#I have no life outside of this show right now

[solxamber]

stay w me in this one, kiss cam w the first years 🙂‍↕

Kiss Cam with: The First Years

a/n; anon you brain is so big!! i got so happy??? when i saw this?? i kinda blacked out for a while and ended up writing it

Ace Trappola

The arena was packed, the air buzzing with energy as the Magift team dominated the field. You were sandwiched between Deuce and Ace, the latter chugging a soda while obnoxiously yelling at the players.

“Ace, they can’t hear you,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as he yelled, “PASS THE DISC, YOU IDIOT!”

“I don’t care! They need to know how bad they’re screwing up!” Ace shot back, waving his drink wildly.

Deuce leaned over, clearly mortified. “Can you not embarrass us in front of the whole school?”

Ace just smirked. “What? Embarrassed to be seen with your cooler, more handsome best friend?”

You snorted. “Handsome? In your dreams, Trappola.”

Ace turned to you, feigning offense. “Oh, so I’m not handsome? Guess I’ll have to let the kiss cam settle this one.”

“What does that even mean?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

As if the universe decided to spite you, the lights dimmed, and a giant heart frame appeared on the jumbotron.

You froze. “No. No way.”

Ace leaned forward, his grin turning devious. “Oh yes.”

Deuce, ever the supportive friend, burst into laughter, slapping his knee. “This is the best day of my life.”

Meanwhile, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “This has to be a mistake.”

The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Come on, lovebirds! Don’t be shy! Show us some NRC spirit!”

“I’m going to die,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

“Not without giving the people what they want,” Ace teased, turning to you with an exaggerated smirk. “Come on, for school pride.”

You glared at him, your cheeks burning. “Ace Trappola, I will—”

Before you could finish, Ace leaned in, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Relax. It’s just a little kiss, right?”

Your breath hitched. The crowd was chanting louder now, and your heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the embarrassment.

“Just a little kiss,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

And then it happened.

When his lips met yours, the crowd erupted into cheers, whistles, and applause. Time seemed to stop as the noise around you faded into a distant hum.

His lips were warm and surprisingly gentle, and the faint taste of soda lingered as he pulled back, his face flushed but grinning like an idiot.

“Well,” he said, his voice slightly breathless, “that wasn’t so bad, huh?”

You blinked at him, your brain short-circuiting. “You… You just kissed me!”

“You kissed me back,” he shot back, his grin widening.

Deuce, still laughing like a lunatic, clapped Ace on the back. “Congratulations, Trappola. You finally grew a pair.”

Ace turned to the jumbotron, where your kiss was being replayed in slow motion. “Man, we look good together,” he said smugly, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

You shoved him, your face burning hotter than the sun. “Don’t push your luck.”

The rest of the game passed in a blur. Ace was insufferably smug, Deuce wouldn’t stop teasing you, and your heart refused to calm down.

As the crowd filed out of the arena, Ace caught your hand, stopping you just outside the gates.

“Hey,” he said, his usual grin replaced with something softer. “So, uh… about earlier.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like you. Like, a lot. And this is not just because of the kiss cam thing.”

You stared at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Ace…”

“I mean, no pressure or anything!” he added quickly, his face turning red. “But, you know, if you did want to be more than friends, I wouldn’t mind…”

You smiled, stepping closer and leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re such an idiot.”

His jaw dropped. “Wait—does that mean…?”

“It means yes, Ace,” you said, laughing. “But you better not let this go to your head.”

Ace grinned, grabbing your hand. “Too late.”

Spoiler: Ace tells everyone at school, and now half the campus thinks the kiss cam was staged. You’re stuck with him, but honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Deuce Spade

The stadium buzzed with excitement, the crowd alive with cheers as NRC's Magift team scored another point. You sat beside Deuce, who was yelling encouragement so earnestly you swore the players might actually hear him through sheer determination.

“Come on! You’ve got this! Pass it—yes!” he shouted, punching the air.

You couldn’t help but smile. Deuce’s enthusiasm was contagious, even if he had accidentally knocked over your popcorn in his excitement earlier.

“You’re going to lose your voice,” you teased, nudging his arm.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied with a grin. “This is important!”

What wasn’t important, however, was the dreaded kiss cam that appeared on the giant screen moments later.

The heart-shaped frame zoomed in on various couples, each one receiving cheers as they nervously or enthusiastically complied. You laughed, thinking nothing of it—until your own face appeared on the screen.

You froze. “Oh no.”

Deuce, oblivious, kept clapping until the heart frame zoomed out to reveal him beside you. His face turned crimson so fast you worried he might combust.

“W-What?!” he stammered, pointing at the screen as if denying its existence might make it disappear.

The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers, the announcer’s voice booming. “Come on, lovebirds! Let’s see some NRC spirit!”

“Deuce, say something,” you hissed, your face burning.

“I—uh—I—” he stuttered, looking everywhere but at you. “They—uh—made a mistake! Right?!”

The announcer wasn’t letting up. “Looks like someone’s shy! Don’t leave us hanging!”

Deuce looked at you helplessly, his face a mix of panic and mortification. “I-I’m so sorry about this!”

You sighed, your own heart racing. “It’s fine, Deuce. Just a quick kiss, and they’ll move on.”

He nearly choked. “A kiss?!”

“It’s not a marriage proposal!” you shot back, trying to keep your cool despite your own nerves.

He nodded frantically, visibly psyching himself up. “O-Okay! Let’s do this!”

Deuce leaned in slowly, his eyes shut so tightly you thought he might be praying for divine intervention. His lips brushed your cheek in the softest, most hesitant kiss imaginable before he pulled back like he’d just touched a live wire.

The crowd cheered wildly, but Deuce wasn’t done. In his panic, he’d miscalculated the kiss angle, and his forehead accidentally bumped yours as he pulled away.

“Oh no! Are you okay?” he asked, horrified.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your nervousness melting away at his sheer awkwardness. “I’m fine, Deuce.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again, his hands hovering like he wanted to check for injuries.

You smiled and, feeling bold, leaned forward to kiss his cheek in return. The crowd’s cheers doubled, and Deuce looked at you like you’d just announced he’d won the lottery.

“Um,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “That was… uh… nice.”

You laughed. “It’s just a kiss, Deuce.”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a kiss.”

Deuce spent the rest of the game sneaking glances at you, his face perpetually red. By the time the match ended, you were sure he’d worn a hole in the ground with all his nervous foot-tapping.

As the two of you walked back to the dorms, he finally cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I… I really like you.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden confession. “Deuce—”

“I mean it!” he said quickly, his words tumbling out like he’d been holding them back for ages. “I’ve liked you for a while, but I didn’t know how to tell you, and the kiss cam just kind of—”

You cut him off with a quick kiss to his lips, effectively silencing his rambling.

“Does that answer your question?” you asked, smiling at his stunned expression.

Deuce nodded, his face practically glowing. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

Spoiler: Ace finds out and teases Deuce relentlessly, but Deuce doesn’t care. He’s too busy walking you to class and holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jack Howl

The stadium was alive with energy, the roar of the crowd reverberating through the stands as NRC's Magift team dominated the field. You sat beside Jack, who had insisted you attend because "It's good to support our school." Truthfully, you didn’t mind—watching the game with Jack was its own kind of fun.

He sat rigidly in his seat, tail swishing lightly as his sharp eyes tracked every play on the field. You chuckled at how serious he looked.

"Jack, relax. It's just a game," you teased.

"It's not just a game," he replied, his ears flicking. "This is about teamwork, discipline, and—"

He stopped mid-sentence when the crowd erupted in cheers. You both looked up to the big screen, only to see a giant pink heart frame around… you and Jack.

Cue Panic.

“Wait, what?!” you exclaimed, your face instantly heating up.

Jack’s ears flattened against his head as his eyes widened in sheer panic. “Oh no.”

The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Looks like we’ve got a shy couple! Let’s hear it for them, folks!”

The crowd cheered louder, and you groaned. “Oh, come on…”

Jack was frozen in place, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. His tail puffed up slightly as he asked, “They’ll move on, right? They’ll pick someone else?”

You glanced at the screen, seeing your own mortified expression reflected back at you. “Not unless we do something.”

Jack’s face turned impossibly red. “You mean…?”

“Yes, Jack,” you said, trying to suppress your own embarrassment. “A kiss. Just a small one! It’s no big deal.”

Jack looked at you like you’d just asked him to leap off a cliff. “I can’t! What if it’s weird? Or awkward? Or—”

“Jack,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s just a game. Let’s get it over with.”

His ears twitched nervously as he nodded. “Okay. But, uh… where?”

“Where?” you repeated, confused.

“I mean, do I… your cheek? Your forehead? I—I don’t want to—”

“Jack!” you laughed, despite your own nerves. “Cheek is fine.”

He nodded again, his tail wagging nervously behind him as he leaned in. Just as his lips barely brushed your cheek, the crowd erupted in cheers—only for Jack to try to jerk back so fast that his forehead bumped yours.

“Ow!” you yelped, rubbing your head.

“Are you okay?!” he asked, panicking.

“I’m fine,” you said, trying not to laugh at his flustered expression. “But you might’ve just knocked me into next week.”

The announcer’s voice interrupted. “Let’s hear it for our lovebirds! What a show!”

You both sank further into your seats, faces burning. Jack mumbled an apology, looking like he wanted to crawl under the stadium.

“You know,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “You could’ve just kissed me properly.”

Jack froze, his eyes snapping to yours. “What?”

“Yeah,” you teased, grinning. “You’re already on the big screen. Might as well make it count.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his ears flicking nervously. Then, to your surprise, he leaned in again—this time more confidently—and pressed a quick, warm kiss to your lips.

The crowd lost it, cheering so loudly you could barely hear yourself think.

When Jack pulled back, his face was crimson, but there was a small, shy smile on his lips. “There. Was… was that okay?”

You smiled back, your heart racing. “More than okay.”

Jack spent the rest of the game sitting a little closer to you, his tail wagging uncontrollably. As you left the stadium, he finally cleared his throat.

“So… does this mean we’re—uh… dating?” he asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed, grabbing his hand. “What do you think?”

Jack’s tail wagged even harder. “I think I’m really lucky.”

Spoiler: Ace, Deuce and Epel find out later and tease Jack mercilessly, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy walking you to class with his hand in yours.

Epel Felmier

The game was electric, with the crowd roaring as NRC held a narrow lead over RSA. You sat near the bench, cheering loudly for one player in particular. Epel was a blur of determination on the field, his every move brimming with adrenaline and a grit that made your heart race just watching him.

During halftime, the players jogged off the field to hydrate and strategize. Epel wiped the sweat from his brow and spotted you by the bench. You held up an electrolyte drink with a proud smile.

“Here, you earned it!” you said, handing him the bottle.

He accepted it with a quick grin, gulping it down like a man dying of thirst. “Thanks. Didja see that shot I made earlier?”

“I did!” you replied enthusiastically. “You’re playing amazing out there!”

Your encouragement had him standing a little taller, his eyes shining with a mix of pride and affection. “Well, I ain’t done yet. Gotta show those RSA guys what we’re made of.”

But before he could head back to the huddle, the crowd’s noise shifted. You both turned toward the massive screen above the field, where a familiar heart-shaped frame surrounded… the two of you.

Epel froze for a fraction of a second, his flushed face turning an even deeper shade of red. You stared at the screen in surprise, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“Is that… the kiss cam?” you muttered.

Epel glanced back at his team’s huddle, where his teammates were laughing and giving him exaggerated thumbs-ups. The crowd began chanting, egging him on.

In that moment, with the adrenaline from the game still coursing through his veins and the giddy rush of your praise in his chest, Epel made a snap decision.

Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you—hard, fast, and with enough confidence to leave you absolutely stunned.

The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles as Epel pulled back, his violet eyes sparkling mischievously. “Thanks for the drink,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just turned your world upside down.

Then, with one last grin, he jogged back to his team, leaving you standing there, breathless and staring after him.

The rest of the game was a blur. Epel was on fire, scoring two more goals and securing the win for NRC. The crowd was ecstatic, the team celebrating wildly, but your mind was stuck on that kiss.

When the post-game frenzy finally settled, Epel approached you by the bleachers. He was still sweaty and flushed, but his usual nervousness was nowhere to be seen. The adrenaline from the game still seemed to fuel him as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Hey,” he started, his accent thick and his voice a little raspy. “About that kiss earlier…”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart pounding. “What about it?”

Epel took a deep breath, his violet eyes locking onto yours. “I ain’t just kissin’ people for fun, ya know? I… I like you. A lot. And I’ve been wantin’ to say somethin’ for ages, but I didn’t know how. Guess the kiss cam kinda forced my hand.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his honesty. “So what are you saying, Epel?”

“I’m sayin’... would ya go out with me?” he asked, his cheeks turning red again.

You pretended to think for a moment, but the truth was, you already knew your answer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Epel’s face lit up, his grin wide and genuine. “Really?!”

“Really,” you said, laughing.

He fist-pumped the air triumphantly before quickly trying to play it cool. “Well, uh, that’s great. I’ll, uh, plan somethin’ nice, alright?”

“Looking forward to it,” you replied, your smile as wide as his.

The kiss cam video was all over campus the next day, much to Epel’s embarrassment and your amusement. Still, neither of you could deny how it sparked something wonderful between you.

And yet, every time someone teased him about it, Epel would just grin and shrug. “What can I say? I go for what I want.”

Sebek Zigvolt

The Magift stadium was loud and lively, the crowd cheering wildly as NRC battled RSA in a fierce match. You sat next to Sebek, who was practically vibrating with excitement. Not for the game, mind you, but for the honor of cheering for his young master.

“Do you see that?!” Sebek shouted, practically jumping out of his seat. “The precision! The sheer grace! Lord Malleus is unmatched on the field!”

You smiled, resting your chin on your hand. “Yeah, Sebek, I see it. You’ve mentioned it about... ten times now.”

“Only ten?!” He gasped, scandalized. “I must rectify this immediately—”

Before he could continue his speech, the crowd erupted into cheers. Confused, you looked up at the massive screen, only to freeze.

There, framed in a gigantic pink heart, were you and Sebek.

“What… what is this madness?!” Sebek’s voice boomed over the crowd noise, his face quickly turning beet red.

“It’s the kiss cam,” you explained, already feeling the heat creeping up your neck.

Sebek blinked at you, utterly baffled. “Kiss cam? What nonsense is this?!”

The announcer chimed in cheerfully. “Looks like we’ve got a lively one, folks! Give the crowd what they want!”

The audience clapped and whistled, clearly entertained by Sebek’s outburst. Meanwhile, you wished you could melt into the ground.

“Sebek, we’re on the big screen,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low. “Just a quick kiss, and they’ll move on!”

Sebek recoiled as if you’d suggested dueling Malleus. “What?! A kiss? In public? In front of—of all these people?”

“Yes!” you snapped. “It’s not that big of a deal!”

“But—! But—!” Sebek sputtered, his hands flailing in an uncharacteristically awkward display. “I cannot—this is—HOW DARE THEY IMPOSE SUCH A THING?"

The crowd was relentless, chanting louder as Sebek grew more flustered.

“Sebek,” you sighed, leaning closer to him. “If you don’t just do it, they’ll keep us up there forever.”

His eyes widened, darting between you and the screen. “I—fine! But only to end this nonsense!”

Sebek sat up stiffly, his face as red as his dorm uniform. Slowly, he leaned toward you… only to stop halfway, completely frozen.

“Sebek,” you whispered, trying not to laugh at his deer-in-headlights expression. “You’re overthinking it. Just a little peck.”

He shut his eyes tightly, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “For the honor of the young master.” Then, with the precision of someone about to execute a high-level spell, he leaned in and pressed the briefest kiss imaginable to your cheek.

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Sebek immediately pulled back, clutching his chest like he’d just fought a dragon.

“Well, that was…” You paused, trying to find the right word. “Anticlimactic.”

Sebek glared at you, still blushing furiously. “What more do you want?! I have upheld this ridiculous tradition to the best of my ability!”

You smirked, leaning closer. “Oh, come on. You’re supposed to kiss me on the lips.”

“WHAT?!” Sebek practically shouted, earning another wave of laughter from the crowd.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” you teased, leaning in just a bit more.

Sebek’s brain seemed to short-circuit for a moment, but before you could follow through on your teasing threat, he surprised you by leaning in and kissing you properly.

It was quick and clumsy but sincere, and when he pulled back, the people sitting around you erupted into wild cheers.

Sebek, meanwhile, looked like he was about to faint. “There. Are you satisfied now?!”

You laughed, touching your lips. “Actually, yeah. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

For the rest of the game, Sebek sat ramrod straight, refusing to look at you.

When the match ended and you both walked back to campus, he finally broke the silence. “That… that was purely for practical purposes!”

You grinned. “Sure, Sebek. Whatever you say.”

He glanced at you, his blush returning in full force. “It—it meant nothing!”

But the way his hand brushed against yours—and stayed there—told a very different story.

Masterlist

[vicsy]

Max's phone has been on mute for a week now but Daniel's message comes through regardless. He singles it out through the endless blocks of notifications, patting his still damp hair with a fluffy towel.

hey did they show you the vid yet?

Max breaks into a smile, his whole face creasing when he catches his reflection in the mirror by the bathroom door. He taps on the screen with one finger, stringing together a response.

are you going to ask if you looked good in it? or what

Daniel doesn't make him wait. Max is tugging on a t-shirt when a bunch of middle finger emojis flood his screen. He picks up his phone off the bedside table and disconnects the charger cable. Another message from Daniel pops up.

ya little shit I knew 4th title will get to your head

It's Max's turn to take a page out of Daniel's book and abuse those middle finger emojis before he actually replies, dropping the towel on the floor next to the bed.

of course it was maybe 7/10 I'm being nice because you were very nice to me

Daniel reacts to his message with a broken heart emoji, which is pretty advanced for him. Max stands in the middle of his hotel room, phone in hand, watching the typing dots appear and disappear like his life depends on it.

you wound me Maxy I'm never not nice to you anyway wanted to send you something extra

It's a video. Not a long one. Max watches a file pop up and the download starts. The preview looks just like Daniel from the one he saw already — same outfits, same cap, his scruffy beard; same look on his face reserved for Max and Max only. It leaves him confused and rightfully exasperated. He types, watching a progression circle overlayed over the video fill out almost completely:

you just want me to have your part so I can tell you how beautiful you are?

A smile inadvertently tugs up the corner of his lips. Daniel won't see it but Max wishes he would. Not like wishing is ever enough.

Daniel sends him another message as the video finally loads.

just watch it, Maxy promise it's a banger

Max hits play.

It starts off the same. Daniel's curls are peeking from under the cap as he talks and Max's eyes linger. His voice scratches the parts of Max's brain that have been permanently altered over the years Daniel spent by his side. He's managed to learn most of Daniel's heartfelt speech by heart, memorise the minuscule changes of his expression; all the meaning hidden from naked eye but glaring into Max's soul though Daniel's gaze, warm and achingly familiar.

"You're the man," his recording says, his tone identical. Then Daniel licks his lips instead of following a script Max expects. His heart somersaults in his chest in anticipation. Daniel says, then, staring directly at him as if they're not worlds apart but sitting face to face: "And I love you."

Max blanches. On the screen, Daniel shakes his head and laughs, something evasively fond about the crow's feet around his eyes appearing more visible than ever.

"Yeah, no, they can't use this. Can't let them have this one now, can we? Imagine the scandal. I'll do another," Max's mind goes through a rapid meat grinder. The hand holding his phone become cold like he's just been dunked into an ice bath and plucked out just to be thrown on the scorching hot desert sand in Qatar. "This one is just for you, Max. Yeah, um."

He parks his ass on a chair. Barely manages not to miss it, pulled down by the gravity that exists outside of his control and the gravity of Daniel's words. Max's thumb hovers on the rewind button, but phone Daniel speaks up again, looking down. The video twitches from side to side like his hand was shaking as he was recording. Max doesn't miss it. Or maybe it's that his hands aren't steady when they're not clutching the steering wheel.

