#and it also doesn’t help that I want this happening next time I see him KAKGKAKGKAKKD
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ashwhowrites · 3 days ago
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Hihi!! So glad requests are open again and I caught it!! I’ve been craving some pervert Eddie 🥴🥴
Eddie is avoiding Carver and slips through a door (the door happens to be the back entrance to the girls showers that was left unlocked but he dk that). He’s hiding when a girl walks in to the shower. The first time he doesn’t look. He leaves quickly. But he can’t help but go back the next day and the door is unlocked again. He talks himself out of going in. And again the next day. Finally he caves and sneaks back in hears the shower running and reader is showering (putting on an exaggerated show). He cums in his pants. Can’t help but come back the next day. She’s already in the shower so he sneaks over to peek and there’s no one in the shower. Reader is behind him and quips something. Eddie is terrified and stammers apologizes and is hating himself and disgusted with himself like he has been the whole time. He’s on his knees begging her forgiveness when she chuckles, drops her towel and is like “who do u think kept unlocking the door?” (So she saw carver chasing after Eddie and unlocked the door, hoping to find him and talk with him because she likes him. But didn’t see him cause he was hiding so she just took a shower. Then she heard the door shut and realized he had been in there. Gets excited by the idea he was watching her, and unlocks the door in the hopes he’ll come back. Except that first time she got too caught up in teasing to actually speak so she tricks him.) And then smut or fade to black as suits ur mood.
So like pervert reader pervert Eddie.
But also if this is an ick or anything for u no worries at all! It’s a yum for me but it might not be for someone else. Feel free to change it to feel not ick, or just not do. Only love and hugs here friend, I 💖 ur writing and am so thankful u give us stories!
I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻
⚠️pervert eddie
Watching you
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Eddie panted as he slid through an unlocked door, closing it quickly. He listened as Jason's footsteps ran past the door and he let out a relieved sigh. Eddie looked around and realized he was in the girl's locker room, the thought alone made his cock twitch. He froze when he heard the sound of water being turned on. He fought with everything in him not to look, slipping back out the door.
Eddie found himself standing outside the locker room door the next day. He could hear the water running and desperately wanted to open the door, curious about who was behind it. He shook his head and walked away, disgusted about his interest.
He returned the next day, the doorknob burning his hand. He felt like he was being called. He looked around the hallway, checking that the coast was clear before he slipped in. He could hear the water running, closing the door quietly behind him.
He crept over to the showers, hiding behind a locker. A girl was facing the showers, her back facing Eddie. He gulped as his eyes raked down her body. He felt his cock grow hard as he took in the roundness of her ass, the water dripping down her skin. He pressed down on his hard-on, sighing at the pleasure. He moaned quietly to himself when she slowly turned on.
He blushed when he saw her face, it was Y/N. One of the hottest girls in school was naked and showering right in front of him. A girl he thought about many times alone in his room.
He licked his lips as she rubbed the soap around her breasts. He bucked his hips, humping the air as she moaned out. Her hands massaged the soap into her skin, circling her nipples as she cleaned herself. Eddie softly palmed himself, moving against his hand as her hands slid down her body.
He locked his lips shut so no sounds escaped, watching as her hand slid between her thighs. She spread her feet apart, her wet pussy on display. Eddie moved against his hand faster as she slid two fingers between her folds, letting out whiny moans. He shivered at the sounds she made, fantasies in his head. She moved her hands to rub between her thighs, turning around and bending over to wash her legs. Eddie felt his stomach tightening as her cunt and ass were on display. He pathetically rubbed himself over his jeans, his eyes rolling back as he came undone in his pants.
~~~
Eddie wasn't pleased with his actions. He told himself it was disgusting and it should not happen again. But he was aching to go into the locker room. He stood outside of it, telling himself to walk away before he did something he would regret by morning. The sound of the shower snapped him into reality, and before he knew it he was walking in.
He crept in just like yesterday, but the shower was empty.
"Are you my secret visitor?"
Eddie jumped out of his skin as a voice came from behind. He turned around, fear in his eyes as Y/N stood in a towel.
"I heard some sounds yesterday during my shower, did they come from you?" she teased
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry," Eddie rambled, "I was wrong. I totally invaded your privacy and I'm a disgusting person. Please don't hate me." She turned her head as she watched him panic. Her silence made Eddie panic more, making him drop to his knees.
"I'll never do it again. I'm so fucking sorry. I'm gross and a pervert and upset by my actions and I know I'm very wrong," he stuttered over and over.
"You'll never watch me in the shower again?" she asked, suspiciously squinting her eyes.
"I promise!" His brown scared eyes looked up at her, making her feel like she had all the power in the world. She smirked, dropping her towel. His eyes went huge and didn't hesitate to look at the exposed skin.
Y/N mocking laughed, making his eyes snap back up to her eyes. He blushed as he realized his mistake. "Did you ever wonder why the door was unlocked?"
Eddie truly didn't give it much thought, just appreciated how easy it was.
"I wanted you to see me, Eddie," she said. He shivered as her hand cupped his jaw. He felt breathless as she looked down at him.
"You did?" he whimpered out. A flash of excitement in his eyes.
"I think you're adorable. I heard you running from Jason, figured I'd help you out and we could talk. But I felt you watching me yesterday, decided to give you a show. Did you like it as much as I did, baby?" She purred.
"God yes," Eddie whispered. Y/N smiled and moved her hand into his hair, yanking his head back. Eddie cried out but his hard cock showed he liked it.
"Since you spied on me, I think you should make it up to me, yeah?"
Eddie nodded, ignoring how his hair was pulled. "Anything."
She lifted her leg and placed it on his shoulder. He licked his lips as her pussy ghosted above his mouth. He moaned as she shoved his head against her clit.
"Eat up, handsome," she smirked. A moan left her throat as Eddie didn't waste a second to dive in.
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artist-issues · 1 day ago
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I think…I don’t know, the context of these three screenshots are kind of wonky.
Midwest Indigo - He’s home and he wants to be there and wants something to be happening, but instead it’s hard to be home. Kind of like how, in freezing cold Ohio after a long bleak winter, the sunshine should probably be a welcome thing—but instead it’s uncomfortably bright. And they’re on a frozen lake—if the sun thaws it out, that’s going to be even more uncomfortable.
Snap Back - He’s in a garage where he’s been alone, pondering the space between losing-progress and a fresh-start (which is what shaving your head looks like) and then he’s not alone anymore—someone is coming into the garage. They’re going to see what he’s done to his hair, and, whether for bad or good, they’re ending that moment he was having, where he pondered it all. The moment is over when the lights come in. Plus, the lights are bright in a way that looks like he’s exposed, like a convict caught in a spotlight or a naughty kid whose hiding spot has been found.
Next Semester - He was losing himself in the music, which is describing a moment—so again, lost in a moment. Then the lights are too bright and they remind him of another time when, lost in a dark moment, headlights brightly illuminated what he was doing. And almost ran him over. And he was kind of welcoming their approach because it meant he could get out of the life he was in, even if that would obviously hurt him. At least in Next Semester, the lights are followed by a voice telling him to get out of that dark moment, get out of harm’s way.
I guess the pattern is:
Miserable Moment Where You’re Stuck Thinking About Where You’ve Been vs. Where You Wanna Be -> Moment is Interrupted by Bright Lights, Which Are Uncomfortable Because They Expose You & Could Kill You -> Ultimately The Lights Are Good Because You Need to Get Out of That Miserable Moment Whether It’s Uncomfortable Or Not, & Lights Can Move You Forward
You can’t kill the Old You til the Old You is exposed. A fresh start doesn’t come from avoiding truth. Once it’s exposed by light, it can also be burned up by light—then, start fresh.
At the show I went to in Raleigh, Torchbearer kind of appeared out of nowhere (in character) and brought his torch to the B-Stage where Tyler had been singing nostalgic songs, and Tyler got into character, looking grim and interrupted and uncomfortable, and then Torchbearer (holding that natural light) gave Tyler the Clancy jacket and he put it on and they went to DEMA to fight.
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So. You know. The light seems harsh and unavoidable and uncomfortable in each of these music videos, but I think it’s actually supposed to lead to something good, even if that good is currently seen in a feared and uneasy perspective.
“This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God.” (John 3:20-21)
After all, what is Blurryface? Insecurity. And insecurity is self-focus. And self-focus loves to over-analyze “Will I ever get this right or will I always fail.” That type of analysis is actually just pride, trying to “get better” in your own power. “Nobody needs to see how messed up I am, they just need to see me fix it.” Insecurity. But the Light exposes everything—how messed up you are, and how you need Help to fix it.
Maybe this is wishful thinking.
But please oh please if the Light is representative of God, I hope it shows Him off the right way.
“I can feel the light shine on my face”
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dumplingsjinson · 11 months ago
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“I’ve missed you,” Character B murmurs, holding Character A closer to them, a soft noise of appreciation slipping from Character A’s mouth as they lean into Character B’s warm embrace.
“I’ve missed you...” Character B groans, hips thrusting into Character A’s as Character A lets out a soft whimper at the sensation of Character B slowly filling them up to the brim. “So fucking much, you don’t even know,” Character B breathes out, dipping their head down a little and resting their forehead against Character A’s.
“Mmm,” Character A murmurs, clenching around Character B on purpose, enjoying the soft gasp slipping out of Character B’s mouth. “I’ve missed you, too,” Character A says softly, hand wrapping around the nape of Character B’s neck. “I’ve missed this, too,” Character A says, pulling them down for a long awaited kiss.
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elizzsush · 5 months ago
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Merfolk Courting Rituals | TWST
Octavinelle Dorm X Reader
Azul X Reader, Jade X Reader, Floyd X Reader,
---- Merfolk typically have instinctual ways they begin 'courting' or a relationship, in the deep sea you need to be sure of your partner after all. (Non-Human courting rituals part 2/3)
Savanaclaw Ver. | Diasomnia Ver.
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Floyd:
It was spring when it happened. Almost summer. The days we’re warming up and everyone was suffering a bit for it.
Usually, you would be able to go about your business alone, or perhaps with the company of Grim if he felt like it. Today however, a certain eel was towering over your shoulder. “Shrimpy~” he’d giggle, a shiver was sent down your spin at his voice.
You slowly turned around. “A-ah? Hey Floyd…” you smiled warily. You usually, like most people in school, avoided the eel like the plague. He flashed his sharp teeth at you and extended his hand, the other one in his pocket in a more relaxed manner then your posture.
“A tooth…?” You squinted at the item, it was pointy: like his own teeth.
Realistically, you didn’t really wanna hold this. Not that you’d tell him that. You glanced up at him again and saw those same teeth, not a single one out of place. “Do ya like it?~”
He leaned closer to your face, his eyes widened ever so slightly in a more intimidating manner. Clearly his lack of personal space had never changed. “Um… yes! I do…?!” You were quick to awnser back.
Pleased with himself, he giggled loudly and walked away.
What was that about?
After that he’d keep approaching you with odd gifts… at one point he presented you with the largest pearl you’ve ever laid your eyes on and then the next day he gifted you with a handful of beautiful scales.
You dreaded to think about the poor mer behind that gift…
Either way, this was suspicious, right? When Floyd leech approached you, you either run away or get squeezed, why were you getting gifts? It also didn’t help your relationship with the Housewarden of Heartslabyul, who now avoids you like the plague.
Seriously, when you walk into a room Riddle happened to be in, he jumps up and leaves immediate- sometimes even running away like you were his tormentor instead of Floyd!
You’d also noticed that Floyd would yawn more around you… You didn’t think you were boring either because he wouldn’t be around you if you were boring to begin with! “Are you getting enough sleep?”
“Eh? Shrimpy doesn’t like me?” Floyd pouted, You noticed him glance at your mouth breifly. “Shrimpy~ that’s rude.” He’d whine louder, a darker look in his eyes than usual. You had no clue if you had offended him or not that time…
Another time was this happened. It actually happened far more often than you would think or enjoy.
“Shrimpy~” he’d say repeatedly to annoy you while you walked around school. Like when a sibling kept poking at you and claiming they weren’t touching you, but he had his hands behind his head as he followed behind you a bored expression on his face. He had been hanging around you more.
Sadly that meant your friends were less likely to approach you. And if they did it was because they neglected to see the towering eel boy.
“My, My, Floyd had taken quite a liking to you.” Jade stated offhandedly one day. You were at the Mostro Lounge (Azul was tired of Floyd skipping work and offered you free meals to hang out so Floyd would get back to work.)
You glanced at the Eel with a confused look. “What do you mean?” He simply looked down at the small necklace you had made with Floyd’s… gifts of a tooth and scales. I’m your defense they made very nice jewelry. Was it a bit messed up to be wearing some students scale and possibly their tooth? Perhaps… but you were poor and wanted something nice to wear.
With the same odd mysterious smile, Jade was off to serve the next costumer.
So you took it upon yourself to figure out what that meant!
First you went asking around Octavinelle. This was a bad idea because most students avoid you like you were Floyd.
Thankfully you managed to corner one, A trembling student you was glancing behind and around you the whole while you talked to him. "So?" You finally asked, a hand on your hip.
"Uh... What? C-could you repeat the question...?" He finally looked to you.
"Whats up with Floyd!" You finally snapped a bit, with a groan and a small eyeroll you glared at the smallfry.
"A-aren't you his...?"
"What on earth does that mean..." You groaned in annoyance too yourself. You were still, very, extremely lost.
Jade:
Whatever do you mean? You started courting him first if he wasn’t mistaken.
It was a Monday afternoon during autumn you believed, when he was serving you in the Mostro Lounge while you were studying. (They had a exclusive deal that lasted only that day) It was pretty late and so, you, like a very normal human, yawned. “My, If I’m not mistaken this is hardly that time of year.” He replied slyly as he gave you your half off drink.
You just glanced at him in confusion as he bowed and excused himself, ever the polite waiter.
That was… odd.
What was stranger was, now Jade has this habit of gifting you things he found on his hikes. It started with a flower to then a mushroom and for some reason he had gifted you a rock? He said he found it “fascinating” So he gifted it to you.
You didn’t really know either…
This whole issue began to intimidate you. I mean, Jade leech, gifting you things? There had to be some kind of motive behind it! There is always a motive behind the Octa-trios advances.
So, not wanting to owe him anything, you began gifting him things in return. “I found this at the store and thought you might like it.” You’d smile warily and a bit nervously as you extended a hand, in it a Dorsel Fin candy.
He’d smile and accept your gift, you’d breath a sigh of relief and go about your day as usual. At least now you didn’t owe him anything!
Now it became a habit, or a fun little game! Whenever Jade would gift you something, you’d look for something of equal value or better! Something he’d like. You’d attempt to one up him, but it was as if he knew about your game somehow and wasn’t letting you win.
Eventually it started to become something else, he was just... always there now? You'd turn around and almost scream! Because: was he there the whole time?
The worst part? He helped you so much more than half the time you turned around, and he wasn't there, you wished he was. He was making your life harder by not being there!
Here is the thing, you can't just get someone use to having a nice, helpful helping hand who is also attractive and then just take that away! Its inhumane.
You gifted him a terrarium you made yourself.
You didn't know why you did it. Maybe you liked his company and wanted to show your appreciation, maybe it was just because you were fond of him.
It was pretty out of the blue as well. You had been working on it for a week now, it wasn't anything remotely at Jade's own level but it was nice. (It better have been because that hike to gather everything almost killed you.)
Was it worth it? Yes. Seeing his eyes widen slightly before he regained his composure was absolutely worth it. He almost had to cough into his hand in Suprise.
Jade wasn't the most expressive, but you had a few ideas of what his Suprise would be look like. "Do you like it?"
"I do perfect. Thank you."
Note: Jade will never confess. It'll be one of those relationships where you don't know how it started but now your married so... Have fun!
Azul:
He was hopeless. Everybody knew this simple fact, except of course: you.
He was a businessman, not a... romance man!
From the way he'd tug at his tie like it was choking him when you were around, to how flushed he'd get when you even glanced in his direction. This guy was absolutely hopeless.
He actually turned... A very bright red was he turning purple as well? and immediately fixes his posture when you're in the room.
Thankfully, it takes two to tango and you were interested in him as well.
So, yeah, it was up to you to pursue the shady businessman who isn't very shady around you and instead acts like, in his own words, "an idiot."
So, no... he doesn't exactly court you. You court him.
You bring him cool things you find, blabber on about what you like and what you think he would like. He was... very confused and flustered, but happy you were there.
It was only after you took an active role in the relationship that he relaxed slightly and began to play along. Giving gifts back and ranting about the business and some poor unfortunate soul he scammed helped.
As everything began to relax in your guy's relationship. It got too comfortable, well, comfortable wasn't the right word. He was comfortable, you were suffering.
Why wasn't he making a move?! Didn't he like you?
