kinda, unrequited love that’s actually requited love, no use of y/n, not beta read.

author’s note: this is my first fic back after taking my several month long break!! i want to give a big shoutout to my texas consultant and biggest cheerleader @cowgurrrl, who encouraged me to write, gave me helpful ideas, and let me dump my brain and my silly little ideas on her whenever <3

For as long as you could remember, you and your sister had been total opposites. As girls, your sister spent her time playing with dolls, experimenting with whatever new hairstyle on your scalp, and eagerly shadowing your mother in the kitchen, while you preferred to spend your time exploring the city on your bike, reading books in your hammock, and doodling whatever had caught your interest in your hourly. As you entered young adulthood, you were unsurprised as your sister married her high school sweetheart just months after graduating college before setting off to start her own business in Austin, while you moved as far as you could out of Texas and began a prosperous career in New York City. 

Regardless of the different paths your lives had taken, the minute your sister had even suggested that she might’ve needed help at her bakery, you were booking a flight back home. The holidays were a notoriously busy time for her business, with people wanting cakes and pies to display as their own labors of love at their family gatherings, or to have their children wake up to a dozen expertly decorated cookies under the guise that that was what their Elf on the Shelf had been up to that night. 

Given that you had no holiday plans other than drinking Bailey’s-spiked hot chocolate and watching reruns of your favorite season of The Bachelor, it seemed like a no-brainer to come back to Austin. Part of you was excited for your homecoming, to return to the vibrant personality of the city that was a far cry from the east coast city you’d grown to know and love over the years. The other part of you dreaded your return, not feeling particularly excited to have to run into peers from your adolescence while you were trying to peruse the shelves of your local Costco. 

You were welcomed with warm arms the moment that you walked through the door of your sister’s home—metaphorically and literally. She practically hugged you the entire way as you dropped your items off in her guest bedroom, then even more so as she directed you to her car, giving you all sorts of updates about your parents and her husband, but not allowing you to forget the whole reason that you’d come home in the first place. 

“You’re not hungry or anything, right?” she asked as she hopped into the driver's seat next to you. 

“I think I’m good. I ate at the airport,” you replied, slightly amused by your sister’s eagerness to get you to work immediately. Then again, you couldn’t exactly blame her when you thought about how busy she must’ve been. 

“Good! I’m gonna put you right to work then. How does frosting cupcakes sound?”

It sounded fine, and it was fine for the first few hours, until the angle of the piping bag started to make the newfound cramping in your hands unbearable, and your sister had to give you an impromptu tutorial on how not to make your rosettes look so… depressing. 

“Look, the Girl Scouts need this order in like, an hour, and my cashier is going home in a bit. Give yourself a little break to shake your hand out, or pee, or do whatever it is you have to do, then you can ring customers up. How does that sound?” she finally huffed, clearly just as frustrated with you for your inability to do a task that was practically second nature to her.

“Anything’s better than frosting these damn cupcakes,” you commented as you tossed your gloves into the trash. “If I never have to frost a cupcake again, it’ll be too soon.”

“I love you, which is why I have to tell you that you will be frosting so many more cupcakes in the next few days,” she laughed aloud, looking down at the army of baked goods in front of her that she was still working on meticulously frosting. “But you’ll get used to it. I’ll have Ben give you better instructions. He’s really good at this, for some reason. I’m convinced it’s because he went to art school.”

You groaned dramatically as you exited the kitchen, only to bother your sister if nothing else. After all, wasn’t it your job as a younger sibling to annoy your older sibling?

As much as you enjoyed doing random tasks that your sister needed done in the back, working in the front was definitely one of the better aspects of working at the bakery. There was far less technique involved in doing anything, and when there was downtime in the storefront, you got to passively scroll on social media, turning your brightness down so you could secretly cyberstalk people from your high school in peace. 

Being that you were distracted by the phone in your hand, you paid no mind to the shrill sound of the door’s bell as it opened. As you finished up looking at someone’s engagement pictures, you glanced up once before doing a complete double take.

“Hey, I’m just here to pick up the Girl Scout order-”

There was no way. 

You hadn’t seen that face in years. Hell, you hadn’t thought about that face in years, despite your mild obsession with him as a teenager. 

Joel had been the definition of so close, yet so far. You seemed to always be in his orbit, butterflies in your stomach every time he leaned over his desk to ask you a question about the material or to poke fun at one of the weirder quirks your teacher had. Yet, just as you’d finally worked up the nerve to confess your feelings to him, word got around the school that he was becoming a father. After many pints of ice cream and late nights of your older sister comforting an inconsolable teenage you, you’d finally gotten over the man, letting his memory become a funny anecdote you shared to friends to display your terrible luck in love. 

As much as you hated to admit it, he looked good. Obviously, he was much older now, but much to your dismay, he’d aged more like wine than like milk. Donning a new beard that somehow managed to make him even more handsome and biceps that strained against the sleeves of his shirt, he looked far more attractive than you could ever even remember him, his mature look a good one.  You were sure his wife loved looking at that striking face in the morning, before she set off to take care of their adorable young daughter. Their perfect little family, still holding up despite the test of time.

You had gotten so caught up in your thoughts, you’d barely registered the fact that Joel had said your name in a tone that held a mixture of excitement and disbelief. 

“I haven’t seen you in years! Since high school?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer. The surprise of seeing him, let alone seeing him looking so good led you to smile dumbly and shrug. “Wow!” he remarked.

“It has been a really long time,” you grinned involuntarily, practically feeling yourself revert back to your younger, immature self simply at the sight of the man standing across from you. “How are you? How’s the family?”

“We’re good. Sarah’s turning 13 soon, which is really exciting,” Joel explained, setting a hand on his hip as he did so. You swore you could see the fondness for his daughter as he spoke. “It feels like just yesterday I was feeding her bottles and carrying her around in a sling.”

“I know, they just grow up so fast,” you agreed, as if you’d had any sort of experience in the field. The fact that Joel still had this effect on you, one that made you want to follow him around like a lost puppy and agree with every word that came out of his mouth was mildly concerning to you—particularly because he clearly had a wife and a child. 

“They really do. You have any of your own?” Joel asked, looking deep into your eyes and making you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Me? No,” you dismissed before following it up with,. “I’ve been pretty focused on my career, so it’s not exactly the best time for a family. To be quite honest, I think my cats do the trick plenty well.”

“You’re still so responsible,” Joel complimented, stirring something up deep inside of you that you promptly wanted to push right back down. “Clearly, I didn’t do any family planning. I’d say it worked out pretty well, if you don’t count having to get divorced just a few years after getting married.”

This piqued your interest. You could almost feel the teenage version of yourself cheering internally at the news that Joel and the mother of his child had split. She’d always been a bit of a bitch to you, so to hear that the two of them had split had sounded like music to your ears.

“Man, that’s too bad. I always thought you two would be the one couple from our school to make it,” you lied through your teeth, hoping that your entertainment wasn’t too obvious.

Joel chuckled and shook his head, smile lines appearing seemingly out of thin air, and unfortunately making you melt on the inside, just the slightest bit. 

“That’s really too bad. I mean, what happened with you guys? If you don’t mind me asking,” you were definitely taking a risk with this question, but you were hoping that the reward of the answer would be worth every bit of boldness you put together to ask. 

“We just had… different ideas for our futures,” Joel explained what you could only assume was a very condensed version of what had actually occurred. “You know, she’s actually in town right now.”

“I hadn’t realized she’d left town. Should we keep our voices down then?” you asked jokingly, although it would be quite awkward if his ex wife walked in while the two of you were talking about her. 

“No, we’re good,” Joel chuckled. “Sarah really wanted to see her for the holidays, and it wasn’t like I could say no to that request. Although, getting Naomi to actually come was a bit like pulling teeth. I’m sorry, this is way too much information. What about you? Any special people in your life?”

“No, Joel, you’re all good. You know how much of a gossip I was,” you offered him a genuine smile. “Unfortunately, no. Funnily enough, the thing I was dreading most about coming home is having my mom constantly on my ass about bringing home a good man.”

“I get it. It’s exhausting seeing all the PDA whenever Naomi and Henry come back. It’s like they’re rubbing in that we’re so happy together and you’re still all alone.”

“Assholes,” you remarked, rolling your eyes to show Joel just how on his side you were. “I’m sure you’ll find someone someday. I mean, both of us will. Then maybe my mom will stop bothering me and your ex will finally stop acting all high and mighty for being in a relationship.”

“I can only hope,” Joel sighed. “Well, I apologize for dumping all of my holiday woes on you when I really should just be picking up some cupcakes.”

“Oh no, I apologize for holding you up. I’ll go grab that order for you,” you said before walking off to the back, where your sister had just finished putting the final touches on the order. 

“Perfect timing,” she remarked, stepping back and running her arm against her slightly damp forehead. “Who were you talking to back there?” 

“Oh, no one,” you dismissed, not ready to hear her reaction. “Just giving good customer service.”

The look she gave you told you loud and clear that she didn’t believe you, but it would be a conversation for another time. Since she didn’t seem interested in pressing, you took it as your opportunity to grab the large, pink box, and bring it out to Joel.

“Here’s that order for you,” you said politely. “It was good seeing you today.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, happily taking the slightly heavy box when you offered it to him. “How long will you be in town?”

“Into the New Year, I think? Maybe earlier, maybe later,” you shrugged. 

“We should get together sometime. Maybe get a coffee or something and properly catch up? I would love for you to meet Sarah, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned, begging yourself not to revert back to your younger, naive self, but not exactly being able to fight it at the same time. “Well, if you ever need me, I’ll probably be here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he headed to the door. “See ya!”

As soon as the door jingled, announcing Joel’s departure, you let out a deep breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. 

Fuck. You could not be feeling this way about a man you had a crush on in high school.

-

Your sister always seemed to have a sixth sense for when you were getting antsy, so one evening as the two of you worked on closing the storefront, she pulled you from the monotony of sweeping the floors while listening to the sound of her new favorite pop artist to send you to the grocery store and retrieve a few items that she needed more of. 

With her company card safely secured in your wallet, a short list scribbled out on a pink post-it note, and your hands closely grasping the handlebars of the cart, you amaturely navigated the grocery store, unfamiliar with the locations of the items that lined the shelves after years of not visiting Austin.

The evening in the grocery store brought you a sense of serenity, with the rush of urgent people looking to pick up the one ingredient they forgot for dinner mostly gone. After packing your cart full of sticks of butter and bags of sugar, you headed off to the get your final item, relieved to have had a mostly successful trip without running into anyone you knew in your youth. 

But just as you had this thought, you caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of your eye. Dark hair and beard imprinted in your mind after your brief interaction with him just one day ago. You did your absolute best to pretend you didn’t see him as you inspected a bag of flour, keeping your head lowered, and gaze averted. Yet, your efforts were futile, as just moments later, you heard your name called aloud as the man approached you. 

“Hey!” he said cheerily, blissfully unaware that you were attempting to use the ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ method on him just moments ago. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s been like forever,” you added on, looking into his eyes and almost immediately regretting your decision as your gut was immediately consumed with a swarm of rabid butterflies. “What’re you doing here?”

“Grabbing some groceries,” he answered sweetly, despite that being the obvious answer to your not-so-great question. 

Duh. What else did people come to the grocery store for? What a stupid question. See? Joel just made you so… stupid! Even after all of the years you’d spent apart. 

“Sarah wanted to try making some Christmas cookies to bring to her mom, so…” he trailed off, gesturing down at the flour that was now in his hand. “Got any tips on the best flour to get?”

“That’s definitely more of my sister’s wheelhouse. I just do whatever she needs me to do, like go and get,” you glanced down at your list before continuing for comedic effect, “White miso paste.”

Joel smiled fondly at your joke, only making your insides melt further. 

“Remind me to stop by and try whatever has that white miso paste in it. Sounds interesting,” Joel grabbed a package of all-purpose flour and tossed it into his cart, before leaning on his cart. 

Fuck. Why did he have to be so endearing, with his smile lines and his kind eyes, and his insistence on treating you like you were the only other woman in the world, despite the other woman customer just standing feet away from you two.

“I definitely will. Has your number changed in the past thirteen years?” you asked, not sure what had gotten into you with the slightly flirty move. 

He shook his head, his eye briefly catching on something and causing him to pause in his movements before he returned to the conversation, now looking slightly off in a way that he hadn’t looked just a moment ago. You were so stupid. Of course you trying to flirt back would’ve backfired. You needed to excuse yourself before you managed to embarrass yourself any more than you already had. 

“It has not,” he confirmed, smiling at you once more, but not looking like his heart was completely into it. “Any chance you’re checking out?” 