"Right. I'll be sending this later. So you get double the love," Daniel makes himself sound intentionally goofy, plays it down. Not his best attempt. Max's grip on the phone becomes crushing; Daniel grip on his heart is just as tight. Daniel removes his cap, puts it aside and passes fingers through the mess of his curls. To Max, it's like a kick to the ribs. When on-screen Daniel carries on, his voice grows thick. "Kinda wish I was there but. Sticks and stones, Max. I'm so fucking proud of you. And I, uh. I really mean it. Everything. So, yeah. I'll stop blabbering now," Daniel looks away from the camera for a moment. Blinks, so hard, like something's gotten into his eyes. There's static filtering through the speaker of Max's phone. Then Daniel looks back and Max can't fathom the glint in his eyes. He says, with a smile so impossibly tender, saluting Max with his cap: "Fourth in a row, huh? Go enjoy yourself for me, champ."

The video cuts off.

Max stares at the screen. He doesn't hit replay or lock his phone. But he wants to. Max taps on Daniel's name at the top instead, misses the button he needs and ends up opening his contact photo. It's an older one — Daniel is holding up three fingers, pulling a funny face. He's somewhere sunny and bright. Max keeps on staring, stunned and flayed open, until it all hits him with renewed force.

His frantic call to Daniel goes through without a hitch. He picks up on a second ring and Max jumps the start, just this once.

"Daniel–"

He stumbles. It's unnerving, as if he's stalled his car which hasn't happened in years. Max can't manage to get a word past the lump in his throat. And it's all futile because Daniel beats him to the finish line. And, for one, Max is glad it's him.

"No, wait. Wait, Max. Hold your horses. You come to Perth or, like, I can fly out to Monaco when the season's over," Daniel sucks in a hard breath. For as long as he doesn't speak, Max keeps his breathless silence, waiting. Daniel clears his throat, his voice soft and measured in Max's ear. He hangs on to Daniel's every word. "We're gonna do this the right way. I just– yeah, I just had to let you know. In case someone else was gonna convince you otherwise. Or whatever, ya know?"

Max makes a noise, something between a snicker and a sob. It punches out of him and it's a little embarrassing but who gives a shit when Daniel's words are stuck on a loop In Max's brain. Couldn't ever be anyone else to make his mind race on a track of its own.

"You should know," he starts. On the other side of the line, Daniel emits a similar noise to the one that clawed its way up Max's throat. Max screws his eyes shut, then opens them quickly, his vision fuzzy. He looks down at his feet, one sock missing. Presses his phone firmer to his ear, trying to bridge the insurmountable distance dividing him and Daniel, hopping over the chokehold of overarching emotions. "After all this years, you know. I don't listen to what other people say. It's a bit of shit timing, Daniel."

Daniel's chuckle is wobbly. So is Max. From the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

"Yeah, tough luck, I know," he says. He's not home, by the sound of it. Max has lost track of the timezones since they can't even share one, not anymore. Daniel sounds more like himself when he asks: "Still. I reckon you enjoyed the video?"

Max doesn't speak for a length. He thinks it over and over — and I love you and I love you and I love you. Thinks how much shit has burned down the line; how Daniel's dreams became flammable the exact moment Max's aspirations wrapped themselves in layers and layers of fireproof armour.

With a hand laid over his sternum where Daniel can't see, Max says, precariously balancing his tone:

"Yes, Daniel. You indeed looked very lovely on my screen."

It's worth tiptoeing around the subject. For all of Max's reticence, his joke lands where he wants it to. Daniel's laugh is akin to a sound of a dozen champagne bottles popping, fizzling, all of it pouring over Max's body and soaking him through.

"Thanks a bunch," in the aftermath, Daniel gets eerily quiet. Then he repeats, with airtight conviction: "I mean it."

And I love you, Max recalls. The words stick to his tongue, his breath hitching, twisting knots inside his chest. It doesn't feel fair. He rubs his knuckles into his eyes, phone smushed between his shoulder and cheek, until all Max sees is a patches of black interspersed with made up visions of the sun setting over a house with Daniel's name on it.

"I know," Max says, wispy. "But you shouldn't fly to Monaco."

"Uh, Max?" Daniel calls out to him, cautious. Max can imagine the exact look on his face. "Not following you."

"I'm going to come to Australia," Max barely avoids his voice breaking. A handful more days and Daniel will cease to be just a recording on his phone; a voice in his ear. A presence under his skin. "To you."

"Alright," Daniel echoes after a pause. "Whatever you want, Max. I'll stay put."

"Daniel, and," Max's heart pounds against his ribs, threatening to break his bones, but the enormity of raw feeling negates all the pain that comes with it. He swallows, blinks once and the clear cut picture of what future holds bleeds into his vision. Max keeps it a secret, stashes it into his pocket, and says to Daniel, with just a smidge of hesitancy: "When I get there. To you?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll mean it, too."

[minnies-puppydoll]

{ Kinkmas Day 1: }

❄️ .*•snow bitten•*. ❄️

pairing: bangchan x reader

summary: you beg chan to play in the snow with you, but who knew it would be that cold? but don’t worry, he’ll always be there to warm up his favorite little girl.

warnings: daddy kink, caretaker roles, praise, comfort, manhandling, degradation, pussy eating, size kink/mentions of being smaller than chan, slapping, nipple play, let me know if i missed any!!

the snow fell peacefully on your face as you watched the white, foggy sky. days like these with chan are always the best.

you thoroughly insisted on coming outside to play in the snow, despite chan telling you its too cold and to wait for the thermal coats he bought to come in the mail. but, he knows his girl, always so impatient.

so you throw on a sweater and a thin jacket, obviously not enough to be let outside by chan, so you slowly open the cold doorknob and let your boots hit the snow.

you step around slowly, taking in how the ice cascades along the ground, covering all the the plush, green grass that once was. you scoop some up with your hands, the little crystals bite at your hands warmth, you forgot mittens.

despite your impatient disobedience, chan was an amazing caretaker to you. it’s like he knows everything about you. your fears, insecurities, and doubts, they’re all his now. always have been. chan enjoys having someone to take care of, he loves feeling needed, you both were made for eachother it seems.

you and chan have been dating for half a year now, yet sex was still a fresh topic. sure, you wanted to many times, but chan wants you to wait. you thought it was because he didn’t want you, but he quickly made sure to correct that.

“no no, sweet girl. of course i want you, but i want you to learn to feel safe and secure without feeling like you need to have sex with me, i don’t want you to do it for reassurance. can you wait for me? daddy wants you very much, little angel.”

waiting is hard. he’s evil using that nickname then telling you to wait. you know he’s right, but progress is nothing when you run your hands along yourself, pretending he finally decided to have you.

its easy to worry about things when you’re surrounded by such peace and silence, alone with your thoughts while chan isn’t there to take them all away like usual.

what if he abandons you? or maybe you’re just holding him back? what if always having to take care of you is a nuisance to him?

chan always said they were useless thoughts, and that he’ll always love you, but its hard to not overthink with everything that happened with the men in your life growing up.

..what if you’re dissapointing him right now by sneaking out into the yard? tears start to fill up your eyes.

“i’m sorry, chan.”

you mutter under your cold, visible breath to the image you made of him standing over you, his arms crossed with a fed up expression. but, when you turn around, you bump into something, no, someone warm with firm shoulders wrapped in a thick sweater.

chan greets your eyes with a smile when you open them, one that makes you melt despite the unforgiving snow, one that fills up that empty core inside yourself with safety and security, one that shows you no signs of irritance or resent, just pure, unconditional love. nothing like the chan your insecurities made in your head.

“enjoying the snow, my little angel? warm enough?”

the nickname washes your fears away, healing your upset mind. you can only look up at him innocently through your lashes, nodding your head and playing with the button on his coat.

“mhm. sorry i left. um..chan?”

“hm?”

“..you would tell me if i was too clingy? or just annoying sometimes, right? i know it’s a hassle to always take care of me or..stuff like that.”

you say avoiding his gaze and pouting, chan pets your hair, caressing his hand down to the back of your neck to cup your cheek softly with his big, firm hands. all of a sudden you don’t wanna play anymore, you wanna be with him.

“sweet girl..i know. im not upset with you at all. nothing you can do or say could ever stop me from loving you, remember?”

all of the feelings you wished you could’ve felt back then as a little girl poured into your head and spilled from your eyes and into chans chest as you pressed closer to him, nuzzling into his comforting scent and dependable chest.

he knows how vulnerable you can get when you feel like this suddenly, so chan holds you, placing his hand on the back of your head so you feel safe. when you pull away to look at him, he takes your small hand in his, stroking your skin with his thumbs. but, he stops when he notices you shivering. the snow soaked your clothes and left you wet and cold in his arms.

“..daddy?”

“hm?”

“i want to tell you something else..but i don’t want you to get mad at me.”

you say, chewing on your nail. chan smiles fondly at you.

“what is it? you know you i love you. more than anything in the entire world.”

“..i want..to start having sex with you. not for selfish reasons anymore, just need to feel you. is that okay?”

for a moment chan is silent, its a painful silence for you. please, say something. anything. then, chan starts giggling.

“..daddy?”

“im so proud of you. using your words for me, hm? need me inside you? need to feel my heart closer to you, baby? god, i think if i loved you anymore i might really explode.”

you hide your face in his chest again, burning with shyness. you didn’t think it be this easy, now you just wish he would stop teasing and fuck you already.

“feel better? come here. lets go inside and get you warmed up, silly girl.”

i guess there is a god.

chan sits you down on the large bed with thick, winter comforters cushioning you softly.

gently, but without delay, he begins to unbutton your coat. he gazes into your eyes with every soft clasp, as if you and him are the only ones in the universe..it hums an intimate fuzzing in your head, and an un-wholesome reaction between your thighs.

your coat is smoothly brisked off of your shoulders and discarded onto the floor somewhere, not that you really care about the details right now, as he quickly learns the hard way that you weren’t wearing much under that coat.

chan doesn’t seem that suprised, he simply takes notice of the pink, lacy bra you thought it was a good idea to wear outside and looks back at you with narrowed eyes..

“this is why you were so cold, huh? my dumb, baby..im suprised you didn’t freeze to death.”

you bite your lip when his warm hands roam around your cold breasts, circling his thumbs along the frills of the bra and your sensitive nipples just below them. he knows what he’s doing.

he teases you by leaving it on, running his hands down to your inner thighs, crouching down in between them.

“lay back for me, angel.”

he coos softly with a tender smile. he tucks his thumbs under your waistband, pressing your legs up and hastily peeling your thick, thermal pants off of your legs, revealing a matching set of pink lacy panties and fuzzy, winter thigh highs.

you hid your face as chan stripped you like a doll, then you giggled a bit as he smirks and sighs at your cold weather fashion choices.

“really, sweetheart? maybe you planned this , huh? thought about me stripping that pretty body? ..what am i going to do with you? such a little slut, even in winter.”

his firm hands caress your plush hips, before landing a smack to your thigh. you yelp and squirm in his overpowering grasp, before hes sticking his thumbs in the sides of your cute panties and slowly pulls them down, revealing your soft pussy with a string of arousal connecting to your underwear.

chan parts his lips and lets out a soft noise at the sight, biting his lip and pulling them off your legs. his hand is large over your tummy, the skin is rough in contrast you yours as his strokes his thumb over you sweetly.

“sweet thing. gonna let me take you? i’ll treat this pretty pussy so well as long as you go dumb for me.”

he brings his thumb up to your mouth, you suck on it lightly and bat your lashes at him.

“whore.”

his head is perched between your thighs, pressing soft kisses on your sweet skin.

when your eyes meet his, your stomach flips. just the visual of his mouth so close to where you need him most makes you whine and grind your hips up into nothing.

you have no choice. his arms are trapping your legs open, with his hands securely holding your hips in place. you try to squirm out of his grasp, and the feeling is delicious. you can’t move an inch.

“hm? can’t move, huh? that’s right. daddy’s got you.”

he coos, with a hungry tone in his voice. like he’s been waiting for this, for the moment he has his little girl all vulnrable and desperate for his body. his kisses to your thigh reach the lowest part of you, he comes to a halt and raises his head.

chan looks at you for a second, admiring and savoring the look of you before he gives you what you want. he bites his lip and smiles, revealing his sharp canines pressing on his plush lips.

he lowers his head closer to your twitching cunt, letting his breath tease you first. your red, puffy clit throbs at the denial of his sweet mouth wrapped around it.

“ahn- channiechannie please! can’t take it anymore. i’ll do anything just pleaseplease-“

“who?”

“fuck..daddy? daddy please.”

chan ignores you. he thinks your begs and cries are so adorable, but he already knows what he’s gonna do.

the first touch of his tongue sliding against your pussy feels like suffocating magic. but it doesn’t take long before your squirming and grinding your hips for more stimulation as the tip of his tongue circles just around your tortured little clit.

but you can’t move. and he won’t stop teasing you.

“ah! stopstop stop teasing please! jus’ wanna cum- wanna cum in your mouth, daddy-“

chan shuts you up quickly by wrapping his pretty lips around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue along it, sloppily making out with your pussy like he really means it.

your back immediately arches off the bed, tossing your head back along with it. in between your legs feels like heaven, blanketing your mind with silky, glowing white as you let out an absolutely fucked out scream.

you hear a squeaky chuckle between your legs from chan, he cups your ass with his hands and pulls you in closer to his greedy mouth. his eyes meet yours again, there’s a haze of darkness that passes through his before he bites a little nip on your pussy.

you yelp and jolt up, trying to plead him to stop, but chan is quick to sooth your tortured cunt with two talented fingers working their way into his pretty dolly’s hole.

his fingering is fast paced, has you gripping his hands and squirting all over them in minutes. chan handles his girl so roughly, but he looks down at you so carefully and attentive, as if you’re really made of fragile porcelain. his gaze is full of love and adoration, letting out sweet little giggles at your reactions. he can’t help it, you’re just so cute to him!

chan crooks his fingers up to thrust into your g-spot, you already can’t take it, but you die a little bit when his idle thumb presses into your clit, thrusting in sync with the rest. the added stimulation sends soaring stars of pleasure up your squirming body, chan’s veins on his arms show as he fucks his fingers up into you harder, manhandling an orgasm out of your poor little pussy.

“g’nna cum, yeah? that’s all the dumb little dolly is good for, right? serving daddy?”

“daddy! daddydaddyfuck..! gonna cum-“

“ah, what do we say, pretty girl?”

“can- can i cum? please? ahn..gonna cum so good - ah! on your fingers, daddy…”

“such a smart girl. go ahead and cum, pup. daddy’s got you, hm?”

it only takes those words for the harsh orgasm you were holding back to burst free, soaking chan’s abs and hands. you pathetically wail as he continues the abuse your pussy, fucking you through your wet little orgasm, but you feel so safe. you know chan’ll always hold you safe and tiny in his arms in such a vulnerable headspace.

when you finally start to come down, he strokes your tummy, up to your cute breasts, and finally to your cheeks, where he plants a soft kiss to remind you he loves you.

chan stands up and wipes his mouth. you notice how he’s still completely dressed and you’re only in your slutty thigh highs. it’s a hot situation, but it won’t do for now.

you slide your foot along his belt buckle, pulling and tugging at while whining at him, wordlessly begging for him to finally fill you up.

“what do you want, pretty girl? tell me and i’ll give it to you.”

you don’t respond, you just blink up at him, going a bit non-verbal and fuzzy already, and it’s worse when chan leans down to grab your face.

“hey. you want daddy to fuck you? want daddy’s cock pressing into your tummy, baby?”

“mhm..”

“then use. your. words.”

chan almost growls in your ear, you feel the texture of denim grinding at your overstimulated clit, he’s frotting his hard cock against your pussy from the fabric, urging you to say what he ordered you to say.

“mm’fuck! chan yes!”

a harsh slap stings your cheek.

“you know my name, stupid slut. is that pretty head just for decoration, or can you actually use it?”

“m’sorry, so sorry..fuck. daddy, please fuck me? please? ill be such a good girl, such a good hole for you please-“

the more you talk the bigger the smile lights up on his face, you’re just the most adorable thing in his eyes.

“aw, who’s my good girl? is it you? fuck..that’s right, angel.”

chan takes your little fuzzy-socked foot in his hand and brings it up from his belt to his face, planting a kiss above your heel.

he places your foot over his shoulder and begins to undo his belt with hypnotizing metal clicks. you’re finally getting what you’ve wanted since you started dating chan.

his belt and pants come undone, and you finally get a view of his big, red cock. it throbs in the air just by looking at the reaction on your face, suddenly he’s a little shy, just like the channie you know. he let’s out a squeaky giggle and avoids your eyes as he pumps his cock lazily.

“you want it, hm? it’s leaking for you and those pretty hips.”

he says now biting his lip and spreading your legs back, trapping you in a mating press. his face rests near your collarbone, whispering filth desperately as far as you can hear it.

“fuck..can’t hold it anymore, need to sink into you..tight fucking pussy- need it squeezing me.”

with that, he’s spreading your folds and forcing his cock in with tiny little thrusts. the stretch is overwelming, but it’s pressing on the front of your g-spot perfectly.

when your pussy is filled all the way, he wastes no time at all continuing his pace with larger and more forceful thrusts inside you, one’s that have you breathlessly screaming.

you really can’t take it, it feels too good you don’t know what to do with yourself. you need him to slow down.

you can’t form sentences right now, so you try planting your hands on his abdomen to brace yourself, but chan swipes them up instantly, gripping your wrists together to use as leverage to pull you back down on his cock.

“fucking take it. stay still, you said you would be good, hm? this pussy’s too little to fit me?”

you’re going braindead you swear, his cock is mind-numbingly thick, it soaks your g-spot, while also being long enough to fuck spots you’re sure no dildo has ever reached before.

chan bounces you like that for a bit before taking one of your legs and lifting it up, holding it against his chest while he rolls his hips in your cunt. he’s lost in it, closing his eyes and placing plush kisses along your sock.

he brings his hand down to thumb at your clit messily, slapping it occasionally to get you there closer. he feels himself faltering in your pussy, groaning louder and leaning his head back at the feeling of you sucking him in.

“fffuck..good fucking girl..gonna make daddy cum? yeah? want me to spill inside this greedy cunt?”

“mn..mhm!”

he hears your meek response. chan places his hand on the side of your head, forcing you to hear him as he brings his face to the crook of your neck.

you don’t like this. you love the feeling of him fucking you more than anything, it makes you feel taken care of and safe, and closer to your boyfriend. but what you really need right now is his cum, and he isn’t cumming fast enough for you.

“gonna cum, yeah? look at what you’re doing to me- ah!”

chan tenses as you pull up his shirt to pinch at his nipples, rolling them in your fingers. his arms shake around you as he writhes, but he isn’t thrusting anymore.

“please..don’t stop, channie..you’re almost there, need your cum..”

he starts thrusting again, fucking you closer with him, the feeling of his cock inside you and your hands on his nipples has him throwing his head back, sending electric sparks of pleasure to his cock.

“mm’fuck can’t take it- oh fuck, cumming!”

you feel chan spraying warm cum deep inside your already messy cunt. the feeling of his warmth flooding inside you is what sends you over with him, his twitching cock still prodding at your g-spot desperately.

your orgasm is strong, you close your legs shut while cumming shakily around his cock till he softly pulls it out. you both rest for a second after cumming so hard, but chan’s shy laugh breaks the silence, covering his red face.

“oh my gosh..i cannot believe i just came from that!”

you can’t believe that this is the same man that just called you his whore unprovoked. you pull him down to lay on you, resting your face in his shoulder and wrapping your legs around him. chan instantly relaxes in your arms.

“…all warmed up now?”

“mhm..chan?”

“anything, sweet girl.”

“i love you. love you so much..thank you for doing this. i know taking care of me can be alot and-“

“ah, ah. i told you to stop saying that. never. it’s never a burden to make you happy. thank you for trusting me to give you what you need. i loved you then, i love you now, and ill love you forever. if you forget, then ill always be here to remind you, ill say it over and over again each time.”

his soft, lovely words paired with your exhaustion seems to be the perfect recipe for you to fall asleep in his arms. chan just hums and strokes your hair, he loves his girl.

“goodnight, sweet girl. ill be right here when you wake up too.”

tags!!