Meanwhile, he was feeling pretty good. Jade and Floyd had gotten to a place where they don't tease him as much about not being able to make a move with you. (He didn't you made all the moves.) And his crush was showering him with attention!
You'd glance at him nervously while you sat at Mostro Lounge. He was counting his contracts. His new ones he had started to reaccumulate.
You physically couldn't hold it back anymore. It had been a week. A whole week of nothing new happening between the two of you. The words fell from your lips fast, like rushing water you tried to hold back but couldn't. It would have always slipped through the cracks in your fingers anyway... So you asked him, the burning question. "I like you. Do you like me...?" You finally blurted out.
"What?" He froze up. His head whipping in your direction he didn't know what to do or say and- he was ruining this wasn't he?
Azul had always been an anxious boy, it helped him- Because despite those anxieties he'd show them. he'd overcome them! He always had. But what do you do exactly when the person your heart has been beating oddly for asked that?
"I- um..." was all you needed before you stood up and left. Trying to fight back the small burn that began in your eyes before you cried. "Wait!" He called out but you had been out the door far too soon to even remotely hear him.
It was... a whole thing. He hated it, you hated it, and despite him refusing to admit it, you both cried over it. You always did love the classic miscommunication trope. But it happened. And frankly, you' prefer it this way in the long run. Because when everything was cleared up...
You got to kiss the octopus boy!
A smile on your face when you pulled away, he stared at you slightly shocked but very happy.
In a side note, after you kissed him, he wondered around aimlessly for a good while before he broke out of whatever spell you put him under. (You're still the magicless perfect of ramshackle...)
___________
Note: Floyd is my favorite. I hope you could tell lol Do I adore Azul? Yes! Was he the last one I wrote so it was kind of rushed and not very long? Also yes... I tried to make it a bit special-er?
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inthehouseoffinwe · 2 days ago
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Ooooo love this!!! Adding on and agreeing to this and your tags op! Listen, I love a politically smart Maglor as much as the next person, as the son of the Crown Prince you kinda have to be. But I love the idea that his songs didn’t really cross his mind as a political tool until several years into Beleriand.
Even then it remained a passion. Sure, he’ll make a piece for certain occasions if it’s called for, but even his brothers don’t push him into that. Maedhros has only asked him to do so maybe two or three times? Because it’s one of the few things left from a time they can never go back to, and it’s something so *Maglor* they don’t want to turn that part of him into a weapon too.
Like with my siblings, there are certain things they do that I’d never ask them to turn into a rigid job, because it’s something that brings them joy and I don’t want to take that away from them. Especially during difficult times.
So yeah, the Fëanorions could do with him being a little more aware to the ramifications of some of his compositions, but everyone has their vices. The comfort from seeing him do something purely from his heart is worth more than anything else.
Moving into Maglor as a person, he’s good at violence, had to be to survive an Age of high stress battles. But it doesn’t seem to be as deeply rooted in him as his brothers, and singing is something he does on the daily without thinking too deeply on general impact. Including songs for battle. It’s just. What he does.
He thinks on the emotional power but not specifically as a weapon, but as a ‘what tune/words/etc work best for this moment. What seems right.’ Get me?
The Noldolantë was probably one such work. Created as a release for his and his people’s pain, a way to process everything that’s happened. Probably what helped him stick around for longer than Mae in the end. He’d already accepted everything he’d done, good and bad, long before we got to the end of the Age.
Maglor ultimately became a villain in the story and made some pretty messed up choices. But he’s not inherently evil, is specifically pulled out the narrative for his compassion and the redeemable aspects (as you mentioned in your tags) and that’s what makes makes him so interesting.
Especially when you consider Pengolodh as an in-universe narrator who highlights this softer more redeemable side, when Maglor should be despised the most as the survivor who partly led four kinslayings, without the saving grace of military victories against Morgoth that Maedhros had.
But yeah, Maglor’s such a fascinating character because we know so little about him. He exists silently in the background until very specific moments and it’s fun to play around with who he actually might be.
(Also, agreed. The only real similarly I see between Fëanor and Maglor is their passion for their craft. But specifically the passion a young Fëanor had, inventing for the sake of inventing.)
TBH my ‘vision’ of Maglor is more of a music nerd than any kind of drama queen fanon makes him out to be sometimes.
Like someone who just doesn’t see the political ramifications other people saw in his songs, when it really was just a good metaphor. Someone with messy hair and pulls it back without even brushing it before going to a royal festival. The geeky, melancholic version of Finrod in his own family. A Maglor so obsessed with music and words he thinks about the sheer art of the Oath’s words rather than the context within itself or what it entails. Someone who wasn’t aware of how the Noldolantë could have been taken the wrong way and didn’t even finish it before he vanished from history (or, who knows, he probably forgot to bring the lyrics written with him when the Gap burned), probably had a meltdown when he realized that he had lost it. Someone who loves music so much that, after all is finished, he fades while singing, because it was all he had left.
Someone who once had a joyful, innocent spirit which was brutally killed after he did.
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mywritersmind · 3 months ago
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THE MOST GORGEOUS - LN4
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summary : Lando is convinced he’s found the love of his life during media day, embarrasses himself, and can’t stop flirting!!
listen up : flirty lando! pretend it rained in zandvoort🫨
word count : 616
“Carlos!” I hear the voice before I see him, and he definitely doesn’t see me because as he slides into the room he looks directly at his friend, “Carlos! Did you see that reporter!? Fucking hell, She’s the most gorgeous woman i’ve ever seen! And I saw her completely rage at-”
He spots me then.
I’m sitting in a corner, watching him talk about me. I have to say, My ego is extraordinarily boosted. His hands slap down to the side of his body, his eyes going wide.
I can’t help but laugh, “Hi.” I say, glancing at Carlos who’s already cracking up.
Lando puts his hand on the bridge of his bandaged nose, clearing his throat, he hesitantly looks back up at me, “Hello.”
“You know, I prayed for something comical to happen today! Thank you so much, mate!” Carlos slaps his friend on the back before making his way out, shaking his head at me, “See you!”
“Um…” Lando swallows, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t talking about you?” I’m normally not so self centered but I really believe he is talking about me.
“I saw you get escorted into the ‘no press’ area…” He nods, his lips in a thin line, “I was also the only woman in the media pen.”
“Right! Of course.” He leans his arm against a chair, using the other one to motion at me, “Well… Nice job yelling at Vowles.”
I smile and stand, pulling my skirt down a bit, “He deserved it.” I shrug and grab my purse and paddock pads.
“No doubt.” He watches me walk past, “Wait!” I turn and tilt my head, “Would you want to- get coffee?” he looks nervous.
“No… sorry.”
At this, he looks shocked at my blatant refusal, “Uh… That’s alright. Hey! I never got your name.”
I nod, “True.” I walk out and I hear him call after me.
“I’m Lando! By the way!”
⋆。‧˚⋆
“Great race today, Lando.” I say into the microphone as the man stands in front of me. He’s sweaty and holding onto his water for dear life.
I’ve never seen his eyes so blue. Not that I’ve seen much of him in person… I’m new to the interviewer game, made my way up slowly, “Easy to do well when I know you’re watching.”
He just won Max’s home race and apparently winner Lando is a very flirty being. I raise a brow, “How will you be celebrating tonight? Big party?”
He runs his hand over his mouth, “Nah… looking to hang out with someone special.” Is he… asking me out? Now!?
I clear my throat, trying to stay professional, “Sounds Lovely.”
“Hopefully it will be! If she says yes.” He’s looking directly into my eyes, my cheeks feeling hot.
“Mmm who would say no to Lando Norris?”
He licks his lips, “I know one person.” I shake myself out of it, remembering the camera facing him and the mic in my hand.
“So! I’m assuming you're pleased with tyre management today? Pretty wet track, Is that harder or more fun?”
His mouth pulls into a slow smirk and I know i’m doomed, “Prefer it wet after a few boring races.” He shrugs and I roll my eyes because I know what he’ll say next, “Quite slick today but nothing i’m not used to.”
His media manager taps his shoulder, letting us know time is up, “Have a good day celebrating, Norris.”
“Appreciate it, Y/n.” He winks and turns around. I sigh and turn the other way, praying my cheeks will cool down.
He knows my name.
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beloveds-embrace · 19 days ago
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DUKEDOM!141 AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙏🙏🙏🙏 (/nf please and thank you :])
Original post
Enjoy!! :D
Something all of them like to do is doll you up, and it becomes almost a private little routine between you and them.
John, as your husband (can you tell I love referring to him like this?), steadily takes control of deciding what you wear for the day even long before your request. It’s something that just… happens. He comes into your bedroom early in the mornings, and your maids scatter away to leave you both be with little giggles, excited at the prospect of you two finally getting ‘close’.
John doesn’t care for them. He greets you with a soft good morning (a few weeks later, he’d greet you the same but would gently caress your face with the back of his hand, the touch so gentle despite his roughened skin. It makes you into a blushing mess, though you tell yourself it’s just so that the peeking maids won’t suspect anything) and then goes straight to your closet, sweeping through the rows and rows of delicate, soft dresses with a discerning eye to select what attire you’ll wear for the day.
Of course, he does ask you what you feel like wearing, how you feel today in general, where you plan on going or meeting- everything to ensure the dress he’ll choose for you would be perfect. John doesn’t wait to see you in the dress, though.
He knows he’ll be seeing you all adorned and dressed up later, when you come down to dine with him. He can compliment you and pat himself on the back, then.
If he makes sure to match his cufflinks with the colors you are wearing, it will simply make whoever notice it think you two are such a lovely couple. And he still hopes that your maids will accidentally not tighten or cover up your hemline just so he can fix it himself for you.
John aside, Kyle takes care of your hair and jewelry. He makes you sit on the vanity, still alone and with none of your maids around, and then he begins the tender ritual of brushing your hair (if it’s not too curly for daily brushings). His hands, warm and careful and gentle, would then take care of oiling each strand. No oils or butters have been spared in the efforts of tending to you, and Kyle himself often turns the routine into a simple, but so effective, head massage session for you.
(Later, Kyle wonders what he needs to say and do to take over the job of the maids who help you bathe. You are always complimenting how good his hands feel on your hair, and he can show you how much better he is at using them for your body.)
Johnny eventually begins doing your makeup, on certain occasions. Once the truth comes out, the two of you are closer, and on one night, he tells you about his big family, his sisters and how they’d make him and his brothers help them get ready for events and parties.
It’s a simple question born out of your curiosity- what’s the makeup like where you were born, Johnny?- that has him in your bedroom often now, the other chefs taking care of the kitchen while his hands, clean and gentle, dab creams and whatnot on your face so delicately- like you are one of the cupacakes he decorates for your tea time.
He wants to kiss you so badly. You look so pretty like this, eyes closed and expression peaceful, patient and so trustful of his ministrations. He really, really wants to kiss you and see if the lipstick he’d applied on your pretty lips tastes as sweet as it smells.
Simon, though, is the one who slowly begins adding more and more to your dresses. John already supplies you with so much, but Simon is the one largely in charge of the silk and fabric importation and he knows well what styles will be popular next season, what styles will looks better on you and which colors suit you best. It’s not just dresses, but also matching fabrics and ribbons to go in your hair for when Kyle or your maids style, and for your pretty neck during more casual tea parties.
Not occasionally seeing you in the dresses he sends doesn’t bother him; you will be spoiling the others with the sight, and he can listen to them thank him in several ways afterwards and rest with the thought of you all dolled up, happy and thriving with them.
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deadsetobsessions · 9 months ago
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Of all the places he could have been summoned to, Danny Phantom had never considered a private school’s bathroom to be one of them.
With glowing green skin, a shock of flickering flames for hair, and a suit made out of the spaces between collapsing stars, Danny stared down at the stupefied faces of Gotham Academy’s finest students. One of them had their face in their hands, having caught sight of him and undergoing all the stages of grief in but a moment.
They sat around a circle that he was appropriately impressed with considering the limited space they had to work with. Danny could see the empty stalls, some of which were adorned with drawings and writings that were left by the, no-doubt, extremely busy caretaker.
“Seriously, a bathroom?” Danny wrinkled his nose.
“Holy shit, that actually worked?” One of the kids blurted out, then slammed their hands on top of their mouth.
“Did you expect it not to?” Danny squinted at them, frowning. It’s Friday, so it’s not like he had much to do, but Danny would prefer it if his time wasn’t wasted.
“No- no, your… uh, highness?”
“All of that schooling and you’re still uneducated,” one of the other ones hissed at the red headed kid who spoke. It’s “Your Majesty.” He’s a king, idiot!”
That was a pretty solid burn but, “It’s actually just Phantom. Did you guys want something? I’m busy.”
He’s not busy, but who cares?
“Uh…” the kids exchanged glances. The one in the back sighed and spoke up. He adjusted his glasses.
“We’re sorry for bothering you, Phantom. You wouldn’t happen to have a solution for dimensional separation, would you?”
“Huh.” Danny tilted his head, face souring. “I hate dimensional issues. They’re the worst. Who’s causing them?”
“His name’s Klarion!” The one who slapped a hand across his mouth earlier piped up.
“Oh! The lords of chaos or whatever. Yeah, I can help, for a price.”
Danny is against unpaid labor. Extremely against it, considering his side gig is being a half-dead vigilante. Then again, are you really a vigilante if you’re not half dead on a regular basis?
“What do you want?” Despite the reluctance from earlier, it’s clear the one with the glasses made the big decisions in this weird friend group.
“… A hundred dollars.”
“That’s it? No stipulations?” When Danny nodded, the kid had a calculating expression. “Deal.” The teen said immediately. He pulled out cash and wow, Danny’s definitely in a place with a different tax bracket.
He snatched it. Nasty burger money!
“Deal’s a deal. Also, don’t ever summon me again, but if you do, don’t ever do it in a bathroom again. You kids are so weird.” Danny floated out of the circle, grinning sharply. He formed a small bird- he doesn’t know why, but it felt right- of ice and handed it to the kid with glasses. “There. Proof of the deal.”
With that, Danny disappeared. Private school kids were so fucking weird, but… Dash and his goons were probably worse. What’s a little ritualistic summoning in the face of teenagers?
——
“I leave you guys alone for ten minutes and you summon the king of the dead?” Robin narrowed his eyes at his teammates, traitors who had the good graces to look sheepish. “How could you?! I wanted to try, too!”
Kid Flash patted him on the shoulder, a granola bar appearing in his mouth now that the possible world ending terror disappeared. “Sorry, Rob. Maybe next time! Magic still isn’t real though.”
“I’m not doing this shit in a bathroom again,” Artemis rolled back to her feet. “He sounded like he was going to rip our bones out if we ever summoned him in a bathroom again.”
“Ugh…”
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the-bi-space-ace · 1 day ago
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I have been DYING to get a minute to sit down and write out my thoughts about this because oooooooh boy you really got my brain racing with this one.
Echo and Fives have been so much of a package deal that they’ve fallen into a pattern they’re both comfortable with. Echo has a level head, confidence, and he’s very comfortable with authority figures. Fives is passionate and fiery but he also gets antsy with waiting around. The having to think about what’s coming next really gets to him whereas Echo doesn’t get that nervous.
I have noticed that there are several times Fives follows Echo’s lead, lets him take the front, and Echo is their voice. Often when you’re so intertwined with someone else you can tend to fall into patterns that work for you and I think it’s totally possible that happened for Fives and Echo.
Echo just does so well with structure, mediating, strategy and the planning process. It seems to get him more ready to get moving. Hearing about what’s going on, their mission, how they’re going to help, just gets him fired up to get going. He is never hesitant to state exactly what he thinks and he is a compelling man. When he believes in something he’s hard to ignore. Fives just wants to get out there and do it. The more he has to hear about how bad it is, how many steps it’s going to take, how dangerous it is, the more nervous he becomes. It’s like he has this anxiety about having to hear about it, sit with it, know it’s coming. The anticipation drives him up a wall he would really rather just do it and let his adrenaline do the talking.
Echo is so comfortable in the structure of it all. He likes having rules and boundaries and he likes knowing how to bend them. He’s confident, which is something I love about him. And Fives is confident too just in the ‘doing’ phase more so than the ‘planning’ phase.
I like the idea that they level each other out. That they need each other for different things. An equal and balanced partnership. A partnership that is shaken to its core at the Citadel. Fives has to learn to make up for the balancing act he lost.
And in a lot of ways he does. He changes. It’s so clear to me that by Umbara there is something different about him. The way he fights for what he thinks is right is something I’ve just come to associate with Fives but I like seeing him grow into it, find ways to speak out, and make people see him. Fives is one of those characters that really grows into himself, ya know? We see him at a few different stages of life and see how he’s changed from his cadet years and I’ll always be proud of the man Fives became.
I know Echo is proud of him, too.
