#YALL WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW LONG I SPENT ON THIS

[joelsrose]

Guns & Roses

previous chapter

Chapter 2:

After your tense exchange with Joel, his venomous words hit hard, leaving you taken aback by a sudden wave of insecurity—feelings you thought you had long moved past. Sensing this, Joel begins to question his own actions, unsure of the impact his words have had on you, but the tension between you remains unresolved as you both navigate the emotional distance that continues to grow, unsure of how to bridge the widening gap.

TW: depressive/anxious themes related to emotional abusive/traumatic previous relationships, also this is a slow burn yall so plss be patient i know i want them to be in love right neoowww but first they have to hate each other xxx Also let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list x

The next morning, you lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, your limbs weighed down by exhaustion, but the heaviness in your chest was far worse. Patrol was in an hour, but the thought of moving—of facing the day, of facing him again—felt impossible.

Yesterday had been a disaster—worse than you could have imagined. It wasn’t just that you had nearly died, although that should’ve been enough.

It was Joel—his words.

The way they had sliced through the air, cold and brutal, landing like a blade straight to your chest. You could still hear his voice echoing in your mind, sharp and biting.

“Fucking burden.”

It wasn’t just the insult—it was the way the words felt like something you’d heard before. The familiarity of it. Hearing it brought back memories you’d fought hard to bury. Memories of another time, another voice—his voice, saying the same thing, over and over.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the flood of memories to stop, but it was no use. They slipped through the cracks of your defenses, no matter how hard you tried to push them away. You thought you had buried those moments, locked them up where they couldn’t touch you anymore. But Joel’s words had torn those scars wide open, and now they were bleeding again.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been called a burden. That word had haunted you for years, ever since him—the one who had made you feel small, insignificant.

You had spent years trapped in a relationship where every step you took was wrong, every emotion too much, every need a flaw. He made you feel like a weight around his neck, dragging him down, and every argument ended with him reminding you that you were too needy, too sensitive, too flawed.

A burden.

You believed him. For years, you let those words become your truth. Everything wrong in your life was your fault, and the idea of being loved felt so far out of reach that you stopped hoping for it. Even when you finally found the strength to leave, the damage had already been done. The lies he had planted in your mind were like weeds, tangled in your thoughts, impossible to fully uproot.

Brick by brick, you rebuilt yourself after walking away. You told yourself you were stronger now, that no one would tear you down like that again.

But Joel’s words—delivered with such cold finality—had brought it all crashing down. It was as though he had reached inside and ripped out the deepest, darkest insecurity you had tried so hard to keep hidden.

You tossed and turned, the memory of every moment, every word, replaying on a loop. The way he had looked at you, the anger in his voice, the disgust. It hurt more than it should have, more than you wanted it to. But the truth was, Joel had unknowingly triggered something much deeper.

You curled deeper into the blankets, pulling them tight around you as if they could shield you from the weight of your own thoughts. You weren’t just sad—you were spiraling. Slowly sinking into a pit of doubt, worthlessness creeping back in like poison, the same way it had years ago.

Because the truth was, you had never fully healed. You had put bandages on the wounds, told yourself you were fine, but you had never truly faced the scars. And now, they were unraveling. You blinked up at the ceiling, wondering if you would ever truly escape this feeling—this heavy, suffocating belief that you were always going to be too much. Too much for the people in your life. Too much for anyone to really love, to want.

And Joel? He probably didn’t even care. To him, it was just another day. Another patrol. He’d probably be glad if you called out sick. Glad not to have to deal with you at all.

You thought back to last night, Tommy had come by, knocking gently on your door, his usual wide smile in place.

“How’d patrol go?” he asked, his voice full of warmth, his eyes bright with that familiar, unshakable optimism.

You lied. The words slipped out before you could even think twice.

“It was fine. Nothing much happened.” You even forced a smile, adding something trivial about the snow getting heavier. And Tommy, being Tommy—trusting, kind, always believing the best—had smiled right back. He gave your shoulder a light pat, that easy grin spreading across his face. “Good,” he’d said, clearly relieved. And then he left, looking so genuinely happy that it twisted something deep inside you.

The guilt of lying to him weighed heavily in your chest. But how could you have told him the truth? How could you have explained what had really happened out there with Joel? The things you had both said still lingered in the air, unspoken but present in every breath you took. You couldn’t admit that the person Tommy looked up to—his own brother—had made you feel like nothing, like something broken and worthless.

So you kept the truth buried, hidden behind that forced smile, letting Tommy walk away, blissfully unaware of the weight that had settled on your shoulders. You told yourself it was better this way. Less messy.

Now, as you dragged yourself out of bed, pulling on your patrol gear, you couldn’t shake the sense of dread clinging to you like a second skin. You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your jacket, wondering if you were making a mistake by going. The tension between you and Joel was thick, palpable, and the thought of spending another second with him made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

But you swallowed it down— the hollow ache in your chest—and forced yourself to leave the house. You told yourself you could get through this day. One foot in front of the other. That’s all you had to do.

•••

The snow was heavier today, thick flakes falling in a relentless flurry, blurring the world into a monochrome haze. It seemed to swallow everything—your surroundings, your thoughts—leaving behind a cold, biting quiet as you trudged toward Joel. The wind was sharp, stinging your skin as you walked, your mind racing with everything that had been left unsaid the day before.

When you finally saw him, standing by his horse, the same hard expression etched across his face, it was as if yesterday had bled straight into today. Nothing had changed. The tension between you was suffocating, thick like the snow that blurred the edges of your vision.

Joel didn’t acknowledge you. Not with a nod, not with a word, just the stiff set of his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw. His whole posture was guarded, closed-off, as if he were bracing himself against more than just the cold. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything either, your pride weighing down every word you considered. Instead, you mounted your horse and set off, the only sounds the crunch of snow beneath the hooves and the distant howl of the wind.

The cold words from yesterday still hovered between you like a storm cloud, dark and ominous. You thought, for a fleeting moment, about breaking the silence, about reaching across the vast space that had grown between you. But every time you opened your mouth, the weight of your own pride, your hurt, held you back.

And Joel? He seemed just as unwilling. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, his body tense, his lips set in a grim line.

Hours passed as you patrolled deeper into the woods, scanning the treeline for any signs of movement. The snow fell heavier and faster, the wind picking up as it screamed through the trees, the world around you shrinking into a blur of white. By midday, it had grown too much—the path ahead was barely visible, the storm swallowing it whole, the danger in pushing forward palpable.

Joel finally broke the silence, his voice rough and barely audible over the howl of the wind. “We need to stop.” His eyes flicked toward the horizon, where the dark silhouettes of trees loomed through the snow, distant and unreachable. “There’s no way we’re making it any further in this.”

His voice, though low, felt like it shattered the heavy quiet that had hung between you all morning. For a second, you met his gaze, the intensity there catching you off guard. It wasn’t just the storm or the danger—it was everything that had been simmering beneath the surface. Everything unsaid. But just as quickly, he looked away, his eyes scanning the snow, the moment slipping away as fast as it had come.

You nodded silently, following Joel’s lead as he steered the horses toward the nearest shelter you could find—a small, weather-beaten outpost nestled at the base of the mountain.

The cabin looked forgotten by time, its roof sagging under the weight of heavy snow, but it was better than freezing to death in the open. The two of you dismounted, still wrapped in the oppressive quiet that had grown between you, tying up the horses in a practiced silence before heading inside. The sudden stillness of the enclosed space was a small mercy, a temporary reprieve from the biting wind.

Inside, it was cramped, the air thick with the stale scent of damp wood and long-forgotten memories. The cabin was barely holding itself together, but at least it was shelter.

The cabin was freezing, the cold seeping into every corner, making the walls feel like they were closing in. You glanced at the fireplace, its hearth blackened from years of neglect, a thick layer of dust coating the stone.

You muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to Joel, "I’m gonna go look for something to light a fire."

Joel didn’t respond. You heard the low groan of the ancient couch as he sat down heavily, the springs creaking under his weight. The fabric was threadbare, worn thin by time and disuse, much like the rest of the cabin. He rubbed his shoulder, his face twisted in discomfort for a brief moment before settling back into his usual unreadable expression. His jaw was clenched, muscles tense, his whole posture tight and closed-off, as if he were bracing himself against more than just the cold.

You glanced at him briefly, your eyes catching on the lines of tension in his face, the way his hands flexed against his knees. But you didn’t linger on it. Joel was always like this—guarded, closed-off, like he was constantly holding something back.

You turned away, letting your eyes scan the small, dilapidated cabin around you. The place had clearly been abandoned for years, and it showed. Broken furniture was shoved into corners, splintered chairs piled against one wall, and shelves sagged under the weight of old, forgotten items that hadn’t been touched in decades. Dust clung to everything like a blanket, thick and undisturbed, the kind of dust that only settles when time forgets.

You ran your fingers absentmindedly across the surface of a rickety table, leaving a streak in the grime. The cold air from outside seemed to have seeped into the very bones of the cabin, giving it a lifeless, hollow feel.

As you rummaged through a crate in the corner, looking for anything useful—something to light a fire, something to stave off the cold—you could hear Joel outside. He had decided to check the area around the cabin, muttering something about seeing if there were any supplies worth bringing back. Old medicine, tools, anything that might have been left behind by whoever last used this place. His heavy footsteps crunched through the snow, fading in and out as the wind howled around the cabin.

You pulled out a few pieces of old, dry wood from the crate, hoping they’d be enough to start a decent fire. A few minutes passed, and you heard Joel's footsteps return. The door creaked open as he stepped inside, bringing with him a blast of cold air.

He grunted, clearly frustrated, as he dropped something heavy onto the floor—a bag or maybe a crate, you weren’t sure. You glanced up briefly, watching as he walked toward an old cupboard in the corner.

“Anything?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral, but there was no answer. Joel was already focused on the cupboard, tugging at the stubborn door, his expression set in that familiar, determined way.

You turned back to the crate, rummaging deeper when suddenly, a loud crash echoed behind you, making you flinch.

“Fucking hell!” Joel’s voice followed, sharp and filled with pain.

Your heart jumped into your throat as you spun around, eyes wide. Joel stood hunched near the cupboard, his body tense, one hand pressed tightly to his chest. Blood seeped through his fingers, dark and thick, dripping onto the wooden floor below in a slow, menacing rhythm. The cupboard door hung askew, a jagged shard of glass sticking out from where the door had broken. He must have accidentally shattered it when trying to open it.

“Jesus Christ, what happened?” you rushed toward him, panic rising in your chest. Joel grimaced, his face pale, sweat beading on his brow from the pain.

“It’s nothing,” he bit out through gritted teeth, his voice taut with a mix of irritation and discomfort.

“It’s not nothing, Joel—you’re bleeding,” you replied, your eyes widening as you stepped closer, heart racing. He was leaving a trail of crimson, blood spilling from his hand and staining the floor, a stark contrast to the muted tones of the cabin.

“Just cut myself on the damn glass,” he muttered, his other hand pressed tightly to his chest, trying to staunch the flow. The shallow rise and fall of his breath spoke volumes; he was in more pain than he wanted to admit.

“Sit down,” you ordered, pointing toward the old couch, but Joel shot you a hard look, his eyes narrowing in defiance.

“I don’t need to sit,” he snapped, attempting to step away from you, the stubbornness radiating off him like a palpable force. His body was tense, coiled like a spring, and you could see he was resisting the pain, unwilling to admit he needed help.

You stood your ground, planting yourself in front of him. “You’re bleeding all over the place, Joel. Sit down. Now.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, it felt like a standoff. But you refused to back down. His irritation flickered in his eyes, but eventually, he relented with an exasperated grunt, sinking back onto the couch with a wince, the weariness in his posture finally giving way.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and quickly pulled your first aid kit from your pack. Taking a seat next to him, you reached for his hand, but Joel recoiled again, trying to pull it back.

“I can handle it,” he growled, the edge of his voice betraying his discomfort.

You shot him a fierce look, refusing to let his bravado intimidate you. “Can you not be so stubborn for once?”

For a heartbeat, his gaze flickered to yours, something unspoken lingering in the air between you. Finally, he relented, holding his hand out toward you. “Fine,” he muttered, though the annoyance in his tone still hung heavy. “But make it quick.”

You wasted no time, gently pulling his hand forward. His fingers were calloused and rough, the result of years of hard work and struggle, a testament to the life he led.

The cut was nasty—glass had sliced deep, leaving a gash that continued to ooze blood. You pressed a cloth against it, trying to stop the flow.

“Shit,” you muttered, your heart racing as you examined the injury. “I need to suture this,” you mumbled.

Joel shook his head, his face hardening once more. “Like hell you are,” he growled, attempting to retreat again, but you tightened your grip, refusing to let him pull away.

“What, you’d rather let it get infected and fall off?” you shot back, your voice rising slightly in frustration. “Just let me do this, Joel.”

The intensity in his gaze flared for a moment—anger, maybe, but beneath it, there was something softer, a flicker of vulnerability. He seemed to weigh his options before finally relenting. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You grabbed a bottle of alcohol from your kit, and without warning, began to clean the wound. The moment the liquid touched the raw flesh, Joel hissed sharply, his body tensing as a stream of curses left his mouth.

“Jesus Christ!” he swore, his jaw tightening as he tried to keep still.

“Sorry,” you muttered, though you didn’t slow down. “But it needs to be disinfected.” You worked quickly, trying to focus despite the tension radiating from him.

With deft hands, you cleaned the wound, your fingers steady even as your heart pounded in your chest. The needle slipped between your fingers like second nature, but the closeness between you both felt anything but routine. Knees brushing, neither of you dared to move, the tension crackling between you. His scent, earthy and warm, mingled with the faint trace of sweat, filled your senses, stirring something. Heat rolled off him, maker it harder to concentrate.

As you worked, Joel sat still, his jaw clenched tightly against the discomfort. The tension in the room was thick. You glanced up at him briefly, catching his gaze as you focused on stitching the cut. There was an intensity there, a flicker of something deeper than just pain.

“Just breathe,” you murmured, trying to keep the mood light despite the weight of everything unsaid. You concentrated on your task, the delicate movements of the needle requiring your full attention, but every time you looked up, Joel’s eyes were fixed on you, filled with an intensity you hadn't seen before.

When you tied off the final stitch, a wave of relief washed over you. “There,” you murmured, gently wiping away the last traces of blood. “That should hold. Just try not to move too much,” you added, pressing a bandage over the wound, your fingers lingering for just a moment longer than they should have.

Joel didn’t respond right away, his eyes darting anywhere but toward you, as if the weight of the moment was too much to confront. Finally, he released a slow, ragged breath. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, the single word laden with all the things left unsaid.

You nodded, feeling the weight of the silence settle between you again, heavier this time.

•••

You stayed in the cabin for hours longer, the silence between you and Joel stretching out like an invisible barrier, thick and unspoken. Neither of you had spoken since you’d tended to his hand, but this time, the silence wasn’t charged with anger or frustration.

Instead, it filled you with something much heavier—an aching sadness that settled deep in your chest.

You weren’t sure when it began, but as you sat there, watching the snow fall outside, your mind drifted back to the words Joel had spat at you the day before. The weight of them, the way they had pierced something tender inside you, was impossible to shake. They had stirred up feelings you thought you’d buried—the same feelings that had kept you awake last night, thoughts you couldn't push away no matter how hard you tried. Now, as you stared at the endless white landscape beyond the cabin walls, you felt stuck in that spiral again.

You’d been here before, trapped in a loop of doubt and self-loathing, questioning your worth, your place in this world. Joel’s words had pulled it all back to the surface, like ripping open an old wound that had never truly healed. The silence in the cabin only amplified those thoughts, the quiet making the weight of them impossible to ignore.

You didn’t even notice when Joel spoke.

"Seems like the snow’s died down. We should get going." His voice broke through the fog of your thoughts.

It was rough, as usual, but there was something different this time—something softer, almost cautious, like he knew the air between you had shifted and wasn’t sure how to navigate it.

You wiped at your cheek, suddenly aware of the tear that had slipped down your face without you realizing.

The sadness that had been pressing down on you felt too heavy to carry now, like it had become too much all at once. You nodded, your voice barely audible as you replied, “Yeah… let’s go.”

For a brief moment, you caught Joel’s gaze. His brows furrowed, his eyes searching your face like he was trying to read something there, something more than the tear. Maybe he saw the pain you were carrying, maybe he didn’t. But for a fleeting second, there was a flicker of concern in his eyes. A hesitation. And then, just as quickly, it was gone. The wall came back up, his expression unreadable once more.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and stood, gathering your things with a sigh that felt like it came from the deepest part of you. The exhaustion wasn’t just from the cold or the events of the day—it was from the constant battle you were fighting inside yourself. And in that moment, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it up.

The journey back to Jackson was cold and quiet, the only sound between you the steady crunch of snow beneath the horses' hooves. The storm had passed, leaving the world around you still and blanketed in white, as if the entire landscape had been frozen in time.

The ride felt long, each minute dragging on, the cold biting at your skin as the wind whipped through the trees. All you could think about was getting home, sinking into the warmth of your bed, and shutting out the world.

The silence between you and Joel made the journey feel even longer, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on your shoulders.

Your mind wandered back to the cabin—Joel on the couch, the tension in his face as you tended to his wound. You wondered if he even knew what his words had done to you. At the end of the day, he shouldn’t have said what he did—that much was clear. But deep down, you knew he hadn’t meant for it to cut this deep. He couldn’t have known the depth of the pain his words would unearth, the way they’d pull you back into a spiral of doubt and self-loathing.

When you reached the stables, the familiar routine of tending to your horse became a lifeline, a small anchor in the swirling storm of emotions. The simple motions—loosening the saddle, brushing down the coat—gave your hands something to do, something to hold onto.

You could feel Joel’s eyes on you, the unspoken weight of his gaze making your skin prickle. Embarrassment washed over you, creeping up your neck and settling in your chest. He had seen you cry in the cabin, had watched that tear slip down your cheek—and it was enough. That single moment of vulnerability felt like too much, like you had exposed a part of yourself you hadn’t meant to.

You didn’t wait for Joel, even though his presence lingered close by, the soft sounds of his movements cutting through the still air. You could’ve asked how his hand was, could’ve wished him goodnight, maybe even walked home together—it would’ve made sense, living on the same street and all.

Instead, you gathered your things, the silence swallowing the unspoken words as your boots crunched against the snow. Without a backward glance, you walked away, your breath clouding in the cold air, leaving behind nothing but the imprint of your footsteps.

What you didn’t see, what you couldn’t have known, was the way Joel’s eyes lingered on you as you walked away. His gaze followed your every step, his expression unreadable, though shadowed by something heavier, something that settled deep in his chest and refused to loosen its grip.

He didn’t call after you, didn’t ask you to wait, even though the words itched at the back of his throat.

Instead, he stood there in silence, watching as you disappeared into the night, your figure swallowed by the darkness and snow.

And in that quiet, as the cold wrapped around him, he felt it—the guilt gnawing at him, the weight of his own words hanging heavy in the air between you. He’d seen the way you’d changed after he said it, the way something in you had pulled back, retreated, and now the regret settled in like a second skin.

It wasn’t just the bite of the wind that cut into him—it was the sharp sting of realizing what he’d done, and that he couldn’t take it back.

•••

Tag List: @immyowndefender @babygals-world @zenrobbins0021 @malfoycassimalfoy

[llamagoddessofficial]

Okay wait! We need more fae farm Sans please! that was too good! What would it look like when Sans's secret is revealed?

HFKDSJ okay, here's some more.

I really don't think he'd be too worried about it, when you discover his otherworldly nature. Because neither would you. Everyone already knows he's kind of strange, rumours of him not being 'normal' are abound. At that point, you would've already spent many moons getting to know him, being vulnerable without even realising - and you'd be living in a world where fae aren't uncommon at all. He's already proven himself a trustworthy friend. Why would you be scared of him?

... Especially since you have no reason to believe he's anything other than normal fae.

What you (a human) might forget is that the fair folk are not a homogeneous group. Some fae even other fae fear. He's one such entity.

It's difficult to tell if he's more powerful than Dream or Nightmare, considering he spends all his time... well, farming. It's also difficult to compare them because while all three are very ancient, they trace back to very different lineages. Dream and Nightmare are fae of butterflies, flowers, mushrooms, trees, seasons. Farmer is of ferns - of bogs, of gingkos, pine and moss.