@estella-novella @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @theresstardustinmyblood @annafeebou @pancake-freckle @elizalabs3 @minniesverse @loxgirl2004 @mintymintmint251 @y-ur--i

[littlelamy]

I was the one who requested Reader going through a depression and stopped responding to Rafe. That was soooooo good, I just wish it was longer because you're such a talented writer and I could read your stuff forever. Could I.....maybe request a part 2? With some happy ending. Maybe she opens the door....or maybe he bumps into her outside when she's getting her perscribed anti depressant pills at the pharmacy or something. WHatever you want, but I just want Rafe to show Reader that HE CARES and she lets him in emotionally, and he is super attentative, not at all making her feel like a burden, and is happy to take care of her

a/n: here’s part 2!😘

you hadn’t expected to run into him. you’d finally worked up the energy to go outside, the sun's warmth on your skin almost foreign after days—weeks—spent in the isolation of your apartment. your hands trembled slightly as you stepped into the pharmacy, clutching the prescription your doctor had sent over. it was supposed to help, the medication, but even taking this step felt monumental.

you kept your head down, trying to avoid any familiar faces. but of course, the universe had other plans.

“y/n?”

your heart sank at the sound of his voice, soft but unmistakable. you turned slowly, your eyes meeting rafe’s. he was standing near the entrance, a small reusable grocery bag in hand, his expression shifting from surprise to something gentler.

you froze, unsure of what to say. your mind immediately jumped to how you must look—unkempt, tired, a shell of the person he’d met a few months ago.

“hey,” you said finally, your voice barely audible.

rafe’s brows knitted together as he stepped closer, his blue eyes scanning your face. “what are you doing here?”

“just picking up something,” you mumbled, holding up your prescription bag as if it explained everything.

he nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he spoke again. “do you have time to talk?”

you hesitated, glancing around the store. the thought of having this conversation here, in public, made your stomach churn.

“not here,” you whispered.

“okay,” he said immediately, his tone reassuring. “my car’s outside. we can talk there?”

you nodded, following him out to the parking lot.

the silence in his car was heavy but not uncomfortable. rafe didn’t rush you, didn’t push for answers. he just sat there, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, waiting for you to speak.

“i’m sorry,” you said finally, your voice breaking. “for disappearing. for not answering your texts. for… everything.”

he turned to face you, his expression soft. “you don’t have to apologize, y/n.”

“yes, i do,” you insisted, your chest tightening. “i’ve been a mess, and you don’t deserve to deal with that. you have your own life, and i—”

“stop,” he interrupted gently, his hand reaching out to rest on yours. his touch was warm, grounding. “you’re not a burden. and i don’t care how messy things are right now. i care about you.”

his words hit you like a wave, breaking through the walls you’d built around yourself.

“i don’t understand why,” you admitted, tears streaming down your face. “why would you want to deal with someone like me? i can’t even—”

“because you matter to me,” he said firmly, cutting you off again. “and it’s not about ‘dealing’ with you, y/n. it’s about being here for you. because that’s what you do for the people you care about.”

you didn’t go back to your apartment that day. instead, rafe drove you to his place, insisting that you didn’t have to be alone.

“just for a little while,” he said when you hesitated. “you don’t have to talk or do anything you don’t want to. just... stay.”

——————-

his house was quieter than you’d expected, the warm tones of the furniture and the faint smell of cedar making it feel more like a home than you’d imagined.

he led you to the couch, draping a blanket over your shoulders before disappearing into the kitchen. when he returned, he had a cup of tea in his hands, setting it on the coffee table in front of you.

"it’s chamomile,” he said, sitting down beside you. “i don’t know if you like it, but wheezie taught me how to make it back when i couldn’t sleep."

you managed a small smile, the gesture feeling foreign but welcome. “thank you.”

“anytime,” he replied, his voice soft.

the first night was the hardest.

you felt like an intruder, like you didn’t belong in his space. but rafe seemed to sense your unease, keeping his distance while still making it clear he was there if you needed him.

“if you want to talk, i’m here,” he said before heading to bed. “but if you just need to rest, that’s okay too. whatever you need.”

——————-

you spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, your mind racing with doubts and fears. but when the morning came, you felt a little lighter, the weight of your thoughts less suffocating than before.

over the next few days, rafe became a constant presence in your life.

he didn’t push you to talk about your feelings, but he also didn’t let you retreat completely into yourself. he’d sit with you during meals, even if you only picked at your food, and he’d put on movies you liked, filling the silence with soft laughter and the occasional comment.

when you mentioned feeling guilty about imposing, he shook his head, his expression serious.

“you’re not imposing,” he said firmly. “you’re here because you need someone, and i’m glad you trusted me enough to let me be that person.”

his words stayed with you, a small beacon of light in the darkness that had consumed you for so long.

one evening, you found yourself opening up to him in a way you hadn’t expected.

“i started the medication,” you said quietly, your hands wrapped around a cup of tea.

rafe looked up from his phone, his full attention on you. “how’s it going so far?”

“it’s... okay, i think,” you admitted. “it’s only been a few days, but it feels like a step in the right direction.”

“i’m proud of you,” he said, his voice warm. “that’s a big step.”

you felt a lump form in your throat, his words touching a part of you that had been starved for kindness.

“thank you,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his.

he smiled, reaching out to rest his hand over yours, gently rubbing small circles on it. “always.”

——————-

as the days turned into weeks, you started to find pieces of yourself again.

it wasn’t easy—there were still bad days, moments when the weight of everything threatened to pull you under. but rafe was there, steady and unwavering, his presence a constant reminder that you weren’t alone.

he celebrated the small victories with you, like the first time you cooked a meal together or the day you went for a walk around the neighborhood. and when you had setbacks, he was there too, offering quiet reassurance and a shoulder to lean on.

“healing isn’t a straight line,” he said one evening as you sat on the couch together. “it’s okay to have bad days. what matters is that you keep going.”

his words stayed with you, a mantra you repeated to yourself during the harder moments.

one night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, you felt a surge of gratitude for him—for his patience, his kindness, his unwavering support.

“rafe?” you said softly, your voice cutting through the quiet.

he stirred beside you, his arm draped over your waist. “yeah?”

“thank you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “for everything. for being here. for caring.”

he shifted closer, his lips pressing against your temple. “you don’t have to thank me,” he murmured. “you’re worth it, y/n. every second.”

and for the first time in a long time, you believed him.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

additional tags: @rafegf-real and @readingsmuts

[tiiraameesu]

The One That Got Away Pt.4

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af, you might dislike gojo in this im sorry, very very mild geto x reader

NOTESજ⁀➴ hope y'all enjoy the new chapter! appreciate all the comments and messages I've gotten so far for my last few chapters! makes me soooo excited to post even more and more! so sorry for the late upload though, school has been CRAZY and i was lowkey spiraling because of this new guy i was talking to but yeah ENJOYYY ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

wcજ⁀➴ 7.5k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie @higuchislut @domilovestoru @aishies-stuff @genxnarumi @username23345 PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Two weeks had passed, and Gojo Satoru was a ghost in your life. Not literally, of course—his presence was hard to miss, especially since you still caught glimpses of him with Mina—but the days when he’d linger outside your band practice or wait for you by the bleachers during his hockey drills were long gone.

Instead, his world seemed to orbit around Mina now. He was always meeting her, whether before or after his own practice. The few times you had decided to sit in the bleachers and watch him, hoping he’d wave you over for a laugh or even just a chat, he’d merely sent a casual wave in your direction before rushing to Mina.

By the third time, you decided he wouldn’t miss your absence. Mina was there to take your place.

Now, here you were, stuck in the middle of band practice. The studio walls felt too tight today, and even though the air was filled with the rhythmic clash of drums, the heavy hum of the bass, and the soaring melody of your guitar, the energy in your chest was mismatched.

Your phone sat on the edge of the amp, its screen glaring at you with an all-too-familiar sight: an unread message to Gojo. Delivered. Not even read.

It stung more than you cared to admit, but you knew better than to let it show. You didn’t own him. He didn’t owe you anything.

You shook the thought from your head as the band kicked into another song. This time, you focused.

The song flowed easily under your fingers, each note falling into place with effortless precision. Your hands moved like they had a mind of their own, strumming, pressing, and pulling out the right chords without a second thought.

You hit every note perfectly, the rhythm steady, the melody crisp—technically flawless. But something was off. The music, despite its perfection, felt wrong.

Instead of the light, airy feel the song was meant to have, each strum was laced with tension, harsh and biting, like a storm trapped in a song meant for sunshine. The melody should have danced, should have lifted the mood, but instead, it thundered through the room, loud and jagged. Every note you played was sharp, angry, as though you were trying to fight something—only it wasn’t the song you were supposed to be playing anymore.

The guitar hummed with your frustration, but it wasn’t the kind of emotion the song was supposed to evoke. It was heavy. It was out of place. It was angry. And as you continued, the gap between the song and your soul seemed to widen.

“You’re playing too hard,” Choso called over the final note, his drumsticks resting on the snare. His voice cut through the distorted noise of your thoughts, pulling you back to reality, but only slightly.

You lowered your guitar, chest rising and falling with the weight of the tension still clinging to you. His words didn’t quite register at first—until you looked up, meeting his steady gaze. His brow furrowed, and for the briefest second, you could have sworn he saw right through you, saw past the perfect notes and into the tangled mess inside.

“I hit all the notes, didn’t I?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. You didn’t want to look weak, but you couldn’t help it. The question hung in the air, a challenge disguised as doubt. Your fingers still tingled from the aggressive strumming, the burn of the misplaced energy lingering.

“You did,” Yu chimed in from the keyboard. “But it’s not… you. It’s like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Like you’re following a script,” Choso finished, his dark eyes steady on you. “Instead of playing from the heart.”

Their words hit harder than you expected, stirring a frustration you weren’t ready to face. Before you could snap back, your hand slipped during the next strum. The string bit into your finger, sharp and unforgiving.

“Ah, shit,” you muttered, pulling back as blood welled up on your finger.

Iori, who had been watching from her spot near the mic, immediately stepped away, her voice cutting through the tension. “Break time,” she called, her tone more serious than usual. The mic stand clinked softly as she set it down and moved toward you.

You blinked, still reeling from the sting in your finger. The blood dripped slowly, mixing with the burn of your frustration. Iori was already moving toward the back of the room, opening a cabinet for the first aid kit.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, but still carrying that steady assurance.

You didn’t answer right away, just watched as she grabbed the kit and walked back over. The room felt strangely quiet without the hum of the music, the weight of their words still hanging in the air. Your hand felt heavy, the cut sharp but not unbearable.

Iori knelt in front of you, gently taking your hand in hers. “Let me see.” Her fingers brushed lightly against your skin as she cleaned the wound. It wasn’t painful, but the act was grounding, calming, almost too much after the storm inside you. You had to look away, feeling the sharp edges of your emotions settle, just for a second.

“You really gotta stop playing so hard,” Iori murmured, her gaze flickering up to meet yours. There was a faint smirk on her face, but there was something else too—understanding, maybe. She didn’t press the issue, though. Instead, she simply wrapped the cut with care, her voice softening. “You’re not gonna get anything out of this if you keep forcing it.”

Her words stuck with you, hanging in the air even as she finished tending to your finger. The sharpness of the cut seemed to mirror the tension inside you, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of understanding in the quiet aftermath. You weren’t just playing with your fingers; you were playing with your heart, and it had all gotten twisted up somewhere along the way.

Iori finished wrapping your finger, her hands gentle as she tended to the cut, but you didn’t feel the same sense of calm you usually did when she was around. Everything felt off, jagged, like even the simplest act was just another reminder of how out of sync you were with yourself. She stepped back, giving you some space, but the words she’d said lingered in the air.

The moment stretched, but you barely noticed it, too lost in your own head. Then, from the corner of your eye, you saw Naoya walking over with a drink in hand. He didn’t say anything at first, just tossed you the can like it was a casual gesture, but you could feel his eyes on you—assessing, calculating.

You caught it without looking, but your fingers felt sluggish, the weight of the can nothing compared to the weight you were carrying. You cracked it open slowly, the fizz rising and popping in the quiet. But it didn’t help.

Naoya sat down next to you, his posture as rigid and sharp as always, but his gaze never left you. There was an uncomfortable intensity in the way he studied you, the usual mockery and sharp edges of his smirk replaced by something a little less abrasive.

He leaned back, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if searching for something deeper than the surface.

“What’s bothering you now?” he asked, the words more direct than you expected, his voice stripped of any sarcasm or playfulness. “Last time you were like this was two weeks ago, remember? And I don’t think I need to tell you that you don’t exactly have a good track record when you start shutting down.”

His words hit like a cold splash of water, a reminder of the pattern you were stuck in. You had been here before, trapped inside your head, not sure how to get out. It didn’t matter that this time it felt different—like the frustration wasn’t just with the music anymore, but with everything around you, everything inside you. Naoya knew better than to let you avoid the question.

You didn’t answer right away, running your thumb along the lip of the can absentmindedly. The bubbles inside hissed in your ears, but the sound only reminded you of the noise in your own head.

Then, as the silence stretched, Nanami spoke up from his spot across the room, his usual calm voice cutting through the stillness.

“You know, ignoring it won’t help,” he said, his tone more matter-of-fact than anything else. “Whatever this is, bottling it up just makes it worse. You’re not exactly subtle when something’s eating at you.”

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look up, too tangled in the mess of your thoughts. Your mind raced, too much noise in your head to form a solid answer.

“I… I don’t really know,” you said finally, the words slipping out more honestly than you intended. You shook your head, frustration leaking through your voice.

You sat there in silence, the words hanging in the air. The frustration still churned inside you, a gnawing feeling that didn’t seem to go away no matter how many times you tried to shake it off. It wasn’t just the music. It wasn’t just the cut on your finger. It was everything that had been building up inside you, everything that you hadn’t been able to say or figure out.

Gojo. That name echoed in your mind, but even thinking it made your chest tighten, a knot forming deep in your stomach. It was him—his presence, his expectations, the weight of his shadow that seemed to be clouding everything. You couldn’t put it into words, not here, not now. Not in front of them. But damn, you just wished you could hear his voice. Maybe then, things would feel a little clearer. Maybe just hearing him tell you it was going to be okay would make the world feel less heavy.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder. You looked up, surprised to find Iori watching you, her eyes softer than usual, like she could sense the wall you were putting up.

Without a word, she clasped her hands together and stood up, her movements calm and purposeful. “You know what? Let’s call it a night. Why don’t we order some food and just chill? No pressure, no rehearsing. Just take it easy this time around.”

Her words were simple, but the way she said them felt like a release, like an invitation to let go of the tension that had been creeping up in the room.

You felt the weight of your own silence, the words swirling in your chest that you couldn’t quite voice. Maybe you were being unfair, maybe you were letting everything pile up inside you when they didn’t deserve it. The guilt hit you like a wave, and before you could stop it, you found yourself speaking.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. I’ve been... off, I guess.” The words came out clumsy, but they felt necessary. Like if you could just say them, it might ease the tension that had been building inside you for so long.

The room felt quieter as you looked around, but instead of a wave of understanding or sympathy, Choso’s voice cut through, calm and unfazed.

“Don’t sweat it,” he said with his usual nonchalance, leaning back in his seat. His eyes flickered toward you, but there wasn’t any judgment in them, just an effortless coolness. “Everyone has their moments. No big deal.”

He shrugged, looking more like he couldn’t care less, but the ease in his tone made the guilt inside you settle just a little.

“You’re still here, right? That’s what matters.” His words were blunt, but they had a way of hitting exactly where they needed to. No overthinking, no grand speeches. Just... simple reassurance.

You let out a small breath, realizing that maybe it wasn’t so terrible to be like this every once in a while. You weren’t perfect, and neither were they. And that, for some reason, made it all feel a little more manageable.

“Thanks,” you said, the words lighter now, like a burden had shifted off your shoulders.

Iori gave a small, approving nod as you finally relaxed, her smile soft but reassuring. “So, what are we having?”

────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After the food had been devoured, the room was filled with the casual noise of packing up and cleaning up the last bits of the mess. The rest of the crew had already begun to pack up, their laughter and chatter a distant hum as they gathered their things and said their goodbyes. The studio, once filled with the warmth of conversation and the sound of instruments, now felt quieter. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearing midnight, and everyone was ready to call it a night.

You waved them off, telling them you’d close up the studio. The others didn’t seem to mind, already heading out the door with tired smiles and promises to meet at the next session. As the last of them disappeared down the hallway, you stood there in the silence, the door clicking shut behind them.

The studio was empty now, save for the soft hum of the lights above. You set your bag down on the couch, the familiar weight of it suddenly feeling too much. But instead of heading home like you probably should have, you took a deep breath and made your way over to your instrument.

The band had been more than patient with you, more than understanding as you struggled through each practice, trying and failing to get things right. The pressure had been mounting—the gig was right around the corner, and you still hadn’t found your rhythm. But every time you messed up, they were there with encouraging words, with reassurances that you’d get it, that they knew you could.

A wave of gratitude washed over you as you stood there in the quiet studio, staring at your instrument. They could’ve been frustrated with you. They had every right to be. But instead, they were kind, patient, and supportive, letting you take your time. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being better, for not meeting their expectations, for not being as good as they believed you were capable of being.

You let the thoughts settle in your mind, but then, as quickly as they came, you shook them away. There was no point in dwelling on what you couldn’t change right now. What mattered was what came next.

You couldn’t take their patience for granted. You couldn’t let them down again. The gig was coming, and you had to be better.

With a steadying breath, you picked up your instrument. The room seemed to fade around you as you closed your eyes, tuning out everything except the steady pulse of your heartbeat and the strings beneath your fingers.

You began to play, your fingers moving over the strings with a gentler touch than before. The aggression was gone, replaced by a quieter intensity. It felt better, more in tune with the mood you wanted to create, but something was still missing. There was a void, a note that you couldn’t reach, a spark that wouldn’t ignite no matter how many times you strummed. The frustration lingered, swirling inside you, gnawing at your concentration.

And just as the frustration began to settle into something heavier, your phone vibrated sharply against the floor where you had tossed it earlier. Startled, you paused mid-strum and glanced over. The name on the screen caught you off guard.

Gojo.

You stared at the caller ID for a moment, your heart doing an unexpected flutter in your chest. What was he calling for? Was it... was it really him? You hesitated, fingers still lingering on the strings, unsure of whether to pick up or let it go to voicemail.

It had been so long since you’d heard his voice, but you didn’t know if you were ready to face it yet. You knew you couldn’t keep running from this, but... this? Right now?

The phone vibrated again in your hand, urging you to decide.

You took a deep breath and answered, your voice shaky as you pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Gojo’s voice came through, smoother than usual, but there was something about it that felt more serious this time. “I’m downstairs. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You froze, eyes darting to the door like you could somehow see him on the other side. Downstairs? You weren’t sure you’d heard him right.

“Wait... what?” you said, your voice wavering slightly. “You’re downstairs?”

“Yeah,” Gojo responded, his tone firmer now, like he wasn’t messing around. “Come down. I’ll be waiting.”

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to show up out of the blue like this. You looked at your phone, still processing the strange urgency in his voice.

“Uh, alright,” you said, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves. “I’ll be there in a second.”

You hung up quickly, set your guitar down, and grabbed your things, moving with more haste than you had anticipated. The tension in the pit of your stomach only grew as you locked up the practice room and made your way down the hall. Something in his tone had shifted, and it made the usual teasing Gojo feel distant—more... serious.

You rushed down the stairs, the echo of your footsteps against the walls reminding you how quickly everything had shifted. When you finally rounded the corner, you saw him standing by the door, his posture straighter than usual. The smirk was gone, replaced by a focused intensity in his eyes that you rarely saw.

He didn’t greet you with his usual grin or playful jab. Instead, he just looked at you, his gaze unwavering. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice almost too calm. “Let’s go.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you were in way over your head. But there was no turning back now.

The walk was quiet, but the silence felt different this time. Gojo’s usual cocky confidence was replaced with an almost tangible tension in his posture. He walked with purpose, his strides long and quick, but there was a tightness in the way he carried himself that you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t like him to be this... off. He always wore that smug grin, that careless energy that made everything feel like a joke. But now? He looked like he was carrying something heavy, something too complicated to shake off.

You wanted to ask him what was going on, but you knew better. If Gojo didn’t bring it up, he wasn’t going to. You could tell that much, even with the unease simmering beneath his usually cool exterior.