I’ve always loved the idea that Echo was 60% of the chaos of the domino twins. Fives gave a good 40% of it but mostly held on for dear life and made sure Echo had someone backing him up. He knew Echo would have his back, would stand up for them and would recite every regulation he could remember to get them out of hot water. Echo may not be able to lie one bit but if he can use his knowledge against you he’s golden. The second they had a plan Fives would be all for it, ready to go, jumping in as fast as he could, but Fives knew to let Echo do the talking if they got caught so he could get them out of the hole they’d dug themselves.
I don’t know really where I was going with this just that I love it and can’t get enough of these two 🩶
Fives Thoughts
Sooooo I literally just made a post being like 'here are some fun bits from Umbara because the arc is depressing and I don't wanna talk about the sad bits' but uh... I had thoughts in the last 15 mins and now I wanna share them. 😃
And of course tagging as usual for people I'm interested to hear opinions from: @saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings @the-bi-space-ace
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It's been a while since I watched these story arcs back-to-back, so a lot of the character development is really showing atm. And one I find interesting is a shift in Fives between The Citadel and Umbara.
Fives has always had a bit of a firey personality, but up until this point he's been a little bit held back with that passion for the most part. And I'm gonna touch in something that @novaceleste and @spaceyjessa spoke about in their podcast (@coffeeandclones I was just listening to it the other day and they talk about some interesting points. Defo recommend you check it out. Also #JusticeForDroidbait2024) because it really is the basis for this whole point. Despite Fives being the brasher, slightly more hardheaded personality, and Echo being the more by-the-books one, it's Echo that tends to do a lot of the talking when authority is involved. When they speak to Shaak Ti, it's Echo that takes the lead, while Fives is a little more hesitant.
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And when they first meet Rex and Cody, Fives automatically introduces himself as CT-27-5555, despite being very open about his displeasure of being called that throughout their training. He has this louder personality but he tends to draw into himself and panic slightly when put in front of authority.
However, he still has these more fiery moments, like during his speech in ARC Troopers. When he's put in a fight, that spark within him comes out full force. "My blood is boiling for a fight." That's what drives Fives. That's where that passion comes from. He always wanted to make ARC trooper, to prove himself and to demonstrate that fire in the fight.
And yet when we get to the Citadel, he's surprisingly nervous. Echo seems to be fairly on board with everything, he's listening intently, he's down with the plan. But Fives is rather hesitant and doesn't seem totally enthused about the whole thing. They've made ARC trooper, they're being included in a specialist mission, the things that Fives so desperately worked for. But now that they're here? He's really not comfortable with it.
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And I think that Fives' passion and drive is so prominent in the heat of battle because his adrenaline is going, he's got the energy to burn and so that's when we see this fire in him. But in the quieter moments, the meetings, the in-between fights? He's nervous. Those are the moments where he can sit on it and really think about what they're up against. And what becomes really apparent is that Fives is absolutely terrified of the thing that fuels his fire. The thing he worked so hard for scares the absolute shit out of him. And for good reason.
But it's never been so much of an issue because he had Echo. Echo, who's more level headed, who feels comfortable with plans and formats and authority. He could be the comforting presence that Fives needed outside of battle, while Fives could be the spark in it. They're like fire and water. They keep each other regulated, balanced.
But then The Citadel happens.
And watching the Umbara arc, I noticed that Fives doesn't have that very noticeable fear. It's not that it's absent, it's just that it isn't so obvious all of the time. Of course, some of that is going to come with experience, he's been an ARC for longer, he's know Rex for a while so there's slightly more comfort with that level of authority, but he's definitely more consistently confident than he was before.
So my suggestion is, what if that comes as a result of losing Echo (at least in part)? He doesn't have that calming presence anymore, the one to balance his nerves. He doesn't have someone to stand firm beside him or take the bigger step for the two of them, so he's had to learn to do that himself. I think part of it is natural growth that comes with experience (to quote Rex: "experience outranks everything") but I do also think it comes with no longer having that constant other half. Fives has had to learn to balance himself.
Like I said earlier, a lot of this links back to stuff said in Nova and Jessa's podcast, so I'd recommend checking it out. But I just wanted to add my extra thoughts on it, having just watched Umbara, because it definitely stuck out to me on this rewatch.
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guiltyasdave · 3 months ago
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help me hold onto you
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pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x mutant! f!reader
word count: ~3.5k
summary: Logan deals with feeling guilty after he's accidentally cut you with his claws in his sleep.
warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be pulled, no use of y/n, Logan lifts reader up but he's superhumanly strong, so-, graphic description of an injury, graphic description of violence, angst, nightmares, Logan's pov, fighting as foreplay, unprotected p in v, rough sex, biting, praise kink, a lot of animalistic behavior due to their mutations, like they're just a little... primal, it's cute i swear, also reader looks like a human being it's just the mannerisms, fluff
a/n: guess i'm a multi fandom writer now? this literally came to me in a fever dream, very much like the logan brainrot itself lol. this is my first time writing for the man, after watching the movies - also for the first time - last week, so please be gentle with me <3 something very similar happens in the origins movie and i wanted them to explore that more, but alas, i had to do it myself.
massive thanks to @kiwisbell for assuring me that this idea isn't terrible and for freaking out about logan with me in general, to @catchallfangirl for coming up with the whole cat theme and for being so supportive, to @sizzlingcloudmentality for matching my freak and taking the cat theme to the next level, for helping me plot and for being an amazing beta reader, and to @javier-pena for listening to me rant about this idea and being so lovely and supportive <3
dividers by @saradika-graphics who is a queen <3
notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here
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Most nights, Logan sleeps easier when you’re in bed with him. Your body pressed against his, your skin soft and warm against his bare chest. One of his thighs between your legs where you’ve wrapped yourself around him, your touch moving over his torso aimlessly, fingers curling into his chest hair, your hands kneading his flesh in your sleep. The soothing little purrs that emit from your chest when you’re sound asleep. None of it bothers him, no matter how many times it disturbs his own rest. 
It keeps him grounded, feeling you next to him. He’d rather spend the whole night somewhere in that haze between waking and sleeping, listening to your sounds, your breath fanning against his skin, than being pulled under into the depths of his subconsciousness. 
He’d rather open his eyes to see you disentangling your limbs from his, stretching your whole body, arching against him as you yawn. 
He’d rather greet you with a smiling “Good morning, kitten,” waiting for that adorable little crease to appear between your brows when you pout up at him. 
“Did I do it again?” 
He doesn’t hide his grin as he nods, growing wider when you flop back against the cushions with a groan. 
“What exactly?”
“All of it.” 
Your sorry comes out muffled as you hide your face behind your hands. 
“It’s okay,” he says, leaning over you to pull your hands away and kiss the pout off your lips. Caressing that spot under your chin with two fingers, watching you go all soft, baring your throat to him. “I like it.” 
He would much rather wake up like this. 
But it’s been a long week and he’s exhausted. Exhausted enough to get lulled into a deep sleep, encased in the safe cloud of your warm body against his and your touch on his skin. Exhausted enough to dream. And his dreams are not a safe place. 
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His eyes fly open with a shout, his whole body jolting upwards, every muscle pulled taut. He doesn’t even register the claws shooting out between his knuckles, all of his instincts screaming at him to fight. 
He’s only faintly aware of the sudden yelp of pain from beside him, the movement of something jerking away from him. 
“Logan,” your voice rings through the buzzing in his ears. Smaller hands landing on his shoulders, fighting to hold him steady. 
It takes a few disoriented blinks before he recognizes the familiar bedroom, a few more deep breaths to stop his body from shaking. To clear the fog in his head enough to understand what you’re saying.
“It’s me, Logan. You’re safe, everyone’s safe, it’s okay.” 
His eyes find yours in the semi-darkness. Wide with worry, but firmly trained on his face, repeating that everything’s okay. He finally registers the familiar weight of you straddling him, understands that it’s your fingers digging into his shoulders. 
He’s still panting, not daring to look away from your face again. The one tether that keeps him from getting lost in his mind again. 
“Are you with me?” you ask, your voice softer now. 
He manages a nod, tries to smile, to wipe the deep worry of your face, but he’s not sure if his mouth even twitches. 
As the feeling slowly returns to his body, he notices something else. A kind of wetness, warm and sticky where your right hand is connected to his skin. The unmistakable tang of iron in the air. He stretches to turn on a bedside lamp, jostling you along with his movement. A quiet whimper hits his ears, so low that he’s sure you tried to suppress it. 
With a new kind of panic surging through him, he grabs hold of your arm, bringing it to his eye level. 
Three scratches ooze in deep red, just beneath your wrist. It forces a gasp from him, eyes dancing frantically between the wounds on your arm and your face. How much blood did you lose already while you were busy helping him? As if he deserved it. 
“Fuck, I’m— I’m so sorry baby, we gotta—” He stumbles over his own words, grasping at you almost blindly, panicked tears blurring his vision. He did this. 
“Logan,” you say, still so inexplicably calm. “It’s fine. Look. It’s fine.” 
You gently pry his fingers off your arm and bring your wrist up to your mouth. Your tongue darts out, drawing long licks against your marred skin, collecting the blood and gliding over the cuts in your flesh. 
It pains him to watch, but it’s the least he can do. The least he owes you. He watches you clean the blood off, watches as the wounds start shrinking at the touch of your saliva, as the skin smoothes over before his very eyes until there’s only three thin marks left, a shade lighter than the rest of your skin. 
“Look,” you tell him again, extending your arm towards him. “I told you it’s okay.” 
He knows you can do this, of course he does. Has watched you multiple times, his fascination with your powers never wavering. How fluidly you move, how quick you attack, how skilled you are at surviving. You just never had to survive him. 
You lean down on top of him until your whole torso rests on his, your thighs still on either side of him, burrowing your head into his chest. “Which war did you dream about?” you ask quietly.
Most of the time, the dreams don’t grant him the mercy to zero in on one single memory. It’s a constant stream, one fight after the other, until all he knows is shouting, fighting, blood and death.
“All of them.” 
You sigh deeply, your breath cool against his sweat-dampened skin. Raising your head a little, you start placing kisses on his chest, pressing your lips into his skin where you can feel the faint beating of his heart.
“I wish I could kiss this better, too,” you mumble. 
He chuckles humorlessly, one hand reaching into your hair to scratch at your scalp. You shudder at the touch, an approving little purr traveling up your throat. 
“It’s okay now,” he mutters, leaning in to inhale the scent of your hair. “Just— I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be.” 
It sounds so simple, falling from your lips like this. But it’s no match for the aching guilt that’s already eating at him, the questions of what if that start swirling through his mind. 
Your body is growing heavier on top of him as you relax, your breaths evening out and your eyelids fluttering shut. It soothes him, has his own breathing slowing down, but he can’t risk falling asleep again. Not like this, not with your body so close to his.
“What are you— Logan?” comes your instant protest when he moves you to your side of the mattress, your eyes flying back open, wide and mildly confused.
“I could’ve killed you,” he mutters. It could have happened so easily. Just a little deeper, just a slightly different spot. 
“No, you couldn’t,” you quip, arching an eyebrow at him. “Cats have nine lives, remember?” You sneak another quick kiss on his chest before finding his gaze again, a teasing smile on your lips. “Even kittens.” 
It’s an attempt to lighten the mood, to make him laugh. He knows that. You hate the pet name he’s given you. 
“And you’re not gonna waste one on me,” he grits out. 
Hurt flashes over your face, more pain in your eyes than when there was an actual wound on your arm. 
“It wouldn’t be—”
“Don’t you dare say it wouldn’t be a waste.” 
The words come out as a low growl, aggressive enough to send most anyone running. You don’t run. 
Your animal doesn’t like it when he growls at you. He can feel the tension rolling off of you, your hair probably standing on end. Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath, release your fingers’ grip from digging into the sheets.
“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” you tell him, resignation in your voice. 
Your eyes fall shut again, your head for once resting on your own pillow instead of his chest. He misses the weight of it instantly. You doze off quickly, your hands still pawing weakly at his side, like your body can’t help it. He almost pulls you closer himself. 
While you sleep, Logan forces his own eyes to stay wide open, staring unseeingly into the darkness. 
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It’s a quiet day. You had tried talking to him, tried to convince him that it’s okay, that it’s fine. He can’t keep listening to you insisting that him almost killing you is no big deal. He should have known, should have been more aware of the risk instead of letting himself get lost in the blissful sensation of your body curled around his every night. You’ve trusted him so completely, only for him to let you down. 
Just like he always does, the voice in his head whispers.
No matter how many times you swear that you can take care of yourself, he should still be protecting you, not actively putting you in danger while you’re fucking asleep. It’s happened once now, so it can happen again, and he knows that he could never forgive himself. 
He knows that he’s hurting your feelings. Sees how your brows knit together when he barely kisses you back throughout the day. How you bite your lip when the way you’re butting your head against his doesn’t make him chuckle like it usually does. 
He should be angry at himself. He is. But you shouldn’t be the one to catch the brunt of it, and it makes him feel even worse. You always say that he should talk about his feelings more, that it would help to let them out. He suspects that you’re right. He just doesn’t know how.
By evening, you’ve grown uncharacteristically quiet, but he keeps catching your burning glares at him when you think he isn’t looking. Finally, after you’ve stared at him for what felt like an eternity and he’s pointedly ignored you, you seem to snap.
“Can you stop it?!” It leaves your mouth in a hiss, triggering his instincts before the words even register in his brain. 
“Stop what?” he growls back. 
Your fingers curl as a low snarl escapes you. Normally, neither of you lets your animalistic side take over like that. Normally, you’re good at soothing each other. 
But tonight, he can feel the energy crackle between you, the tension begging to be released. 
“You know what! This fucking— sulking or whatever it is you think you’re doing!” 
He rises to his feet, pulling up to his full height. One of your hands twitches. 
“I’m not—” 
You charge at him with an angry shout before another word can leave his mouth. You’re on him in a flash, grabbing onto his arm and letting your momentum carry you until you’re behind him, your nails digging into his shoulders until you’re perched on his backside. 
Whipping his head around, he bares his teeth at you, growls rumbling in his chest. You angrily hiss in his face and swing a hand at him in return, leaving angry red scratches down his cheek. They heal and fade as quickly as they came, but a triumphant grin flashes over your features regardless. 
“Come on, Logan,” you breathe into his ear. The edge in your voice sends fire straight through him. “Fight. You’re not gonna break me.” Your canines nip at his earlobe, somewhere between affectionate and challenging.
He tries shaking you off, but your grip on him only tightens. He collects a fist of your hair instead, pulling harshly to keep your teeth away from his throat. 
“Enough,” he grits, trying desperately to regain control, to become more human again, to smother the primal need to match your aggression. 
He finally grabs hold of one of your hands as well and manages to rip you off his back and in front of him, holding on tight to your upper arms to keep you in place. You’re snarling and twisting in his hold, but he doesn’t let up. 
“Enough,” he repeats, searching your wild eyes. Your movements slow down a fraction, giving him a moment of hope, before you surge forward and bury your teeth in his lower lip. It hurts like hell and he can taste blood on his tongue instantly. 
“Fight me,” you demand again, baring your teeth at him.
He pulls you back by your hair with a roar, gathers both your wrists in one large hand and holds you steady. You could still break free if you wanted to, he thinks. He might be stronger than you, but your movements turn almost liquid when you want to escape, he’s watched it more than once. 
The pain in his lip has already subsided, but his blood is still coating your mouth, a stark contrast against the white shimmer of your teeth. 
“Are you done?” His voice is harsh, his jaw clenched, carefully keeping the desire to strike back at bay. 
You deflate a little, some of the wildness draining from you before his eyes. 
“I just— I’m not fragile, I don’t want you to be scared of— of touching me.” Your voice grows small at the end and he’s horrified to see wetness glistening in your eyes. 
The fight mode leaves him as fast as it came, replaced with the overwhelming urge to care, to protect what’s his. His pack, in a way.  
He gathers you into his arms, curling himself around you. It feels good to hold you close again. Breathing you in deeply, he smells the adrenaline still oozing from you, hears the rapid beating of your heart. But mostly, it’s your unique scent, one that he thinks he could recognize anywhere. His tether to this world. 
“I’m sorry, kitten. I’m not scared of touching you,” he mumbles into your hair. 
You sniffle against his chest, but when you finally raise your head to look at him, new determination is glinting in your eyes. 
“Prove it,” you coo, tracing the shape of his lips with one fingertip. “Please.” 
That he can do. He nips at your finger playfully, your responding giggle the best sound he’s heard all day, before he shoves it out of the way to connect his lips with yours. It’s rough, a clashing of teeth and tongues, the tension that has been building and warping all day finally finding a release. 