“I am!” you said a little too enthusiastically, which Joel responded to by somewhat urgently beginning to walk to the check-out lane. Given that he hadn’t told you goodbye, you followed him like the lost puppy that you were around him. 

Just as the two of you stopped in line and had mostly finished checking out, Joel finally seemed to unclench from whatever he’d seen (or whatever you’d said) that had bothered him before. Yet, as soon as it was over, you noticed that same tension washed over him once more. 

“Oh, Naomi. Henry,” Joel said, his tone taking a complete 180 from what he had just had with you moments ago, and his change in demeanor suddenly made sense to you. “Didn’t realize you two were in town yet.”

You glanced over to the woman who had seemingly appeared out of thin air to ruin your moment with Joel, just like she had done in high school a million times over. Who you hadn’t recognized was the man next to her, looking a little too put together for someone who had likely just gotten off a flight and was headed to the grocery store.

“Joel,” she said artificially sweetly, the one singular word drenched in annoyance. “We just got in. We’re grabbing groceries for the hotel.”

“I didn’t realize chocolate chips were groceries,” Joel muttered to himself as he evaluated their basket. You were slightly surprised by the sass he had seemed to equip out of nowhere, a far cry from the southern charm he had displayed with you in your past interactions. You desperately wanted to leave the situation, which was clearly none of your business.

“Surely, you remember your ex-wife having a sweet tooth,” the man on her side replied defensively, wrapping an arm around her protectively. 

“Something like that,” he replied, glancing over at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite read. 

With tensions boiling over with just a few words stated, you finally decided to step in, impulse and instinct guiding you. 

“Hey honey, I think we need to get going,” you said, internally cringing as the words left your mouth. Joel’s now wide eyes made contact with your unsure ones and your furrowed brows as you attempted to tell him to just go with it without a single word. 

The good thing for you was that Joel was a quick learner, and his hand quickly found the small of your back. Something in Naomi’s expression changed, just for a moment, before she went back to her stone cold facade. You hoped that Joel caught it, the same way that you did. 

“Yeah, we don’t want to keep you too long, since we’ll be seeing you plenty this holiday season,” Naomi replied, flashing you a fake smile. “I didn’t realize you two were together. I’ve never heard Joel say anything about you.”

You were sure the sentiment was supposed to hurt your feelings, but you were more unsurprised by the sentiment than anything else. 

“Some of us like to leave our personal lives personal,” he shot back, glancing at you before bringing his glare back to his ex-wife. 

“Well, that’s cute. I remember, you had the biggest crush on Joel back in the day. Glad you two ended up together,” she laughed and your stomach dropped. Were you that obvious in the past? “Anyway, we’re gonna go to a less busy lane. See you at dinner, Joel. And maybe you, too?” She looked you up and down, and for a second you felt like you were in the hallways of your high school once again, trying your best to avoid the passive aggression of a particularly mean girl. 

“Right. Bye,” he said simply, watching the pair walk away as if he were scared that they would turn back around at some point and bother Joel some more. 

“Fuck,” he muttered aloud as soon as they were out of earshot, his hand falling away from your back and back to his side.  

You immediately launched yourself into a rambling apology, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep or anything, they just looked like they wanted to eat you alive and-“

“No, no, don’t apologize. I appreciate what you did back here. I mean, you saw the look on her face when she thought we were together?”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed out, which also acted as a cover for the deep sigh of relief you needed to let out. “Is she always so shocked when she thinks you’re dating someone new?”

“Well, I haven’t dated much since the divorce,” he explained as the two of you began exiting the building. “So I guess I didn’t really know what to expect. But it totally delivered.”

You couldn’t help but smile as the two of you walked out to your cars together and Joel confessed that not only was he single, but that he hadn’t really seen anyone. Not that it really mattered to you, considering that the two of you had absolutely no shot together. 

You weren’t exactly sure where Joel had parked, but he’d offered to help unload your groceries into your car, and you weren’t exactly going to decline that offer. 

“Thank you, again for helping me out tonight,” Joel said as he helped place bags in the trunk of the car. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Actually, there is one thing.” 

— 

Every year, you absolutely dreaded your family’s holiday celebrations. Specifically, the celebrations where you showed up without a date, and had to spend the night downing eggnog to drown out the sound of your family asking you when you were going to settle down and bring a grandchild, or niece, or nephew into the family. 

But this year, you didn’t have to worry about that issue. After running into Joel at the grocery store and briefly pretending to be his partner, he’d agreed to do the same for you at a family holiday party, and to be completely honest, you couldn’t be more excited. 

“Again, thank you,” you said to Joel as he opened the passenger door to his truck for you, politely standing at the side of it as you got in. 

“It was really the least I could do after you saved my ass back there in the store,” he dismissed, closing the door behind you before getting back into the car. 

“I mean, I couldn’t just stand there and let you suffer,” you explained, glancing over at the man as he settled into the seat and started the car. He’d certainly dressed up more than usual for the event, a nice red sweater nicely complimenting your green sweater, and his hair styled nicely. For a second, you thought about your younger self, and how she probably would’ve given anything for a night like this—to just play pretend with Joel just for a moment, since he clearly didn’t see you the way you saw him. 

“Well, I appreciate it,” he dismissed, sending you a quick, charming smile before beginning to pull out of the driveway. “Anything I need to know about your family?”

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “Where do I start?”

You more or less talked Joel’s ear off on the drive over, filling him in on family members to avoid; overbearing aunts who would attempt to examine him like a lab specimen, uncles who would try to quiz him on his knowledge of local sports teams, and the occasional family friend, who seemed to be just as crazy as your actual kin. Joel listened politely, taking in all of the information, and throwing in some commentary every now and then, but surely making mental notes on who to try to avoid. 

Once you finally arrived at the car-lined street, Joel once again opened the door for you like the gentleman he was, before allowing you to lead the way to the christmas-light adorned house that was clearly bustling on the inside. As the two of you walked up to the porch, Joel looked at you rather earnestly. 

“Did I scare you in the car? I promise they’re not all that bad,” you began to attempt to explain, nerves bubbling in your stomach as you thought about how Joel surely wanted to go home. 

“No, no, you didn’t scare me,” he assured you, reaching over to brush a stray hair out of your face. “I just… I never got the chance to tell you how good you look. I wanted to say something when you first got in my car, but I guess I got scared. You always look good, but you kinda took my breath away.”

Fuck, you internally groaned. Why did he have to tell you that? Was he just trying to get into character or something? You couldn’t even gather the words for how it made you feel before the front door was swinging open with one of your favorite aunts at the door greeting you. 

“Hello, my love!” she practically squealed as she pulled you into a hug. “And who is this?”

“This is my boyfriend, Joel,” you introduced, only slightly alarmed at how easily the word rolled off your tongue.

“Hello, ma’am,” Joel said warmly, setting out a hand for her to shake, which was rejected in favor of a hug. He was clearly a bit caught off guard by it, but also clearly a little into it. 

“Sorry,” you whispered to him once she let go and the two of you were ushered inside. “We’re a hug family. I probably should’ve warned you about that on the ride over.”

“I don’t mind, I promise,” he assured you, gently grabbing your hand and looking to you for some sort of assurance. You smiled at him then subtly nodded, lacing your fingers in between his in an act that you hoped would be as practical as it was performative.

As the two of you navigated through the house, you made pleasant small talk with all who you encountered, with you proudly introducing Joel as your boyfriend, and him taking the lead in introducing himself from time to time. After an exhausting hello tour, you had finally made it to the kitchen for drinks, something you’d surely need if you were going to keep up at this rate of socialization. 

As you grabbed Joel the beer he’d requested and began to spoon out ladles of the bowl that was tape-labeled ‘ADULT Punch’ into your own cup, you were slightly surprised that you’d finally ran into your mother. 

“Hi honey,” she squealed, pulling you into a hug. “How long have you been here? You avoiding me?”

While past experiences of being single during the holiday season and having to interact with your mother often ended up with you suffering for the entirety of the night–or an entire week, like the time she tried to set you up with a coworker’s son–you felt a newfound confidence with the knowledge that Joel was just a few feet away from you, diligently playing the perfect boyfriend.

“We just got here,” you giggled at her typical overbearing self. For once, your guard was down, knowing that she would not be attempting to set you up with anyone, or hounding you about coming home and settling down with a nice local. 

“We?” she asked dramatically, brows raised in surprise. “Is your sister somewhere around here, or something?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” you feigned offense as she stepped back to look at the two drinks in your hands. “I brought my boyfriend,” you glanced back at Joel, who was right where you left him, making enthusiastic smalltalk with one of your cousins about the Cowboys game. Like a good little fake boyfriend, upon catching your eye he excused himself from his conversation and walked over to you and your mother.

“Mom, this is Joel, my partner,” you explained, as your gentlemanly fake boyfriend grabbed your mother’s hand and gave it a polite kiss. You certainly hadn’t forgotten about his charm back in the day, but to watch it up close and personal after so much time had passed was undoubtedly having a bit of an effect on you. 

“I’ve heard all about you. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he gushed. You had to give credit where credit was due, Joel was a great actor. You’d given him a bit of backstory on your mom on the ride over to the house, and you’d certainly discussed her while the two of you were students, but definitely not to the extent that he was playing up.

“So nice to meet you,” she replied, her cheeks warming at her interactions with the man. Joel was laying it on thick, but it seemed to be working for her. “Miller, right?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed, flashing a pearly white smile at your mother. As you watched the interaction, you were doing your best to keep it together, partially wanting to laugh out loud at Joel’s overdramatic chivalrous act, and partially wanting to melt into a puddle over just how alluring he was.

“Then I’ve also heard a lot about you. My daughter had the biggest crush on you in high school! It’s so funny that you’ve ended up together now. I suppose God’s timing is always right?”

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth gaped open for a second as your mother reinforced your little secret that Joel had heard from someone else just a few days ago. Suddenly, you were feeling a lot less like a liquidy puddle, and more like the bark of a firm tree–if that tree could experience mortification. If you didn’t need it before, now you really needed that drink. He glanced at you and smiled cheekily before looking back at your mother. 

“So I’ve heard,” he said with a smirk, clearly biting back a laugh. You were going to kill your mother. And maybe Naomi too, while you were at it. In fact, you might just add yourself into the mix. It certainly couldn’t hurt. Or at least, it would hurt less than the discomfiture of your fake boyfriend hearing from everyone about the huge crush you had on him. 

“Mom! I think your other daughter just got here. Why don’t you go say hi to her and Ben?” you suggested, knowing that the best way to prevent her from embarrassing you any further was to distract her with the idea of embarrassing her other child in front of her significant other.  

You clearly knew your mother well, because the strategy worked well enough to get her off your tail. You passed Joel his beer as he watched you closely, the same mischievous smirk lingering on his face long after your mother had left. 

“Crush, huh?” he teased you, causing you to shake your head as you took a healthy sip from a deceptively strong punch. 

“Shut up,” you groaned. “Please.”

As the night went on, you realized that you couldn’t have picked a better candidate to pretend to be your boyfriend at a family gathering. Joel was quite sociable and polite, even more so with a beer in his system. He didn’t even mind entertaining your family members on his own as you went off and caught up with the few members of your family that you could tolerate for more than a few minutes at a time.

Following a rather chaotic series of discussions including when you and Joel were getting engaged (never, I mean, in the next few years. Probably.), the most romantic thing you’d done (backpacking through Europe, according to Joel), and what it was like reconnecting with your high school crush (fucking fantastic), you’d finally lost track of Joel. You did a quick lap around the house before bumping into your sister and cousin, the latter of which desperately described her need for air. 

The three of you huddled together outside on the deck, the spot where you seemed to find yourselves at almost every family function regardless of how fun or stressful it ended up being. While you were enjoying the mayhem of the party and enjoying your time with Joel even more, it was nice to have a little break from it all. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been home for just a few days and you’ve already gotten your childhood crush wrapped around your finger,” your sister laughed, comfortably leaning against the railing of the deck.

“That’s the power of working for a Fortune 500. All of the men in your hometown just want a sugar mommy for a little bit. Get some presents for the kids and wife for free,” you joked. 

“You’re kidding?” your cousin asked, her brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and intrigue. 

“I’m kidding,” you confirmed. “You know, we aren’t even actually dating,” you confessed, lips and tongue loose from your second glass of punch. 

“What?” your cousin and sister exclaimed at the same time, the two of them suddenly very alert.

Even in your not-completely-there state of mind, you could tell that you had made a mistake telling your secret. It was now very likely that the entire house would know the truth within the next hour, or that you would not be hearing the end of how terrible an idea the whole ordeal was for months on end. 