You both reached the convenience store, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh as you entered. The familiar hum of the coolers and the bright fluorescent lights did little to ease the tension hanging between you. You found a seat near the back, not really feeling hungry or in the mood to browse, so you just sat there, hands folded in your lap, eyes following Gojo as he wandered over to the drinks section.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, expecting him to grab his usual—his go-to strawberry iced tea, the one he always joked about being his secret weapon—but to your surprise, his hand reached for something different. He grabbed a can of beer, the silver can catching the dim light as he turned towards the cashier.

Your brows furrowed slightly, not because you had a problem with it, but because it was so out of character for him. Gojo, the always-lighthearted, playful figure, wasn’t someone you expected to be reaching for alcohol, especially not when the atmosphere had been so... different tonight.

He returned to the seat next to you after quickly paying for the drink, the cool can in his hand now making a soft, faintly metallic sound as he cracked it open. The hiss of the carbonation was the only sound between you two for a few moments as he took a long drink, the beer slipping past his lips without the usual playful smirk that usually accompanied any of his actions.

You hesitated, the air thick with unspoken words. You weren’t sure if you should say something or just let him be, but you could feel that something was wrong—something deeper than whatever lighthearted banter he would usually throw your way. You’d known him long enough to see when something was off. Tonight, it was impossible to ignore.

Finally, after a few more moments of silence, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You turned toward him, your voice quiet but laced with concern. “What’s going on with you, Satoru?”

He didn’t immediately respond, the can still in his hand as he stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together in a thin line as if he was weighing his words. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick with anticipation. Then, as though he couldn’t keep it inside any longer, he muttered just one word:

"Mina."

It was soft, almost lost in the distance of the moment. But hearing it—the way it left his lips so raw, so fragmented—sent a jolt through you. This wasn’t the playful Gojo you knew. This was someone who was struggling, someone who didn’t have all the answers.

You blinked, the name hanging in the air like a strange weight. Mina. You’d thought the two of them were the perfect couple. They had that effortless chemistry, the kind of bond that seemed unshakable. Gojo and Mina—it just made sense. They were the kind of pair people would look at and say, "That’s it. They’re meant to be." And yet, hearing Gojo say that name now, in the quiet of this moment, felt like a crack in a carefully built illusion.

You hadn’t expected this. The way he said it, though... so quiet, so far removed from his usual confident, teasing tone, made you pause. You’d never once imagined that Gojo—someone so composed, so unflappable—could be this thrown off by a relationship. It was unsettling to think that things might not be as perfect as they appeared.

Before you could gather your thoughts to ask what had happened, Gojo let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was already exhausted by the very thought of explaining. “It’s complicated,” he said, cutting off any further questions you might have had.

You could tell from the way he said it, with that tired edge in his voice, that this wasn’t something simple. It wasn’t just an argument or a misunderstanding. There was more beneath the surface—something tangled up in emotions and expectations that Gojo clearly didn’t know how to untangle.

He took another sip from the can, his fingers tight around it once more, like he was trying to hold onto something before it slipped away.

"Tell me,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the tension creeping up your spine. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me."

He looked at the can in his hands for a long moment, his fingers white-knuckled around it. The weight of silence hung heavy in the air before he finally spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“It’s not that she’s done anything wrong,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. “She’s... a good girlfriend. She hasn’t done anything bad, nothing’s wrong with her.”

He let out a frustrated breath, eyes narrowing as he traced the rim of the can with his thumb. “But... it’s like something’s missing. Like, when I first met her, I thought I saw something, you know? There was this... feeling, like we clicked or something. But now, every time I’m with her, it feels... off. It’s not her fault, she’s not doing anything different, it’s just—” He trailed off, searching for the words, but they just wouldn’t come.

He let out a quiet laugh, self-deprecating and bitter. “Maybe I built some kind of... fantasy around her, and now that I’m seeing who she really is, it doesn’t line up. I thought it was something real, but now... I’m not sure.”

You could see it, the confusion in his eyes. He wasn’t blaming her—he wasn’t even sure what was wrong, but the discomfort was there, thick and undeniable. It wasn’t that Mina had changed, but that Gojo’s perception of her had cracked, leaving him to figure out if there was anything left of what he thought was there.

You took a slow breath, trying to find the right words as you watched him wrestle with himself. You could tell this was weighing heavily on him, and it wasn’t just about Mina—it was about Gojo grappling with something deeper, something he wasn’t sure how to explain even to himself.

You leaned back slightly, your voice soft but steady. “I get it,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “When you first meet someone, it’s easy to get swept up in the feeling of it all—the excitement, the newness. And maybe... maybe you started seeing things in her that you wanted to see, or that felt right in the moment.”

You paused, allowing him to process, before continuing. “But just because you’re feeling like things aren’t clicking now, doesn’t mean it’s a lost cause. Sometimes, when we’re with someone, we get so focused on the idea of them that we forget to focus on who they really are. And maybe that's what’s throwing you off—you’re seeing the real her now, and it’s different from the image you had in your head.”

You could see the tension in his face, but you pressed on, keeping your tone gentle. “It’s not a bad thing, Gojo. People aren’t perfect, and relationships are never just about the spark you feel at the beginning. The real connection, the deep stuff, that comes over time. Maybe it’s just a matter of slowing down and letting things evolve naturally, instead of forcing them into some mold you’ve created.”

You shifted slightly, choosing to be honest with him. “It sounds like you’re scared of being disappointed or realizing that it’s not what you thought, but maybe you just need time to figure out who she really is, and who you are with her. You might not have all the answers right now, and that’s okay.”

You gave him a small, understanding smile. “Just don’t give up too soon because of some uncomfortable feelings. If you’re both willing to figure it out, it doesn’t have to be the end of something good. Sometimes it takes work to get through the doubts and see what’s really there.”

Gojo leaned back, his gaze drifting once more as if the answer was just beyond his reach. His hands rested loosely on his knees, the can in his hand now forgotten. His tone was quiet, almost tentative, as he finally spoke.

Gojo sat in silence for a moment, his eyes fixed on the floor as he processed your words. The usual intensity in his expression was softened, like he was turning over each of your points in his mind, carefully weighing them. His hands, once tense around the can, were now resting in his lap, fingers loosely intertwined as if the weight had lifted, even just slightly.

You could feel the shift, the way his posture had changed. He was listening—not just hearing—but truly taking in what you were saying. He took a deep breath, his shoulders easing as he finally looked up, meeting your gaze. There was a flicker of clarity in his eyes, though the storm wasn’t fully gone yet.

“I get it,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “I understand where you're coming from. You're right. Maybe I’ve been too focused on this idea I had about her, this... perfect picture I painted in my head. And now that it’s not lining up, it’s throwing me off. I’m just... I guess I was expecting things to be a certain way, and now it feels like I’m not even sure where I stand anymore.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze drifted down again, looking almost lost in thought. “I know you’re right. I can’t expect everything to be perfect, and I shouldn’t be so quick to judge her for not matching whatever image I had. But—” He paused, the hesitation creeping back into his voice.

"But..." you prompted gently, knowing there was more he was holding back.

Gojo’s eyes flicked to you, a mixture of frustration and uncertainty crossing his features. “But… I’m just not sure if she’s the one,” he said, his voice trailing off like he was unsure even about admitting it to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you for a moment, as if the words felt too heavy.

“It’s not like I don’t care about her. I do. And she’s a good person. She’s been nothing but kind to me, and we get along well enough. But... I don’t know. It’s just this nagging feeling I can’t shake. Like, maybe we’re not as compatible as I thought we were. Like, something’s missing.” He let out a frustrated sigh, staring at the ground for a long moment.

He looked up at you then, his expression conflicted. “I don’t want to keep second-guessing myself, but at the same time... I don’t want to lead her on if I’m not sure. I don’t want to be the guy who’s just going through the motions, thinking it’ll work out, when deep down I’m not sure if we’re actually right for each other. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

He glanced at you with a bit of vulnerability in his eyes, a rare sight for Gojo. “I mean, I don’t want to keep dragging her into something if I’m not sure I can give her what she needs. And I can’t help but wonder if... if I’m just waiting for something that isn’t there.”

He let the silence linger for a beat before he shook his head, running a hand over his face. “It’s not that I don’t like her. It’s just... am I really feeling what I thought I was? Or was it just... a good idea in my head?”

You hesitated, unsure of the right thing to say, because this wasn’t exactly the kind of situation you were used to dealing with. Gojo was always so confident, so sure of himself, and now, seeing him so lost—it felt unfamiliar and honestly, a little overwhelming.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure how to ease his tension. You knew that you couldn’t just throw out words of wisdom like it was all simple, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t simple for him, and you didn’t want to make it worse by trying to give advice that sounded too rehearsed.

After a long pause, you spoke, trying to find a balance between understanding and honesty. “I mean, I can’t tell you what to do. It’s not like I have the answers for this kind of stuff.” You let out a soft, nervous laugh, realizing that you weren’t exactly the expert here.

“But...” You trailed off, trying to gather your thoughts. “You’re not alone in feeling confused about this. Relationships are messy, and sometimes, it’s hard to know what the right thing is. What you’re feeling—doubt, uncertainty—it’s not abnormal. It’s just... part of figuring things out.”

You fidgeted a little, glancing down at your hands. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... it’s okay not to have all the answers. I think you just need to give yourself permission to take a step back. Maybe let it go a bit slower, without all the pressure to know if it's ‘the one’ right away. And if something’s still unclear, then... you can figure it out. It doesn’t have to be right or wrong all at once.”

You looked up at him again, your voice softer. “It’s just, don’t feel like you have to have it all figured out right now. I’m not sure if that helps or anything, but... that’s the best I got.”

Gojo was quiet for a moment, taking everything in, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your words had actually made any impact. But then he turned to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t his usual teasing grin, but something softer, almost relieved.

“Man, look at you getting all deep and philosophical. Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased, his voice light and playful.

You blinked, feeling a rush of heat to your face. “Shut up,” you muttered, trying to act like you weren’t completely embarrassed by the whole thing. “I’m just trying to help, okay?”

Gojo chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you reacted. “I know, I know. But seriously, I didn’t think you were the ‘advice-giving’ type. I’ll be honest, that was a little... sappy.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at him, though you could feel the warmth on your cheeks. “Well, maybe you need it. You act like you have everything figured out, but look at you now—getting all lost in your own head.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. “Okay, okay, I get it. Sappy, but helpful. Can’t deny that. But don’t let it go to your head.”

You looked at him, now slightly less flustered, and offered a small smile. “Yeah, well, I’m just saying... Sometimes things aren’t as simple as we want them to be. It’s okay not to have everything figured out right away. Relationships take time.”

Gojo met your eyes, his expression more thoughtful now, and he let out a long breath. “Yeah... I guess I’ve been putting too much pressure on myself to have it all figured out. Thanks for the reminder.” His smile came back, softer this time. “You’ve got a point. Maybe I do need to take a step back and just see where it goes.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease now. “It’s not a race, ‘Toru. Don’t rush it. Just let things happen as they do.”

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, before Gojo broke it, his tone still teasing but less guarded.

“Alright, alright. I’ll try to take it slow, philosopher,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but the tension had definitely eased. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t get all sappy on me again.”

Gojo grinned, clearly in a better place than before. “I’ll try to spare you from that. But hey, next time you drop some deep wisdom on me, I’ll be ready.”

You flushed a little again but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t push it, Gojo.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

As the two of you walked back home, the air between you had shifted. The tension that had lingered for so long was finally gone, replaced by a quiet comfort that settled over both of you. You found yourself walking in step with Gojo, the rhythm of your footsteps syncing naturally as you let the silence between you stretch, not feeling the need to fill it with words.

Now that the weight of the conversation had lifted, you allowed your gaze to wander to him, something you hadn’t done too openly before.

There was something almost disarming about Gojo when the playful edge in his voice softened, when he wasn’t in “Gojo mode.” His features, though still sharp and striking, held a kind of warmth that you hadn’t expected to see, a rawness that only revealed itself in moments like this—when he was being real with you.

His eyes, usually full of that mischievous glint, looked calmer now, more reflective, and as the light from the streetlamps caught his hair, it almost seemed to glow with an ethereal quality. The way he carried himself, effortlessly cool yet undeniably human, made you pause and just take him in, appreciating him for a moment. His presence felt different now—less overwhelming and more... grounding.

And then, as if on cue, you caught yourself smiling, soft and almost wistful. It was strange, the way just being near him—hearing his voice, feeling the quiet ease that had settled between you—seemed to heal something inside you, something you hadn’t even realized was aching until it started to fade away.

It was like the weight of the world didn’t seem so heavy anymore. Like, somehow, everything felt a little more manageable in the moment.

You allowed yourself to enjoy the moment a little longer, the quiet warmth between you two still lingering as you walked the rest of the way home. But even as you let yourself bask in the calm, a part of you couldn't fully relax. Deep down, you knew this wasn't something that would last long. Gojo had been here tonight because of his issue with Mina, and once that was sorted out, you figured things would go back to how they were before—back to the teasing, playful banter and the walls he'd built up around himself.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy this version of him, the one that was more genuine, more grounded—it was just that you knew the reality. Once he figured things out with Mina, he’d go back to being the Gojo everyone knew. And you’d go back to being just... you.

You reached the front door of your apartment, the familiar hum of the city in the background, and paused. Turning to face Gojo, you smiled, though the weight of your thoughts lingered in the back of your mind.

"Thanks for walking me home," you said, keeping your voice light, though there was a little more softness to it than usual.

Gojo looked at you, his usual playful grin starting to creep back, but there was something different in his eyes. A flicker of sincerity from earlier still hung there. "Of course," he said with a casual shrug. "What would I do if you got caught up in some crazy situation without me? You know I can’t let that happen."

His voice was light, but the way he said it carried an undercurrent of care, something unspoken that made the words feel warmer than they usually would.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to help a small laugh. “I’m pretty sure I could manage, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He shot you that signature grin, the one that could charm just about anyone, but there was still a softness to it now—an openness that didn’t quite match his usual carefree demeanor.

"Hey, I’m just saying," he said with a smirk, "if you ever need a bodyguard, you know where to find me."

Despite the playfulness in his tone, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on both of you. The reality of the situation, of his relationship with Mina, still lingered in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment—this brief, real side of Gojo—might slip away once everything was sorted out.

You pushed the thought down and smiled, trying to keep the mood light. "I’ll keep that in mind," you replied, though part of you wasn’t sure you’d ever need him that way.

There was a brief pause, and then you cleared your throat, pulling yourself back into the present. "I really do hope things work out with Mina, Satoru," you said, your voice sincere. "You deserve to get everything figured out."

Gojo’s smile faltered slightly at the mention of Mina. It wasn’t the usual teasing grin anymore, but something softer, more thoughtful, as though the thought of her pulled him out of the moment for a second.

He reached up, almost absentmindedly, to ruffle your hair, a subtle attempt to lighten the mood. “You worry too much,” he said, his voice a little quieter, his fingers running through your hair in a playful but gentle motion.

You flinched, swatting his hand away lightly. “Satoru, come on, you’re messing it up.”

Gojo chuckled softly at your reaction, but instead of pulling his hand away, he kept it there, his fingers still resting on your head. He gave you a gentle pat this time, his touch light but lingering, almost like he didn’t want to break the moment just yet.

He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, as if there was something in his gaze that wasn’t quite matching his usual carefree attitude. For a split second, the usual playful energy around him seemed to dissipate, replaced by something softer. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Despite how many times Gojo had been touchy with you before, this time was different. His gaze felt heavier, more intense, and it made you feel uncomfortably aware of the way his hand rested on you. A soft heat spread through you, and before you knew it, your cheeks were flushing, the warmth creeping up your neck.

Then, almost absentmindedly, Gojo’s hand dropped from your hair to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft skin beneath your eye. You froze at the touch, your breath catching in your throat as the tender motion sent a shiver down your spine.

His touch was so gentle, so unexpectedly intimate, that it left you momentarily speechless. Gojo’s thumb continued its slow, soothing stroke over your cheek, his eyes still locked onto yours, watching the way your expression shifted.

For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the night, the world around you, even the uncertainty that had been lingering in the air. It was just him, just you, and the quiet tension that seemed to wrap itself around the both of you, neither of you daring to move or speak.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race, unsure of what this moment meant or how to react to it. You’d never felt quite so exposed in front of him, as if his touch and gaze were pulling something out of you that you didn’t know was there.

Gojo’s smile was still soft, his eyes not leaving yours, but there was something about the way he looked at you—something different than before. A strange vulnerability, maybe, or perhaps just a shared moment of silence that neither of you had the words to explain.

And for a heartbeat, everything felt... unsettled, as though the line between what was familiar and what was new had blurred just enough to make you question whether you were still in control of the situation.

You broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper, but it cut through the stillness like a soft breeze. “Satoru?”

The sound of your voice seemed to snap Gojo out of whatever trance he had been in. His eyes blinked rapidly, as though he were shaking himself back to reality, and the softness that had filled the air between you suddenly wavered.

Gojo blinked rapidly, his eyes shifting as if he were suddenly realizing what had just occurred. His hand pulled away from your cheek like it was almost burning, and he stepped back, an almost startled expression crossing his face. The teasing, playful demeanor faltered for a second, and you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes—not just from you, but perhaps from the moment itself.

"Ah... sorry," he muttered quickly, running a hand through his hair in an awkward gesture that didn’t quite match his usual calm. “Didn’t mean to... uh... get so close.”

He cleared his throat, visibly trying to regain his usual composure. With a shaky smile, he waved his hand as if brushing it off. "Anyway, I should get going."

You nodded, a strange tightness in your chest. He was already backing away, his voice lighter than before but with a hint of haste in it. "Take care, alright?" His tone was almost clipped, a sharp contrast to the softness that had lingered moments before.

You wanted to say something, to stop him, but the words got stuck in your throat. You simply watched as Gojo, with one last glance over his shoulder, turned and started walking down the hallway.

He didn't look back this time, his figure disappearing into the distance and then into the lift, the doors sliding shut behind him with a soft, almost final sound.

The quietness that followed felt almost suffocating, the cool night air filling the space where he had stood. You stood there, staring at the spot where he had just been, unsure of what to make of everything. Your heart was still racing, the lingering touch on your cheek echoing in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

As the sound of the elevator faded away, all you were left with was the lingering memory of him, his touch, his gaze—and the sudden weight of everything unsaid.

[nieceeee]

Can you do a story with ony about every time he buys her something she pays him back either in cash or getting him a gift just as expensive every time and he eventually catch’s on and asks her why to which she explains how at the end of her last relationship her ex was tryna to force her to pay him for “wasting his time” can it end in smut plz 🤭🤭😩

“ALL THE THINGS”

P/S: Most of your life your relationships have been transactional. You learned early on that nothing you get comes for free, especially with me. It was always a give and take. So when you got with Ony, you expected the same things. For every gift he got you, you made sure to double it because that's how the game goes right? Well Ony wasn't having that. He was going to get it through to you by any means necessary...

WC: 3.2k

A/N: DO NOT HATE ME! MNDI!! This took so much longer than I expected it to. But I hope you like it. It got me in my feelings a little bit ngl. Nicknames (pa, mamas, princess, babygirl) smutty, slight angst as well but there is smut and cute fluff, p in v, body worship, I think that’s all.

Life is about balance. The ebbs and flows are what makes the world go ‘round. Every action requires a reaction. It's a give and a take.

You took that literally.

Simply put, you have never known a love that wasn’t built on balance. And for as long as you could remember, every relationship you were involved in had been more of a checks and balances act that anything. It was all so…transactional.

See love has it's strings attached, no matter how the fairytales tries to spin it. It was an unwritten rule. In order to get what you wanted you had to give exactly that same thing or greater back. You needed to surpass expectations to have someone meet your own. You learned-- no, excelled at this. Now, could it have stemmed from deeper rooted insecurities of protecting yourself from being hurt. Sure.

I mean you were told at an early age from women in your life that nothing was truly free. Love, affections, kindness-- they all came with a cost. And you simply learned to play the game. Accept it with grace but never let them think they got one up on you. You remember the warning as clear as day. You kept your guard up, always matching every gesture, every gift, every ounce of attention you got from the people who mattered most. Because it had always been a give and take, and you’d be damned if you were ever the one left holding the bag.

Nonetheless this worked. It always worked. Until you met Ony.