You gasp into his mouth when his tongue moves against yours, your hands pulling at his hair, needing him closer and closer still, never close enough. His groan at the taste of you travels through you both as he’s grasping at your clothes. 
He longs for your warm skin under his palms, longs for how you lean into his touch so needy all the damn time. You pull away with a moan, helping him to pull your sweater over your head and stepping out of your jeans as he sheds his flannel. 
You bring both hands up to cup his face, to search his eyes. “Don’t be gentle,” you plead, “please, I need—” 
You don’t have to keep talking for him to understand what you need. I’m not scared of touching you. 
With a growl, his hands find your hips, holding you tight as he’s walking you backwards until your ass connects with the backside of the couch. He crowds you in, paws at every inch of bare skin he can reach, his cock already hard and aching at your soft warmth and the sweet mewls that tumble from your lips. 
Hitching one of your legs up to open you for him, he grinds himself against your barely covered center. A keening sound escapes you at the friction from his jeans against your sensitive flesh and he allows himself a grin. 
“Feels good, kitten?” 
You nod mindlessly, holding onto him and rocking your hips against his while you’re letting him move you however he sees fit. 
“Do you want more?”
“Please, Logan.”
You sound so sweet when you’re like this, when you put your body into his hands. I’m not scared of touching you.
Setting your leg back down, he watches with hunger as you hastily take off your underwear while he pulls the white tank top over his head and opens his belt buckle. He could swear that your pupils dilate a fraction at the sound of it, filling him with a possessive sense of pride. 
As soon as his jeans hit the floor, he’s all over you again, palming the weight of your breasts, tugging and pinching at your nipples as he swallows down your mewls. You’re soaking wet already, covering his cock in your slick as he nudges against your folds. He’s impatient to feel you all around him, to sink into you, to stake his claim again and again and again. 
He normally works you open longer, gives you more time to prepare, but your impatience is just as apparent as his own, with the way you whine and plead for him, your fingers digging into his flesh, trying to pull him nearer. 
He follows your pull, pressing your backside into the couch once more as he crowds your space. Leaning in, he kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth, one hand buried in your hair and holding you close. 
“I love you,” he breathes against your lips as he lets go of you. I’m not scared of touching you.
You smile softly, echoing the sentiment back at him. 
A surprised squeak escapes you when he turns you around suddenly, bending you over the back of the couch. He lines himself up at your dripping entrance, desperate to fill you up, to give you what you’re craving. 
“Not gentle?” he rasps once more, one hand curling around your neck from behind, both in reassurance and dominance. 
“Not gentle,” comes your breathy answer. It breaks off into a shriek of a moan when he slams into you with one long thrust, stretching your tight walls around his length. The sting of his sudden intrusion has to hurt at least a little, but you push back against him eagerly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 
Logan holds himself still for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of your squirming body and your needy little sounds, before he pulls out almost entirely, only to push back in forcefully. Your toes barely reach the floor with how far he’s bent you over, lifting you into the air with every harsh thrust, but he’s holding you steady with ease, both hands possessively spanning over your waist, positioning you exactly where he wants you. 
“Taking me so fucking well, like you were made for me,” he growls, gently scratching over your back with his nails. You arch up to chase his touch, tightening around him, almost purring with pleasure. Wetness pours out of you, coating his cock. I’m not scared of touching you. Not when it feels this good. 
“M–more, please,” you whine, blindly reaching backwards to him. 
He leans over you, cages you in, his arms on either side of you, his breath hot against your skin. His teeth sink into the back of your neck, not so deep as to draw blood, but enough that he knows the indents will stay there for quite some time. 
Your whole body goes limp at the sensation, a surprised mewl escaping you as you clench around him wildly. 
“Fuck,” he breathes, his own hips stuttering, “give it to me kitten, come on—” 
He reaches around your hip, fingers teasing through your slick folds and up to your clit, rubbing with slight pressure as he keeps pistoning into your heat. 
“Logan—” you gasp, getting almost impossibly tight, before you shatter around him. He keeps thrusting into you, keeps up his ministrations on your clit, until the pulsing of your cunt around him sends him over the edge as well. He spills his release deep inside of you, the thought of leaving a part of him with you always filling him with a primal satisfaction. 
Pulling you up instantly, he gathers you in his arms, your body soft and pliant against his chest. Walking around the couch and sinking into the cushions to lie down, he gently moves you until your weight is resting on top of him, his embrace wrapping around you.
You stir a little, needing a moment to take in your position. The look of uncertainty that you give him damn near breaks his heart. “Is this okay?” You sound uncertain, too.
God, he’s such an idiot. 
“Yeah, kitten. It’s— fuck, of course it’s okay.”
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thank you so so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed, and if you did, a comment or a reblog would absolutely make my day :)
-> part 2!
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lemonlover1110 · 26 days ago
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𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬
Satoru Gojo
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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader
Summary: Satoru makes the biggest mistake of his life. If he could go back in time, he would take it all back in a heartbeat.
Warnings: Heavy Angst, Cheating, Smut, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Some Biting, Vaginal Sex, Daddy Kink, Creampie
*This is a commission for the lovely @mew4-ever18. Thank you so much dear, this was so fun to work on❤️ also you can thank her since she wanted me to share with y'all!
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
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There’s something wrong with Satoru, and you can’t quite put your finger on it– Well, you have an idea of what it is but you don’t want to accuse your fiancé of such an outrageous act of betrayal. He’s coming home later than usual, bearing gifts and stinking of some cheap perfume. He claims he’s working late with his secretary, the company is going through a rough patch and he has to fix it all.
You noticed it from the beginning. One night Satoru came home later than usual and he wasn’t your usual Satoru. He was distant and refused to even make eye contact with you. He was hiding his phone, and was extra wary about where he put it for the night. It happened six months ago, and you were willing to look past it because you loved Satoru and it was surely a one time thing.
Until the next day where the same thing happened. And then a week later. Six months later you’re dealing with the same issue, trying to convince yourself that it isn’t happening. The signs are all there, but you don’t want to question your partner’s loyalty. Truly after making such accusations, everything will be over. So you bite your tongue even though Satoru clearly acts differently for a reason.
“How was work today?” You ask him, clearing the table from the dinner you just had. You surprised him tonight, preparing one of his favorite meals since you knew he’d be home early tonight. You hope that by surprising him with food, he’d come home early more often.
Unluckily for you, Satoru played with his food the entire duration of the meal. He was looking at his phone the entire meal, barely acknowledging your presence. But you’ll attribute it to him having a rough day at work. A rough week at this point… Nevertheless, you’ll find a way to excuse his behavior.
“Can you help me clean up?” You ask him after your question goes ignored, and Satoru barely acknowledges your existence. You’re getting tired of this, and you’re not sure for how much longer you can withstand it. You speak again, your voice much firmer this time, “Satoru, honey, can you help me?”
“Uh… Sure.” He replies, standing up from the table and doing just as you’ve asked. You make some conversation with him, knowing you hold his attention for a small fragment of time and you have to make it count. He gives you vague answers, but at least he gives you something. 
Midway through the conversation is like a flip switches in Satoru, and he begins to smile as he speaks to you. He cracks a couple of jokes, and you two begin to laugh like the sweet couple you are. You feel like you’re in the very beginning of your relationship once again. He’s making jokes just to hear your sweet laugh.
Before you know it, you’re cuddling up with him on the couch. You allow yourself to easily forget about his past behavior, simply because he’s acting like the man you love after all this time. 
“Was dinner not good? You barely touched your food.” You ask him, and he bites down his lip.
“It was good, I wasn’t too hungry though.” He answers, though he quickly changes the topic. You partially understand why he wants to talk about something else. You’re finally having a good time, he doesn’t want it to change. “When’s your next work trip? I don’t want to get accustomed to having you here.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow for three days.” You respond, and you see a small pout come to his face. You almost laugh at the response, chuckling before kissing his cheek. You don’t understand the response when most nights he isn’t by your side either way, but you still appreciate the reaction. “I’ll be back in no time, babe.”
“I’m going to miss you.” He says, a phrase that is odd to hear from him but it brings a smile to your face. Maybe whatever is going on is fixable. You peck his lips, getting even closer to him.
“You can appreciate me while I’m still here.” You tell him, and within a blink of an eye, you’re on top of him. He’s given you no sign, but you feel the need to try to initiate something with Satoru. You had a consistent sex life with him until recently. The last time you felt Satoru’s touch was three months ago, and it was unsatisfactory to say the least… You hope you can change his mind this way. It’s stupid. 
You’re getting frisky, your hands unbuttoning his shirt while you kiss him, full of desperation. You need him. You’re too caught up in your own sentiments, barely noticing that he’s not touching you. You’re doing everything.
He’s not even kissing you back. You’re grabbing his hands and putting them on your ass since you know it’s one of– If not his favorite part of your body. But his hands quickly fall, telling you he’s disinterested.
“Satoru–” You pull away, about to ask why he isn’t even moving. Before a business trip, he’d make sure to remind you how much he loves you– But right now he can’t even keep eye contact with you.
“I’m not in the mood.” He mutters, and you swear you hear your heart break. It feels like this confirms all of your fears and doubts. You just know you’re frustrated. You get off him, and without even thinking twice, you blurt out,
“Are you cheating on me?” Which makes his eyes go wide. He looks at you, offended that you’ve asked that question. As if he hasn’t given you reasonable doubt. But even though the question lingers in your mind, you regret the words that leave your lips.
“How dare you?” He immediately replies, and you feel the urgent need to apologize for what you asked. You still want an answer that’s not his offense. Even though his response should give you an answer, you’re still wanting to hear him deny it.
“You’ve been acting weird– I don’t know what to think.” You try to justify yourself, as Satoru stands up from the couch.
“What? I told you I’m busy with work! But your first thought is that I’m–” Satoru finds himself yelling, and he stops himself. He takes a deep breath to not be too rash. He’s upset, but he won’t yell at you. “I love you so much, why would you even say that? I’ve done nothing but be loyal and cherish you but you’re–”
“You’re acting weird, Satoru! I– I’m sorry that I even suggested that but you’re acting really weird.” You’re tripping over your words, getting nervous during your confrontation. This is something that can completely ruin a relationship, you should’ve bit your tongue and held back on asking the question. 
“I can’t even look at you.” He mutters, walking away from you. He’s heading toward the front door, and you can’t stop him. You want to tell him to stop, you can figure this out; however, your voice gives out. Maybe deep down you know that you don’t have to apologize for anything. 
The feeling lingers, deep down you know you’re right. 
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You allow yourself time to think. Time away from Satoru to decide what you want to do with your relationship. Work keeps you busy, but it reminds you of him. You met with him through your work, you were hired to accompany him on a trip and he kept flirting with you until he mustered up the courage to ask you out.
You’re wondering if maybe your work is the reason why he’s acting like this. Maybe you’re overthinking that he’s distant, and he’s actually just worried that someone else will woo you. You’ll think of anything to excuse his behavior, anything to stay on cloud nine when it comes to your fiancé. 
During your time away you reflect on your relationship. You need to have a serious chat with Satoru, something that you’ve been holding off on. You don’t want to have tough conversations in fear of hurting him, but it’s hurting your relationship.
You’re losing sleep over your issues, and you can’t stay away for another day. You’re going home early to try and fix your relationship problems, because you won’t be able to properly rest if you don’t fix it. 
Luckily, the lights are on when you come home. You’ll be able to speak with him immediately. You hope that by next week this will all be something that you laugh at. Alas, you know that you’ll need to put in a little more work. 
You walk into your place, leaving your luggage in your car. You want to talk to Satoru as fast as you can. 
You expect to find him in the kitchen, cooking something for himself since Satoru tends to try to make himself something when he’s free. But you guess you’re a little late. It’s past dinner time, he’s not in the kitchen… But he did leave a mess. You’re about to walk past it and check for him in the bedroom, but your eyes fixate on the sink.
Two glasses of wine. One has a red lipstick stain. The son of a bitch lied to you– No, maybe you’re overthinking. Perhaps he invited his mother over for dinner. He’s probably upstairs, too tired to clean up after himself so he left the mess for the morning.
You take a deep breath, using all your might to move your feet. You have to go upstairs to talk to him. You pray that you find him sleeping so you can avoid this whole situation right now– Or that the scene that plays in your mind isn’t happening.
Satoru is loyal to you. Satoru is loyal. You keep repeating the words to yourself as you walk upstairs. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest with every step. You’re getting sweaty, and thinking of the worst when you’re standing outside the closed bedroom door.
You hear it, and your heart breaks. You’re fidgeting with your fingers as you press your ear against the door to listen better. It’s his voice… It’s Satoru. Your Satoru. The same man that got defensive when you confronted him about his loyalty.
A man that you’ve loved so dearly for years, has betrayed you in the worst way possible.
But maybe, just maybe, you’re getting this whole situation wrong. You refuse to cry when you’re probably misreading this situation. Perhaps he’s just watching some explicit videos on his phone, something to kill his loneliness. You crack the door open, and you want to puke at the scene. 
A gasp leaves your lips, as if you’re surprised by it all. As if you didn’t already feel this was happening. Tears well your eyes, quickly spilling and falling down your face. He’s not only betraying you, but doing it on your own bed as if it were nothing. The bed that you’ve laid down beside him and shared so many intimate moments.
You make eye contact for a split second before you look at her. The woman that was always so sickly sweet with you is in bed with your fiancé. You always knew that there was something up with her, there was no plausible reason for her to be so nice. You brought up your concerns with Satoru, and he brushed them off.
“You two can go to hell.” You yell, remembering the words that Satoru always told you: She’s no one important, she won’t last long in the company or something along those lines. And yet here she is. You’re holding your breath, unable to exhale until you finally turn around. You hear Satoru call out your name as you begin to walk away.
You try to hold back on crying now, you don’t want to look pathetic in front of them. You’ll simply leave, even though he calls out your name to talk to you. The man that you swore you’d love for the rest of your life has made a fool out of you. With his secretary of all people… How cliché. 
“It isn’t what it seems!” Satoru is yelling, trying to catch up to you. You take a swift look at him, rolling your eyes. At least he has clothes on now, that’s an improvement. 
You don’t want to entertain him, you just head to the front door as Satoru mutters out baseless apologies. You don’t want to hear it, he’s just spewing whatever to get you to stay. Your hand lands on the cold doorknob, and before you get to turn it, his hand lands on your wrist.
“Please let me explain.” There’s desperation in his eyes, something that would’ve made you drop everything and tend to him ten minutes ago. Right now your blood is boiling, and the only sight that you want to see is a bloody Satoru lying down on the floor– It’s extremely unlike you, but you guess your thoughts won’t be too normal after finding out your fiancé balls deep into his secretary.
“Fuck you, Satoru. Fuck you and your secretary–” You begin before a loud laugh leaves your lips. It’s rare that you curse, but you can’t hold back now. You truly mean it, never in your life do you want to see the man that stands before you. You were ready to devote your entire life to him; yet, this is how he repays you. “I guess you already did, didn’t you?”
“Please, it was nothing.” He tries to explain which makes you scoff. You pry his hand off your wrist and open the door.
“I’m coming to get my stuff tomorrow while you work. I’ll leave the engagement ring on your nightstand.” You tell him before walking away, leaving him behind to yell your name. He mindlessly calls out to you, hoping that you come back to talk to him, but you don’t dare to look back at him. 
That concludes your relationship of years with Satoru. A few minutes of pleasure were worth ruining your four year long relationship, and an eternity together. You wipe away the tears that leave your eyes, trying to not feel bad about it. After all, Satoru made his bed, and you can’t change anything about it.
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Satoru tries to contact you more times than you can count, which results in him being blocked everywhere. You don’t want to speak to him ever again. You spoke to his parents one last time, and explained everything to them before closing that chapter of your life. You want to completely forget that Satoru Gojo ever existed in your life. In your mind, you want it to be as if you never crossed paths.
You had two weeks of dwelling in sorrow, pitying yourself for your ex-fiancé’s actions before school started. Going back to teach English was actually going to be more helpful to you than you thought. The students keep you busy, managing to push away any dark thoughts from your mind.
You find the school to be a safe space from all the drama that surrounds your life. You don’t have to worry about Satoru trying to get you to communicate with him, and you know that he won’t dare to show up at your work. The idiot somehow found out where you live, and he’s been attempting to send you flowers or other romantic deliveries that quickly get turned down or end up in the trash. 
You hate the turn of events. You were practically begging for a more eventful life since everything had suddenly become so dull– How you regret wanting that change. Yet you guess it’s better like this. You should be grateful that you found Satoru’s true colors before it was too late. 
“There’s someone that wants to talk to you… He’s at your desk.” Your coworker warns you as you walk to the office. You furrow your brows, picking up the unsureness in her voice.
It’s been nearly two months since everything happened, so Satoru is the last thing on your mind. So you don’t have a problem walking to the office, assuming that it’s a student that is seeking help. Though you’re not too sure about it since most of them are supposed to be in class.