“I figured you two just hit it off, or had some long distance thing going on?” your sister questioned, peering at you curiously as if your face would reveal some sort of information about your arrangement.

“Nope. It’s kinda a long story, but I guess the short of it all is that we’re pretending to be together for the holidays so certain people get off our asses,” you said casually, finishing off your drink and looking out into the backyard rather than making eye contact with either of your kin. 

“Fair enough,” your cousin sighed, finally relaxing once more. “If I wasn’t already seeing Will, I’d probably do the same.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? He really broke your heart,” your sister asked, grabbing your arm to attempt to force you to look at her, and staring at you with concern. 

You were sure you could imagine what was going through her head in the moment, the vision of your heartbroken teenage self and the sound of your prolonged sobs as you questioned what your crush saw in her that he couldn’t see in you.  You really couldn’t blame her for being worried. She was your older sister, after all, the task of protecting you instilled in her from the day you left the womb, and clearly not gone now. But things were different now. You were all adults, you had more life experience and perspective, and most importantly, whatever was going on between you and Joel wasn’t real, regardless of how much you might have wanted it to be.

“Yeah, when we were eighteen. I think it’ll be fine,” you dismissed, as if anything was ever that simple. 

“And he seems like a sweetie now. I think my own parents were wishing I brought him home for the holidays,” your cousin, ever the peacekeeper, added as she attempted to diffuse the quickly escalating tension between you and your sibling. 

“He was also a sweetie thirteen years ago when he led you on, then got someone pregnant,” your sister snapped back with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her back to you. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” you declared, watching your breath float away in a cold puff of air. “Can we go inside now? I think my toes are gonna fall off.”

After a side eye from your sister and a nod of agreement from your cousin, the three of you headed back inside, where you made quick work of grabbing yet another drink and finding the fireplace.

A few couches were arranged by the fireplace, some filled from edge to edge with sleeping, snuggling children who were exhausted by the excitement of a holiday party, others with some of the older members of your family who simply needed a break from it all. Among them all, you were surprised to find Joel, enthusiastically talking to none other than your father. 

Your father was probably one of the most difficult people in your life to impress. He’d maybe told you that he was proud of you a total of five times in your life. Yet, he looked content, hell, happy as he spoke to your fake boyfriend. 

Part of you felt bad as you found your way to the empty spot on the couch next to Joel, but you were cold, and you weren’t going to pass up on the opportunity to warm up by the fire and the man that you had found was a bit of a human furnace. 

When Joel caught sight of you, he smiled and beckoned you over, and you made quick work of maneuvering yourself past the coffee table between the couch. Once you sat down, Joel surprised you by greeting you with a gentle peck on the lips. The action temporarily shocked you, and you desperately hoped that the feeling was not reflected on your face. The naturalness of it all almost felt as if you’d done it a thousand times, and you tried your best to suppress the part of you that wanted to do it a thousand more. 

“Hi honey,” Joel greeted you sweetly, his hand almost immediately finding yours. It all felt so right, and if you weren’t so endeared by him in the moment, you certainly would’ve been mildly panicking. 

“It was nice meeting you, Joel, but I’m old and I’m tired, so I’m gonna head out,” your father explained, giving you a half nod as he began to stand up. 

“Bye, dad. I’ll see you on Christmas?” you asked him, ignoring the panicked look that Joel was certainly sending your way. 

“Sounds like a plan. Love you. Get home safe,” he bid the two of you farewell before leaving without much other fanfare.

“Why didn’t you tell me that was your dad?” Joel asked you, looking at you with wide eyes. You laughed a little bit at his panic, finding the dumbfounded look on his face more adorable than you’d like to admit. 

“Thought it might’ve come up in conversation, or something,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day, mixed with the criminally strong punch set in. “Why do you care so much? Trying to make a good impression, Miller?” you teased. 

“You’re the worst,” he groaned, then laughed as you snuggled up to his side. You weren’t exactly sure whether the laugh was coming from discomfort or relief, but with the bone-deep cold you were feeling and alcohol in your system, you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to care. “You’re also really cold. Are you okay?”

“Mmm, you’re really warm,” you replied, settling against his warm body unconsciously.

“Someone’s feeling the punch,” he replied, wrapping an arm around you as you closed your eyes. 

“It was way stronger than it needed to be,” you agreed in a murmur against his sweater. “Thank you for being such a good fake boyfriend tonight.”

“It was actually pretty fun. I like your family a lot,” he confessed, trying his best to maintain eye contact with you despite the fact that you were in the express lane to dreamland and your blinks were beginning to turn into miniature naps.

“Everyone liked you too. I owe you,” you yawned, dropping your head from the soft fabric of his sweater to the denim of his jeans.

“Mhm. Wanna head home?” he asked.

“How’d you know?” you responded as Joel chuckled above you. 

The ride back home was a mostly quiet one, with Christmas music playing softly on the radio and you dozing off in the passenger seat. Every now and then Joel glanced over at you, and the few times that your eyes were actually open, you wondered what it was that he was thinking. Was he checking up on you to make sure you were still alive? Probably. But you just swore there was something else in his eyes, something you’d seen when Ben looked at your sister, or when your parents looked at each other. 

But that was probably just the exhaustion speaking. 

Once you arrived at your sister’s place, Joel made quick work of helping you get inside safely, even helping you get to bed at your own insistence. Even in your not sober and exhausted state, you knew that you didn’t want the night to end. Even in your less than ideal state of mind, you knew that the way you were feeling about Joel was unsustainable. 

—

The soft, dim lighting of a restaurant that felt fancy even for you seemed to beam down on you, encouraging little beads of sweat to collect at your forehead and the creases of your arms. As much as you were desperately trying to maintain the appearance of being cool and collected, your staccato breaths, wobbly smile, and the rapidly appearing perspiration were quite clearly selling you out. You couldn’t help but to stare down at your menu like it was the most interesting thing in the world, the intimidation of sitting across from your fake partner’s ex-wife’s heated glare far more intense than what you’d expected. Far worse than sharing a brief, yet artificial moment of PDA in a grocery store, and far more than you expected to be able to handle. Yet, Joel had done the same for you, and really, it was only fair that you would do the same. 

After the Christmas party, you hadn’t really expected to hear anything else from your date. As far as you knew, Joel had only agreed to play pretend with you for one night, and as fun as that night was, it was all fake. 

As much as you hated to admit it, your sister was maybe, just a little bit right about the whole ordeal not being your best idea. You couldn’t help but think about the two of you at the party—how he’d held your hand like your hands were two pieces of a puzzle that were made for each other, how he cuddled with you on the couch and looked at you with such genuine concern when he thought you might not be well, but above all, you were stuck on his confession to you, about how beautiful you looked and how scared he was to tell you. 

You couldn’t believe that you were still making these kinds of stupid decisions, the type of decisions that made you want to lay in bed all day with a pint of ice cream and a soap opera playing on the revision, and not do work—the very work that you came back to Austin to do. 

But despite your urge to shut down, you tried your absolute best to do what you set out to do. You spent hours tossing ingredients in mixers, whipping egg whites into stiff peaks, and narrowly avoiding burning yourself as you took trays out of the oven. Only at the end of the day, as you wiped your forehead with a flour-covered arm and checked your phone did you realize that you’d missed a call from Joel. 

After a quick call-back and an explanation to your sister that you would no longer be third wheeling the night’s tree-lighting ceremony with her, you had somehow managed to renew your little agreement with Joel. Your task being a performance of being the perfect, dream girlfriend to Joel Miller, a task that you hoped you would be up for.

But as you sat at the table next to Joel, nearly sweating your mascara off, you began to question the extent of your capabilities within this particular role. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Naomi began, the sharp wing of her eyeliner and the depths of her eyes feeling like they were poking and prodding into you, searching for any weakness or insecurity to be exploited. “What are you up to these days?”

“Well, apart from making the most of my time with Joel,” you looked over at him with what you hoped appeared to be adoration, but probably came across more accurately as the fear you were experiencing, and grabbed his bicep–what you hoped to appear like a fond move, but was something more like you bracing onto him for dear life. “I’m a consultant in New York City. It definitely takes up a lot of my time, but it also feels like every second of free time I have, I’m spending it on the phone with this one.”

You and Joel chuckled, your choked out laugh feeling far more artificial than his. You hoped to whatever powers above that you would somehow manage to convince the couple across from you to believe a story that you could barely even believe yourself, although, with the way that Naomi was still glaring at you, you doubted that being the case. 

“That sounds fun,” she replied, leaning forward slightly as if she was ready to sink her teeth into you two and absolutely tear you apart. “So how’d you two reconnect?”

Joel, clearly sensing your discomfort, came to your rescue with a quick, preplanned answer. “Remember when I took Sarah to Manhattan earlier this year?” Joel began, averting his gaze from you and onto his ex, who now shot Joel a pleasant, yet, rehearsed smile. 

“Mhm,” she replied, seemingly already entertained by where the story might end up going. 

“Well, we ran into each other at a coffee shop a few blocks away from her workplace and really just hit it off. The rest is history,” he said, turning his attention back towards you.

“You two were hitting it off in front of our daughter?” Naomi asked, the slight tilt to her head and hint of smirk on her face revealing that her question was less out of concern for their child, and more out of taking an opportunity to antagonize the two of you.

“It was more like reconnecting. I swear, Joel is the only person in the world to think that recommending my favorite bagel shop in the city is flirting,” you attempted to save, not wanting to be labeled as a threat to their child just a few minutes into dinner.

“To my credit, you were selling it pretty hard. You were practically saying, ‘come with me to get bagels tomorrow,’” Joel added on, seemingly lighting up as the two of you added more and more to your fake meet-cute.

“Next time you visit we’ll get all the bagels you want, my love. We can even split them Lady and The Tramp style,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks warm as you imagined you and Joel at the opposite ends of one cream cheese filled bagel.

“Okay, yeah, I get it. I was just joking, anyway,” she replied, clearly fed up with the two of you.

“Sorry,” you apologized, actually feeling a little bad about how long your little bit had gone on. “What about you two? How’d you and Henry meet?”

“It’s actually a pretty cute story,” Henry spoke up after being a passive spectator for an uncomfortable period of time. “Noms had just moved out west a little bit after the divorce, and the two of us met in a yoga class. I accidentally took her yoga mat, and it was… what did you say earlier? The rest was history?”

The two of them shared an intimate laugh, one that indicated that they were referencing some sort of inside joke, just as you and Joel had earlier after you’d shared what you’d been doing with your life since high school. You glanced over at Joel, his pressed smile and slightly furrowed brows a clear indicator that he was not impressed by the two of them. Thankfully, before the tension could go any further, a kind waitress interrupted the conversation with the simple question of whether or not your table was ready to order. 

Shortly after ordering, the conversation picked up once again. While you occasionally were able to ask a question or two about the couple sitting across from you, it above all felt like you and Joel were being interrogated about the nature of your relationship. Lies easily flowed from both of your tongues, sandwiched between fond looks shared between the two of you as if there was no one else in the room, and stolen moments of physical affection that seemed to warm you from the inside-out.

As the two of you added more and more onto your story, the more you began to yearn for the more intricate details of it all to be true.

You wanted to receive a bouquet of flowers on your doorstep from someone almost two-thousand miles from you, just because he’d been thinking about you. You wanted to have a reason to come back and visit the city you grew up in, and to learn about every new hole-in-the-wall shop that had come to mean a lot to him. You wanted to take on his hobbies, and have him take on some of yours despite you both being terrible at them, solely because you knew that the other cared about it. The longer the night went on, the clearer everything became: you wanted all of this and more with Joel, but you’d clearly never be able to have him. 

It was no longer a question to you of if your arrangement should end, and had clearly become a matter of when it was going to end. No matter how much fun you were having holding Joel’s hand under the table and feeding the man next to you bites of scallop, you knew it wasn’t sustainable to be feeling so strongly about a situation that had been doomed from the start.

You were undoubtedly treading a very thin line between getting your hopes up for what wasn’t, but could be, and savoring every last second you had with Joel, pretending to be something that the two of you were very obviously not. With the arrival and passing of dessert, and the final spoonfuls of a split chocolate cake, you’d realized that your time with Joel had ended; a conclusion as bitter as the dark chocolate garnish on your shared plate.

The two of you held hands once more as you walked out to his car, fingers lingering together even after the couple you’d been putting a show on were safely tucked away in their own vehicle. You didn’t talk much on your ride back home, the air thick with a tension that made you wonder if Joel had come to a similar conclusion of his own during dinner. The radio filled in the silence where words lacked, covers of Christmas songs filling in for the conversation that surely should’ve been occurring. 