Yall remember my Forest God AU? He's like if a Forest God got its act together, and just decided to settle down in a humanoid form. He's lived long enough to know what really matters... things like soft socks, a place to call home, the eyes and lips of a human you love.

He calls you "chickadee". It's his favourite bird.

People from the nearby village will giddily ask if you and Farmer are 'courting'. The delightful but mysterious bachelor finally has someone he likes? Everyone's rooting for him!

You have a very important role, on his farm. Very very important. You're his preserves tester. How is he supposed to know his jams and chutneys are any good, without someone of refined palate to assist him?

He has a really wonderful singing voice.

Old habits die hard; he still likes to trade. But the trades are silly, and often just an excuse for him to play. You want to hear him sing again? Better 'trade' by agreeing to cuddle up by the fire with him. You want another song, because the last sounded so ancient and beautiful and unlike anything you've ever heard? Try his spiced rice pudding, then he'll think about it.

His favourite food is roasted chestnuts.

His farm rests on the boundary between the fae and human worlds. You can enter from either side - and if you're not careful, leave on the wrong side. Farmer always walks you the right way, but if someone he doesn't like decides to make their leave, he might not be so attentive to where they're going.

You can stay at his farm without turning into fae. Alternatively, if you enter his property from the fae side, your transformation into fae is paused.

Wouldn't be surprised if he can reverse an incomplete transformation.

He talks fondly, but in the past tense, about a brother.

[jjenthusee]

Racing Hearts Pt. 4

f1!driver!jason x reporter!reader

A/N: hello my gremlins <3 i wanted to share with u guys that i successfully moved YAY so that explains the update being slightly behind and the less responses i’ve given to comments (i read them all i swear <3) BUT HERE IT IS \(^o^)/ i took way too long to edit and rewrite the way i believe the story should go, im having so much fun with this series and i want to thank all of u who are supporting it from the beginning or saw the updates as they came. ENJOY the fourth chapter of the Racing Hearts series (ALSO THERE’S 300 FOLLOWERS WOW 🥹 THANK U TO ALL THE PEOPLE THAT LIKE MY PAGE AND CONTINUE TO SUPPORT MY CRAZY SAD WRITING AND MY DRAWINGS i love reading your funny comments, unhinged reblogs, and talking about your favorite parts of the story, it really gave me the push to write and contribute to the jason todd community) and i just wanted to remind yall…i haven’t forgotten about that hurt/comfort tag :)

Check out the Racing Hearts masterlist! It shows all the updated chapters and upcoming ones <3

Tags: banter, agonizing fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers, spicy if u squint, we’re hitting halfway thru the story so let me introduce what i do best…angst HAHAHA

Word Count: 4.1k

“In all of my career, I have to say that I never thought I would be standing here wearing…these.” Jason looked down to his feet.

The camera focused on the two of you standing next to one another, the lens following Jason’s stare toward the ground. The camera woman zooming in on the bright red Lightning McQueen crocs he was wearing.

You sheepishly admired the shoes, proudly smiling back up to Jason. Bewilderment plastered on his face as he couldn’t believe you actually gifted him Lightning McQueen merch, not even in private but in an interview with multiple cameras pointed at him.

What a predicament he was in. He was definitely not offended when you told him how similar the red car and he were.

“It’s a small thanks from the company for completing your third interview with us.” You smiled brightly at Jason. “Also consider it as a way for us to say ‘good luck’ for your upcoming season.”

Jason couldn’t believe it as he laughed. No matter how much time he spent with you, you always surprised him in the best ways.

“Y’know, I thought the Cars jokes were going to fade out, but you’re a bad influence on my fans.” Jason lightheartedly teased you, stomping his foot enough to let the crocs light up.

You fought a straight face, holding in laughter and trying to stay as serious as you could, but you were about to break any second. You bit the inside of your cheeks to prevent yourself from smiling, internally promising yourself that you would make sure to get a picture of him later.

You already had his new contact picture picked out.

“I couldn’t think of any other way of showing you my support.” You nodded your head proudly.

“Really? Nothing else?” Jason’s eyebrow rose, his tone sarcastic.

“You’re the best F1 driver I’ve ever interviewed.” You smirked, watching the shoes sparkle.

“I’m the only F1 driver you’ve ever interviewed.” Jason looked at you in disbelief.

“Anyway! We’re closing this as the last part of our series, I’m glad you were able to be a guest before you get busy putting on the RedBull uniform again, I know your fans will really enjoy that—” You wrapped up the finale, finalizing the last public appearance the two of you would have next to each other. A bittersweet ending.

But you always had the Jason laying with you on your couch. Feeding each other dinners, taking motorcycle rides late in the night.

“This can’t be the last time I see you. You’re my favorite interviewer.” Jason lulled his voice, rephrasing your earlier comment back at you. “After all, you gifted me something so…special.”

You paused, shocked at Jason’s forwardness with you, the timber of his voice adding an underlying flirty tone to him.

You’ve never talked to him about the public appearance about the two of you. Could you go public?

It’s for the camera. You silently told yourself.

“You have to win for me to see you again.” You smirked, quickly playing along with his attempt to fluster you.

“That’s too easy, you could try to make this a little harder for me.” Jason chuckled lowly. “It’s almost like you want to see me.”

Oh my.

“So much talk for someone who hasn’t started his comeback season.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “You also didn’t start your last season smoothly, so don’t talk so confidently.”

“But who sat at my last press conference celebrating my win? I don’t end things so easily.” Jason tilted his head as he looked down at you, tension increasing. “I’ll come back when I win, it’ll be our little secret.”

Jason winked at you, the cameras focused in on his face and your reactions.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher between the RedBull Jason on camera and your Jason.

He was his playful self, the signature half smirk trying to get you to blush, but his eyes were soft when he glanced over to you.

You calmly gave in, maybe it was for the camera or maybe it was for you.

“Aw, that’s so sweet, but I don’t think I could keep that a secret.” Your polite smile opposing Jason’s mischievous one. “I don’t think you realize but,” you leaned toward Jason, pausing to eye his figure up and down, gleefully watching him pay attention to your every word. Your smile getting wider at how easily he was wrapped around your finger. “I’m a reporter, I can’t keep that beautiful face to myself.”

“But I’m really good at keeping them.” Jason stepped closer, eyes never leaving yours.

His eyes beamed a playful hue to them.

You cleared your throat, looking at the camera woman who also stared in awe.

Crap, the office was going to get suspicious.

“You should focus on winning first before you make any promises.” You coughed, diffusing the atmosphere Jason created as the film crew watched. “Then call my business number and you don’t have to keep any secrets.”

Once the camera stopped rolling, you resumed your professionalism. Saying goodbyes and getting final pictures for the website and both social medias.

All the previous interviews went well. The fans saw Jason’s personality in action, gaining more attention and love for the racer. Jason’s management team was satisfied with you and the attraction he was gaining before the season started.

It gave him the right press he needed to put him in the spotlight.

After Jason left with his management team, you finalized the video upload that his company agreed to. Your draft for a new article about Jason to be edited and reviewed for the upcoming week. It was business as usual.

Getting work done during the day, then meeting Jason for the evening.

When you got back to your desk, you organized yourself to overlook the release date for the final interview and reviewed for the next big project to tackle now that your work with Jason was finished. Multiple meetings with project managers and your team.

Work was picking up for you, managing larger projects, interacting with larger faces.

Jason lit the hallway to opportunities for you.

Your phone lit up next to your laptop, distracting you from one screen to another.

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: pick you up at 6?

You smiled to yourself. Happy, but bittersweet.

You reminded yourself that Jason’s off-season was ending. You wished time could slow down.

—— “Gosh, you’re so clumsy.” You adjusted Jason’s helmet. All the time spent with him reflected in your familiarity with the motorcycle helmet.

“Only for you.” Jason stood there, leaning down to let you reach around his head. Watching you worry about the two of you.

Jason had kept his promise to pick you up.

Most of the time he waited on you to get back from work. Sometimes pushing the boundaries and secretly meeting you for a quick lunch. Meeting him far from where your coworkers frequented.

Your first encounters were hidden behind the idea of work, finding answers to questions for interviews, or suggesting new places to eat.

It was like you couldn’t be apart from one another.

Oh, how you can change a man.

You let Jason fake his ignorance through certain tasks, giving him any reason to get you close to him.

But you gave into his every attempt. Not fighting against his clinginess.

Your roles would switch soon, he wouldn’t wait for you after tiring days of work. You would have to watch him race lap after lap on live television like the rest of the world.

He was leaving soon, you knew he would be busy, it was inevitable, but you wanted as much time before he left.

You sat behind Jason, his body warming the front of you as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Holding onto him close, wearing the helmet he got you, feeling his solid stomach shift the motorcycle as you rode around the city. You were getting used to your new lifestyle, despite the hidden secrets you shared.

He couldn’t announce a relationship after you were waiting for the last installment of your interviews.

The timing wasn’t right and the meetings this would cause for you and Jason were going to give you a headache.

You heard the motorcycle engine interrupt your thoughts.

Jason slowing at a red light. He stopped, placing his feet on the ground to stabilize the two of you while you waited. The red glow reflected onto Jason sitting in front of you.

The streets were almost empty. Gotham barely waking to the darkness, a city that never sleeps.

“Jay.” You hesitated behind him.

“Hm?” Jason unconsciously acknowledged, resting his hand over yours around his stomach. Rubbing the fabric of his gloves onto yours.

“I want to stay with you longer.” You calmed your voice, careful in verbalizing your feelings.

“You want to drive around more? I think we can drive by—“ Jason continued to rub your wrists. Cars passing in front of him, the opposing traffic keeping you still.

“No, I don’t want to leave you tonight.”

Jason paused, his hand resting on yours, no longer moving. If the cars weren’t in front of you, crossing the intersection, you would have thought time was frozen.

Jason tilted his helmet back, to get a look at you.

You don’t know what he was looking for, your face covered by a protective helmet like his was, but he found what he needed when the light turned green.

It was green, but you stayed there, no other traffic surrounding you.

Just you and Jason.

“Want to come to my place?” Jason kept his black visor on you. “I have a killer TV to watch Cars on.”

You chuckled. Squeezing his waist a little more.

“Better have a good speaker for playing Life is a Highway.”

Jason smirked, hidden from your eyes as he watched you lean back into his warmth.

The humid air covering the two of you into summer clothing. Thinner fabrics and showing more skin.

Jason wore a simple fitted thin long-sleeve, matching the look of his helmet and gloves. It made a great view of his broad back.

A quiet exhale as he looked forward again, revving his engine to life to make a quick turn, opposite of your home.

You were racing the rain as Jason was taking you back, but after you spoke the magic words, how could he send you back home?

The dark summer rain clouds were no longer behind you, the two of you heading straight for them as you watch Jason take you down new streets, an unfamiliar path to Jason’s place.

“I don’t think you’ll make it to the living room before then.” Jason quietly spoke to the light drizzle hitting your bodies

“What did you say?” You couldn’t hear above the engine.

And he was right.

After you were soaked to the bone, fabric sticking to your form, water droplets falling down your skin. A glossy sheen from the harsh rain falling all around you.

Jason had pulled into his garage.

He was in the same state, wet clothes stuck to his skin. The water from you and the motorcycle dripping onto the concrete floor.

You pulled your helmet off, the only dry place.

Once Jason parked the bike, he took off his helmet, placing it on the nearest work table. Your body shivered as you threw your leg over to maneuver yourself off.

You looked down at your state, smiling in disbelief at being caught in the rain.

Maybe you could wear Jason’s clothes after a nice warm shower. You internally thought to yourself. Excited to enter Jason’s place. A new location unlocked.

When you put your helmet next to Jason’s, you could finally take in all of him.

Black shirt tight from the weight of the water, his hands littered with scars, free from the gloves. His hair dry, but messy.

All his muscles more prominent.

You stood in awe, your chest rising from the breaths you took. Humid air invading the inside of the garage, elevated from warm summer nights.

The sight of Jason reminded you of the professional pictures taken of him, leaving his Formula 1 car after a race. He was sweaty, running his hands through his hair with a towel in hand.

After all the time you spent together, it was your favorite photo of him. You secretly saved it because there was something about the look on his face, happy to win, alive on the track.

How attractive he looked was a definite bonus in your opinion.

Jason glanced over to you, finally realizing the state the two of you were in. He slowly looked you up and down, lost in the same visual you were in awe of once you saw him.

You suddenly remembered the last time you and Jason were enclosed in a garage, close to each other, messy from a hard day of distributing winter jackets and food to those who stopped by.

A slight warmth increasing on your face.

Jason stepped closer to you, hands grabbing for your waist to pull you in. His hands reaching under your chin to stretch your neck to adjust to his height.

Breaths mixing as your lips touched only from the movement of your lips unconsciously opening, ready to kiss him.

He waited.

Letting the pressure build as he spoke.

“There’s no volunteers to interrupt us now.” Jason lifted you, letting you sit on the surface of his work table. His arm swooping everything off as he cleared enough room for you.

You could hear objects fall, but you couldn’t care less as Jason stepped between your legs. Quickly, but carefully rubbing at your legs with his palms, his hands getting closer to the blurs of where your thighs met your waist.

Everywhere felt great that you didn’t know where to focus.

The feeling of your lips, your sides, his body between your legs?

You could only huff between the intensity he was igniting in you.

“Jay—inside—it’s cold.”

Despite your words, you didn’t bother to move. You kept touching, feeling everything before Jason lifted you again, the placement of his hands as he carried you, lifting the edges of your shirt.

The feeling of a mattress beneath you as you uncomfortably tried to peel the clothing off your body.

Jason chuckled at your frustration. You couldn’t bother to give him a snide remark as he also struggled to get your soaked clothes off.

When lifting the shirt didn’t work, you tried rolling the fabric, but it only bunched just below your sleeves.

You could only laugh as Jason desperately tried to get the shirt through your arms. Tangled in the mess you both created that you were left with a heavy shirt stuck around your biceps.

“Why is there always something stopping me from seeing all of you?” Jason laughed as he kneeled above you, his shirt completely off at some point along the way to his room.

“I don’t think a pair of wet clothes are going to stop you now.” You smiled at him, glancing up at his figure through the darkness. Only the city lights creeping through the blinds, illuminating his skin.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Jason yanked your entire shirt off your arms.

You sucked in a breath at his desperation, memorizing the look of his face as he leaned down closer.

“I want to turn you into a mess.” He whispered into your mouth, kissing down your body.

Overwhelming gasps and breaths left your mouth the more he touched your skin.

“I want to touch you too.” You exhaled, trying to coherently express yourself.

“Next time, sweetheart. I want to focus on you. Everything I want is you.” Jason moved your hair out of your face, stuck from the sweat covering your skin.

The night filled with you repeating Jason’s name, no distractions keeping that man off of you.

After a shared warm shower, Jason gave you a nice pair of his dry clothes. You walked around his place, relaxed after Jason’s…expertise.

What you weren’t prepared for was just how normal his apartment looked. It felt like yours, but bigger, a little more luxurious like it was bought with the intention of having better quality to last longer.

You hoped he had no plans of moving anytime soon.

You stood in the kitchen in awe.

“You have a kitchen island.” You whistled in excitement. “Formula 1 money is good, huh? Maybe I need to pick up a Redbull uniform.”

Jason chuckled, hugging you from behind smelling like the same soap in your hair, his face nuzzling into your neck. You continued to speak.

“No, I can’t steal your fame.” You whispered to yourself. Jason feeling the vibration of your voice the longer he leaned into your neck.

“I’m happy you’re here.” Jason mumbled into you, ignoring everything you said.

“Me too, I’ve been curious where you live.”

“I invited you before, but I guess we’ve always gone to your place.” Jason smiled into your skin. “What do you think?”

“Its very…Jason. I like it.” You glanced around.

You more than liked it. It smelt like Jason. A smell you’ll never grow tired of.

His apartment was slightly bare, the space a little too large for the one man, but that was charming too. It felt like you were able to occupy that small empty space in his life.

When you walked around, Jason following you like a duckling, you noticed the small knick-knacks you bought with him on your dates.

Matching plushies, a book you picked randomly, a bookmark you gifted him, and a tiny paper frog you made while waiting for your table before dinner.

You felt cherished, looking at the physical representations of your memories together.

He grabbed you again, wanting the closeness. You fell back into him, the small paper frog in your hand, made from old receipt paper.

Jason resumed his prior back hug, absorbing your warmth.

He was more clingy than usual tonight.

“How was your trip to the charity today? I forgot to ask you about it at dinner, it must be hard to take a break from them to race again.” You leaned into him more.

Jason buried himself further. Not a great hiding spot since he was larger, but it was the thought that counted.

“I would love to hear about it.” You put the frog back on the shelf, letting it watch the two of you.

“It was good, I got to do one final check to make sure everything would be good when I’m gone. But…” Jason hesitated, squeezing you a little tighter.

You waited, rubbing circles on his forearm.

“I had noticed a lot of stuff come in, it’s a good thing, but it wasn’t like our usual haul. I didn’t recognize it as the stuff I brought over either.” Jason breathed, agitation filling his voice. “When I asked around about it, they said Wayne Enterprises had it delivered.”

Jason went silent. He was tense.

“I always tell that old man to fuck off. He never listens.” Jason sighed.

The last thing Jason wanted was another check from Bruce. Taking over the hard work he had volunteered for months.

Another sanctuary was being taken away from Jason’s grasp.

“I can’t stand it.” Jason whispered. His eyebrows taut.

You maneuvered your head back to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, I know that was the last thing you wanted to happen.” You soothed.

Jason leaned in for more kisses.

“Don’t worry, I’m feeling better already.” He exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. Jason smiled into your skin, his voice returning to normal. “But looking at those damn crocs every morning makes me mad.”

You laughed as he grew bolder, pushing the topic aside as you leaned to the floor buried from Jason’s affection surge.

If he was deflecting, distracting himself from his hurt then you could let him kiss you a couple times to distract himself.

Shared kisses, lost in each other’s presence, too occupied to notice the multiple buzzing sounds from Jason’s phone.

——

Once the public release of the third and final interview was released to your company’s website, the usual flood of comments embraced the look at the two of you.

You lost yourself in the positive comments, ignoring the negative ones, but that was the price of social media. It was the evils of publicity.

You read comment after comment about the excitement to watch the fresh new season. Iconic racers coming back to their playing field, excited to reveal new car designs, getting the opportunity to collaborate with anyone and everyone.

As the time for Qualifying reached you, the temperature fully warmed and Jason wasn’t next to you to enjoy it.

He had conferences, practice drives, and flights to catch. Now that he was past elimination, it was time to test his fastest time.

It wasn’t even the peak of the season, but you were missing him.

You sighed into your phone, a small vibration felt in your palm. A message from Jason appeared.

It was a photo of his Lightning McQueen crocs on the plane. A big contrast to the fancy carpeting, expensive seats, and an up-to-date screen playing the children’s movie.

You smiled to yourself in your desk chair, but a small prick to your heart struck you.

The difference in your lifestyles hitting you. He was a rich racer, traveling the world in one of the most expensive suits in modern racing.

You felt…small.

The two of you hadn’t talked about what would happen once he started racing full-time again.

How far was this relationship going?

Would you follow him to his races around the world? Should you follow him?

Would you officially announce anything?

Was this an off-season romance? Only an off-season romance?

What about your job?

“Hey, we need to be there by one. Should we grab a quick lunch?” Your coworker called out to you, interrupting your pessimistic thoughts to yourself.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there. Meet you in the lobby?” You locked your computer, grabbing your key badge, ready to go out of the office.

You quickly typed out a message, taking advantage of Jason still on his phone.

You: Hey slow down try to give the other guys a chance

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: fast is the only way I go. you, especially, should know that ;)

You blushed, quickly putting away your phone to catch up with your team.

——

Jason’s performance during qualifying went as expected. He performed in P1, claiming and boasting as he usually did. His time seemed to be getting faster, raising the competition standards for everyone.

You only shook your head as you looked at the results on your phone, a small smile on your face.

Jason was busy going to opening days, press conferences, driving on the racetrack. His replies were becoming sparse.

You: I knew those crocs were good luck charms

No read receipt. No reply.

You kept yourself busy at work. Falling into a routine.

You checked your phone again during lunch. No messages.

Your apartment felt empty when you came home, no lovable man standing in the kitchen.

Still no reply from Jason. It would’ve made you sad if you weren’t so tired.

