#It takes me forever to come up with names okay

[dollesung]

WASTELAND, BABY .ᐟ

PAIRING. sunghoon x fem reader. GENRE. fluff. REQUESTED? yes. WORD COUNT. 2.9k SYNOPSIS. you get cheated on by your piece-of-shit boyfriend and run to your best friend, sunghoon's rescue. after letting him pick up the pieces of your broken heart, the two of you get more than you bargained for. WARNINGS. cheating (by a third party character), use of profanities, brief mentions of sex (no actual nsfw), alcohol.

NOTE. got carried away a lil bit and ended up liking this more than i expected to, im a sucker for domestic shit. hope u like it!

Love was a fucking bitch.

You once thought love was a beautiful thing, all sunshines and rainbows with clear skies and no end in sight. A forever sort of thing, that nothing could take away or destroy for you.

But all good things come to an end.

If you could even call your relationship with your (now ex) boyfriend good, anyway.

But even if it wasn’t perfect, you still mourned the end of it. You’d been together long, almost three years, but what made the entire ordeal much more painful, was that you caught the fucker cheating on you in your very own apartment.

So much for love, right?

And now, here you were, stood in front of your best friend, Sunghoon’s apartment door, with nothing but your phone and wallet in hand.

You knock at the door, trying to contain your emotions as you wait for a response. You stormed out of your apartment so fast, you didn’t even bother to wait and listen to whatever explanation your ex, or the woman in his bed had to offer.

Everything was starting to get overwhelming, thankfully, the door finally swung open, revealing your best friend, clad in his pajamas, hair messy and eyes squinting against the light in the hallway.

“[name]?” He called out. “What are you doing here?”

MORE UNDER THE CUT.

Sunghoon hadn’t even done or said anything else, but it’s like a dam just burst inside you. You felt your emotions explode, and you started sobbing, running into Sunghoon’s arms as the boy confusingly, but without hesitation, took you in his embrace.

“What happened?” He asked, pulling you inside and closing the door, locking it shut.

“It’s Drew,” you muttered between sobs. “He cheated on me!”

Sunghoon frowned, tightening his embrace. “Oh, I’m so sorry, [name].”

“He was fucking another woman in our bed!” You exclaimed, hiding your face into your hands. “What kind of bullshit is that?!”

Sunghoon sighed, but said nothing else, and only led you to the couch. The two of you sat in silence, with nothing but your sobs echoing throughout the room.

Sunghoon had leant against the arm of the couch, allowing you to lay against his chest, still crying your eyes out as your best friend rubbed your arm in comfort.

Minutes pass, and your cries begin to die down. You still felt miserable, but the exhaustion was taking a toll on you. Sunghoon must’ve noticed.

“You need anything?” Sunghoon asked as you sat up to catch your breath. “Water? Food? Need me to come over there and beat the hell out of him?”

You chuckled at his joke, knowing Sunghoon, he could never hurt a fly, even if he tried. “He’ll kill you.”

“Not if I get to him first,” he jokes, and you smile a little.

“Sorry I barged in like this,” you apologized. “Just didn’t know where else to go.”

“Hey,” he called out, and you look at the genuine expression on his face. “You can always barge in here. Especially if something like this happens.”

You sighed. “I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t,” Sunghoon warns. “Don’t say that. You have nothing to feel stupid about. He should be the one feeling stupid.”

“Still, I should’ve known better, y’know? You guys have always told me how bad Drew was. Should’ve listened a long time ago.” You berated yourself.

“Beating yourself up about it won’t help,” Sunghoon says, crossing his arms.

“I know,” you replied. “Don’t know where to go from here.”

“Only way to go is up,” your best friend says.

In the end, you nod. “Can I stay here for a bit? If it’s okay with you?”

Sunghoon offers a reassuring smile. “Stay as long as you like.”

You end up taking Sunghoon on that offer, as you spend a few weeks living under the same roof. You had nowhere else to go, anyway, as you used to live with your ex, and your parents live states away, and you couldn’t move back in since your job required you to live nearby.

Thankfully, Sunghoon was more than happy to keep you around. Of course, you felt guilty about staying and wanted to pay him back in a way, so you ended up taking care of most of the housework.

When you weren’t preoccupied with work or stuck in the office, you busied yourself with chores. You knew Sunghoon was a neat freak, but since the boy worked a 9 to 5 job, you took it upon yourself to ensure that the house was in tip top shape whenever he got home.

You also tackled grocery-shopping, laundry, and even utilized your basic knowledge in plumbing by fixing the leaky pipe in his sink.

But the number one thing you always made sure, was that Sunghoon would never come home to a house with no dinner.

It was a trait you picked up from your mother, where she always made sure food was on the table whenever your father came home from work. You would’ve done this with your ex-boyfriend, too. If only he wasn’t freeloader.

It was already 5 minutes past 6 PM when you finished cooking dinner. The table was already set, and in a few minutes, Sunghoon would arrive. You already memorized his schedule; 5 PM he’d clock out of work, by 5:15, he’d be at the subway, and 45 minutes later, he’ll make it home.

Right on time, you hear the lock by the front door and in comes Sunghoon, carrying his book bag. He immediately notices the scent of dinner wafting through the entire apartment.

“[name], I’m home!” He calls out, shrugging his coat off and leaving his shoes by the door.

“Dinner’s ready!” You announced.

He walks in the dining room, pleased to see you setting tonight’s dinner on the table. “Another delicious meal, I see.”

You beam at the praise, glad that Sunghoon appreciated your efforts. Sunghoon excuses himself to go wash his hands first, and you sit in the chair and wait for him to come back.

The two of you eat dinner in remote silence. Words are shared here and there, but you let Sunghoon enjoy a little peace as you know he’s had a long day. He doesn’t let up on praising your work, however.

“This is delicious,” he says. “Is this beef?”

“Mhm,” you nod, swallowing a mouthful of food. “I swung by the farmer’s market yesterday and got a good price for it. Just thought you’d enjoy a good roast beef.”

“I do,” he hums. Then, he lets out a short chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” You ask.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon shakes his head first. “We just kinda.. sound like a married couple.”

The fork makes a loud clang! as you accidentally drop it against your ceramic plate. You nearly choke on a piece of beef as you try to cough it out. Sunghoon’s statement rendered you a little shocked, but you try to pass it as nothing.

“S-Sorry,” you apologize, composing yourself.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Sunghoon utters. “I made you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you defended. “Just.. shocked at what you said.”

Sunghoon clears his throat, and you swear you can make out just the tiniest hint of rosiness in his cheeks. “Well, I didn’t mean it in a negative way.”

“I know, I know,” you say. “It’s fine, just forget about it.”

A little disheartened, Sunghoon drops the subject and returns to his meal. The two of you go back to eating in silence, except this time, there’s a slight tension in the room.

A few minutes pass and you pick up conversation, “By the way, I’m going back to my apartment tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Sunghoon vocalizes. “Why?”

“Just gonna pick up the rest of my stuff,” you inform him.

“Will Drew be there?” He asks, worriedly.

“He might be,” you say. “But I’ll be fine. I won’t stay there long.”

“Maybe I should go with you,” Sunghoon states.

You shake your head. “You’ve got work, I’ll be fine.”

Perturbed by your icy tone, Sunghoon once again drops the subject. He’s worried about your safety, but more importantly, he’s worried about you not coming back, that you might end up with Drew again and leave him here.

Sunghoon finished his food, and prays a silent prayer that that won’t happen.

Sunghoon is in the middle of work when he receives your text.

[name] <3 omw to the apt. might be home late, get urself some dinner and don’t wait up!

If he’s being honest, he’s worried about what will happen when you come home. He overthinks if you might end up getting back together with Drew, which is his current biggest fear, not only because he knows how bad that man is for you, but because…

Well, Sunghoon has liked you for a while now.

Like a long, long while.

A good nine years, maybe? Since the two of you met in high school. But he could never act upon it or confess because he has been, and always was a shy man.

So, he settled for being your best friend, even if he had to watch as countless men continued to treat you wrong, and even if he was always the one wiping your tears at the end of every failed relationship.

It was better than not having you, anyway.

He goes home after his shift, and ends up forgetting about dinner. Before you started staying with him, Sunghoon always ate either cheap convenience store ramen or street food for dinner, as those were the easiest food to come by on his way home.

But ever since you started preparing dinners, he found himself looking forward to going home every night, wondering what food you had prepared.

More importantly, knowing you were home, waiting for him, made his heart so, so happy.

He knew it probably meant nothing to you, but to him, it meant everything. That’s why he had that slip up last night, because he genuinely felt like you two were a married couple.

But then again, good things come to an end, don’t they?

Sunghoon ends up waiting for you. It’s past midnight, he’s sat in his couch watching some late night show he doesn’t care about. He periodically takes a look at his phone to check if you’ve messaged or called. By 1:21 AM, he’s starting to think if you spent the nigh in your apartment. His heart sinks at the thought.

Thankfully, he hears the lock click and the front door swing open. You enter, with a bag on your shoulder and a cardboard box in your hands. Immediately, you spot him by the couch.

“I told you not to wait up,” you scold. “You have work in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, which was true. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing you weren’t home. “What happened? Did you talk to Drew?”

“Kind of,” you utter, placing the box on the floor by the couch, while taking off your shoes. You plop next to Sunghoon just as he shuts the TV off. “We fought.”

“About?” Part of him feels guilty that he’s relieved you guys fought and didn’t make up, but he pushes that feeling down.

“‘Bout us,” Sunghoon notices your speech is a little slurred, and there’s a slight stench of alcohol from your breath. “He complained about me leaving, ‘bout how I haven’t been responding to any of his messages.”

“And?” He pries. “What’d you say?”

“Told him to fuck off,” you laughed. “Then I went to a bar and drank my ass off.”

“You should’ve called me,” Sunghoon scolded. “I could’ve picked you up or booked you an uber.”

“It’s fine,” you say, leaning your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna bother you more, anyway.”

“You’re not a bother,” Sunghoon says. “Never.”

Then, filled with alcohol-induced bravery, you look up at Sunghoon and asked him a question. “Why’re you doin’ all this, anyway?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “‘Cause you’re my best friend and you need a place to live?”

“No, no, not that,” it was more than evident that you were drunk now. “I mean, you keeping up with my shit. I always end up pickin’ the wrong guys but you never blamed me! You never leave. Whyyyy?”

Unsure of what to say, Sunghoon gives himself a minute to respond. Then, he shrugs again. “I-I don’t know. I just do.”

You laugh due to drunken stupor, then, the liquid courage urges you to say something you’d have never said to Sunghoon sober:

“You like me, don’t ‘ya?”

Sunghoon freezes, eyes widening at your statement. “What?”

“I knew it!” You exclaim, smiling. “I always knew ‘ya liked me but I didn’t wan’ assume—!”

“[name], you’re drunk—“

You cut him off. “I may be drunk buuut I know what ‘m sayin’!”

Trying to prove a point, you stood up, but the sudden movement caused you to be dizzy, and you nearly fall over, if it weren’t for Sunghoon who caught you.

“Let’s just go to bed and talk tomorrow, hm?” He suggests, and you find yourself agreeing.

He leads you towards his bedroom, where you usually sleep. He tries his best to rid you of your extra layers, leather jacket, accessories, socks.

He’s halfway through sliding off your other sock when you speak up, still in a drunken haze.

“I like ‘ya too, y’know?” You say, and Sunghoon swears his heart just started beating a thousand times per minute.

“You do?” He implores himself to ask.

You nod. “Mhm. I-I never thought you’d like me back, soooo, I dated other guys buuuut they weren’t you.”

Sunghoon flushes at your statement. Perhaps some of what you were saying were true, considering that alcohol always made you honest.

“Let’s talk tomorrow, m’kay?” You nod at Sunghoon, and in a second you were already half asleep. Sunghoon grabs the blanket and tucks you in, leaving the room to crash in the couch.

If you remember any of this in the morning, he’ll worry about it then.

Your head was pounding.

You definitely regretted drinking all those shots at the bar last night, but they seemed like a good idea at the time.

Glancing at your clothes, you were still dressed in what you went out with yesterday. Fortunately you didn’t wake up in some stranger’s apartment, and found yourself in Sunghoon’s be—

Sunghoon.

Memories of last night came back flooding your head, and you cringe at them all. You never meant to interrogate Sunghoon, let alone confess to him, but alcohol came with poor judgement.

After a few minutes of hitting yourself in the head, you managed to get out of bed and into the living room. A quick look at the clock states that it was already 2:41 in the afternoon, and that you should probably make yourself a late lunch.

“You hungry?” The voice makes you jump, and you turn around to see Sunghoon sat on the couch.

“You scared me,” you said. “Don’t you have work?”

“Took a day off,” he informs you. “Needed to make sure you’ll be okay.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you frowned.

“Can we talk? Before you eat?” Sunghoon says, and even though you dreaded it, you nodded anyway.

You sat beside your best friend as you thought of every possible scenario that could play out next. You had half the mind to think if he was gonna kick you out, but you knew Sunghoon was better than that.

Thankfully, he saved you from your own paranoia.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you responded, looking apologetic. “Look, I’m sor—“

“You’re right,” Sunghoon cut you off before you could finish.

“Huh?” You ask. “About what?”

“About me, liking you,” he responded. “I do, like you, that is.”

“Oh,” you felt a wave of emotions crash over you at once. Relief, joy, contentment, you’re not sure which ones.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asked you this time, and it took you a moment to respond.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I-I mean it. I liked you for a while but I didn’t wanna say anything ‘cause I thought you didn’t like me. But then we started living together and I started to notice things.”

Sunghoon hummed. “Okay.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “‘Okay’?”

Sunghoon shrugged. “What did you want me to say?”

“I dunno,” you admitted. Granted you had no idea what to do next, but this whole thing was just so odd. “What happens next? I mean what are we now? Are we still best friends?”

Sunghoon merely offered a reassuring smile. “[name], you just got out of a relationship, a bad one, yes, but you still need to heal from that. I like you, but I don’t want you to just end up settling with me because I’m all you have.”

“I woul never just ‘settle’ for you,” you replied, feeling a little flustered. “I just feel.. confused, I guess?”

“Yes, I do like you, yes, you’re the one I want to be in a relationship with, and yes— we are still best friends.” Sunghoon reassures.

You smiled, feeling relief take over your entire body. “Good.”

“And when you are ready, I’ll be here, I can wait a bit more,” he states. “As long as you keep making dinner.”

You rolled your eyes, and playfully hit the boy in his chest.

Love might be a fucking bitch at times.

But occasionally, it gets some things right.

NOTE. i like and hate this one at the same time, RAAAAH. i finished this at 5 in the morning and i have a 10 am class later. fuck it, worth it.

© dollesung 2025

[herbertten]

Juno

summary: Y/N asks her boyfriend to be apart of her Coachella performance.

word count: 1.2k

song: juno by sabrina carpenter

Coachella had always been the event Y/N dreamed of playing since she could remember. Thousands of people packed in, whether they were there for her or not—she was just beyond excited to have the chance to perform. She’d had this idea for a while: she wanted to arrest someone from the crowd for being “too hot.” But the more she thought about it, the more she realized it wouldn't feel right if it wasn't her boyfriend, Justin. He was known for staying out of the spotlight, and getting him involved in any kind of media attention was a long shot. But, she knew if she asked, he'd do anything to make her happy—she just had to hope he'd say yes.

“Okay, I have a favor to ask of you,” Y/N said, jumping onto the couch and draping her legs over Justin’s lap as he sat watching TV.

“What's up?” Justin asked, pausing his movie and absentmindedly starting to trace his fingers up and down her leg.

“Coachella is coming up, and I need you to do something for me... I need you to let me arrest you.”

Justin raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “What?”

“Remember that idea Sarah had? The one where I arrest someone in the crowd with fuzzy handcuffs before Juno?”

“Yeah... I remember.”

“Well, I want that to happen, and I want you to be the one I arrest,” she said, leaning in for a quick kiss, her lips brushing against his.

Justin blinked a few times, still processing the request. “Wait, you want me to just stand there... and get arrested?”

“Yep. All you have to do is stand there, look pretty, and let me give you handcuffs. It'll be fun, I promise.”

Justin chuckled, shaking his head. “And this will make you happy?”

“More than you know,” she grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Y/N glanced at herself in the small mirror held by one of the backstage crew members. Her performance was just moments away, and nerves were taking over. What if she tripped and fell onstage? Forgot the lyrics? Messed up the choreography? What if she made a fool of herself?

“You’re going to do great, baby,” Justin said, coming up behind her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. Y/N melted into his touch, lifting herself onto her toes to kiss him back.

“Thanks, sweets. I’m actually about to shit myself,” she said, giggling. Justin chuckled in response. They were soon separated by the backstage crew, preparing Y/N for her cue to hit the stage. She waved and blew him a kiss as the countdown began, the roar of the crowd deafening. She could barely hear her in-ear monitor as she ran onstage, ready to start her set.

“Okay, Coachella, you’ve been insane today! I’m so honored to perform for you all!” Y/N shouted, the energy of the crowd fueling her excitement. “This next song is going to be my last one,” she announced, and the crowd groaned in disappointment. “I know, I don’t want to leave either, but this song started off as a joke between my friends and me.” She paused and looked out at the crowd. “We had just watched this movie, Juno—has anyone seen it?” The crowd erupted in cheers. “We used to joke, saying ‘he or she could make me Juno’ anytime we found someone attractive, and—”

Right on cue, Justin appeared at the front of the barricade, surrounded by a few of their mutual friends. Y/N’s eyes locked onto him as she continued, “…I’d love to finish this story, but my attention is definitely on this very tall, possibly six foot six man right here.” Justin blushed as the camera focused on him, and the crowd went wild. Their cheers lasted for what seemed like forever—probably would’ve gone on longer if Y/N hadn’t spoken again.

“You’re a 10/10, Mr. What’s your name?” she teased.

His friends yelled “Justin!” from the crowd.

“Well, Mr. Justin,” she said, still smiling. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to arrest you… for being far too hot.” One of Y/N’s backup dancers handed her a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs, and with the help of a security guard, Y/N jumped off the stage. She handed Justin the handcuffs. His face turned beet red, and she couldn’t help but laugh at him. She leaned in to kiss his cheek as the intro to Juno played.

To her surprise, Justin turned his face toward hers and kissed her instead. The crowd went wild, and the energy was electric. Y/N had always known he wasn’t into PDA, but tonight, he was making an exception.

Once she regained her composure, she jumped back onstage, laughing. “Woah, slow down, Mr we just met” she teased, as the music swelled, and she began singing her song.

After her song ended, Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. The crowd went absolutely wild for her, and as she thanked her band, backup vocalists, and dancers, her voice was nearly drowned out by their cheers. When she took her final bow and dashed offstage, she went straight to Justin, who had made his way backstage as soon as her song started.

“You fucking killed it, babe! I’m so proud of you!” he exclaimed, lifting her up and showering her with kisses on the top of her head. He gently set her down, letting her soak in the congratulations from friends and family. After a round of goodbyes and plans for dinner later, Y/N and Justin walked hand-in-hand to her trailer.

Once inside, Y/N plopped down on the couch, stretching out, and Justin joined her.

“You were literally a goddess out there, babe,” Justin said, his voice full of admiration. Y/N giggled in response.

“Well, thank you for being a part of it. I know it was outside your comfort zone, but I’m so grateful you said yes. Honestly, I would’ve scrapped the whole idea if it weren’t for you.”

“Yeah, well, how could I say no to you?” Justin smiled, his eyes softening.

“You can’t.” She leaned in for a kiss, but Justin pulled away just as their lips met.

“You know, I’m really glad you gave me these,” he said, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, his grin mischievous. “I think they’ll come in handy.”

Y/N pulled back, laughing uncontrollably.

“Justin!” she scolded, playfully smacking him.

“What?” he laughed, genuinely innocent.

Y/N rolled her eyes, still laughing. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Only when I’m with you,” he winked, his voice low and teasing.

She grinned, then settled back into the couch, her head resting on his shoulder. The adrenaline of the performance was wearing off, leaving a warm sense of contentment. As the noise of the crowd buzzed in the distance, Y/N realized how lucky she was—both in her career and in her relationship.

“Tonight was perfect,” she murmured, tracing shapes on his arm.

“It really was,” Justin agreed, gently running his fingers through her hair. “You were perfect.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but comfortable—like they had their own little world in the midst of the chaos.

“Let’s skip dinner tonight,” Y/N said after a beat, her eyes playful. “Just us, here. No one else.”

Justin smiled down at her, pulling her closer. “I’m all for that.”

[farfromstrange]

Can I get a bouquet of peonies and roses with college! Matt discovering a love for silk?

Matt and silk in the same sentence were bound to have me get carried away. Thank you so much for your request, Shiori, and I hope it's close to what you were imagining!

Procrastination and Silk

Event Masterlist | Matt Murdock Masterlist

Pairing: College!Matt Murdock x Reader

Request: A bouquet of... peonies and roses.

Warnings: Smut (18+), clothed oral (afab!receiving), silk kink (?), coming untouched, underwear ripping, matt is a horny college boy what can i say

WC: 759

The late afternoon sun streams through his dorm window, shining over your discarded criminal law textbook on the hardwood floor. You should be studying right now.

Emphasis on should.

His lips move against yours, a delicate dance he has expertly mastered. His hand, although not yet entirely confident, runs over from your waist to your thigh, caressing the soft skin under the hem of your dress. A sigh slips past your lips into his open mouth, and he swallows the sound greedily. 

Every time you find yourself in this position—and you’ve been in it many, many times before—it’s like he’s touching you again for the first time, like he hasn’t memorized every inch of your beautiful body by now. 

“Can I…?” Matt nudges the fabric. He always acts so stoic, but without those black-rimmed glasses covering his eyes, you can see every twinge of uncertainty reflected in his hazel eyes. 

You cut him off, “Yes.”