After a ride that felt like it had lasted forever and no time at all, you had finally arrived at your sister’s place, the final resting ground for whatever your relationship had been.

“Thanks,” you said as you unclipped your seatbelt, wanting to rip the bandaid off and leave as quickly as humanly possible, while also lingering in his car forever. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” he looked at you for a moment as if he had something more to say, but was holding his tongue. Taking one long look at your face, then offering you a weak half smile, he spoke once more. “You too.”

-

Though you were mildly disappointed when you didn’t hear back from Joel, you couldn’t say that you were particularly surprised. Everything about your final encounter in his truck indicated that the very brief chapter in both of your lives of pretending to be what you both were not was over. Still, you couldn’t deny the remnant ache in your chest when your father asked where your boyfriend was over Christmas dinner, or the pathetic way that you secretly hoped every ring of the bakery door would deliver you Joel Miller, much like your first day back in Austin did. 

Once again, you attempted to drown yourself in your work, working from open to close at your sister’s bakery and ending the day with sore legs, flour in your hair, and an intense desire to never consume anything sweet ever again. You somehow even managed to convince your boss to let you clock a few virtual hours at your actual job, spending all of the time that you were not at the bakery in your temporary bedroom, doing whatever tasks would set you ahead by the time you returned to work.

You realized you weren’t being particularly subtle with the fact that you were trying to distract yourself from something, and while your sister did her best to be whatever it was that you needed during such a bizarre time, she didn’t exactly press, though you were sure she had a bit of an idea of what was making you feel so down. 

“Hey, I have a catering job for us,” she informed you one morning as the two of you worked side-by-side. 

“When? You remember I’m leaving tomorrow, right?” you sighed, hoping your sister recognized your mild annoyance as less with her, and more with your time in Austin as a whole. You desperately wanted to leave, but you’d promised to stay until the new year began, when orders typically began to slow down. (“Resolutions,” she told you over the phone as you prepared to come back home.)

“Of course I remember,” she shook her head playfully as she spoke to you. “It’s tonight. At the Spoke. They’re doing some New Year’s Eve thing, and I think it’ll be fun.”

“I think maybe we have two different definitions of fun,” you commented, continuing to roll out the piece of dough in front of you.

“Oh, come on. What were you going to be doing anyway?” she pressed you, her attempt to get you to get out of the house clear as day now. “Working in your bedroom during your break? Sulking for reasons you refuse to share with me? Watching episodes of The Bachelor that you’ve seen a hundred times already?”

“Ugh, okay, okay. I’ll do it. We’ll do it,” you finally conceded.

“Good! Now, do you want a coffee? We’re gonna have a lot of trays to finish today.”

You couldn’t deny that it made you feel a little bit better knowing that you had somewhere fun to go that night. Despite living in Texas for the first portion of your life, you’d never had the opportunity to go to any sort of dance hall, and though you’d probably be spending the majority of your time distributing cupcakes to people, you were excited to be doing something fun regardless. 

After your longest and final shift at the bakery, your sister hugged you as tight as she could manage and thanked you for everything you’d helped her accomplish this holiday season, before sending you back home to get dressed up for the dance hall. After deciding to go full cowgirl with your attire, you peered in your sibling’s closet for any article of clothing that you could borrow for the night, and ultimately left her closet with a completely different wardrobe.

Even as you and your sister arrived at the dance hall early to set up, patrons were already beginning to flood into the venue. Their excited energy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but feel invigorated, your downtrodden feelings being replaced with much more positive ones.

As the night went on, you found yourself having more and more fun, whether it was from distributing pastries to rosy-cheeked dancers who paused to take a break from the floor, or flirty gentlemen who took the brief moment of your fingers touching over a distributed cupcake to ask to buy you a drink. While you were sure that you would’ve had a decent time doing nothing at home, then popping a bottle of champagne at midnight, the night was certainly shaping up to be a memorable one. 

Time seemed to be flying by as you stood by the table, offering cupcakes to whoever passed you by. It wasn’t long before Ben arrived, and your sister was excusing herself from the table to share a dance with her partner. You watched the two of them with adoration, thinking of how you would love to have someone to come sweep you off your feet and offer to dance with you–well, someone other than a sweaty patron. As much as you’d tried to convince yourself over the years that you weren’t cut out for relationships, your trip and weird fake dating arrangement with Joel had made you realize something of the opposite. Maybe you’d be ringing in the New Year with a Hinge download. 

After passing out the final cupcake you had, you began to break down boxes and put away some of the other items you’d brought to help the distribution process go more smoothly. With your back turned to the dance floor as you dropped leftover napkins into a plastic bag, you were surprised as you heard a familiar voice greet you from behind.  

“Joel?” you said as you looked up at the patiently waiting person, surprised to see his face after such an abrupt ending and a period of radio silence between the two of you.

“Hi,” he said, almost shyly. 

“Hi. Sorry, we just ran out of cupcakes” you stated, trying to pretend that things were business as usual between the two of you–whatever business as usual meant now. 

“I don’t…” Joel trailed off before ditching the idea altogether, surely figuring that whatever he had to say was more important than an explanation of how he was uninterested in the treats you were serving. “Can we talk?” 

“I mean,” you hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be better to avoid everything altogether and simply move on with your life. You could simply tell him no, hop on a plane the following afternoon, then never think about Joel again. It would all be so simple and easy–the exact opposite of what your relationship had spiraled into during your time back in Austin.  “Yeah. Sure. Let’s talk.”

The truth was, as easy as you would’ve liked it to be, you were intrigued by Joel’s nervous body language. As he shifted from foot to foot and subtly picked at his hand, you imagined him walking into the hall with his friends, or whoever it was that he came with, seeing you, and immediately going to leave the venue, only staying from the coercion and peer pressure of his peers. You imagined him spending the night working up the nerve to come say to you what was left unspoken the last time the two of you talked, hoping that the beers in his system and all of the dancing would finally get enough jitters out of him to finally address you. 

“I’m all ears,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest in a subconscious protective measure. Even though he could do no physical harm to you, your brain was all too aware of the damage he’d done to your heart in the past. 

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not reaching out to you after our dinner, and for being an oblivious idiot in high school. And I guess, for being an oblivious idiot now,” he began to blather, glancing down nervously at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

You were surprised by his words and slightly unsure of what to say, or even think in response. Now that you had heard his apology, you were beginning to have an idea of the direction that this confession was likely going to take, and you couldn’t tell if you should be leaping for joy or finding the nearest exit. Maybe you could figure out a way to do both, jumping and skipping as you left through the fire exit.

Joel began to search for his next words and you tried to ignore the racing heartbeat in your chest as you attempted to search for your own. Just when you were thinking that it would be impossible for your situation to get any more uncomfortable, a man slightly shorter than Joel and who oddly resembled him sauntered up to the table where the two of you were attempting to speak.

“It’s gonna be twelve soon! Come dance!” the man shouted at Joel, his accent heavy and his words slurred as he grabbed onto Joel’s flannel sleeve. Joel shot him a dirty look, one that clearly communicated his annoyance, but didn’t exactly scream surprised. 

“Not now, Tommy,” Joel reprimanded, his gritted teeth and tense demeanor making you want to laugh–if not for his reaction, then over the surrealistic nature of the scene. Mere moments into some sort of apology or confession, the two of you had been interrupted by his intoxicated acquaintance asking him to dance. 

“Yes now, Joel. C’mon, lighten up!” the man practically whined, eliciting an exasperated eye roll from Joel. He looked back at you with tense shoulders and worry in his eyes, and you couldn’t exactly tell if he was looking for backup or sympathy. Instead of responding to him with either, you gave him a shy shrug of approval.

“We can talk while we dance?” you suggested, part of you hoping that maybe the distraction of doing something else while you spoke would make your conversation a little less difficult. 

Taking Joel’s hand, you followed the men out to the dance floor, where Tommy had disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared to interrupt Joel’s confession. Part of you wondered if this had been premeditated, or if Joel’s drunk friend was simply not able to read the room.

“Before we start, I have a confession of my own,” you began, hoping that what you were about to say would at least lighten up the mood of your conversation. Clearly, the two of you struggled with communicating your feelings, and you hoped sharing what you were prepared to share would at least be helpful in opening up a line of communication.

“Yeah?” he said hopefully. You tried your best to fight the smile that was threatening to appear on your face at the sound of his tone, but ultimately failed.

“I don’t have a damn clue how to do this,” you confessed, glancing over at the pairings around you moving together as if they had done these steps a million times–and knowing your town, they probably had. 

“It’s fine,” he said without an ounce of judgment in his voice. “I’ll teach you how.”

And he did, his mouth pressed closely to your ear as he counted off numbers in time with the live band just a few feet away from you, and directed your body left, right, back, and forward until you finally seemed to get the hang of the dance. Though there was still an elephant remaining in the room, dancing seemed to be successful in alleviating some of the tension that lingered. 

“Is it okay if we continue our conversation?” Joel asked as the two of you took a synchronized step back. Your eyes were trained on your nearly matching boots, and the thought of having to face your feelings–or the lack thereof–made your stomach churn. Once again, you began to consider the most efficient exit routes.

“Of course,” you replied, doing your best to mask the nerves that had bubbled right back up as you finally met his eye. 

“I was so excited to see you, when I found out you were back in town. I guess there was still part of me that wondered what things might have been like if things were different. Then I saw you in the store, and we started doing… whatever we were doing, and I just kept wanting more. It just felt so real, too real, and I started wanting more than what I could have. I mean, you live so far away, and even if you didn’t, I’m sure you have romantic prospects all over the place. Why would you settle for me?”

You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joel still thought about you? He had begun to want more in the same way that you did the more your fake relationship progressed? He thought he wasn’t good enough for you?

“Joel-” you began, his name slipping off your tongue involuntarily. You desperately wanted to dispute his claims, but he didn't let you finish. 

“I guess I just wanted to apologize for how I acted. I didn’t want you to assume that things ended how they ended for any other reason other than me making terrible decisions as usual.” Once again, it was Joel’s turn to look uncomfortable, and you couldn’t exactly blame him after what he shared with you. 

“I accept your apology, but it wasn’t all your fault. And you’re not an idiot,” you clarified in between a spin, finishing your sentence as Joel pulled you back to him. “I was disappointed, but I understood. Honestly, I was starting to feel the same way with you. Our fake dating was starting to feel a little too much like real dating, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up when you were clearly uninterested.”

“But I’m not uninterested,” Joel looked at you with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, which only seemed to be highlighted by the fact that his arm was draped across your torso, a welcome result of the spinning move. “I want to try, if you want to try. The distance is a hurdle, but we can give it a shot, at the very least. We can visit each other when we get the chance. We can watch the same episodes of The Bachelor, then discuss it afterward.”

“Oh my god, who told you about that?” you remarked, interrupting his big speech. 

“Your sister. At the Christmas party,” Joel replied, his cheeks flush with the adrenaline of sharing his feelings with you and the excitement of dreaming of a future with you.

“She’s unbelievable,” you murmured, shaking your head the slightest bit before Joel continued.

“But that’s besides the point. We can send each other delivered gifts, and can talk to each other every day, like what you told Naomi.”

“What I told her when I was lying?” you asked with a laugh, reminiscing on your dinner.

“Well, yeah… But it doesn’t have to be a lie. I can come visit you, and you can come visit me. We can get bagels at your favorite shop when I come to the city. I can teach you how to dance when you come to Austin. Maybe it’s crazy, but I think we can try. Should try.”

“I would like nothing more than that,” you confessed, an honest truth that seemed to light you up from the inside. Hearing Joel’s almost crazed rant about how passionate he was about trying made you a little less afraid of your possible future together, and a whole lot more sure about your feelings for the man. 

“Then let’s do it. Let’s do it right this time,” he said as the music finally came to a conclusion, being swapped out for none other than the chant of a countdown. 

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. 

As cheers of ‘Happy New Years’ rang out, Joel gently directed your face towards his, your noses and foreheads pleasantly bumping into each other. As your lips finally touched, it felt as if two puzzle pieces designed for each other and meant to be together had finally fallen into place, the rumble of fireworks outside celebrating the long-awaited union between the two of your bodies.  

In the past, the affection the two of you had shared had felt real, but deep down you were aware that it was nothing more than a farce. A façade to trick judgmental exes and prying family members. But this time, the affection was different. 

The growing warm feeling in your chest, the electric sparks on your skin where Joel was touching you, and the look of admiration in his eyes once you’d finally pulled away told you everything you needed to know. 