Your phone rang as you got ready for bed. Letting your head hit the pillow as you heard Jason’s voice in your ear.

“I just saw— paper frogs that—vendor—the street and—grab some.” Jason’s voice went in and out of your mind, fighting the urge to sleep.

His voice was too soothing.

“That’s nice, Jay.” You slurred.

“Sweetheart? Are you awake—“ His voice started to get farther and farther.

You couldn’t keep your eyes open and your dreams filled with you sitting in the stands, watching Jason race.

Wind hitting your skin, watching the flags fly in the air, engines roaring past you.

He was so far away and kept driving further away from you.

You jerked awake. Looking for your phone in the blankets.

You had fallen asleep while on your first phone call with Jason since he left.

“Shit, I wanted to hear his voice.” You shook the blanket in the air until your phone fell from it.

You looked at your call history. Apparently, it had been a video call, but you hadn’t realized after you woke up this morning.

Jason not only heard you embarrass yourself, but he saw it too. You quickly opened your messaging conversation.

You (Yesterday): I knew those crocs were good luck charms

You (Today): i’m sorry I didn’t know it was a video call

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: don’t worry about it, I got to see u when your phone fell off your face

“Nooo!” You screamed to yourself.

Your face fell in your hands as you read the messages coming in.

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: I got something out of it HAHAHA

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: let’s talk next time

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: I wanna hear your voice

You sighed.

Getting up to start your weekend, putting Jason’s live race on the TV screen.

Putting on the shirt that smelled like Jason.

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[silkscream]

CHAPTER 3: TOO SOFT TO CHEW

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

There’s a nasty thought in the back of his mind that festers every time he thinks about how much his skin longs to be in contact with yours. That someday, this fact will come back to bite him in the ass, that maybe he’s letting his guard down too much.

But that’s a problem for another day.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: smut (18+ mdni), bratty satoru, big angst, angry sex, oral sex (m receiving)

ੈ✩ wc: 3.3k

ੈ✩ a/n: i kind of hate how short this chapter is but it's a primer for the hell that breaks loose in later chapters. hope yall are enjoying kiss kiss kiss

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

September, 2008

The way Satoru wants you makes your head spin. Your encounters are irregular and almost always in secret. Satoru likes to show you different spots around town, secret havens where he doesn’t have to worry about getting interrupted. This is what he tells you – he doesn’t want to waste a minute with you. You believe him.

It gets unnerving when he begins to take you while you’re both in school. Sometimes in a single-stall bathroom, once in a supply closet. Every time, he makes you cum, and after you’re both spent, you walk back to class together without a word. He doesn’t touch you otherwise.

It contrasts the clingy Satoru that you get at home. He’s touchy, annoyingly so, as if he can’t stand to not be tethered to you for more than two minutes. He is infinitely suffocating and you are too infatuated to care.

When he’s entangled with you in his bed, you ask him a question that guts him.

“Do you think staying like this is a good idea?”

“What do you mean?” Satoru mumbles sleepily. “You wanna get out of bed?”

“No, I mean, this,” you make a vague gesture, “I just… figure that when we go off to different colleges it’ll be harder. To, um, hang out.”

“Huh? What college are you going to?”

You know he doesn’t mean it rudely, like the thought of you investing in higher education was something implausible. You think that maybe he hadn’t thought that far into the future when it came to the two of you together. It makes you ache regardless.

You tell him about the university you got into that was able to give you a scholarship. He looks at you like you have three heads.

“Don’t you want to go to Jujutsu Tech with me?” he asks. 

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you have a technique.”

There’s an awkward silence between you. The air shifts. He pulls you a bit closer, has his hand cupping your jaw. 

“Satoru– I’m not going to be a sorcerer–”

“Why not?” he yawns. “You could get in, easily. Especially if I have anything to do with it. And Shoko could teach you a thing or two—”

“Who said I wanted to become a sorcerer?” you blurt.

Satoru looks at you in disbelief with a hint of betrayal behind his eyes. As if what you say is preposterous, unheard of. Because where would you be if not by his side?

He argues with you about this. It makes your blood warm. The thought of having to follow him around. Forever stuck in his shadow. He was already blessed by heavenly bodies, Six Eyes and all. You were nothing.

You could never compare to the inherent invincibility of his cursed technique. No one truly could. Knowing how late your technique manifested makes you feel even more inferior. With your status in the world, a maid’s daughter, there was no point in becoming a pawn in the Jujutsu world. How would you make a career? How could you ever be strong enough to save anyone? And if you died, you’d only leave behind your mother. 

The wedge between you deepens after that. You realize how far away you are from Satoru on paper despite him aching for your touch, close enough to you right now as his breath licks your face.

There’s no resolution. It snowballs into something worse. This looming threat is above your heads now, a slap of reality about how different the two of you are. You realize it would be convenient for Satoru if the thing between the two of you ended. It wouldn’t matter to him – he had everything. He always would. You only had your heart and your dignity. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Satoru sighs against your temple. “We’ll figure it out. I really do think you should come to Jujutsu Tech.”

He shuts you up with his mouth, with his hands circling your thighs like he always does, the way you always let him.

November, 2008

You’re getting better at your technique. You think you could do just fine if Satoru wasn’t constantly breathing down your neck about it. Especially when he does stupid things to challenge your ability – absentmindedly burning himself on a lighter when he hits a joint, sucking in bruises into your skin that turn dark purple. You’re able to heal it all, but he knows you’re capable of more.

“C’mon. Hit me again.”

“You won’t even let me hit you!”

“Maybe you aren’t trying hard enough. I even let my Infinity down for you.”

Truthfully, Satoru lets his Infinity down for you all the time. It’s as easy as breathing to be around you, and he knows you don’t have the capacity to harm him. There’s a nasty thought in the back of his mind that festers every time he thinks about how much his skin longs to be in contact with yours. That someday, this fact will come back to bite him in the ass, that maybe he’s letting his guard down too much.

But that’s a problem for another day.

You groan in frustration. Satoru’s had you in his backyard for at least two hours, attempting basic combat with cursed energy. Despite claiming that he wants to train you to at least be able to fend for yourself, you think he just enjoys playing with you like a dog. 

“Why are we even doing this?” you complain.

“Even if you don’t end up a big-shot sorcerer, I feel like you should still be able to exorcise a curse,” he shrugs. You’re winded and Satoru looks more than fine. Even after all the athletics, he doesn’t have a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his T-shirt. 

“But my technique is for healing.”

“You have incredible cursed energy output, though,” Satoru says. “It’s why I could never believe you were just a Window.”

The flicker of Satoru’s cursed energy brightens, you notice. You blink and see a dark figure emerge from the side of the house. One with fox-like eyes and a warm smile.

“Satoru! What have you done to our girl?” Suguru bellows. He holds a bag of daifuku in hand, giving you one without asking before Satoru grabs the package greedily. 

“You know I like roughing her up,” Satoru shrugs. “She’s a big girl, she needs to be able to scare away creepy men, y’know?”

“Like who, you? You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here, dumbass,” you chastise. 

“You could never get rid of me, Twigs.” He grins despite the cheekful of mochi. You and Suguru share a look of distaste. 

Satoru agrees to a snack break, if only to eat most of the daifuku while you make tea for the three of you. Suguru helps you prepare and clean up. It surprises you.

“Thank you, Geto-san.”

He tells you to call him by his first name and you try to convince yourself it’s nothing.

For some reason, Satoru is more rambunctious than usual. He almost always is whenever Suguru is around as if he’s waiting impatiently for something to happen. Waspish. Suguru often calls him a little brat. It’s nothing you could ever say to him, not in a way that has the same meaning. He’s the only one who can tame the beast. Satoru sees Suguru as his other half. Where one goes, the other follows. 

In the grass, they are an ouroboros of limbs as they brawl. Milky flesh flushed pink, gruff grunts and giggles. You imagine yourself between the two boys. You wonder about the taste of Suguru’s skin. If Satoru knows. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did. 

You watch them in awe. Two godlings entwined. 

It’s not enough to want to be in between them — and you know better, because you will never be them. 

“Tap out, Sugu,” Satoru whines. “I’m bored. Let’s train Twigs again.”

“She clearly doesn’t want to,” Suguru remarks, pushing Satoru off like a pest. He wipes the sweat off his forehead with his shirt, exposing his abdomen underneath. You feel like you should look away. “You like sitting in the audience, right, princess?”

Satoru grins at your reaction to princess. You hope the idea of calling you that himself doesn’t get into his head. 

“C’mon, Suguru. Throw her one of your curses. Maybe something without too many legs. She hates those.”

“Absolutely not,” you interject, crossing your arms.

“Okay, then heal me,” Suguru chuckles. He shows you a scratch on his forearm. “This motherfucker fights like a cat.”

“Acts like one, too,” you grumble. “A very annoying one that always wants attention.”

You heal him within seconds and he’s good as new. He holds your hand after, just for a moment. When you blink towards Satoru’s direction, he drops it. 

“You staying for dinner?” Satoru asks. He doesn’t look at you. He isn’t asking you. His gaze is on Suguru instead. 

“Nah, I promised Shoko I’d help her get decorations for the party on Friday,” Suguru answers. He turns to you. “You’re coming, right?”

“Uh—”

“To Shoko’s birthday party. I thought she invited you.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you shrug. Satoru is quiet, pretending to be distracted by his phone. “Satoru?”

“Oh, huh?” He looks up, feigning oblivion. “Yeah. You should come.” 

Maybe he’d forgotten to tell you about it. You swear he has some form of ADHD from how scatterbrained he is. 

Then again, you think about all the time you spend with Satoru. You’re always alone with him, with Suguru as an occasional buffer when he wants to be. The thought of Satoru’s arm around you at a party excites you. Would he hold your hand? Would he introduce you to other people?

“It’ll be, uh, here,” he mutters. “At nine.”

Oh.

“The theme is Scorpio, so wear something hot and dark,” Suguru winks. 

“A sexy little number with a bunch of legs and a stinger, too,” Satoru quips.

satoru: skip next period with me

satoru: wanna kiss u

One thing you’ve known about Satoru since he was a child is that he is annoying when he doesn’t get attention. 

You keep to yourself during the school day, not bothering to see him for lunch in the courtyard like you do every other day. You ignore his texts. You don’t look at him in class.

It’s the same behavior towards him from the last semester. But that was before he started fucking you. When he sears his gaze into your head during class and you don’t even bother to look up, he feels fucking insane. Of course, he won’t rest until he corners you.

He finds you later under a tree, cradled by roots. You look so peaceful that he almost feels bad about interrupting you, but he’s been bereft of your attention all day.

“You done giving me the silent treatment yet?” His voice booms above you. He tilts his head at you coyly. Hands shoved in his front pockets. 

You squint up at him from your position, startled by his arrival. You’re attempting to read your book in the grass, which isn’t half-dead yet. You don’t say anything as he sits besides you and fiddles with a clementine in his large hands. He peels the skin and feeds you a slice. 

“Wow,” Satoru scoffs, only mildly affronted. “So you’ll take my snacks but not text me back.”

“You offered,” you shrug. 

You let him kiss your neck, feather-soft as he pushes your hair to your back. You stay still and continue to read, despite his distractions. You try to blame the shiver down your spine on the cool gust of wind that passes and not Satoru’s tongue on your skin. He’s obnoxious when he indulges, especially when it comes to you.

“Are you mad at me?” he whines in your ear. Teeth on your earlobe.

“No.”

“Yes, you are,” he grins. “That’s why you’ve been ignoring me all day. What is it, baby? Wanna sit on my face about it?”

You roll your eyes, even though heat flashes in your center at his vulgar words. Satoru never took you seriously, even when you were kids. It seemed that he wasn’t going to start even now that you’re intimate together.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the party?” you ask. 

He looks at you and raises a brow, casually slipping another clementine slice into his mouth. He shrugs.

“Slipped my mind, I guess.”

“You’re hosting it, Satoru. You didn’t think to tell me?”

“I’m sorry. I just assumed you’d be there anyway since it’s at my house. It didn’t occur to me that you needed a formal invitation.”

It’s ironic. Because of all people, you would understand what it’s like to be separate from others, and he knew that. You never belonged anywhere, therefore you could never assume you were welcome. You were only at the Gojo residence because his family allowed you to be. You’re around Satoru all the time because he lets you. 

While Satoru has had his fair share of teenage hedonism, with Suguru and Shoko, you were never a part of it despite your proximity to his family. He always prefers you alone.

It stings. You wonder if he knows or if he’s just careless. You assume Satoru has never had to care about anyone other than himself, anyway. 

Unfortunately, he’s good at soothing your wounds.

You try to resist him, but it ends with you wrestling him to the ground when he tries to touch your thigh. His arms are pinned above his head and he groans when you grind against him. Already, he’s half-hard.

“Look at you,” Satoru whistles. “Brave girl.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me. You know how.”

You glare at him. You know that he’s taunting you to get what he wants. You also know that trying to resist him makes his dick even harder. 

He squirms in your grasp for a second, chuckling as you struggle with him. He can overpower you, easily. He’s arrogant enough to, but he’s enjoying your irritability at the moment. 

His laugh makes you tick, makes you claw at the front of his slacks and unzip them to palm his hard cock. You slide down his briefs to swirl your tongue along his slit, tasting salt.

“Jesus,” Satoru moans, surprised.

You’ve barely started, but it’s easy for you to work your hand up and down his shaft because of how wet he already is. It would fill your chest with pride if you weren’t so pissed off with him. 

You choke on his length when he bucks his hips up. He mumbles an apology when he feels your hand grip his hip. His grunts spur you on, as do his praises, the growl of his words arousing you. Satoru tries to grab a fistful of your hair but you swat him away.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I can’t believe – shit – you’re sucking me off in public. What’s gotten into you?”

“You talk too much,” you mutter, sliding him out of your mouth and replacing it with your hands. You feel him twitch in your palms. He’s writhing – a young god underneath you. For once, you feel a little powerful.

“You little slut,” he hisses. “Fucked you so many times that I’ve completely defiled you.”

“God, I might just sit on your face to get you to shut the fuck up.”

He moans at that. He could flip you over and fuck you senseless with how strong he is, but he doesn’t care to. When your mouth latches onto his cock again, he doesn’t care about anything except your tongue.

When you squeeze the base of him tightly, Satoru fucking whines.

“Fuck, fuck– I’m so close. Wait, stop–”

He pulls at your hair but you continue, sloppily lapping at him with your hot tongue, making him shudder. 

“Baby, wanna be inside you–”

Too damn bad.

You can tell how close he is because of his inability to speak. Instead, it’s heavy breaths, chest rising and falling as he grips your hair harder than before. The sound of his groans makes your cunt ache. 

“Oh, fuck–”

And then you let go of him. 

He stares at you in disbelief. Something surges inside him – a flame. It isn’t exactly anger. Perhaps something more devious. He really wants to ruin you now. 

Your mouth is red and raw. You blink at Satoru, half-expecting him to lash out. In his own way, he does, with his tongue down your throat and his hand around your neck. There’s a flash around you. When you open your eyes, you’re in his bed. 

You whine when he tugs your blouse down roughly, his teeth biting into your shoulder hard. Canines breaking skin. You’re all red for him, flushed and dripping. 

“Satoru!”

“Payback,” he mutters, before pushing you onto your side. His cock is still hard. It throbs against you as he slides it in between your thighs. He can feel you through your panties, how wet you are for him.

“I’m not mad at you for edging me,” he murmurs into your ear. He grips your hair like before, forcing your neck to stretch, all exposed for him. “Did you know I used to dream about you sucking me off outside like that? On school grounds?”

“You’re such a fucking pervert,” you rasp.

“Me?” he laughs. It feels unkind. “You’re the one who was gagging on my cock after ignoring me all day. How is that any sort of punishment?”

“Because I didn’t let you cum.” You grit your teeth.

“So mean,” he taunts. You squeal when he reaches underneath your skirt and presses a finger onto your sensitive clit, pinching. “I’ll make you cum. Might not let you stop cumming.”

He slides your panties to the side and fucks you with your back to his chest. Satoru intends to keep his promise, but he can’t exactly do that when he’s so fucking close. Your edging him had him riled up, a fever with aching limbs.

He splits you open like this. Deeper than usual, curiously, despite this being a recurrent position of yours. Satoru thinks about you ass up and face down, whining into the mattress. For now, he likes spooning you. It’s lazy and rough at the same time.

He holds out like he means to – makes you cum on his cock twice before he spills himself onto the backs of your thighs. You don’t let him kiss you once during it, your last form of protest. He settles himself by biting at your neck like a wolf taking a lamb. He eats your cunt for a while, too, licking up your sweetness down to the last drop until you’re begging him to stop.

When you both lay there in silence, Satoru thinks it’s odd how quiet you are. He thought that he fucked the attitude out of you by now, but when he turns his head to meet yours, you’re staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

He means the sex, so you shake your head. You aren’t sure what to make of the gaping cavern inside of your chest after it, though—still feeling separate from him despite being intertwined. 

“You could do anything you wanted to me and I think I’d let you.”

He’s quiet. He hates that hearing it turns him on because this isn’t pillow talk. He isn’t sure what it is.

“You like that, don’t you?” you ask softly. You turn to face him now, your eyes dim. 

He does. He wants to possess you, hold you in the palm of his hand so no one else can. So no one else will. But he doesn’t answer you, only swallows the lump in his throat.

“I like you,” Satoru breathes. He wants to keep you. He’s selfish like that.

“I like you, too, Satoru,” you say. 

You sound almost dejected. He doesn’t pry. 

[ryebread0605]

please please I beg you Jamil with a fetish for corruption please

Damn yall really got me exposing my kinks publicly lmao

I will warn, this could be read as dubcon so be aware! Continuing to read means you acknowledge this (as, in this, the reader is innocent towards sexual matters)

with that out of the way, enjoy!

You were a breath of fresh air in Night Raven College. Soft spoken, kind to everyone, and as sweet as honey. Your smile could make even Sebek smile back, even with his hatred of humans. But the one person who had his eyes on you the most was Jamil Viper.

To him, you were everything he wished he could have. Someone who had spent countless nights fixing up dishes for Kalim, someone who came to every one of his games and cheered him on (sure, you were cheering on the whole team, but you cheered for him the loudest in his mind). You represented a light in his life that he wanted. 

So why then did he sit here thinking of you in such crude ways? Why did he think of the sight of you beneath him, eyes blurred with tears of pleasure causing makeup to run down your perfect skin? Thoughts of you shaking and begging for more, not understanding fully what he’s doing but knowing you want more of it. He had to have you. He had to be the one to teach you. 

When an opportunity presented itself one night as the two of you were cooking for tomorrow’s party, he couldn’t let the chance go to waste. He started small, his hand lingering a bit too long over yours, soft brushes against your backside, pressing himself a bit closer than normal to you. You noticed but thought nothing of it as his movements had changed drastically since the day you met him.

But he couldn’t let you think it was a simple coincidence. He needed to let you know it was all intentional. He needed to give you a chance to reject him. To think long and hard about what you wanted to do about this. So he moved his hand to your knee, his fingertips sliding over your stockings, the lightest caresses. Your skin was soft and warm, and he just wanted to touch more of you. He needed to touch more of you.

“(Name),” he began softly, whispering into your ear, “aren’t you warm with all those layers on?” 

The question barely seemed out of place to you, it was quite warm in the kitchen afterall. So, with a bit of a nod, you slipped the cardigan you had on off of your arms and placed it neatly over the chair nearby. Jamil smirked at this, the look of pure innocence in your eyes only made the fire in his stomach grow more. 

He had to see more.

And so, a few minutes later as you turned towards him with the spatula he asked for, he ‘accidentally tripped’ and spilt vanilla extract down the front of your white button up school uniform top.

“Oh Sevens (name), I’m so sorry I’ll try to get it out” he knew full well what he was doing as he rubbed the stain further into the shirt, using the opportunity as a chance to feel your chest a bit. As the stain spread, he continued to fake being apologetic of the ‘accident’. 

“I’m so sorry (name), I’ll grab you one of my shirts and clean that one right away” he hated having to pretend and lie to you in the same way he had to lie and pretend to Kalim but in this case, he was actually gaining something from it. 

A soft laugh came from you as you simply smiled and unbuttoned your shirt, “it’s alright Jamil! Accidents happen, I’ll just be more careful next time!” He couldn’t believe his eyes as you innocently lay the shirt on top of your cardigan, now left in just a bra. He thought the most he would see was you in one of his shirts, and now he couldn’t ignore the tight feeling of his pants.