He pulls the dress over your head swiftly, and then his lips are on yours again. His hand returns to its earlier journey, though when he brushes against the fabric of your panties, he stops. It feels different, a gentle caress of an angel’s hand, or water running through his fingers. And as it slides against your skin, slotting so perfectly against your curves, it speaks to him like a siren’s song. 

His heart starts racing. Sweat starts to build in his pores, and he suddenly pulls away.

You frown. “Matty, what’s wrong?” 

“It’s– What’re you wearing?” he asks, breathlessly so.

“Underwear,” you say.

He tilts his head, fingers brushing against your underwear again—from your panties to your bra. “Feels different.”

“It’s silk. Why?” You find his hazel eyes. “Do you not like it?”

Matt shakes his head. “No, I–” God, his brain is refusing to catch up. 

“It’s okay, I can take it off.”

He grabs a hold of your wrist. “No,” he says, “don’t!”

“What?”

Matt growls in the back of his throat. “It’s so soft. Don’t…” 

You try to voice your confusion, but he buries his face against the silk covering your breasts, and the only sound that comes out of you is a strangled moan. He rubs his cheek, his nose, his fucking lips against the tender flesh. 

His tongue darts out to circle your nipple. He wants to get closer. He wants to drown in you; he wants that silk to open up and swallow him so he can feel like this forever. Your heart races under his touch. He can taste your arousal in the air, how your wet pussy clenches around nothing, wishing you were wrapped around his cock, and it takes everything in him not to come in his jeans.

Matt trails kisses down your stomach—wet, needy kisses—until he reaches your panties. Silk, silk all over. A million volts of electricity shoot through his veins, bringing his blood to a boil. He wants you to never take it off. 

You throw your head back with an obscene cry of his name when he buries his head between your legs, spreading them open like he never does anything else and licking the expanse of the fabric covering your cunt. No amount of fabric could ever stop his mouth from working the filthiest magic on you. He is a devoted Catholic, after all; the act of worshipping what he deems most holy runs in his blood. 

He sucks and licks at your pussy, fingers splaying over your breasts. So soft, he thinks. So wet and soft, and all-consuming. 

“Don’t stop,” you pant. “Oh God, don’t stop!”

He doesn’t. Matt grabs a hold of the waistband and pulls, hard. The silk slides through your folds, his tongue finally colliding with your aching clit. His bare face is slick with the essence of you, but he only dives deeper. He devours you. The wave keeps building and building and building, and—

Your new underwear tears clean through just as your orgasm crashes in. It hits you with the force of a meteoroid, forcing you to trap his head between your quivering thighs. He loses control of everything that was keeping him from falling apart, and he, too, comes with a moan against your pussy. For a moment, the world seems to disappear. There’s just you and him and that godforsaken underwear you are so glad you decided to wear today. 

And the next time you come to visit him, Matt’s bed is covered in a set of silk sheets and on top of them, a new pair of underwear—silk underwear. 

[dont-look-its-embarrassing]

Inner Ace

This summary is a bit long winded, so I apologize for the pre-read to the actual story, it just gives a lot of contexts to where I am going to start the story off.

Summary: When the Archerons where all but banished to the forests, struck with bad luck and poverty from their once luxurious lifestyle, there was one person who cared how the family survived. Y/n. Having always lived on the edge of society and just above starving from her forever grieving mother and recently vacated father, she learned to keep her life afloat. Running into a young Feyre in the woods, almost mistaking her for the wind, elder (although only by a couple years) Y/n took her under her wing and became the mentor and sister that she never knew despite the two of them that shared her name. When Feyre was taken by the Fae, Y/n was distraught, waiting and searching the border every day during her hunts. That is, until one day there is a knock on her door, behind it stood the very woman she ever considered family, but she isn't alone, and why are her ears pointy? Who are these men with wings? Why can she not look away from one of them?

Warnings: slight swearing, Nesta AND Elaine SLANDER (sorry you cannot have one without the other), slight anxiety, alcohol mention, family reuniting fluffy feelings, (almost) instant attraction (Idk if this is a warning but some people don't like it moving quick), slow burn (to an actual established romance)

I do want to make this a series, as I adore the thought of Feyre having a best friend before the IC who taught her the ropes. Plus, there could be a fun little spin and some angst with a potential mate that is SO low hanging fruit to me.

Enjoy!!

The wind howled outside the thin walls of Y/n's home. The slight chill in the air despite being housed within them made her shiver and shift herself towards the kindling fire in the quaint fireplace in her living room.

It was bitter out when Y/n heard a knock come from her front door. Not expecting company, she had figured it was Elaine with some other excuse to get her to sway Nesta into doing some task. Responding with a small “Coming” she hustled to the door. 

Who she opened it to was not who was expected, but only someone she had prayed every day to see again.

“Feyre?” Her voice shook and she swore she saw a small shadow dart out of the corner of her eye. Blaming it on the still boiling water for the food she had yet to make in the kitchen, she dismissed it.

“Hey Y/n.” The smile that overtook Y/n's face as with a motion of open arms, her best friend all but launched herself into her embrace. The strength in which Feyre landed made Y/n take a step to steady themselves, but she didn't think twice to return the embrace.

“Oh thank the gods." her voice was a whisper as Y/n's habit of stroking the younger girls' hair picked up. Although, it seemed to have missed a couple inches as instead of meeting the crown of her head, her hand landed at the back of her skull. "I thought I would never see you again.” The last breath of air in her lungs followed this exclamation, followed by inhaling as much of the girl as she could. 

“Didn’t have faith I would make it back huh?” Feyre raised a brow before hearing a small chuckle. When that corrupt Fae had taken Feyre, he had allowed her a simple visit once (to y/n's knowledge, she never trusted Feyre's sisters to tell her the truth about her visits). Through this, Y/n was unable to see her best friend even the off chance she would come back over the border. From the mouth of the middle sister, Elaine, Feyre had asked them to send message that she was okay and not to worry as she would see Y/n soon. This was before the Archerons gained the financial backing of the very Fae that stole Feyre. It was a jarring image of a once fragile Elaine (although still beautiful) now adorned in clean and well sewn dress. The whole situation was still sour in Y/n's mouth.

“Not even. I knew you would get out, don’t discredit my teaching skills like that.” Pulling back from Y/n, Feyre couldn’t help the smile that took over her features, as if analyzing the girl's condition, before embracing the Y/n once again.

When returning to the oddly taller Feyre's embrace, a slight brush of skin coming from the girl upon Y/n's cheek startled her slightly. Only then did Y/n take note of the small physical change her friend had adorned. 

“Woah there," She pulled away turning Feyre's head to the side while scaling her appendage with confusion, " you are going to poke my eye out with this.”

Lightly flicking the now sharpened ear Feyre took in a breath, turning her head back and taking her wrist, gently pulling it down to rest still intertwined by her side. Sensing the slight nervousness from Feyre, Y/n pulled her inside fully positioning herself to begin closing the door, scanning the area to make sure nobody had seen her best friend enter.

“They kind of suit you Fey, but I do expect a full explanation." The breath Feyre held released and an easy smile lifted her face once again. She knew Y/n would still be on her side. The countless days they spent together, the things they learned together, the secrets they share. Feyre's body visibly relaxed realizing that despite all that her best friend had heard and experienced with Fae, she truly just cared that Feyre was okay. "Although, if you plan on going outside, I demand you take the hood I made for our hunts. The bigger one. I don't need any nosey neighbor seeing you and coming for your head with a spike.

“Of course.”  The door shut behind them before the Feyre realized as she lost her train of thought and why she was truly here. Quickly, as if the little lock clicking switched her brain back to focus, she rushed out a quick, “I have a favor to ask.” 

“Anything, you know that.” Y/n slightly scorned as she turned away to go heat up some drinks for the two of them in the kitchen. Seriously, she didn’t care about the trouble; she was just happy her friend was back and healthy (although the new appendages did have her at a bit of a loss). Feyre smiled before making way over to the small living room, sitting down on one of the now plush seats that sat around the fire. It was updated from when she last remembered this room. Back then it was colder, less like home, but the little decorative flares of Y/n brought the small and impoverished place to life.

“Me and some friends have to try and talk to my sisters into helping us win a war,” She stated. Rip the band aid off and all.

“Don’t see how they are going to be much help.” Y/n couldn’t help but mutter but given the slightly scorning glare from Feyre she raised her hands in submission. “Just saying’.” 

“As I was saying, a few of my friends need to rest for the night before going over there. Is it okay if we take a couple days and stay here whilst we try and figure out how this is all going to work?” Y/n smiled before setting a cup of warmed tea beside her friend.

"Are they..." Y/n didn't know how to go about asking without making it sound like her best friend was a monster now, but Feyre understood once she trailed off.

"Yes." Looking off to the side Y/n watched as her best friend's face bloomed into a smile she thought only reserved for when they were together. As if Y/n's heart couldn't get any warmer. "I do have to add though, they have some extra... Attributes."

Y/n quirked her brow in question, but if their heritage was any louder than Feyre's in front of her, if word got out that she willingly let them in, it wouldn't end well.

To put it bluntly, Fey was asking something of her that could get her maimed, tortured and killed.

“Of course.” She replied without much else behind her reasoning aside from the love she had for who asked her. Feyre’s friends were hers (despite the rather ominous implication of attributes) and she lived with loyalty for the girl. Plus, she had an inkling one of the reasons Feyre looked so happy and healthy was from these ‘friends’ so she didn’t mind as much.

Without missing a beat, the fae girl looked to Y/n with warmth and took a drink of her warmed beverage.

“I missed you.” Feyre spoke as another knock sounded at the door. 

“Have they been outside this whole time?!" The possibility of the 'friends' being seen while waiting outside the house sent Y/n into a flurry of motion to open the door again. With her Feyre chuckling behind her. Without so much a glance to who she was inviting in, Y/n had ushered them in quickly. “In, in! It’s cold and I don't need the town coming for my head sooner rather than later.” 

The girl didn’t even give herself time to process that two of them had wings and the third no doubted was simply hiding them as his stature imitated the other two.

Shutting the door, a beat of silence passed over the house as she truly looked at each man.

There where Fae in her house... Three rather large male Fae.

The attributes comment made sense now.

Y/n took a shaky breath with a wavering 'okay~' to follow before darting off to the small kitchen to prep herself and provide some hospitality to the newfound friends of Feyre.

Only for a second however, for she returned with three more mugs of the warm drink that Feyre was already halfway done with. 

“These are for you.” Y/n emphasized keeping her voice steady as she handed them the steaming beverage. One of them had glanced at Feyre in a slight question as she raised her mug towards him.

"It's better than I remembered actually." Feyre's statement had Y/n glancing over to her but assumed that the conversation between them had taken place a time ago. He had taken a sip with the assurance and nodded in appreciation at the beverage.

"Thank you." His voice was smooth, that with his partnered purple eyes, Y/n had shrunk slightly under his gaze. Although it was nice of him to show an appreciation. The other two next had also nodded along, Y/n didn't see them take a swig but assumed they had tried it as well.

“Please, sit and make yourself comfortable.” The human girl mentioned to the couches and took the opportunity to analyze more closely the people in her house. The one who talked was the shortest, but not by much. His stature was also the leanest, but she doubted it meant any lack of strength with the way his posture stood. Following him was one of the winged ones. Taller, in fact looking over him again Y/n believed him to be the tallest of the bunch. He was the strongest looking out of the three, with longer hair and red stones adorning his attire. The final man to take a seat seemed to be the most reluctant to do so. Adorned with blue stones that seemed to pulse with his slight nerves that Y/n spotted above his brow bone, she imagined he was just as hesitant as she was. His gaze was unwavering as he briefly met Y/n's, the color hazel had her lost in them. However, that wasn't the only thing that caught her attention, but the silk tendrils of what looked like smoke that wove through the air around him. Even in the sheer moments it took for them to situate themselves, Y/n found herself engrossed in watching the way they danced through the air.

It was then she realized she wasn't scared of them, at least not that one

As they placed themselves, Y/n met eyes with her best friend once more, catching the furrowed expression on Feyre's face as she attempted to read her. Upon catching Y/n's eyes trailing the last male, that notorious shit eating grin spread over her face but hid it with the ceramic mug still in her hands.

Y/n narrowed her eyes at the girl.

As they sat, purple eyes were next to Feyre, red stone guy in the middle and blue man closest to her on the homemade seating. Luckily, she had made another seat not too long ago when she was sick and couldn't hunt for the week, this was where she situated herself. Although, it didn't help that the most distracting man was sat not a couple feet away from her. Not that she minded, just the slight breeze of the darkness countered the heat of the being which already had her attention drawn over to him in curiosity. As the men with wings shifted the tug of nerves in her chest seemed to relax when he specifically folded his wings slightly behind himself to make room on the couch. If he caught her staring at him, he didn't make any motion in showing her.

“Normally we wouldn’t just crash into a place like this unexpectedly, but we thought the best idea was to configure what was going to happen these next few days.” The wingless one started, breaking the ice quickly and efficiently. Y/n nodded along and offered a small smile but glad that she didn't have to start the conversation with such strong presences in the room.

“That's understandable.” Y/n offered a small nod as she caught Feyre's gaze. One thing the Archeron girl knew for sure was that Y/n didn't want to step on any toes or speak out of turn. This was a new area for her despite how these males where family now to Feyre. So, as Feyre watched Y/n look towards her with a slight ask for an introduction all she could do was nod and allow her to initiate it herself.

Trial by fire and all that. Feyre knew she would be fine but a part of her couldn't help but glean with amusement as she had never seen her best friend so hesitant. Just as she knew she would, the human girl spoke up.

"I'm sorry, but what are your names?" Y/n had tried with all her being to keep her head about her and steady her vocal cords. For this however she suffered the price of being quiet. "I don't want to be rude and refer to you by your colors."

"Colors?" The red stoned one inquired. It wasn't taunting or teasing, but simply curious and slightly amused in tone. Without so much as opening up her mouth to speak, Y/n pointed a hesitantly to the man closest to hers' stone on his hand.

An almost silent chuckle from the said man next to her caused a small heat to run its course to her face before she sipped her drink quickly to cover the color that followed. It wasn’t unnoticed by Feyre who all but whipped her head to her and looked between the two of them. Her eyes widened and shot a look back at the wingless man, again that same smirk adorned her face. He seemed to nod her way before starting. It sent Y/n into a small spiral.

“I am Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." The breath was caught in Y/n's throat. "Here you have Cassian, my lead general for my armies,” mentioning towards the red rock male accompanied by a small wave by the man. He seemed to try and break the ice slightly by offering a large grin towards the girl, “and Azriel, my Spymaster.” 

The weight of who exactly sat in her little house sat heavily on Y/n's shoulders. These weren't just Fae; these people were important and extremely powerful.

The nerves that were settling tidal waved her body again. However, with or without her knowledge, a slight breeze against her ankle had her thoughts disrupted and nerves paused as her attention was taken back to the more broodish male next to her. His eyes seemed to have been gaging her reaction prior to her catching him as he held the gaze for a moment. Y/n was thankful for the reprieve as she still let herself linger on his outline.

The Spymaster slightly bowed his head in her direction and she did it back out of pure instinct to brush off the ogling she had obviously been doing. Without noticing a small hand brushed Rhys across the room to assess the building curiosity and tension of the two.

Without Y/n's knowledge, during Feyre's time in the night court, she had recalled memories of Y/n and her while telling her new family about the few happy memories she had back in the human lands. The males in the room had all known about the human best friend prior, even holding her in a very high regard through the love and care that she had for their now high lady. As Feyre had gone more in depth with these memories, conversations over wine and late-night chats with the inner court had taken place, most of these concluding that Y/n would not only be an asset amongst them but someone's (specifically a silent-type spymaster) favorite person to talk to.

Feyre had insisted behind closed doors to her mate that the two would be a match made by the gods. Seeing them in person, Rhys couldn't help but agree.

Their personalities eerily matched, the strength. Hells, even their outward looks matched each other.

Taking a breath, the human girl let the conversation continue.

"It is a pleasure to meet all of you." Going on out on a limb Y/n had cleared her throat, "Any friend of Feyre is a friend of mine so please make yourselves at home and I will add more servings to dinner tonight.” Quickly, Y/n excused herself before she could make a fool out of herself once again with her eyes towards a certain man. She opened the pantry to grab some of the preserved meat to begin a marinade and placed it on the counter.

More hushed whispers made its way into the room from no doubt her friend poking for information, but Y/n paid no mind and allowed herself to become engrossed in the work ahead of her upon realizing that she would need to go out before the sun set any further to get some more supplies for the week as her stock was not enough as is.

In the other room, the high lady was all but giddy.

“What was that?” Feyre asked towards the shadowsinger. The lot turned to look at Azriel, all expecting some sort of answer.

"I don't know what you mean." Bluntly put, he didn't. To go more in depth with the strangeness of the past couple minutes, he had tacked it up to the budding affections for the woman based on the loving stories he had heard from Feyre, nothing more. Although the others where not convinced in the slightest.

"She seems sweet, hesitant, but sweet." He attempted to take the attention away from himself before Rhys knocked back the rest of the tea in his mug. 

“Keep telling yourself that.” He smirked and turned towards his mate. Cassian, ever so clueless, gave a shrug and turned towards Feyre as well.

“I agree though, she is nice.” He began, “I thought humans hated us.” 

“They do, you will see that when you meet my sisters and evidentially the queens.” Feyre began, also playing with the homemade ceramic cup as she had finished moments ago. “Y/n is different. She doesn’t judge and is loyal to no end. If you three showed up without me asking for help she probably would've shot you," Cassian winced but nodded at the image, "however she has made it clear growing up together that anyone that gained my trust has gained hers.” 

"Well, hopefully we can all gain another ally here in the human lands. Give someone Azriel can bunk with when he's over here." The smug tone in Rhys's voice was obvious. The Spymaster stiffened in his spot at the inclination and tease but relaxed upon hearing the girl return from the kitchen, realizing she had most likely not heard the comment. Although, he didn't understand why he was so on edge around the female.

“Now I don’t have that many bedrooms, and by that many I mean I have two. You four should be able to fit fine as long as a pair of you share, there are only three beds.” The human girl began sitting down ever so slightly closer, to who she now knows as Azriel, and then continued. “I’ll be down here on the couch so you all can have your privacy.” 

The aspect of the girl before him sleeping on an uncomfortable plush chair didn’t jive the best with Azriel as he watched Cassian turn towards her and give one of his show stopping smiles with a small ‘Thanks’ to follow. She returned it and then looked towards Rhys offering herself slightly. She seemed more confident now, settled with the information that had been piled onto her prior.

“If you guys want some privacy, I can go make myself busy for a couple hours. I need to see if there is any migration in the hunt this year so I can start curing it. The sun is setting soon so I need to go sooner rather than later” Feyre turned towards her with a confused startle, one that Y/n took as her calling her out on trying to leave. "I just need to be gone for a bit, it'll give you all time and me time to make sure you also weren't found." She attempted to assure, but that wasn't what had Feyre so obviously now upset.

“You still hunt?” The girl knew the dangers of the woods just outside the door purely because Y/n had taught her such, but why would she still need to exert herself and put herself in danger, Feyre didn't know. She was still young, older than Feyre had been prior to meeting Rhys yes, but why she would willingly still put herself at risk was a loss to the group. All of them had the understanding that a specific high lord was supposed to provide for the loved ones of Feyre. Call it protective instinct, but they had grown slightly attached to the girl, even more so now that they had officially met. "Y/n, why would you still go out and hunt. I mean I know you like your time and I this house holds memories, so I see why you stayed despite it all..." Y/n had tilted her head in question, taking a moment as Feyre continued to speak. "But you taught me yourself, it isn't safe out there and to put yourself in danger unnecessarily seems reckless."

It clicked with Y/n upon hearing her best friend finish her thoughts. The hunch that she had about the Fae and Feyre's sister's status came back into her mind as all her theories about her being left for the wolves (figuratively and literally) were confirmed. Sighing, Y/n placed her bow around her back, looking to Feyre with warmth. She had to try and break this gently as not to further ruin the strained relationship amongst her sisters.

“The Fae you bargained with said he would provide for your family, loved ones...” All tension left her as understanding emanated through her pores, it was almost palpable. He didn't know why, but as she met Feyre’s eyes made Azriel’s heart throb, “I’m not blood related Feyre.” 

"That shouldn't have mattered. I said family and loved ones. The aid that came to Elain and Nesta should've been extended to you as well." A small wince ricocheted off Y/n's features, but she schooled it back quickly as to not enrage the fae woman more.

"They needed it more."

The realization upon the girl's face crushed Y/n slightly and she backtracked quickly. 

“Don’t worry though! It’s not like I had any family to care for since everyone left so my sources weren't drained as much,” She winced as almost all eyes turned to her as she was not helping her case, “Hunting isn’t too bad lately and I have some leftover stock when I need it.” 

“He didn’t help you. They didn't help you...” Y/n chuckled before pure disbelief rooted from Feyre’s. “Ace, I am so sorry. I thought you would be involved in the aid or that they would make sure you got some, I didn’t mean for you to be left-” 

The nickname pulled strings within Y/n's heart, all the while everyone in the room had felt theirs crack and fill with flames towards the high lord of spring and the blood relatives of Feyre.

“Angel, it’s okay. To be honest it didn’t register with me either until the riches came for your family and I was left.” The boys glanced towards the human girl, one looked prolonged and had an urge to send her a comforting word despite his confused mentality. Rhys sensed the distress his mate still felt as she watched Y/n try to break the awkwardness as she slipped the bow off her shoulders and picked up her quiver. All the while Azriel couldn’t control the small lick of shadows that wrapped around her ankle and gently rippled towards her in a comforting manner, pulling her gently back to the sitting room and hearth.

“What is this?” She questioned before reaching out and having another small tendril wrap around her wrist and lay in her palm almost as if looking at her. The swirl of the black and what seemed to be a small abyss entrapped her attention as an Illyrian held his breath in a slight surprise. “Well, hello.” 