This was real.

[wandascrush]

Meet cute

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: nerves, money troubles, female reader, popular girls? A/N: In works to be a series, more parts soon! “I love you…but I will never stop hating you,” you practically whispered out the last line. The small phone booth you were in smelled like cigarettes and dust. You heard her breath on the other line, shakey. She said nothing. The endless rain created a waterfall on the glass windows, making your wife, Jamie, look like a blur of colors on the other side of the road, standing there with your two children. That was the last time you ever spoke to her. 

                     1954-Junior Year- NYC

     The first time you ever talked to Natasha was on the first day of Junior Year at Manhattan School for the Gifted. It was one of the most prestigious highschools in New York City and only few above a certain IQ were accepted. You were lucky enough to be above that IQ and be riding on a scholarship. You’d always seen her around the halls, classy, preppy, talking with her friends or teasing the poor boys that drooled over her (they didn’t stand a chance). Everyone knew her family, the Romanoffs, and her father, the head chief of the NYPD. To be frank, your opinion of her was nothing short of the rumors you’d been told- Natasha Romanoff was a rich bitch that only got into this school because of money. You know what they say, money makes the world go ‘round. So it shocked you when she gently tapped you on the shoulder as you were putting your books away in your locker, “Y/N right? I’m your locker buddy.” 

“Yeah, Y/N L/N. Pleased to meet you,” you felt weird about shaking her hand but there it was, awkwardly waiting for hers to shake back. Being forced to look at her also made you realize what pretty eyes she had, as if someone took the greenest pieces of the forest and made them into her soft orbs. 

She gently swatted your hand away, laughed, and pulled you into a soft hug, “I’m a hugger, silly.” The innocence of it genuinely touched you, and an unfamiliar feeling sprouted in your chest. That first day of Junior year, for whatever odd reason, she followed you around to break, lunch, and even got on the same bus as you after school, the fabric of her soft skirt rubbing up against your leg the entire ride home. As sweet as she was, the tension in the air was thick as you both knew her hanging around you was nothing short of unnatural. 

Yes, you were beautiful in your own right with big e/c eyes and soft skin, bouncy hair and sharp intelligence, and you could easily fit in with someone like Natasha- but your friend group wasn’t exactly popular. You were all working class girls who had to catch a job after school, instead of hang around the popular spots like some of the other kids in your grade. The girls that were able to hang out at the vinyl shop or at Joe’s burger spot didn’t let the difference between you and them go unnoticed- and most of those girls were Natasha’s friends.

Natasha rode your subway all the way to Brooklyn, where you worked at the corner bodega, your parents shop. Right before she followed you in, you turned around, “Uhm- sorry, Natasha. It’s not that I don’t want to be friends and all, but you’ve followed me a whole 45 minutes to my job just because?” You saw the way she bit her lip and hugged her played with her hair out of nervousness, “Well, I mean I do want to be friends, of course…but I also heard you were pretty good in the STEM area. Look, Mr. Stark has a project for us that he’s going to show at our end of the year fair and I don’t know shit about robotics. I was thinking…maybe you could help?” She looked at you with doe eyes and a little smirk after her rather colorful language that told you maybe there was more to this girl. Maybe. The way she talked to you was different too, not necessarily just friendly- and anything but cold. You shifted your weight to lean against the wall, contemplating her words. A part of you wanted to say no, but she slowly pulled a small little envelope out of her book bag. Your heart leaped at the thought of it being what you wanted most…cold, hard, cash. Cash that your family really needed.

“This is just a starting amount, is $85 a week okay? You could come over to my house maybe twice a week for a few hours and we can work on it.” “I’ll start Monday.”

Later that night, as you tied your hair into rollers and tucked yourself into your cozy bed, Natasha lied awake in bed as she thought about your interaction. Her mind replayed your smile, nervous laughter, and the way you made your friends laugh so hard at lunch that they cried. She wished she enjoyed her friends that much. Each time her eyes closed, your face popped up in her mind. The redhead started retracing your features like a picture. What was wrong with her? A warm feeling blossomed in the pit of her stomach, slowly working its way up to her chest- but she stopped it. Not again. Natasha Romanoff is completely normal, completely perfect…and completely straight.

[holdmytesseract]

Loki request: Reader with KP (Keratosis Pilaris). She is a little insecure about her KP. She finally decides to tell Loki and show him. Of course, the KP doesn't bother him. In fact, he loves it. He tells her that she shouldn't worry about something that bothers silly Midgardians. He will kiss every bump on her body. He sometimes needs to feel her bumpy arms after a bad day.

Just The Way You Are

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: You shut yourself off from Loki; not showing him an inch of your skin. Being the doubtful God he is, he immediately is afraid that he was doing something wrong. What happens when he accidentally uncovers your secret?

Warnings: angst, insecurities/insecure reader, fluff, talks of sex? nudity? even more fluff, Loki being the best boyfriend

Word Count: 2k

a/n: I hope you like this, friend! :) This is the last story of this year! It's been one hell of a ride - that much is clear! Huge thanks to everyone who became part of the crew and read my stories. And of course to all my wonderful friends and mutuals! I love you all! *biiiig hugs*

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemis @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds

Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist

The library was empty at that time of the day. It was quiet.

Almost too quiet.

The only sound was the ticking sound of the clock, hanging at the wall. A sound Loki didn't even discerned. He was way too lost in his thoughts - something Thor noticed, too, when he entered the library. All the god of Thunder wanted was to put back a few books Jane had read and now he found his brother staring absent-mindedly at the white wall across from him. Loki wasn't even blinking.

Thor frowned; cocked his head. "Have you magicked the lines of that book on the wall or why are you so focused on white nothingness, brother?" The blonde man's booming voice ripped Loki rather harshly out of his thoughts. He almost jumped out of his skin.

"Oh fy faen, brother!" Loki cursed; jaw clenching. Thor giggled apologetically. "Apologies, brother. I didn't mean to scare you..." He paused for a moment; watched how Loki crossed his arms over his chest; grumbling. "Why were you staring at the wall? Are you quite alright?" The younger god's fingers twitched around the book; body visibly tensing. "Sure." He just said; shaking his head.

Thor was probably not always the smartest, but by now - after all those years, he could tell when something was bothering Loki. Not always, but today was it quite obvious. The blonde shook his head. "You are not. I can tell. Don't fool me, brother. What's bothering you?" Loki snorted. "Nothing of your interest, brother. My problem, not yours." Thor frowned and then shook his head, before he plopped down next to Loki on the way too small sofa for the bulky man's physique, almost crushing his younger sibling.

"Brother, what-" Loki complained, but got cut off by Thor slapping his big palm against his chest; causing all the air to leave his lungs. "Talk to me. I know something is wrong. I want to help you, Loki." The raven haired man coughed; needing to take a big breath. "And..." Another deep breath. "And what exactly makes you think that you can help me?" Thor just shrugged his shoulders; giving him a smile. "Intention. Besides, we are brothers."

Loki crossed his arms over his chest once more. "And what if I simply don't wish to talk to you?" "You don't have to, but I'm sure it would help. Of course you can just keep on bottling all up until it- How does that Midgardian saying go?" Thor frowned; thinking hard. "Ah! Until it eats you up inside!" He shrugged his shoulders again, "Do whatever pleases you." and wanted to stand up, when Loki held him back. "Alright, alright, fine," he grumbled; giving in.

Thor smiled and sat back down beside him. "Spill it. I'm all ears, brother."

Loki sighed; felt the embarrassment creeping a bit up on him. "It's about Y/N... She... She won't let me... see her." Thor frowned; was visibly not catching up, "What do you mean by that?" and causing Loki to roll his eyes. "Oh for faen," he mumbled underneath his breath. "Sex, brother! It's about sex!"

Thor blinked for a few moment, until a shit-eating grin formed on his face. "Does my little brother has problems with satisfying his lady?" He gave him a nudge with his shoulder; wiggling his eyebrows. "Don't fret, brother. I'm the perfect man to give you advice in how to-" Loki pinched the bridge of his nose; already regretting that he agreed to talk to Thor. "It's not that!" He cut his brother off and sighed.

"No?" Thor asked; smile dropping. "What, uh, is it then?" Another sigh left the raven haired god's lips. "Where do I start..." Loki said; more to himself than Thor. "We are together now for almost six months and... I... I'm afraid that I'm doing something wrong..." The blonde's gaze softened; realising that this was a serious, important matter. "Why is that?" Loki started to pick nervously at his nails. "Well, because she... She seems to 'hide' herself from me. She avoids me, seeing her barely dressed or naked. She locks the door when she's showering or changing... I-I mean, I understand that. I really do. If she feels uncomfortable with that yet, then I won't push her, but whenever I try to speak with her about this, she escapes the conversation..." Loki swallows. "And now I'm afraid that I am the reason... You know me, brother... The voices in my head are getting louder and louder. Am I doing something wrong? Did I push her too much and didn't notice it? Is she not trusting me enough? If yes, why?" Loki hung his head; raven curls falling into his face. "I give her all the time she needs. I'd wait forever for her, but... It's bothering me. I-I want to understand it and help her - but I can't, because she won't talk to me... What do I do, brother?"

"Hmm..." Thor hums; scratching his beardy chin. "What if you talk to her properly?" Loki blinked. "Properly?" Thor nodded. "Just... confront her directly. Tell Lady Y/N that this is bothering you and that you wish to understand." "But what if she tries to avoid me again?"

The god of thunder smiled and clapped his hand on Loki's shoulder. "You've got a silver-tongue, brother... Talking is your strength. You just have to wait for the right moment." Loki looked a bit uncertain at the blonde man. "If you say so..." "I know so." The raven haired man gave his brother a small smile. "Thank you."

And Loki waited for the right moment. It took quite a few days for the right moment to arrive, but in the end, it did...

Loki came to you earlier that evening. Steve's eight o'clock meeting didn't take as long as usual and therefore, Loki was too early. Something you didn't know and not anticipated to happen. You were sure that you had enough time to take a shower and get dressed until your boyfriend came back - but you didn't... "Darling?" The god called out for you. It was dark in your apartment. Since you were a couple, Loki spent more time in your home than his. He frowned; looking down the dark hallway - and noticed that the light in your bathroom was on. Only seconds later, he heard the running water of the shower. Loki swallowed hard; knew exactly that you were unaware of his presence. He considered for a millisecond to try and see if the door was open - but no. No, he wouldn't do that. He respected your privacy and whatever you were insecure about.

Taking off his shoes and suit jacket, he decided to wait in the bedroom for you. A green shimmer enveloped his body as he walked inside the cosy room; changing him from his 'business clothes' into casual clothes. Sweatpants and t-shirt. He grabbed the book resting on your nightstand and flopped on the bed; reading.

Meanwhile you still hadn't a single clue that Loki was already back and currently chilling on your bed. Therefore, you finished showering carelessly and made your way to the bedroom after blow drying your hair - only wearing underwear, in order to get dressed.

Humming the song which ghosted through your brain already the whole day, you opened the door and walked in. You were so rapt in the song, you didn't even notice that your bedside lamp was on - or your boyfriend laying on the bed. Loki blinked; was quite shocked about your 'careless behaviour'. His eyes widened as they travelled over your almost nude body; seeing the holy temple he always wanted to worship but never could suddenly in front of him.

"D-Darling?" He more or less stuttered out with a husky voice.

Hearing the sound of his voice; you flinched badly and literally were completely taken by surprise. Like a deer, caught in the headlights you stared at Loki; eyes at the size of plates. But once your mind had caught up, all warnings bells inside your brain were ringing. Get out of here! Get out of here! Your mind was screaming at you. Escape the situation! Flee!

Acting on your instinct, you did just that. You ran. Out of the bedroom, inside the bathroom; door flying shut behind you. Loki immediately realised what was going on and jumped to his feet; storming after you - but he was too slow. Just when he reached the door, the lock clicked shut.

"Darling?!" Loki was afraid; worried that he scared you off even more now. I should've told her I am here, he cursed himself internally. "Y/N? L-Love, please... I'm sorry." A few seconds later, he heard a small sob from the other side; followed by a uncertain, wobbly voice. "A-Are... Are you going to leave me now?"

Loki frowned; was more than just confused - if that was even possible...

"Why... Why in all the nine realms should I leave you, love?" You sobbed - and it almost broke the god's heart. "B-Because you saw me half naked... You probably even saw it..."

Loki blinked. That was it. He couldn't take this anymore. "Okay, darling, please open the door. We need to talk. This is long overdue."