Sensing his discomfort, you turned to him and tilted your head, “is everything alright Jamil?” A thought, one so perverted and wrong, formed in his mind as a smile made its way to his lips, “actually my dear, I have a bit of a problem. And since you caused it, would you be the one to help me solve it?”

And that’s how you found yourself here, kneeling in front of him as he guided your head gently to take his cock in your mouth. It was a foreign feeling to you, but the praises he gave you made something inside you want more. And the way you looked up at him with those big, adorable eyes made him struggle to hold back. He knew he had to take it slow, and right now this was more than enough. 

He talked you through how to suck him off right, telling you which parts made him feel best and where to put your hands. The feeling of your warm mouth around his cock was heavenly, his head thrown back in pleasure and low groans of pleasure coming from his lips. 

“Just like that, you’re so good for me (name), just a little more~” he ran his fingers through your hair gently before suddenly pushing your head all the way down, a muffled gasp coming from your lips as hot ropes of cum poured down your throat before he pulled your head off his now not as hard cock. The way your tongue lolled out of your mouth when you softly panted, his cum dribbling down your chin, your eyes staring right at him, Sevens it was addicting to see. 

“Now my dear, it’s my turn to show you how good things can feel~”

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

patience and pleasure pt 5

summary: the morning after the party, paige and azzi grapple with their feelings. as they navigate the aftermath of their shared moment, both struggling to read each others' emotions and define their relationship.

cw: fluff, slight angst.

disclaimer: everything i write is fictional, any and all similarities to real life is not intensional.

word count 4.7k +

author's note: ik yall are fed up with my melodramatic ass i’m sorry 😭

paige's pov:

the morning light through my blinds is harsh and telling. the events of last night flood my mind. slow dancing in the street, pleading her to hear me out.

i remember everything.

the hurt in azzi's eyes, gentle and hopeful. her kiss on my forehead felt more like a goodbye than anything else. a rush of embarrassment courses through me. all my desperation for nothing.

years of carefully towing the line between friendship and something more, all undone by my alcohol fueled vulnerability. this wasn't to say i didn't mean it, though. i felt a strange relief that night, even if she hadn't believed me, it felt good to finally get it off my chest.

i should text her and apologize.

my fingers hover over the screen, debating what i should say. what do i even tell her after all of this? i'm left without words, everything i've ever wanted to say, was said last night.

the words i want to type burn in my throat: "i meant every word i said."

but i can't bring myself to do it. the memory of azzi's pained expression, filled with a slight pity. her gentle rejection, while seemingly reluctant, stops me cold.

what if i tell her i remember and it ruins everything? what if my honesty costs me the most important person in my life?

my chest tightens, an anxiety builds between my ribs. and to make matters worse, i'm definitely hungover from last night.

maybe it's better if i just pretend i forgot.

the thought of denying my feelings feels like a betrayal—both to azzi and to myself. i've spent years hiding my feelings, making them smaller, more manageable. but now that they're out in the open, how can i possibly go back from that?

my mind races with possible messages to send her, each one feeling like a step backward. maybe this is what she wants? maybe azzi doesn't feel the same and was just trying to spare my feelings? give me an out, an opportunity to forget and move on.

she wouldn't let me tell her i was in love with her.

the phrase still lingers on my tongue, catching in my throat. i need to think logically here, but my mind is fuzzy and filled with what-ifs.

the next few days blur together in a haze of anxiety and embarrassment. every time my phone buzzed, my heart skipped a beat, hoping it was her.

i tried everything to keep my mind off of her. i spent hours on the court, lobbing up the ball. my performance was lacking, my body reflecting my mind. i ran drills until my legs burned and my lungs ached.

i couldn't outrun my feelings.

i prayed that god would save me from this. give me the right words, the courage to speak to her. i begged god to take her away from me if it wasn't meant to be.

every time i closed my eyes to pray, i saw her face.

i had a few days between the end of the season and training camp, so i went back home to minnesota. packing away all of my emotions in a carry-on bag. thinking that if i pretend to forget long enough, maybe i really will.

i can leave everything here, all of my mistakes, left behind in storrs.

i should be happy to see my family, especially after so long. i've missed them immensely, but as we greet each other, my mind still wanders to her.

"welcome home, paigey!" drew calls from the driveway, standing between my mother's legs. my heart aches, he's gotten taller since i last saw him.

"hi guys," i greet them both, my voice steadier than i felt. they helped me carry my bags into the house. it came naturally to them, after years of supporting me through tournaments and travel. but this time was different. this time, they were carrying more than just clothes and basketball shoes.

deep within those zippers—the heartache, the regret, my unspoken truth. everything i tried to leave behind.

the weight of my baggage laden on my family's shoulders.

the rest of the day, we fall into a familiar rhythm. mom's home-cooked meals, drew's relentless teasing, the comfort of my childhood bedroom. it was easy to slip back into the role of their little girl, a hometown prodigy, untouched by my mistakes of today. it's almost enough to make me forget about everything.

but during family dinners, i'd zone out, wondering what azzi was doing. checking her socials, even though i knew she wouldn't post. was she thinking of me? did she miss me? was this killing her too? i felt guilty for being so absent-minded from my family but i couldn't stop it.

they're my family but azzi was my home.

i went to bed feeling heavy. our days of no contact burdening my heart. it's the worst at night; i haven't been able to sleep much.

the darkness of my childhood bedroom felt suffocating. the walls closing in on me with the momentum only fear brings. my sheets tangle between my legs as i toss and turn. the bright red numbers of my alarm clock taunt me, blinking with expectation.

2:17 AM. i stared at the ceiling. my room so dark, i couldn't tell if my eyes were open.

i miss her voice.

the way she'd whisper to me in the dark of my bedroom. her words like a blanket, soft and heavy.

3:34 AM. i grab my phone, scrolling through our last text. my thumb twitches over her contact.

i miss her touch.

the calmness she carries in her fingertips. the way she ordered my body with just the stillness of her hands.

4:22 AM. i tuck my knees into my chest, burying my head between them. without her, i feel like a kid again.

i miss her eyes.

a knowing spark that glistened at me occasionally, cutting through her poised resolve. the way her eyes lightened when it caught flickers of sunlight, my little pool of honey.

caught in the small space between her eyelashes, i drifted to sleep. it'd only been an hour or two when i heard my phone ding. reflexively, my heart races, hoping it's her.

i reach for my phone, my heart stopping for a moment as i read the text. 

surprise hits me first. azzi's family had always been like a second family to me, but her timing is insane.

then comes a wave of dread. would it be weird? azzi and i haven't spoken in three days, not that i've been counting. our last interaction burned in my mind. does azzi even want me there? had she told her parents what happened?

hope flutters in my chest. maybe this is a chance to mend things, to be normal for a night. the thought is interrupted by a creeping sense of doubt in my gut.

what if azzi doesn't even know i'm invited?

my fingers hover over the keyboard. part of me wants to accept immediately, desperate for any connection to azzi. but another part of wants to decline, to shield myself from confrontation.

as a middle ground, i like the message. giving myself time to debate my decision. this dinner invitation feels like a crossroads. whatever i decide, it could change everything. again.

azzi's pov:

the familiar creek of the third step on the staircase takes me back. my grandparents' house held a special place in my heart. maybe it was the cozy 70's bohemian style that carried through their decor.

maybe it was the fact that it's only twelve minutes from paige's house.

i've been waiting for her to reach out first. after that night, after everything she said, i didn't know where her head was.

god, i feel awful.

i let my fear shut her down. i should have let her finish, should've told her i feel the same. she tried to tell me she's in love with me, words i'd been dying to hear since we were fifteen.

i tried to keep my mind off it, but the guilt was eating me alive. i threw myself into anything else, impatient to relieve this feeling.

i spent hours with my headphones on, letting the music drown out my thoughts.

but every song was about her.

the lyrics distorted to say her name, echoing through the cavern of my heart. i heard her soft breath between beats, real and steady. guitar chords mimicking the hum of her content.

when the silence became too much, i read for hours. clinging to the words on the page, desperate for them to take me away from this reality. i'd almost finished two whole books in the span of three days.

but every story mirrored our own.

i was living between the pages of my favorite romance novels. the missed connections and unspoken tension, all much too real to bring me any comfort.

every distraction felt hollow in comparison to my guilt. a persistent shadow, clouding everything i do.

the happiness that i used to find so easily, died on her lips that night.

the afternoon sun filtered through my curtains, i set the table, getting ready for dinner.

"azzi?" my mom calls from the kitchen while washing the dishes. "i was thinking you and grandma can make some of those chocolate chip cookies paige loves," her voice nonchalant.

my heart flutters when i hear her name, and before i can say anything, she continues. "i invited her over for dinner tonight," she says smiling.

paige. here. tonight. as in a few hours from now, tonight.

"what?" i choke out, my mind racing.

my mom misreads my panic for excitement. "i've missed her, you remember all the summers she's spent here," she says, looking back down at the dishes.

how could i possibly forget?

i sprinted back upstairs, my thoughts spinning. she was going to be here. sitting at my dining room table, looking as beautiful as always. after everything that happened.

i imagined all the different ways tonight could go. what if she doesn't want to see me? what if i ruined everything?

i hope she meant everything she said.

my thoughts shifted to my appearance. if tonight really was going to be the night i finally open up to her, i needed to look nice. i tear through my closet, clothes littering my floor.

i settle on a soft pink sweater. she once told me she liked the fabric, she'd run her fingers down my spine melodically.

maybe she'd reach out to touch me tonight.

my hands shake slightly as i apply my mascara. i fan out my eyelashes, i wanted her to look at me. when i get to my lipgloss, i'm reminded of her. all these little moments we'd share, carried a new heaviness after her confession. i dab a bit of concealer under my eyes, hoping to create an illusion of peace i don't feel.

i stare at myself in the mirror, imagining finally meeting her eyes. rehearsing what i might say to her.

"i'm sorry. i should've let you finish. i feel the same way."

the words blend together in my head, like a mantra. i'm going to get it right this time.

i take a deep breath, attempting to steady my heart rate. tonight could change everything, for good this time. if she remembers, if she still wants me, i'm hers.

i'll tell her everything.

i hear a car door slam outside. she's here. a combination of fear and hope stirs in my stomach. we can make things right.

i run down the stairs to open the door. our eyes lock, and my world falls away from me. there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, looking just as vulnerable as she did that night. her lips parted slightly, the ghost of her confession haunting her expression. her eyes soften, just for a second, before she catches herself.

"hey, az," she says, her voice a little too casual. "it's been a while."

we hug awkwardly, our bodies stiff with the burden of unspoken words. "yeah," i say into her shoulder. i'm upset with myself, i still can't find the words.

instead, i just hold her a bit tighter. a firm grip on her shirt, i feel her heartbeat race against my chest. for a moment, i think she might pull away, but then i feel it—her finger, tracing down my spine, dancing over my vertebrae through the soft fabric of my sweater.

just when i begin to melt into her touch, she pulls back, holding me at arm's length. when we part, there's a soft pink flush in her cheeks that wasn't there before. she flashes me an awkward smile, raising her eyebrows slightly, before leaving to greet my family.

does she remember? is this her way of telling me?

we held on for a moment too long, our embraces lingering past the point of a casual greeting. i'm left standing right where she left me, my skin still tingling where she'd touched. the motion of her fingers, like morse code on my spine, a message i'm desperate to decode.

i watch as she effortlessly charms my family, slipping back into the role as their favorite. the floor buzzes underneath my feet with an undercurrent of tension.

paige belongs here, she always has.

at dinner, we sit next to each other, our elbows almost touching. i swear these chairs were not this close together when i set the table.

as everyone settles in, an uncomfortable silence falls upon the table. i catch my dad shooting my mom a look, gesturing for her to say something. she returns the look, annoyed, then looks down at her plate. she opens her mouth to speak but my grandma cuts her off.

"azzi, honey, you never bring any nice boys around. haven't met anyone special yet?" she smiles between mouthfuls.

boys? huh.

paige nearly chokes on her food, a smirk flickering across her lips. regaining her composure, she glances at me, holding in a laugh. her eyes are wide, filled with anticipation, eager for my response.

she can't help herself, chiming in, "yeah, azzi. no cute boys catching your eye?" her voice drips with mock innocence. i catch her tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek, a gesture of pure arrogance. she tilts her head to the side, eyes searching my face.

god, she looks hot when she's being cocky like this.

"i been...busy. you know how it gets in college," i avoid her eyes, careful not to let my thoughts show. but inside, i'm screaming.

i do have someone special. she's sitting right next to me.

my grandma doesn't let up, clearly amused by the topic. "come on, a pretty girl like you? what about that nice boy from the men's team?"

i feel a heat burn through my face, spreading down my neck. i bounce my leg anxiously, trying to find a way to change the topic.

she continues, "i'm just saying, honey. love is a beautiful thing." her eyes shift to paige now. "you shouldn't let it pass you by," she examines our response.

i look up to meet her eyes, attempting to speak up again, when i feel it suddenly. paige's hand rests on my thigh, a bit higher than my knee, slowing my nervous shake to a stop. the placement feels almost suggestive, more intimate than our usual touch.

my breath catches for a moment, and i become aware of the warmth of her palm against my skin. she speaks with her hands, for the second time tonight, stroking her thumb in a sweet, yet somewhat possessive gesture. she gives me a reassuring squeeze before speaking up.

"she brings me around, am i not special, grandma fudd?" paige interjects, pouting; her voice playful but sincere.

she speaks with intention and a hint of something—protection? possession?

my grandma's face lights up like this was the reaction she's wanted the whole time. "oh, of course you are, sweetheart." her eyes darting between us, "i've always thought you two share something very...unique."

the way she says the word 'unique' makes my stomach flip. had she seen it all this time? had everyone seen it? were we the last two to notice?

paige's hand remains on my thigh, a comforting weight. i cover her hand with mine, squeezing gently. a silent thank you.

the rest of dinner goes smoothly, chatting about old memories and stories. i'm desperate to know what's going through paige's mind. i notice the little things:

the way our hands brush when she passes me the salt, our fingers meeting for a moment too long.

the stolen glances when she thinks i'm not looking. the way her eyes flutter when i catch her looking.

how she stumbles over her words when they ask about our last hangout, avoiding eye contact.

the way she tenses up when our knees touch underneath the table, but she doesn't move away.

each moment is a contradiction of the last. her actions are a slow waltz—a push and pull between familiarity and distance. by the end of the night, i'm convinced she remembers. but something inside her keeps pushing it away.

i don't wanna pretend anymore.

after a few hours of this, i know i can't let this continue for much longer. we need to talk, really talk. and soon.

paige's pov:

"can we talk?" azzi's voice is soft and hesitant. my heart skips a beat, a familiar palpitation i've felt around her for years.

i nod, following her up the familiar stairs to her childhood bedroom. the staircase is lined with family photos, filled with memories i've been trying so hard to forget—or pretend to forget.

how can i truly forget when azzi's smile in these pictures makes my chest tighten? she's been missing from my heart for years, it swells at the thought of her.

azzi shuts the door behind us gently, my eyes scan her bedroom. it hasn't changed much, still leaking with her personality. her bedroom walls are covered in photos of us, a tapestry of memories.

i catch sight of an old film camera. azzi's grandma had given it to us right before i moved to storrs. the sight of it brings a rush of emotions from that night i'm not prepared for.

"you still have this?" i ask, lifting the camera. it feels heavier than i anticipated, or maybe i just feel weak under azzi's gaze.

she unravels me in just a few blinks.

her eyes soften, "yeah, of course. we used to take that thing everywhere."

my heart aches at the memory—taking the camera to games, practices, summer trips. i liked the challenge of capturing her beauty between tiny frames of film. though, no photo could ever truly capture the extent of her allure, i had fun trying. i'll always be her photographer, and she'll always be my perfect model.

"do you remember the first roll we ever shot on here?" i tilted the camera, my voice softer than i intended.

"yeah," she says, pointing to a set of photos on the left side of her wall.

i lean in to look at a photo of myself, mouth full of azzi's grandmas' cookies. i'm smiling at the camera, my happiness driven by azzi standing on the other side of the lens.

we were so young.

as i look at the photo, memories flood back. azzi watches my expression, noticing my composure change. "we captured some good memories that night..." she trails off, deep in thought.

like our first kiss.

that was probably one of the best decisions i've ever made. the memory washes over me, warm and bittersweet. the softness of her lips, the slight tremor in her breath. we were so young, so nervous, yet so sure in that moment.

it was simple then. our feelings existed in the small space between our lips, protected from the outside world. i didn't have to put words to the flutter in my chest or the warmth in my cheeks.

loving azzi was as natural as breathing, just as essential too.

i miss the simplicity of it all. i could love her without the burden of expectation. i'd prove it to her eagerly, in everything i did. holding her hair back when she drank too much. folding her clothes cause she hated doing laundry. reading her favorite books, desperate to understand her mind.

our love was in the details—the way she'd adjust my form in practice, save the last of her favorite snacks for me, read to me so i could fall asleep.

loving her has always been the easiest thing. it's everything else that's gotten so complicated.

i want someone, something to blame for this. is this just how things get as you age? the simplicity of love becoming frustratingly far away. maybe it was time, the pressure of sports, or maybe this was bound to happen. maybe we were always meant to put words to these feelings—to call it out boldly by it's name.

maybe it's time.

everything from that night reappears in my mind, this time under a different lens. the thoughtful box of memories azzi gave me that night—had she felt the same way all this time?

i glance at azzi, noticing a sudden change in her expression. she looks like she's just remembered something important, her eyes widening slightly. she starts to pick at her fingers nervously, avoiding eye contact.

"hey, paige?" azzi asks, still looking down at her hands. "did you ever finish that book i gave you that night?" her voice brimmed with nervousness. she radiated an emotion i couldn't quite place, clinging to my response like it will save her from her feelings.

i shake my head, feeling a little guilty. "not quite. i saved the last chapter."

i learned that from her actually. the way she cherished the things she loved, always saving them for the right time.

azzi's eyes light up, a mixture of relief and anticipation washing over her. "you should read it," she says quickly, her voice carrying an urgency that confused me.

she hesitates before continuing, her eyes closing for a moment in a long blink. "about the other night, when you said..."

my body goes cold. my drunken confession. i panic, the fear of confronting my feelings overwhelms me.

what if she's just trying to let me down easy? what if i misread everything?

"oh, yeah?" i force out a laugh. "i hope i didn't say anything too embarrassing, you know how i get when i drink."

i can't risk it again. i'm sorry, azzi.

azzi's face falls slightly, but she quickly masks it. her eyelids flutter, she stares at the floor. i can see the thoughts flickering through her mind. she sees right through me.

"no, no you weren't embarrassing," her voice lowering to a whisper. she locks eyes with me now, intent on making me hear her. "you were actually quite...poetic."

i'm no poet, i was just speaking from the heart.

i swallow hard, knowing she's giving me another opportunity. but i resist, remembering the pity in her eyes that night. "poetic, huh? that doesn't sound like drunk me at all," i joke weakly.

azzi narrows her eyes at me, tilting her head to the side. "you don't remember anything at all?" she questions.

i refuse to meet her gaze, "it's all pretty fuzzy, az."

i'm lying, and we both know it. but i can't bear to see that look of pity in her eyes again.

she takes a deep breath, clearly frustrated. she mutters an "okay" underneath her breath.

the sound of rain pattering against the window fills the silence between us. i hadn't even noticed the storm brewing outside, too caught up in the storm of emotions in this room.

"listen, it's getting late i should go," i say, my voice strained like i'd been screaming, even though i hadn't said anything at all.

as i turn to leave, azzi calls out, her voice soft yet determined. "paige, you can talk to me...when you're ready."

god, she's still so sweet to me. i don't deserve it, not now.

i pause at the door, guilt coursing through me. i know she sees through my lie, knows i remember everything. she knew the moment i stepped foot into this house. she could see it in the softness in my eyes, feel it beneath my fingertips.

"thanks, az," i whisper, before walking down the stairs.

for a moment, i'm tempted. to stay, to talk, to finally be honest. but the fear of getting rejected again, of ruining what we have, is too strong.

katie stopped me as i headed for the door, "leaving already?" she looks a bit sad. "it's pouring out there, why don't you stay the night?"

and share a bed with azzi? after that conversation, absolutely not.