The shadow rippled towards her and ran up her arm slowly as she murmured at how pretty it looked. Y/n didn't truly know to what extent the fae's hearing could go as if she did, she most likely would have kept her mouth shut about the beauty of the wisp. Heat had flushed Azriel's ears, subtle enough to hide, but not enough for him to ignore the stir in his chest. Normally, Az would pull the darkness back, not allow them to roam as freely as not to scare someone by accident. However, with the girl's soft expression from her moment with Feyre, and the gentleness that she held her hands out to cup the shadow. He couldn’t help but allow the shadow to explore and settle before the girl’s ear. He allowed the shadows at his back whisper everything they found about her as they did their assessment.

Genuine. Gentle. Keep. We like. We like. Soft. We like.

For a human, Y/n was beautiful, effortlessly so. Azriel didn't need his shadows to tell him that much.

Y/n didn't know if this was offensive to partake in or just a normal weeknight occurrence with the dark tendrils. She had glanced at Feyre from across the room but couldn't catch her eye as she seemed lost in thought.

A breath in her ear startled Y/n so much she jumped. Someone had whispered in her ear, but taking count of everyone as they were, nobody stood next to her. Y/n naturally queried her head and listened further as to hear it again if it decided to repeat its' actions.

“Is it talking to you?” Cassian prompted, almost awestruck. The human gave a quick shake of her head, still remaining quiet.

"No, no. I don't think so anyway." Turning her head back to them again she shrugged, "It just felt like someone breathed against my ear."

"They are cool aren't they?" Feyre goaded from across the room. "When I first met them I couldn't help but want to know more."

"Feyre darling, when you first met them, Cass had to assure you they didn't bite..." A small thwack sounded in the room as Cassian laughed at the memory and now narrowed eyes of the High Lord to his lady.

“They are soft.” She muttered back, not truly focused on the now appeased atmosphere. “They feel soft.” A sigh escaped Azriel in a twisted sense of relief. However, without realizing it, that one breath costed him a split second of control on the wisps as a larger bunch followed the single to where it stood wrapped around the nape of Y/n's neck. As a physical reaction, he had attempted to grab it back, but to no avail.

Y/n had frozen, looking at the Spymaster in a slightly panicked fashion.

"This isn't going to like..." Y/n winced again but deadpanned her features to bring a little humor into the situation, "...kill me, right? I don't think they make headstones explaining 'death by mist' here."

Cassian and Feyre had let out a laugh at the image while Rhys let a smile reach his eyes. As for Azriel, all the poor male could do was shake his head, not trusting his voice. As he watched her, he could've sworn there was a twinkle within her eye at the darkness that normally shrouded him.

It did bring a sense of peace to himself and satisfy an urge he didn’t know he had.

“These things talk to you?" The question rung out of Y/n with confidence. Whatever nerves she had prior with the bunch seeming to truly run from her body. Rhys looked towards the shadow singer in confirmation, while again, Azriel simply nodded his head. This girl truly had him lost for words.

“Well do you all have a name?” The question was not asked towards the bunch in front of Y/n. No, Y/n believed to ask the wisps that were at Az's beck and call if they had a name. Azriel cocked his head. Did she just ask if the shadows had a name? The smile that spread over Azriel's face was almost contagious. A small giggle fascinated him from his thoughts and Y/n noted the ripple of dark that now snuck fully away from the winged man she was undeniably but in denial about being attracted to. 

“Is that a weird question?"

"No, not at all." Az tried to play it off, his image was on the line here.

"His shadows are basically an extension of himself Y/n." Cassian slung an arm around the back of the seat to turn more towards her. "It's his 'emotions and unconscious thoughts' type stuff that controls them if he doesn't think about it."

"Oh." Her face flushed. "Oops."

"Don't worry about it." It was rushed, but the assurance hit Y/n as she offered a smile.

“Az, I think your shadows have a new favorite.” Azriel shot Cassian a glare before slightly softening towards the girl. For some reason, he didn’t mind the slight intrusion. The aspect of her being close to something that could protect her and be with her no matter what eased an instinctual itch that he could only remember feeling towards his High lady upon her ascension. This ran deeper, but the itch was there, nonetheless.

“I’m glad you like them." Another small lick of the tendril eased its way behind her ear as the rest slinked back towards the spymaster and he immediately found himself focusing on questioning what they talked about and why they reacted to her in such a way.

Warm. Sneaking glances. Hope.

Busy bodies.

“Oh, they definitely have a new favorite.” Rhys couldn’t help but give a smirk towards Y/n before standing and asking where the rooms were for the night, he wished to wash up from their journey. Jumping, Y/n had corrected herself before reaching for the door, adjusting to the leftover sunlight of the forest.

“Of course! Where are my manners? It's up those stairs and to the left for you two.” She turned to Feyre, “You get my room. You know how to work the bath.” 

Grateful, Feyre bowed slightly and sent a wink before following the man up the stairs. 

“You two are getting the guest room, there are two beds which should fit,” She shot a look towards the massive wings behind them, “most of you.” 

Cassian laughed. 

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed! I am going to hopefully continue this with little inserts throughout the story to keep it interesting. I had a whole years' worth of one-shots that I am trying to re-vamp to this plot line, but if anyone has any requests do let me know! I don't have anything on my page about requests, but my inbox is open if anyone wants to shoot one my way.

[yassbishimvintage]

Can you write about Kelvin's character in Waves and his life after prison? Maybe he's out on parole or released for good behavior, trying to rebuild his life with his family. Y/N is an old friend who once loved him, but it was unrequited, so she had to watch him fall in love with that other girl back in high school.

Heeey. I had to do a crash course on this movie. Sorry this took forever.

The fluorescent lights of the corner store buzz faintly, blending with the quiet hum of Tyler’s thoughts. He’s been trying to keep a low profile since coming home, but even a quick trip to pick up a few essentials feels like walking a tightrope. He keeps his head down, his basket half full, when a soft, familiar voice stops him in his tracks.

“It’s nice to see you, Ty.”

He freezes, the words washing over him like a wave he wasn’t ready for. Turning slowly, he sees Jewel standing there, her smile warm and easy, just like he remembered. She’s holding a carton of oat milk in one hand and her phone in the other, her eyes sparkling with genuine surprise.

“Jewel?” His voice cracks slightly, disbelief mingling with something he can’t quite name—relief, maybe? It’s been years, but time hasn’t dulled her features. If anything, she looks more self-assured, like someone who’s grown into her own skin.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she says with a laugh, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “I just moved back. I heard you were back too, but I wasn’t sure if…” She trails off, her gaze softening. “It’s really good to see you again.”

Tyler shifts uncomfortably, caught between the weight of his past and the unexpected comfort of her presence. “Yeah… You too. It’s been a while.”

“It has,” she agrees, stepping a little closer. “How’ve you been?”

The question lingers in the air, loaded but without judgment. Tyler hesitates before offering a small shrug. “Taking things one day at a time.”

Jewel nods, her smile never faltering. “Well, if you’re ever up for catching up properly, let me know. It’s been way too long.” She digs into her bag, scribbles her number on the back of her receipt, and hands it to him.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” she says before turning back toward the checkout line, leaving Tyler standing there, holding her number like it’s a lifeline he didn’t know he needed.

This moment deepens the tension Tyler feels, caught between his desire to reconnect with Jewel and the fear of confronting his past. His mom’s excitement contrasts with his internal conflict, adding another layer of complexity to their reunion.

As Tyler heads toward the living room, his mom’s words hang in the air like an unspoken promise. “Maybe you can stop by and say hi sometime,” she said, but it feels more like an expectation than a suggestion.

He sits down on the couch, his mind racing. The idea of Jewel coming back into his life, knowing everything he’s been through, feels like too much right now. His mom clearly hasn’t made the connection between his past and the present—her innocence in the matter only makes the weight on Tyler's chest heavier.

He stares at the TV, the sound of it barely registering. He’s replaying his conversation with Jewel over and over in his mind. He can’t help but wonder if she’d even look at him the same way if she knew the truth. If she knew about his time in jail. About what happened.

Not yet, he thinks. Not now.

For a moment, Tyler just wants to be normal—just a guy trying to pick up where he left off before everything fell apart. The reality of telling his mom feels like a storm on the horizon that he’s not ready to face. Not when he’s still trying to piece himself back together.

He sighs and looks down at the old sneakers he’s wearing—ones he’s had since high school. Something small and familiar, but still a symbol of the life that feels so far away.

“I’ll talk to her. I just… need a little time,” he mutters under his breath, though he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince.

This moment is significant because it shows Tyler’s internal battle—he’s not ready to share the full truth, and the weight of that secret is something he’s not willing to deal with yet. The idea of reconnecting with Jewel could be his first real shot at normalcy, but he’s stuck between wanting to hold on to that hope and being terrified of the consequences of his past being exposed.

The week drags on in a blur, but Tyler can’t shake the thought of Jewel. Even though he’s been keeping himself busy—helping around the house, running errands—his mind keeps drifting back to that moment in the store.

Then, out of nowhere, his mom hands him a container wrapped in foil. “This is for Jewel,” she says, her tone casual. “I thought she might appreciate it. I know how busy moving can be. You don’t mind dropping it off, do you?”

Tyler looks at the food—his mom’s homemade casserole, the kind that always seemed to make everything feel like it would be okay. She hands him the container with a smile, expecting him to do this simple favor without a second thought.

“Yeah, sure,” Tyler answers, trying to mask the knot that’s tightening in his stomach. The last thing he wants right now is to face Jewel, not like this. He’s barely figured out how to face himself, let alone deal with his past.

When he pulls up to her house, it’s a nice place—modest but cozy, like something that belongs to someone who values peace and simplicity. He hesitates before getting out of the car, but finally, he grabs the container, walks up to the door, and knocks.

The door opens, and Jewel stands there, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, looking casual, almost like she’s in hiding. She’s different than the confident, outgoing Jewel he remembered. This time, she doesn’t seem eager to be noticed, her smile reserved but warm.

“Tyler,” she says, surprised but not uncomfortable. “Hey.”

“I, uh… my mom sent some food for you. She thought you might need it with the move and everything,” he says, offering the container, his voice awkward.

Jewel takes the food, glancing at him for a moment, then back at the casserole. There’s a softness to her that catches Tyler off guard. She doesn’t seem like the same girl who once wore her heart on her sleeve.

“Tell your mom thank you,” she says, stepping back a bit. “I really appreciate it.”

Tyler stands there for a moment, unsure of what to say next. He wants to stay, but the distance between them feels... thick. It’s like she’s pulling away, or maybe it’s him. There’s a weight to the air—something unspoken but heavy, like they both know they’re standing on the edge of something, but neither knows how to jump in.

“You… doing okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost like he’s afraid of breaking the fragile silence between them.

Jewel looks up at him, her expression unreadable for a second before she nods slowly. “Yeah. Just... taking things slow, you know?” She glances down at the food. “I’ve had a lot on my plate.”

Tyler nods, feeling the familiar tug in his chest—the pull of something left unresolved. The old crush he’d known about is still there, buried under the weight of everything that’s happened, but now it feels different. Something more, something deeper. But it’s like they’re both waiting for the other to make a move, and neither one is ready.

“Alright,” Tyler says, his voice tight. “Well, I’ll, uh… let you get back to it. Take care of yourself, Jewel.”

She smiles, but it’s more of a gentle curve of her lips than the bright grin he remembered. “You too, Ty. Really.”

As he walks back to his car, a sense of confusion settles in. Jewel isn’t trying to be seen this time, and Tyler can’t tell if it’s because she’s changed or because she’s hiding something. What’s different now? Why does she feel like she’s drifting away when everything in him is telling him to reach out?

Tyler’s hand rests on the door handle of his car, but as he hears Jewel’s words, something in his chest tightens. He freezes, then slowly turns back around. She’s standing in the doorway, the casserole still clutched in her hands, her gaze fixed on him as though she’s made up her mind about something.

“I always liked you, Ty,” she says abruptly, her voice firm but laced with vulnerability. There’s no hesitation, no playful teasing, just raw honesty.

The words hang in the air between them like a weight, and for a long moment, Tyler just stands there, caught off guard. He’s never been great with feelings, especially when it comes to her. Not after everything—everything he’s done, everything that’s happened.

Jewel shifts slightly, the silence stretching thin, as if waiting for him to say something—anything.

Tyler blinks, his thoughts racing. He knew about the crush she had on him back in the day, but hearing her say it so plainly, in this quiet moment... it hits differently now. His stomach churns, a mix of old emotions surfacing, the memories of when things were simpler.

“I… I didn’t know,” he mutters, almost to himself, though it’s meant for her. He takes a step back toward her, unsure if he wants to close the distance or run away from it. His chest feels tight, and his mouth is dry. “I never really figured it out. I thought…”

Jewel tilts her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know. I was always the ‘girl next door,’ right? The one you never really saw. But I did. I always liked you, Ty.”

Her words cut through him like a sudden gust of wind, unexpected and sharp. Tyler’s mind flashes back to all the times he’d seen Jewel in the past—her laughter, the way she’d always been there, the way she never made a big deal of her feelings. He never took them seriously. He never saw her as someone who might actually want something more with him, not when his world was so wrapped up in his own mess.

“I… I wasn’t in a place to really see that,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper. The weight of the past is suddenly crashing down on him, and the guilt of never paying attention to her feelings hits him harder than he expected.

Jewel shifts her stance, her fingers tightening around the casserole dish as if it’s grounding her. “I get it. I do. But that’s not why I’m saying it now.” Her voice softens, the vulnerability in her tone unmistakable. “I’m not asking for anything, Ty. I just thought you should know. I think... maybe it’s something you should know.”

Tyler’s chest tightens, a knot forming in his throat. The words feel like a confession, not just from Jewel but from him as well. He’s been carrying his own feelings for her for years, hidden away under layers of guilt and regret. Seeing her now, in this new light, stirs something deep inside him. But he’s not ready. He’s not ready to face what that might mean.

“I’m not who I was, Jewel,” he says quietly, the weight of his past slipping into his words. “I’ve done things… things I’m not proud of. And I don’t think you want to be anywhere near that.”

Jewel holds his gaze, steady and calm. “Ty, I’ve seen a lot of people I care about mess up. I know what happens when you make mistakes. But it doesn’t mean you’re not worth giving another chance, or that you don’t deserve to have a future.”

For a long time, Tyler doesn’t say anything. He stands there, processing her words, the heaviness of everything he’s been carrying weighing on him. He wants to reach out, to say the things that are on the tip of his tongue, but there’s still so much he’s not ready to admit to himself, let alone to her.

Jewel gives him a small, understanding smile. “I’ll leave you to think about it,” she says softly. “But whenever you’re ready… I’m here, Ty. No pressure.”

With that, she turns and steps back inside, closing the door softly behind her.

Tyler stands there, alone on the porch, the cool evening air brushing against his skin. Jewel’s words echo in his mind, and for the first time since he’s come home, he feels something stirring inside him—hope, maybe, but also fear. Fear of not being worthy of a second chance, fear of facing the parts of himself he’s been avoiding.

Tyler stands frozen on the porch for a moment, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Jewel’s words land softly, but they hit him with the weight of someone who’s not asking for grand gestures or promises. She’s not expecting him to be someone he’s not—she just wants to be there for him, even if the journey is slow and uncertain.

“Right now,” Jewel continues, her voice steady, her gaze unwavering, “Let’s just focus on rebuilding us.”

The simplicity of the statement cuts through the tension between them, leaving Tyler standing there, unsure of how to respond, but also strangely relieved. It feels like a lifeline—like maybe there’s room for him to breathe again, and maybe this time, it won’t all come crashing down.

“Rebuilding us?” he asks quietly, almost as if the words are foreign, as if the idea of something so simple is all he’s ever wanted but never knew how to ask for.

Jewel nods, her gaze softening. “Yeah. I don’t need you to have all the answers, Ty. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be real.”

Her honesty feels like a balm to his worn-out soul. It’s clear she’s not interested in rushing things, or forcing him into a box of who he should be. She just wants him to take his time, and for that, Tyler feels a little bit of the weight on his chest lift.

“I… I don’t know how to do that,” Tyler admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Jewel gives a small, encouraging smile. “It’s okay. Neither do I. We don’t have to figure it all out right now. We’ll take it slow. We can focus on just… being here for each other. That’s a good place to start.”

Tyler’s heart beats a little faster as he looks at her. There’s no expectation in her eyes, no rush, just a quiet understanding. And for the first time in a long time, Tyler wonders if he’s actually capable of rebuilding—of truly being someone worth standing beside.

For a long moment, they just stand there, neither one saying anything more. It’s enough, for now. The air feels different, the weight of the past less oppressive, and Tyler begins to realize that maybe, just maybe, he’s not as lost as he thought he was. Maybe he doesn’t need to have all the answers. Maybe it’s enough to simply take the first step forward.

“Alright,” he finally says, his voice a little more confident. “One step at a time. No pressure.”

Jewel nods. “Exactly. One step at a time.”

And for the first time, Tyler believes it’s possible. Maybe not everything can be fixed overnight, but maybe, with Jewel by his side—slowly, steadily—they can rebuild what’s been broken.

As he turns to leave, heading back to his car, he feels a shift inside him. The walls that have kept him distant, guarded, seem a little less impenetrable now. Maybe he’s not as alone as he thought.

Maybe rebuilding—both himself and the connection with Jewel—wasn’t as impossible as he believed.

This is the turning point for Tyler. Jewel’s offer to rebuild without rushing and without expectations is exactly what he needs, and it might be the moment he starts to trust in himself again. This gentle approach—allowing space for mistakes and growth—creates a foundation for their relationship to flourish, however that may look.

Tags 🏷️

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[dumbkiri]

A FEAST FOR BIRDS 2

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

HIGHLY REQUESTED

Y'all I know this was a blog for the Batfamily, but DAMN! Was not expecting so much enthusiasm for a second part. Thank you and I hope this one is worth the wait.

This came out rushed too. Will rewrite this part lowkey bc it doesn't satisfy me just yet.

10 pages, 3.6k words

JASON’S POV

This felt surreal. 

With the dark-tinted glasses dulling the colors around me, it showed me how much my world has been dark for so long. It showed me that I couldn’t dare to see the world in color ever again. My life’s goal, up to this point, was to get revenge on the Joker, to get revenge on my family for replacing me. 

All my anger and all my pain, I took it out on them. I couldn't forgive Bruce for sparing Joker’s life when that psychotic ass never bothered to spare me. Beaten and bruised, all I dreamed about was that crowbar hitting me over and over. 

And my last words to her; to [Name]. I wonder if she remembered our last conversation. Because in the moment of taking my last breath, I did. I remember telling her that I wouldn’t be mad at her, for whatever she needed to tell me. 

I did my best to reassure her that everything would be okay. I remember her shaky breaths and the resigned reply she gave to me over the phone. 

I guess I should have stayed to listen to her because if I did, I would have lived. Lived to raise Jay with her. 

When  [Name] walked in with heavy shoulders and a tired smile, I saw my life flash before my eyes. Never did I see those memories when Joker slammed that crowbar against my ribcage. Her [e.color] eyes are dull like my own and her happiness is clouded by her own problems. It was obvious to me, obvious to my family that she was running away. 

Then she showed off the greatest joy in her life, that shine coming back in her eyes. Who would have guessed the little boy she carried in her arms with so much love was a product of our love. A teenage love that couldn’t grow into an adult one. A love that ended with my last breath. A love that created a being for her to cherish in my memory. 

I didn’t want the dinner to end because watching them, my little family, laugh and enjoy their company filled an empty hole in my heart. Their interactions with each other overwhelmed my broken heart and I felt an emotion I haven’t truly felt in awhile; genuine joy.

I want them to stay. I want this moment to go on forever. 

“So I was hoping to do something I haven’t done in a long time.” 

[Name] spoke up after setting her fork down by her plate. She looked at Bruce specifically and asked, “Do you still host the Dance of Snow event?” 

Memories plagued my mind of her ice skating on the rink Bruce provided in his backyard. Every year in the beginning of December, Bruce would host an event for the wealthy. There was the ball aspect of it then the performance [Name] did for charity. The Dance of Snow was how I met her and how we began to fall for one another. 

Her gliding on the ice so effortlessly took my breath away. I couldn’t understand how she moved like that with grace while I fell on my ass every time I let go of the wall. We would laugh about my failures together and fuck it, I will admit I did exaggerate just to hear her laugh again. 

“Ever since the star of the show left,” Dick teased with a shrug of his shoulders, “Bruce only hosted the Winter Ball for the guests. I swear every time they would ask about you, but he would shoot them down with politeness as always.” 

“Perhaps I can surprise them then?” [Name] asked shyly then proceeded to say, “I recently started teaching Jay how to ice skate and I guess my passion for it is coming back to me. I also want Jay to see what I can do in a live performance and show how beautiful this event is.” 

Bruce agreed with ease, no need to convince him when everyone knows how much he admired her show of grace. I mean everyone did and she was the reason why the charity event succeeded so much in the first place. 

“Of course, I’m sure everyone will be happy to see you back. I can get the skating rink set up for your practice in the backyard. Would you like me to call Anthony, you two can do your famous performance as the first show.” 

[Name]’s excitement flourished at the mention of her old ice skating partner while jealousy painted itself over my body. I didn’t notice I let out an audible groan of annoyance at the mention of Anthony until everyone focused on me. 

Oh shit. 

“Lazlo and Anthony don’t get along,” Dick jumped at the first thing to say. His excuse is just as lame as the stupid fake name he gave me. 

But [Name] paid no attention to my disgruntled attitude, instead she giggled and said, “Yes, well Anthony is difficult at times. He wouldn’t be the first person to make friends with anybody. I’m surprised he actually got married! To think that my best friend, who promised he would never get married, actually put a ring on someone. I can hear Jason giving him a bunch of crap for it.” 

Dick and Bruce chuckled at her joke knowing well that I would. 

Because hell yeah I would. Anthony never believed that [Name] and I would last because he described her as gentle while I always showed up with random bruises and cuts. Little did they know, I spent my nights fighting crooks and villains. Then he went on to brag about never being in a relationship because it caused too much drama. 