You already feared the worst, as you anxiously unlocked the door and opened it slowly, hesitatingly; letting Loki in. He stepped inside - and was face to face with your almost naked self for the second time in his life. While you fought the urge to cover yourself, Loki literally bathed in the vision of your beautiful body.

"You are stunning, my love. Absolutely beautiful. A goddess."

You blinked. "I-I... What? Loki, are you... Are you kidding me?" Those words almost hurt him. "Why should I, love?" Your jaw dropped. You couldn't believe this. "Don't... Don't you see it?" You gestured at your legs, shoulders and belly. "Are you blind?" A single tear was running down your cheeks - and Loki fought the urge to wipe it away. "You mean the red, bumpy dots-" "On my skin, yes." You interrupted him. Loki swallowed; was very uncertain about how to react in that situation right now. You seemed hurt, but also sad, insecure and angry.

"What are they? Is it a-a illness?" You nodded; defeated. "Keratosis Pilaris. A skin condition, which leaves not very pretty small, rough, reddish or white bumps and patches on the skin." Loki stayed silent for a moment; processing your words. "Is it... harmless?" "Yes." A relieved breath left his lips. "Oh thank the Norns. You really had me worried there for a second, darling." You blinked; were on the brink of being speechless. "You... You are not... d-disgusted?" Horror overtook your boyfriend's face. "Disgusted?!" He shook his head. "No, no, my darling Y/N. Absolutely not. You are the most beautiful woman those eyes have ever seen. I don't care about the bumps and patches. It's a part of you - and I love every part of you."

"Y-You do?"

"Yes. With all my heart."

The butterflies within you belly were running wild at his sweet, heart melting words. It became a lot to handle suddenly; your emotions, insecurities and fears overwhelming you. Words failed you. All you could do was cry. Loki was instantly by your side; literally catching you, wrapping you up in a snug, warm hug. His lips pressed against your forehead. "Shh, my beautiful angel. I love you."

You snuggled even closer against him and just cried; getting all out of your system.

When you had calmed down a bit, Loki carried you back into the bedroom and laid down on the bed with you; pulling you against his body. "Was that the reason why you always avoided to get undressed in front of me?" You nodded; another tear rolling down your cheek. "Y-Yes. I-I'm pretty insecure about my KP a-and well... All the guys I dated before you were, uh, they... They didn't like it." Loki was shocked. Appalled at what you just told him. "All those Midgardian men never fail to disgust me... How dare they." He spat; shaking his head. "They clearly don't know how to treat a woman properly." The god smiled lovingly at you and started to pepper your skin with kisses; paying extra attention to the little bumps on your body.

"Never ever hide yourself from me, my love. I love you just the way you are, okay?" You nodded; giving him a small smile. "Okay."

[xoxochb]

saw ur post abt requests !!! this is seriously only if you want to do it but i thought i'd send one in to get you out of your boredom 😪💕

could you write js smth short where jason x fem!reader where she teaches him how to braid hair and he practices on her and messes it up but later after he practices on himself he braids her hair fr and it turns out super good !!! 😣 this idea is so silly but idk 😔✋

⋆·˚ ༘ * your braids like a pattern

warnings: this is written by someone who has no clue how to braid hair 😭

pairing: jason grace x fem reader

It’s been an hour now. yes, an hour, that’s because your boyfriend is an idiot

“you’re supposed to twist it around the other one, not the whole thing!” you slap his hands away from your hair

“I’m trying! I can’t do anything if you keep yelling at me” he cries

“I wouldn’t be yelling at you if you listened to me”

he fakes a pout “okay… can I try again now?”

“nope” you shake your head

he frowns for real this time when you get up and undo your braids that he attempted and for the next twenty minutes he did tons of research to finally perfect a braid, even going as far as to try on his own hair, which was difficult but he would do it if it meant it made you happy

once he thinks he has it perfected he jumps up from his spot on the bed and runs to the living room where he finds you sitting on the couch reading a book peacefully

“can I have another try?” he asks sitting down

you look up from your book “I suppose…”

he smiles widely as you put your book down and turn around so your back is facing him

“don’t say anything until I’m done” he demands and you nod your head

before you know it he’s put two braids into your hair, looking almost perfect from the angle you see it

“I’m gonna look in the mirror!” you stand up and walk to the bathroom, jason following close behind you

when you get there you look in the mirror, inspecting every inch of your hair and you realize they are truly perfect

you squeal, turning around to give your boyfriend a large hug “they’re amazing!”

“took a lot of practice” he kisses your shoulder

“you’re going to do my hair every day!” you say

“I would love that” he smiles

[cwritesforfun]

Jeremiah Fisher x Fem!Reader: I Like You

Hear me out, Jeremiah ain't a great person/character ... but the actor is cute... and if you don't like it, you don't gotta read this besties.

All of the other characters are rooting for you two to get together finally.

Y/N = Your Name

~ I do not own the Summer I Turned Pretty characters, plot, or anything else involved with the show and books

Masterlist

Y/N’s POV

You just arrived to Cousins Beach and as soon as you parked, Belly was waiting to hug you. Conrad and Jeremiah moved to help with the suitcases.

As Belly hugged you, she whispered in your ear, “He’s been talking about you nonstop. Just tell him that you like him, please. Please so that we can double date while you're here.” You whisper, "I'm not making any promises." She sighs and says, "Boo. He's not going to reject you." You reply, "He could."

You see Conrad walking your way and you hug him. He whispers, "Please tell Jeremiah you like him. All I hear is your name. I know your entire life." You laugh and say, "Belly said the same thing." He smiles and says, "See, we're both right and you know it. Listen, why don't we make a bet?" You answer, "Fine, let's do it." He answers, "My mom would be so mad if I bet a lot of money, so we'll only do a small amount. I know you like to win. So, I bet you $20 that you won't tell Jeremiah you like him by Friday. That is 48 hours. If you don't tell him by then, I will." You reply, "Deal. Feel free to tell Belly. I know you two can't keep secrets from each other." You both shake hands and he says, "Oh I will be telling her."

You see Jeremiah walking toward you asking, "Why do you two look like you're plotting something?" You shrug and Conrad says, "I think you should ask Y/N that. I'm going to find Belly." You say, "Oh well I want to surprise Belly and we were just talking about that." You notice Conrad tapping his watch and you flip him off. Jeremiah says, "I don't believe you, but hey I missed you so much. We have so much to catch up on." You reply, "It's been one day since we last talked." He replies, "I know," before pulling you into a hug that makes you feel right at home. Jeremiah helps you carry your last few bags up to your room where he makes himself right at home on your bed talking as you unpack.

Conrad walks in and says, "Hey Jere. Mom needs us real quick." Jeremiah replies, "But Y/N just got here. I thought... okay Y/N I will be back." He hugs and then leaves with Conrad.

Belly walks in and plops herself onto the bed where Jeremiah was just sitting. She exclaims, "You and Conrad are so stupid." You ask, "So he told you about the bet then? I don't think it's that dumb. You said yourself that I need to tell him about my feelings." She replies, "I know, but this feels like we're forcing it to happen and you're forcing it to happen too. It should feel natural." You reply, "Well, I'm not bringing it up unless it feels natural in the next 48 hours. I'm not just going to burst it out all crazy out of nowhere." She replies, "That's good then... uh need help unpacking?" You nod, turn on music, and dance as you unpack.

Conrad tells you that dinner is ready and everyone gathers together to eat dinner. You sit next to your mom and Belly slides in the seat next to you. You notice Jeremiah frown when there's not an open seat next to you and he has to sit down on the other side.

Mrs. Fisher makes the boys leave with her saying they have an early morning and Jeremiah manages to give you a quick hug before he leaves.

You fall asleep almost instantly after dinner and you wake up to missed calls from Jeremiah. The texts say that he has to go on some full day fishing trip with his father and Conrad. Weird, they never go fishing.

The next night, your family hangs out with Belly and her family. Mrs. Fisher shows up because the boys are still gone.

It's the next day, Friday. You realize that the time is almost up for the bet. Are you really about to lose $20 on a silly bet?

Jeremiah texts you and asks if you're going to the party on the beach. You agree and he excitedly sends a billion texts about how he missed you and how the fishing trip went. You really do like him, but you don't want to tell him over text.

It's exactly 48 hours since the bet and you're sitting with Belly at a party on the beach. Jeremiah and Conrad show up strolling right over. You take out a $20 bill, hand it over to Conrad, and say, "You win." Jeremiah asks, "Win what? Did you two make a bet?" You answer, "Look, I uh... I like you more than a friend and would like to date you, Jere. Conrad and I made a bet that was for me to tell you within 48 hours. I lost. I do think Conrad cheated. There is no effing way Conrad needed you the past 48 hours that much and you all went fishing!" Conrad says, "Well I guess the cat's out of the bag now. Belly and I will be over there." They both move away and you face Jeremiah who is in shock. You jokingly ask, "So what's new with you?" He answers, "I was supposed to ask you out," before storming off. Ok weirdo. You chase after him and tug his wrist asking, "Jere, talk to me!" He shrugs you off and runs to the car area. Is he leaving? You walk over to Belly and Conrad who are making out, which you could care less about. You interrupt them saying, "Great job dumbos, now he's not talking to me and he went to the cars." They pull apart and Conrad says, "This was not part of the plan. Well, I guess you could move on." You reply, "Uh huh great idea... stick with Belly. I'm going to find Steven. Maybe he's not angry and annoying." You see Steven with Taylor and a few other people, so you stand talking with them for a bit.

Later, you feel someone tap your shoulder and you turn to see Jeremiah looking sheepish. He asks, "Could we talk?" You nod and follow him to a quieter area on the beach. He pulls a box out of his pocket, hands it to you, and says, "I bought this a month ago and I've been waiting to give it to you. I saw it and thought of you. I wanted to ask you out and give you this. I just ... I was nervous you would say no to dating me... I'm sorry for storming away after everything... um wanna try the whole asking each other out again?" You answer, "I would like that very much." You take the necklace, open it, and see a beautiful colorful gem on your favorite color chain. You smile and say, "It's really beautiful." He replies, "Just like you." You reply, "Thank you for the necklace... and for the record, I would have said yes to a date. I just don't remember being asked out on one yet. So as far as I know, I'm free to date whoever." He smirks, pulls you closer, and asks, "Would you, Y/N, go on a date with me and be my exclusive girlfriend? I can't take you being with anyone else." You answer, "I will gladly be your girlfriend and date you." He asks, "Do you think I've earned a kiss?" You answer, "You deserve it." You both kiss.

[whimsylueur]

SPOILERS FOR SKULDUGGERY PLEASANT (EVERY BOOK)

Since I have caught up with the entire series thus far I would like to provide some commentary in the form of incorrect quotes.

Skulduggery Pleasant Books 1-16, basically:

SP 1- Sceptre of the Ancients

Skulduggery:

Stephanie: You son of a bitch, I’m in

SP 2- Playing with Fire

Skulduggery to Derek: I’ve seen enough, give her Billy-Ray Sanguine.

SP 3- The Faceless Ones

Solomon to Valkyrie: I may have an idea to help you get Skulduggery back, all I want-

Valkyrie, already shaking his hand: Anything.

SP 4- Dark Days

Valkyrie, holding Skulduggery’s skull towards him: Need head?

(🚨🚨THIS IS A JOKE🚨🚨)

SP 5- Mortal Coil

Skulduggery, after Valkyrie spills the beans about Darquesse: (Quietly) Look at us, just two murderous peas in a pod.

Valkyrie: What was that?

Skulduggery: Huh?

SP 6- Death Bringer

Skulduggery to Lord Vile about Darquesse: Oh deuce, the silly goose is loose

SP 7- Kingdom of the Wicked

Kitana to Valkyrie: 6 feet of dirt would look good on you <3

SP 8- Last stand of Dead Men

Billy-Ray to Ghastly about Tanith: If she’s your girlfriend, why is she playing with my mullet?

SP 9- The Dying of the Light

Valkyrie to Skulduggery: I literally love you, you’re everything to me. Don’t do this

Skulduggery, after the most devious prank of the decade: Oh cheer up

SP 10- Resurrection

Valkyrie: It’s so over bros

SP 11- Midnight

Valkyrie: The dog in me has been euthanised

SP 12- Bedlam

Valkyrie: My favourite thing about me is my girlfriend

SP 13- Seasons of War

Valkyrie: WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK

SP 14- Dead or Alive

Valkyrie: Uh

Cadaver, hugging her tightly: Shhhh, I need this

SP 15- Until the End

Darquesse: Today, I’m a serious goose. (Revamps the entire fucking universe)

SP 16- A Mind Full of Murder

Skulduggery to Valkyrie: You mean the world to me. I love you, you make me strong.