"thanks, but i'll be fine. it's not far," i insist, grabbing my keys.

as i head for the door, i catch a glimpse of azzi's face. hurt, confusion, and something else—disappointment?—flash across her features. but i can't stay.

i step out into the rain, letting it mask the tears threatening to leak out of my eyes. my hands shake as i fumble with my car keys, nearly dropping them in a puddle.

i'm doing the right thing.

the mantra echoes in my mind as i slide into the driver's seat, but it rings hollow. i grip the steering wheel, willing myself to believe it.

i can't let my feelings for her get in the way of our friendship. i'd be selfish to put my emotions over our relationship again. i'd be anything she wants me to be—even if that's just a friend.

i'm doing the right thing.

i turn the key into the ignition, reversing out of her driveway. the intensity of the storm matching the turmoil in my heart as i drive away, leaving azzi and the truth behind.

i can't be wrong again. i can't bear the thought of her letting me down easy, telling me she doesn't feel the same.

i'm doing the right thing.

back at home, my guilt eats its way through my stomach. a relentless ache that promises a sleepless night. my eyes drift to my nightstand, where a worn copy of looking for alaska rests- the book azzi gave me years ago.

sometimes when i'd sleepover at her place, i'd pretend like i couldn't sleep so she could read to me. her voice soothing like a lullaby, i lost myself between her breaths. heavy and melodic, her cadence became my cough syrup, drifting me to sleep.

i flip open to the final chapter, determined to finally finish the book. memories flood back, the way her words coated my thoughts, i can almost hear it now, as i start to read.

i've put this off for so long. terrified of the ending, the finality of a precious memory between azzi and i. saving the final chapter for the right moment. maybe that moment is now.

as i turn the last page, a small slip of paper flutters out. simple yet somehow charged with potential. i unfolded the paper, recognizing the handwriting immediately.

azzi.

my heart pounds as i begin to read. the first few words hook me in, something all too familiar. my breath quickens, my lungs expanding like i'm breathing for the first time.

i didn't need to find the words, she already had. years ago.

by the time i finish, my hands are shaking. the room spins slightly. in a strange paradox of emotions. her words lifted a weight from my chest, stirring a whirlwind of emotions. yet simultaneously, a new weight settles on my shoulders—the gravity of what i need to do now.

how long had this been there? sitting on my nightstand, packed in a suitcase, tucked into a bookshelf. how many times have i almost read this, almost known?

i guess we've both been hiding something.

i leaped from my bed, grabbing my keys, slamming the door behind me. i was exhausted seconds ago, but now, sleep is the furthest thing from my mind. i need to see her. to talk to her. to make it real.

we've wasted too much time already.

[thelikesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

AKA Talented Mutuals Tuesday

Except I spent so long making this list that the timezones changed over BUT I wanted to show my mutuals some love and now that we are going into the hiatus I thought you might all like a list of quality fics to keep you occupied while there is no new Weewoo show. 

I don't know if anyone will actually want to join in on this but if you do the rules are simple:

SHOW YOUR MUTUALS SOME LOVE! Share your favourite fics, (or gifs, edits, literally anything that your very talented mutuals have made), as many or as few as you like but let's share the love around <3

Apologises in advance for the long post btw

@speaknowdiaz I would literally read anything that April writes and would probably sell a limb for the incredible WIPs I know she's still cooking up but here are a couple of my faves:

pining and anticipation (I don't want you like a best friend)

Buck challenges Eddie to try to hit on him after teasing Eddie for not having any ‘game’. This fic is very funny and very soft.

believe in one thing (i won't go away)

This fic hit me straight in the feels. Buck and Eddie go to couples therapy even though they aren't a couple and they work through some stuff.

◊

@thosetwofirefighters Incredible amazing Nat ily xx

Say It All Out Loud

Eddie comes out to Aunt Pepa after his ‘date’ with Vanessa. I am a little bit biased towards this one because she did write it for me but it's honestly just so good!

How to Cure Boredom: Buckley Edition

The 118 are stuck at the firehouse during a slow shift and Buck entertains them all by mattress-surfing the loft stairs. It’s soft and silly and in the same universe as her other fic Safe in His Arms.

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@loveyourownsmiilee The wonderful amazing Juju not only writes incredible meta and keeps us all fed with Oliver content but Juju also writes wonderful buddie fic. 

When Were You Under Me?

Who doesn’t love a Friends AU. This is Buck and Eddie as Ross and Rachel and it is hilarious and so sweet. 

You should also check out her Buddie Language Meta if you have not read it before <3

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@elvensorceress Jenwyn’s work always astounds me so be sure to check these out:

Color Him Father, Color Him Love

I will scream from the rafters how much I adore this fic and yes it did make me cry (happy tears). It’s a look into Buck’s head after his sperm donor kid is born and he realizes what Christopher (and Eddie) truly mean to him. I know I have recced this before but it deserves all the love. 

Unless You Ask Me To

Eddie dates a man for the first time, and Buck is completely 'Fine'. This is a preemptive rec because it is one chapter away from completion and I have been saving it to binge in one sitting but knowing Jenwyn and her incredible talent I guarantee this will be worth the read. 

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@spotsandsocks If anyone’s work is guaranteed to make me sob like a baby (happy, sad, or tears of laughter) it’s Spotty. 

Everything But (temptation)

This is Spotty’s newest fic and it's just brilliant. Buck is practicing extreme self-control whilst Eddie is being an irresistible menace. 

Could Have, Should Have, Would Have

Buck finally tells Eddie he loves him right before Eddie’s new boyfriend is supposed to meet Christopher. Honestly, all I can say about this fic is that it’s a masterpiece and I screamed many times while reading it. 

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@shortsighted-owl Wonderful amazing Owly (Abbi). I appreciate you so and you make my dash so happy xx

Of foam-moustached kisses, and button combinations

For all your sweet domestic buddie needs this is the fic. Eddie is practicing a video game to get better than Chris and Buck makes fun of his ex-technophobe boyfriend. 

Also THIS EDIT SET to the lyrics of You’re All That I Have by Snow Patrol make me assdffgghjjklkll

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@lilbuddie Okay, this one is just a brag because Minja doesn’t actually have any fics published yet (side eye) but I wanna make sure she is on everyone’s radar for when she does because yall are not ready for the incredible amazing talent that is this girl’s writing!! So go check out the snippets on her Tumblr and badger her until she finishes something plssssss

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@wheelsupin-five Hi! <3

Almost Almost Almost

This adorable of Buck who is always cold and Eddie warms him up I– asfffghhjkklllll

Under Kitchen Light

SO SOFT! Buck wakes up and Eddie isn't there, Buck finds him in the kitchen. 

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@rogerzsteven Simi owns my heart and by that I mean my heart is locked in a cage in Simi’s basement where it is occasionally beaten to a pulp by the most incredibly angsty fics you've ever read.

Cleanse

Buck is extremely nauseous and Eddie takes care of him while I sob over them in a corner.

build me a home underground (free from light and sound)

This fic is so brutal in all the best ways, my heart was in my throat the entire read! Buck gets trapped in a sensory deprivation room while the 118 and Athena race to find him. 

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@ashavahishta another incredibly talented mutual of mine

out of ashes

Is it really a Meegs rec list if I don’t rec this fic honestly it's engraved on my soul. This is a criminal minds/greys inspired fic where Buck is kidnapped and tortured until the 118 can find him. This fic is so so well written and means a million things to me I could never explain but pleaseeeee read it!! 

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@jobairdxx hello lovely xx

Oh, We Pray to Make it Through the Night

Highly recommend this fic, I do love a near-death experience fic! Buck gets injured on a call and Eddie falls asleep holding vigil at his bedside. 

Jules also writes beautiful poetry on Tumblr so go read some of that too <3

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@monsterrae1 MISS RAE! YOU INCREDIBLE THING! <3

love is on its way

I know we’re all a little bit in mourning over the couch theory but it lives on in our hearts and in this fic which has six moments between Buck and Eddie on the Diaz couch (and she’s a wee bit spicy too).

Buck's café (take my heart, just not my order)

Coffee Shop AU. Buck runs the shop where the 118 order all their drinks on shift. I absolutely adore this fic! 

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@alyxmastershipper RYAN!! INCREDIBLY TALENTED MUTUAL THAT YOU ARE!! 

there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head

If “aasdsdfghhjkl” was a person it was me reading this fic. Eddie comes out to Buck, receives a quirky mug, and gets together with the love of his life. In that order.

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@bekkachaos Wonderful, amazing Bekka xxx

lose yourself in the feeling

I am a sucker for ‘accidental kisses’ and this was just wonderful. Buck is so excited about Maddie and Chim getting engaged that he kisses Eddie when he tells him. 

start me up, open my eyes

Okay, the mild sexual content tag is a lie, nothing has ever been closer to smut without actually being smut than this fic, I have never been so wound up reading a fic. Bekka builds the tension so so well. 

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@sibylsleaves honestly I'm still a little in shock that we're mutuals now so please excuse me while I fangirl over your incredible writing!

with a bird at your door

Eddie starts spending all his time with Buck. Which would be fine if it weren't for the fact that Buck is in love with him. This fic is the perfect mixture of pining, angst, and a happy ending. And yes I think about this fic frequently I love it okay. 

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@mysteriouslyyounggalaxy last but certainly not least (for now). hello lovely xx

(tell the gravedigger) better dig two

Missing scenes from while eddie is trapped in the well followed by the most perfect extended reunion scene. We all know I am a sucker for fics based on the well incident, it’s literally how i started writing for buddie but omg this fic!!!! 

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Remember to share the love around and happy hiatus to you all.

Love, Meegs xxxx

[astarionancuntnin]

Die For You

summary: the ascension changed the person Astarion was, or so you believed. you broke up and parted ways after defeating the netherbrain, thinking it was for the best, but when you see him again 6 months later at the reunion, you realize you never truly moved on.

and it seems neither did he.

rating: E

word count: 3.9k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader) (fic wide), shadowheart x you (chapter 1 specifically)

cw: 18+. angst, smut, porn with plot, porn with (some) feelings, ascended astarion, bad breakup, awkwardly avoiding your ex, alcohol induced sex, rebound sex (in the sense that youre trying to forget about your ex but you might have feelings for that other person too), oral sex, fingering, stalking, kidnapping, mild violence.

a/n: i have been working on this for over a month now, i have 2 other chapters also ready BUT im undecided on which ending i want for this, so yall get chapter 1 as a teaser, let me know whatcha think :eyes:

a/n²: this is the start of a long fic (my first one, phew)! i intend to update it weekly-ish, i GREATLY appreciate comments as it helps me test the waters on whats to come with it

Masterlist

read on ao3

next chapter

or keep reading down below~

I like (I like) what you like (what you like) Long hair (no bra) that's my type (that's right) You just told me, want me to fuck you Baby, I will 'cause I really want to

-

The ascension was complete. He actually went through with it. 7000 souls, gone. 

Astarion, The Vampire Ascendant.

He convinced you that it’s what was necessary. You thought this would bring him peace. It’s what he wanted. You loved him, and you would’ve gone to the ends of the world for him; in your eyes, after everything he'd been through, it's what he deserved.

“I can hear it at last, how all the lowly creatures of this plane are begging to serve.”

But now that it was done, you couldn’t tell if he was still him. If the vampire before you was still the same you spent that first night in the woods. That same one who admitted to have fallen for you. The same one who thanked you for taking a stand against Araj at Moonrise Towers. And if he wasn’t, who was he now? Did he have anything left from his previous self? And could you still love him if he didn’t?

"The world will stir in fear."

The walk back to camp that day was dreary. As Astarion walked ahead of everyone with his newfound confidence, you were dragging your feet behind the rest of your party. The weight of what you had done, slowly setting in. Your friends asked about your well-being and you reassured them all that everything’s fine! It was just a big day! And you simply couldn’t wait to finally rest. You didn’t have the heart to admit that you were regretting what you had encouraged Astarion to do.

Back at the Elfsong, you wave to your companions an early good night as you are heading to bed, before Astarion pulls you aside.

“My consort, we are so close to our triumph, I can almost taste it.” Even his tone was different. What you used to qualify as theatrical was now leaning towards dramatical.

You freeze and look at him dead in his eyes. Every part of you is looking for any proof at all that he was still himself. After all, you had no way to know if the 7007 souls sacrificed also included his own.

“I think we need to talk,” your voice comes out colder than intended.

“Little love, whatever could be the matter?”

“Just– what in the Hells happened to you in there?” The words come out of their own, tainted with sadness.

“It's quite simple, really: I became a better version of myself. The very best, dare I say. And I have no one else but you to thank for it.”

You cross your arms and evade his eyes, your shame for your actions creeping up on you. “I don’t feel great about it, honestly.”

“Well, what’s done is done, and there’s simply no point in dwelling on the past, is there?”

His disdain for the enormous sacrifice that was made makes you scoff, incredulous. “You’re nothing like the Astarion I knew before.”

“I know. I’m better, stronger than he ever was. Finally free of my past.” He smiles, satisfied. “I’m who I always wanted to be. I have everything I ever wanted, except you, by my side.”

His hand reaches out to you and you quickly understand the offer he’s making: to make you a spawn, his spawn. The whole situation is bittersweet to you; of course you’ve always wanted what he wanted, what was best for him, and you would've spent your lifetime with him in another context, but with how he turned out following the ascension, this future isn't something you can imagine yourself in. Now that this choice is given to you, you know better than to accept. 

You shake your head as you step back, “No… I won’t do it.”

He sighs, dropping his hand to his side, “Seems I misjudged you. I thought we might have a future together, eternity, even. Perhaps you’re not worthy.”

His condescending tone sparks a fury within you. “We’ll defeat the elder brain together. But after that, I want nothing to do with you,” you say as you try to contain the anger rising in your chest. His brows furrow, matching your energy. “So be it. You will regret leaving me, more than anything you live to regret.”

You give him one last angry look before walking to your bed, muttering to yourself as you feel tears swelling up. 

“I regret letting you go through with that damned ritual.”

—

You follow through with your promise. With the Netherbrain gone and your tadpoles vanished, nothing kept you together anymore. You parted ways with all your companions, going out on your own, wherever your next adventure guided you. Finally, a normal life, or something closer to it, anyway. You did miss most of them, for what it’s worth; you considered them your family. You often wondered how Wyll and Karlach were faring in the Hells, and how Lae’zel’s quest to take down Vlaakith was going; you even considered offering your help at one point, but after ending things with Astarion, you needed to be alone. The breakup hit you harder than you expected, it left your heart with a void. He looked happy following his ascension, so why couldn’t you be happy for him? Why was this so hard on you? It’s not something you had ever experienced in your past relationships, usually able to move to the next one rather quickly. You didn’t naturally get attached to people, you used to think that nothing lasts forever, and relationships weren’t an exception. This damned vampire proved to you once again that you were right, although you wished for once you weren’t. He took up all your thoughts, and you had to do something to wash him away.

You occupied your time best by helping people in need, taking bounties left and right, roaming the lands and fighting monsters. When you could afford it, you’d spend the night at the local inn, drinking to numb the feelings. On nights when you were most drunk, you ended up sharing someone else's bed, whoever proposed it to you on those nights. With the alcohol in your veins and your eyes closed, your mind let you believe that you were in his arms again. That it was all a bad dream, and you would wake up next to him, only to be hit by the harsh reality the next morning.

You did anything that you thought would help keep your mind busy. It did work for some time; as long as you were actively doing something – focused on the task at hand – you didn’t think about the past, but the moment night fell and you laid to rest alone, you were back at square one. 

You felt guilty about Astarion’s ascension. Guilty of the impact it had on him and your relationship, guilty of the power you let him have and the consequences that it meant. Even guilty of how you felt about it; it was a vicious cycle that plagued you.

It had been your one and only mistake. You let yourself be blinded by the rose-coloured glasses of your love for him, and although you meant well, you’re very conscious of the damage this decision had on him and potentially the city, but also the 7000 souls sacrificed in the process. Granted, they were already spawns and there was no way to save them from this fate, they could’ve at least have had a chance at living in the Underdark. Yes, you had saved the city – damages aside – lifted a curse, freed everyone and yourself from the Absolute, defeated the chosens of the Dead Three, bla bla bla, but your mind always drifted to Astarion’s fate. What if you had stopped him? Surely, your life would be different now. You would be roaming the streets with him, probably. Maybe living together in the Underdark. He would’ve stayed himself. You would’ve been… happier.

When you receive Withers’ invitation to the reunion, it’s the first time in months you’re actually happy, excited even, to see your friends at long last, but also anxious. Your mind drifts to the vampire you used to love. Would you see him at the reunion? Would he have changed at all? How has he been?

Did he still think about you, too?

Looking forward to the night, you treat yourself out to a nice outfit from the local seamstress. You settle on a simple, yet elegant, black long dress with an open back. The summer night is nice and fresh; you’re glad you went for a long sleeved dress. Your hair, which you decided to let down, also partially covers your exposed back, covering you from the breeze. You reach your old campsite to find out you’re the last to arrive, as you see all your friends already mingling. You decide to talk to Shadowheart first, as she was the one you missed the most, as you had grown particularly closer to her during your adventure. In another life, you would’ve been together, you think. You felt bad about not contacting her sooner, but her joy upon seeing you washes away all guilt. She greets you with a smile and a large embrace.

“Come here you! Gods, I missed you!”

You hold her tight, enjoying her strong hug. 

“Tell me everything! How have you been?”

“Oh you know, a few killings here and there, little shenanigans all around, I’m sure whatever you have to share is much more interesting.” You wish you could say something different, but your adventures really had been that bland. 

She rolls her eyes playfully at your deflection, “And how have you been feeling?”

“Greaaat, every day is a new adventure for me to discover.” You give a poor excuse for a laugh as an attempt to convince her.

She tilts her head forward and raises her eyebrow at you. She knew you better than you gave her credit for. “You know what I meant.” Her gaze points to the side behind you and you give a quick glance to see Astarion disdainfully looking at his surroundings, a silver cup in hand.

You sigh as you turn back to her, the facade falling at once. “I try not to think about it. I… hated what he became, and felt guilty about it. I did take part in it, I could’ve stopped it, but I didn’t.” You cross your arms, recollecting your thoughts. “But I’m starting to think that maybe I jumped to conclusions too quickly when I left him. I miss him and it’s… frustrating. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Seeing him again so soon is more difficult than I originally thought.”

“Did you talk to him?” “I was actually trying to avoid him,” you confess.

“And you think that's healthy?” “It's the only way I'll be able to move on.”

“And how’s that been going?”

“I–” You’re unable to answer her, the truth being that it was going horribly.

She grabs you by your shoulders, bringing your attention back to her, “Hey, you know if you need anything, I’ll be there for you.” You smile, sheepishly, as she brushes your hair behind your ear, softly cupping your cheek. “And if you’re looking for some company to take your mind off of a certain vampire, well, I would be glad to offer mine.” You get lost in her eyes, with her hand soft and warm against your skin. Her invitation is tempting, and your gaze falls on her lips as you speak up.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Come meet me when the party's over.” She smiles back, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before walking away. 

You spend the rest of the night catching up with all your friends, always keeping an eye on Astarion, who you notice has been eyeing you as well, as if he was expecting you to approach him, but you never do. You’re convinced nothing good will come out of it and even if you did talk, you’re not sure where you would even begin, so you keep your distance.

As the night settles down, you bid your close friends farewell and sneak out two bottles of wine to share with Shadowheart as she walks you to the inn she’d been staying at. The road is peaceful, and you reminisce about the past with the cleric, indulging in the leftover drinks you stole from the party. When you finally reach the inn, you're both a giggling and stumbling mess, empty bottles of wine still in hand as you enter her room.

As she closes the door behind her, you hear some patrons through the walls yell at you to shut up – it was late and your entrance had been pretty noisy – and you mockingly hush your friend, pressing a finger on her lips.

“Shadoooow, shhhhh” you whisper, your speech slurred. “You’re bothering people.”

“Oh, I’m bothering people? Care to remind me who stumbled their way up the stairs?” She says, laughing, her cheeks blushed by the alcohol.

“Hey– it’s not my fault their steps are so high and your room is so far,” you pout.

“Oh, my apologies,” she takes on a chivalrous tone. “Does my lady require assistance to reach her bed for the night?” 

You answer, matching her tone. “That would be most welcome, dearest.”