A scoff leaves your mouth when you enter the office and you see the man that you’ve been avoiding for the past two months. As you watch him lean over your desk and inspect every little gadget that’s on it, you realize it’s a miracle that he hasn’t shown up at your door to beg for forgiveness.
He hasn’t realized that you’re in the same room, so you have two options: turn around and pretend like you were never here, or confront him. You want to turn around and avoid him. And you will. But just as you turn on your heel to leave, he calls out your name. 
“Can we talk?” Satoru asks, clearly desperate to explain everything to you… But what is there to explain? No matter the reason, what he did is unforgivable.
You want to yell at him, and tell him to get out of your life forever. But your coworkers are standing around and you don’t want to cause a scene. You have to swallow the sharp words that rest at the tip of your tongue. You choose a more professional way to deliver your message,
“Mr. Gojo, please stop contacting me. Next time I receive some sort of message from you, I’ll be forced to file a restraining order.”
He calls out to you again, but you don’t acknowledge him in any way. Your coworkers stare at him, wondering what happened between the two of you, but no one is bold enough to actually ask. For your ex-fiancé to show up at your work to talk, and refusing to speak to him is no small feat. Regardless, no one will ask you and no one is going to dare to speak to the man.
They don’t get a chance either way, Satoru quickly walks out of the office after checking his phone, leaving the place behind. Leaving too many questions unanswered.
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“What do you need?” Satoru answers the phone with attitude when he gets into his car. He’s too annoyed to deal with anything else, especially with her. The woman that he broke things off with immediately, yet she won’t leave him alone for some reason. 
For some reason, as if he hadn’t started an emotional affair with her– Sure, for him it was purely physical but for her it seems like feelings developed. Even though he tried to fire her (which didn’t work out since she threatened to sue due to an inappropriate workplace relationship with a very clear power imbalance), she keeps trying to call him and act as if their relationship hasn’t ended. 
“When are we meeting again?” She acts as if nothing happened. Her voice is so irritating to him, it’s become one of his most hated sounds. He rolls his eyes when he hears her speak, and he has to sigh. He can’t get rid of her completely, as much as he wants to. 
“Please refrain from calling me unless there’s a work emergency.” Satoru tries to remain calm. He’s not going to waste his energy by losing his cool on her. By keeping things professional, he hopes that she’ll take a hint and leave him alone. But he’s not so lucky, he’s getting extremely bad karma for his actions. “Is there anything else? I’m busy.”
“We– We have to talk.” She sounds hesitant, though Satoru doesn’t really care. If she wants to never speak again, he’d be overjoyed. 
“What is it?” He asks, hoping that it’s something she can say over the phone. He wants to meet as little as possible with her. The line is quiet for a minute before she says,
“Can we please meet in person?” She questions, making Satoru scoff. No way in hell will he willingly meet up with her. His response gives her the answer she needs. She knows he’ll hang up soon so she blurts out, “I’m pregnant.”
“Huh?” His eyes go wide as he processes the words that he just heard. Pregnant? No, that can’t be, he’s always been so careful with her. He ensured she was on birth control and he always made sure to wear a condom. A pregnancy shouldn’t even be possible. “What– You’re not lying to me, are you?”
“I– I’m not. I wish I was.” He can almost hear the smirk that’s on her lips. She tries to act like this is something bad, but he can hear that this is ideal for her. “I swear I’m not lying.”
“What the fuck?” Satoru is pinching the bridge of his nose as he wonders how the hell this happened. He still can’t believe her, and he won’t until he sees a test result right in his face. One that he sees her take.
He absolutely can’t trust her with anything.
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Satoru finally decides to leave you alone for the first time in months. You’re still on his mind, but he has bigger issues to deal with right at this moment. Somehow, someway, he’s becoming a father. This wasn’t in the cards for him, especially with someone that isn’t you. 
“What do you think about going shopping for baby clothes tomorrow?” She’s resting her head on his lap, talking like she usually does when she’s with him. He’s engrossed with his phone, creating a new account to check up on your social media. Satoru’s given you space since he has a girlfriend now. 
He’s not sure if he’s a coward or what, but he can’t do much. He got someone pregnant, so he’s forced to step up. He’s fucked up in a lot of ways, but he isn’t the type of man that’s going to leave his child behind. But he’s for sure the man that secretly looks at his ex’s social media. 
“Satoru, are you listening?” He hears, and he hums in response. Though he’s not too enthusiastic, which makes her sigh. She raises her head from his lap and squints her eyes as she looks at him. She doesn’t have to look at his phone to know.
She snatches the phone out of his head and tosses it to the side, making a frown appear on his face. He’s about to protest but she gets on top of him, cupping his face. “You know… I miss you.”
“I’m right here.” Satoru can’t make eye contact with her. He feels guilty by just looking at her. Not because he feels like he owes her anything, but because by looking at her he’s reminded of you. You two would’ve been married now. 
“Baby, stop thinking of her.” She says, going down to peck his lips. The sentence would’ve driven any other woman mad, but that’s her reality. It’s been her reality since the beginning, ever since she decided to sleep with a man that was in a relationship. “I saw her last night.”
“Where?” A sudden spark appears in his eyes which ticks her off. She has to pretend like she doesn’t see it.
“She was out with some man.” She’s fighting off a smirk, she can’t seem wicked in front of Satoru. Though watching his expression darken satisfies her. “She’s moved on, you can move on as well.”
“I guess.” Satoru is vulnerable, weak enough to believe anything that goes past him. As long as he gets to hear about you, he doesn’t care if a statement is true or false. Though he doesn’t like the news he’s receiving. “Are you sure it was her though?”
“Yeah. I know so. She’s hard to confuse with someone else.” She answers, and Satoru clenches his jaw. Perhaps it was just a male friend, no one that you’re interested in romantically… Though he did the same thing, and this is where it landed him. “I’m here for you, baby. Me and our baby.”
She grabs his hand and places it on her small bump, reminding him that they’re bound together for life. Satoru is biting down his lip, jealousy consuming him at the mere thought of you with someone else. He almost wants to get back at you. As if you’d get hurt by what he does or doesn’t do. You’ve moved on from him, you clearly don’t care about what he does. 
Satoru knows that he’s lost you, he doesn’t win anything by not giving in. He is touch deprived, desperate to feel something more. He’s already sacrificed so much for the few moments of pleasure that the woman in front of him gave him, what’s one more time?
Her lips land on his again, and he doesn’t fight it. But he also doesn’t kiss her back. The situation reminds him of the last time that you made a move on him and he rejected you. He’s so close to shutting his eyes and listening to his dick, but he almost pukes when an image of you pops up into his head.
He can’t do it, not even when he’s trying to get back at you. It’s his bad karma. He ends up pushing her away, telling her, “It’s best if we don’t.”
“What’s the harm in it?” She’s annoyed that he pushes her away. He’s not wrapped around her finger like she thought.
“I’m not in the mood.” He takes a firm stance, and she tries to remain calm. She opens her mouth to speak but Satoru clears his throat, “I think it’s best if we stop whatever we’re doing here. It’s not healthy.”
“What do you mean?” She furrows her brows. Satoru takes a deep breath, thinking of how to land the blow. He knows that she won’t be too delighted, but does he really care about her feelings?
“If we’re going to have some sort of relationship, it’s only a co-parenting one. I’m not interested in anything else.” He says, and she begins to laugh as if it’s some kind of joke. Though it fades when she realizes that Satoru has a stoic expression on his face. He couldn’t be more serious.
“Satoru, I am carrying your baby. You can’t be serious.” She makes a big show of it, putting her hand on her bump. She wants to make it as clear as she can that she’s expecting his child. 
“Which is why we’ll co-parent. Other than that, I’m not interested.” He responds, and her hands ball up into fists. She doesn’t understand. He’s already lost everything, what’s the harm of being with her now? He should move on since you clearly don’t care about him.
“What is wrong with you?” She asks, completely offended. How could he not want her? He’s risked everything to be with her, but when he actually can be, he refuses. “We’re having a baby, you’re not with her anymore– We can finally be together.”
“I don’t want to be with you. It’s simple.” Satoru answers, and before a major argument ensues, he stands up. He begins to walk to the door, leaving her behind to yell at the wall. He knows arguing is senseless.
If she wants to escalate the situation, he’s more than willing to settle everything in court.
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Satoru is trying to come to terms with the fact that he’s becoming a father, and you aren’t the mother. His secretary is six months along, and time is flying by. The day that his baby is born is getting closer, and he has to come to terms with it soon.
His parents aren’t thrilled by this. They love his son, but they hate that this is the result of an act of betrayal. They dreamed of becoming grandparents but the situation was much different than this. They’ve made their feelings clear to Satoru, but Satoru couldn’t care less. He has his own feelings to account for. 
Satoru has his own weird feelings and behaviors to deal with. Like camping in his car, and waiting outside your apartment. He wants to see if you’re actually seeing someone else. With all his other issues, he’s been limited in time. He’s only been able to check up on you through social media, and you haven’t been posting which means he has no way of checking on you. He can’t contact your friends without getting cursed out, and he can’t just reach out to you to ask. Therefore he only has one way to check up on you; even if it’s creepy.
You leave the house at around 8:00 PM, and he’s on the move. You take a cab, and he follows you to a nice restaurant. Outside of it you meet a man. Satoru squints, trying to see every detail of this man. Perhaps it’s some relative that you’ve decided to meet outside a very expensive restaurant. Who is he fooling? You’re clearly on a date.
He still exits the car and enters the restaurant. It’s unlikely for him to get in without a reservation, but luckily Satoru is influential– Even when he isn’t well known, he has money to spare. 
He convinces the hostess to give him a table near your own, but your back is turned to him so you don’t see him at any time. He’s listening in, and he feels like a psycho for even being here but he has no other option. It’s a one off situation, a confirmation that you’ve actually moved on before he finally lets you go for good.
He doesn’t know why his heart hurts so much as he hears you laugh with someone else. He fuels with jealousy as he hears the dumb conversation that you two have. You don’t even sound entertained, but Satoru feels his eye twitch. He can’t just pop up at your table and ask you to speak, you’ll for sure ask him for a restraining order.
It’s best if he just leaves, it’s clear that you’re going out with someone else. He can’t do anything else. But just as he’s about to rise from his seat, someone catches his eye. He frowns, seeing the woman that carries his child, arms intertwined with someone else’s.
He watches attentively, trying to figure out if it’s a relative that he’s yet to hear about. He doesn’t really remember anything about his secretary… It was all sexual, and he didn’t care enough to listen to what she had to say about her life. Perhaps it’s a brother– The same stupid way that he thought you were here meeting a relative.
Satoru stands up and approaches their table, genuinely smiling as he sees them, “Good evening.”
“Satoru–” She looks astounded when she sees the man. She looks back and forth between the man that sits across from her, and Satoru. Her face grows red, knowing she’s been caught red handed. But she can play it off, she just has to control the situation before either speaks. “This is Satoru, my boss.”
“Nice to meet you, and who are you?” Satoru extends his hand for the man to take, and the man suddenly straightens his posture. She tries to speak, but Satoru directs his attention elsewhere. He doesn’t care what she has to say, he’s not going to believe her. Satoru doesn’t hear a name from the man, he blocks out everything except the vital word: fiancé.
“Well we– We… We were taking a break for some months and we’re back together now.” She attempts to play it off, and Satoru smirks. Right. As if he was dumb enough to buy it.
“We have a lot to talk about on Monday. Dinner’s on me tonight, enjoy it.” Satoru is sickly sweet with them, overjoyed by what he found out. He walks from the table and breathes a sigh of relief. It feels like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He just has to take one DNA test to prove that he isn’t the father, and he’s free of her. 
He’s upset to find that you’re not alone romantically, but he’s overjoyed by the news he’s just found out. He might not be becoming a father like he thought.
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After finding out about Satoru’s betrayal, you thought you’d never move on. A man that you were ready to devote your life to, threw everything away for no apparent reason– You never asked why, but you don’t care either way. A year later you’re thriving without him, and with a man that makes you happy.
The perfect man that sends you flowers to work weekly even though you’ve been dating for almost a year. A man that’s open to communication, handsome, hilarious and to top it off you have great sex with. You’re still not sure if Akito is the man that you want to spend the rest of your life with, but you’re pretty comfortable by his side. After all, he fills in all the checkmarks.
You’re preparing dinner with him tonight, singing along to one of your favorite songs as you chop some vegetables and he pours you something to drink. As the song and your voice drowns out, you bite down your lip and you prepare yourself to speak. You've had something in your mind for a while, but you’ve been too nervous to say it.
“I think I’m going to leave the agency.” You tell him, as he slides you a glass of your beverage. He continues his task without saying anything, and you feel the need to explain yourself. “I hate leaving on business trips every now and then. I just want to focus on teaching.”
“I get it.” Akito sounds unphased, and it bothers you. You feel his arms as he hugs you from behind before kissing your cheek. You bite down your tongue, unsure as to why you’re annoyed by this. He should be thrilled since it means that you’ll be around more often. 
“Is that all?” You ask, and he hums in response. He lets go of you and grabs a pan to begin his part of the dinner.
“Won’t you miss traveling? You’re going to lose touch with some of your languages.” He finally says, and you purse your lips together. You’re not satisfied by the response. Satoru would’ve reacted differently– No, you can’t compare him to Satoru. Akito would never betray you like Satoru did.
“I can always travel in my free time. Plus, it’d be more enjoyable since I don’t have to worry about work.” You respond, and he hums again. You compare him to Satoru once more in your head, before changing the topic. You can’t compare him to Satoru; after all, they’re on very different levels.
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“Hey!” An all too familiar voice calls out your name when you walk into the school. You begin to walk faster to the building, not wanting to speak to a ghost from your past. It’s been well over a year since the last time you saw him, and you intend to keep it that way. 
You know he’s following after you, and he’s quickly catching up because of his damn long legs. Just as you’re about to enter the building, he grabs your arm, stopping you from going inside and avoiding him. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you look back at him and look into his regretful blue eyes– And your heart skips a beat like the first time.
“May I help you?” You ask, averting your gaze as guilt quickly consumes you. It immediately feels as if you’re cheating on your boyfriend.
“I heard that you’re not working with us anymore and–” Satoru is stumbling over his words, getting nervous. He should probably ask how you are first, or any other small talk but he knows it won’t help in this situation. He can’t waste a single second. “Did I do something wrong? I mean, I know I did with our relationship… But you’re leaving your job as a translator for–”
“Mr. Gojo, my decision is frankly none of your business. The last time we talked was over a year ago, you have little to no influence in my decisions.” You answer, and he gives you a weak nod. “Did you come all the way here just to ask me that?”
“I would feel like shit if I knew I did something else to make you quit… But I guess you wouldn’t leave the agency just because of me.” He runs a hand through his hair, giving it away that he’s nervous. You feel your face get warm, feeling giddy knowing that you make him feel nervous. But you quickly try to shake away those thoughts. 
“I just want to focus on teaching. That chapter of my life is over…” You explain, although you don’t have the need to. “How did you even find out?”
“Heard from a friend of a friend.” He responds before an awkward silence ensues. He should probably speak, but what would he even say? Hey so you remember my secretary, right? The one I cheated on you with? Well she got pregnant and made me believe that it was my baby but it totally wasn’t. That won’t make for great conversation, and frankly it would earn him a punch in the face.
“Will you let go of my arm?” You ask him, and he looks down to see his hand holding your wrist. He nods and lets go of you, muttering an apology for it. You take a good look at his face before turning around to go inside.
“Can we go grab a coffee soon? I’ve been getting counseling and I want to have at least one last conversation with you before moving on.” He says which makes you stop in your tracks. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you think about it… 
Maybe it’s what you need. One last conversation with Satoru will confirm your feelings for Akito. It’ll help you move on to the next chapter of your life with your amazing boyfriend. Not getting closure from Satoru is what’s holding you back .
“Are you free after four?” You ask him, and his eyes widen before quickly nodding.
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Satoru frantically looks around the café, trying to find a sign of you anywhere. It’s five after four, and he’s sure that you’ve stood him up. He’s a nervous wreck as he waits for you. This is what he considers his last conversation with you, and he knows that once you get to the café, his time with you is limited.
He shouldn’t be too upset about it since you haven’t spoken in a while, but knowing that it’s the last time you’ll talk still stings. He dwells on his decisions, regretting everything he’s done that’s led to this. If only he could go back in time, he’d beat himself up for making such a stupid decision. He let go the love of his life, all for nothing.
He zones out, thinking about you. A warm smile comes to his face as he remembers every tiny detail of you and of your relationship. His times with you were some of the happiest of his life, and his stupid self just had to screw that up. 