Valkyrie: Cornyyyyy

[the1975attheirverybest]

Skeleton Man

A/N: I don’t know what this is tbh.

Warnings: smut

———

She walked through the door with a smile on her face in anticipation of seeing his beautiful eyes as soon as she stepped foot inside, but he was nowhere to be found. Not rushing to greet her at the door with a kiss and a big hug. Not smoking in the living room and reading a book, not playing video games, not strumming his guitar or listening to the record player as he messed around in the kitchen.

She took the stairs up as worry started to set in. She pulled her phone out to check for any messages from him, but there was nothing. Maybe he got held up at a label meeting, or, the more likely option, maybe he and George hit their stride on the new song and he’s song engrossed in it that he’s lost track of time. Or maybe-

Her spiraling mind stopped dead in its tracks when she walked into the bedroom and saw him curled up into a ball, on top of the covers, with his back towards her.

“Matty?” She called out softly.

She watched him jolt in surprise and then slowly unfurl himself and turn around. “Oh, hi. Sorry, didn’t hear you come in.” He smiled.

Initially, her own lips mirrored his, smiling back. But as she walked closer to the bed, her expression changed. “Have you…been crying?”

He cast his eyes away from her when she sat on the edge of the bed, studying his face closely.

“No.” He muttered.

Her silence made his pathetic lie feel uncomfortable so he corrected himself “yes.”

She kicked her shoes off, letting them drop to the floor then climbed onto the bed next to him.

“Why, baby? What’s wrong?”

The simple feeling of her gentle voice enveloping him was already calming. He looked up at her briefly, feeling a bit vulnerable and looking away again. He shrugged. “Just one of those days, you know?”

“Oh, honey….why didn’t you call me? Would’ve come home sooner if I’d known.” She moved to straddle his body, placing a leg on either side of him.

“I’m fine, really. Just needed to get it all out of my system.” He blushed as he felt her get closer to him.

“Would you like a hug?”

His face lit up. “Yes, please.”

He rested his head on her shoulder, letting her wrap her arms around him and hold him tight.

“Love you.” She whispered into his ear and watched him smile.

After a long pause, Matty pulled away, resting his back against the headboard. “Thank you. Needed that.” His face looked lighter. Better.

She brought her hand to his face, running the her knuckles gently down his face. “Been thinkin about you all day, you know….ever since you got out of the shower this morning, actually.” The slightest hint of mischief in her voice.

Matty pulled her closer into his lap, kissing her lips. He felt her smile into the kiss.

His hands rested at her hips while hers wrapped around his neck. Gradually, she began to feel his hips shake underneath her. Bulge forming in his pants as their kiss grew more and more urgent.

“Hmm…someone’s needy.” She whispered, holding a laugh when his hips buckled particularly hard.

“Mhm…I umm- yeah” he nodded slightly. “Need you.” His head dropped.

“Want me to take care of you?”

He wasn’t sure if she was asking to check for the go-ahead, or to embarrass him, or maybe a bit of both but he gave in willingly.

“Please?”

“Ooo, and he’s so polite about, too.” She chuckled and watched as his face and neck flushed in red.

“I- umm, I know it’s silly, but, I just wanna-“ he bit his lip, nervously. “Wanna feel close to you.” His voice softer, as if confessing a secret.

She swore she could physically feel her heart melt right in her chest. “Nothing silly about that….” She slowly lifted herself off his lap and moved to get off the bed.

“Five seconds, okay? Let me just shed some of those layers. Get into comfy clothes. Yeah?”

***

She had not only changed into comfortable clothes, but she’d gone back and undressed him too. The feeling of her hands ghosting over his body, her fingers at his waist pulling down his joggers first, and then his underwear, her nails lightly scratching his chest as she took off his shirt…he was already desperate. She’d been so gentle the whole time, handling him like he’s made of glass. It was comforting right up until she’d taken his hardened cock in her hand and moved her palm over it at the slowest, lightest speed. Her touch was now frustrating.

Every time her fingers reached his tip, he would let out a soft gasp or whisper a curse word.

Her eyes were fixed at his torso. Watching his chest rise and fall, his stomach tighten at just the right touch. She could easily get lost in his tattoos and keep this up for hours.

Re-directing her attention to his face, she saw the desperation in his eyes. “That feel good, my love?”

He nodded repeatedly, already unable to speak.

“Let’s make this even better.”

Matty wondered what she meant by that before he felt her loosen her grip on him whining slightly at the loss of her touch and earning himself a head shake and a “so needy,” from her.

He lifted his head to see her pull the bedside drawer open and take out her small bullet vibrator.

He put his hand out when she came back to bed, offering to help her out. It wouldn’t have been the first time. They’d used a myriad of toys in bed before and she always appreciated that he relished in the experience.

She watched his hands shake and laughed. “It’s not for me.” The words were hardly out of her mouth, and before he could process them, she’d held the toy to his tip and click it on.

“Fuck!” Matty’s entire body twitched at the foreign feeling.

“How’s it feel, babe?”

“Uhhhh- fuck- so good.”

She smiled, satisfied with herself as she watched his breathing rise and his eyes roll back.

“Oh- my- fuckkkk.” He tipped his head back, his curls swaying around his face, framing it beautifully. He looked like an Angel figure right out of a renaissance painting. He drank it in with her eyes, her heart pounding.

His hips bucked and swung from side to side. Normally, his moves were rhythmic and intentional. So, to watch him lose control right in front of her was an accompaniment that she would remember for a long time.

“I- um- I feel-“ he struggled for words. “It’s intense! So- intense!”

“What’s your color, honey?” She asked, legitimately concerned that she may have taken it too far.

“G-green. Promise. I’m okay.” His eyes closed, giving into the pleasure, his mouth hung open.

But, he immediately sat up, whimpering when he felt her pull the toy away.

She giggled at his big brown eyes begging her.

“Hold on a minute, gosh. Impatient boy. I just have a bit of an idea that’ll make things better.”

She dug back into the same drawer, pulling out the lube bottle and squirting a tiny bit into her hand. She coated the toy with a thin layer, and then applied the remains to his cock, making him flinch and hiss.

“Is that better?” She asked as she put the vibrator back on him.

“Shit! Yeah- better- umm- thank you.”

Now she felt more confident moving it around without hurting him. Flicked her wrist in a couple

Of different directions trying for different positions. “Do you like this better? Or maybe that?”

“Holy FUCK! He swallowed, his body hovering over the bed. “Umm… yeah. C-could you- uh- bit higher please?” He would be a bit embarrassed if the pleasure hadn’t completely overtaken his mind.

“So…like that?” She adjusted her hand and heard him moan in response, confirming for her that she’d found the ideal placement. “Good, but, Matty, if you don’t stop moving around I’m gonna have to tie you up, alright? Keep those hands away from the toy.”

Something about the fact that she’d called him by his name, and not one of the millions of nicknames she often used for him, shook him to the core. He couldn’t process or understand the mix of feelings that bubbled with in him. Sadness that she hadn’t used a term of endearment. A bit of a turn on that her tone was firm. Guilt for making her need to warn him. His head, which was already filled with overwhelming pleasure, felt foggy.

“C-could I- umm- hold your hand? Please?”

“Nope. Stay still.”

And he tried. He really, really tried. But it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do it on purpose, she upped the intensity of the toy and ran her free hand up his thighs and his hands moved as a reflex.

Without letting up on the vibrator, she reached over and retrieved the handcuffs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… please! I promise!” he cried out.

“Here. Hold the vibrator to your dick while cuff your wrists.”

He couldn’t really argue at this point.

“Okay. Now give it back to me and hands over your head.”

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. She simply kissed his cheek.

“Hey, babe?” She smiled at him.

“Yeah?”

“You ready to cum?”

“So- so ready.” He shook his head and heard the metal cuffs rattle.

“Alright, Angel. Go ahead. Let go for me.”

As soon as the words left her lips, he did. Instantly. Moaning and shaking from head to curling toes. The release tore through his entire body, expelling all the tension that had built up.

Soon, though, the pleasure turned into excruciating pain when she refused to let up on the vibrator.

He begged and screamed for her. “Sensitive- it’s too sensitive- please- I- please!!”

“Be a good boy and take it, baby.” Her voice calm in response to his screams.

“I’m trying! Im trying! It hurts. Please- no more!”

“It’s gonna feel good again soon. Just take it.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Ow. It’s- okay. I’ll take it.” He mumbled slurring his words. “Wanna be good for you.”

He waited for an assurance or a word of praise, but none came. Instead, pleasure did. She was right, it was getting good again. “Please? May I please cum again?”

“Oh really?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Thought you wanted me to stop just a minute ago.”

“Wanna cum, please?”

“What happens if I stop now?”

He felt the wave of pleasure build up again. “No, no, no please! Please don’t stop! Please let me

Cum!!!”

“Go ahead, my love. Cum for me.”

Matty finally relaxed his body and his mind, melting into the mattress as pleasure shook him, finishing all over his own stomach.

His body dropped with sweat. Ears ringing. Damp hair clinging to his face. Eyes too heavy to keep open.

She sat still for a moment. Taking in the sight of him as his breathing slowly began to drop.

“Matty, honey?”

Her voice sounded faint and distant but he was vaguely aware of it. With considerable effort, he eventually opened his eyes.

“Are you with me?”

He attempted to nod but he was too exhausted. It was easier to smile.

“Good, I’m gonna run into the bathroom real quick. Okay?”

Moments later, he felt her wipe him down with a wet cloth before she hovered over him to unlock his handcuffs.

He kept as much of his eyes open as he could to keep looking at her pretty face. But he was concerned when he saw her frown.

“Matty, you’re bleeding…”

She took his wrists in her hands examining them.

His arms felt heavy. Almost numb. But she helped him sit up and he eventually saw that the

corners of the metal cuffs had dug into his skin when he strained against the bed in his movements.

“You didn’t feel that?”

He shook his head. A small “no.” Left his lips. Finally his first syllable.

“Well, we’re not using those ever again.” He tossed the cuffs into the trash.

“Gonna need to tend to that immediately. Let’s get you into the bathroom.”

“Tired.”

“I know, baby, but I’m not gonna let you sit there with bleeding wrists, you get that. Yeah?”

“Will you kiss me if I go into the bathroom with you?”

“Even better. I’ll kiss you right now.”

***

She walked back into their bedroom, snack tray in hand.

Matty’s still slightly wet hair was beginning to dry after his shower. He sat in bed again, on fresh sheets, in his boxers. She’d brought him a warm beverage but she still felt uneasy as she saw that he was shivering.

“Matty! You’re cold!”

“Am not.” He mumbled. Reaching for a snack from the assortment she’d brought him.

He was still feeling a bit hazy and disoriented, but a bit better now that his limbs no longer felt like jello.

She shook her head. Sometimes he acted like a todddler.

She reached into his drawer to find him some clothes, smiling to herself when she spotted the skeleton pajama set. She knew he preferred to sleep in just his boxers most of the time. But she also knew that this set was the coziest thing he owned and that every time he put it on, it took a lot to take them back off.

“C’mon. Sit up for me.”

A smile grew on his face when she saw what she’d brought him. He set down his mug and let her dress him. Not that hd wasn’t perfectly capable. He just liked when she fussed over him sometimes. It made him feel protected. Like he could let his guard down and let someone else do the worrying and the thinking for him. Even if it was just for the night.

***

“How do you feel?” She whispered in his ear as she pulled him into her arms.

“All better, thank you.”

“Still sad?”

“Not anymore. But I kinda feel like saying yes if it’ll get me more loving.”

She chuckled, pulling the duvet over them. “You act like I don’t love on you all the time.”

Matty said nothing, instead, he zoned out.

“Hey, Matty, what is it?”

His face turned red instantly. “It’s nothin.”

“Tell me. What’s going on? What’re you thinking about?”

“Just…..well, ummm- was I- good?” His lips trembled as the words he spoke left them.

“Pardon?”

“I always wanna be- good for you. Never wanna make you mad.” He buried his face into her chest. “Wanna make you happy. are you…happy with me? Know I fucked up and I-“

“Hey, hey, Matty. Look at me. Look at me!” She ran her fingers through his hair.

“You were a good boy tonight. You always are. The best. My skeleton man.”

She dipped her head low and kissed him.

[duckies27]

@demis-alted , the man asked to be tagged so you better not complain if tears come

~~Spoilers for Episode 37 of Grotethe~~

Trigger warning: slight suicidal thoughts? Maybe?