Anthony turned out to be right anyways since I died. We didn’t last three years or more. I wonder if that self-centered asshole took care of her. I subconsciously clench my hands into fists thinking about another man with my family. 

“I’ll make sure to give him a call then,” Bruce smiled then dinner went by in a blur for me. Like I said, everything felt surreal. I couldn’t help, but think this was all a dream. The intrusive thoughts of revealing myself to [Name] would make everything set in for me. Her reaction, her words to me. 

Say that you missed me, to me. Not to Lazlo. 

Say that you love me, to me. Not to Lazlo. 

Know that it’s me under this disguise, not Lazlo. 

Please [Name] recognize that it’s me, so that I wouldn’t have to do it. Don’t make me take this mask off and show you that I’ve been alive all along, suffering in this dark and gloomy reality. I need you to figure it out all by yourself. 

“Jason.” 

I looked up from my untouched plate full of food and watched Bruce give me a pained look, “How are you holding up?” 

I took notice that everyone disappeared from the table, it was just Bruce and I sitting. When did everyone leave and where to? Wait, I didn’t get to say goodbye to Jay or [Name]. I was too absorbed in all the scenarios that played in my head. 

“Don’t worry they’re still around. JJ is racing Dick out in the backyard and [Name] is writing a letter,” Bruce explained and his eyes never left my own. I knew he was trying to figure out what I was feeling. I knew I had mental breakdowns here and there, this was the time for me to have one actually. 

“I felt better,” I replied honestly, “did you…did you take care of them as best as you could?” Bruce was a questionable parental figure, but he couldn’t have let [Name] walk away like that. She must have told Bruce about her pregnancy and he would have supported her. 

Please tell me you did, old man.

“As much as she allowed me to, yes. [Name] did fairly well in raising Jay and it was only very recent when she cut off ties with us. Now she’s back and we need to know what happened to her.”

“She mentioned an arranged marriage with some business partner, know anything about that?” 

Bruce shook his head dejectedly, “No, but I do know her mother has been trying to find a suitor for [Name] for years. It’s all some of the older women gossip in Gotham about. Some have tried to offer their own son’s hand to her. But [Name] is stubborn to a fault. She has told me many times that you still hold her heart.” 

Bruce gently smiled at this revelation like it was going to ease my worries and insecurities away. But it didn’t. 

“Why?” I asked selfishly, “Why hasn’t she forgotten about me? You all did. Replaced me without a single care in the world. Dumped the memory of me like I never mattered in the first place. So excuse me if I question the integrity of her…fuck, this isn’t…stop giving me that look.” 

I faltered at the sad look on Bruce’s face. My harsh words disappeared like a drop of blood in water. 

“She loves you, Jason. Five years have passed and all she can think about is you. All she does is remember you. She remembers the [color] flowers you would throw at her feet when she finished a performance. She would talk about the books you’d gushed about. There’s also a show she recently started watching that she thinks you’d like. It’s just what [Name] does in order to keep you alive. She does it on her own, but there’s Jay to remind her too when she hits her lowest.” 

I shook my head and fought back, “It’s impossible. I-I didn’t even remember her when I came back. All I remember was the pain and the revenge I wanted to take. Now…now she’s here with him? That boy is supposed to be mine? I can’t believe that, that’s not what I expected when I told you I would come back to this family on my own terms.”

“The Lazarus Pit has effects, you don’t need to feel ashamed for not remembering her. I don’t blame you for only thinking about revenge. What you went through-”

I stood up from the table, my food cold and unappealing in this heated moment, “He’s so small and she’s- Damn it, she’s still the girl I fell in love with all those years ago. I cannot afford to be distracted, not when my team and I are close to taking down Black Mask. I cannot go back to being the guy she loved. I’m no longer him.” 

“Well it’s a good thing you’re dead then,” A voice so irritating spoke up, it sent me scowling at him behind my glasses and mask. 

Damian plopped a plate of cookies on the table and took his seat. He looked at me with boredom in his bright green eyes and asked, “What?”

“You need to watch your words, Damian,” Bruce shook his head in disappointment at his youngest son. 

“You heard him as well as I did,” Damian picked up a cookie and broke it in half, “He’s no longer the guy [Name] loved. He’s Red Hood now, a vigilante fighting villains. He can’t be a father or a lover. So it’s a good thing Jason Todd is dead because he’s not him.”

Before I could respond, [Name] spoke up as she walked into the dining room. 

“Alright, I put my little gremlin to sleep and I feel sleep catching up to me.” She stretched her body and let out a small yawn. Her exhaustion looked to be catching up to her after days of traveling. 

Bruce stood up and told her, “You can stay the night if you’d like. There are plenty of rooms to sleep in and I’m sure Alfred would love to prepare a room for you.” 

[Name] waved Bruce off with a smile, “Thank you, but I need to get to work on the house. I promised Jay I would renovate as quickly as I can so he can come home. Not that he doesn’t like to spend time with his family.” 

She shot quickly hoping she didn’t offend Bruce or Damian. The demon spawn went back to eating his cookies while Bruce said, “Don’t worry, we know Jay loves spending time with us. Do you need help with anything? I can arrange some help. I’m sure Dick wouldn’t mind helping you out either.” 

“I got this handled, Bruce,” [Name] walked over to Bruce and she passed me like ships in the night. Her perfume wafted my way and lingered in my space, slowly seeping through the face mask. She started wearing perfume more mature like instead of the usual peachy flower scent. 

I turned around and saw her embrace Bruce with a small ‘thank you’ and the old man hugged her tightly. I knew Bruce towered over the average woman, but she really was small in his arms. Like a father holding his daughter. 

Then she walked over to Damian snacking on the cookies. She pinched his cheek and pulled it roughly, ‘Don’t teach Jay such obscene words next time, Dami’. Damian choked on his cookie for a bit before he rolled his eyes muttering a wack apology. I’m so gonna kick his ass when she leaves. 

[Name] embraced Damian in a hug and the boy begrudgingly accepted it. Then his green eyes landed on me, watching them carefully. The brat stuck his tongue out at me, hugging [Name] back while I subtly gave him the finger. I hate that kid. 

“Lazlo, it’s time to go,” Dick walked in the dining room with his jacket on and a dark blue scarf around his neck. Right, we had patrol for this night. “[Name], make sure to lock your doors and check every window. There have been reports of burglary in this area.”

“I may be fragile looking on ice, but I can defend myself pretty well, on land” [Name] happily smiled at Dick, fake throwing a punch on Damian’s shoulder. “Anyways, I really gotta go before I pass out behind the wheel. I love you all  and I’ll see you guys tomorrow. It was nice meeting you, Lazlo! I hope to see you some other time!” 

She looked at me with a pretty smile and soft giggle, fishing her car keys out of her pocket. I waved back at her silently and watched her leave the house with Alfred accompanying her. When I heard the front door shut, I looked at my brothers and my old man saying, “This shit sucks.” 

……

Jay woke up to the sound of shuffling in the room next to him. It sounded like someone was busy searching for something. Looking at his clock on his nightstand, Jay was not happy to be woken up at 3 am. Then fear seeped into his body. 

His grandma always told him that ghouls and monsters come out at 3 am looking for souls to take. Maybe this monster was looking for his soul! Jay scrambled off his bed and quietly ran over to his toy crate. He opened it slowly and saw his plastic red bat ready to be used. 

Jay would have to beat up this monster if he wants to keep his soul!

The little boy then walked over to his open bedroom door, thanking his mom silently for leaving his night light on in the hallway. It helped him to see that the monster was in his dad’s old room. Sneaking down the carpet hallway with his bat raised high, Jay urged his heart to calm down. He was afraid that the monster would be able to hear it beat so loudly. 

Taking a deep breath in, the little boy forced himself to peek inside the room. There was only one light on in his dad’s room and it was the lamp on his desk. Then he spotted the monster at that desk reading letters. Jay recognized those letters that were written by his mom. 

Hey! Those were letters for his dad! Not this monster!

Jay’s eyebrows furrowed in anger and the little boy sneaked into the room ready to whack the monster back to where it came from. But when he lifted his bat high in the air, he heard the monster sniffle…like it was crying. 

Confusion clouded Jay’s motive to beat up the monster and his eyes glanced at the mirror showing off the monster’s face. The monster looked like it was human and it had a large scar going from his cheekbone to his jaw. 

When the monster wiped his eyes, they opened up to reveal familiar blue eyes. Jay faltered as he knew what they reminded him of. He looked over at a picture frame with his mom and dad as teenagers holding each other after she won a championship at her skating tournament. 

The bat fell from his tiny grasp and the sound startled the monster…no, man. Jay watched the man stand up and whip around with tears falling down his face. 

Black hair and blue eyes. He looked older, but this was for sure his dad. No doubt. 

“Daddy?” Jay asked, his own tears blurring his vision. Next thing the kid knew was that he moved on autopilot. He jumped at the man and wrapped his arms around his dad’s legs clutching onto them tightly. He started bawling his eyes out as this was his dream. To get to meet his dad. 

…

“Jason, did you find the let-” Dick walked into Jason’s old room and stopped short. His eyes landed on Jason looking at him with wide, teary eyes. But that’s not what took the cake for him. 

It was the little boy holding onto Jason’s leg and crying into the dirty jeans. Dick wanted to let Jay down easy, by making something up like this had been a dream. But the glare Jason sent him from across the room stilled the older Wayne ward. Despite Jason’s red eyes from crying, Dick understood the threat in his deadly glare. 

Shut your damn mouth, Dickwad.

Quietly, Jason set the letter down with a picture of Jay as a newborn down on the desk. He wiped his eyes then pulled his leg away from Jay by crouching down in front of the crying boy. He didn’t know what to say, but the words slipped from his mouth so easily, 

“Hey, kid, you’re getting boogers all over my clothes.” 

Jason chuckled and watched Jay wipe his nose with the sleeve of his pajama shirt. A little giggle came from the boy and he gave Jason a timid ‘sorry’. They stared at one another with smiles on their faces, enjoying each other’s presence. 

“You have your mother’s smile, you know that?” 

The fake stars on Jason’s ceiling twinkled in the slight darkness of the room, not as bright as the kid’s smile that reminded him so much of [Name]. Her words written in the letter came back to him as he gathered the courage to hug Jay as himself, not as Lazlo. 

Jay melted in his dad’s hug and he wrapped his arms around his neck, saying, “It’s nice to meet you too, daddy.”

…

Dear Jason, 

Today I have had the pleasure of welcoming our bundle of joy into the world. His name is Jay [L.Name] and he is super adorable. He came out with a tuft of black hair, similar to yours. He came pretty fast and easy for it being my first every birth. Probably my last too. 

Anyways, Bruce and Dick have been such a great help. They helped a lot along with my father and they cannot wait to meet Jay. Actually, the picture is of Dick holding Jay and oh boy! I didn’t think holding Jay would make him cry like it did me. 

Do you think Bruce would cry too? I guess we’ll have to see and of course, I will give you the details :)

I’m not going to lie to you, this is my fifth time trying to write this letter to you. I guess knowing that you’ll never get to meet Jay brings sadness to me. I didn’t get the chance to tell you either and I know you said you wouldn’t be mad at me when I told you. 

But something tells me that you would have been better off knowing about him before you died. So as an apology, I named our boy after you and I’m sure the nickname JJ wil stick with his family. I’m already smiling at his future which will be surrounded by your brother and father.

Bruce has taken your death pretty badly. Yet he does his best to keep an eye on me and now he will do the same for Jay. I can see him trying to make up for your passing and I don’t know how to ease his pain. I hope someday we will cross the bridge together. 

I’m also grateful that Dick was present for the birth of Jay, I really needed someone by my side. Needless to say, we both cried tears of joy together when Jay came. I think I will tease Dick about this for the rest of his life. 

Oh, I provided the picture I mentioned earlier so you can see Jay for the first time. I swear he will grow up to look like you. I’m glad he got your good looks to be honest. All the girls will fall for him like I did for you. Which I’m not looking forward to. I just hope he doesn’t get his charisma from Dick. 

Unfortunately, this is the end of the letter. I fear that Dick might cry a tsunami over JJ if I don’t retrieve our babe. I miss you, jaybird. 

Forever Yours,  [Name]. 

......

TAGGED

@makanirock05 @accountforreading123 @itsmonicabc @huntressofartemis3 @kathybernice

[pastelaspirations]

I know, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, man, I have trouble saying the word in real life too 'cus I keep getting emotional damage from being reminded of my own freaking fic, I have single-handedly ruined a word and entire concept for myself and others, I want to deeply apologize-

Funny story; I didn't initially realize that "perseverance" was actually a canon undertale soul trait until way after the fact. I can't even remember what chapter I was on when I finally remembered. I named the fic "Perseverance" not because I was clever and connected it to undertale by cheekily naming it something that was so integral to the game anyway. N o. It's 'cus I'm bad at names, took me forever to come up with that, and when I finally did, thought, "G o o d. That's the name, took me 18 years to think of it, I'm not changing it-"

Only realized how genius I looked way after the fact. I wanna say I remembered it before the chapter that soul outlines were introduced and became somewhat important, but I can't even be sure. It was only an extremely fortunate coincidence that the name just so happened to be a canon soul trait and fit in line perfectly with something I had planned for the fic since the beginning anyway.

So, no. I am not as big brained as I look sometimes-

Ive got the Perseverance AU brainrot i cant even watch Underverse anymore

Art and AU by @pastelaspirations

[that-was-anticlimactic]

i will never understand how or why the httyd movies did the books such an injustice.

the movies aren't even an adaptation - they stole the name of the series, the name of some of the characters and places, and the general idea that there are dragons. honestly, i would be fine with the movies and maybe even like them if they didn't capitalize off of cressida cowell's incredible books that never get any credit.

the books are an amazing story about the cycle of violence and how vengeance and revenge is dangerous. hiccup says that the past is a ghost story, one we need to learn from to better ourselves. the books are about how everyone deserves freedom, how every creature, every being on the earth deserves to be free. we see that in the slavemark, with the dragons.

and like... hiccup is so different. they did him a severe injustice. he's scrawny and intelligent and learned to talk to dragons simply by observing them! he chooses kindness first above all else; instead of yelling at toothless to train him, he is kind. and in the end, that kindness is why toothless chose to save him. bc even toothless himself says that dragons are inherently selfish creatures who care only for their survival. hiccup is brave - his beliefs differ drastically from both the vikings and the world.

hiccup is a child who chose to do the right thing even at the expense of himself. he agreed to free the slaves on nobert's ship, and in return, they gave him the slavemark which is easy to give but cannot be removed. he was like twelve. and having the slavemark means he cannot be with his tribe or his family, it means he isn't considered a human being anymore. and he keeps it a secret for awhile until it's revealed and when it is everyone turns their backs on hiccup. his family, his tribe, his mentor, people he TRUSTED. everyone except fishlegs, and, once she got over the shock, camicazi. he was thirteen. and even when he lost his memories and was really injured, he persisted. he was told to go to tomorrow and to save the dragons and he did bc in his heart he knew it was right even though he didn't know who he was or how he got there.

and fishlegs,,, oh my god FISHLEGS!!! the did him SO DIRTY!!! fishlegs is hiccup's best friend, one of the main motivators for hiccup. he steals norbert's potato for the sake of fishlegs, he gives fishlegs his dragon and goes to retrieve another, he takes the blame for fishlegs. and fishlegs does the same for him. he takes the slavemark with pride. he refuses to turn. he gives hiccup his lobster claw necklace which is his most prized possession. he is brave for hiccup, he believes hiccup is alive. he fights for hiccup harder than anyone else ever has. he does not turn. his is loyal, has allergies, has asthma, has a squint and a limp, has glasses bc he's blind without them... and he's still a hero despite being a runt, despite everyone even the adults telling him he's hopeless, telling hiccup to leave him behind.

and they cut camicazi! i'm sorry, but astr*d is nothing compared to camicazi. camicazi is a tiny, feral child who can easily best hiccup, fishlegs, and pretty much anyone in a sword fight. she can bring a grown man to tears with her rudery and smack talk. she is recklessly brave and craves adventure and follows hiccup blindly bc she trusts him that much. she isn't in love with hiccup - in fact she doesn't care about romance and love. she gives up everything to help hiccup bc she has a strong sense of justice. she is the motivator, the cheerleader, she finds a positive in everything. she never gives up. literally never gives up. and that's one of the most inspiring things about her: she always has hope.

and toothless! god!!! toothless is *thought to be* a common or garden dragon. he is horrifically tiny, he is literally toothless, and is the biggest brat in the world. he will cause problems on purpose. he has a stutter, he's the most selfless selfish dragon around. he and hiccup can talk to each other. he masks his fear with singing and being annoying. his growth is remarkable. he starts off refusing to obey hiccup, doing the opposite of what he says, making life harder for literally everyone around him, and he's still somewhat like that. but he's also braver, more caring, more willing to make sacrifices for the sake of others. he's clever, which he needs to be to make up for his size and aggression. he protects hiccup with everything he has, therefore, he protects what hiccup cares about just as hard. he was the only dragon that didn't abandon the vikings in the first book bc he cared about hiccup.

and snotlout,,, god,,, i will never forgive the movies for butchering snotlout. hiccup's cousin, the bully character, the one who is horrifically jealous that hiccup's dad was born before his. the one who desperately wants to prove himself, to be worthy, to make people proud. and you hate him, you despise him. he betrays everyone many times bc of the nothing promised to him by alvin and his mom. he loses himself, turns his back on himself, all bc he wants to prove himself. all bc he wants to be better than hiccup. and hiccup still forgives him and gives him chances, sometimes out of pity, but also bc snotlout is his cousin. he can't just turn his back on him no matter how miserable snotlout made his life. and in the end, snotlout sacrifices himself for hiccup. he gives up his life for hiccup in one last attempt to set things right. his death and the events preceding it are one of my absolute favorite moments in the book. gives me chills. makes me cry.

that's the thing with the books - they're so realistic. there is no inherently happy ending where everything works out. the first book begins with "there were dragons when i was a boy", implying that they're gone now. the books show there are consequences to our actions. they enslaved the dragons, they fought against them during the dragon rebellion all bc alvin and his mom said to, and now they're gone bc a simple apology doesn't fix hundreds of years of enslavement. and the only way for the world to move forward was for the dragons to leave and heal on their own. and now they have to learn to live without them. and yeah i've heard the third movie ends like that but. it doesn't have the build up. it doesn't have "there were dragons when i was a boy". it doesn't have eleven books of development to back it up, to make it feel meaningful.

i know that the movies are really special to a lot of people. i know that, on their own, they're genuinely good movies. i can acknowledge that the soundtrack is amazing and the animation is beautiful. i just can't see past the way they butchered the world that i love, the world that i grew up with. i can't see past the way people yelled at me for saying i liked the books better, the way that people gave me weird looks when i showed them a picture of the original toothless, when i tell them that nightfuries aren't even a type of dragon. cressida cowell created hundreds of different dragons, and the movies couldn't even pick from that. i can't forgive the way that barely anyone knows there are books bc the movie barely gives credit to them. i cannot forgive the way they capitalized off the books and then shoved them aside. i know cressida thinks they're good movies and i know a lot of httyd book fans also like them. but i just... i cannot get over how much they changed and how they missed so much and ignored the books. also they got rid of camicazi so hiccup could have a love interest and that is unforgivable to me.

if you disagree, that is a-okay. we're all entitled to our own opinions. i just ask that you, perhaps, try the books out. give them a chance. bc they're amazing works of art and also just like. don't yell at people who don't like the movies? whether it's bc they prefer the books or just aren't into that kind of movie. and just remember that dreamworks didn't come up with the story; cressida cowell did.

[scionshtola]

i love picking and choosing which viera lore pleases me to apply to cori and which to toss into the wind

[urlocalmagicalcat]

really long rant (happy rant) in the tags, mostly towards @synthetic-lavender /vpos

romance repulsed aros and romance favourable aros are both cool and valid but because i never see anything about us: shoutout to romance indifferent aros. romance neutral aros. aros who just couldn't care less. aros who have a conflicted relationship with romance. aros who are fine with romance in some contexts but not in others. aros who don't mind romance when it's not amatonormativity being shoved down their throats. aros who haven't yet figured out their feelings about romance. aros to whom romance is Just Something That Exists. y'all are rad as hell and it's okay not to 'pick a side'!!

[im-still-a-robot]

The tower!

Our tower!! Malle!!!!!!!!!! And Eviilynn,,,,

Malle is quiet and reserved and is absolutely befitting of the tower. My memory fails me bc its been 11 months but her history is something along the lines of her father cheating, killing his mistress and then said woman (Eviilynn) haunting Malle, including possessing her. Malle's father ended up being killed and replaced by a major boss, so while we didn't kill him ourselves, we killed what had looked like and been in the place of her father. Fucked up shit.

Her and her ghost ended up being involved in one of the pc's personal mini arcs. She's an android. Love Kiki <3

ANYWAY if we had not left her behind when we traveled to the Undertow I suspect I would've tried to make friends with her. She and Eddie are both very quiet people, and having someone else who gets that would probably be useful for both of them. Unfortunately I am also averse to talking to even fictional people. Its a condition.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

Hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision.

ᰔ pairing. babysitter/boxing au - underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). the kid’s mom gave gojo two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control over the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, smut, casual sex, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of crack, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, gojo is a sleazebag that cares?, sort of porn-coded smut except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught, gojo beats people up at night & then plays father figure to a 5 y/o during the day, mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood/cigarettes

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

a/n. hiiii friends jeez it feels like FOREVER since i've posted some good ol' smut (still has plot tho xd)...hopefully you enjoy n see ya at the bottom! lmk if i missed any warnings! if you asked to be tagged but didn’t get tagged it’s bc you have your tags off aaa :( even when some ppl tried to fix it i still couldn’t tag them i’m sorry!!

alsoooooo so very much love to @starmapz for beta reading this for me :”) really helped me w my posting nerves haha. she is also a wonderful jjk author pls go check out her works!! 💕 ART CREDITS: @/3-aem

➸ masterlist

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): heyy um i’m sorry if this comes off kinda rude i just am kinda bad with this but i was wondering if you could text my mom for questions about yuuji’s care instead of me?