You squeal as she picks you up in her arms with an impressive strength, and carries you to the large bed. You giggle when she drops you off, and she leans over you.

“Is my lady satisfied with my service?”

You fail to keep a straight face when you answer. “Most definitely. Thank you, my liege.”

She smiles back softly before crashing next to you, both of you staring at the ceiling, taking in the first moment of silence of your night. A second later and your mind is already thinking about Astarion and you sigh heavily. Your companion instantly notices your change of mood.

“It’s him again, isn't it?”

You groan, grabbing your hair in frustration. “Was I wrong? To let him go through with that damn ritual? Why does he get to live his best life and I’m still feeling awful abo–”

She cups your cheek and pulls your face close to hers, cutting you off with a kiss. 

“How about we get to work on ‘forgetting about him’, hm?”

You nod slightly as you stare into her eyes, and she grins, her hand curling around your neck before crashing her lips against yours once again. You moan into the kiss, feeling the heat spread across your face and to your chest. Her kisses travel from your jaw down to your neck. She pulls your dress down, gradually exposing your flushed chest, before pulling back to take a good look at you, her own face matching your colour.

“You blush so beautifully.” Her voice is soft like velvet, each word making your heart pounce, as she continues to kiss her way down your navel, eventually discarding your dress on the floor.

You hide your face between your hands, trying to conceal the warmth coming from your cheeks and she comes back up to take your hands in hers, revealing your flustered state.

“You’re too pretty to hide yourself like that,” she reassures you with another kiss. “Let me admire you.”

You struggle to keep eye contact as one of her hands makes its way between your legs, teasing your entrance. Her fingers slide easily between your folds, earning her a moan out of you. She finds your clit and rubs you softly, your entire body twitching in reaction to her touch, and you shut your eyes to focus on the feeling, throwing your head back. Shadowheart takes this chance to trace the curve of your breast with her tongue, closing her mouth on its peak and sucking over it. Her tongue works wonders on you, and you whimper as she lightly bites you. 

“Keep singing for me,” She says between kisses, her voice thick with lust. “I love the sound of your voice.”

Her name on your lips is like a prayer as she ravishes your breast, leaving a few love bites over your chest. She pulls back temporarily to remove her own clothing before climbing back in bed, resting between your legs. You barely manage to raise yourself up when she pushes you back down against the bed.

“Lay down love, and let me take care of you. Just the way you deserve it.”

She throws your legs over her shoulders and kisses the inside of your thighs, leaving more love bites and she makes her way to your cunt. Her tongue finally finds its way between your folds and she laps at your juices, making sure to lick you clean.

“Gods, you taste divine.”

Her hands dig in your thighs as she devours you and you arch your back at the sensation, taking in the feeling of her tongue entering you. Your hips soon follow the movement, wanting more contact, and she takes the hint, moving to your clit to give it the attention it deserves. You whine when she enters you with a finger, and a second one, slowly thrusting into you, as her tongue circles your sensitive bud. Your chest rises higher and faster as your breathing quickens, and she knows you're close. Your eyes are long gone, but she looks up to you, admiring your state before she speaks up.

“Let it go, love. Come for me.”

She sucks once more on your clit, her fingers pushing harder against that sweet spot inside of you. You throw your head back, grabbing the bed sheets at your sides as you scream her name with the remaining air in your lungs and a crashing wave of sensations washes over you. For a moment, your mind goes blank, there's nothing but pure bliss. You want to stay like this forever; finally at peace, content. As you come down from your high, your legs give out and you pant excessively, trying to catch your breath.

You feel the bed shift beside you and open your eyes to see Shadowheart lazily making her way next to you.

“But– what about you?” you ask, breathless and tired.

“You don’t think I enjoyed myself just now?” She laughs and kisses you. “You’re simply adorable.” She cups your cheek lovingly, brushing your hair away. 

“Tonight was all about you. Plus, I doubt you'd be able to accomplish anything in the state you're in. You can always make it up to me another night,” she grins and boops your nose, smiling tenderly, before snuggling against you.

You watch her as she drifts to sleep next to you, moments before you cave into your own exhaustion. For the first time in months, you get a good, restful night of sleep.

When morning comes, you’re awakened by a god-awful headache, the consequences of last night’s drinking catching up to you. On the bright side, you find Shadowheart wrapped around you from behind, with her face nuzzled in your neck. You smile and hold on to her arm around your waist, linking your fingers with hers. She awakens soon after and greets you with kisses on your shoulder. You turn around to properly kiss her good morning, but the pain throbbing in your head has you groaning and holding your head instead. She catches on quickly and casts lesser restoration on you, fixing your headache instantly.

“Thank you, doc.” You sigh, content, and turn your head to face her. “How will I ever repay you?”

“I'm sure you'll think of something.”

“Mmh, I might have an idea.”

“Oh?” She chuckles. “Colour me intrigued.”

You flip yourself above her, pinning her down before kissing her lovingly. When you pull away, you find her looking at you with the same lust she had for you the night prior. Her eyes fall on your lips before she speaks again.

“You should follow me on my next adventure. I think it would help you clear things up.”

You pull back, now sitting on her, as you take a moment to answer. “I have a few errands to run, but I might take you up on that offer.”

“I still have the room for a tenday,” she raises herself up on her elbows and gives you a pensive look before continuing her thought. “Let me know when you make up your mind.”

You get dressed up and kiss her goodbye, eager to go back to your own inn to get changed and take a much deserved bath. Since the room you had rented was yours for a few days, you might as well take the chance to shop around while you were there; you were in dire need of new equipment for your next adventures. You spend those days getting upgrades for your gear, and visiting the city. Day after day, something felt odd; you had the weird feeling that you were being watched. Every time, nothing would happen, and neither did you see anyone suspicious, but the feeling never left. One night, as you were making your way to your inn, that feeling only got stronger. The streets weren’t busy per say, but everyone you could see was minding their business, discussing amongst themselves. You pressed ahead to reach the inn faster; maybe it was all in your head, but just in case your intuition was right, you didn’t want to take any chances.

As you turn the corner to take a shortcut in a back alley, two figures block your path. In the dark of the night, you can’t make out their identities, but their threatening auras are enough to make you back away. You bump into two more imposing shadows, somehow having managed to sneak up behind you, who quickly grab your arms before you can think of escaping. You try to fight against them but their combined forces pin you down almost completely. You were strong, you shouldn’t have had any issue fighting them off, but their strength almost felt… surnatural. If you had learned one thing during your misadventures, it was that when brute strength wasn't an option, you had to aim for their egos.

“Come on, four against one? How's that fair? Are you so weak that you can't face me alone? Let me get the chance to fuck you up, one after the other.” You smile cheekily, your blood running hot, ready for a fight. Karlach would be proud.

The bandits remain unphased by your taunting, with only one of them answering to your banter.

“We won't fight you. Our Master requested that you be brought alive.”

“Aw, poor lil pup can’t do anything without its master's permission,” you say, mocking them, and you laugh disdainfully at them. “You’re fucking pathetic.” 

The figure moves towards you and you’re slapped with a strength that would’ve made you fall to your knees, had you not been held by the two other goons.

“ENOUGH!” Another figure speaks up. “Remember the Master mentioned that she be left unharmed.”

You lift your head back up, your breathing ragged by your furor. “How about you bring me to that master of yours so I can show him who he’s messing with?”

You wish you could take back your words as another figure appears, stepping out from the shadows, this one all too familiar.

“Hello, my sweet.”

-

I bet they planned it all out like the shows Went everywhere I go Walked in the store right behind me Stood in line right beside me and followed me to my home I'm sure they figured it out early on That I would never run That they could shoot, but that's no fun 'Cause then they're killing the stolen son, oh

[pandorasfavorite]

Hi can you do where the reader is teasing Dom all night at raw and then Dom towards the middle gets really needy and horny and the reader tells him he has to wait but the reader keeps teasing him while they are out at dinner after raw in front of the judgement day and when they get back to the hotel it’s just reallyyyyyy smuttyyyyy from there

Weeks of Weakness

Word Count: 3364 (doesn’t even seem like much…)

AN: I did not proof read this so if you see any mistakes be a sweetheart and private message me. LOVE YALL and enjoy if it's good. I think the main change is there’s no hotel, oops sorry.

Trouble 💗

Do you need anything while I’m out baby?

No. I’m waiting for you.

I’ll be there in just a minute.

I can’t wait to see you.

———————————————————————————

You are beyond excited to see Dominik, you’ve been dating him for two months and you mainly see him at work. And more and more you miss him every day that you are apart from him. You both have liked each other long before 2 months though. And truthfully you’ve only been to each other house a few times, the time you’ve spent with him wasn’t enough for you. The one thing you have been waiting forever to do though is spend time with Dominik in another way…

Dominik is polite, sweet, and above all a gentleman, he has never pressured you to take the steamy make-out sessions on his couch any further. But you knew how bad you wanted him to take you right there. After many weeks of hope, you’ve decided to take a different approach.

Dominik knocks on the dressing room door before just walking in, he has a bag of drinks in his hand and a cute confused face. “Where is everyone?”, he asks you with a hint of confusion. He sets down the drinks on the table before walking over to you, not before letting eyes rake over your body. You are wearing a tight outfit that hugs all your curves and insinuates your features. The one thing you knew Dominik would like most though is the new necklace you have dangling around your neck.

He stops in front of you and instantly his eyes brighten in recognition, the necklace has his initials and it’s lying down the valley of your chest. His face splits into a grin and he grabs you by the waist, thrusting your body against the front of his. “I like that a lot. When did you get it mami?”, his eyes are flickering down to the necklace to your eyes.

“Not too long ago. You like it?”, you ask him even though he already told you he did once. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and for a second you see his eyes look further past the necklace. You let your hands slide over the hard muscles of his arms, one of the only parts of his body not covered by the black leather. You squeeze his arms waiting for an answer, your tongue prodding at the side of your cheek suggestively. “You teasing me mami?”, his voice became deeper and his face turned playful.

You raise up and peck his lips quickly, pulling away before he can kiss back. “Not yet”, you answer checking the time and grabbing Dominik’s wrist to usher him away.

Best believe today was going to be a challenge for Dominik.

--------------------------------------------------------------

You are always there for Dominik's matches, much before you both started to date. But today you told him that it wasn't possible for you, that you had too much to do. And Dominik couldn't help but be upset, he skidded to a stop when you told him and his face immediately fell into a sad expression. "Are you serious?", he asks tugging you closer to him like your leaving forever. His hand is around your wrist, yet you bring your hands to lay flat on his chest; he still refuses to let go of you.

"You'll do great. I will be waiting for you at home, okay?", you flutter your eyelashes at him to make this easier on him. "Home?!", he all but shouts, the poor thing is so confused you can't help but giggle at his distress. You plant a kiss on his slightly pouting lips before removing yourself from him. He whips his head around to watch you leave before he yells after you, "Yours or mine?". You don't dare look back knowing Dominik could chase after you for another departing kiss, "Mine!", you holler back. Dominik is mad and his face is screwed up in anger, of course, he's not mad at you, he's mad at the circumstances and how confused you left him. But there was no way in hell he was going to lose.

So while Dominik was about to go on, you were rushing home to change. You change into lingerie, a dark purple and black set just for Dominik. Your panties are thin and they barely cover you but that is exactly what you wanted, the same goes for the top yet it is sheer. Dark purple but still light though to see the curves of your breasts. So you prop up your phone and snap photos of yourself, scrolling through them and deleting the less pleasing ones. Minutes pass and more photos of yourself are being taken, the moment Dominik sends you a message that he is on the way you set the plan into motion.

Trouble 🩷

On my way.

Sent 4 attachments

Fuck. Your sexy mami.

--------------------------------------------------------------This was just the start. In a flash, you hop up off the bed and you throw on some casual clothes, rushing into the living room to unlock the door and to fall onto the couch. In the time you spent 'watching TV' you thought of all the ways Dominik would come into the house. Would he throw the door open and sit on the couch beside you? Maybe even pull you into his lap? Or would he be shy? Maybe he would see you in different clothes and think you changed your mind and he would just ignore what happened before. But you didn't have much time to think any longer, Dominik walked through the door. His hair was partially wet and his cheeks were light pink like he was flustered. You stood up instantly from the couch at the sound of him entering and thank god you did, he looked good.

He changed out of his gear and now he's in a simple tee shirt and gray sweatpants, the bulge of his hard cock making a prominent print for you to see. Despite the flush in his cheeks, he looks confident and feverish as if he was going to grab you the moment he got close. You swallow and try to collect yourself, you switch the TV off and you walk around the couch, slipping into the kitchen while talking to Dominik. The door clicked shut and you smiled a bit to yourself, hoping to rile him up as much as possible. "You hungry babe?", you call out to him, hearing his steps follow you into the kitchen.

You've opened the fridge but you bent over by the waist, just waiting for Dominik to answer you. You gasp when his hands grip your waist from behind. You stand up completely, turning around to face him, not thinking clearly enough to close the fridge. Dominik reaches behind you and closes the fridge door only to push your back against it, one leg slotted between yours helping you move backward. Your breathing is labored and Dominik's muscles are tensing from beneath his shirt. "Yeah, I think I'm hungry", the pad of my thumb presses against the bottom of your lip, just barely drawing a soft gasp from you.

Dominik swallows down his own groan of pleasure just by the small trickle of your moans. Then there was a blaring ring from your phone, your eyes glanced to the phone on the counter to Dominik who was staring right back at you. You both let it ring, succumbing to the feeling of being so close to each other. But you can't ignore the annoying rings a second time. Dominik steps back a bit to let you reach around to grab the phone, but the moment you do he steps back. Not wanting to be far from you.

"Hello?", you try to stop the pants in your voice. "Hey! We all tried to call Dom but he didn't answer. Can you remind him that you both are expected at dinner?", you completely forgot. "Uhh yeah, be there in 30 minutes", you hang up the phone and place it back on the counter. You look up at Dominik who looks frustrated from the call, he was close enough to hear and he's smart enough to know this wasn't a dinner he could miss.

"I have to run home and change. Pick you up in 15?", he asks while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You simply nod up at him, rising to kiss his lips deeply. Dominik's hand nestled into your hair, pushing your head further towards him, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth. You both pull back and stand there for another moment, probably considering the best ways to get out of this dinner. Alas, there was no way, Dominik left to get changed and you did the same. You slipped into a short black dress, classy enough for a group dinner such as this one.

Your heels click against the driveway when you slip into the passenger seat of his car. Dominik eyes trailed down every inch of your body he could manage in a few seconds. You watch the way he shifts his hips in discomfort and his grip on the wheel only tightens.

You see the scowl on his face, from being cock blocked your sure but you can’t help but tease. “What’s wrong baby?”, you ask while letting your hand slide up and down his thigh. His face screws up at the feeling of your hand getting closer to cock, your touch only making the throbbing worse. “Fuck” he starts to shift again, “Stop touching it” he grabs your hand in his.

You smile turning your head to look away from him to feign innocence. Once he lets go of your hand you simply squeeze his thigh, turning to give him a cute smile that he can’t deny. He smiles back at you quickly before turning his attention back to the road, finally letting himself just barely relax. He parks the car and hops out quickly to open the door for you.

You walk in front of him for a moment the sway of your hips making Dominik curse from being denied. He catches up to you, standing by your side with one of his hands slipping down to grab your ass. You gasp pretending to be surprised, “Well you’re no gentleman”. He moves his arm to drape across your waist instead, only moving it to open the door for you again.

You both sit at the dinner table, surrounded by the rest of The Judgement Day. Dominik is to the right of you, occasionally joining the conversation but mainly opting to watch you sip on your wine. Food comes out but Dominik can barely touch his food, his thoughts of you distracting him from the meal. You notice that he hasn’t touched his food and you can’t help but bump your knee with his in order to get his attention. “Are you going to eat?” You whisper whilst pointing at his food. His hand moves to grab your thigh like you did to him in the car, he leans down a bit to whisper in your ear. “I’d rather taste you”, he says casually before sitting back up and taking a drink out of his glass.

You feel your cheeks getting redder and in that moment you knew you couldn’t let him beat you at your own game. You push his hand off your leg, instead opting to put your hand on the metal of his belt. Dominik sputters into his drink, and everyone at the table looks at him in concern, while some just laugh. Dominik waves everyone off trying to look normal.

Then your hand slid further down, cupping the print of his dick, letting your hand run down his pant leg from where his cock is hard and had to be positioned down his leg. Your thumb brushes over the tip and Dominik shutters out a restrained groan. “Please let’s go” he can barely take it anymore. You don’t stop rubbing him only whispering back to him for a moment, “You need to wait”. His eyes are squeezed shut and one of his hands is covering his mouth. “You okay lad?”, Finn asks from the seat in front of Dominik. Dominik just nods forgetting to speak, you let up allowing him to get out of the haze.

Dominik clears his throat, “Actually can we be excused? I’m not feeling great”, he says before standing up and taking you with him. Dominik opens the door for you and lets it slam behind him, you think he’s genuinely mad. But the second he gets in the driver's side his hand clasps around your throat, pulling you to his lips where his tongue slips inside your mouth. Mouths sliding against each other and when he pulls back your lips are slightly swollen from the pressure.

He pulls out of the parking lot the drive back is quiet until you get home. The tension was unbearable, you’ve been wanting this for weeks, and now that the moment is so close you can’t help but overthink. You step inside your house and you wait for the door to click shut before you turn around and tell Dominik that he doesn’t have to do this. "I don't want to pressure you-", you've turned halfway before you are pushed back by the shoulder, and now your back is now pressed comfortably against the wall by the door. Dominik's look stops your rambling before it has even begun, he looks so sure and tense with the need to touch all over you. He wets his lips, craning his head close to yours, his body practically hunched in order to manage your height.

"Is there something you want to ask me?" he looks you up and down again not even trying to suppress his smirk, "something you need?". This was the last thing you were expecting, you had hopes he would just take you right then and there instead of making you say it for him. "We've never...well we uh...I want you to, you know..", Dominik could've listened to your confusing rambles for hours if it wasn't for the near-painful hard-on he had. His hands found the side of your face, pulling you to him and taking your lips against his. The kiss was feverish and hot, only pulled back for a split second just to come back to his soft lips. You feel the passion between the touch, his tongue slotting into your mouth, and when he pulls back that graze of his teeth that has always driven you mad.

You break first, letting your hands fumble with the belt of your pants, instantly working to tug them down. Dominik has no problem with helping you, he moves to kiss down your neck while both yours and his hands work to take off his clothes. Dominik's kisses work down the expanse of your neck and to your chest that became exposed the second bottom could peel it off of you. You both are only left in underwear which only shows the need of the moment. In an instant Dominik hoists you up off the ground, forcing your legs to wrap around your waist so he could walk you to the bedroom.

You both sink into the bed, Dominik on top of you holding himself up just enough to lavish your body with kisses. Urged on by the tug of his hair. He pushes your thighs apart, stopping at the thin cotton of your panties, he looks up at you sexily disheveled, "Do you want this?", he rasps out. He can't stop his eyes from glancing down at the damp spot in your purple cotton lace panties. You nod; only to gasp out an answer, "I've been waiting for weeks", you confess shuffling your body further down the bed towards him.

"Let's make this quick then, hmm?", his tongue laid flat against the fabric of your panties, the fabric sticking to his tongue and you can feel the brush against your aching clit. He sucks on the damp spot, just barely tasting your arousal but still groaning at the sweet taste. He slides them down your legs, tossing them away and he brings your legs over his shoulders. His chest is pressed to the bed and his mouth is centimeters away from your pussy, his eyes are wide and wild like he can't decide what to do first. You clench your thighs around him, tugging on his hair to make him look up at you. "Please don't make me wait any longer", you all but pant and plead with him.

He bites his bottom lip for a second, finally deciding what he would do, and the moment his mouth attaches to your clit you choke out a moan. His tongue slides through the folds of your pussy, all the juices getting lapped up on his tongue. It was so messy coating his chin and the bottom half of his face just the way he wanted it to. The firm pressure of his soft lips on you brought you so many different types of pleasure making your mouth fall open with high moans that only Dominik had the pleasure of hearing. Just when you thought it couldn't get any better Dominik slips a finger inside of you, making you loosen up and accept all the feeling he was giving you. It was so easy Dominik couldn't help slipping another one of his fingers inside of you, groaning at the way you suck him in and soak his fingers.