Onyankopon came into your life like any other relationship would. He was sweet, charismatic, gentle. He was everything you could have ever asked for in a man. Patient, a rock when you needed him, and a safe space for you to just…be. When everything around you fell to chaos, he was the one thing that could lead you back into serenity. He quiet devotion to you was unmatched, making you feel seen and appreciated in every way a woman needed to be. Only was a simple gentleman who loved his lady. And he showed it even in the smallest of gestures--a hand-picked flower, a warm sweater on a cold day, a soft kiss on your forehead when you least expected it. It just felt right.

But with each gift, you felt a twinge of unease, a little tug in your chest. Those words repeating in your brain.

What was his endgame?

Ony loved you. Plain and simple. Anyone could see that. But yet you were so blinded by past hurt, you couldn’t step outside of your own head. Surely, he isn’t doing these things and expecting nothing back? No, it's just like before. So you did what you’ve always done. You matched him, made sure each gift was of equal or greater value. Yours needed to be more meaningful, more dramatic. You had to outdo him.

Every. Single. Time

It started early, a few weeks into your relationship--like when he bought you your favorite coffee from the cafe around the corner of your apartment that you loved so much. Of course you had to treat him to lunch the next day. “What’s this?” he asked when you walked in the house. He was working from home, headphones covering one of his ears. “I figured you were hungry so I wanted to bring you a treat.” you had replied. He smiled up at you, placing a gentle kiss against your temple. “Thank you baby girl.” his voice was soft with you, hands tracing gentle circles into your hips.

Further into your relationship, it continued. For you birthday, he bought you the beautiful tiffany princess cut diamond necklace that you were raving about one night as you scrolled on tiktok. “Omg, Pa look at this! It's gorgeous.” you had exclaimed. You saved it to your cart for you to buy later but he beat you to it. So what did you do? You bought him a Berluti Men’s leather jacket for his own birthday that you knew he had been eyeing for months.

But soon, the game escalated. You found yourself overthinking every little thing he did. Your mind wondering what you could give him in return. And no matter how hard you tried, you always felt like you had to top his gestures, matching him with something bigger, something better.

Ony had an inkling about your behavior for a while but he left it alone. Until your two year anniversary. That night, you sat together in his apartment, you hand him a gift--a black bag with two boxes inside. He smiles at you as he opens it up. Inside were two new grillz, one silver set and one gold set for his collection. His shocked expression morphed into a small smile of appreciation. “These are fire mamas, thank you so much.” he said before sitting them to the side. You smile bright at him “You deserve it baby.” you say to him.

Before you could even think, Ony placed the bag aside, reaching for a box from the table in front of him. You raised an eyebrow. "Hold up," Ony interrupted, his voice steady but serious. "I’ve got something for you too." He hands you the blue tiffany box with a bright white bow attached to the corner. “Wait,” you said, a little too quickly. “You didn’t get me anything else, did you? Because I just—"

He hands you the box, much smaller that the one you had given him. You hesitate for a moment as he opened it, revealing a stacked rose gold diamond ring. Your heart lurched in your chest. You blinked at the gift, unsure what to say. The ring was beautiful—perfect—but your immediate thought was that you needed to do better. Your mind raced, running through possible gifts you could return with, how you could top this beautiful piece of jewelry. Your instinct to outdo him kicked in, but then you saw the look on his face. He wasn’t waiting for you to match him.

“Ony…” you started, your voice wavering slightly. “I can’t just... take this. You know I—"

“Yeah, I know,” he said softly, cutting you off, his voice low. “That’s the problem.”

You blinked, confused. “The problem?” He sighed “I’ve been watching for a while and I didn’t know if I was for sure until now.” He lets you sit the box to the side and waits until you turn back towards him. “I noticed it a while back. The way your face contorts when you see me get you something. And before I know it you’ve repaid the favor.” he explains. “I mean we are in a relationship baby. That's what we do.” You attempt to laugh it off.

He leaned forward, his gaze steady as he watched you, his dark eyes soft but intense. “You’re not getting it, are you?” he said quietly, shaking his head. “You think everything has to be a transaction. That if I give you something, you have to give me something back. But that’s not how it works with me. Not with us.” he says “Ony, I’m not…” you speak up but you’re cut off

“Even in our bedroom. It’s like I can’t even please you without you feeling as if you need to outperform me.” He says. Your chest tightens at that statement. You hadn’t realized how much this had affected your relationship. You could see it now the wear and tear it was causing him. “Like don't get me wrong baby I love when we fuck but…sometimes I just want to make love to you.” he says gently.

You looked down at the ring, your fingers nervously tracing the gold, feeling the weight of his words. Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to process them.

“I don’t want you to match me,” Ony continued, his voice gentle but firm. “I’m not giving you this because I expect something in return. I’m giving it to you because I want to. Because I love you. And I don’t need anything back. Not right now, not ever.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking deep. A lump formed in your throat as you felt the sting of emotion build up inside you. Ony wasn’t playing the game. He was giving you something real. Something without strings attached. Yet you struggled to accept it.

“I...” You found it hard to speak, the words getting caught in your throat. “I don’t know how to accept that. I’ve always had to give something back. I’ve always had to prove...”

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” he interrupted softly, reaching out to take your hands in his, his touch warm and grounding. “Look,” he said gently. “I don’t know who he is that made you feel like this. Or who they were that told you that this is the only way you can receive love. It’s not.” He says softly ”But you don’t understand. It not okay for you to do for me and I don’t do for you.” You attempt to explain tears burning your eyes. “You can do for me. But do for me because you love me and appreciate me. Not because you feel like you have something to prove.”

“You don’t have to keep playing that game, baby. You’re enough just as you are. I love you, and that’s not conditional. It’s not about what you give me. It’s about what we give each other. And if you can’t accept that, then we need to have a different conversation.”

Your heart ached, a flood of emotions threatening to spill over. You had spent so much of your life protecting yourself, hiding behind the walls of your own expectations, and here was Ony, asking you to tear them down. To let him love you without the conditions you had always set in place.

You took a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his hands around yours. “I’m scared,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I know,” he replied, his voice tender, the understanding in his eyes never wavering. “But you don’t have to be anymore. You don’t have to do anything, or be anyone, to deserve my love. You’ve got me. No strings attached.”

And with those few words, you felt the walls inside you begin to crack. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over as you let out a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of his words settle in your chest.

He caresses your head gently, kissing away your tears. You don’t move, allowing him to nurture you. Ony pulls you closer to him. Kissing down to your lips. After a few minutes, you pull back. “Your lips are salty.” you giggle. Laughter fills the air as tension leaves both your bodies. Ony picks the box up and opens it, the ring on full display. “Ony…” you start. “This is my vow to you. My vow to love you endlessly if you let me. To give you all of me and more. No questions asked. My promise that you have all of me.” he slips the ring onto your finger. “It's beautiful baby. Thank you.” you lean up and press a kiss against his lips. His kisses you gently, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth.

You whimper in his touch. “Ony.” you speak breathlessly. He hums before kissing you again. Heat rises in your body as his hands trail up your thighs. You whine, wiggling closer to him. Ony pulls back a bit from you. “Wha…” you startle. “I want you to allow me to love you and please you without conditions. Can you do that for me?” He asks. You look into his eyes burning with sincerity and a sense of newfound peace washes over you. “Yes” you answer and you feel yourself being lifted up. You smile as Ony carries you back into your bedroom and places you gently on the bed.

“Just let me worship you baby. Like you deserve.”

He speaks before gently removing your clothes. His eyes rake over your body, taking in the curves of every part of you. “Fuck, you're so fucking pretty.” he said, hands caressing every part of you. His fingertips trace your neck and down to your nipples, circling them gently. Your back lifts from the bed but he presses you back down carefully. “Relax mamas, let me take care of you.” he cooes, continuing his descent down your body. His feather light fingers move down your torso and to your thighs. He draws gentle shapes into your inner thighs, massaging your body to loosen you up. “Breathe deep for me mamas. In and out. Focus on your breathing.” he whispers before moving his head down to your pussy.

His nose grazes against your clit and your body jolts. Ony’s thick hands come back up and flatten you back against the mattress again. “Relax baby. Keep breathing for me.” You will your body to relax as he resumes his actions. Nose grazing against the meaty flesh, he begins to pepper soft kisses along your skin. Tantric breathing methods allow your body to release the tension you held in your muscles as Ony’s lips press against your already wet one. He makes out with your pussy, softly tugging your lips into his mouth and using his tongue to flick your clit ever so often.

“Fuck pa. Right there. Don’t stop.” you whine. Ony’s kisses are slow and deliberate. His pace is steady, tongue dragging from opening to clit, like a cat lapping at it's milk. “You so fucking sweet.” he growls into your pussy, warm breath blowing into your pussy. Your pussy clenches around nothing, causing more of your juice to pour out, landing right on his tongue. “Fuck.” You gasp for air. Your toes shape into ‘C’s as Ony explores your body. Mouth pleasuring you as his hands grip and knead at your flesh. Your juices drip down his chin as he slurps you down, soft moans release from his chest at the sight of your arousal. Ony’s dick hardens as he presses his hips into the mattress to relieve pressure while he honors your body. Your eyes roll back as your head presses back into the pillow, breathing doing little to keep shivers from racing through your body.

“Ony baby, please.” you whine, hips grinding against his face while his tongue fucks your center. Your pussy so wet, the sounds echoing through the room as she sings sweet music to him. Ony was in a trance, getting lost in your essence. The speed of his tongue increases causing sparks to sizzle underneath your skin, alerting your body of the pending release. Your moans get louder as your breathing gets heavy, Your hands reach down to grip the back of his head, hips stuttering against his face. “Ony, Fuck Pa, I’m gonna cum.” You’re borderline groveling as your body begins to convulse, saccharine secretions glaze his beard as you call out his name.

You struggle to catch your breath as Ony finally comes up for hair, lickign you from his lips. “You ready for me baby?” he asks, dick hardened beneath his boxers. “I-...” you breaths still trying to level themselves out, “Are you sure you don't need me to help you baby?” you manage to push out between breaths. “No mamas. Just let me praise you like the muse you are.” his deep praises caress the deepest parts of your heart, mending unspoken wounds with each word. He steps forward, pulling his dick from his boxers and gently slapping your swollen clit with his tip. “You’re my princess, yeah?” he asks softly looking down at the gold mine between your legs. “Y-yes.” you respond to him. “Remember that. Always.” he slips his tip through your entrance. “Onyyyy, fuck baby.” you body clenches, attempting to pull him in deeper. “Tell me you deserve it baby.” his eyes meet yours, brown irises burning with intensity. “I deserve iitttt…” your words drag as he sheaths himself all the way inside you.

“You deserve it all baby girl. You’re so fucking precious to me.” the sweet words contrast with the thickness of his voice as his hips jut forward, strokes deepening and increasing in speed. Only’s hands trail your body, one hand coming up to gentle press against your throat as the other locks your wrists above your head. His body leans closer, strokes shallowing as his hips grind into yours, words of praise whispered against your skin as he caters to every need that your body requests. Both bodies move in tandem as breaths deepen and arousals heighten. You feel your body teetering on the edge of another climax. Only can tell by the way your pussy grips him desperately, craving him.

“Ony, I’m..I’m c-close.” you cry out, body begging for him. “It's okay. Give it to me princess.” he commands. “Bless me with your essence baby. Release it all for me.”

You don't register the sounds being released are yours until your body starts to shake in his arms. Tears fall from the corners of your eyes slipping down your face and around your ears. Bed wet with your tears and your release as your aura explodes from inside of you. Ony’s breaths choppy as he requests, “Can I pour into you princess?” he whispers brokenly into your ear. Words don’t come so you feverishly nod your head in agreement. His growl follows his nut as you feel your pussy warm from his release coating your gummy walls. You both sit, holding each other as you come down from your high.

After a moment, Ony raises up. “All good or one more?” He asks using his thumb to swipe the tears from your eyes. “All good Pa. Thank you.” You let out. Ony rises up and goes into the bathroom. Your eyes flutter open and closed as you let yourself calm down. He returns with a warm towel and works on cleaning you up. He replaces your clothes with a warm t shirt of his and gets fresh blankets for the bed.

You sit and allow it. It feels good being on this side. Your heart feels light as you watch him move around the room getting everything comfortable for you. “Better?” He asks. “Better.” You repeat as a response. “Good. Now take your pretty ass down while I go get you something to eat.”

Ony didn’t ask for anything in return. He gave freely, unconditionally. And maybe, for the first time in your life, you realized you could do the same. He came back in the room with your food and slipped underneath the covers with you, pulling your body in his warmth. You pulled him into an embrace, wrapping your arms around him tightly, as if trying to hold onto the love he was offering you.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I love you too,” Ony murmured, holding you even tighter, as if he never wanted to let go.

In that moment, everything changed. You didn’t need to play the game anymore. You didn’t need to prove anything. You just needed to accept what was right in front of you: a love that was simple, pure, and free from the weight of expectations.

And for the first time in your life, it was enough.

[torturedlexdepartment]

Sorry

Rafe Cameron x reader

Author's note: again, I apologize 💀

Warnings: ANGST, breaking up

Summary: after a year of trying to force feelings, you decide to finally break it off with Rafe

I stared down at my phone as I sat at the foot of my bed. Seven missed calls and an unfeasible amount of text messages from Rafe. I knew it was a bad idea to have the “this isn’t working anymore” conversation through text, but I was a coward. I didn’t want to have to look him in the face and explain myself. And now that he was blowing me up, I just wanted to run and hide.

I was just about to shut my phone off when I heard the sound of a truck pulling up outside. My worst damn nightmare. I should have figured Rafe would show up at my house the second I started ignoring him. I had known the man my entire life, how did I not think of this? I watched him out my window as he climbed up my steps and pounded on my front door. My car was outside so there was no denying that I was home. I sighed deeply before meeting him at my door.

“What the fuck Y/N? You can’t send that text then ghost me.” He pushed past me and I closed the door. I stayed turned away from him, not wanting to see his eyes beaming on me but I could still feel them. “Are you going to explain to me what you meant?” Tears started to well in my eyes and he spun me around to face him. His whole demeanor softened and he brought his hands up to rest on my cheeks.

“I just don’t think we should be together anymore.”

“Why?” I could tell he was trying to stay calm and collected and it just made this whole situation more impossible for me to bare..

“I just think we are better as friends.” He huffed as he stared down at me.

“All of a sudden? Out of nowhere Y/N?” What he didn’t realize is that these feelings of mine were not all of a sudden. I had always kind of felt this way. We have been friends for years and when he confessed his feelings for me, I thought I owed this a real shot. I thought I could fall for him and lord knows I tried. But how could I love him when I couldn’t love myself?

“I’ve always felt this way, Rafe.” He took a step back from me. I knew my words stung.

“Y/N, we’ve been together for over a year.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to let the tears start trailing down my face.

“I know and I’m sorry, okay. I tried.”

“You tried? What does that even mean? You could have said something after a month or two Y/N.” He started pacing around my living room with his hands up in the air, sometimes running them through his hair. I hated that I was making him feel this way. I could feel his fear and anxiety and it made me feel one hundred times worse.

“I tried to give us a real shot. I’m so sorry, okay.” He barely let me finish before he questioned me.

“You don’t love me?” I felt frozen in place. I didn’t want to lie but there was no way to answer this question without hurting us both more.

“I care about you and you mean the world to me, Rafe.” I tried to walk up to him, to comfort him. I reached for him but he pushed my hands away.

“Answer the question Y/N, because you know I love you more than fucking anything.” I took a deep breath. I didn’t want this conversation to have to go down this path but it was the only way he was going to get it.

“Rafe, you don’t even know me.” He stopped pacing and snapped his head to look right at me. He looked at me like I was a crazy person and I’d be lying if I tried to say I didn’t start feeling like one.

“I’ve known you since we were kids so how exactly does that make sense?”

“You know what I want you to know.” I was running out of ways to try and explain myself. I wished he could have just accepted what I wanted and left me alone.

“What does that even mean Y/N?”

“You know the parts that I’ve allowed you to see, gotten as close as I’ve allowed you to. You don’t know everything okay. I’ve barely allowed you to scratch the surface. And if we keep going with this, I’m going to let you dig deeper and then you’ll see the real me, and I can’t let it happen.” I finally allowed myself to be vulnerable with someone and I hated the feeling.

“Y/N, you’re crazy if you think that after all this time that anything you say is going to scare me off. I already see you regardless of what lies you’re trying to tell yourself.” I was getting unbelievably frustrated. He wasn’t going to stop.

“Look, you deserve someone that doesn’t have to question how they feel, someone who knows what they want.” I didn’t realize that he was walking over to me until I stopped talking and looked up. He leaned down to kiss me and I pushed him away angrily. “Don’t do that!” He was trying to convince me and I refused to let him change my mind. It didn’t matter how much I cared about him or how much I wished this could work.

“Y/N will you just stop?” He pleaded.

“I don’t love you, Rafe. Not the same way. And I don’t think I ever can.” As I said the words, I could literally see the light leave his eyes. He looked down at the floor and held his tongue. He was fighting back tears that he didn’t want me to see. We both stood there silently for a few moments before he walked past me, right out the door. I found myself aching to say something, but there was nothing left to say.

I walked over to my window and watched him speed off out of my driveway and out of my life. The only relief I had was knowing that he was now free for someone else to love. And one day I’ll stop wishing that it could have been me.

[cherrycranes]

Religious Experience (Damien O'Donovan x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Damien O'Donovan x Fem!Reader Summary: You had always been in love with Damien, and now that he's about to leave, he decides to show you just how much he loves you too with God Himself as his witness. Word count: 4,060 Contents: (Minors DNI). Some fluff, reader is 20, Damien 24. praise & body worship, unprotected sex, cum eating. BLASPHEMY, lots of it. If you're catholic please just refrain from reading this I warn you. As a former catholic, I poured all my religious knowledge (and disrespect) here. Author's notes: My usual collab with my dear @fuckiingloser. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Pinterest moodboard at the end so you can visualize! Stream "Experiencia Religiosa" by Enrique Iglesias, the inspiration behind this fic title lol.

Ever since you could remember you had always had feelings for Damien, the handsome, slightly older neighbor boy who was friends with your older brother. Getting him out of your little head was impossible. Everywhere you went, you saw him. Around town, at church every sunday morning, in the open fields when you returned from school or even in between the fog of your dreams. It could have been just a silly little girl crush had it not transpired into your young adult years.

It was your 19th birthday about a year and a few months ago. By that time, your well established infatuation with Damien had learned how to hide in the depths of your heart, convinced that it might just never be. Still, something finally happened, something that made you see stars and feel heat in places nobody had reached yet.

After your birthday party had ended, and all your friends were making their way home, you and Damien shared a soft, passionate kiss in the barn, born from an impulse or maybe a secret desire. You felt like you were dreaming. Damien was as gentle and sweet as you had always imagined, even more so. He kissed you like you were made from the most delicate fine china, and you would have melted in his arms and told him everything you had always felt for him, had your brother not interrupted you by calling his name. After this brief encounter, nothing else happened. You even started to doubt it ever happened at all. You and Damien just saw each other occasionally on the streets and shared a couple of smiles and waves, and sometimes a few flirty comments, but nothing more.

You were 20 now, and Damien was set to leave for England in less than 3 days to go work and study in one of the best hospitals in the world, something he’d always dreamed of. Leaving your small irish town behind to pursue bigger and better things in life. And sadly, it also meant that you were going to be left behind too…

Sitting on your usual spot next to your family in the sunday mass, you couldn't help but feel Damien’s eyes burning into you. The O’Donovans always sat on the bench behind yours, and you were used to Damien’s presence there, quite often right behind you. But that day it felt… different… 

You slowly turned around to look, and sure enough, Damien’s pale blue eyes connected with yours. He gave you a soft little smile that made you blush and immediately face forward again, trying so hard to concentrate on the Father’s words and failing miserably. 

The rest of the mass, you felt Damien’s eyes on you, and not even the presence of Jesus Christ himself would have been able to prevent the thoughts that started to flood your mind… And the feelings that caressed you insides like a lick of fire. 

During the sign of the peace, when you had to shake hands with everybody around your seat, you felt less than holy when it was time to shake Damien’s. His body heat lingered on you, his gentleness made you drift back to the one kiss you shared, and his beautiful eyes made you tingle and blush once more. The mass ended not long after.

All the families congregated outside the church to talk before leaving to head home. You were hanging by the steps, waiting for your parents to finish their chit chat with some neighbors, when you suddenly felt a hand touching your shoulder.