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Oh 2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Yeah, sure

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sorry i know my mom doesn’t know much ab how to take care of him bc i was the one that took care of him for a while but i just really want to separate myself from that guardian role now that i’ve transferred to NYU yknow? :/ i think it’s not my place anymore. i just wanna be big sis now haha

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: I get it. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable with my texts

2:48pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): no no not uncomfy by it, thanks for looking after him. it’s just i’m kind of busy n stuff so it can be distracting 

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

2:52pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): and it was kind of an issue with his last babysitter

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

2:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeahhh like he would keep textinf me n stuff uhh kinda weird things… i told my mom about it and she was super pissed so she fired him

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

2:56pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah he was always “accidentally sexting me” n like he sent me a dick pic once sooooo yeah

2:56pm Gojo Satoru: Who tf 2:56pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll go beat him up

2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): oh no no its fine lol 2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): please dont beat anyone up 2:58pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i’m not saying you’re like him tho i just think maybe less texting unless its an emergency okay?

3:00pm Gojo Satoru: Are you sure because I will totally go beat him up for you

3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO I DONT WANT YOU TO BEAT ANYONE UP FOR ME 3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): also no offense but you dont look like you could beat someone up

3:01pm Gojo Satoru: WHAT 3:02pm Gojo Satoru: Tf you mean “no offense” that’s literally the most offensive thing you could say to a guy

3:04pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeaa i mean you have muscles ofc but in the ‘ohhh i wanna look good for instagram’ way and not like real man muscles yknow

3:06pm Gojo Satoru: Ok princess next time you visit home and go on one of your stupidly large grocery hauls I’ll make sure you carry all those groceries in by yourself 

3:06pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): I WAS JUST JOKING 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): YOURE SO STRONG TY FOR ALWAYS CARRYING THE GROCERIES INSIDE 3:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): PLEASE KEEP CARRYING MY GROCERIES INSIDE

3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Nah 3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Should we be texting right now? I’m not sensing any emergencies here

3:11pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): pls. my groceries :(

3:16pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll let the kiddo know you say hi 👋🏼 

The irony of it all was that, if Gojo really wanted to, he absolutely could beat the shit out of someone. And he has, hundreds of times, pseudo professionally. Although that isn’t something he’d admit to you, out of fear that you might relay that info back to your mom who would then become mortified that she’s entrusted her five-year-old son’s life to the hands of an underground boxer. 

But he needed the money. A night-time job didn’t really make daytime money, not when they could easily replace him with the next dude the second he gets knocked out of the ring more than twice, let alone if he let it happen once. And although he sometimes made large sums, it wasn’t stable income. He needed a back-up plan, and so babysitting it was. 

The babysitter working nights at unsanctioned dojos and gyms located in the back of cartel blocks, knocking teeth out of men twice his size, would put any decent mother into a coma or induce some episode of syncope, hence why it wasn’t something he put on his resume before he got hired. Not that he even needed to provide a resume; your mom seemed desperate to cover the position as fast as possible, that promotion at work was moving faster than she wanted to, and Gojo’s beneficial attribute that he possessed as a candidate to look after her son, compared to all the other potential hires, was that he had a penis.

He likes the kid. Yuuji. He’s got kind of a short attention span, and makes Gojo weary of his age. Hold up, that makes him sound like he’s geriatric, he’s really only the ripe old age of twenty-seven, but the immortality and infinite stamina that a five-year-old boy has on him is enough to have him huffing and puffing at the end of every single evening shift he takes on with the rascal. 

Fighting is all sprint, and no stamina. Sure, there might be some more seasoned boxers that might disagree with him, but for someone as young as him in the field, it’s the tactic he’s been forced to gain. If he draws a fight on for too long, he'll get killed by a forty-two year old man with steroids clogging up his adipose tissue and enough  testosterone to grow a full-body beard by the time the sun starts to set. No, his strategy is to knock them out within the first fifteen seconds. Use their weight against them, and whatnot. A tactic he’s found has worked, since he’s been undefeated thus far. 

He can never wrap his head around it. The drug lords that run the rings who’ve gained millions the night before from selling crystal meth only to lose it all the night following in the second Gojo hooklines a solid punch to their betting boxer’s chin, making them see God & their Momma before they tap out (if they’re even able).

He doesn’t pocket much money from it, not anything compared to what the men who bet on him end up making at least, but it’s a decently solid sum. How lucrative it really is depends solely on what he thinks the value of his life is.

It’s not unheard of, boxers dying in the ring. Turns out, rich drug dealers care very little about the sheep they’ve captured to perform their entertaining little stunts. But Gojo wasn’t doing all of this to feel some sense of work-life pride, no, it was just sustenance. When basic needs are not met, humans resort to the most animalistic of all behaviors, and while he’s not proud of what he does, he can’t deny the fact that it’s turned him into an adrenaline junkie that gets a rush in his veins every time he knocks a jaw loose.

But balance was key. And hence why he’s a boxer by night, babysitter by day. For at least four days a week, he gets to pretend he’s the king’s most trusted appointed knight, or he’s the radioactive tyrannosaurus rex that wants to tyrannize all the other dinosaurs, or maybe he’s the evil power ranger (he always forgets which color that one was) that is determined to make the world a living hell by smashing mr. potatohead against the bunk bed post a billion times for all the other toys to see. Or whatever other imaginative hyperfixations Yuuji imposes on him in the later afternoon once he’s had his bowl of spaghetti-O’s and is ready to play. Lately, the kid’s been really into space. They’ve got all sorts of space toys these days. Back in Gojo’s day, he just had a good ol’ Buzz Lightyear.

“One rule, that’s it: don’t accidentally kill my son. Actually, one more rule. Don’t flirt with my daughter.” 

There’s a part of Gojo that believes your mom kind of knows he’s up to shady shit at night, otherwise why else would she clause for him to not flirt with you if she didn’t read the slight swell to his eye and the healing gash across his cheek as anything other than this boy is trouble and I want him nowhere near my too-good-for-him daughter of reproductive capacity since that’s the exact tale of how I became a single mother in the first place. Or maybe he inherently looks like he’s up to no good? He’s not sure which angle is more offensive, and which one was more flattering. Well in any case, she entrusted Yuuji’s life to him, despite acknowledging the plausibility of harm, and that means she overall thinks positively of him, right? ……right?

The first night he met you, it was awkward to say the least. Gojo spends most of his nights performing deadly stunts for middle aged men with potbellies, and most of his days hanging out with a five-year-old (one who he’d argue is his only friend at this point). Sure, he’s got some people he sees occasionally back in his high school hometown when he can brave hearing about how everyone’s in college now or doing a masters or they’re working respectable nine-to-five day jobs meanwhile he has to lie to his Pops that he’s been working in insurance for the past two years. Listen, in fairness, he probably makes the same amount of money as an insurance broker would anyways, but he can’t exactly own up to the identity of his craft. 

Anyways, the point is, he’s not used to seeing other people his age anymore. There’s the occasional hook-up with girls he hasn’t seen since Mrs. Tracy’s homeroom period back in sweet two-thousand-sixteen, or his twice-a-year hangout with Suguru where he only learns the day of where he's visiting from since the guy moves around more than Gojo can keep up with. But save for that, he mostly just sees your mom and then Yuuji. 

So seeing you standing in the kitchen for the first time when he went to put Yuuji’s half-finished GoGurt back in the fridge was startling to say the least. When the sight of a woman startled him, he knew he needed to start getting out again.

You were on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab at something over the fridge, and wearing these ridiculously short shorts to where he could see the curve of your ass, his line of sight trailing down the skin of your bare legs. He couldn’t see anything of your form above your shorts, given you were wearing an extremely baggy t-shirt with NYU on it in big bolded university letters. As far as he knew, you were a senior at NYU, studying psychology, made dean’s list consecutively for the past three years given the way your mother posted all your stellar transcripts up on the fridge (he gets that she’s proud of her daughter, but doesn’t that kind of stuff usually end in grade school?) But other than that, it was all the information he had on you.

“Here,” he said, pressing his front to your back, maybe just to get a feel, as he reached over to you to finally grab the box of cereal you were swatting for, the one that he purposefully placed at the back because Yuuji learned how to climb counters recently. “Is this what you want?”

He had heard you gasp, spinning around on your heel fast, staring up at him with wide eyes like you weren’t expecting some random man to be in the house right now, and your first instinct ended up being to grab the knife out of the kitchen knife block and lunge it straight at his torso.

If it wasn’t for his boxer reflexes, he’d have ended up at the ER that evening. Or dead. All depending on the strength you could pack into a stab. But instead, he deflected it, though not without a gash to his torso through the fabric of his shirt, one that you spent the rest of the evening profusely apologizing for and eventually mending to with cotton balls and neosporin. 

“I didn’t know you were my little brother’s babysitter,” you mumbled with a small wince on your face as you dabbed ointment on the wound while he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his shoulder. He’s never had an injury tended to before. It was nice.

“It’s fine, I get it, totally acceptable response to seeing a random dude in your house.”

He remembers the curl of your eyelashes while you stared down at his bare upper half, something he imprinted on his memory rather than the concern in your face as your fingertips traced the scars across his chest. He hoped they made you feel better about the one you just slashed into him, because after all, what was one more? 

He knows he shouldn’t have, but he kissed you that night. Two minutes before your mom came home, and right after you bid him goodnight with one more apology, he backed you up against the door of your bedroom, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him, and his lips pressed against yours. Something seamless, from candid conversation that was heading towards an end, to full fledged making out against white-painted wood, his teeth nipping at your lip and he wondered just how touch-starved those university boys were leaving you given the desperate way you’d clinged to his shirt for dear life as he deepened the kiss.

The moment only lasted one minute and fifty-seven seconds, and in the remaining three, your mother’s key pushed into the front door and he had to pull away. Always, on the dot, 10PM, she was home. It was how he knew he had two minutes left to make a move in the first place.

So much for no flirting.

6:57pm Gojo Satoru: Bahahah I accidentally forgot where yuuji’s epipen is 6:58pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 6:59pm Gojo Satoru: Turns out this can-o-soup was just covering it in the cabinet

7:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): ??? why did you need to find his epipen

7:08pm Gojo Satoru: Oh he accidentally took a bite of my pad thai 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: I freaked cuz I thought it had peanuts in it but I remember I asked for it without any  7:09pm Gojo Satoru: shit’s crazy

7:10pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TEXT ME????????

7:12pm Gojo Satoru: YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT ME TEXTING YOU UNLESS IT WAS AN EMERGENCY ?

7:13pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): SATORU YOU THOGHT HE ATE SOMETHING W PEANUTS IN IT AND YOU FORGOT WHERE HIS EPIPEN WAS THATSS A FUCKIGN EMERGENCY

7:15pm Gojo Satoru: THE KID IS DOING FINE HES ALIVE JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: See. he’s chill 7:17pm Gojo Satoru: with intact airways might I add 7:18pm Gojo Satoru: Also isn’t he a little too old to still be watching baby sensory videos?

7:20pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah my mom thinks he has adhd :(

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

He tried to keep his word though (although he doesn’t recall ever giving it) out of the respect he had for your mom. She was a hard-working lady, single mom of two who went from working three jobs to now being a major administrator at a big law firm near the outskirts of town. It was an underdog story if he’d ever heard one, and he loved an underdog story. 

But a little texting here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? Or so he thought, until you told him to cut it out with the contact. Maybe you were just trying to be the good one in this situation. After all, hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision. Still, he’ll eventually get your replies to his which shirt should Yuuji wear to the park? and look, the toothfairy gave him the butt of a joint and a couple thumbtacks for his front tooth. he’s ecstatic texts, although in a less timely manner than before when you weren’t trying to preserve propriety. And when you’d occasionally visit every other weekend, he’d do his best to keep his hands in his pockets, and you’d fill up your nights with hangouts with your hometown friends to avoid spending too much time with him at the house. A silent agreement to not fuck each other, it was. 

4:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): send pic of yuuji pls i miss him :(

5:04pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo]

5:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): IS THAT BLOOD?!?!?!?!

5:09pm Gojo Satoru: chillllllll it’s fake. We’re working on his halloween costume

5:09pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY DOES IT HAVE BLOOD?!?!?!?!?!?

5:10pm Gojo Satoru: He wants to be a baby xenomorph and I'm his parasitic host. You know that iconic chestburster scene from the old school alien movies? yeah

5:12pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): satoru please for the love of god just dress him up as a dinosaur or something

5:13pm Gojo Satoru: I’m not the one that came up with the idea, okay? It was him

5:14pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): because you let him watch adult swim with you before putting him to bed. you’ve deranged his brain.

5:14pm Gojo Satoru: He needs it. Builds character.

Gojo was living a double life, and if someone asked him, he’d say it was less of a Clark Kent way and more of a Bruce Wayne way, although in reality, he knows it’s close to neither. He’s no superhero with a concealed identity fighting crime, he’s a con artist that’s tricked a hard-working woman into hiring him just because he’s trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this godforsaken town, given he’s not knocked dead before then for the crime’s amusement.

But Yuuji looks up to him now. And Gojo’s grown attached to him too. He taught the kid how to tie his own shoes and piss inside the actual toilet like a real man. And that kid’s the only thing that’s made him question any of this. Maybe that’s what dads feel, suddenly held to all this impossible responsibility and the pressure to stop doing stupid shit so that you’ll stick around to see your kids get older. The thought that there are eyes on you now, eyes that are innocent and hopeful and learning, and because they know nothing at all, you feel the responsibility to protect them from everything. For fucks sake, remind him to never become a dad. 

“Do you like my sister?” Yuuji had asked him out of nowhere one afternoon after he just got home from preschool, stacking a blue cube over a yellow one at the dining table.

“Uhh,” Gojo starts. He wondered if your mom had put a wire on the kid, so his answer was as diplomatic as he could manage. “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ve got a cool sister.”

“But. But.” Yuuji stutters, trying to find his big boy words. He stretches up higher to reach the top of his stack of blocks, but he only has so much arm real estate at the age of five. “Do you like her like you wanna kiss her?”

Gojo grabs the block from the kid’s hand, for a moment questioning Yuuji’s decision to want to put a blue block over another blue block, but he figures aesthetics are the least of a kid’s concern, and so he places the block where Yuuji wanted it. 

Why does the kid know what kissing is anyway? Do kids know that kind of stuff at that age? Isn’t a kiss to a five-year-old just something their mom gives to them before they head off to preschool for the day? And not something that happens between adult men and women? Maybe he should stop watching that adult swim in front of him.

“No. I don’t want to kiss your sister,” he says, again, because he is suspicious of a wire. It was a lie and then some, because he wants to do a lot more than just kiss you.

Gojo lifts the RedBull he was nursing up to his lips and watches Yuuji in the corner of his eye as the kid stares at his growing stack of blocks with a concentrated expression on his face, his chubby fingers squeezing tightly into little round dimpled balls, like he’s putting together all his tiny brain cells together to form another coherent thought before turning to face Gojo on the chair.

“It’s ok. You can kiss her if you wan’ed to. You can marry her too,” Yuuji says.

Gojo almost spits out his RedBull. He barely manages to swallow it, a broken cough immediately leaving his throat when some of the liquid goes down the wrong pipe and he’s smacking a fist against his chest to knock the sanity back into himself.

“Where the fu—…where the flip did that come from?” he asks, blinking back tears from the rasp in his throat.

Yuuji’s small shoulders sulk as he sits back on his heels. “I want a papa.”

Oh fuck that hurt. Jesus christ, there was nothing more sad than that. Yuuji has literally never known what it’s like to have a dad, since his had left before he was even born. Gojo’s not really close to his old man by any means, but he had still been a fatherly figure in some pivotal moments when he had needed it growing up. Kids need their dads. And he’s seen enough people lose their way without one to know that the value of them is really underestimated.

He’s also kind of shocked that Yuuji really did think of you as his motherly figure. Maybe since it had always just been him and his dad, Gojo learned how to self sustain from a young age, and he and his dad became accustomed to just looking after their own interests to avoid the headache of tending to one another. My land is my land, and your land is yours, and there was the occasional Saturday night spent together with his dad’s millions of beer bottles emptied dry on the carpet in front of the 1992 box TV as the two shared a greasy pizza from the place down the street. That was the extent of family solidarity that he knew.

But he can’t imagine being barely eighteen and having to take care of your little brother all by yourself because your mom was too busy trying to put food on the table and was too poor to hire a babysitter. Your mom tried so damn hard to keep you away from the single teenage mother life, but somehow ended up giving it to you by proxy in the end anyway. It was no wonder you wanted space now that Yuuji’s a little older and your mom can afford a babysitter. No matter how much you might love your sibling, being their effective guardian out of pure necessity had to have taken a toll.

Gojo clears his throat before he speaks. “Buddy. If I married your sister, we’d be brothers. I wouldn’t be your dad.” 

Yuuji’s eyes light up at the word brother. “Brothers? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Bros.”

The kid giggles, all bubbly with cheeks rounding fully and eyes sparkling. Gojo reaches out to ruffle at his hair before Yuuji gets down onto one stubby leg at a time from the chair then bolts towards the kitchen.

“Juice!!” he yells somewhere around the corner out of sight.

Gojo sighs, staring at all the toys he pulled out for Yuuji to play with, all left in a scattered mess across the table. He gets up out of his chair and heads towards the fridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you your juice, you little demon.”

The conclusion he comes to, and it might read like an obvious one, is that kids don’t really know the reality of life, hence why adults hide so much from them. 

This is what he thinks of tonight when he wraps his worn out boxing tape around his hands and his wrist, tightening it with his teeth, and he can smell the sweat and grime from them. The back of the underground gym had an old dated locker room, and as Gojo stretches his neck side to side while sitting on the stiff metal bench, he eyes the peeling red paint of the locker in front of him, blurring vision making it look like spilt blood. 

His phone pings with a text. He shuffles inside his duffle bag to look for it while his other hand scratches at his bare chest.

1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): omgomgomg sor y i’m 

He blinks at the screen, confusion flashing across his face. He types one letter, but then he sees three dots and a speech text bubble in the bottom left, so he waits for you.

1:09am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i drunk :(

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

1:10am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): at a apartyyyy

His eyebrows raise slightly, the thought of you tipsy on some frat party couch flashing through his mind, yet of all things you could be doing at that frat party, you’re texting him? Must be a really boring party.

1:11am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): whyyy are you aawake?

1:12am Gojo Satoru: Couldn’t sleep 1:12am Gojo Satoru: Don’t you have a midterm in the morning?

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): wtf hwo do you knwo that

1:15am Gojo Satoru: Your mom keeps your schedule posted on the fridge

1:15am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): im so fucked;’;(((

He snorts. He’s got a bit more life experience than you, five-ish years to be exact, more than enough time to master the no-hangover hangout, but just before he can offer you some advice, he sees another text from you. 

1:16am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): can i tell u smething 

His gaze flits up to the ceiling briefly, and he hears commotion outside the thick walls of the locker room. The previous fight was over, and fast. The guy must’ve been knocked out in under twenty seconds tops, which means that Gojo was next up against whatever superbeast just beat him up. 

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

He stands up, placing his phone down on the bench before he flexes the muscles in his arms a couple times to get the blood flowing into them. And there’s the noise of another ping. Actually, four.

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sonetimes 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i thikn of  1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): when u kisse me 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): *kissed me

His eyes widen slightly, irises dry to the ashy cigarette smoke from outside lingering in the air, and his heart rate picks up a bit. An adrenaline junkie with close to no fear in his veins due to the way his amygdala’s been fried to a crisp from years of boxing, yet he’s got his breath hitched from the memory of your soft lips against his. It makes the blood rushing through the muscles of his arms rush somewhere down south instead.

Loud banging on the door of the locker room jolts him out of his trance, and he’s stiff around the edges once more.

“Satoru! You’re up, man,” he hears Danny, the fight coordinator, yell at him from the other side of the heavy & poorly-installed steel door.

Gojo sighs, glancing down at the texts on his phone. To respond, or not to respond. You’re off your face, clearly chatty from the alcohol, and he knows for certain you’ll regret every life decision you’ve ever made once you wake up in the morning and see the self sabotaging behaviors you’ve engaged in tonight. He knows that responding to you might put you at ease rather than straight up ignoring you, but the feeling will pass, and he has a match to win with no more room left to stall.

He makes his way out the locker room, pushing past the crowded halls of people underneath dim flashing club lighting, some dudes angrily jerking to face him when he pushes past them with a stiff shoulder, only for their eyes to widen when they see just exactly who pushed them. 

There’s strippers in the ring, doing some routine for pre-match, and Gojo narrows his eyes at the man he sees laying back over the rubber boundary rope, head tipped back up to the ceiling with a wicked grin on his face. So that was his opponent? He’s never seen the guy before. Was he from a different district? Different district talent was tough, you had no background info on them, while they’ve been preparing to be here for weeks. Hence why boxers tend to do better when they visit a different district than they do in their own. There have been rules made to limit these types of fights, mostly over outrage that it was unfair to bid on them, but they were also usually more entertaining to watch. Gojo’s got a sick feeling to his stomach as the strippers clear the ring.

“Hey,” Gojo calls out, grabbing Danny by the back of his collar and dragging him towards him and away from the girls stepping down onto the floor, “what’s in for this fight?”

Danny glances up at the ceiling. “Tarp’s bettin’ tonight, so it can’t be anything less than ten grand for you. I’d say tops fifteen?”

Gojo narrows his eyes further, then glances off into the ring again. The man stands up, and Gojo gets a better look on his face. He’s got short hair, neon green in color with a dark fade underneath and tattoos all over his face. But those eyes. They were freakishingly red, and it made him uneasy. He knows the type. The type of boxers that do this to genuinely hurt people for thrill. Make no mistake, Gojo understands he’s made himself out to be like that too, gaining some kind of rush out of this profession, but this type of fighter was different. The type to literally continue smashing a dude’s face into the floor until they’re a bloody mess even minutes after the winning call, and no referee to stop it because that’s the kind of action the spectators wanted.