"Fuck mami, you're dripping onto the bed", he says in surprise and lusting his cock so unbelievably hard he couldn't stop his hips from rutting against the bed. You squeeze around his fingers making him laugh at the effect he has on you. He pulls his fingers out, sitting up on his knees and pulling his boxers off completely, his cock bobbing. He licked the slick off his fingers, moaning at the taste again; it was the best thing he'd ever had in his life. You toss your head back at the sight, your legs already shaking from having to wait, your body is getting restless. "Dom please baby", you reach for his arm, squeezing the firm muscle.

He wastes no time now, lining up and quickly sinking into you. Both of you bottom out with a string of a long moan. It feels so good Dominik couldn't stay still inside of you for long, his cock thrusts in and out of you smoothly, brushing against the walls of your pussy so perfectly. "Fuuuck angel, such a perfect pussy", his head falls forward and his hair frames his face, his adams' apple bobbing as he swallows his shallow moans. He hears the desperation in your moans and he speeds up his pace, his cock pushing in and out of you, your walls squeezing around him tightly only making his cock feel so much larger inside of you.

"If you keep squeezing me I won't be able to last-", he pants smacking the plush of your ass, trying to control himself the best he can. You can't register what he's saying only moaning, your hand sliding down your body to rub your clit in fast circles. And that only feels so much better your body reacts, pulsing around his cock, "Mami..mami" he whines with a broken voice. You gasp out a moan, and finally, that feeling of pulsing pleasure flows through you, "Dom Im gonna cum, imgonnacum", you nearly yell when you toss your head back for the third time, your fingers barely able to continue circling your clit. Dominik pushes your hands away and spits on your clit, rubbing it as quickly as he can pushing you over the edge.

Your body tenses and throbs at the intense pleasure and Dominik can finally cum knowing you already have. His hips stutter from inside, "God you drive me crazy" he pants when he finishes. He smiles as he says it as if that was the only thing he desires in the whole world. He lays his head on your chest, both of you are panting from exhaustion and your body is coated in sweat. But in that moment it felt like your heart could simply explode, nothing felt better than him.

[mercuriians]

can't remember to forget you

content warning — some profanity, mentions of alcohol, references to terminal illness. reader’s last name is mentioned once for plot purposes later on.

author’s note — HI YALL 🥴 this is totally unedited & i wrote this at 12am. i just wanted to get this out as quickly as possible so bare with me. as a fair warning there is a LOT to unpack with the reader’s backstory, and to be honest 90% of this fic is literally just you brooding over kenji LMAO 😭. this is basically just an experiment so if u guys like this plz let me know so i can write a follow up!!

you really have no idea as to how such an important piece of information slipped your mind. two of japan's most recent superstar athletes were returning home at the exact same time. it would've brought a smile to your face in any other situation. if only those two athletes hadn't been you and him. kenji.

it's been years since you two have spoken. well, those years were spent productively, with both of you dedicating much-needed time towards your respective sports. he rocked the baseball field. you shone on the basketball court. but at the end of the day, behind all the sweat and arena lights and post-game interviews, there was a sharp pain that remained unresolved at the back of your mind. the last memory you have of kenji is still freshly imprinted. you had been at his house, and having recently heard the devastating news of your mother being terribly ill, you had come to him seeking comfort. little did you know that he was hurting too, with another fight having just happened between him and his father.

there was so much going on at the time, so much to worry about and so much pain in general, that all the pent-up feelings between you two had burst within one crucial moment. he kissed you, and you kissed back. clothes came off. you ended up in his bed. for a while it had felt like heaven because yes, it distracted you from the worry that consumed you from the inside out, but it had also made your most secretive wishes come to fruition.

until that moment, only you had known how deeply and utterly in love you were with kenji, and how strongly those feelings had grown since you two were fourteen.

there was nothing else that could have made you happier. even now, you remember the feeling of his strong arms around you, the feeling of his mouth against yours. the way your name rolled off his tongue so smoothly, so adoringly, as he whispered it into your ear. the way he hugged you so firmly after you two made love, as if he was afraid that you would disappear.

but then you also remember how something in him changed only a few seconds later. how the atmosphere grew dark the moment he pushed you off and told you to leave without even looking you in the eye. there's a part of you that wants to think kenji didn't mean to hurt you the way he did. it's the more naive, more hopeful part of yourself, spinning stories of how he actually didn't want you to leave, and he just said it because he didn't know how to cope with his own feelings. ultimately, it's all wishful thinking, borne out of a desire to believe that he maybe did really love you.

kenji broke your heart that night, and right now, even as you board the plane headed to tokyo, even as you put on a smile and sign an autograph for a starstruck fan, you admit that not a single thing has changed. you're still holding onto the past, and you hate yourself for it. especially when you realize that kenji probably moved on a long time ago.

"you alright?" your agent, himari, asks when you two sit down. she's one of the sweetest people ever, and you really don't want to lie to her because of the guilt that you know you'll feel. you meet her hazel eyes. you open your mouth to respond.

"yeah, i'm fine," you smile.

damn it.

as the plane takes off, you do your best to remove kenji from your mind, if only for a little while. perhaps inevitably, you start thinking about the very reason you've decided to finally come home. exactly two nights ago, there was a dream you had while you were sleeping. it was vivid in its entirety, and there was fire and people screaming and something very, very big in the distance, in front of what seemed like a sports arena. conveniently enough, there was some sort of fog surrounding the mysterious figure, but you didn't need to see it to know what it actually was. a kaiju.

you remember the words your mother told you before she passed away. it was an extremely painful memory, and really there was nothing in the world that could have encapsulated how helpless you felt when you saw her frail figure. she used to be so strong, so lively with everything she did and said. it took you a while to recognize the woman that laid in the hospital bed. however even with the tears that had stung your vision at the time, you heard the very last traces of her resolve within the very last words she said to you.

"when you're old enough, i want you to start what i couldn't. . to protect the world with the gift i'll give you. please. . just remember that i love you, and that it's worth giving things a second chance."

as you stare out of the plane window, watching the world pass by below you, the clouds mix together and blur into a white haze. a moment later, you realize that tears are threatening to fall from your eyes. you wipe them away with your sleeve before they have the chance to. i'll do my best, mom, you think, hoping that somehow she can hear you. i don't know where or how i'll start, but i will.

there's a lot of things waiting for you in japan, and you're not entirely sure if you're ready. but at the end of the day, it's your home, and you know deep within your heart that you'll do anything to protect it. sliding your sunglasses onto your face, you close your eyes and try to get some rest before the plane lands.

around twelve hours later, tokyo is there to greet you in all its glory. it's night time, but the way the city lights contrast so beautifully against the sky's inky blue-black canvas is more than enough to bring a smile to your face. "we're home, himari," you say to the woman next to you.

"we are, indeed," she breathes out.

“man, not even los angeles can compete against this,” you chuckle lightly. your words carry quite a lot of weight to them, especially considering how you were completely and utterly starstruck for the first couple of weeks you were in california. there’s a reason so many movies were filmed there. yet, tokyo remains on another level, still reigning as the undefeated champion.

fine. maybe you’re a little biased.

however, your smile fades away when you realize that the probability of seeing him—kenji—is at an all time high. chances are, he’s already here. waiting for you.

stop that.

you shrug off the thought, reminding yourself that he had probably moved on years ago. there was no use in entertaining an idea that had been burnt out for a long time. the only person that would end up being hurt would be yourself—and speaking from experience, emotional distress was a lot different than physical. physical pain you could handle. as a basketball star, you were pretty accustomed to them by now. ankle sprains, muscle cramps, even that torn acl from a year ago, which had hurt like an absolute bitch.

emotional pain was entirely different territory. and it was territory that you were not willing to cross. not again.

god, you were such a mess. maybe indulging in a momentary distraction wouldn’t hurt.

“hey, himari, you wanna know what i’m cravin’ right now?” you ask, a false smile creeping onto your face. the woman in question gives you a wary look, brows slightly scrunched together as if she already knows what you’re going to say.

“a good night’s rest before your interview tomorrow?” she asks flatly.

you shake your head. “alcohol. lots of it.”

“ms. matsuda, i don’t think that’s a smart decision—”

waving her off, you protest, “just for tonight, i promise. we’re back home and i wanna celebrate. and how many times have i told you to call me by my first name?”

himari stares at you for a few moments before lowering her head and heaving a sigh. “fine. . [name]. please take care of yourself out there. and be prepared—i’m sure quite a lot of people will recognize you when you walk into the bar.”

you smile in triumph, holding up your sunglasses. “i’ve got that covered. sure, having these on at night are a little weird, but i’ll just pass it off as the new trend.”

your agent gives you another slightly concerned look before bidding you a good night. and with that, you start walking to the nearest bar. it’s small, inconspicuous, and lit up with only one neon sign. all good indicators that there’s probably not a lot of people in there. you walk in, head held high, without any trouble. your footsteps are light and unhurried against the wooden floor as your eyes quickly scan the environment—eleven or twelve people, give or take, two bartenders, a potted plant over by the corner. and a vacant stool at the far end. perfect.

sliding into the seat, you drum your fingers on the freshly cleaned counter as you decide on what to order. “the denki bran looks good, think i’ll get that,” you mutter to yourself.

you feel someone take the stool next to you, but you don’t pay it much mind. at least until they reply to your words. “yeah, it is good. pretty bold choice, though.”

your mouth drops open.

you hear the person next to you snicker quietly.

the snail-esque speed at which you turn your head would have been comical if it had been any other situation. however, it’s anything but funny when your heart jumps into your throat, when your eyes widen with pure and unadulterated shock as they meet those of familiar gunmetal gray bordering on black.

kenji gives you a sharp grin that’s only a little bit sheepish. “nice to see you again, ace.”

[hjparisian]

so long, london- remus j lupin x reader

p: remus lupin x fem!reader w: sad, angst, like one or two cuss words, mentions of death s: the deaths of lily and james potter and the imprisonment of sirius black have led to a rift between (y/n) and remus' relationship. both haunted by that one night, it was only a matter of time until one of them left a/n: please bear with me in this as im not super knowledgable about the mauraders era but i hope this is okay! if yall have a 1000 page doc about this era, send it my way

Halloween of 1981 had to have been one of the darkest days in history. Lily and James Potter were dead, killed by Voldemort. Peter Pettigrew, dead, killed by his own friend Sirius Black, who is now in Azkaban.

Remus was still grieving the death of Marlene McKinnon when he found out about what happened to his best friends. He could barely hold in his tears as he held (Y/N) in his arms, who was already sobbing at the news.

The two couldn't believe it. How could Sirius Black sell out his own best friend and his wife to the Dark Lord? How could he kill his friends? Had he been hiding his loyalty this whole time?

The days following James and Lily's deaths were spent in darkness. Remus would sit in the room he and (Y/N) shared, staring at the fairy lights stringed about the walls. (Y/N) would spend her mornings doing tasks for the Order, while at night she would wallow in the arms of Remus.

Just when they thought things were terrible, it unfortunately got worse.

(Y/N) and Remus' good friend Dorcas Meadowes was found dead. Killed by Voldemort himself. Why? They'll never know.

The two were distraught, (Y/N) more so than Remus as she was closer to Dorcas. It appeared that (Y/N) would follow in Remus' own routine, hiding away in the spare bedroom that they used to let their friends rest in when they were over. At nights, she would return to her and Remus' bedroom to shower and sleep.

Remus could hear her sobs during her showers.

As the days went on, (Y/N) had began to accept the fate of her friends. Or she was hiding her true emotions from Remus, who remained a mess at the loss of his mates. Each day, (Y/N) would try to talk with Remus and get him out of the house. Unfortunately, the only time he would leave was during the full moon so not to hurt her.

Remus began distancing himself from (Y/N). He'd wake up earlier than her, he would have lunch before her, he would keep himself locked in the bedroom during the day, wait 'til she was asleep to turn in.

Anything to be alone.

(Y/N) had tried to follow Remus' new routine, trying to catch him whenever she could. Even if she had to wake up earlier than she would, even if she had to stay up later to see Remus join her in bed. Anything she could to try to talk with Remus.

Silly girl.

It became rare for the two to even have a long lasting conversation, let alone a lighthearted, joyful chat. Any words spoken were those of sorrow and anger. The young woman had once attempted to talk to Remus about his mood changing, trying to get him to talk through it.

It ended in tears and slamming doors.

Since that talk, tensions between the two were higher than ever, and not in the way one may think. They began to have more arguments in a month than they ever had in their entire relationship.

Though one argument was not like the others.

"Rem, come on!" She pleaded with him. "You haven't been outside in months! Everybody is starting to assume you're dead!"

"Well let them think that! Everyone I cared or loved is already dead. Anyone who's ever loved me is gone."

"But what about me?" She asked him. "I'm still here Remus. But lately you act like I'm not!"

Remus stops his tracks in the living room. "Sorry that our friends dying has affected me so badly."

"Remus, you're acting like you're the only one affected by their deaths." She says to him. "I'm upset about it too. They were my friends as much as they were yours."

"You never knew James or Sirius or Peter like I did," Remus yells at her. "You never spent most of your school years with them, knowing every little thing about them."

"That doesn't mean we weren't friends and you know that Remus. You're acting like they were the only people you've lost," the woman says. "I lost Lily. I lost Marlene, Dorcas. Hell, have you even heard about what happened to Mary? She's gone missing Remus! They're saying she might've been killed."

"You don't need to remind me everyone that's gone, (Y/N)! I'm more than aware of what's happening and I don't need to be reminded."

The woman huffed. "Well with the way you're locked up here, it seems like it."

"Not everyone can carry on with their lives after finding out someone who was basically like family is dead!" Remus shouts.

"Well, sorry I've been busy distracting myself with work from the Order! Trying to do what I can to help anyone that left!"

All Remus could do was roll his eyes, frustration clouding his emotions. "Why even bother? They couldn't save our friends, now they're gone! You're being stupid."

"Remus-"

"Bloody hell, I can't do this. I'm leaving." The boy declares, having enough of this.

Remus stomped out the door, slamming it behind him. All (Y/N) could do was dropped to her knees in tears, exhaustion hitting her. Sobs filled the empty room.

The man fled to the streets of London, finding shelter in a hotel near the heart of the city. He spent a few nights there, getting the space he felt he deserved. Remus had no one to talk to about this, and sitting in a lonely white bed had reminded him of it.

No James. No Lily.

No Sirius. No Marlene.

No Peter. No Dorcas.

No Mary.

He had no one. Except (Y/N).

Oh what an idiot he is.

Remus had let his anger get the best of him. He had yelled at his favorite girl and basically told her to fuck off. What a dick he is. The fight had began to flood his head, reminding him of how much he screwed up.

He had to go find her.

The werewolf quickly left the hotel, determined to return to where he and (Y/N) were last together.

He ran to the streets and waved his arms haphazardly, aiming to flag down the nearest cab. He stumbled inside the next one that stopped for him and told him the address.

As soon as the cab stopped by his house, Remus gave him money and ran to the door. He took the key from his pocket and unlocked their apartment door. He pushed the door open to a silent living room.

"Hello?" Remus calls out. "(Y/N) are you here?"

The young man began wandering through the apartment, which seemed slightly emptier than usual. His bedroom seemed the most off to him. He couldn't have been away that long, right?

A white envelope sitting against a vase on the night stand had caught his eye. 'Remus' was written on the front in pretty handwriting that he knew belonged to his girlfriend. He opened it up to reveal a letter for him.

He sat on the floor against his bed and began reading it. As he read through it, he felt his heart crumbling to pieces. It felt like everything was hitting him all at once.

Remus,

I've decided it was time for me to say so long to the place I once called home.

As much as I love this place, London, England, I cannot bear being here anymore. All the memories I've made with everyone will haunt me knowing I've been the unfortunate one who was chosen to be alive out of them.

I'll be leaving the country to go who knows where. Anywhere will be better than here. I think I'd implode if I stayed here any longer.

I've also decided to start clean and leave my wizarding roots behind. As much as I loved being a witch, going to Hogwarts and learning magic, I can't think about it without being reminded of what happened. I don't want my past to follow me around.

I'm sorry I couldn't have done better, Remus. I'll miss you, and I hope your life gets better. Hope you find someone better.

~(Y/N).

The letter fell from his hands.

Remus couldn't believe it. He had lost the last person in his life that cared for him. His whole world was gone, taken from him.

"Fuck."

He stood up and shoved the vase to the ground out of anger, watching it shatter. Water ran across the floor under the broken pieces and ruined flowers.

A wave of emotions hit Remus all at once. He didn't know what to feel. There was nothing he could do to change the past.

Poor young Remus. He was truly alone, forever.

[neptunescore]

Please elaborate on carlandoscar.. I would love to hear your thoughts and I want to be convinced

Hello nonnie<3

God I have so much to say, like their dynamics just make so much sense??

First of all, just the absolute poetry that is their current stages of life. I don't know if that's the sentence you'd use to explain it, but. just listen:

Oscar- what might be

Lando- what is / what could be

Carlos- what could've been

Bc isn't that what they are.

We all know Oscar is championship material; he's got the mentality, and his racecraft and understanding of the car just gets better, especially considering the fact that it's literally his second year in F1.

Lando is the one who is, right now. He very nearly got his first championship this year, and he's just getting better. I've also written 'could be' mostly bc of the fact he still isn't a champion yet, but even with all my mclaren haterism, I do know it's a very realistic possibility.

Carlos, on the other hand, is all spent potential. Not necessarily wasted potential, bc I do feel he made a name for himself, but he's spent all his potential in teams that never gave him a proper chance to compete. Like with Renault and Mclaren it was the car, and with Ferrari it was the car AND the team's clear show of favour (not said in like a bad way, more so in a sad way). And obv torro rosso was smthng else.

So, just. The combination of these 3 different stages is so compelling to me.

Next, we have their relationships with each other.

With Lando and Carlos and all their history, as well as them still being so close with each other, while Oscar and Carlos are always making snide remarks about one another. Except. Then you have Carlos calling them 'magnets' and Oscar only speaking up when Carlos does smthng small on track, and suddenly. They're giving each other fist bumps. They're smiling at each other when their eyes lock. They're following each other on instagram. And they're talking.

And ofc, you also just have Lando and Oscar. Lando, who will take any chance he has to tease Oscar. And Oscar, who will keel over and die with laughter at anything remotely funny, Lando says. Lando, who gave oscar his Sprint win without even being asked. Oscar, who's followed team orders with no complaints to make sure Lando stayed in championship contention.

They're just so perfectly intertwined.

Now, on to my more rpf thoughts.

I honestly fully believe that while Lando and Carlos have been friends for much longer, Oscar and Carlos would get together first. I can totally see both of them being forcefully/coincidentally put into situations where there is no choice but for them to talk. Over time, I think they just start to enjoy it. Like first, they feel genuine irritation with each other over their stupid arguments. Now, they're having fun. They like getting on to each others nerves. It becomes a sort of game.

This just keeps happening until one day they take it too far, stumble into uncharted territory, then stumble into each other, and then just stumble into bed together. Come morning, Oscar is waking up to the smell of freshly made pancakes, and him and Carlos are arguing about toppings and, well. It just feels natural. It clicks. They're together now, and neither of them even has to say it bc the other one just knows.

Lando is much more complicated. Honestly, I think he'd have a whole crisis about it. First, he'd go thru the 'wait, am I G-A-Y???' breakdown during his F2 years. Then, he'd go thru the 'ohmygod I LIKE CARLOS?!?' breakdown midway thru their second year together in Mclaren. And I can totally imagine him having his, 'wait why do I think Oscar is cute and why am I still not over Carlos why is this happening to me.' breakdown during the summer break after Oscar's first year.

Honestly, I've already written way too much now😭 if yall are still interested and wanna know how I think Lando gets with them just leave me an ask and I'll respond to that bc this is WAY to long. And if you're interested in their relationship/bedroom dynamics, then feel free to ask abt that too bc I have put MUCH thought behind it😭😭😭

Anyway, I hope this convinced you at least a little bit nonnie<3

[alexa-fika]

Lasting Memories (Shanks x gn!child!reader)

A/N: Yall I am so sorry, I thought I had posted this earlier today but I just checked and I was like wait I din’t , oops. I think I COOKED, PLEASE TELL ME IF I COOKED OR NOT, read this post to see what it was inspired on, cause I don’t want to make you read it twice if ya already know

Dividers by @/Saradika

“Captain, there's a kid out there; they said they want to talk to you,” Yassop said, entering the bar

“Hmm? Hardly a place for a kid to be” he said glancing at the bar him and his crew were currently staying at

“I think you’re going to want to see this one,” he said, grinning

“Well, let’s have a look, can’t leave the kid hanging,” he said. The captain stretched his arm out. His eyes gleamed as he took one last gulp of his drink, walking behind his officer until they came outside of the bar where a small child sat at a bench swinging their legs until they spotted him coming out of the bar

They smile, jumping off the bench and facing the Captain, their bunny-like ponytails raising in happiness

“Are you Captain Shanks?”