A snap of a finger brings him back to reality, and he’s overjoyed when he finds you standing in front of him. You bite down your lip as you see your order resting on the table. At least he remembered that.
“What did you want to talk about?” You ask as you sit across from him. You try to act indifferent. As if this doesn’t matter to you at all. You’re here to do him a favor, at least that’s what you’ll make it seem.
“How are you?” He won’t get to the point as easily as he did earlier. He slides your drink, hoping that you’ll take it without a second thought.  You glance at it, but you don’t take it into your hands immediately. 
“I’m great.” You respond, not asking anything back because you don’t want to seem like you care about him even though you do. You’ve been wondering for days on end how Satoru is holding up. Wondering if he’s moved on, if he’s with his secretary or whatnot. “So you’ve been getting counseling.”
“It’s been a rough year.” He chuckles, and you give him a subtle nod. You can relate, but your year has gotten progressively better. You’re happy with where you are. “You’re always on my mind but now more than ever.”
“I would say I’m flattered but… I’m not sure.” You confess with an awkward laugh. He agrees. 
“I haven’t gotten to properly apologize, and I need to do it to move on.” Satoru begins, and he takes a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. I threw away our relationship for nothing. You were the best thing to happen to me, and I messed that up.”
“Yeah…” You feel yourself get emotional, tears welling up in your eyes as you hear the apology. You had no idea how much you wanted to hear it. You thought that never talking to Satoru again would fix your issues, but you feel so much weight lifted from you as you hear his apology. 
You take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You won’t begin to cry in front of him. 
“Why did you do it?” You blurt out, wanting an answer for the reason why he betrayed you. You’ve come to terms that it isn’t for your fault, but you still want to know what prompted him to make that decision.
He stays quiet, which makes you ask, “Did I do something?... Was I not enough in that sense?”
“No! No, you’ve always…” Satoru begins, biting down his lip as his cheeks turn pink. It’s almost embarrassing to say out loud. “The best that I’ve ever had.”
“So, what was it?” You ask, and Satoru sighs. He doesn't really know himself. It was just something that happened and he couldn’t stop once it began.
“I’m an idiot, that’s all.” He admits, and it’s not the satisfying answer that’ll ease all of your worries. But it’s enough. “If I could go back in time, I would beat myself up for even thinking about it.”
“I would too.” You joke, and he chuckles in response. He’d deserve it. “But I guess I’m happy you did it. I’m happy with where I’m at now.”
“Really?” He raises a brow, and you nod, further confirming your words. He looks into your eyes, knowing that you don’t mean it. It’s so easy for him to read you. Maybe it’s because you’re with him, and there’s no way that you’d feel happy sitting across your ex-fiancé who betrayed you, but you don’t look happy. That spark that appears in your eyes when you’re overjoyed with your life isn’t there. “I heard you’ve moved on.”
“Yeah. I’m with this guy named Akito. I met him through work.” You share, and Satoru can’t help but furrow his brows. 
“Did you meet through the agency or–”
“The school. His nephew is in my class and we met through a parent teacher conference, since the parents couldn’t show up.” You explain. You finally grab the beverage that Satoru gave you and you begin to drink it. Conversation begins to flow smoothly, and you change to a more lighthearted topic.
You laugh nonstop for almost an hour. Satoru has a lot of flaws, but he knows damn well how to make you laugh. You completely forget that you’ve had a tumultuous past with him. The man in front of you isn’t the man that betrayed you, but simply an old friend that knows you better than anyone.
Though your loving conversation comes to an abrupt stop when you check the time and you realize that you have to go back home soon. You cut him off as he speaks, telling him, “I should get going.”
“Huh? Oh yeah.” He responds as he checks his watch. He got a little carried away, but you didn’t seem to mind. You’re about to stand up, but you take a moment to stare at him.
You bite your tongue, wondering if you should tell him what’s on your mind. Satoru is fun to have around, even if he isn’t your boyfriend or anything like that.
“We should do this again sometime. You might not be the best partner but you make a great friend.” You comment as you stand up. You’re about to walk away, but his voice stops you.
“I can’t.” He says, which takes you back. You’re a bit confused by his response– Is he dating someone? Is that why he can’t become friends with you? No, he wouldn’t have insisted on apologizing if he was seeing someone else. Sure, it gives him ease of mind but Satoru wouldn’t.
Before you can question it, he confesses, “I’m in love with you. I can’t be friends with you while you’re with someone else.” 
“Oh–” Your stomach drops at the confession and your breath hitches. Out of all things he could’ve said, he said that. You open your mouth but quickly close it because you can’t say anything. You’re speechless. You point to the door and say, “I have to go.”
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All the weight that was lifted off your shoulders after your conversation with Satoru, quickly comes back. You’re laying down next to your boyfriend who sleeps so peacefully beside you. He asked to spend the night and you couldn’t refuse. Yet tonight you keep glancing over, and wondering if you’re happy next to him.
You’re comfortable. Akito is a great man and you can see him being with you for the rest of your life. But do you love him? You knew you loved Satoru within a month of dating him, but you’ve been with Akito for a year, and you’re not sure about your feelings
You just want to curse Satoru out for putting you in this situation. You shouldn’t be questioning your feelings for your boyfriend. You’re happy, that’s enough.
You shut your eyes and lay on your side, trying to fall asleep. You aren’t going to question your feelings for your boyfriend because of Satoru. It’s all some dumb tactic to question your feelings. Satoru knew damn well that showing up at your work, and asking you to coffee will make your feelings come back–
Your eyes snap open as you realize that you’re still in love with Satoru.
“What’s wrong? You can’t sleep?” Akito speaks up, and from the sound of his voice you know that he’s been awake this whole time. You’ve been squirming, trying to find the right position that will get the unwelcome thoughts out of your head. You sit up on your bed, reaching over to turn on the light.
“I think we have to talk…” 
“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting up as well. You told him that you met up with Satoru, something that he had no issue with until now. Now, he’s absolutely worried. With one swift look at him, he knows. He’s gotten to know you better than you know him.
“I should’ve known.” He chuckles, getting out of bed.
“I’m sorry.” You mutter, and he shakes his head.
“No need to apologize for it. You can’t control it.” He says as he begins to get changed in front of you. “It hurts like a bitch but at least we only wasted a year.”
“I’m sorry.” You repeat, burying your face into your hands. “I didn’t think this would happen. He’s hurt me so much and I–”
“It’s not something you can control, so I’m not mad.” He reassures you, but no amount of reassuring is going to make you feel better for what you’re doing to him. 
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After breaking up with Akito, you take a week to decide on what you actually want to do. You love Satoru, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you should be together. You come to the conclusion that you want to try one last time; you’ve already wasted four years on him, would it hurt to waste some more time?
You contact him first, and you agree to take things slow. So painfully slow for Satoru, but he’ll take all that you’ll give him. He understands why you don’t want to rush things, so he isn’t annoyed by the fact that your relationship progresses slowly– But he’ll admit he’s tired of using his hand all the time.
A year after reconciling, you leave Satoru high and dry. The most you do is make out, and just when you’re moving to the next base, things come to a stop. You go back home, not even accepting the offer to cuddle. 
But tonight is the night, Satoru feels it in the air.
He’s cleaning up after cooking you a decent meal while you do something. He’s not sure what you’re doing, but he’s happy as long as you’re near. He couldn’t care less if you’re snooping around or stuffing something into your pockets to take back to your own place. 
“Satoru!” You yell, making the man nearly drop a plate. He bites down his lip, knowing that you’re in the bedroom. This is it, he’s sure. But he still has to clean up… Screw it. He can clean up in the morning.
“I’m coming!” He yells, putting the plate down in the sink and nearly running to the bedroom to go after you.
He finds you sitting on the bed, a smile on your face. This is it. 
You stand up, taking a couple of steps toward him before your hands meet behind his neck. You kiss his lips as Satoru’s hands go straight to your ass– That’s the most you’ve let him do. Poor guy has suffered enough, at the very least he can squeeze your butt to deal with this torment.
“What do you think if we–” You begin, and he frantically nods which makes you giggle.
You pull away from him, not allowing him to help as you take off your clothes. His hands go to your hips, but they’re quickly slapped away. You don’t need any help, but he doesn’t mind. Even when you take things so slow tonight. He’s not mad that you’re doing things slow tonight, he’s been waiting for so long to feel you, so he’ll appreciate every second of it. 
Satoru knows that he loves you, but staring at your beauty like this just confirms it more than ever. What a fool he was to even reject you once. And he almost hits himself as you get naked in front of him. How dare he?
Satoru helps you onto the bed before pecking your lips. Satoru begins to hungrily kiss down your neck, going down to your breasts. His tongue rolls around your nipple sucking. His soft hand caresses your thigh, the mere act making you squeeze your legs together. He hums against your nipple, something that earns a moan from you. A simple moan that nearly makes the man come in his pants… He’s needed you for so long.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He says when he unlatches from your nipple. He kisses your breasts before going down and kissing your stomach, praising just how beautiful and perfect you are. He’s never been as lucky as tonight– Or well, the night that you decided to give him another chance.
He kisses down until he reaches your cunt, a smirk on his lips but he won’t spread your legs apart just yet. He begins to kiss your thick thighs, the sudden urge to bite down consuming him. It’s just a tiny bite that makes a small cry come from your lips. But you don’t stop him because it feels so good. He licks his lips, looking at his late night meal. 
His head goes down, tongue licks up your folds, almost going insane at the taste of you on his tongue. Satoru spits on your cunt before his lips go to your clit, a moan leaving your lips as you feel his warm mouth on you. 
“Oh, daddy. It’s so good.” Your moans sound like music to his ears. He’s sure he’s enjoying this more than you, even when you begin to moan daddy in total pleasure, he’s sure that he’s missed this more.
Satoru’s mouth kisses your clit before detaching, his tongue going down from your clit to the entrance of your pussy. He teases it, while his thumb plays with your clit. He’s already driving you insane, doing everything that he knows drives you insane. He wants your body to feel like it’s on ecstasy. He needs you to think of him and only him when you need some relief.
His tongue goes back up to your clit, circling around it while his fingers gather your slick.  He pushes two fingers in, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. They’re just so thick and long, it’s hard for you to contain yourself. You can’t help but moan, “It’s so good, daddy!”
It encourages him even more. He curves his fingers so they brush against your sweet spot, making you get even louder than before. Your voice is like music to his ears, and he wants to keep hearing it so he’ll do anything and everything to get a reaction from you. He remembers your body better than he expected, though he doubts that it’s something that he’ll ever forget.
He makes it clear how much he loves eating your pussy, moaning against your cunt with every lap of his tongue. Your thighs squeeze around him as you get lost in your own feelings of satisfaction. He’s going crazy. He can die happily right here.
You’re getting louder as pressure builds up on your lower abdomen, your climax approaching. Satoru feels you squeeze around him, fulfilling him. He’s completing his duty. A duty he should’ve been doing over the years.
He’s glad he’s back in between your legs, tasting you on his tongue. There’s no sweeter melody than you moaning in complete pleasure because of him. Your back arches, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you reach your peak, but that doesn’t stop Satoru. He takes his fingers out but his tongue keeps lapping at your cunt, running through your folds but mainly focusing on your clit. 
Satoru isn’t stopping until he’s satisfied, which makes you grab a fistful of his hair and pull him away. He whines but it doesn’t take him too long to kiss up your body until he reaches your lips. He pecks your lips over and over again until you put your hand over his mouth to stop him. 
“I need you so bad, Satoru.” You tell him, and Satoru doesn’t waste a second. He gets undressed in less than thirty seconds, grabbing your legs and putting them over his shoulders. He spits on your cunt before running the tip of his cock through your folds before teasing your entrance. You’re not one for begging, but you’re nearly begging the man to put it in. You’re desperate. “I need to feel you, daddy. Please, please, please! I need it.”
Satoru is dying inside because he doesn’t feel you around him. He needs you more than you need him. Right now. Always. Satoru pushes himself in, a breathy moan escaping his lips as he feels you around him. 
“You feel so good, baby.” He moans as he gives you a moment to adjust to his size. He begins with slow thrusts, one hand on your plush thigh while the other is on your hip. “I missed you so much.”
His eyes are glued to your face of pleasure, and the look on your face drives him weak. You’re so fucking beautiful, it’s crazy for him that you’re actually with him. Satoru moans your name before biting down his lip. He doesn’t want to be too loud, he’ll just look pathetic.
“Right there–” You moan as he begins to pick up speed. His cock hits every right spot, and it won’t take too long for you to reach your peak again after your first orgasm. It feels like he’s doing everything to drive you over the edge, and you can’t complain.
You’re squeezing around his cock, and he feels like this is an out of body experience with how good he feels. His nails are digging into your soft skin as he tries to contain himself. The hand that’s on your hip goes to your clit, he wants to ensure you orgasm again before he finishes.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He says. You hate the fact that no one will ever please you the way Satoru does. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why you’re getting back together. He goes just at the right speed, filling you with so much pleasure. Satoru does everything in his power to fulfill you.
You’re coating his cock with your juices, moaning loudly as your second orgasm of the night slowly gets the best of you. Perhaps it’s your high talking, but you’re so glad you took him back, and that you’re having sex with him tonight. You have no idea for how much longer you could’ve gone without him. 
“Oh daddy– I’m gonna–” You begin to announce but before you can finish your sentence, your orgasm washes over you. You drive him absolutely insane, how could he have ever screwed things up so badly?
“Can I–” He begins as his thrusts get sloppy, surprised that he’s lasted this long. You couldn’t give him a more resounding yes.
He swore he was done for when you got naked in front of him. He’s moaning, feeling too good as you’re wrapped around him. He can never go so long without you again– In every manner, truly.
Satoru comes to a stop deep inside of you, grunting before filling you up with his cum. He remains buried deep inside of you until he makes sure every drop of his cum is inside of you. When he pulls out, he lays down beside you.
He brings you into his warmth as he kisses your forehead over and over again. Words can’t even describe how he feels as he lays down beside you. He’s needed this for longer than he thought.
He kisses the tip of your nose before saying, “I’ve missed this so much. You’re so perfect.”
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Giving Satoru another chance was one of the best decisions that you could’ve made. Though things took a while to come together, and you don’t blindly trust him like you once did, your relationship is nearly perfect. Sure, Satoru has his flaws but you’re over the moon while you’re at his side.
Things took a while to start up, but then things escalated fast. By a year and five months you were engaged. By two years you were married, which made everyone happy; especially his parents who have always seen you as a daughter. And now after three years, you’re pregnant with your first child.
You’re six months along, expecting a healthy baby. You and Satoru came to an agreement to keep the sex of the baby a surprise, which does cause you to bicker since you think you’re expecting a boy and he badly wants a baby girl. He swears he’s happy regardless.
You’re happy your relationship isn’t stale, like it once was. Truly, every day by Satoru’s side is magical. Though right now…
“Are you almost ready? The venue is an hour away.” You remind Satoru as he decides which tie he wants to wear. Akito’s getting married, and although you don’t have much contact with the man, he’s invited you and Satoru to come; of course, you couldn’t pass up on the opportunity.
“You can’t rush beauty, my love.” Satoru jokes, making you roll your eyes. He decides to go with a navy blue tie, and he rushes to your side for you to tie it.
“If we’re late, I’m going to be so mad.” You remind him, as you tie his tie for him. You feel his hands resting on your bump, caressing the soft fabric of your dress as a subtle smile comes to his lips.
“It sounds like a dream. You’re so hot when you’re mad.” Satoru says before kissing your forehead. You roll your eyes, knowing that you can’t be too mad at him when he’s just trying to lighten the situation.
“Can you stop moving?” You ask him, and he hums in response. You kiss his cheek when you’re finished, turning around to walk away before being promptly stopped by Satoru. He wraps his arms around your bump, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Can’t we just stay? Watch a movie or–” He begins, and you glare back at him. “Got it, we have to go.”
“That man helped me through some of my toughest times, the least we can do is go to his wedding and give him a very expensive gift.” You lecture him, and Satoru pouts like a child that’s getting scolded. “Now hurry up.”
“See, you’re hot when you’re mad.” Satoru responds, and you glare at him as if you could kill him. He won’t lie and say it’s not a bit scary, but he’s feeling an emotion that perhaps he shouldn’t be feeling.
You begin to walk away, leaving him to finish getting ready. Even though you’re a pregnant woman, Satoru somehow manages to take longer than you to get ready.
“I love you!” He yells, hoping to calm down the anger that brews inside of you. He should know better than to mess around with your hormonal self, but Satoru can’t help his personality at times.
A sigh escapes your lips, knowing that you can’t leave him hanging as much as he’d love to.
“Love you too, Satoru!”