Danny reads his line of sight. “That’s Gale. Newton’s new boxing toy. Came outta nowhere about a month ago. He’s undefeated so far in his district, and Newton specifically wanted to see you up against him tonight,” Danny tells Gojo, resting his elbow up on his bare shoulder. “Chances are he’ll compete with Tarp for final bid if you win this one. I’m talking twenty-five grand in the next if you can knock him out in this.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo acknowledges, rolling his shoulder so Danny’s elbow falls from it. Forget the money, he just wants to make it out of this alive.

He sets his foot up on the square, ducking through the dividing boundary straps and the tacky caution construction tape that the gym thinks creates an exciting ambience. He hears the static of the speakers as the announcers call out Gojo’s name, then this other guy, loud bass club music booming through Gojo’s chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths through the thick air of this low-ceiling arena. 

The dim overhead lights flickered, casting shadows over the makeshift ring, and the crowd pressed tight around at every perimeter area, yelling and pushing, one even tosses a beer bottle on the square and it shatters, spreading glass all across, a few shards reaching Gojo’s feet and he looks down at them with a shudder. A fight immediately breaks out in the crowd over something related or possibly entirely unrelated, and he’d have no way of knowing as he swipes the shards away with his heel.

The influential men always sat up on higher seating, off towards the back in their own VIP section where they suck in the smoke of fat cigarettes and peer through 100% tinted sunglasses to assess the boxers they’ve bid thousands on. The light reflects off the golden grills of their teeth with every snarl at any passerby that gets too close, like a lion in its den. That’s what the sanction was called. Lion’s den.

Gojo sighed, eyeing the twisted grin of this Gale guy across from him. Was that his real name? Usually, foreign district guys get nicknames. Gojo’s always thought the nicknames were tacky, and he’s accumulated some of his own over the years, but to his ears, none of them ever really landed, although The White Fox admittedly was kinda nice. Reminded him of throwback shooting games. 

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, holding his hands up in front of his chest in weak fists, storing energy in them in the form of pure anticipation alone, and then the bell rang.

His opponent lunged towards him immediately, fists flying in a barrage of reckless strikes, and Gojo’s eyes momentarily widened in the briefest moments of hesitation he had been allowed before ducking and dodging every one of this guy's shots, then jumping a step back to create distance.

Fuck. He was fast. Not just boxer fast, athlete fast. There was a difference. And it wasn’t a good one to be up against.

Gojo picked up light on his feet. He couldn’t win this one fast, that much was certain. One single careless or reckless move, and he’ll get tackled. He knows that by the malicious look he sees on that guy’s face, grin wide like he’s some cannibalistic beast. 

Stepping back towards the center, Gojo purposefully set himself up for Gale to swipe a vicious hook towards his head, before Gojo last minute ducked down, crouched to the floor, and swung his leg out to knock the guy off balance by his ankles, and he falls onto his back with a loud thud!

There’s a moment of momentary silence from the crowd, right before Gojo put the man in a torso-lock, twisting him in a way a human body should absolutely not be twisted, hearing the grunts of pain and the crack of spine even through the shouts of the crowd.

He can hear it. Kill him! Knock his fucking teeth out! Snap his neck like a goose, man! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM!

He feels like throwing up. 

Gojo looks up at the referee, who wasn’t really a referee, just there to run the clock when there was action and only barely stop it before near death. “This is enough, right?” he asks.

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

Gojo lets go of his opponent, leaving him there to heave for a moment before he gets up onto his feet again. Just needs one more, and he’s a winner. Ten grand in his pocket, and he won’t have to come back here for a couple weeks.

Gale gets up, swiping at the spit that had trickled out the corner of his mouth down to his chin, and he had an enraged look on his face. The second the bell rang for the second round, he exploded forward towards Gojo with even more fervor than before, gritted expression with a thirst for violence fueling the storm of punches he was throwing towards Gojo but he tried to remain calm, light on his feet, swiftly duck and avoid before he can find another opportunity to clear a sharp, clean jab right to the ribs—

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

Gojo misses his strike, leaving his guard wide open, and Gale takes the opportunity to land a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending his mouth guard flying straight out of his mouth into the air, and knocking him backwards onto the ground with a thud and then he finds himself staring up at the rusting metal ceiling and a ringing in his ears that almost matches the roar of the crowd.

His head is in a haze, dizzy like where one second could feel like a millennia. He feels a soreness underneath his chin, a pain that radiates to his mouth, and he briefly swipes his tongue over his front teeth to make sure he still has all of them. 

What the fuck was that? That intrusive thought. There’s no intrusive thoughts allowed in life or death situations, not when he was always just one smash to the head away from a permanent concussion. But, fuck, he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking of you. Even when his vision has gone blurry and he should really be weary about what happens next in this ring, his mind’s just thinking about you, at some frat party, tipping back shots of tequila and waiting for a text-back in response to your tipsy ones. Were you even waiting up on him? Have you already passed out on the couch, or were your friends dragging you back to your dorm? Or are you fucking some other dude right now? Has he got his hand up your top, squeezing at you, sleazily feeling you up before spilling beer all down your shirt, and are you kissing him back with the same enthusiasm, your phone now somewhere long slipped between the cushions of the couch and out of sight?

Even though it’s still sore, he tenses his jaw. Grinds his teeth, even. Tasting blood somewhere along the line of his gums, he realizes his lip is split. He licks at it, the flavor of copper more rich on his tongue, and he clenches his fists tightly. Why’s he thinking of that right now? It just pisses him off, the thought of you with some other dude. Maybe that’s what he needs to win this fight. Spite. Although he’s not sure why the guy across from him at the ring has to pay for it.

He lifts his head up off the ground, and while it felt like years he had been down, a glance at the timer tells him it’s only been a solid four seconds. A solid four seconds that his opponent had to fully charge a lunge towards him with the look of death in his face, raising his elbow up into the air in time with his leap, ready to come straight down, and Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight above him from where he’s still lying on the wood.

“Shit—” he cusses, rolling his body over to the side so that the dude falls straight down onto the floor rather than elbow Gojo in the fucking ribs, and then he gets back up on his feet. 

Stakes were high, he has to end this, he has to end this now, and he flexes the muscle in his right bicep, channeling everything he has into this one blow, and before Gale even really has a chance to turn around and face him again, Gojo’s already three-fourths set up a knockout undercut that he drives straight up the guy’s chin, with so much force it has him lifting up off the floor, a vertebrate stretch to his spine before he’s sent flying backwards and slammed against the tight rubber lining of the ring to where he was half hanging over it.

The room fell silent for a split second, then erupted in a roar as the referee fell to one knee beside Gale, checking him for any semblance of consciousness, and when he found none, he waves the match off. 

Gojo’s eyes flit up towards the lion’s den, the only opinions that he really needed to care about were sitting in those mahogany chairs with glasses of scotch swirling around in their hands, and he sees some of them looking straight at Gojo before leaning towards one another and discretely talking about something he can’t make out because he doesn’t know how to read lips.

He feels someone tug at his arms from behind, pulling him to crouch down and he balances back on the balls of his feet. He glances down through the ring at the floor. Danny was leaning against the wooden surface of it. “Dude. Go.” He jerks his head towards Gale, who still laid there sprawled across the now stretched out rubber perimeter bands. “Go fuck him up. Knock a few more teeth out, I don’t know, get some more blood out of him.”

“What?” Gojo huffs, yanking his arm away from Danny’s grip. “The fuck are you saying?”

“I told you, man, Newton’s here and he’s got his eye on you. Go give him a show,” Danny says, “do it.” And when he sees clear frustration on Gojo’s face he sighs. “Twenty-five grand, consider that, will you?”

Gojo sneers at the man, an awful taste in his mouth as he spits blood towards Danny’s feet. “Go fuck yourself on his cock if he wants a show that bad.” And then he ducks underneath the bands and hops back down onto the floor, pushing past people who were trying to grab at him and pull at him and lift him up and even throw him down until he made it through flashing hallways and back to the locker room.

He shuts the door behind him, sliding the bolt lock into the frame so no one can follow him inside, and then he leans his weight back against the chilling steel before tipping his head back until it hits the surface too.

He lets out of a few deep breaths, then stares down at the sting he finds over his knuckles. Red and blistering from the last punch he delivered, and he’s almost certain he broke a bone in his hand. Fuck. It was bleeding across the cuts, too. He had to figure out a way to get it all healed by tomorrow, as if that was humanly possible, just because he doesn’t want Yuuji questioning him about it.

Yuuji. For fucks sake, when has he ever thought about the kid this much? When has he ever thought about much of anything when he’s out here or in the ring? He’s a babysitter by day. He’s a “part” of your family when the sun is up and normal functioning society is breathing their lives into the clean air. That’s it. He’s no five-year-old’s caretaker in front of all these primetime drug lords, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of you when facing big, burly men he’s aiming to rough up, all within the dead hours of night. So then how come these thoughts are on his mind at all times, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?

He heads further into the locker room, glancing down at the bench where he’d left his phone, then picks it up, neck craned all the way down to glance at the screen as he holds his phone by his hip because he doesn’t have any energy to pick it up any further towards his eyesight. 

He sees your messages. You never sent any follow-up ones, just your horrendously typed out sonetimes, i thikn of when u kisse me *kissed me across the span of four texts, and Gojo runs a tired hand down his face.

He tips his head back to groan at the ceiling, guttural with no basis other than a release of all the pent up frustration of every sort, then he types in a couple messages to you,

3:23am Gojo Satoru: That’s nice 3:24am Gojo Satoru: I think about fucking you all the time 

—and then tosses his phone into his duffel bag to call it a night.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You’re awoken to your alarm blaring heavily, and you whack your arm across your nightstand table beside your tiny twin-size bed to hit the snooze button, then rub your eye with a loose fist while smacking at the residual taste of alcohol you have on your tongue. 

“Mm…” you mumble to yourself. And then the thirst hits you. The overwhelming, intense, unquenchable thirst that leaves your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert before you grab your twice-dented Hydroflask from the nightstand, twist the cap off and chug about twenty ounces of water in one breath. 

You let out a deep exhale and fall back into bed, your hand resting on top of your water-filled tummy, and you stare up at the ceiling of your dorm. 

Last night was horrible. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to that frat party, especially given you have an exam in—you checked the time on your phone—about an hour, and an hour was not enough time to recover from the raging hangover headache that’s pounding through your head. But your roommates insisted you went, and so go you did. You never knew what to expect, always torn between shaving your pussy before you go or throwing on a stained pair of sweatpants to keep the guys away instead. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. But last night, you ended up drinking more than you usually do, and that always led to poor, poor, poor decisions, in which all the sense of pride you had in yourself was washed down with the puke that you hurled into the upstairs toilet. 

You grab at your phone again, briefly seeing that your friends had sent you some photos from the night. You immediately swiped off to the side to dismiss the notifications, because as far as you were concerned, you never wanted to see those photos in your life.

And then, in the briefest of moments, you saw a familiar name in your notifications that made you heart skip a beat.

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

With an immediate gasp, you pulled your phone to your chest and held it there, blinking up at the pale yellow ceiling, your heart picking up in rhythm.

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

Mortified was an understatement, possibly because you don’t even remember what you said, and so you don’t even want to see what he replied with.

You groan, rubbing both your hands across your face then kick your sheets back with your feet like a child having a temper tantrum because you were so embarrassed you had even texted him at all last night. I mean, he was hot. A little older than you, really gorgeous eyes, tall, and, yeah, you gave him shit for the Instagram muscles thing, but that’s only because you thought he’d find it cheeky that you were trying to humble him despite the fact that he’s more toned and ruggedly sculpted than any other man you’ve ever met. You didn’t want to have a flustered schoolgirl attitude because it would just seep through to his ego.

In any case, he was hot, there was no denying it, so can you really blame yourself? But still. There was collateral with this. You had to see him every other weekend. He knows your family, even your extended since they invited him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple weeks ago. A high-risque drunk text recipient if he ever was one (of course he has been, look at that face). Why couldn’t you have just drunk texted ECON160 guy from last semester who Clit DJ’d you underneath your desk at the back of the lecture hall instead?

The thing that made you nervous about Gojo Satoru was that he was just so…confident? Like, in that I was raised to be this way confident and not that I fought inner demons my whole life to barely end up this way confident, y’know? Never had to fake it ‘til he made it, he just was. At least that was the kind of energy you got from him, and unfortunately for you, it was nerve wracking but enticing all at the same time.

You sigh. “Stupid. Stupid. Stuuuuuupiiiiidddddddddddd. You. Are. So. Stuuuuuupiiiiddddddd,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair to grip at the strands.

You pull your phone away from your chest, and finally brave yourself to read the texts from your notifications screen, but not without blurring your vision a little to further stall. And then you finally refocus it to read them. The first one you see has you gasping—

3:24am Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter): I think about fucking you all the time 

It has heat spreading across your cheeks, and you blink at your screen, then quickly swipe up to read the previous messages with rushed glides of your index finger on the screen to see that he had sent it to you in response to your barely coherent texts about how you still so often think about that time he randomly pressed you up against the door of your bedroom to kiss you that night you first met him.

I think about fucking you all the time

At 3 in the morning? He decided to send that text at 3 in the fucking morning? That was the devil’s hour. What’s he trying to tell you? 

Oh come on, you’re not stupid. And you know he isn’t either. The sexual tension was palpable, it was there since the day you two met and you almost stabbed him, and also everytime you were visiting the house, and his shoulder brushes against yours when he’s trying to get past you in the kitchen, or when you’ve got Yuuji in your arms and the kid is clinging to Gojo’s sleeve because he wants him near him at all times. There’s even sexual tension over the phone, in those stupid texts he sends you all the time about meaningless child care stuff, and honestly, those little updates made your day.

But… you don’t know much about him, and your mom would kill you if she ever found out you wanted him. And she’d probably pulverize him if she found out he ever made a move on you. Cremated without leaving a trace behind would be an understatement. She thinks he’s no good and she thinks you’re too good. You know she’s warned him before to not get close to you, as if she was pre-emptively expecting him to try to get in your pants like it was some canon force of the universe, hence why he’s probably so fucking awkward around you whenever she’s there too. Like if he accidentally got caught staring at your ankles, your mom would light him on fire, so he’d rather not risk it by just avoiding looking at you at all.

Your mom has always been protective of you. Your father was a deadbeat, one she thought she loved, only to watch him leave. And she had to raise a baby all by herself. He re-entered your lives right before you graduated high school, knocked up your mom again with Yuuji, and guess what? Left again without a trace. To be doubly humiliated by a man is a fate you wouldn’t wish on any woman, but that’s exactly what your mom went through. It was a wake-up call for her, though. No more living paycheck to paycheck like you had been your whole lives up until Yuuji was born. The kid doesn’t even know how lucky he is with everything he has right now. Your mom worked her way up the corporate ladder and made something of herself and now you guys were comfortable, so it was safe to say she had some sort of right to look after her daughter, of whom she simply doesn’t want to follow in the same naive footsteps of her youth.

You get it. She wants to break the generational cycle. But it made being with men tough on all fronts, let alone dating. You could never bring a guy home because he’d never be enough, even if he cured cancer or could make you orgasm while doing a sixty-nine handstand. And while her overbearing paranoia over what you do or where you are or who you’re with has since dimmed slightly since you officially moved out to finish your last year of higher education at NYU, you can still feel her disappointment from a hundred miles away when you’re making out with some random frat guy on his beer-stained couch at eleven AM on a Tuesday.

But you got to college. You’ve already made it this far. You’re on dean’s list. You graduated high school as salutatorian. You’re the most highly decorated cello player in the state. You won Miss County pageant when you were sixteen for your philanthropic efforts towards feline leukemia. You did online community college for three years so you could stick back after high school and help your mom raise Yuuji, which meant that you had to forfeit your scholarship to Cornell. You’ve spent your whole life being good, you just wanna be bad for a little bit.

And if bad meant fucking the hot and mysterious babysitter, then so be it. 

You pick your phone up, begin blasting what the hell by Avril Lavigne on your dorm room bluetooth speaker, then type a message to him that says—

10:34am you: do it then

—then shove your phone under the sheets and belt out the lyrics aaaall my life i’ve been good, but now, ahhhh i’m thinkin’ what the hell!!! while kicking your feet and clutching your pillow.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gojo has no clue what divine entity has overcast their gratuitous spirit over him on this blessed Monday afternoon, but he’ll thank them for it later once his balls are empty. 

He’s got you on your back, sprawled across the couch in the living room, the first fuck being a rushed one that you offered him with before he has to go pick Yuuji up from circle time at preschool, which wasn’t ideal, but he’s delirious at the sight of you underneath him right now. Your little NYU shirt, a tighter one this time, bunched up over your bare breasts, otherwise entirely naked other than the flimsy panties dangling at your ankle, and the view of the tip of his cock looking hot and heavy against the velvet of your cunt, slowly pushing in, feeling the warmth of your walls squeeze around him paired with the sweet moan that leaves your lips, makes him fall forward with a bracing hand dug into the cushion by the side of your head because the sensation feels so fucking good he can hardly keep himself upright.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pushing himself in further to try and bottom out but he’s still got a couple inches he needs you to take, and so you curl your hips upwards towards the cieling to make more room for him, practically putting yourself into a mating press and soon enough he’s balls deep, “you on any birth control?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, eyes closed and head tipped back with one hand squeezing your own tit.

“I can cum inside then, yeah?” he asks you, pushing your knees to your chest, slowly drawing his hips back and you squirm underneath him.

“Let’s get there first, and then we’ll discuss,” you breathe out.

“I’ve been there for the past ten minutes, baby. I could cum at any second with the way you look and feel,” he informs you flatly, because it was just the truth and you had to know it, then he feels himself twitch inside, slowly working up to a languid rhythm, almost fearfully like your mom’s going to pop out somewhere around the corner with a camera crew ready like one of those retro TV shows just to humiliate him on national television for not keeping it in his pants like she’d told him to. 

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue. 

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you. 

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.” 

“I see,” your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough. 

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad. 

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you. 

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest. 

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.   

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him. 

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking. 

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

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[harrysfolklore]

little bitch - cs55

summary: yn piastri and carlos sainz absolutely hate each other. carlos thinks she’s immature, yn calls him a little bitch on social media. they also kiss every now and then. PART TWO

word count: over 10k + social media posts

folkie radio: guys this fic is my baby okay 🥲🥲 please take care of it i spent like two weeks writing it. FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED !!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

2023 SEASON

TWITTER

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liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 87,635 others

ynpiastri that’s my optimistic little brother cry about it 😚 see y’all after the break

view all 1,207 comments

username1 LAJSIA SO MESSY

username2 yn really said you will NAWT mess with my little brother

lilyzneimer Love you forever 😂

↳ ynpiastri ilysm

username3 the sainz - piastri drama just spiced this season up

mclaren That’s our boy 🧡

username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri fighting on the internet and oscar is just 🧍

username5 the fact that daniel ricciardo and pierre gasly liked yn’s tweet too 😭

landonorris Stop fighting people on the internet please

↳username1 HELP HIS BESTIES ARE FIGHTING

↳ ynpiastri never 😤

oscarpiastri When nobody got me I know my messy sister got me

↳ username2 I LOVE THEM SM

↳ yourinstagram HE SAID NO PICKLES !!

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"You didn't have to tweet that," Oscar said, giving you a look from his seat.

You were currently traveling from Belgium to Monaco in McLaren's private jet after the race weekend, and the main topic of the day was your little message to Carlos Sainz after his statement about your brother.

"Osc, he's being a petty bitch," you shrugged, "He keeps blaming you for what happened on the track and we all know it was his fault."

"Lando, can you help me out please?" Oscar looked at his teammate, who was immersed on his phone as a way to avoid the conversation.

"Oh no, don't put me in the middle of this," Lando shook his head, "I have enough PR issues myself."

"We know you're siding with your bestie anyways," you said, making him roll his eyes.

This dynamic was nothing new. Lando and Carlos Sainz were best friends, and so were Lando and you. The issue? You couldn't stand Carlos at all, and Lando was always in the middle of your bickering.

Oscar sighed, rubbing his temples as he glanced out of the window. "Look, I appreciate you standing up for me, but sometimes it's better to let things slide. Engaging with him on social media only adds fuel to the fire."

He had a point. Deep down you knew it, however, your were short tempered and protective towards your loved ones, so it was natural that you took the chance to come for Sainz's neck when he gave you a reason to.

"I get it, Osc. I just can't stand seeing him drag your name through the mud when you're not even at fault," you stressed, "You're my little brother, I'll always get protective, you know?"

"I know, and I appreciate you having my back," Oscar said, softening his tone. "But it's not worth it. Like you said, I'm not engaging with whatever he's saying so there's no point of starting stuff."

"He started it, I'm just finishing it," you shrugged, and Oscar gave you a pointed look, you were older than him, but he was definitely more mature than you. "Fine, I'll try to hold back next time," you sighed, leaning back in your seat.

Lando finally looked up from his phone, a smirk on his face. "See, that wasn't too hard, was it? Now, can we all be friends?"

"If that includes Sainz then no, we can't,"

You could never be friends with Carlos Sainz. That was literally impossible.

For starters, you were pretty sure he didn't even know your name, he was always too full of himself to even acknowledge those around him.

And lastly, he was a bitch to your brother on and off track.

"I just, I would really like for you two to get along," Lando said and you immediately rolled your eyes at his words, "You're both important to me, and it sucks being caught in the middle. Plus I don't even understand why do you dislike him so much."

You knew the real reason why you disliked him so much, you perfectly did. However, that was a subject that you decided to ignore every single time.

"Honestly? I find him arrogant. He always acts like he's the center of the universe. He never takes responsibility for his actions and always tries to shift the blame onto others. It's frustrating to watch."