“Hiya..” Damien said with his warm voice and with a gleam on his crystal blue eyes.

“Hi, Damien…” You whispered with a shy little smile, your head still reeling.

“You look pretty…” Oh, he could have killed you with that. More heat traveled to your face when you noticed his eyes roaming over you. “Couldn't help but stare…” 

“Thanks… You look handsome...” You struggled to reply, your ability to speak almost gone at the sight of his gentle smirk and his elegant dark blue suit that made him look even more mature and dreamy.

“My new suit for my new job…” Damien stepped a little closer to you, looking down into your eyes only a few inches from your face. “You know i leave soon…” he started again after an awkward pause and you nodded, a wave of sadness washed over the fire, reminding you once more that he was leaving everything behind, you included.

 “Yes, I know. Can’t believe you’re finally getting away from here like you always dreamed.” The sweet excitement in your voice was mostly just a facade, of course you were glad he was going to live his dreams, but the possibility of never seeing him again twisted your guts. Damien smiled, looking down at his feet silently for a second before making eye contact with you again. 

“It's not the only dream I have that hasn’t come true yet…” He whispered, his hand reaching out to graze yours softly. People shuffled by you but, at that moment, the entire earth was just you and him. Time slowed down and his touch left goosebumps on your skin.

“W-what do you mean?…” Your heart fluttered a bit, slight confusion clouded your mind as his eyes bore into yours. His hand came up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, and you were almost certain he was going to finally address what had been going on between you for over a year now, when suddenly, you heard your mother calling your name…

“Meet me here tonight, around 8pm…” Damien whispered with a hint of urgency, his eyes checking towards your family. “Back entrance…”

“I promise…” You whispered, your mum walking up to you and politely greeting Damien before reminding you your father was waiting. 

“Bye, Damien…” You had to say, intrigued by the prospects of the clandestine meeting. As you reluctantly left, you gave him a little smile and a wave that he returned. 

The rest of the day was filled with overthinking from your part. You suspected something but you couldn't be certain of anything. Still, you trusted him, and as soon as 8 pm neared, you managed to slip out of the house and rode your bike to the church, hiding it in the trees and making your way around the back. There was Damien, still suited, leaning against the church backdoor, lost in thought. His beautiful gaze rose from the ground and met yours the second he heard you coming, and a lovely smile grew upon his rosy lips.

“You came…” He whispered, pulling you into a warm, protective hug, with your head gently laid on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around you.  

“Of course…” You whispered into the fabric of his vest, taking in his scent for a moment before pulling back to look into his eyes. The cold autumn wind blew and caused you to shiver ever so slightly, Damien noticed right away and, with his charming smile, pulled out a key ring from his pocket.

“Seán’s an altar boy this year… He gave me the keys…” The metal jingled quietly in Damien’s hands, and without much struggle, he found the key to the backdoor and opened it for you. He ushered you inside the dark yet familiar empty church. The darkened faces of Mother Mary and Saint Patrick stared at you from their dim candlelit spots. The full moon shone beautifully through the stained glass art, where several more saints looked at you with neutral expressions. Saint Thomas, Saint John, Saint Matthew and all the other names you had forgotten about for being so busy thinking about Damien during mass, neither of them judged you for being here. They just radiated in color and stared from their high spots.

“What did you wanna say?” Your whisper broke the silence, Damien’s hand made its way on top of yours in an act that momentarily made you fear he was going to break bad news to you. The flames of the candles flickered on his pale blue eyes, he released a soft breath before finally speaking.

“Well… I just wanted to tell you the truth…  The truth about how I feel for you…” Damien squeezed your hand gently, he could almost feel your pulse quickening. “How I’ve felt since we were kids… It's always been you…” 

It was a soft, gentle and very much awaited for confession. It felt like the saints above you had finally had mercy on your heart. Your gaze softened and the butterflies in your stomach reproduced en masse. If this had been just a dream, you would have spent the rest of your life asleep in hopes to dream it again.

“Ever since that kiss in the barn last year… I haven’t stopped thinking about wanting to do it again… And now that I'm leaving, I just knew I had to tell you how I feel…” Oh, but this was real. Very real. You could feel the warmth of his hands and the reverberation of his voice as he confessed. You could feel your eyes widening and your heart beating madly, ready to burst with his next words.

“When I come home this time next year… I want to marry you… Right here in this church.” This much happiness had never filled your chest before, you almost died and miraculously resurrected for all the saints to see. His confession was everything you ever wanted. “It’s you… It’s always been you…” 

In between your overjoyment, you could tell he was a little nervous, just as afraid to lose you as you were afraid of losing him. You eased his fears with a gentle smile and a squeeze to his hand that he reciprocated immediately.

“I love you, Damien… I've loved you for a long time…” You confessed, your voice soft and so dear to him. “I've thought about that kiss every single day too...” 

His beautiful eyes softened and he came much closer to you, holding your hand near his beating chest.

“I just want to show you how much I care before I leave…” He said sincerely. “I had to kiss you again, taste your lips one last time before I left… Something both of us can remember when i’m away..” 

He leaned closer, and you didn’t think about it for a second. Your soft lips met him halfway in a gentle, innocent kiss that made his hand come up to touch your cheek in adoration. You were his precious love, the woman he wanted to marry, the only one he wanted and desired… Carefully, his other hand tested the feeling of your thigh over your skirt, just gently, before pulling back a little.

“Is this okay?” He asked softly. 

“Yes, Damien… I want you… I want all of you…” You allowed yourself to admit after so long, the colorful lights of the stained glass windows colored your face in different hues, all matched the love in your eyes and the growing, unspoken desire between the two of you.

Another kiss followed, this time much more needier and too sinful for the sacred ground you were on. His hands held the small of your back and desired to go lower, his warm tongue licked your lower lip in search of entrance and you obliged happily. The candles had now been overshadowed by your burning passion. Something notoriously stirred in Damien’s trousers and something dampened between your skirt, and without much consideration for the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, you decided to take action.

“I want you to be my first… I want to make love to you before you go…” His breath hitched a bit at your words and his eyes widened. No more words were needed. Another searing kiss followed, his hand held the back of your head with gentleness and caressed you with reverence. Your tongues melted together with an obscene sticky sound that was followed by a groan of his. 

His hand reached up to rub your breast over your sweater, giving it a soft squeeze. You moaned softly into the kiss, every nerve ending of your wet cunt reacting sweetly to him. Damien chuckled softly against your lips before pulling away.

“Love the little noises you make… Need to hear more…” He smiled against your lips, before going in for another sensual kiss. His alabaster teeth nipped at your bottom lip gently, teasing just how much he wanted to devour you.

“You know… I've touched myself thinking about you..” You admitted without even really thinking. The colors of the stained glass mimicking the heat that rushed to your cheeks when you realized what you had just blurted out. Damien loved it, however. His smirk grew wider and his hand moved to gently squeeze your thigh and the fabric covering it.

“Is that so?” He growled softly, his cock twitching at your words. “Show me…please…” He whispered, his eyes traced every feature of yours as his strong hand traced every detail of your clothed thigh. With a gentle bite to your own lip, you discarded every bit of catholic guilt and fear of divine punishment in favor of your own desires. God forgive you both for breaking the sixth commandment in His very house, but two people this in love could never be sinful.

Slowly, you sat yourself up on the white marble altar, the intricate decor and golden crucifix behind you crowning you like the angel you were to Damien’s eyes. You pulled your skirt up around your waist, showing him your white cotton underwear and soft thighs. His gaze stayed glued to you as you moved your hand towards your covered clit, your index fingertip giving you both just what you wanted. You moaned softly, teasing yourself. A glance down towards his trousers allowed you to find an aching tent in there, and a glance up towards his chest made you see just how heavy his breathing had gotten. 

Damien’s eyes flickered adoringly over you when you slipped your hand under the waistband of your panties and ran a finger between your sticky folds, letting out a series of sweet little moans that were like music to his ears. 

He leaned forward, drawn in by you. He hooked his fingers on the side of your underwear and slowly pulled them off you, needing to see everything like he needed air. The fabric now laid on the altar steps and your glistening pussy was exposed for him, all the saints on the windows and God Himself to see.

“Every part of you is so beautiful…” Damien whispered with lust and love filled words. 

You smiled, your finger sliding down and gently slipping inside your pretty and eager cunt to give it careful pumps in and out. Slick covered all the way down to your knuckle, and Damien’s mouth watered.

“Holy fuck… You are unbelievable..” He whispered, eyes full of amazement. You let out a series of little whines and moans for every praise he gave. Confidence filled you and desire burnt through you. Your finger kept teasing you physically and him mentally.

“Damien…” You moaned softly. “Want you inside…” 

No more sweet begging needed, Damien’s hand immediately went to the button of his trousers and as quick as a flicker of the candle lights his pants were pulled down to his thighs. The tent in his underwear was painfully obvious. Your cunt throbbed around your finger at the sight.

After a second or more of your pussy soaking and squeezing your moving finger, Damien pulled his boxers down, his hard cock bobbing free with its head sticky with beads of precum. Like the moonlight that bathed the town, Damien loomed over you, parting your legs with his hands and gently grabbing your wrist. You whimpered at the loss of your finger inside your aching cunt. 

“My turn…” He whispered gently, blue eyes admiring the glistening slick on your index and how it reflected the dim lights. A little grinning devil inside you coaxed you to hold it up to him and offer him a taste. He smirked and gave in to the temptation, sucking your finger clean with eyes closed and with a satisfied hum. His tongue moved around it for every last bit of your taste, and when none was left, he pulled it out of his mouth slowly.

“You taste like heaven…” He whispered with a smile, a mischievous giggle left your lips at the humor of it all. The crucified golden Jesus above you would have rolled his metallic eyes at you two had they not been closed. But even then, He would have understood.

Needily, you watched Damien’s hand guiding his cock towards your folds and tapping the tip a few times against them. You whimpered from the anticipation alone.

“Ready for me, love?” He whispered and you nodded, feeling more sure now than ever before.

His eyes fell to his cock and, carefully, he positioned himself at your entrance. A soft gasp escaped your lips and he pushed into you, finding you warm, wet, tight and so delicious. He went in slowly, savoring you, each hand laid on the marble altar on each side of your hips. His handsome face contorted in loving pleasure was inches away from yours when he finally pushed all the way in.

Your arms snaked around him, holding him as close to you as possible. He let you adjust to his size, sweet little moans telling him just how well you were taking him in.

“You feel so good around me…I love you…” Damien whispered adoringly, and your heart did a jump that competed to be much more intense than the feeling of your little cunt. Hearing those words from him did everything to make you feel… Well, truly blessed.

After a minute of your folds adjusting to him, he started to move, his hips slowly pumping back and forth and setting a perfect passionate pace. You moaned with a pretty sound that resonated within the church walls like a choir, all the discomfort gone and replaced with pleasure. 

“Oh my God….” You blasphemed, looking right into his eyes. His hot breath caressed your face like his hands would, his needy groan met your lips quickly, your mouth granting his tongue entrance like your wet pussy had granted entrance to his cock.

Damien devoured your mouth with a hard, wet kiss. His hips pistoned a bit faster and harder into you, hitting spots no finger of yours could ever reach. You both moaned into each other's mouths, your fingernails clawed into his shirt and back and held you tight.

In search for air, he pulled away from your lips but kept fucking you into the warming marble, your face twisted in delicious extasy for him. The colors on the windows reflected over your bodies so beautifully, convincing you that God did not mind if His house was used for something like this.

“God, you are just perfect…  Your pretty pussy, pretty face… pretty body.” Damien panted as his hips continued to move into you, truly and dedicatedly making love to you.

“My perfect girl…” He cooed before burying his face into the crevice of your neck, leaving hot kisses on the skin. “I’m not gonna last much longer… You feel too good..” He groaned into your neck, nipping at it a bit. Of all sins he was committing on that altar, lying was not one of them. His hip thrusts did get a little sloppier, his release came closer and closer each second and his kisses to your neck became much more desperate, as if he tried to ground himself.

You moaned at the feeling, overwhelmed by the sheer realization that all your dreams and fantasies had come true. The man you had always loved and thought about daily for years was on the brink of an orgasm in your sweet little cunt and giving you pleasure. 

He moved away from the skin of your neck and looked into your eyes, his almost rolled back but he fought for control.

“Jesus, I’m gonna come…” He whined a bit, his thrusts getting slower by the second, and before you both knew it, and perhaps as a little punishment by Christ Himself for using his name in such a filthy sentence, Damien actually came. His eyes squeezed shut and everything spilled deep in your cunt just as quick as it had started. 

He gently lowered his forehead to yours, the last bits of his thick cum seeping out of his cock with a few more pulsations, leaving him out of breath.

“Woah…” He whispered in disbelief after a minute of basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. “I’ve never felt anything that intense in my life…” He admitted, nuzzling his nose against yours and making you smile. A soft kiss followed suit along with a loving caress to your cheek.

“It felt so good when you finished inside me.” Shyness had no place in you now that his cum was dripping out of you, but it still managed to make its way into your voice. He found it absolutely adorable.

“Same for me..” He admitted. Carefully, he pulled back, his now softened cock out of you. He groaned at the sight of himself covered in both of you, he spread your legs open just to get a good look at what he had done to you.

“Oh…” He breathed out, admiring your puffy cunt and the way his semen dripped out of you and tainted the marble surface “Jesus…” Damien was marveled, Jesus nailed up high probably wasn’t. Still, something stirred in Damien, and the way he licked his lips foreshadowed just what it was.

“What's wrong?” You whispered, unease finding you again.

“Nothing… I've just never seen something so erotic… My cum dripping out of you… Looks unreal…” Damien was still out of breath, his cock twitched and threatened to get hard again just from the sight. His words,while flattering and loved, made you realize just how exposed you were. Suddenly, the detailed eyes of all the glass art apostles were very much pointed towards you. Looking at Damien was the only thing that reassured you of just how beautiful and right this was.

Without another word, Damien he leaned his head down, arms hooking around your thighs as he dived into your pussy. You gasped loudly, his tongue swiped easily across your leaking hole. You heard and felt him groan at the taste of both of you mixed together on his tongue. 

Your hand immediately found his soft brown hair, gripping it for leverage as you arched your back into his mouth. Obscene, sinful slurping sounds came from him, and moans came from you. Nothing could have ever prepared you for this, it was maddening. 

He hummed into your pussy, communion happening right between your thighs as he devoured your flesh and drank you both. He was like a starved man, and your pussy was the purest manna. 

“Damien… Oh-oh my God…” Blasphemies poured from your lips in the form of lovely cries, your eyes were on the vaulted ceiling as if the hand of God had torn the skies open in front of you. It was the first time in this very church that you actually felt a religious experience.

Damien’s tongue slowed down a bit, moving slowly against you before stopping and slowly pulling back. He looked at you, his face completely flushed and so proud of himself. 

“Woah…” You whispered, completely astonished. 

“Just looked so good… And we had to clean you up anyway, baby…” He whispered sensually, his hand softly rubbed your inner thigh and he leaned in for one last slow kiss. You could taste the faint mixture of your fluids on his tongue, it made your head reel. When he pulled away, he took your breath with him.

“I need to have my girl again before I leave… Meet here at the same time tomorrow night?” He asked, hopeful. You smiled, catching your breath.

“Of course…” You whispered, filling his eyes with love and excitement. With his hands holding your face so preciously, and in front of God Himself, Damien repeated an earlier statement that was the whole truth…

“I always knew you were the only one for me…” 

Pinterest moodboard so you can visualize this fic. Made by @fuckiingloser!

[starsjulia]

Święta with You // alexia putellas

a/n : happy first of december, i’m sad and wanted to kinda write about my life (even though i am going back to poland for Christmas)

warnings : tiny bit of homophobic families, then fluff, and also the readers polish

Christmas had always been your favorite time of year. Back in Poland, the holiday season meant tradition, chaos, and, above all, family. You would spend hours helping your babcia in the kitchen, rolling dough for pierogi and making barszcz with beets that stained your hands. The cold air outside would carry the sound of carolers, and even amidst family arguments, the festive spirit was undeniable.

But this year was different. For the first time, you were far from home, celebrating Christmas in Spain with Alexia and her family. You loved her with every fiber of your being, but a part of you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest.

——————

Alexia found you sitting by the window that morning, staring out at the rolling hills. The sunlight was soft, but the festive warmth inside the house felt far away. She approached you quietly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Estás bien, amor?” she asked softly.

You looked up and forced a smile. “I’m okay. Just… thinking.”

Alexia crouched beside you, studying your face. “Tell me,” she urged, switching to English.

You hesitated, unsure if you could even put the feelings into words. “I just… I miss it,” you said finally. “Christmas back home. The traditions, the snow, the way my family used to come together—even if we argued the rest of the year.”

Alexia frowned, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m sorry, cariño. I know how it’s hard being away. But… is there something else? You seem… sadder than usual.”

A lump formed in your throat as you nodded. “They didn’t invite me, Alexia. My family. They didn’t invite me for Christmas. I know they don’t really accept us yet, but I thought, for one day, they might…”

Alexia’s eyes filled with sympathy as she pulled you into her arms. “Oh, mi amor,” she whispered, holding you tightly. “Lo siento. I’m so sorry.”

You leaned into her, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “I keep thinking about how, even when they fought, Christmas was the one time they made it work. But now, because of who I love, I don’t even get that. It’s like… I don’t exist to them anymore, I didn’t do anything wrong, I just love, I don’t know.”

Alexia didn’t say anything right away. She just held you, her hands running soothingly up and down your back. After a moment, she pulled back slightly to look at you.

“Listen, mi amor,” she said, her voice firm but full of love. “I know it hurts, and I hate that they’re making you feel this way. But you’re not alone. Aquí, con mi familia, tienes un hogar. You have a home here—with me. And we’ll make this Christmas beautiful, I promise.”

Her words, so steady and full of conviction, brought a fresh wave of tears. But this time, they weren’t entirely sad. You nodded, leaning your forehead against hers. “Thank you, Alexia. For everything.”

“Siempre,” she whispered. “Always.”

——————

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of preparations. Alexia insisted that you show her every detail of your transitions, from cooking the dishes to setting the table.

“What’s this one called again?” she asked, gesturing to the dough you were rolling out.

“Pierogi,” you said, smiling as you worked. “This one will have potatoes and cheese, and this one—” you pointed to another batch—“will be sweet, with fruit.”

She furrowed her brow in concentration as you showed her how to fold the edges. “So, I pinch here?”

“Close,” you said, reaching over to guide her hands. “Like this.”

Alexia glanced at you, her lips twitching into a small smile. “If I learn to make these, will you marry me sooner?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You’ve already proposed, remember? No need to bribe me with pierogi.”

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “But what if I want to make you fall in love with me all over again?”

You laughed, your chest warming despite the lingering sadness. “Then you’re off to a good start.”

—————

When the table was finally set, you carefully placed the opłatek wafers in the center. Alexia’s family gathered around, curious but respectful as you explained the tradition in halting Spanish.

“Es para compartir bendiciones, blessings,” you said, fumbling over the words. Alexia stepped in to help translate, her hand brushing yours as she spoke.

One by one, her family broke pieces of the wafer with you, sharing kind words and wishes for the year ahead. When it was Alexia’s turn, she took a piece from your hand, her dark eyes locking onto yours.

“Wszystkiego najlepszego na święta,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion.

Alexia smiled, her accent clumsy but endearing as she repeated the words. “Wszystkiego… najlepszego… na święta.”

You laughed, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Perfect.”

“Did I say it right?” she asked, her expression earnest.

“Close enough,” you teased, wiping your eyes.

—————

Later that evening, after dinner and a few christmas songs, Alexia pulled you aside.

“I have something for you,” she said, leading you to the couch. She handed you a carefully wrapped box, her face glowing with anticipation.

You opened it slowly, revealing a scrapbook. On the cover was your name, written in both the Polish and Spanish version.

Inside, the pages were filled with photos and mementos Alexia had collected throughout your relationship. There were pictures from your first date, tickets from your trip to Poland, and pressed flowers from the bouquet she’d given you when she proposed. But what caught your breath was the final page—a letter, written in her slightly messy Polish handwriting.

“I know I didn’t get everything right,” she said nervously. “I had help from a translation app and your friends, but…”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you read the words. It was a promise to always honor your traditions, to build a life together filled with love and understanding.