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bongo-clash · 2 years ago
Text
The first time Duke brings up Danny, it’s February 13th, and Tim is making his inability to think of fun things to do with Bernard the problem of everyone present. Everyone present just so happens to consist of Steph, Damian, and miraculously Jason, along with the aforementioned Tim.
“Just get him some flowers and chocolate or something, I don’t know what the big deal is.” Jason scoffs, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth before promptly throwing another at Tim. 
“I don’t want to be cliché,” Tim whines, not even flinching when it nails him in the forehead. “I just… it’s our first Valentine’s together, you know? And I reallylike Bernard, I want to do these kinds of things with him.” 
Damian crosses his arms, looking increasingly bored with the conversation and trying very hard to keep his focus on the nature documentary they’d been watching before Tim had entered the living room and thrown himself between Steph and the arm of the sofa with the most pitiful sigh they’d heard from him in months. “Drake, if he has somehow managed to see past your innumerable faults and date you regardless, then I assure you that being cliché is not going to deter him.” 
For some reason, this doesn’t seem to comfort Tim at all. “Why not do something we did for Valentine’s day way back when?” Steph suggests with a sharp smile. “That stuff was fun!”
He looks at her blankly, gaze reeking scepticism. “Steph, we covered the Batmobile in heart-shaped confetti, I cannot do that with Bernard. You guys give terrible advice.”
There’s a brief silence in the room, where everyone kind of agrees with him but doesn’t want to lose any dignity by admitting it, before Duke walks through the door. He spends about half a second processing the scene before him, before coming to a conclusion and sending them all a wry smile. “Something up?”
“Yes,” Tim heaves. “I’m trying to think of something cute to do with Bernard for our first Valentine’s day together, but these guys know literally nothing about functional romance. I don’t want to be cheesy, but I am not going to be taking him on a glittery joyride in the Batmobile, because that will only end in disaster.” He finishes, sending a very pointed look at Steph. Steph, to her credit, only grins in response, not an ounce of regret on her face. 
Duke hums contemplatively. “Okay, I need to hear about that joyride but, yeah, I know how you feel. I was so nervous on my first Valentine’s with Danny. I mean, if you need inspo, we got the bus down to the Bowery and ate pastries at that one vegan bakery? I wanted to take him stargazing but neither of us had the money to get that far out, so we just sat in the park when it got dark and he told me where all the constellations would be; it was sweet. I’m pretty sure you can see at least some stars in Bristol, though, so maybe you two could do it properly?”
He says it so casually, but everyone else in the room is sitting stock still by the end of it, blindsided by shock. Steph is the first to break out of her stupor, rocking forward wide-eyed in her space next to Tim, effectively crushing him between the arm of the sofa and either not noticing or entirely uncaring (and considering the Bat-training, it’s definitely the latter). 
“You have a boyfriend?!”
Duke looks at her, slightly bewildered. “Have I never mentioned Danny before? Yeah, I have a boyfriend, I have no idea how this hasn’t come up.”
“Damn, congrats man.” Jason whistles. “Since when?”
“Since like, a few years ago. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known any of you.”
Damian suddenly looks a little more interested in the conversation. “And you managed to keep the secret of your paramour from us this entire time?”
“I- what? It wasn’t a secret or anything! My love life must’ve just never come up. I don’t think you’ll have met ever him, ‘cause he’s pretty shy, but he’s so sweet. He’s obsessed with space- s’why I wanted to take him stargazing that Valentine’s; he mentioned doing it a lot in his hometown since the light pollution wasn’t so bad over there.”
“Dude,” Tim starts slowly. “You are literally the most stable person in this house that isn’t Alfred.”
Duke, for some reason, snorts at that. “Sure, why not?”
-
The second time Danny is brought up, it’s because Damian told Dick that Thomas has a boyfriend, and Dick decides that he has an obligation as the older brother of the family to be teasingly nosy. Ever since he found out, he’s been waiting for the chance to say something to Duke- he figures talking about relationships is a good way to bond. (And he also figures that if he can find out more about this mysterious boyfriend before anyone else does, he gets bragging rights about being Duke’s favourite brother, but that’s neither here nor there.)
An opportunity arrives at about eight in the morning on a Sunday. Dick’s up early for the drive back to Blüdhaven, and Duke’s up for the beginning of his vigilante dayshift, eating a breakfast bagel with lox and cream cheese.
“Morning!” Dick chirps, taking a seat on one of the stools next to him, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a bowl of cereal in the other. 
“Hey, Dick, what’s up? You’re not usually in the kitchen this early.” He greets.
Dick turns his stool just a tad to face the boy better, sending him a smile over his mug. “I’ve got work in the afternoon so I wanna give myself enough time to get back.” He explains lightly, before giving him a slightly mischievous look. “And I thought it’d be a good opportunity to talk to my second littlest brother.”
“Should I be worried about what that involves?” Duke laughs, somewhere between joking and wary. Fair enough- bonding in the Wayne household does tend to come with a note of foreboding. 
Not this time, though, if Dick has a say in it. “Well, a little birdie told me you have a boyfriend I didn’t know anything about! How’d you even meet him?”
“Oh, right, probably should have expected this,” He huffs, gaze drifting towards his bagel again, recalling something with soft eyes. “We met a little bit before the whole Zero Year thing- quite literally ran into each other and, I don’t know, we just got talking- clicked I guess. We started dating a while after. We’re kind of long-distance, since he doesn’t live in Gotham, but Danny’s stuck around through a lot of mess, and it’s just… nice, you know? I like that we can just be normal together even if everything else is weird.”
Admittedly, this is melting Dick’s heart a little. He can’t say he’d actually dwelled much on what Duke’s life was like before being taken in as a Wayne Ward even if he’d heard about him meeting Bruce during the Zero Year and helping the We Are Robin movement. He feels a little guilty for not considering it before, but… he’s really glad Duke had something normal and consistent to help him through it. Lord knows finding out he’s a meta and then having to deal with the paternal baggage that came with it must have been rough. 
Speaking of which- “Does he know you’re a meta?” Dick asks, tone broaching on something more careful, hoping it isn’t a rude question. 
Duke smiles, fondness lilting the edges. “Yeah, I told him first chance I got- wanted all the help I could get figuring everything out. Plus, it was kinda cathartic having a freak out with him about it; you just can’t do that kind of thing with B.”
Dick nods sagely. “He’s way too emotionally stunted for it.” And then, quieter. “I’m happy he’s good to you, Duke. You sound like a really great couple.”
“Yeah,” Duke replies. “I like to think so too.”
-
Inevitably, Bruce finds out. 
There’s a lot of things he could say to begin this conversation. Many tactful, sensible openers in order to ensure an honest and healthy discussion about the relationship he’d been wholly unaware Duke was in. There are many reasonable ways to go about this.
“Don’t you think telling your partner about your meta abilities is a risk to your vigilante identity?” Is what he says instead. 
Duke heaves a heavy sigh, turning around from where he’d been looking at the poetry section of the manor’s library to face him. Already, Bruce wants nothing more than to rewind to five seconds ago where he hadn’t opened with that. Never let it be said Batman knows how to start a conversation. 
“He doesn’t live in Gotham, so he isn’t as familiar with the abilities of all its vigilantes,” he begins slowly, tinged with an exasperation. “Plus, I trust him. I haven’t said anything explicitly, but if he knows, he knows, and if he wants to talk about it, we’ll talk about it. Simple as that.”
Good Lord, why is his second youngest ward more emotionally mature than him?
The part of him that’s stuck perpetually in Dark Knight mode wants to keep questioning him, but miraculously, the awkward father cowardice wins out- it’s not like he can’t find out more later. Feeling distinctly out of his depth, he asks “…Will he be invited to dinner at some point?”
Duke looks starkly bewildered at how easily he dropped the interrogation, and Bruce doesn’t want to navigate what that says about his communication skills right now, so he files it away to have a crisis about later. “Uh- I don’t know if it’d be anytime soon? He’s kinda shy, and the whole ‘billionaire family’ thing is pretty intimidating, B.”
“Oh,” Bruce stilts, looking lost. “Right, of course. Well, tell him he’s always welcome anyway.”
The conversation ends there, mostly because Bruce wanted to run away from the situation before his foot could go any further into his mouth. He really wanted to find out more about this ‘Danny’ character, but a first name isn’t enough to go off of when he doesn’t know what the boy looks like. Maybe he shouldn’t worry so much, though. The boy is a civilian, after all, and has apparently known Duke far longer than they have- maybe he should lay off the investigation a little. 
-
A few months pass by in the interlude of vague details and brief allusions to Duke’s boyfriend, but eventually, it comes to a head. In a warehouse they’ve been taken hostage in, with ominous sigils scattered circular about the floor. 
Nightwing, Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Signal- all tied around individual support beams outside the summoning circle, each of them struggling with incensed fervour, unknowing of what the occultists are attempting to unleash and unknowing of whether they’ll succeed. Damian hasn’t stopped cursing everyone in the room out since he woke up, resulting in him muttering darkly beneath a tightly-bound gag. 
It should’ve been easy for them to break out, the restraints look like nothing but rope and none of their armour has been taken, but the binds must have been enchanted, because for all the struggle, they’ve yet to break free. It seems like all they can do now is wait for the others to find them and get them out. 
They fall silent when the chanting begins, focusing solely on trying to escape their bounds, only becoming more desperate as the sigils begin to glow an irradiated green. The room turns dark in contrast, specks of dustlight becoming stars and walls becoming unseen void. Symbols appear to lift from the floor like layers of paint or aurora borealis, and it’s fitting to the way that gravity seems to disperse, feeling as if their restraints are the only thing keeping them grounded. 
Duke is the first of them to go still, but all of them freeze when the entity emerges. 
Lifting from a single point and expanding outwards like a primeval atom, the being unfurls into shades of white and searing emerald, frilled layers flaring out and shifting like feathery limbs beneath invisible waves. Their presence alone fills the whole warehouse, stretching out infinitely beyond. What feels like a thousand eyes stare, and stare, and stare. 
“My Lord,” One of the occultists call out- seemingly the leader- desperate reverence coating their voice in sickening honey. “Balance of the Ether, Door Between Realms, King of Stars Dead, you have answered our call! An honour it is to be in your presence.”
The entity is silent. The weight of it is a universe pressing against their backs. 
Warier now, the leader continues. “We called upon you for great cause, my Lord! This world has forgotten their worship of your gift, has become impure without the light of your power! We offer you a vassal to walk this Earth and lead us!” 
Something in the air sharpens at the declaration, and the expression of the entity is impossible to discern, but suddenly they feel interested. 
“A vassal?” The being croons, voice of glaciers snapping and the sound galaxies make unheard by human ears. “You believe the universe is in need of a vassal? Do I not already walk? Am I not already witnessed?”
The leader gestures a silent command, and another occultist goes towards them, heading straight for where the Signal is restrained. His binds are cut with an intricately patterned knife, and he’s brought up before the entity. Batman’s pleas for them to use him instead are lost to some unknown solar wind, but Duke seems nothing but calm. Catatonic, surely, Bruce thinks, but there’s nothing he can do.  
“Perhaps not a vassal, then, but a sacrifice to your grace nonetheless, my Lord!” The leader exclaims, grabbing Signal in what would be a bruising grip if not for the body armour. The weight of the entity’s stare is utterly crushing. “One of Gotham’s sacred knights, an offer to your Realm!”
There is a brief moment where nothing happens and then, all at once, what appears as the being’s face is very, very close.
“You make him bleed,” The entity whispers, rage shaking like tectonic plates in the prelude to an earthquake. “You make him bleed, and I promise you, you will never stop bleeding. You will be sent to Eternal Rest, and you will not rest; I will tear you infinitely apart.”
“My- my Lord?!” The leader trembles, as his followers begin to back away on unstable feet. 
The being’s voice is strangely quiet, but they suppose that the Big Bang wouldn’t have been all that loud to them, either. “Leave.”
Hair-trigger compliance, every single occultist runs like God is chasing them out that warehouse, snapping at their feet. They don’t so much as glance at the Bats they’re leaving behind, and the room feels less pressurised at their absence, tension leaking away even as the entity remains looming before them, quiet and still. Batman is about to say something, call out to Signal or thank the entity for their mercy or something, but before he can do more than open his mouth, the voice lilts, softer than earth. 
“Starlight, are you alright?”
The fear in the room is replaced by naked shock and bewilderment. The entity has eyes only for Signal, and he doesn’t seem afraid or confused in the slightest. His posture is easy, relaxed. 
And then he does something insane. 
Duke leans forward, and kisses the cheek of the entity’s incomprehensibly large face, and with a tone utterly fond, tells them. “Yeah, I’m okay, Danny.”
Hold the phone. Hold the phone now. 
“DANNY?!” Dick shrieks, completely throwing away his concern for his brother’s life in the face of an eldritch monster at the revelation. “You- no way- what- I—that’s Danny?!”
The others not already present pick that precise moment to burst in through the doors- Red Hood wielding guns, Spoiler wielding Batarangs, and Black Bat dropped low into a fighting stance. “The cavalry has-!” Jason starts, before pausing and taking in the scene they’ve jumped into. Four out of five Bat-hostages in binds, the last of them leaning affectionately into something straight out of a sci-fi horror, and no occultists in sight. “Uh, what?” 
“Y’know, this really isn’t how I was expecting to meet Duke’s mystery boyfriend.” Tim breathes airily, either going into shock or just completely emotionally retreating from the situation. No one even bothers to scold him for using names in the field. 
Steph blinks, straightening up, looking at Duke and the entity and then back at Tim’s pallid complexion. “You’re joking.” She says, voice flat. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“If it’s any consolation,” The entity- Danny, apparently- interrupts, making everyone else in the room barring Duke jump. “I also wasn’t expecting to meet Duke’s vigilante family like this?”
Dick splutters. “I—how were you even expecting us to meet then?!”
“Well—“ Danny begins, before pausing. A sound between a hum and a thousand ringing bells fills the air, and that’s all the warning they get for the flash of searing light succeeding. Like it’d never been there in the first place, the entity folds back into himself, shrinking and fading into more comprehensible colours, until all that’s left in the wake is a completely normal looking teenage boy. Black hair, blue eyes, casual T-shirt and jeans, accentuated by a bright yet sheepish grin. If they hadn’t just seen him towering over the whole warehouse and frightening the life out of those occultists, they’d have never expected anything was wrong with him at all. As it is, though, the image is hard to unsee. “Maybe looking a little more like this?”
“Duke,” Tim says sombrely, slumping against the support beam he’s still tied to, resignation written over every inch of him. “I can’t believe you let me think you were the normal one in our family.”
Duke just laughs at them. “Hey, that’s on you. I never said Danny wasn’t the King of the Dead- I just said he was shy.”
Another Duke & Danny prompt curtsey of me😚 yw💖
Basically Duke and Danny already know each other and started dating before Duke officially got taken in by Bruce and became a part of the Batfam. The Batfam is vaguely aware that Duke is seeing someone but whenever it's brought up it's shut down with a "he's very shy" or a "he doesn't live in Gotham" all the know is his name is Danny.
Flash forward a couple of weeks/months half the Batfam's captured by cultist trying to summon the ghost king, they succeed but the Eldritch being they called upon just appears disinterested and bored asf. The cult leader starts to panic abit and presents one of their many sacrifices to him, unfortunately for them it was Duke that was presented to him and the monster goes ballistic. By the time the rest of the Batfam gets there, the cultist have already been taken care of (whether they passed out from shock or ran away) and the monster turns it attention back to Duke not paying any mind to the other bats
The Bats can only watch in fear as a being of unimaginable horror picks up the second youngest member of the team and smiles at him with a grin far too wide and sharp for pure intentions. Their fears grow as the monster brings their teammate up to it's face and-
"S̸̯͇͝t̸̢͌a̸͇͑r̶̜͋̊l̴̖͔̀̋i̶̛̮̚g̵̥̺̃͗h̵̯̒ͅt̵͈̝̚!"
Pulls Duke into an impromptu face hug? Ok weird. Even weirder when Duke starts softly laughing and when pulled away from the creature, the Batfam can see he has a fond smile on his face
"Hi Danny"
-Record Scratch-
Hold the fucking phone-
DANNY? As in DUKES MYSTERIOUS BOYFRIEND DANNY?!