“That’s me. And are you the one asking for me?” He says teasingly before he bends down, coming to their level.

“Yeah”

“And what’s your name?”

“Reader”

“Reader, and how old you are you, Reader?”

“Six”

“Six, young lass to be wandering around, what can I do for you?”

“Do…do you remember me?”

Shanks pauses; he tries to recall this child, this face.

“I’m afraid not, but you look somewhat familiar.”

They grin

“You were always Closer to sister; she was older; I was just two, so back then all I knew was that you meant home, safety.

Shanks furrows his eyebrows in thought

“Im sorry, Lass, but im not sure what you mean; who was your sister?”

“You must remember better her better, your former musician, Uta.”

Shanks's eyes widen as he is hit with the sudden realization. Of course, he’d never have forgotten about his daughter.

"You’re…."

“Hi, Dad, it’s been a while,” they said, tears pooling in their eyes

Shanks is utterly taken aback by this moment; his jaw completely drops in shock.

"Y-you're really...I always wondered what happened to you, and I never stopped looking, either. Look at you; you were but a tiny lass always glued to Uta’s arms last time i Saw you"

“Uta told me that sometimes she had trouble getting me out of your arms; she always talks about you, especially after the music guy took over her; she keeps saying how you saved her.”

Shanks's eyes light a loud laugh escaping him after hearing of Uta’s fond memories about him.

"I can't believe it, all of this time I spent searching. . I can't believe my little lass found me instead”

“After the bad guy, sister has been taking a well-deserved break from all the craziness, and well, I was wondering if maybe I can stay with you for a while until sister charges up?”

He grins, scooping the small child up and ignoring their surprised squeal as their feet left the ground, turning around to his crew, who had by now left the bar to see their captain’s reencounter with his child

“Lads, we got a crewmate back; this calls for a celebration!”

They look up at their father, a smile growing on their face as they continue staring at his features. It had been a long time, and they were small the last time they had seen him; the features had become blurred over the years, but now there was no hurry. They had no need to hold onto figments of past memories that needed to be puzzled together just to have a vague remembrance of what their father look as now they would have the chance to create new memories, to wake up and see the face in front of them rather than in their murky memories

“Hm? Do I have something on my face, lass?”

“No, im just happy I found you.”

Shanks gives a bright smile as he sees his kid’s happy expression.

“So are we just going to stand out here, you little rascal? Come on then,” Shanks says, carrying the small one on his hip back to his ship.

“You guys have better start being careful from now on; we’ve got ourselves a child on board,” he said, glancing back at his crew. The smile On his face, betraying any serious tone he was trying to portray

“But dad is the reckless one,” Reader piped in

“Hah? What are you trying to say, reader?! Ask Beck; I am the epitome of responsibility, right Beck?”

“No.”

“Hey! Reader, don’t listen to him; Uncle Beck is just being silly!” he fusses

“Be careful around that one; take your eyes off him, and you’ll end up on the sea.” Lucky Laughs

“OI”

Im sorry for starving you guys, I just started classes so I’ve been trying to get ahead as I always do but eventually when I get ahead I will be much laidback so I will be more consistent ( Hopefully)

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- slight ptsd and mentions of scars

A/N- CHILD OF THE STORM IS BACK YALL. I am SO sorry for disappearing for like, three months life's been A LOT. There's only two three more chapters left until the fic's over. I cannot believe it's been more than a year. BUT there is something new coming up very soon (tho it would be a lot sooner IF I JUST FIGURE OUT HOW TO FIX THE DAMNED PLOT HOLE). Anyways, this chapter's a bit long so buckle in. And let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @evelyndane @marauders-wife @el-de-phi

Ch-65 ~and it was either going to make her stronger than ever~

Anaya stopped at the doorway. She took a deep breath before entering the ballroom.

The place was a massive hall with shiny golden walls and chandeliers that covered almost the entire ceiling. It was where all of the royal events were hosted.

And tonight, for Nikolai’s coronation, Genya had done a great job of making even the hideous Grand Palace appear endearing. 

Even though Nikolai was supposed to be the centre of attention tonight, every head turned as Anaya went in. 

Even Nikolai himself had turned to look at her.

“Great” she thought, not quite fond of the gesture. She’d already been late because she’d spent the afternoon working when she should've been preparing for the event.

She walked forward, her gown brushing against the laces of her shoes, a smile on her face.

She saw Genya and Zoya standing in a far corner, gesturing to her to come to them.

“Councillor Nasrazeen,” A man spoke up, blocking her path. “It’s an honour to finally meet you” he smiled. Though his narrowed eyes and raised eyebrow expressed how he was much more irritated to meet her.

 “Duke Verensky” he introduced himself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Duke Verensky” Anaya said, a smile plastered across her face.

“I have to say,” he began. “Ravka truly is changing its ways of working” He raised his brows. “Given how the Council is now being led by a Grisha woman”.

There it was.

When the news of Anaya’s position had reached the nobles, some had been intrigued as to why she’d become the Councillor. Others had simply refused to accept it. 

“Surely you’re aware of all the events that have happened in our country since last year,” Anaya said, her voice unwavering. “Ravka is certainly seeing changes it hadn’t ever seen before.” She tilted her head. “And perhaps it’s for the best.” 

But the Duke only narrowed his eyes further, “That we shall see” he gave a nod, walking away.

The coronation began shortly afterwards and lasted for a while. 

Anaya glanced at the clock. It’d only been an hour since she’d arrived, and yet it had felt like an eternity.

The prying eyes of the guests and their never ending questions made her want to walk out the door, but she had no other choice but to stay.

“Why exactly did King Nikolai choose you for a position that holds such great importance?” One of the guests asked.

“I believe you would have to ask his majesty himself about his decision” She offered as pleasantly as she could. 

“Still, if you had to think of a possible reason, what would you choose?” She pressed.

It’s probably because I don’t ask useless questions.

“It could be, as I’ve worked by his side during the civil war and because of my experience on foreign lands” She said. 

“Surely you would need more factors than that to be worthy of running a country” the woman said, smiling.

Why don’t you run it instead.

Anaya forced her lips into a smile, “Duchess, I-”

“I deeply apologise for interrupting you,” Genya appeared by her side. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to borrow Miss Nasrazeen for a moment” she smiled and dragged Anaya away by her arm.

“How do I thank you for this favour Genya” Anaya let out an exasperated sigh as she went to the corner where Zoya was.

“By actually dressing up on time” Genya grinned as she rolled a single amber eye.

“That woman is a menace,” Zoya added, handing Anaya a glass of champagne.

“That I figured out” Anaya rolled her eyes, taking the glass.

“I have to say,” Genya glimpsed at her dress. “You do look good in blue”.

“‘Immensely endearing’ is the term I’d use” Anaya flashed a grin. 

She lowered her voice“ I'm surprised how you managed to turn this hideous palace appealing ”

“What can I say” Genya straightened her shoulders. “I'm very talented”.

“Where is David by the way?” She asked

Genya rolled her eye, “He left as soon as the Coronation was over. He's very repulsive to social gatherings”.

“However do you deal with him” Zoya said, shaking her head.

There was a brief silence, filled by their similar thoughts.

“It's so hard,” Zoya sighed. “Pretending to be thrilled about all this, as if nothing happened”.

Anaya gave a single nod of her head. “That's what this all is” she lifted a shoulder. “Pretending to move on, getting used to the changes, acting along in the play”.

“Atleast Nikolai’s doing it a lot better than us,” Genya said, her gaze drifting over to where he was standing.

Anaya nodded in agreement. 

Even after all he'd endured, he'd managed to keep the act going, playing the parts he was expected to.

She had no idea how he did it all, when she could do nothing to shake the feeling of her scars creeping over her, reminding her of how they came to be.

Slithering like thorned vines over her arms, her back.

The evening stretched on and the nobles continued to pester Anaya with their inane questions.

And she had no choice but to offer them and answer.

…………………………………..

Anaya stood near one of the tables at a corner, a glass of champagne in her hand. It was getting immensely difficult to get through the event without it.

She then noticed two of the grisha students silently creeping out with a bottle of champagne hidden behind their backs.

“And where exactly do you two plan to be going?” Anaya said, appearing behind them.

The Fabrikator and the Heartrender turned around hastily, trembling in fear upon the sight of her.

“Nowhere…ma’am” The Boy began, refusing to meet her gaze

But the Heartrender cut him off, “I actually needed some fresh air so I told him to go outside” She offered.

Despite being shorter, Anaya seemed to be the one looking down at them.

“And I suppose you also need the champagne to enjoy the fresh air” She raised an eyebrow.

“We-” The girl began, but Anaya's sceptical gaze stopped her from further speaking.

Anaya looked at them for a moment, “What are your names?” She said, finally speaking.

“I- Nestor Verakov”, ma’am” The boy looked at his feet.

Anaya's gaze shifted to the girl.

“Nina Zenik” she said, managing to look up.

Anaya sighed, “Fine go, just don't let the General see you” she glanced at Zoya who was surrounded by a group of First Army officials.

They barely nodded before rushing out the door.

Anaya sighed and went back to her corner before another noble could drag her off.

She looked around, taking a sip from her second glass.

“Going very fast on the champagne are we?” She turned to see Nikolai with a smile on his face. “I will need my Councillor to be able to work tomorrow you know” He walked to her side.

Anaya sighed, “Yeah yeah”.

“You know,” He stood beside her. “Even though it’s supposed to be my day, you’re the one gathering all the attention” He flashed a grin.

Anaya rolled her eyes, “These people ask the most inane questions” She shook her head. “I get people asking how I plan on bringing developments to the country,” She waved her hand. “But how am I supposed to know what kind of woman the new king would be willing to marry?” She turned her hand.

He shook his head in disdain but he was smiling, “Ah, the nobles” He tilted his head briefly. “They tend to do that quite a lot, you’ll get used to it”.

“Perhaps you should tell them that the King’s looking for a seamstress who plays the eighteen string Khatur”.

Anaya turned to him, “Why specifically the eighteen string?” She raised a brow. “Why not the twelve?”.

“I” He began. “am a cultured man Anaya” He spoke as dramatically as he could manage with the guests watching them. “The eight string is for uncultured fools, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Anaya put her glass down. “I don’t have much interest in string instruments”.

He paused briefly then spoke, “I’d have to thank you for your advice” His voice was much lower and serious.  “Really helped me get through all this”.

Anaya looked at him and gave the barest shake of his head, “Well I’m not one to offer advice,” She met his gaze. “But I’m glad I could help” Her lips formed a small smile.

……………………………………………

The topic had come up the previous morning. Anaya had been in her study, working, when Zoya and Genya had shown up to have tea with her.

“Nikolai doesn’t seem very thrilled about it,” Zoya had pointed out.

Genya nodded, “He appears distressed” She lowered her voice. “After all he’s endured, I’m not sure if he wishes to be King all the same.”

“But he has to,” Zoya said.

Genya gave a distant nod, pondering upon something. “Anaya” She turned to her.

“Hmm?” Anaya looked away from her papers. 

“You should speak with him”.

Anaya furrowed her brows, “What why?”.

Genya picked up her teacup, “He needs someone to tell him that he doesn’t need to fret about being the King”.

Anaya looked at her with an utterly confused look, “Why me? Why can’t either of you speak with him?”. 

She glanced at Zoya. “Well not her, but why can’t you do it”

Zoya rolled her eyes.

“I don’t…really speak with him” Genya said, hesitation lingering in her voice. “Given all that has happened”.

Genya had been pardoned only because of Alina Starkov. So there still was some hesitation between her and Nikolai. And Anaya had the feeling he didn’t fully trust her yet.

“Plus, he does seem to listen to you,” Zoya added.

Anaya raised her brows.

“He does, actually,” Genya agreed.

So Anaya had spoken with him. 

Not the entire day. The only time she’d seen him was when she’d been walking down the hall with the Finance Minister. 

When she’d been walking back to the Little Palace at night, then she’d seen him. Standing near the lake, almost irrecognizable.

"Nervous about the big day?" Anaya asked as she walked towards him. 

He turned to her in utter curiosity. His gaze softened upon the sight of her, "Well yeah" he sighed. "It's quite weird".

 He looked up at the night sky, the gleaming stars. "Even though I've been preparing for this my entire life, it still seems very daunting". 

She stood next to him.

 "It is understandable" she met his gaze. "I mean it's not everyday you get to be the King" she tilted her head. "It can be quite strange, when the moment you've been waiting, preparing for so long, finally comes". Her voice was low, the breeze on a summer night, making the trees waver gently. 

"For a long while, it almost seems impossible".

 "Improbable, actually" Nikolai lifted a finger, a corner of his mouth turned up.

 "What?" She said, utterly perplexed.

 "Nothing is truly impossible, it's only ever improbable".

 She nodded briefly in amusement, "Well, alright".

The silence lingered in the air, gentle, comforting, a hand held in another.

“Is this what you wanted to do?” Nikolai spoke, turning towards her.

She furrowed her brows in confusion.

“To be the council leader,  run the country?” He amended.

She looked at him, startled by the question but soon, her gaze softened. “Well, I’ve been certain for a long while” she looked at her hands. “That I wish to help the people, work for their betterment”. 

“And if being the Councillor is my way to do it, then I’m content with this job.” She lifted a shoulder.

She turned to the sky, admiring the gleaming stars, the moon at the centre of it all, shining the brightest.

She could feel his gaze on her, lingering in the silence. She didn’t look at him, she didn’t believe she could.

“It’s not easy,” he finally spoke. “Pretending to be your best version, when you’re still picking up the pieces”.

“Isn’t that what we’re all doing?,” she said, finally turning towards him. “Pretending to be okay when we’re not?”.

He nodded, looking at the sky, appearing as if he’s reminiscing.

“You’ll make a great King,” Anaya’s voice wavered in the air. 

He met her gaze, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. 

“Especially because you’ll have an immensely talented Councillor by your side” She lifted her grinning, a small grin playing on her lips.

He smiled, “That, I will”.

[ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal]

Don’t ever tell yourself that you’re not enough, I am certain that you’re truly fine

PART SEVEN

Ot8 x reader

Word count: 650

Just a warning, this is my first fanfic! Does have age regression themes so if you’re not a fan, I ask that you respectfully just don’t read <3 also this will definitely have some angst

!THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION!

“Maybe we should go…” Felix speaks up almost quietly, feeling like they’re now invading a conversation that should be private.

You look at Han, trying to search anywhere that he’s just messing with you. But you know that Han would never do that, never say something with so much emotion just for it to be a stupid prank in the end.

The others gradually leave the room, Changbin having to be dragged out by Hyunjin. Once it’s just you and Han, alone, his brown glassy eyes start looking deep into yours. “I would never lie to you about that…” Han says softly, his face serious yet gentle.

“How long?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper as if you still don’t believe Han. It’s hard to believe that the guy you been in love with since you first laid eyes on him, would like you back.

He takes a shaky breath as he starts to slightly fidget, something he tends to do when his anxiety starts to act up. “R-Remember when you came to my house for Christmas a-and we spent the whole time in my room watching different anime’s?”

You nod and blush at the memory.

“You fell asleep, snuggled up against me…”

Han continues, his voice shaky as if he’s afraid to voice his feelings. “That was when, uhh, you know… when I started to fall for you…”

“Ji, that was not even a week after we first met.” You say softly, your mind going wild.

He nervously laughs, now avoiding looking into your eyes. “Was it?” He ask anxiously, as if he didn’t know that himself.

“If that’s the case, I win.” You say proudly, trying to lessen his anxiety, taking the weight out of the conversation.

Han looks at you confused, “you win? What do you mean “you win”?”

“I’ve been in love with you longer,” you say with a smile as you notice his anxiety slowly fade to shock.

“I didn’t know this was a competition, princess.” Han says with a smirk, now he starts to sit by you. “All this time, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

You nod, turn on the couch to face him. “It seems like we both didn’t say anything for nothing,” you say laughing.

After a while, things become serious again. “So where does that leave us?” Han ask, looking soft into your eyes.

“Where do you want it to leave us?” You ask. You never were good at making decisions, but Han never was good either.

“The right option is for yall to go on a date, but what do I know.” Minho says, walking back into the living room. He’s been eavesdropping the whole time.

Han and your heads snap into his direction. “Hyung, how long have you been there?” Han ask, his cheeks turning red.

Minho pretends to think, “practically the whole time. I had to make sure my babies were leading themselves in the right direction.”

“My babies” makes you and Han blush. Though Minho said it in a teasing tone, there’s still a hint of truth to it. Han knows your little crush on Minho just like you know of Han’s crush on Minho.

“It’s not a good thing to eavesdrop, Min.” You say softly, laughing a bit which causes Minho to playfully hold up hands up.

“In my defense…” he starts to say then puts his hands back, “yeah I don’t have an excuse… other than wanting to make sure things were going good here.”

Han and you look at eachother, then back at Minho. “Things are pretty good, I think.” Han tells Minho.

Minho starts to walk back but turns around, “okay I lied, well I didn’t but I have a real reason for being here.” He comes back and sits in another couch, facing us. “I want to go with yall on yall date.”

(If anyone has request for future chapters or just one shots, fill free to let me know!)

(Taglist is open)

TAGLIST: @puppyminnnie @galaxy4489 @xxeiraxx @yunhospuppy

[nicherayyy]

Tomorrow is Halloween, so I'd like to see something themed about that, sorry that I'm asking for it only now! How about "Child Reader Celebrates Halloween with La Squadra"? Can we see Sorbet and Gelato too?

That's literally adorable!! I can't celebrate halloween this year because of the uni assignments so request like that just warms my heart😭

La Squadra x Child Reader Celebrating Halloween🎃

First of all I'm not sure that La Squadra will be a huge fan of Halloween

But for you? Everything

Although I believe some of them celebrated this holiday long before you joined them

*cough* Melone *cough* Formaggio

So what costume each of them would get??

I definitely see Melone in a doctor costume, not a sexualised version but more like a full equipped surgeon or smthn

Ghiaccio would wear a Frankenstein costume, I won't elaborate

Sorbet and Gelato are matching!! Definitely Bonnie and Clyde (they wear it like every year cuz they're to lazy to think of anything else)

Formaggio would wear something "embarrassing", as Illuso likes to call it. Like those weird alien costumes

Yeah, that one

Pesci adores Halloween so let me tell you his costumes are amazing!! I believe he's tailoring them himself

This year he chose a Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz

He begged Prosciutto to match with him but he declined :(

Pros is old schooled so he wears a God Father costume and calls it a day

Illuso is a vampire

And believe me, he spent a whole hour in front of the mirror to look fabulous

His costume is the second best (Pesci's still looks better)

Risotto is the laziest of them all

He just wears a Ghostface mask he bough a few years ago

But he still looks cool in it

Your costume is still the best!! Pesci spent a lot of time sewing it and he did an amazing job

So I'm not lying when I tell that you'll have the best costume in Italy

Risotto is the one who goes trick or treating with you

He takes a lot of photos of you to put them in his wallet afterwards (and some of them in the shared La Squadra's photo album)

You'll have the whole basket of candies in less than 40 minutes

You definitely should be proud of yourself

Unfortunately you won't be able to eat all of them in one sitting because of Prosciutto, I'm sorry😔

He just hides the basket on top of the fridge so you won't get them

Illuso still gets you them when no one's watching, so you'll be fine

La Squadra definitely won't go crazy with decorations, but a few carved pumpkins are still necessary

Sorbet and Gelato helped you to carve one of them

It was the neatest of them all

Be prepared for a horror movie night

Not the "Hereditary" type, but "The Nightmare Before Christmas" type

So yall spent solid 4 hours watching the Halloween classic

Formaggio tried to scare you a few times but got some dirty looks from the team

Of course he retrieved

You end up falling asleep on the couch

But don't worry, someone will carry you to your bed