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, but you have to understand, Carlos is actually a good guy once you get to know him. He's passionate and competitive, sure, but he's also loyal and a great friend."

"I get that he's like your hero or something," you teased, "But it's not going to happen, Lando. I don't think I'll ever like Carlos, and I really wish you’d stop pushing the subject."

"Look, you don't have to be his best friend or something," Oscar intervened, "Just promise me you won't punch him when you see him in the paddock after the summer break."

"No promises."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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ynpiastri a weekend in monaco with some of my favorite people 🤍 back to race cars soooon (love being a nepo sister)

tagged: oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris

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username1 SLAAAY

username2 ahhhh lily x oscar content thank u yn

francisca.cgomes having major fomo rn, love you all babies 🥲

↳ ynpiastri get over hereeeee

username3 she has the dream life

charles_leclerc Stop stealing my girlfriend from me thank you

↳ ynpiastri never

↳ alexandrasaintmleux We’re like this 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

↳ charles_leclerc Don’t do this to me

lilyzneimer 🤍

oscarpiastri I think you just invented the term “nepo sister”

↳ ynpiastri and i’m too iconic for that

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Going to Jimmy'z the last day of the summer break was a tradition among the drivers at this point.

You looked forward to it, for you, nothing could beat a night of loud music, drinks and friends. You thought that was the reason you got along with Lando and quickly became best friends.

“Ready to tear up the dance floor?” Lando shouted over the music, giving you smirk

“Always!” you replied, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the center of the action, Oscar and Lily being their introvert selves decided to stay at the table with some of your friends.

After a few songs, you returned to the table to catch your breath and order another round of drinks.

Oscar looked up from his conversation with Lily and smiled as you approached.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” you replied, taking a seat next to him. “You two should join us on the dance floor.”

Lily laughed softly. “Maybe later. Right now, we’re enjoying people-watching.”

“Suit yourselves,” you said, shrugging, "I'm going to the bar, does anyone want anything?"

Oscar shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"I'll have another gin and tonic," Lily said, giving you a warm smile.

"Got it," you replied, turning towards the bar.

As you made your way through the crowded club, you found an open spot at the bar and flagged down the bartender. As you waited for your drinks, you felt someone step up beside you. Glancing to your left, you saw the last person you wanted to run into tonight... or ever.

Carlos Sainz was standing there with what you called his "resting bitch face" and acting like he owned the place.

You knew chances of him being at Jimmy'z for the last day of the summer break were high and you had decided earlier that you were just going to ignore him for the night if you ever ran into him. After all, you were there to have fun, not to get into a confrontation. But you were known for being short-tempered, a stark contrast to your brother's laid-back demeanor.

When you heard Carlos order his drink without so much as a “please,” you couldn't help but call him out.

"Whiskey, neat," he ordered, his tone clipped and lacking any form of politeness, his Spanish accent that you found absolutely irritating coming through.

“A 'please' would be nice, you know,” you interjected.

Carlos turned to you, his brow furrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you replied coolly. “It's not hard to be polite.”

"Do I know you?" Carlos stared at you for a moment before recognition dawned. “Oh you're Piastri's sister, aren't you?”

“That I am,” you confirmed, your tone equally cold.

“Figures," Carlos scoffed, shaking his head, "You’re the one who sent me that lovely message on Twitter.”

“You deserved every word,” you replied, crossing your arms.

“Did I now?” Carlos leaned closer, his expression hardening. “You don't even know the whole story. You just assume I'm the bad guy because of Oscar."

“I know enough,” you shot back. “I know you never take responsibility for your actions. You always blame someone else.”

“And what about you?," Carlos’s jaw tightened, "Hiding behind your keyboard, throwing insults. That's real mature.”

“Someone had to say it,” you replied, refusing to back down. “You can't just go around acting like you're untouchable.”

“And you can't go around thinking you're some kind of vigilante,” Carlos retorted. “Can't your little brother handle things himself?.”

“Maybe if you weren't such a jerk, people wouldn't have to call you out,” you snapped, feeling your temper flare.

Carlos sighed, clearly frustrated. “Look, I don't have time for this. Just stay out of my way, alright?”

“Gladly,” you replied, turning away from him.

When you rejoined your friends, they noticed your tense expression. Lando shot you a questioning look, but you just shook your head.

"Ask you bestie," you simply said and Lando threw his head back in frustration, once again, he was in the middle of his two best friends tension.

“I’ll talk to him," Lando said, sipping on his drink.

"Don't bother, he's a bitch."

Later that night, Lando found Carlos near the dancefloor chatting with some friends. He pulled him aside, needing to get to the bottom of the latest incident.

“What happened with YN now?” Lando asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Carlos shrugged before speaking, “I was minding my own business, ordering a drink, and she just came at me."

“And?” Lando raised an eyebrow.

“And she’s just so immature and arrogant,” Carlos continued, “She’s always ready to pick a fight over the smallest things. It’s embarrassing.”

Lando shook his head. “Look, Carlos, YN is protective of Oscar. She sees you two butting heads and she gets defensive. It’s not ideal, but it’s not like she’s completely unreasonable.”

“Well, she sure seems unreasonable to me," Carlos crossed his arms, "I don’t know how you deal with it.”

Lando sighed. “She’s my friend, and so are you. I wish you two could just get along, but I know that’s asking a lot. Just... try to give her a bit of slack, alright? She’s not a bad person.”

"She's insufferable."

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username1 HEEEELP

username2 she’s so messy we needed this 😭

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username4 not her adding the radio message

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↳ ynpiastri scared of your boyfriend??

↳ username2 THEY’RE SO TALKING ABOUT CARLOS 😭

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↳ ynpiastri you’re literally the only ferrari i like..

↳ username3 she really hates carlos i’m screaming

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The Ferrari hospitality was the last place you wanted to be during a Grand Prix, the mere thought of it being the place where Sainz (or as you liked to call him, the little bitch), was most likely to be kept you away from it.

However, Alex told you to meet her there after the Qualifying so you could leave together for dinner. Oscar and Lando already left with the rest of the team, so you had no choice but to wait for your friend.

"Looking for someone, hermosa?" your eyes immediately rolled without even turning around to see who was speaking, the thick Spanish accent that you despised filling your ears.

"Not for you, that's for sure," you said, not even bothering to face him.

"Are you sure? Because this is not the McLaren garage, did your little bro finally kick you out or something?"

"Sainz," you retorted sharply, finally turning to face him, "Shouldn't you be busy making excuses for your next mediocre performance on track?"

"Ah, always so angry, Piastri," he chuckled, unfazed by your hostility, "Maybe you're just frustrated because you're not getting enough attention. I could help with that."

"I don't need or want anything from you," you shot back, your voice laced with irritation.

Carlos leaned casually against a nearby wall, his smirk widening. "Come on, hermosa, you know you've got a temper. Maybe you just need to let off some steam."

Hermosa, the word he used often when he wanted to get to your skin. When you first heard it, you had no idea of what it meant. You were never good at learning Spanish growing up. But after a quick google translation search you found out that it meant beautiful. And for some reason you felt like throwing up.

"Believe me, Sainz, you're the last person I'd ever turn to," you replied icily, folding your arms across your chest, "And don't call me that."

He chuckled again, seemingly enjoying your discomfort. You wondered how Lando could be friends with him when he was nothing but an arrogant little bitch, and you cursed Alexandra for taking so long to get her stuff from hospitality.

"I hope you know that you have some serious issues, Sainz," you said, your patience wearing thin as his cocky stare weighted on you.

"Issues? Me?," Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your anger, "I think you're the one with the problem, querida. Like I said, maybe you need to get laid. I could help you with that, your brother won't find out."

Your eyes narrowed, your blood boiled to the point where you could feel your skin burning up. If it wasn't for the all the people around, you swore you could've punched him.

You took a step closer to him, your voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I hope your car sets itself on fire so you're not able to race tomorrow."

Carlos's smirk only widened, he was well aware that he got into your skin and he enjoyed every minute of it. Before he could respond, Alex finally appeared, her eyes flicking between the two of you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Ready to go?" she asked, sensing the tension.

"More than ready," you replied, shooting Carlos one last glare before turning to leave with Alex.

The next day, news spread quickly through the paddock that Carlos' car had suffered a mechanical failure during the warm-up, rendering him unable to compete in the Qatar Grand Prix. Meanwhile, Oscar had won the Sprint and finished P2 in the race.

Karma got that little bitch, you thought to yourself

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username1 i’m going to miss this season sm

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username4 highlight of the season was the piastri - sainz beef

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↳ ynpiastri that’s what big sisters are for

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The end of the 2023 season was a blur of celebrations, laughter, and champagne showers. Oscar had closed off the season as the Rookie of the Year and you couldn't be more proud of him, you were grateful you got to be by his side through it.

And of course, with the end of the season a celebration at Jimmy'z was in order, all drivers, their girlfriends and friends pulling up to Monaco for one last night of partying before the winter break.

You had stuck close to Lando and Oscar for most of the evening, since it was a special occasion, you decided not to hold back with your drinking and have as much fun as you wanted, Lando being your partner in crime as always.

So by 2 a.m, you were pretty drunk, not to the point where you couldn't stand on your own feet, but drunk enough to make a couple of bad decisions.

With that thought on your mind, you decided that it was time to find your brother or best friend and call it a night. But for some reason, both of them were nowhere to be found.

Stumbling through the crowded dance floor, you made your way toward the back of the club, hoping to spot them. The alleyway was dark and you couldn't see a single thing, but they weren't definitely back there.

"Fancy seeing you here, hermosa," a voice behind drawled, almost making you jump.

"What the actual fuck!" you said, holding a hand to your chest.

Of course it was fucking Carlos Sainz, once again

"You scared the hell out of me!" you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him, "Do you hide in dark alleyways like a creep all the time?"

"Slow down, hermosa, why are you so angry all the time?" his Spanish accent was thicker than usual, a clear sign that he was as tipsy as you were.

"I'm not in the mood for your games tonight," you retorted, trying to brush past him.

"Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble," he said, blocking your path with an easy grace. "Though you do seem to find me wherever you go."

"Only because you insist on being everywhere I am," you shot back, folding your arms over your chest.

"Or maybe you just can't resist my charm," he teased, leaning casually against the wall.

"Charm? Is that what you call it?" you scoffed, "More like arrogance and an inflated ego."

"Arrogance? No. Confidence? Absolutely," he replied with a smirk, "And I think you secretly like it."

"You're delusional," you muttered, feeling the alcohol clouding your judgment. "I can't stand you."

"Is that so?" he said, stepping closer. "Because you seem pretty invested in this conversation for someone who supposedly hates me."

True

"Maybe because you won't let me leave," you said, your voice rising in frustration.

"Or maybe because you've spent the entire season trying to get my attention by being rude to me and blasting me on social media, calling me a little bitch and all."

"I was defending Oscar," you snapped. "You kept messing with him on track. Someone had to call you out."

Carlos shook his head, his cocky smirk even bigger now. "It was never about Oscar, and you know it."

"God, I hate you," you said, ready to walk away but he blocked your way one more time.

"No, you don't," he replied, a knowing smile on his lips. "You just hate that you can't help but get all hot and bothered whenever I'm around."

"You're really are such a little bitch," you spat, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt a strange thrill.

"And you're a firecracker, Piastri. That's what makes this so fun."

"You're so full of yourself," you retorted, but the words lacked their usual bite. The alcohol was making it hard to keep up your defenses, and Carlos's close proximity was doing strange things to your resolve.

"Maybe," he conceded, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But I think you like it more than you let on."

Before you could argue back, Carlos took another step closer, his body almost pressing against yours. The tension between you crackled like electricity, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself unable to pull away.

"You're infuriating," you muttered, your heart pounding in your chest.

"And you," he said, his breath warm against your ear, "are insufferable."

Without another word, he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips in a fierce, almost desperate kiss. It was a collision of anger, frustration, and undeniable chemistry, and you couldn't help but respond in kind.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you kissed him back with equal fervor. His hands roamed down your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

What the hell was happening?

For a moment, all the animosity, all the bickering, melted away. It was messy, it was intense, and it was everything you hadn't realized you wanted.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you could see the same mix of surprise and desire reflected in Carlos' eyes.

Before either of you could say anything, you were interrupted by Lando's voice calling out your name. You quickly stepped back, putting some distance between you and Carlos as Lando approached, a curious look on his face.

"Everything okay here?" Lando asked, glancing between the two of you.

"Just fine," you replied, giving Carlos a final, challenging look. "Just fine."

Carlos nodded, his smirk returning. "See you around, Piastri."

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texts between lando and yn

texts between carlos and lando

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2024 SEASON

Formula 1 was back and in full swing. And with that your "nepo sister" privileges, which included traveling with Oscar for races came back too.

You were excited for this season, Oscar was no longer a rookie and he had a lot to prove, and you couldn't wait to see him rise to the challenge.

In addition to that, this season was going to be extra interesting, since the news of your least favorite driver on the grid (or at least the one you swore you hated) being replaced by Lewis Hamilton in Ferrari were announced a few weeks prior.

"Did you hear the news?" Oscar asked, making his way to you.

"What news?" you replied, setting down your coffee cup.

"Lewis Hamilton is moving to Ferrari next season," Oscar said, watching your reaction closely.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what? So the little bitch is out?"

Oscar nodded. "Yeah, it's going to be an interesting season."

Carlos Sainz was both a source of irritation and inexplicable attraction. You had tried to push the memory of that kiss at Jimmy'z to the back of your mind all winter long, but you just couldn't stop thinking about it.

Plus, Lando was firm on his mission of making wither of you confess that apparently you "liked each other", which made ignoring the whole situation even harder.

You just hoped that he would keep it chill this season, not bothering either you or Oscar so you could just pretend he didn't exist.

With that thought on your mind, you made your way back to the hotel. You spent the day exploring around Bahrain with Oscar and Lando, and now you were ready to unwind in your room. The boys deciding to spend a few more hours walking around before heading back.

Once in the lobby, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors were about to close, a familiar hand slipped in, forcing them open.

Carlos Sainz stepped inside, his ever-present smirk firmly in place.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say.

"Not going to say hello, querida?" he said after a few seconds of complete silence from you, leaning against the elevator wall.

"Carlos. Still popping up where you're least wanted, I see," you rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest.

"Missed you too, Piastri," he chuckled, pushing off the wall to stand closer you, "How was your break?"

"Great, thanks for asking," you replied coolly. "Did you enjoy yours, planning how to be a pain to other drivers this season too?"

"Is that really how you want to start our first conversation of the season?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, "I though we've left that in the past, specially after what happened at the end of last year."

You tensed at his statement. More than once during the break, you wondered if he remembered what happened that night. He was as drunk was you were, if not more, so you convinced yourself that he had forgotten about it.

"I don't remember much from that night. Must have been the champagne."

Carlos leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. "Oh, I think you remember perfectly well. Especially the kiss."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your expression neutral. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Playing dumb doesn't suit you," he said with a chuckle. "But fine, we'll pretend it never happened. For now."

"Good," you replied sharply. "Because I have no intention of discussing it."

"Maybe you're playing dumb because you want me to kiss you again," Carlos teased, making you throw your head back in frustration.

"I'd rather choke on my own spit, little bitch,"

"Ahh, missed hearing that," Carlos said, his tone cocky and satisfied with your frustration. You mentally cursed the elevator for taking so long to get to your fucking floor.

"You know what? I hope you don't find a seat for next season at all. You act like a total peacock when everyone knows you're basically unemployed right now," you spitted out before you could even think twice.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his expression momentarily serious. "Low blow, Piastri. Even for you."

You held his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down. "Just stating the obvious."

The elevator finally dinged, announcing your floor, and you stepped out swiftly, eager to end the conversation before it could escalate further.

Carlos Sainz had a way of getting under your skin like no one else, and the season had only just begun.

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username1 ICON IS BACKKKK

username2 nooo we need you to keep dragging sainz

mclaren Our favorite nepo sister 🧡

↳ ynpiastri that’s meeee

username3 yn always gives us lily x oscar content bless her

charles_leclerc What if I need you to fight someone from the grid for me?

↳ ynpiastri you know there’s one person i would gladly drag through the mood

↳ username1 HER HATRED FOR CARLOS LIVES

lilyzneimer love youuu✨

oscarpiastri Cute picture of me and Lily, thank u sis

↳ ynpiastri i’m just here for my babies 🫡

landonorris I know your reasons

↳ ynpiastri you’re so strange sometimes

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It was a sunny day in Melbourne, and the paddock was buzzing with excitement. The Australian Grand Prix was always a favorite, and this year was no exception.

You felt good to be back home, you always felt proud when you saw Oscar on the track, but seeing him racing in your home country was something even more special.

Carlos was also back from his emergency surgery and ready to race again. And even though you would never admit it out loud, you were relieved to see him back and healthy. The news of his appendicitis had shocked you more than you’d expected, and you’d found yourself genuinely concerned about his wellbeing.

I'm just being a decent human being, you tried to convince yourself, It would be really scary if that happened to Oscar or Lando.

Walking through the paddock, you looked for a familiar face to hang out with before it was time for the track action to start, spotting Lando's back talking to someone you couldn't quite identify, you decided to approach him.

As you got closer, Lando shifted slightly, revealing the person he was talking to, Carlos.

He looked well, a healthy glow back in his cheeks, his smile easy and relaxed. He was wearing his team gear, the Ferrari red suiting him perfectly. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and despite the casual setting, he looked effortlessly handsome for someone who had a major surgery just two weeks ago.

Your stomach did a little flip. You hated to admit it, but lately your hatred towards Carlos had cooled down. Maybe it was the memory of that kiss, seeing him vulnerable after his surgery or the fact that he had been decent to Oscar so far. You couldn't deny that there was something about him that made you feel… softer.

However, you decided to ignore those thoughts and feelings every time they got to your head, because at the end of the day, there was no way he could ever feel or think the same way. It was better to keep hating each other.

Lando noticed you approaching and gave you a teasing grin. "Hey, YN! Look who’s back from the dead!"

Carlos turned to face you, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "Hey, Piastri," he greeted with a warm smile. "Back to your home turf, huh?"

"Yeah," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the flutter in your chest. "It feels good to be back."

Lando gave Carlos a pat on the shoulder. "I'll catch up with you later, mate," he said, winking at you before walking away, leaving the two of you alone.

You stood there for a moment, awkward silence filling the air. Maybe he was still tired from what he had been through, but he didn't show any signs of cockiness or wanting to annoy you this time.

"You look well," you finally said, your voice softer than usual. "I'm glad you're back."

Carlos chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "I heard you were worried about me."

"Don't let it go to your head," you replied quickly, though the usual bite in your tone was missing. You felt a bit embarrassed that he knew, "I’m just being a decent human being."

"Of course," Carlos said, his voice nonchalant, "Decent human being, sure."

"I’m serious," you insisted, though your voice lacked the usual edge. "But I am glad you’re okay. It must have been scary."

Carlos’s expression softened. "It was. But I had good doctors, and I’m ready to race again. Thanks for worrying."

There was silence again, and you noticed that this was the first time you and Carlos had an interaction that didn't include biting each other's heads off.

It felt nice.

"Well," you said after a minute of silence, "don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you had surgery. You're still on my watch."

"Wouldn’t have it any other way," Carlos smirked, "But for the record, it’s nice to see you care, even if you won’t admit it."

"Don't push your luck, Sainz," you warned, but there was a hint of playfulness in your voice.

"I wouldn't dare, Piastri."

"I should get going," you said, pointing towards the McLaren hospitality, "Good luck out there."

As you turned to walk away, Carlos's voice stopped you in your tracks.

You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in question.

"You know, this is the first time you don't call me a little bitch," Carlos said, a small playing on his face.

"What, you miss it already? Does it turn you own?"

"Maybe a little," Carlos chuckled, "Keeps things interesting."

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile that threatened to spread across your face.

"Well, good luck out there, little bitch."

You didn't wait to see his reaction, but you knew he was grinning from ear to ear.

Later that day, Carlos crossed the finish line first and won the Australian Grand Prix, sending the crowd into a frenzy. You watched as Carlos celebrated on the podium, spraying champagne with Lando and Charles and holding up the winner's trophy with pride.

You swore you played it cool, but everyone around you noticed the huge smile on your face.

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username1 AUSSIE QUEEN

username2 omfg included a picture of sainz win??

↳ username1 how pissed do you think she was bc he won in australia

↳ username3 i love that she didn’t tag him tho 😭

alexandrasaintmleux Mama piastri >> 🫶

↳ ynpiastri our real queen

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landonorris Please don’t make me do a shoey ever again

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↳ oscarpiastri Aussie traditions mate

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"You're not my best friend," Lando said, sitting on the plush couch of your hotel room, watching as you put a sweatshirt on, "You've been replaced with an alien or an evil twin, there's no way you're YN Piastri."

"Can you quit being dramatic," you rolled your eyes at him, "It's no big deal."

"You're grabbing sushi with Carlos Sainz," he stressed, moving his hands to emphasize, "You hate Carlos Sainz, it's been an issue for me for the last year because both of you force me to pick sides and I have to make sure you don't kill each other. And now you're suddenly going on dates."

"This is not a date," you protested, "Don't even say that out loud, it's gross."

"Then what is it? Because he asked you out and you said yes, that's literally a date."

You didn't give him a reply right away, hiding behind your your busy hands as you pretended to adjust your sweatshirt.

Truth was, you didn’t have an answer, at least not one that made sense. You couldn't blame Lando for thinking you've been replaced with someone else, because you'd never accept anything from Carlos last year, let alone willingly grab dinner with him.

But here you were, about to head out to meet him.

"I just want free dinner," you shrugged, "And he offered to buy it, so I'm taking advantage of it."

"Sure, free dinner," Lando gave you a skeptical look, crossing his arms, "Because you’ve never had other options for free dinner before, right? Your brother is rich, he could buy you whatever you want."

You huffed, trying to sound annoyed but feeling a bit defensive. "It's just sushi, Lando. Stop making it a big deal."