He went in as a joke. Of course he did, he would never actually go into a coffin without just being silly. After Carol, after everything, it has been so hard to have a genuine smile. His neck still burned from the arrows, his body still weak from the blood lost. But now that he was in it, it felt like home.

He couldn't explain it, it just...felt right. Maybe it was the thoughts growing stronger, the will to live just gone from his body, he wasn't sure, not anymore. It strangely took all of his energy to push back out.

Make it jokey Haney, you have to make it funny.

Of course, on his way out, he stepped on a nail. Pain shot through his body, the last 1 hp he had drained in a moment. Chip fell limp on the ground, his mind in Limbo. Everything felt warm. He could almost feel her hands reaching for him.

Meanwhile, Ellga was panicking. Ever since Carol had died, she had been feeling a lot of emotions she wasn't used to. This was one of them. They were already pushing their luck with being here, she couldn't remember her way back to her own house, and worse of all

HER BASICALLY FATHER IS DEAD KN THE FLOOR!

The vampire ran her hands across his neck, feeling no shallow breathing or heartbeat. Her eyes darted to Barney. They may have been butting heads, but he had spells that could save Chip, save him from his own stupidity. "Barney! You have to heal him!" Her voice cracked, tears briming in her eyes as she gripped the stupid shoodie she had made fun of silently for the past few weeks. She had never left her home after being turned, she knew nothing but riches and safety. Here, she was treated like her own person, with people who cared so much about her, enough to stick with her even after finding out she was a horrible monster. She had found genuine friends and even family.

She started to shake Chip harder. "Come beck!!! Come beck!!!" Her voice was shrill, the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. Last time she cried was during the turning process.

But she didn't want to think about that.

Barney gently pushed Ellga to Mathide, pulling out the book that now everyone recognized. It was the one thing he had, the one thing he could remember. His wrinkled hand reached out to gently touch Chip's shoulder as he muttered a spell.

"Chip....honey..."

"I'm coming Carol... don't wait for me..." He weakly muttered, only making Ellga cry harder as she shoved her face into Mathide's plumage.

"Chip, it isn't your time. You have to be there for them."

Before Chip could even fight, he suddenly shot up with a pained gasp. 5 hp, given by Barney of all people. As the cleric got up, he gave the same gift to Mathide, who rattled off some joke.

Everything was fuzzy, he didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be here, he wanted to be with Carol, this life held nothing fo-

His thoughts cut off as Ellga gripped onto him and weakly sobbed. This wasn't normal for her, tears or the hugging. He scooped her into his lap, gently rubbing her back. It's not his time...maybe because of her. He hadn't met the count yet, but Ellga had hooked onto him rather easily. Maybe he needed to stay to be her support, to be her father when she needed it most.

He'll stay for now. He kept her held as he stood, calming her down slowly just as his mother used to. "I'm alright, just a little stupid."

She hit his horn, but very gently. "Very stupid. Now put me down." When Chip set her to the ground, she gripped his hand for dear life, but wiped her remaining tears.

"Let's keep going. We still have a reason to be here."

[liv-andletdie]

Zelink Week 2024 - Blooming

Rating: General Audiences Fandoms: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Relationship: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda) @zelinkcommunity

Summary: Link and Zelda grow their garden together, looking forward to the future and glimpsing back at the past. Connected to "Fading"

Ao3 Link [x]

---

The sun beat down warm and golden against his neck. Hot rays breaking through the clouds, their fire tempered only by the cool spring breeze that danced through the trees. He could hear the leaves around him sing as the branches swayed in their chorus. 

Wiping a hand across the back of his neck, spreading the sweat collected there, Link moved to standing. Before him lay the new bed she had requested, all neat and tidy. Their locations precisely selected, rocks and weeds and roots carefully and thoroughly removed. The grass itself had been difficult to deal with, but Link had managed, finding a secluded corner of their little garden in which to lay it. 

He had just now finished the final preparations on the soil. Leaning against his shovel he called out towards the well. 

“I’m ready for you out here, Princess.” 

He heard a huff from the well mere seconds before her blonde head popped up over the stones. Green eyes shining with a mix of frustration and mirth. 

“I told you,” She placed a small tray on top of the ledge, green sprouts in little rows ready to be planted. “When it is just the two of us, you call me by my name.” She held her hand up over the stones, and holding back a smile, he took it pulling her the rest of the way out of the well. 

“Of course Your Highness, how can you ever forgive me oh Princess?” 

“Silly,” He watched as she rolled her emerald eyes at him, her head shaking fondly in a way that said ”What am I going to do with you?. She tried to hide her smile behind her free hand, her other still wrapped perfectly around his. Her palm was warm and soft. Slight ink stains lined her cuticles, her nails were short and clean, slightly bitten down. That was one of the things he’d had to relearn about her. That she bit her nails whilst taking notes - that she’d never grown out of the habit, even after her tutor would rap her knuckles as punishment. 

He’d also had to relearn how bitterly angry that made him. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, pulling her hand up to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss against her knuckles. “I’m silly alright.” 

A soft pink flush covered her face, cheeks, nose, ears, and neck. Everything was aglow. That was another thing he loved about her. Whilst he was so quiet, his emotions hidden very carefully against his chest, she was so alive! Every thought, feeling, and desire was written across her face as easy to read as a children’s picture book. It made her so easy to tease, it was almost not funny. 

Almost. 

“Link!” She squealed, trying her best to shield her face with one hand. “You can’t do that! I wasn’t ready! Oh by Hylia, you’re such a bully!” Laughing, he pulled her into a hug. Hiding her face against his neck, he could feel the heat of her burning through his clothes. 

“Alright, I’m sorry I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“NO! Don’t say that!” She clung to him tighter “You can keep saying those things you just… you just have to warn me first!” 

Her hair was tickling his nose. It didn’t used to do that. She had cut it a week or so ago. Link remembered coming home one night to see her sitting at their table, her small vanity mirror and a pair of scissors in her hands. She had already taken the majority of the length off but was evidently struggling to neaten up the back. She had looked up at him then, an unspoken question hanging in the air, and he had finished the job. 

Afterwards she had lit up, her bright eyes shining like stars as she ran her fingers through her now shoulder length locks. Words of thanks and adoration tumbling from her lips as she flicked her head back and forth, this way and that. It suited her. (mind you, a burlap sack would suit her. His Zelda just had a way of making everything she touched beautiful.) 

Pulling himself out of the memory, Link pressed a kiss to her temple. 

“Okay, I promise to give you adequate warning before I say something sappy. Deal?” Her response was muffled against his collar bone, but he could just make out a faint ”Deal.”

“Wonderful!” Link pulled away from her just enough to scoop up the tray of nursery plants she had brought with her. “Now, where are we planting these?”

🎕 

Botany, Link had come to relearn, was Zelda’s 2nd (3rd?) great love. Her first being the Ancient Sheikah tech that she worked on with Purah and Robbie. Purah was actually in the process of developing her own version of the Sheikah Slate. A fact that had ignited something inside of Zelda when she had first heard the elder (younger) woman’s plans. She hadn’t been able to stop talking about it for weeks afterwards. 

It had made for some truly entertaining dinner conversations. 

(He did hope that her 2nd great love was himself, but seeing the way she was looking at the little green sprouts in her hands, he was happy to settle for 3rd,) 

“So, in the future I hope to attempt to cross the Cool and Warm Safflina and see if it produces a plant with a resistance to both heat and cold - or if it will leave us with just a regular flower. But for now, I think I would like to plant our cuttings side by side and monitor their growth in relation to each other.” Zelda leant over the new bed, her knees just barely touching the upturned soil. “I think it’s best to plant the Safflina on this side here as it’s more likely to get the most sun. Which means that we can plant the Swift Violets and the Blue Nightshade here.” Link watched as she dug her fingers into the dirt, marking out exactly where she wanted each bud to go. “Nightshade seems to grow better in the dark afterall.”

He nodded along, laying out her trowel alongside several markers with the names of the chosen plants printed on them in her neat script. Next to him sat the nursery buds. 

“Where’s the Silent Princess going?” Link asked, scanning over the names she had written on the markers. It was odd of Zelda to leave out her favourite flower. 

She sat back on her haunches, brushing the soil from her fingers. 

“I had considered that,” her voice was measured, as if she was working through her words like a complicated mathematical problem, double checking her own work as she did it. “The specimen you found in … in my old study had shown remarkable signs of growth.” She paused and Link watched as she stuck her fingers back in the soil. Grounding herself, taking root. She was still here… but she sometimes had to remind herself of that fact. 

100 years is a long time after all. 

“However, I still have been unable to replicate those findings, or even discover how it was that it managed to survive as well as it did. More tests are necessary.” A fistfull of earth fell from her fingers, her eyes catching on the clumps of dirt as they tumbled over the ground. 

“Well then, it’s a good thing we got Hudson to build you that well huh?” Link scooted closer to her, his hand resting on the small of her back. She tilted towards his touch like a flower chasing the sun, her face pointed towards his. “Give you somewhere peaceful to work where I can’t distract you.” 

Like wiping a wound clean, her expression changed. The hurt she had been trying to hide washed away as she rested her forehead against his. Content and calm together in the dirt. 

🎕

The planting went quickly with the two of them working together. Rows were measured and small holes were dug into the bed an inch and a half apart. Then, mindful of the fragile roots and petals, the two lay the nursery sprouts into their new homes, before Zelda marked each row with their name. And then it was time to add the mulch. 

“Do you think the children would enjoy this part?” Zelda pondered, packing the earth around a stem of Swift Violets. 

“Playing in the dirt?” Link shrugged, “They’re kids. I think they’d love it.” 

Zelda’s school children, the budding future of Hyrule and her proudest achievement. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought of it. The children, following her like ducklings, listening intently as their favourite teacher explained what each flower did and how it grew. Four sets of hands digging in the dirt to help her plant more, a chorus of ”Miss Zelda, how does it know how to grow?” and “Miss Zelda, why is it green? filling the quiet of the garden. 

“You should bring them around.” He sprinkled more mulch. “Make it a field trip.” 

She turned to look at him, a shy smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “Would you be okay with that?” He nodded. 

“You can teach them about the flowers we’re growing, get them involved.” 

“We could even expand!” She jumped up, trying to get a better view of the space. “If the children like the flowers we could build another bed with vegetables! Imagine Link, we can get seeds and roots and they can see how everything grows, from beginning to harvest!” She was pacing now, hands flapping excitedly as if she was about to burst from all her emotions. “We could even build it at the school, so they can see it everyday and track their progress! Oh, and we can get them to build it! Of course we’ll do the hardest part, removing the roots and stones and whatnot. But they would get hands-on experience that may even encourage them to try growing things at home!” 

She was practically bouncing now, her smile shining brighter than the sun. He loved her like this, in her element, thriving. No longer trapped behind walls or prayers - forced to be something she wasn’t. Standing up, he took a step towards her, holding her frantic hands in his. 

“That sounds wonderful, Love.” He couldn’t help the beaming grin that took over him, his own excitement quickly growing to match hers. “And at harvest, we can make a meal for all the kids so they can eat what they’ve grown.” 

She sighed fondly, “Everything comes back to food with you.” 

“You like my cooking,” he swung their joined hands between them. “I think I could have been a chef in another life.” 

She laughed at that, a soft chirping giggle that made his heartbeat skip. “Why wait? You could open a cafe tomorrow. You’d have people flocking from every corner of Hyrule to come and taste your food.” 

“We’re very busy people, Zelda.” He clicked his tongue, “We’ve got children to teach and a garden to plant. I don’t know if I’ll have time.” 

Her giggles got fuller and brighter until she was laughing with her whole chest, her smile reaching happy and wide, her eyes glittering like jewels. He tugged her hands, pulling her closer as her laughter eased. 

“Silly,” She chuckled, letting go of his hands to cup his jaw. Her thumb petted at the soft skin under his eye. “You’re being silly.” 

“Oh I’m being silly alright.” He sighed, leaning his cheek into her palm, his expression getting serious. “Zelda, this is your warning. I’m about to say something very sappy. Ready?” 

She let out a chuckle before theatrically tossing her shoulders back, making a show of steadying her feet. “Alright, I’m ready now.” 

“I love you.” His hands found her waist, his fingers bunching up the fabric of her shirt. “Thank you for starting this garden with me.” 

Zelda took a deep breath, truly steading herself. “I love you too.” Silver tears lined her eyes as the two of them met in the middle. A soft kiss, a loving embrace, and as the two pulled apart he wiped that tear from her cheek 

“So, what should we plant for the kids? I can get some Pumpkin seeds from Kakariko, do you think they’d like that? 

Fin