“Alexia…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

She smiled softly, wiping a tear from your cheek. “I wanted you to know that even if your family doesn’t see you, I do. And I always will.”

You threw your arms around her, holding her as tightly as you could. “I love you so much,” you whispered.

“Te amo más,” she replied, her voice steady.

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of her love and the home you were building together, you realized that while some wounds might take time to heal, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[shes-an-artist]

My Snowman and Me - Bucky Barnes fluff

summary: you and Bucky have a snow day

 Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff and you guessed it, fluff

A/n: So I may or may not have gotten everything accurate but there's more fluff in here than I wish to admit. And it might have been a litter longer than needed, but what the bloody heck, who cares, have some fluff.

You had never seen so much snow in your life. True, you'd seen the pictures of New York during Christmas time, but you'd never actually BEEN there. And it was worth every moment.

And your boyfriend was there too. 

Not that he wasn't absolute boyfriend material, and he was. Or is, however you wanted to put it. Bucky was a perfect gentleman. 

Tony had texted you earlier that morning, saying that you and Barnes could have the day off since everything was going smoothly at the Avenger's tower. You immediately bolted to Bucky's apartment down the hall and started stamping on his door. 

"Bucky Barnes! Wake up!"

When his sleepy face appeared in the crack of the door, you smiled. 

"Hey, doll." He mumbled, looking rather shaken from his evident sleep. "Whats wrong?"

"I wanna go outside. We have the day off." You showed him your phone which displayed Tony's text. Bucky rubbed his eyes and looked at your phone before looking back at you. "Baby, it's 20 degrees outside."

"So? C'mon, there's a reason you have a jacket!" You pouted, taking your phone back. "I wanna build a snowman!"

"Right now?"

"Yes, Bucky. Right now."

"Oookay. Lemme wake up first."

"Dress warm!" You called before he shut the door and bolted back to your apartment. You wolfed down a bowl of baked oatmeal before making one for Bucky when he got there. Your baked oatmeal was crunchy and creamy, not that mess of tasteless glop normal oatmeal was. Plus your threw in some brown sugar on top of it before you warmed it up. 

After eating you hurried to layer up, a next-to-skin shirt, your thermal leggings, a cotton t-shirt, a pair of jeans, your wool socks, your combat boots(compliments of Bucky) and your white jacket with black gloves. You were tugging on your hat just as Bucky knocked on the front door.

"It's open, Bucky!" You called as you started to lace up your boots. 

He walked in and leaned against the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets. "You look warm enough to snuggle with."

"Hey, patience, soldier." You stood up, smiling. "You'll get some later. I got you some oatmeal." You squeezed by him, grabbed the bowl and set it in the microwave.

"Thanks, doll." He rested his chin in his hand as he sat on the counter, watching you move through the kitchen with fluid steps. "You're cute." 

You touched your face, sure that your blush could be seen a mile away. You spun around, trying not to look flustered p, but you evidently failed when he broke into a grin.

The microwave stopped you from making a remark as you set his breakfast in front of him. "Eat before I say something silly."

"Yes, ma'am."

He finished off his oatmeal, watching the entire time. "I still think you're cute."

"James Buchanan Barnes." You couldn't hide your smile as you crossed your arms. "Flattery will gain you nothing."

He stuck his tongue out which made you hide your face again. A giggle erupting from your core.

"James!"

"What??" He slid off the bar stool and put his bowl in the dishwasher. "Now are you going to show me how to make a snowman or not?"

You straightened up, fixing your collar and before you knew it, you were both downstairs making a snowball apiece to see how far you could throw it. 

"Ready?" You raised your eyebrows, your competitive spirit rising. 

"Anytime you are," Bucky returned the glance before gazing out over the white blanket that hid the trees that peppered the courtyard. Oscar and the old man were back inside already, but there was a number of younger kids and their parents playing in the snow. Apparently they had decided to make one giant snowman, and they had made pretty good progress so far, with a massive ball on the bottom, about four feet high.

"We'd better throw over in that direction," you pointed to your right, toward a less populated area in the courtyard. 

"Good idea." Bucky nodded. "Wouldn't want to get pelted in the back of the head by the Winter Soldier."

"Noooooooo." You tried to sound serious, but you both knew you weren't fooling the other.

"And no using the metal arm either."

"You know I can't throw left-handed." 

"Just a precaution." You closed your eyes as you finished rounding off your snowball. 

Bucky said nothing but shook his head, you were glad he hadn't cut his hair before winter set in. You had to convince him to wait til spring to do so. 

"Okay, if we get it past the fountain."

"Five dollars says you don't." He grinned at you. 

"Deal." You returned the grin. "After you, good sir."

Bucky made a show of looking like a baseball pitcher, the frown, the look of concentration, everything. You snickered before he let the snowball loose. It sailed over the courtyard and burst into powder against the light post next to the brick wall.

"Impressive." You smiled as he backed up. "But I know better than to compete with that."

"There's still five bucks on the line."

"Yes, yes, yes," you stepped forward, weighing the ball in your hands. You looked outward and hurdled the ball over the fountain, but it barely made it ten feet past it before it fell into the blanket of snow.

"You owe me five dollars, you swindler." You spun around to face Bucky, his eyes rolling back into his head, and his arms crossed.

"Whatever. Okay, so I was wrong."

"C'mon." You smiled tugging his arm into the snow. You were so glad for the boots he had got you, they were definitely keeping your feet dry and warm. You let him go and flopped into the bank of snow, the top layer fluffing up and the next layer making you grunt as it was harder than you thought. But you didn't care. You giggled as you pushed yourself up, but Bucky wasn't beside you. You looked around and spotted his dark figure holding a small child up as they put the orange nose on their rather tall snowman. When they stuck it in firmly, they clapped and cheered, turning to see Bucky's reaction. He made a gasping noise and set them down, making sure they were steady on the lumpy snow.

"Thank you!" They said in an enunciated voice as they waddled away. Bucky straightened up and walked back to you. 

"Are you comfy?" He bent over you, his hands shoved into his pockets. 

"Mmm, if you were down here too, just maybe." You tried to look innocent. 

"But it's cold down there."

You muffled your laugh with your mittens, completely sure your cheeks were red. 

"C'mon," Bucky laughed and hauled you to your feet. "Build me a snowman."

"On it, sir." You began to ball together a large lump of snow, patting the looser parts into place. 

You rounded it to around two feet tall, making sure it was solid before rolling another ball from the snow. 

"Sit on that." You pointed to the second ball. 

"What?" Bucky tilted his head. 

"You heard me, soldier, sit on it, please." You repeated with a grin.

"Yes, boss." He smarted, lowering himself onto the snow, resting his chin on his hand which was propped up on his elbow. "Now what?"

"Now get off."

"Whats all this on off stuff??"

"I had to compact the snow, how would you do it?" You shrugged, finishing off the ball and picking it up to place on the bottom ball. 

"Touché." He shrugged.

"Almost done. Ah, shoot!" You slapped your hands on your sides, shaking snow off.

"Whats wrong?"

"I didn't think about the eyes and the nose..." 

"Don't move-" he tapped your arm before disappearing across the courtyard, bending over a bed of rocks that the kids had dug up from under the snow. 

"Haha!" He returned victoriously, holding up two rocks about the same size. "For you." 

"Thank you, Bucky." You reached up and pecked him on the cheek, but you could see his cheeks flush red before you turned and began to make the top ball, or the head. "How about you hang onto those? Wouldn't want them to run off."

"Noooooo," he imitated you, pocketing the rocks.

Ugh, why did he have to be so sweet? You laughed inwardly, gingerly picking up the top ball and setting it on the center of the middle ball. 

"Tada," you stood back, admiring your work. "Now, you put the eyes in."

Bucky looked at the rocks in his metal hand and held them out to you. 

"No, no, you can do it. You're helping me." You smiled, shoving your mittened hands into your pockets. 

"Okay," Bucky shrugged and popped the rocks into the snow, shoving them just far enough to secure them. 

"Now, the nose...." you muttered, looking around. "It's not a reasonable snowman without a carrot nose.."

"I can't pull a carrot out of thin air." 

"Dang it."

"Shhh, Steve can hear a flea swear."

You snickered, the image of Captain America screaming through a magnifying glass, "LANGUAGE!" appearing in your head. 

You and Bucky looked around, you knew you didn't have a carrot in your apartment, and neither were you about to walk four blocks to the grocery store just for one carrot-

You were about to give up, but the small child Bucky held earlier was tapping on his pant leg. He looked down and crouched to the child's level.

"Yes?"

"Here." They held out a tiny carrot, a small bite taken out of the end. "Snowman needs nose."

"He obviously does." Bucky nodded. "Do you want to put it up there?"

"Uh-huh." 

"Okay, here we go." He picked them up again, carrying them gingerly to the snowman and made a booking noise when they poked the carrot into the snow. 

"Tada!" He looked at the little boy.

"Ta- da!" He tried, enunciating more and looking to you for approval.

"I love it!" You smiled, clapping.

Bucky set the boy down and let him wander back to his family. 

You watched as he did, snuggling up to him. "You're too sweet."

"What?" Bucky looked down at your when you looped your arm through his. 

"I said you're too sweet."

"I think your hallucinating." He smirked.

You shook your head, looking back to the snowman. "He's a little lopsided, but he'll do."

"And I'll bet you'll watch him when the snows melts and just wave goodbye." 

"I just might do that!" You laughed. "It'll be like loosing a family member!"

Bucky just rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face indicated his amusement.

You stifled your yawn for the fifth time as you and Bucky walked through the lit street, the Christmas lights had been up for a few weeks now, but you hadn't been able to really enjoy them. Missions and SHIELD business, all that junk.

Bucky seemed to be mesmerized but the display, his eyes scanning everything he could take in. A smile grazing his lips every time he glanced at you.

"You like it, Bucky?" You held his metal hand, knowing it was probably cold from the extended time in the cold. Not that he complained. 

"It's gorgeous. But you outdo it all."

"Aww..thank you." You ducked, hiding your blush. "You just looked so far away."

"It's been a long time since I've seen Christmas." He rumbled, your boots crunching over the snow. 

"Mm, do you remember it?"

"Vaguely. Just the feeling, I guess. The smells, some of the tastes, nothing more."

"Did you guys have a tree in Brooklyn when you were growing up?"

"I..think so? I'm not sure if we did or not."

"That's okay," you assured, squeezing his hand. "I have a tree."

"I'd like that," he smiled at the ground. 

You smiled as you both paused at a window, the glass was a little foggy but inside was one of those ceramic villages decorated like an old town for Christmas. The train chugging around in a circle around the edge of the white cloth that was laid for snow on the side table. It was almost magical how nostalgic this was. 

You looked at Bucky who was utterly fascinated by the little houses and shops spread before him, the hand painted little details on the roofs, the tiny people in and out of the street. 

"I really like these little things," you commented. "They really just make Christmas the way it is."

"Look," he pointed through the glass, there was a small building with the Avenger's symbol on it, and on the outside were tiny figurines of the team, Stark, Thor, Cap, Natasha, even Banner and Clint were there. 

You and Bucky shared a glance and burst into a laugh. "We'd better not let them live this down."

"Oh, no, no." Bucky shook his head, his smile making your heart swell. To see him happy and smiling meant the world to you. "Not on your sweet life."

"At least they didn't include you, that would have been cruel and inhuman."

"What?? Hey, I have a key role in the team, young lady. What are you talking about?" He grinned, his tone playful. You snickered and bumped his shoulder as you kept walking down the street. You were glad he could take your mild banter, you used to have to walk on eggshells when it came to teasing. But it was one of your love languages, which he soon learned and even sassed back every once and a while. He had a sense of humor somewhere under that stone wall he had built around his mind. You just had to chip through with a little kindness and patience and simple human companionship.

 You felt his metal arm squeeze harder, the metal plates shifting down the forearm.

"You cold?" You slowed your pace and looked at him. 

"A little."

"You wanna go home? I'll make hot chocolate."

He seemed to turn your offer over. "Okay."

You smiled as you both turned around and began to head back to the apartment complex 

Apparently while you were both gone(and it probably happened the previous night, you just didn't notice) but your apartment building was showered in lights and a massive wreath hung where the building split into two parts.

"Oh, wow--' you breathed, awe overtaking you. You felt the chill as a warm tear traced it's way down your cheek. You hurriedly brushed it away, this was not a Hallmark movie for Pete's sake--

Bucky drew you closer to his side, his presence making it all the better. This was probably the first real Christmas he'd spent in his hometown. HYDRA wasn't on his back, Steve was here, no enemies(at the moment) and most importantly, he thought, he had you. He knew better than to ask since he probably knew the answe- 

"Can I stay over tonight?" He slowly asked.

"Of course, Bucky." You smiled. "You know I'd never turn you away."

He was silent all the way to your apartment. He was always quiet, but when he rarely spoke, he was going numb quickly. Had you dragged him outside and brought on past memories? Was he about to have a flashback...?

"James," you started as he shut the door behind you both after you walked inside the warm apartment. "I'm sorry if I made you remember things you don't want to remember, I know you don't really like the cold, and I don't blame you, but-"

"Shhh." He right hand came up and touched your chin, his finger barely coming in contact. "Baby, I'm okay. Honestly? If you hadn't been there the whole time, yeah, I might have gotten scared...and ran off. But I have you. You're my rock, you make everything better."

You could have sworn you melted right on the spot.

"I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't showed up." 

"Thank you, James." You smiled warmly, you hand coming up and grasping his. 

"Now about that hot cocoa."

"On it, Sergeant." You made a salute and strolled into the kitchen, turning the small radio you always kept on the counter to the AUX setting and plugged your phone it, starting the playlist you always had for soft moment or just background noise.

Bucky settled onto the bar stool and watched your movements as he always did, it was a habit he'd made after being 'assigned' to you. As the Soldier, he'd watch your movements carefully as you'd move around the kitchen while making your dinner and his. He inhaled the scent of cinnamon as you sprinkled a little into the mix before shaking up the bag and pouring it into the ceramic mugs that stood on the counter. You looked up and met Bucky's eyes, a smile breaking out on your face as he stuck his tongue out. 

"Would you stop, James? I look like a teenage girl when you do that."

"Do I look like I care?" He raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh, what am I going to do with you." You sighed with a smile, leaning against the island while the water warmed on the stove behind you.

He smiled at you again, his gaze turning to the radio as an older song came on.

"You listen to 40's music??"

"Etta James is not 40's, Bucky."

"The song is." He slid off the stool and came around the island to your side. 

"What?" You looked up, his frame much taller than yours seemed to demand something. "You want to dance?"

He nodded, his metal hand finding your soft flesh one. "Uh-huh."

"Okay." You gently let him lead, his hand pulling your middle close to his, your feet practically on top of his as you both glided over the wooden floor of the kitchen, the song was low enough that you could hear Bucky's heartbeat through his shirt. It was fast as you guessed, yes the super-serum made his heart-rate higher than normal, but you were not a serum. You made his chest fly away when you touched him or even whispered his name.

"Bucky, the waters ready." You mumbled into his shirt, your warmth just now taking the biting pain rom his arm.

"But you're busy."

"Bucky." You knew better than to push away, but you reached over and turned off the burner before you boiled all the water away. 

When the song ended, you felt his kiss on your forehead, his hand fingering through your hair.

"I love you." His whisper nailed you to the floor. He'd never said that, not out loud at least.

"W-what?"

"I said I love you."

"I..I love you too, Bucky." You breathed. His fingers traveled to your neck, gingerly falling behind your hair and resting on the back of your neck. 

"I really don't know what I would do without you." He admitted, his eyes soft.

"I'm here, James. I'll always be here."

You felt his weight shift as he forced himself to pull away to let you get the warm drinks made, his eyes always following your movements. 

"I should have put the blanket in the dryer..." you mumbled as you carefully pouring the still-steaming liquid into the mugs, putting a spoon in each to stir.

"But I have my personal space-heater." You smiled at Bucky while you pushed his mug across the island to him. "Would you like marshmallows?"

"Please." He said softly. 

You poured three marshmallows in your own mug before plopping three in his mug.

"More?"

"More."

You dropped in three more. 

"Thank you." He shyly smiled, taking a long slow sip of the warm drink. His features brightened as he warmed, his left shoulder became less tense and his fingers seemed to tingle.

"You want to move to the couch?" You stirred your marshmallows into the drink so they dissolved.

He nodded, his tiredness showing through. He wasn't active today, but you could tell he didn't sleep long last night. The bags under his eyes were getting smaller each week, though.

You watched him very carefully lower himself onto your couch, his hand immediately finding the large blanket you always kept there. You smiled as he silently patted the cushion next to him, inviting you over, 

"I'm coming, soldier," you smiled. He did this a lot before he went to Wakanda. You never understood why the Soldier was so...docile toward you when he was so aggressive toward others. Was it something as small as your presence, was it your similar need for healing?

"Hey," he tugged on your sleeve, pulling you from your thoughts, "you look far away."

"Sorry, thinking again," you nestled against him, your legs tucked under the blanket as his hand found your hair again. Even though he had a need for other warmth, you could immediately feel his heat through your small space. 

"I love my space heater." You giggled, bumping the side of your head on him.

"Space heater, really??"

"Don't deny it, you're like a fire."

"Love you too, I guess." He smirked as he took another drink. You knew he was playing. You looked out the window to see the lights across the city. You felt safe and secure, like there wasn't a horrid world out there that would take your mind and your very being away. Maybe it was going to be okay.

As long as you had Bucky and he had you.

It was gonna be okay.

Thank you for reading! <3 ~ Sandy

Dividers by @strangergraphics, credit to @embbarnes for inspiration.

Part of @buck-star's Fluffy Winter Event.

[mohntilyet]

i read the wigmaker job recently and there’s an idea that really stuck with me, which may well have been discussed before, but it’s really been itching at me. it came from this exchange near the end –

“i don't want to quit.” / illario sat back. the distance between them suddenly felt much wider than a table. / “even if it kills you,” illario whispered. / “death is my calling,” lucanis stated, matter-of-fact. “just as yours is to become first talon.”

(the bits before and after this give important context, too, but these specific lines are what gnaw at me)

i. really wonder if this conversation – and the long-standing beliefs held by both of them that it’s indicative of – contributed to giving lucanis to zara.

like, illario coming to terms with the fact that lucanis really just will. not. stop. for ANYTHING. his cousin WILL get himself killed doing this and lucanis won’t have any regrets. he’ll leave illario to go this alone. (no one to follow after anymore.) combined with the envy of knowing that lucanis is and always will be caterina’s favorite, and she will likely pick lucanis to be first talon even tho lucanis does not want this At All…

i wonder if he thought that, well, if lucanis is going to die anyway… maybe it’s better to have it happen sooner, rather than later. why put off the inevitable? especially if this is the one thing that could shift caterina’s gaze to illario and give him what he’s wanted – what he’s earned.

lucanis wouldn’t be happy as first talon anyway (honestly, illario seems to see that what lucanis is NOW isn’t so much ‘happy’ as it is ‘obedient and content to accept the scraps that gives him’), and he’s GOING to get himself killed doing this, anyway… and sure, they COULD wait it out. wait for lucanis to do something foolish enough that he can't just walk away from it. maybe he’ll even last long enough to be made first talon (if caterina can ever bear to loosen her grip from the title) and be miserable for a while. years even, maybe. before he, again, does something he can’t walk away from.

OR. or. or illario could cut through all the pointless waiting and get right to the point. go straight to where this was always going to end up.

(and maybe part of it is an extension of anticipated grief, too – the loss will be agony. if illario controls when and how it happens, he can control his grief. …except he hasn’t accepted the inevitability of lucanis’ death quite as well as he’d thought and when he gets sloshed at the wake, real grief seeps through the cracks)

i dunno. something about both of them viewing lucanis’ death as a foregone conclusion and how illario Might have had that shape his decisions.