"You know, it's okay if you like him," he said, his tone genuine. "I mean, I get why you're hesitant, but it's fine to have feelings for someone, even if it's Carlos Sainz."

"Are you out of your mind?" you immediately said, your voice sharper than intended, "We're talking about the little bitch, what on earth makes you think that I could have feelings for him other than disgust and irritation."

"I don't know, maybe the fact that you're getting ready to get dinner with him, or that you were on the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was recovering from the surgery, or the time I almost caught you kiss-"

"God, just shut up," you interrupted him, "Oscar would understand. He knows I'm never going to get all lovey-dovey over Carlos."

"Oscar might buy whatever you tell him," Lando raised an eyebrow, "But that doesn't mean you're being honest with yourself. It's not the end of the world to admit you might have a crush."

"I do not have a crush on him," you insisted, your cheeks heating up. "It's just... complicated."

"Complicated how?" Lando pressed, leaning forward. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty straightforward. You’re intrigued by him, he’s intrigued by you, and you both can’t seem to stay away from each other."

You let his words sink in, Lando might be a year younger than you, and often perceived as a carefree guy who didn't have a serious bone in his body. But in reality, he was a very wise person who understood the complexities of situations better than most.

That was one of the reasons why he was your best friend.

"Look, it’s not that simple," you sighed, rubbing your temples, "We have history, and not the good kind. I don't trust him, and I don’t think he trusts me either. We're just… trying to be civil for once."

"That's good," Lando stood up from the couch, sitting beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "Honestly I was tired of dealing with your constant bickering, if you didn't kiss and make up on your own, I was going to lock you up in a closet until you resolved it."

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username1 BESTIEEEE

username2 THIS LOOKS LIKE A DATE

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↳ username1 LET ME INNNN

f1gossip 👀

username3 CARLOS SAINZ ???

↳ username1 girl no way they hate each other

↳ username2 he’s in the likes tho 😭

landonorris IM FREEEEE WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFEEEE

↳ username1 wtfffff

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↳ username2 OSCAR 😩

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

After a nice dinner and a couple of drinks, you and Carlos walked back to the hotel. The sushi had been surprisingly good, and the conversation… surprisingly pleasant.

The bickering between you was still present, but this time it wasn't harsh or spiteful, it was playful and and light-hearted. The tension that usually accompanied your interactions had lessened, and you actually acted friendly towards each other.

"I still can't believe you made me try that weird seaweed thing," you said, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked.

"You loved it, admit it," Carlos chuckled.

"Maybe a little," you conceded with a small smile, "How did you know this place anyways?"

"I like reading restaurant reviews online," he shrugged, "It's a random hobby of mine, and I'm going to need those in case I don't have a job next year."

You paused, his words sinking in. Carlos joked about it, but you knew the uncertainty of his future in Formula 1 must be horrible. The sport is cutthroat, and the thought of not finding a seat to race must be weighing on him heavily. It made you think about Oscar, and how that could happen to him too.

"I'm sorry for saying that I hope you don't find a seat next season," you blurted out, feeling a pang of guilt. "You're right, that was low, even for me."

"Are you really apologizing, Piastri?" he teased, "First you cared about my health, now you apologize. What's next? You'll stop calling me a little bitch?"

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice behind it. "Don't push your luck, Sainz. Just take the apology and run with it."

"Alright, I'll take it," Carlos laughed, a genuine sound that made your heart skip a beat, "You must be praying I stay just so you have an excuse to argue with me, aren't you?"

"Don't flatter yourself," you shot back, grinning. "I can argue with anyone."

"But you like arguing with me the most," he said, his voice softening.

You didn't reply, the truth in his words making your heart race. From the corner of your eye, you saw the satisfied grin on his face.

Soon enough you reached the hotel lobby, and once you walked through the doors you spotted Charles and Alexandra by the reception desk.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Charles called out, drawing the attention of Alex, who looked at you with raised eyebrows.

"Just coming back from dinner," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. "What are you two up to?"

"We were just about to head up," Alexandra said, linking her arm with Charles's. "How was dinner?"

"Surprisingly good," Carlos said, glancing at you with a smirk.

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "This is new. You two actually getting along?"

"Don't get used to it," you said, rolling your eyes. "I just wanted free dinner."

"Right," Charles said, not convinced. "Well, we're heading up, you coming?"

You all piled into the elevator, the small space filled with a mix of comfortable silence and light conversation. When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out, Carlos following close behind.

"Goodnight, guys," Alex called out as the elevator doors closed, giving you a look that screamed 'TEXT ME ASAP'

Carlos walked you to your room, the hallway dimly lit and quiet. As you walked side by side, the occasional brush of his arm against yours sent small shivers down your spine.

"So, the only reason you agreed to come with me tonight was because you wanted free dinner?" Carlos asked once you reached your room.

"Exactly, what else do you think would make me want to spend an evening with you?"

Carlos chuckled, leaning against the wall beside your door. "I don't know, maybe my charming personality and good looks?"

"Charming?" you raised your eyebrows at him, "You're literally the most annoying person I know."

"Likewise, Piastri," Carlos shot back, his smirk widening, "But here we are, aren't we?"

"You really think you're that special, don't you?" you said, rolling your eyes.

"I know I am, querida," Carlos replied, stepping closer. "And you can't get enough of me."

You looked away from him, his stare suddenly becoming overwhelming. He was really close, as close as he was the night you kissed at Jimmy'z, and even thinking about it has your neck crawling away in sweat.

"See? You can't even deny it." Carlos grinned, his eyes locking onto yours again, his voice dropping an octave as he took another step closer.

"Don't get any ideas," you warned, but your heart was racing, and you were sure he could hear it.

"I can't help it," he said softly, his face now inches from yours. "You bring out the best in me, Piastri."

"I still hate you," you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned in even closer.

"No, you don't," Carlos whispered back, his lips brushing against yours.

Before you could protest, he closed the distance and kissed you. It was gentle at first, tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn't, the kiss deepened, becoming more intense and filled with a raw passion that took your breath away.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you kissed him back, losing yourself in the moment. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, a small smile playing on Carlos's lips.

"Goodnight, Piastri," he whispered, his voice husky.

Unable to move from your spot, you watched him walk through the corridor and disappear into the elevator doors, your mind still blurry about what happened just seconds ago.

You were fucked.

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A playlist full of pop classics played as you got ready for Lando's millionth win celebration.

He took the win at the Miami Grand Prix and the next following days were full of partying and champagne. You were beyond happy for him, and willing to put up with his multiple celebrations of his well deserved win.

This time, the setting was not that over the top, just a casual dinner at his place in Monaco with his close friends.

"Can I come in?" you heard after a knock on Oscar's guest bedroom, the place where you stayed when visiting Monaco.

"Sure," you replied, quickly meeting with your brother's figure.

Oscar entered the room, a casual grin on his face. He glanced around before his eyes settled on you. "Are you almost ready?"

"Yeah," you replied, adjusting an earring. "I hope this is Lando's last celebration, I can't keep up anymore.

"He's definitely on a roll," Oscar chuckled, "You know, Carlos is going to be there."

"I know," you said, looking away from him for a moment and trying to keep your tone nonchalant.

"You do?" Oscar raised a eyebrow.

"He's Lando's best friend, Osc, it's obvious he'll be there."

Oscar nodded slowly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Right, of course. But you two have been getting close lately, haven't you? You didn't even come for his neck after Miami, and you always do that."

You sighed, knowing where this conversation was heading. There was no denying that there was something between you and Carlos, your friends might not know about the times you've kissed, but they definitely noticed the shift in your behavior towards each other.

You found yourself enjoying his company, looking forward to catch a glimpse of him every weekend and craving his touch. You don't know if he feels the same way, but the way he looks at you and finds ways to get you alone tells you he does.

Admitting this to Oscar felt like crossing a line, even though he had always encouraged you to be open about your feelings.

"We're just… getting along better. That's all," you muttered, "And you asked me to behave on social media this season, I'm trying to do that."

"That's bullshit, YN," Oscar shook his head, a teasing smile forming on his lips, "Come on, admit it. Maybe the real reason you didn't attack him this time is because you like him."

"Oscar, we're not having this conversation," you quickly became defensive, "I don't know why everyone insist on something that's far from the truth. I don't like Sainz."

"Sis, it's okay if you like him," Oscar said, his tone gentle but insistent. "You don't have to hide it from me."

You looked away, feeling conflicted. Ever since you first met Carlos, there was something about him that intrigued you, however, you were too caught up in convincing yourself that he would never see you as more than his brand new rival's sister. Things getting worse when his incidents with Oscar on track started and you took that as an opportunity to be reckless to him.

It was a self defense mechanism for your own feelings.

"It's complicated, okay?" you said, feeling vulnerable but knowing you could trust him, "We spent last year coming from each other's necks all the time, but now he's nice to me and I am too, we spend time together, we kiss. But at the same time, I feel like I can't trust him, that he's going to switch to little bitch mode again and I'll end up feeling stupid for potentially catching feelings."

"Holy shit you've kissed!" Oscar said, his eyes widening, "Lando was right all along."

"Oh god, I shouldn't have said anything," you threw your head back in frustration.

"Sorry, sorry," he put his hands up in defense, "But It's okay to feel confused. You can talk to me, you know. I'm your brother, and I just want you to be happy. I can tell that this is really bothering you."

You sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I just don't know what to do, Osc. One minute I think I might actually like him, and the next I'm terrified of getting hurt."

"Look, I know Carlos can be intense on track, but off track? He's a good guy," Oscar sat beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders, "When he's not trying to push me off the track, he's really supportive and a nice guy. There's a reason why Lando adores him. Plus, maybe he's figuring things out too."

You leaned into Oscar's side, grateful for his comforting presence. "Do you really think so?"

"Yeah, I do," Oscar nodded reassuringly. "And you deserve to give yourself a chance at happiness. If Carlos could make you happy, then why not see where it goes?"

"When did you become so wise?" you teased, giving him a small smile, "You're supposed to be my annoying little brother who picks his nose and runs around the house."

"Hey, I can be wise when I want to be," Oscar chuckled, giving you a playful shove, "But don't worry, I'll always be your annoying little brother, nose-picking and all."

You laughed, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. "Thanks, Osc. I needed this."

"Anytime, sis," Oscar said warmly, giving you a quick hug. "Now, come on. Lando is probably drunk already and we haven't made it to his house yet."

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INSTAGRAM

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux and 215,726 others

ynpiastri the rumors are true: lando norris keeps celebrating his miami win even tho it’s been a week

view all 3,967 comments

username1 so iconic tbh

username2 EXCUSE ME MISS IS THAT CARLOS SAINZ IN THE LAST PIC ??

↳ username1 i thought they hated each other 😭

danielricciardo 🙌

alexandrasaintmleux 👀 I see you

↳ ynpiastri and i don’t see you over her which means your boyfriend sucks for not bringing you

↳ charles_leclerc …..

landonorris IM V DRVNK OMG

↳ username3 i love him 😭😭😭😩

username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri the ultimate enemies to lovers lowkey

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You're not sure how it happened, but Carlos' arm laid casually in the back of your chair as you chatted with those around you. His fingers gently brushed your bare shoulder from time to time, his thigh pressed to yours under the table.

Maybe it was the couple glasses of champagne you both had, you're not sure. But you definitely didn't want to move from your spot.

No one dared to say anything about it, but your friends had teasing grins at the sight. You knew you'll have to deal with them later, but you decided to ignore it for the night.

"Alright, I think I'm calling it a night," Oscar said as he got up from his chair, Lando immediately booed, "Are you coming, YN?"

You looked at him with raised eyebrows, you definitely didn't want to leave yet, feeling too comfortable in Carlos' presence. In addition to that, you haven't had a chance to get him alone, and that was enough to not want the night to end.

After a minute of silence from you, Carlos spoke up, "I can give her a ride home if she doesn't want to leave yet," he offered, his voice smooth and nonchalant.

"Oh, a private chauffeur service now, Carlos? How fancy," Max teased from across the table, making the entire group laugh.

Oscar hesitated, glancing between you and Carlos, his protective instincts kicking in. "Are you okay with that, YN?"

"Yeah, I'm okay with it," you met Oscar's eyes and nodded, "Or I can just crash here, Lando is too drunk to notice anyway, don't want to cause much trouble."

"It's really no trouble," he insisted, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder. "I'll make sure you get home safely."

Oscar seemed to relax a bit, though you could tell he was still a little uneasy. "Alright then. Just... be careful, okay?"

"Don't worry, Osc," you replied, standing up and giving him a quick hug. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As Oscar left, the group continued to tease and laugh. You always enjoyed when the drivers were in a casual setting like this one, where they could forget about competition and teams and just hang out and have fun.

You stayed glued to Carlos the entire time, getting even closer as the night went on, you could feel your eyelids getting heavy, so you laid your head on his shoulder.

"You're falling asleep on me, hermosa," Carlos whispered to you, not moving your head from its place.

"I'm not," you protested, but at the same time you did a yawn escaped your mouth, which made Carlos laugh.

"Come on let's get you home," Carlos offered you his hand.

You took Carlos' hand, not even thinking twice about it. As you both stood to leave, your friends couldn't resist one last round of teasing.

"No funny business, Carlos," Charles called out, grinning widely. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. "We have Oscar on speed dial."

"Yeah, don't make me come after you, that's also my sister," Lando added, too drunk to even make sense.

You laughed, waving goodbye to everyone as you and Carlos made your way out. The cool night air was refreshing as you walked to his car, your hand still in his.

The drive to Oscar's place was quiet but comfortable. Carlos kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console close to you. You found yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way the streetlights played over his features.

At one point, Carlos glanced over and caught you staring. "You're staring," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

You felt your cheeks heat up but didn't look away. "Maybe I am," you replied, a teasing edge in your voice. "You have a problem with that?"

"Not at all, Piastri. Not at all."

When you arrived at Oscar's place, Carlos parked the car but you made no move to get out. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.

"Are you ready to stop pretending we hate each other?" Carlos asked suddenly, his voice low and earnest. "Because I am."

His words hung in the air, causing your heart to skip a beat. The intensity in his gaze made it clear he wasn't playing around or teasing you. He was being real and serious.

You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto his. "Yeah, I am."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a mix of tenderness and hunger. The world outside the car ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the way his kiss made you feel.

Carlos' other hand found its way to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pressed you closer. Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on as if letting go meant losing this moment forever.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Carlos' eyes searched yours, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"But… I'm not ready to stop calling you a little bitch, though."

[nereidprinc3ss]

kiss it better

in which spencer notices your bruised knees and tries to make it up to you

18+ (fluff, allusions to past intimacy) warnings/tags: gn!reader i believe, reader has bruised knees lol, guess why, implied intimacy, hurt/comfort, sorta implied d/s dynamics maybe?? spencer is so smart and not very smart, but forever my no. 1 cutie pie a/n: why do i love writing about smut like before and after smut way more than i actually like writing smut LOL anyways here is this cause i haven't been posting very much!!! (also ik I said I don't like babe as a pet name but shhh) and GIF :D

“Hey,” you grunt as you flop on the bed in your pajamas, rumpling the neat covers. “Pay attention to me.”

Spencer holds his Sudoku off to the side and watches, eyebrows raised, as you scoot closer, tossing your leg over him. Soon he’s abandoning the book and pen on the bedside table in favor of hooking his fingers under your knee and stroking your leg, much to your delight. 

“Okay. What kind of attention would you like?”

You allow him to put his other arm around you and settle your cheek on his shoulder. 

“This is pretty good.”

“Oh, good,” he says with only a hint of teasing, leaning down slightly to kiss your lips and then the tip of your nose. 

When he pulls away you can’t help smiling up at him like a lovestruck idiot. Obviously he’s perfect all the time, but in his glasses, with his hair messy, wearing a navy crewneck instead of a button up and tie… he’s just… he’s just so…

He’s just so alarmed?

“Honey, your knee.”

“My knee?” Your own brows furrow and you track his eye line, craning your neck to look down to the blotchy sprawl of purple and red marring your skin. “Oh.”

The pillow is soft under your head where it falls, unconcerned even as Spencer gawps at you, baffled by your nonchalance. 

“What did you do?”

You snort. 

“What did you do, Spencer?”

It’s cute, the way his lips move as he silently repeats the sentence, trying to discern the meaning of your words. 

“What do you mean? I did something?”

“Babe.”

The knot between his brows has not loosened any—in fact you’re worried he’s going to give himself a headache. Or at least make himself dizzy, with the way his eyes cycle between your own. You try again, covering his anxious hand on the bend of your leg with your own. 

“When we got back from Penelope’s thing, the other night?”

Slowly the understanding seeps into his expression—soft guilt in his eyes, and a deep red stain in his cheeks. At least his face relaxes. 

“Oh.”

God, he’s so cute. He can’t hold eye contact, looking down once the shock of embarrassment has faded and swallowing, a little frown twisting his features once more. You reach up, brushing his cheek with a thumb and adjusting his glasses. 

“What’s wrong?”

The question comes out too smiley, but you can’t help it. 

“I hurt you,” he says, quietly, utterly ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I kinda think you did,” you tease, and Spencer says your name with a serious edge. You try to quit grinning so much. “Baby, it’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. Don’t you ever get mysterious bruises?”

His eyes are wide and honest on yours when he meets them again. 

“No. My iron levels are optimal.”

Naturally. 

“Okay, well, lots of people do. Sometimes I get a bruise and I have no idea what it’s from because it never hurt. These,” you look down, gesturing to your knee, “never hurt. It’s just what happens when your knees hit the floor.”

“Well you shouldn’t have been on the floor,” he scolds, countering with a sweet touch on your cheek. “I’m never letting you touch the floor ever again.”

Your shit-eating grin is back and better than ever. “Oh, so you’re going to carry me everywhere we go?”

“If that’s what it takes. I don’t like seeing you bruised up.”

“It’s okay. I bruised myself doing something I love.”

At this Spencer rolls his eyes and kisses you once more before gently pushing your leg away and getting out of bed. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, all smugness gone and more concerned than you ought to be as he flicks the bathroom light on. For a moment you receive no answer, but then he reappears bearing a white tube. 

“Give me your legs,” he says, sitting next to you on the bed. You swing your legs over his lap and watch on in mild interest as he dispenses lotion from the bottle and tosses it aside, carefully rubbing it into the bruised skin. Every few seconds he glances up to gauge your reaction, and though it’s definitely tender, you avoid wincing. “You don’t have to do that. I can tell it hurts.”

You laugh. 

“Yeah, well, it didn’t until you started trying to fix it.” The ointment is pungent and you make a face. “What are you rubbing all over me?”

“This is vitamin K and Arnica. It will make the bruises go away faster.”

“Aw. You don’t think they’re pretty on me?”

He sets the bottle on the nightstand and retrieves the pen he’d been doing Sudoku with earlier, uncapping it. Your heart swells as he draws tiny sad faces by the bruises on your knees, glasses slipping down his nose as he focuses intently. 

“I always think you’re pretty. I just never want you to be hurt, ever.”

“Are you done taking care of me now?” You ask, reaching out for him. The pen joins the bottle and suddenly he has no concern for your bodily health, practically crushing you with a hug. When he speaks it’s muffled by your shoulder. 

“Never.”

You hum, nose tickled in his hair and forming a dastardly plan. 

“You could kiss them better.”

Spencer laughs and presses his lips briefly to your neck. 

“I might just do that.”

[itgetzweird08]

Part one

“..go out with me”

Your breathing hitched, indicating that you hadn’t been asleep all this time. You turned to face him then, flipping on your side in his bed to get a better look at his face. Even in the dark you could see the strong outline of his jaw and his messy blonde hair. He stared up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, and shrugged. “I mean, why not? We’re practically dating anyways” he followed up, vermillion eyes glancing down at you. “Any reason you’re asking me this now?” You whispered, moving slowly as you shifted closer to place your head on his chest.

This time, his breath stuttered.

Moving slowly, as if you were a flighty deer ready to run at any moment, he moved his hand from behind his head to on top of yours. His fingers gently played in your hair. He breathed a shaky breath, completely stripped of his usual hard shell. He was completely vulnerable to you in this moment. “When I was lying there on the battlefield..all I could think about was your stupid face.” He grimaced, stiffening a bit at the memory. You placed a hand on his chest, tracing circles with your thumb. He exhaled with a shaky breath. “I was bleeding out, all these fucking holes in me, and one of the only things I could think of was how angry I was at myself for not being able to man up and ask you out properly. I waited too long and everything’s a mess now. The city is a fucking wreck, we’re on lockdown..and I had a whole plan too. I was gonna take you to that noodle shop you like with the stupid name. And now I can’t, because it’s too late and now I might fucking die before I ever got the chance-“

You pressed a soft kiss to the new scar that peaked out from his black tank top, causing his words to get stuck in his throat.

“Take a breath..” you told him softly. He obeyed, breathing in air and blowing out his tension.

“It’s okay, B. You’re okay. I was mad too. I was so mad at myself for not being able to protect you when you got hurt, not being able to move a little bit faster and push you out of the way. I was mad that you might die before I got the chance to tell you how much I like you..” he smirked at your words, smug covering up his giddiness. “You like me?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes and moving to shift away from him out of feigned annoyance. But he wrapped an arm around you waist and pulled you closer.

“I like you too nerd…a fuckton”

You couldn’t help but smile, sinking deeper into his hold as you breathed him in. And for a moment, you felt untouchable in here. Despite the looming threat of war, the scorching flames of the world outside, you were safe in his arms. You wished you could stay like this forever. A yawn left you as your eyes began to droop, and time seemed to come to a slow stop.

It was silent for a moment, as you both began to drift off before a question came into your mind. Despite your drowsy state, you couldn’t help but smile as you asked

“…so if you like me, does that mean you’ll admit that Oodles of Noodles is a fantastic name for a noodle shop-“

“Go to sleep, shithead.”

——————

Ps: im starting to do requests! So if you have an idea for me, go ahead and put it in my asks <3

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.”