YEAH . YEAHHHHH. i do also think the “to reason” exchange is what solidifies it in illario’s mind. lucanis is like 'this has been a productive if tense talk with my cousin. surely he sees sense now.' and illario is like ‘what the fuck. i think he wants to die’ <- okay im exaggerating a bit but i do absolutely see the end of wigmaker’s job as the start of lucanis-illario’s downward spiral. there’s a reason that it’s something lucanis is stuck on during inner demons, and the exchange that you have very nicely broken down is what he hears echoes of, this is where he knows it started to go wrong

probably the worst part is lucanis WOULD have worked himself to death and it takes the series of events in veilguard for lucanis to see other options for his life, and still he ends up being shoehorned into first talon by the end of the quest. i thought his quest would parallel iron bull’s, in that rook shows them that living outside and away from crow influence is possible, and that he is much more than the weapon they turned him into, but it ofc doesn’t go through like that. it’s genuinely a bit heartbreaking that lucanis finally has support and like. FRIENDS. but with the way the game ends he’s pulled back into the crows and to a life that will be about protecting a cousin that the organisation he runs hates, and for as long as caterina lives, unable to say no to her. and meanwhile after lucanis has made connections outside of the crows, illario has absolutely nothing left (prison of his own making i get it but i still want to get his ass out of there. 😭) so the codependency that they used to share is gone as well. maybe lucanis has a foot out the door but i genuinely have no idea how illario goes on after this

[raayllum]

bc i've been rewatching the back half of s4 and i have thoughts/feelings about N'than

Rayla goes to him after the dust settles.

There are more important things, maybe—Claudia and Viren have the map; the coins containing her parents' souls are burning a hole in her pocket—but she came back, and that includes... coming back to her old self, maybe. The one Callum had fallen in love with (Rayla saves people; she's selfless, strong, and caring) now that she's finally felt the warm embrace of his arms.

So while Ez gives Zubeia an update, and the Dragon Queen works through what to do next, Rayla finds N'than sitting on a rock by the two guardians of the Gate. He's jittery, knee bouncing as the flowers in his hair wilt.

"Hey." She stops, waits. He has to be even younger than Ezran—maybe even younger than the age she remembers Ez being, at ten years old, by a year or so. "Is this rock taken?"

N'than's lips twitch. "It might've been a nice one for your tombestone —so ahead."

She snorts. The dark sense of humour is refreshingly Moonshadow, and even a bit Callum-y (not that he's joked much since she's come back and upturned his life, again) in its own way. She quickly sobers though.

"Are you going to be okay," she asks as gently as possible, "going back to your village?"

I'm supposed to catch my own dragon. It's what you have to do to grow up and become a real Drakerider... But I just can't do it.

Any brightness in his eyes falter. Then he shrugs, wiping his nose on his minute shirt sleeve. "Yeah," he says, tone only a little wobbly. "Yeah, I'll be fine. They don't know I helped you guys or set their little blue zapper free." He glances over at Zym with a fond look, though that flickers too. He musters up a smile. "They probably haven't even noticed I'm gone, honestly. I disappear a lot."

Rayla goes quiet for a moment, thinking. She's never been the best at saying the right thing when she's supposed to, and she hates bringing it up at all, but...

"My village banished me," she reveals, N'than's hazel eyes widening. "For sparing—showing compassion to humans."

You lied to me! You let him go!

She sniffs. "I think you did the right thing, letting Zym go. Helping us. It was good of you."

He'd guided them through the Pit and Path of Despair. It's only fair that she helps guide him along his, if it's there. If he could use a little help.

They always told me outsiders are dangerous, but you don't seem too bad.

She speaks over the lump in her throat. "I know sometimes it feels like you have to do—to be—who your village wants you to be. That there's nowhere else to go. But there are always people out there who will accept you for exactly who you are."

I have to go after him.

I know.

Rayla nudges N'than's shoulder with hers. "You just have to find them."

N'than hums and leans into her the way Ez does sometimes. "I think I'll go home," he decides. "See if they can change, first. Second chances and all that, you know?"

Garlath, she knows. "Mmhm."

"But if they can't... maybe I'll find a dragon to befriend, rather than control. And we can find a new home."

"That sounds like a good idea—oh!" N'than's arms are thin and tightly wound around her middle.

"Thanks, Rayla," he mumbles into her shoulder. "I'm glad you're not super dead."

Rayla shifts and settles, wrapping her arms around him too. She smiles, the flowers in his hair and something like acceptance blooming in her chest. "Thanks. I'm glad too."

[divorcingjimmatthews]

[Spoilers] The Norman Masterpost

I'm collecting everything I remember surrounding the story Julie tells Ethan in the RV. Feel free to add to it if you find something I missed!

In the story, the character "Norman" dies in his friends' arms, which upsets Ethan. To fix this, Tabitha reasons that Norman can't be dead, because it was monsters that killed him, and there's no such thing as monsters. This is the scene that introduces us to the four characters in the Matthews family, but it also introduces us to some other elements that will keep coming up through the show.

THE LAKE OF TEARS

After his seizure during the night they spend in the RV in S1E2, Ethan claims to have "seen" the lake of tears as a drawing in Victor's room.

"I saw the lake of tears. It was a drawing on the wall. There were so many drawings on the wall. Like when I used to draw with crayons... and you would put it on the fridge? And we were all there in the drawings, you and me and Mom and Julie. But somebody screamed, because the spider came down from the ceiling."

I find it interesting that Ethan could see drawings of his family that Victor made, before they even met Victor. It seems that Julie can visit the past during her seizures, while Ethan can see into the future.

Many of Victor's drawings depict water droplets, large bodies of water and a large spider. We can see a few of them here.

"TELLING A DIFFERENT STORY"

The norman story is longer in an earlier version of the script. In this longer version, Ethan begs Julie to change the ending, but she tells him that she can't change the ending because the story's over. Tabitha suggest that they can tell a different story (one that brings Norman back to life), but Julie argues that it won't matter because "her story came first".

After the crash, we get this sweet scene of Julie writing a different ending for Ethan in S1E2, where Norman's friends are able to save him. However, it doesn't seem to land as Ethan's interest is grabbed by seeing the BIW outside the window.

Once Julie becomes a storywalker in season 3, she tells Ethan she might be able to save Tian-Chen, and maybe even Thomas. It's now Ethan who tells her that it doesn't work that way — she can visit chapters that have already been told, but she can't change them.

E: "You're a Storywalker." J: "So if I go back to those ruins, do you think I could do it again?" E: "Maybe, why?" J: "Well, if... if this is real, that means I can change things. I can save Tian-Chen. Maybe I could even save Thomas." (😭) E: "It doesn't work like that. You can visit the chapters, but you can't change them." J: "Why?" E: "No one can change a story once it's been told."

Still, that doesn't stop her from trying. We see future Julie trying to save her dad in the finale. It seems Ethan was right, as she's not able to make any meaningful changes to the narrative.

She does, however, throw Boyd the rope, so we will have to wait until S4 to learn more about storywalking and what Julie may or may not be able to do when she visits the past.

There is also the possibility that, just like with Norman's story, it will be Tabitha who changes the ending with a different approach of her own. When Victor recalls what the BIW told Christopher in S3E8, he mentions "someone who loved the children" telling them a story that gave them hope.

"The children were born in the dark, and they were murdered in the dark. But someone who loved them told them a story. The story gave them hope, and when the children laid on the stones, they poured their hopes into the roots to make the symbol, and those roots became the tree."

I'm guessing this "someone" is very likely to be the first incarnation of either Tabitha or Jade. The story they told created the gateway out of the town, so who knows what else is possible?

JIM AND NORMAN

In Tabitha's dream in S1E9, we get a closeup of some of Ethan's toys in the steps of the lighthouse. Moments later, we're shown Jim hanging upside down. This is the scene that popularized the theory that Jim would eventually die.

The dream is about Tabitha's memory of the RV crash, so both Jim hanging upside down and the focus on Norman make sense without implying Jim's death. However, Jim did eventually die, so the connection feels worthy of mention.

The show makes a point to remind us that Norman got buried alongside Jim when their house collapsed. It's interesting that he's present every time the possibility of Jim's death comes up.

Lastly, I find it interesting that Jim's death seems to mirror Norman's (death by monster claws, right after he cracked the code that unlocked the answers that might save them, complete with a loved one crying in despair.)

THE SECRET FAIRIES

The "secret fairies" are not brought up again to my knowledge, but I can't help but wonder if we've met them. Could they be the children that only Jade and Tabitha can see?

They are central to the story of the show, so it would make sense to me that they were introduced as early as possible alongside the rest of the elements I've mentioned.

CONCLUSION

Like Victor said, I also think "the answers to the end are at the beginning", so I think Tabitha might find a way to wish or reason the monsters away with Jade's help, and potentially save Jim.

[silentmouthpiece]

Jinmy and Curly are obsessed with each other and I... dont know why. I mean I get Jimmy, but Curly? He seems to have a healthier attachment but I'm like... if you guys made it back to Earth safe and sound, would you stick around even after the fallout? Like, if Jimmy's exposed and you stick by his side and tough it out... Would you guys still be as close as you were? Would your bond peter out with time or would you hold on to Jimmy tight as you can because you care for him?

I wish I could dig into Curly's head and run through his thoughts like a file cabinet. Idk... It seemed like Jimmy was Curly's rock. An anchor to keep him sane during the monotonous years of working a shitty ship for a shitty company.

I wonder if Curly briefly thought that crashing the Tulpar could be an escape from the unfulfilling life he was getting tired of. Did he really believe Jimmy could make it if he experienced the consequences of Anya's assault or was he desperately trying to stay hopeful so he wouldn't crumble under the weight of all that responsibility? Between caring for the crew, the ship, his friend, himself and all of what that entails he really was stretched too thin. Curly is just out here... trying his best to not end up a drone but he's not really succeeding there.

And like... most of the hallucinations were Jimmy's but we had one from Curly before the crash even happened. It's right before he talks with Jimmy in the cockpit about life. Strange things happen to people in space. Mental health and behavioral changes are affected by prolonged space travel in ways we don't fully understand and hallucinations are a documented phenomenon on space. Nothing as severe as Jimmy or Curly, but they still happen.

Self-indiced isolation, irritability, depression, disrupted sleep schedules, paranoia, claustrophobia, all that and more have been observed in those who traveled for long periods in space or in simulations. Imagine in that environment for years at a time? You are bound to be a little fucked up and you can see that Curly was suffering on a level not even I recognized until now. Swansea is tired and irritable, Daisuke got depressed, Curly is tired, isolated (emotionally at least) and an insomniac, Jimmy shows all sorts of symptoms and Anya... was trying her best but all that plus Jimmy and the baby... and no psych eval for her? It was a miracle holding on for that long.

Digressing a bit, but I got this little screenshot from a 2014 Smithsonian article about space affecting mental health and behavioral changes.

Kinda sounds familiar. Reasons are different but "the temptation to escape through suicde into oblivion" that was "maybe accompanied by an urge to destroy the space vessel and ghe rest of the crew" is exactly what happened in the game.

... Oop, found an article mentioning an astronaut who was "reportedly diagnosed with a brief psychotic disorder and major depression among other condtions" after she assaulted a guy with pepper spray. Apparently it was a love triangle situation. Damn. And this was months after returning from space travel, and that trip lasted.... 12 days. Damn. The trip was in 2006, the incident in 2007.

... Damn. Damn, I should sleep. I lost the plot and I lost time. Point is... the crew was fucked for even more reasons outside of their control and Curly needed Jimmy more than I thought. Hot damn. It is almost 6am, oh fuck

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 2nd of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: What's behind door two? Let's find out, shall we? thank you for your time and I hope you enjoy!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sebastian x Fem!Reader (ᴀ/ɴ: I CANNOT believe I have written Sebastian. I can't write this man for the LIFE of me, but I hope you enjoy what I wrote nonethless :D).

ᴡᴄ: 1095 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex, kinda public sex, pretty much getting caught, cream pie, cursing.

Sebastian loved winter, and there were so many reasons for him to do so! The sun was really weak, the air was nice and cold which meant that he wasn’t sweating his balls off the moment he set foot outside (fuck that, he didn’t sweat his balls off from just lying in bed), and best of all? Society didn’t fucking expect him to go out just because the weather was nice. Quite the opposite! It was perfectly acceptable to stay bundled up inside of your fucking house, the most he had to do was to look out a window every now and then and sigh wistfully – that was his fucking jam!

So, now riddle him this – how the hell had he ended up on Ginger fucking Island, where the sun showed no fucking mercy, making him sweat his balls off? Ginger Island, one of the most crowded places to be, given that most people used this as an escape of the winter wonderland back home? Why the hell was he allowing the sand to burn his feet, even though he could be at home, in his bed, aimlessly scrolling social media, maybe, and he would never admit that, making himself some hot cocoa and admire the Winterstar tree his mom had set up? Well, the riddle wasn’t all too hard to solve – the reason he was on this stupid island was right in front of him, looking up at him with those glazed-over eyes, bikini top messily tugged down to reveal kiss-bitten, spit-covered tits that bounced with each thrust that he oh so cruelly hammered into your messy cunt. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it, baby? Dragging me out here? Cock stuffed in your dirty little whore cunt in a fucking changing room? Chose the busiest day of the week, too, it seems…Would be a shame if anyone heard how good I am fucking you, huh? Or maybe that’s what you fucking want…Oh, fuck yeah, you are clenching around me baby- that’s exactly what you fucking want, yeah? Letting them all hear who’s fucking you dumb, who’s making you a fuckin’ whore for dick,” He whispered, voice nothing above a dangerous snarl as his hips mercilessly kept up his pace, only fucking you harder when he felt your cunt wrap tighter, sucking off his cock oh so sweetly. You see, Sebastian hadn’t even planned for this to happen. Sure, he had let you persuade him to join you, but he had fully expected to sit in the sand for an hour, maybe watch you swim or play volleyball with you, and then get the fuck out of there again, settle back in his castle of ice (his basement, but don’t blame him! It was fucking cold down there).

Plans had changed as soon as you stepped out of that changing room in that new bikini, grinning at him proudly. “I got it on sale!” You had told him, letting that waistband of the colourful bikini bottom snap against your paling hips. And well, you had told him to have fun at the beach, hadn’t you? And this was his way of having fun – you impaled on his cock, head thrown back as you tried desperately to hold back those sweet, sweet sounds that were threatening to spill, sounds that would be revealing what the two of you were up to, pressed together with one of your legs hooked around his hips, allowing him deeper access in that gorgeous cunt of yours. Sebastian didn’t have the heart to tell you that you that your pussy was already doing a good job of betraying you, squelching loudly as he forced it to take his quick, hard fucks. “That’s it, baby. That’s fucking it, look at you. You look gorgeous on my dick, you do know that, don’tcha? And your cunt is just sooo wet for me, fuuuuck… You make even summer pleasant for me, baby. That’s right, squeeze my cock- Good. Fucking. Girl,” he snapped, cock seemingly trying to pound his words into you, making sure you would forever remember who you belonged to – him, and only him. He let out a shaky breath as he bottomed out inside of you again, hand digging into your plush ass to give you fast, little fucks, making your mouth hang open, eyes rolling back in your skull. Seb felt his heart swell in his chest, his cock throbbing numbly in your wet pussy. Yoba, you had him tied down and locked up, had him ready to bow to your every little whim, and he just wanted to fuck it into you how much you meant to him.

“That’s fuckin’ it, baby. That’ssssss it, cum for me. Cum all over my cock, baby, c’mon- know you can do it for me, sweet angel,” he growled, trying to bite back and swallow his own moan as you looked at him like this, so stupid, thoughts long gone, only concerned with getting fucked and being able to gush around him. Yoba, did you know that you were his greatest gift on earth? Whatever would be under the tree on the Feast Of The Winterstar couldn’t keep up with you. Couldn’t keep up with the way you broke down on his cock, letting that high-pitched moan slip. Couldn’t keep up with the way your nails dug in his back and dragged down, down, down. Couldn’t keep up with the way you silently mouthed “I love you” as you came undone on his dick, back arched in oh so prettily. Shit, he loved you too. Way more than you would ever know. Or maybe you did? He had come here for you after all – and not even to fill you up with ropes of cum like he was doing now, accompanied by a little groan of your name, breathed against your neck where he was hiding his face away, fucking his cum inside of you to make sure you would feel it all the way home. “I love you, too, my little raindrop,” he panted, kissing the sensitive skin of your neck, making you sob out quietly.

“Come on, guys! I wanna make it fucking home before the fuckin’ Feast, idiots!” A voice suddenly called, big fist slamming against the door, an obvious grump seemingly having waited long enough. Sebastian gave you a chuckle, looking down at your fucked out form, feeling that swell in his chest again. “Come on, let’s get outta here,” he whispered, helping you adjust your bikini. Too bad you couldn’t even get to the sea.

[pinkytoothlesso11]

Reasons why Jinx is alive– A fully comprehensive evidence analysis

Right. So I've seen a lot of people with conflicting views on if Jimx survived at the end of Arcane season 2, and I have been itching to do a meta post on the subject, so here it goes!

The first piece of evidence that I found particularly noteworthy was the explosion itself. By going frame by frame it was possible to see this:

It's a blink and you miss it kind of scene, but this is right after the explosion, and you can see the clear pink line going into one of the vents. Now why is this important? Well, it's simple, it's the shimmer effect that happens when Jinx is moving very fast! I know that Warwick was holding onto Jinx, but in a explosion its perfectly plausible for her to get out of that grip using the explosion of her monkey bomb.

Then we have the scene where Caitlyn is inspecting the plans for the Hexgates.

There is literally no reason for her to look at these plans. Not unless she thought there was something she missed...

There's no dialogue here, so it's really just based on what she does and how she reacts. Most notably what she's holding.

It's the head of one of Jinx's notorious monkey bombs. What's more, it's clearly damaged and singed. So likely this is the very same monkey bomb Jinx used in the Hexgates. This also suggests that Caitlyn might have been searching for evidence of Jinx's dead body... and clearly didn't find it for her to be holding Jinx's bomb head and then searching on the plans. Which brings me to the focus changing to this:

The vents we see the streak of pink shimmer light go inside correlate to the plans as shown above. The vents connect to the air ducts which connect to the outside. After this, the camera goes back to Caitlyn and we see her look at the monkey bomb head and then smile.

Then we get to the most telling piece of evidence that Jinx survived and left Zaun and Piltover behind, which is definitely a controversial choice on the writers part and does come across that they just want the option to bring in Jinx whenever they want in later stories taking place in Noxus, Ionia and Demacia. Which is very Marvel like lol. This is namely the air blimp at the end shot of the show.

What I find interesting is the fact it mirrors exactly the very first time we see Powder in episode 1 of Arcane season 1 when we see one of these air blimps.

The difference in these shots is that the one from season one is going TOWARDS Piltover, and the one from end of season 2 is going AWAY across the sea. The only difference in the ships themselves is the streak of blue you can just about see on the side of the hull. Maybe a further hint that Jinx is indeed on board that blimp.

Obviously it is what Powder says about the air blimp in season one that truly gives some solid evidence Jinx escaped on the air blimp heading for the sea:

Well, it seems Powder was right about that... the shots being so similar is clearly not a coincidence.

This is made all the more evident with the very last seconds of screen time of the show. It ends with Jinx's signature scribbles taking over the screen for three seconds with the words 'The end' written across.

Some people I've seen commenting on the fact the letter E on 'the' is reversed, but I think that's just a style choice in line with Jinx's graffiti so far. What is significant here is the fact it's so evidently Jinx's mark straight after the air blimp that resembeled the one in the first episode of Arcane season one.

Annnnd there's just one more thing now. I promise I'm almost done lol.

The lyrics to the song Wasteland that plays during episode 8, when Jinx is about to try and end her life are as follows:

This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow

I used to have strength but I ran out of hope

I know it’s my fault that I'm here all alone

This world is a wasteland

Please let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go

But then the lyrics change in the last chorus, they go from Jinx preparing to end her life for good, to THIS:

This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow

If it weren’t for you I’d be here all alone

I know in my heart this is where we belong

This world is a wasteland

Don’t let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go

Don't let me go

I feel it's likely that the line 'if it weren't for you I'd be here all alone' is referring to Ekko. Because it's Ekko who stopped Jinx from killing herself. And then of course the biggest change, from 'please let me go' to 'don't let me go' Jinx isn't ready to say goodbye. She wants to stay living. And I think it's this that plays in her 'sacrifice' scene with Warwick. It's not her giving up on life, it's her accepting that her life has changed and she needs to break the cycle by moving on. Not for anyone else, but for herself.

Let me know in the comments or reblogs your thoughts on this! And thank you for reading if you got this far lol.