Jaws are dropped, tears are shed, minds are fucking blown over the fact that, Duke Thomas, 2nd youngest member of the Batfam, is dating a fucking Eldritch God
#Hjshdgfjs this was fun to write!!#I don’t usually write ship HOWEVER this prompt was too good not to do something for#(If OP doesn’t want additions like this though I’ll take it down!!)#Think it’d be fun if Danny and Duke actually met before Danny got his powers#The Fentons were vacationing in Gotham and Danny got lost at some point and met Duke#And after the accident the next time he visits Danny’s just like “Okay so I May have Died Since You Last Saw Me”#Duke’s surprisingly chill about it because he’s a Gothamite- weirder things have Definitely happened#Cut to Duke finding out he’s a meta and just immediately calling up his bf like “You’ve done the whole new powers thing before Please Help”#And then promptly seeing stars and So Much Light when he looks at Danny#(Becoming the reason he calls it Ghost Vision because I think that’d be cute)#Just the two of them having the Wildest Ride in their separate lives and going to the other for help#Also Bruce calls Duke his ward because Duke still has parents and he respects that#But the rest of the Batfam call him their brother because he’s an only child and he thinks having kind-of-siblings is cool#If this reads weird it’s because I’ve forgotten how to write SHJDFHSDJF#Yeah I based my eldritch Danny descriptions in this off my peacock au I Just Thought It'd Be Neat#Don’t mind the weirdly specific mention of the lox/cream cheese bagel I’ve never actually had one but I Really want one they look so good#dpxdc#duke thomas/danny fenton#ghost lights#Bongo's Writing!!!
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caotictimmy · 29 days ago
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🍏- ANON? MAYBE??? it's so late for me but reading your nsfw on Daisuke...UAAAGHHH SAAGHHH 🗣️ he's such a vocal man and the whole morning sex thing where he can't get into you quick enough .helpop helppp meeeee helpppp
(maybe this is a request? Maybe I'm just yapping lowkey??? But if you want to write on this, by all means go for it LMAO)
Giggling over Swansea being mortified while walking in on reader x daisuke getting it on, I imagine they don't notice him and Daisuke is getting all needy trying to keep his pace 🤞 That boy has never felt the touch of person romantically so I could onllllyyyy assume that he'd been sensitive his first time. Or like. Every time with reader- especially if they're still on the ship. He's trying to not make too much noise as everyone is asleep ☹️ his whiney ass is NOT making it through that night. Bonus if reader is nonchalant about it the next day at lunch. They're talking with someone about their poor love lives (finding people to stay with how long their jobs shipments are)- reader dropping shit like 'aw man yeah. if only there was someone to really understand me, y'know?'. As if Daisuke wasn't memorizing their insides and how they physically react to him with his body just last night 😭
HELP 🍏 ANON THIS MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD I ALMOST FELL OFF MY BED. But this is Acually so smart. I always believe Daisuke gets lost in the sauce when you guys have sex. For the headcanon I was thinking they were known dating. But for this let’s pretend the crew doesn’t know Daisuke and reader are dating. The first kind middle part will be NSFW. But the rest should be NSFW. This will be done as a one shot. (I’ll also include your little bonus! Plus a little more:3)
What was that god damn noise..? Swansea thought. Irradiated as he heard a squeaking sound, an indescribable muffled sound coming along with it. For fucks sake he just wanted to get some rest! But those loud noises would not let the poor man drift to sleep. He was gonna put a stop to that noise. Once and for all.
Swansea swings his legs over the side of his bed, sitting up. Stretching his arms as he gets ready to investigate what the noise is, and where it’s coming from. He stands up, his back making a loud crack.( I love old man Swansea). He slips his slippers on. Grabbing and putting on his robe by the door. Slowly pushing the door open. Before silently shutting the door. The noise got louder. Even though the walls were paper thin. It still muffled some of the noise.
He tread carefully through the halls. Getting closer to the noise. Swansea could hear talking maybe? The squeaking of something getting louder the more he approaches. Wait. He’s getting closer to Daisuke’s room..? What the hell was that kid doing. He could hear a faint panting? He started walking a bit faster.
Daisuke’s door was cracked open. God was the kid hurt-. Oh… Oh dear god.. For the love of pony express why did he have to be the one to catch this scene. He could now clearly see what was happening now. God why him..? (Warning for what’s ahead will be NSFW)
“Nyyhhh… F-fuck you feel so good. G-god so good. Am I doing good? Mhm!.. a-am I doing good for you. Wanna make sure your feeling as ..ahh ~… as good as I am.” Daisuke whimpered out. His arms wrapped around your waist as he continues going his rough pace.
“Yes! O-oh fuck hah… doing so good for me!”, Your voice muffled as you were face first in your pillow. Daisuke’s body pressing against your back. Like he was trying to mold his body with you. A loud ‘plap’ sound being able to be heard.
Swansea felt his face contort in horror. He could feel his stomach twist in disgust. He definitely walked in on something he definitely shouldn’t have. So what did he do. He went back to his room. Staring at the ceiling with that petrified face still stuck on his face. To say he wasn’t able to sleep that night would be an understatement
-
“I feel like it’s impossible to date anyone with this crappy job.” Anya huffed in a frustrated tone. “I second to that.”, Curly sighed as he ate his crappy lunch.” Our shipments at a Minimum are 5 months! And it’s like we get a month or two back on earth, before they send us back to ship something!” Anya finished. The annoyed look on her face quite prominent.
“I get you Anya. I want to Acually spend time with someone and let them get to know me. But you can’t really do that on this floating rock.”, You said nonchalantly. You sure were letting Daisuke get to know you. All of you… Swansea thought. Trying not to gag at the imagie of what he witnessed last night.
You could feel Daisuke’s eyes turn to you. Lingering a bit longer than ‘just friends’. “Yeah man, it’s such a bummer!” Daisuke said. A light blush spread across his face as he said it. No one else except Swansea noticed.
“Say uh..” Anya started, looking up at you. “I saw you walking in here with a limp, you good?” She asked,her voice laced with concern. God why did you have to ask that Anya! Swansea cringed at her question. “Oh yea no I’m good! Just hit my leg on the wall while sleeping y’know.” You said. Hmh.. I’m sure you were doing some sort of sleeping. Swansea hurrying to finish his food. Quickly getting up to put his plate in the sink and immediately start work. He really just wants to take his mind off this..
-
“Swan-sea!” Daisuke said, dragging the two parts of Swansea’s name out. Swansea ignored Daisuke, continuing to work on the broken vent. “Dude did I do something wrong?” Swansea sighed. Since Daisuke wanted the truth he’ll get it.”For fucks sake Daisuke! Can you have them stop fucking like rabbits! I know you young people have your urges, but this has been going on for the past week. And it’s Saturday for crying out loud!” Swansea yelled.
“AND IF YOU FREAKS ARE GONNA KEEP GOING AT IT. AT LEAST KEEP THE DOOR SHUT AND BE QUIET. SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP.” Swansea finished, catching his breath. Daisuke just stood there stunned.
“You.. you heard us..?” Daisuke asked, his mouth agape and his eyes shot wide. “I didn’t just hear you guys. Saw it to! Close the damn door next time!” Swansea said irritated. Daisuke continued to stand there embarrassed. “Swansea uh.. I-I’m so sorry I didn’t realize.” Daisuke stuttered out. Still shocked about the revelation.
“Yeah you better be fucking sorry” Swansea muttered. Turning around before pausing. Sighing a bit. “At lest your getting some action in this hell hole. Reminds me of me and my wife.” He said. Before holding his fist out. “I’m only gonna do this once Daisuke.” Swansea said. Daisuke happily returned the fist bump.
“Now get the hell out of my sight for the rest of the day!” Swansea yelled. “Alright swan-sea!” Daisuke said, doing the same long period name thing. Swansea let out an annoyed sigh. At least the kid was happy…
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cherry-leclerc · 2 months ago
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we never talk about it ☆ op81
genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader
word count: 11k
It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.
inspired by this !
cherry here!... based on real events.
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Do you remember the day we first met?
The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him. 
You always have.
“A little bit. Yeah.”
He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.
Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean.  Think back to it quite often."
-
It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.
His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.
But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.
“You’re drooling.”
Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”
His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”
He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”
But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.
Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”
“Am I interrupting?” 
Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters. 
“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”
A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”
“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”
“How do you know?”
You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t. 
“Just a wild hypothesis.”
Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones. 
Zak grins. “You three.”
“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body. 
“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.
“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”
“Oh, you Judas—”
“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.
With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver. 
With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower. 
He’s just becoming— too real. 
“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”
“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his. 
“Likewise.”
Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”
“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.
“Fantastic.”
A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”
“Nice to meet you—”
“Nice to meet you—”
You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush. 
“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”
In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.
-
“He fucks with you.”
“Excuse me?”
Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”
You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.
It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.
You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble. 
-
The start of the season is always tough. 
“He’s extremely nervous.”
For some more than others.
You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”
Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”
“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”
“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”
“Ana—”
“Please.”
You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”
As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—
“Come in.”
He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”
“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”
Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”
“What?” A beat. “No.”
He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”
You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn. 
“You’re going to do g—”
“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”
“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”
“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”
“It doesn’t do it for you?”
His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.
“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”
You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or sometimes even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”
Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”
It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of  them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.
The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”
“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”
A timid smile. “I know…”
He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.
This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.
-
“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world. 
You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”
“Yes! Ten—got it.”
He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing. 
You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention. 
Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand. 
It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough. 
How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?
Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles. 
Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend? 
You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.
Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”
Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”
You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”
Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”
Will perks up. “Her?”
The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words. 
“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.
Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”
Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”
And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”
The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing. 
The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”
Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”
The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.” 
A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement. 
“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”
-
“Is everything okay?”
Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”
Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”
The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry. 
“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”
A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”
“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room. 
The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help. 
Woah, are you feeling alright? 
“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.” 
Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”
“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright. 
A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”
He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”
A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”
With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”
You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”
Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”
Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”
The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you. 
As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.
“That bad?”
“That annoying.”
And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”
“Yes.”
He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”
Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”
Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”
“You know how?”
“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”
The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter. 
“Just…close your eyes.”
Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek. 
It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little. 
“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration. 
As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you. 
Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”
You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground. 
Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open. 
Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”
Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”
She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”
Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”
-
Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver. 
“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace. 
He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.” 
A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”
“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”
You scoff. “How are you so sure?”
He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”
“Funnest is not a word.”
“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”
“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”
Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.” 
“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”
“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”
You sneer, already walking away.
He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat. 
You’re still sober?
Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.” 
Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”
“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”
“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”
“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.
Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose. 
“Stupid, stupid boys—”
“Hey.”
You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering. 
Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”
“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”
Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”
“It’s a family heirloom.”
“A glass bowl?”
You giggle. “I wonder why too.”
Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it. 
You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”
He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”
Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”
“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”
You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”
The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”
You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”
His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”
“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”
He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”
You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”
He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”
A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”
“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”
Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers. 
Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers. 
“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs. 
“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess. 
You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”
Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon. 
“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”
“I’m not his girlfriend—”
“She’s not my girlfriend—”
Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”
“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando. 
“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”
Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”
“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”
“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”
“You used to be fun.”
“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”
“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”
“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.” 
Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands. 
“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.” 
“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.” 
A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t  mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him. 
You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”
“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”
You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”
She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”
“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again. 
“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”
“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”
Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan. 
The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing. 
You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.” 
As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief. 
Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”
Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.” 
She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.
“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”
He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”
You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”
He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”
-
It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision. 
You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk. 
It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing. 
The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off. 
“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”
Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop. 
The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”
That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you? 
A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”
The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”
Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”
He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”
Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”
He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”
Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”
The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”
You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”
He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”
“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”
Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”
It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning. 
“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”
He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”
Your breath catches. “Os—”
All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other. 
“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry. 
You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”
A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”
A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”
Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath. 
“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”
The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer. 
“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”
You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”
“What about now?”
You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”
He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”
Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”
The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”
“I wasn’t pondering.”
“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”
“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning. 
“I’m in love with this boy.”
He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”
You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”
He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”
The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”
A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”
Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”
Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”
Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”
Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”
A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”
His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”
A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”
“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”
By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Lennon gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.   
“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”
-
That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome. 
But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando. 
You what? 
A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”
“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”
His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”
Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”
“My dignity? A good friend?”
Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”
You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”
“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”
“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers. 
“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that  things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”
Your breath hitches.
And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream. 
-
Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean. 
“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”
“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.” 
She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”
“Definitely.”
At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”
He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.
“Thinking?”
You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”
And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still.. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts. 
And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice. 
“Do you know what song this is?”
Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare me have that kind of power over you?
“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”
The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”
“Oh yeah.”
The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”
Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to. 
He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”
And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has. 
“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”
You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might. 
“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, does eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.
“I mean it.” 
Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct. 
You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now. 
His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once. 
“You’ve always been my dre—”
“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.
“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”
You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”
He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”
Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.
And let’s face it. 
It was never going to be you.
-
You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues. 
It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt? 
Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.
But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend. 
Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing. 
The kind that lets you know—
You’ve lost.
His arms are tied around her waist, his head nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you. 
Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded. 
She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you? 
Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks as tired as you are. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab. 
It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough. 
But then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”
But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.
“You’re here!”
All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.
“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”
She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”
You blush. “No. Even better.”
“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”
“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”
“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”
Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.” 
The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”
Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!
At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.
“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”
Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring. 
You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”
“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”
His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”
Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”
“You are?”
Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”
He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”
“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”
Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”
Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”
“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”
“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”
His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”
It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”
Leaves rustle. “You were?”
“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”
The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”
“That I loved you too.”
He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle. 
“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”
“A little bit. Yeah.”
A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.” 
And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed me—”
“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”
-
Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a sheepish laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes. 
“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”
“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”
He frowns. “I know that, but—”
“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”
Lando hums. “Understood.”
Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”
A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. 
Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”
“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes. 
Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”
“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock. 
“I really hope nothing changes between us.”
You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”
The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.
By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it’ll continue for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.
“I love you, okay?”
You smile. “I love you, too.”
Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.
Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”
“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”
“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place. 
“What about me?” 
She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”
Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.
“No. But I once got very close.”
taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna
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melzula · 8 months ago
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zuko confiding in sokka to be his wingman to try to get together with you?
a/n: sokka sharing his back bending skills with zuko we love to see it. also this takes place post-war
summary: Zuko isn’t sure how to tell you he likes you, so he looks to Sokka for guidance
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Zuko watches longingly from across the room as you dance with Katara and enjoy the night’s festivities. Your eyes sparkle with joy and your smile is so infectious it has everyone around you beaming. Everyone seems to want your attention, and so he hadn’t been able to speak to you much since the party began, but he desperately wants to be near you.
“You know you look like a total creep when you stand in the corner and stare, right?” Sokka notes, interrupting Zuko’s sulking.
“I’m not staring!” The Fire Lord says defensively, but he knows he’s not fooling anyone.
“Come on, buddy, it’s a party! Lighten up! Go mingle!”
“I don’t want to mingle,” Zuko grumbles indignantly, “I just want to talk to y/n.”
“Then go talk to her!” Sokka encourages as if it’s the most easiest thing in the world. “It’s not like you haven’t talked to her before. She’s our friend!”
“I know that,” the boy bites irritably. Deflating, he sighs, “But it’s different this time.”
“What do you mean?” Sokka says, his demeanor morphing into that of a more serious tone.
“I… I think I have feelings for her.”
“You what?!” Sokka exclaims, earning a few puzzled stares from nearby partygoers. Zuko sends his friend a harsh look and urges him to be quiet.
“I know, I know. What am I thinking? She’s perfect, she’d never go for someone like me,” he admits in quiet defeat. “It’s stupid of me to feel this way.”
“What? No way, that’s not true,” his friend insists encouragingly. “You’re a great guy! You just need to work on your romance game.”
“My what?” Zuko retorts skeptically.
“Your romance game! Look, if you want y/n to like you then you have to work your charm.”
“I don’t have any charm to work.”
“Sure you do, it’s easy! Take it from your old buddy Sokka, the ladies love me. Just follow my advice and by the end of the night y/n will be dying for you to ask her out!”
Zuko is skeptical of his friend’s words and hesitant to take Sokka’s offer of help, but he knows he’s hopeless on his own and there aren’t many other options. With a relenting sigh, Zuko gives his friend an agreeing nod.
“What should I do first?”
“Just follow my lead,” the boy says with a wink before loudly calling you and his sister over. Zuko does his best to mask his embarrassment and puts on his best attempt of a smile as you and Katara saunter over arm-in-arm.
“Hi, guys!” You greet cheerily. “King Kue really knows how to throw a party, doesn’t he?”
“He sure does! Say, that’s a really nice dress,” Sokka compliments before harshly elbowing Zuko’s side. “Don’t you agree, Zuko?”
“Uh, yes, it is,” he stammers nervously, his face immediately turning red. “You look very beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you reply with a bashful smile. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
“Not at all,” he says earnestly. “You could never be too much.”
“You know, y/n, Zuko here was just telling me how much he wants to dance,” your friend informs you much to the Fire Lord’s dismay.
“What?! That’s not-“
“Oh, well, would you like to dance with me, Zuko?” You ask with a careful smile, delicately holding your hand out for him to take. His protests immediately die in his throat as he takes in your gentle features, the world almost seeming to come to a halt as he focuses on you before him. Your beauty almost physically pains him, and he wished he knew how to tell you this without coming off like a total creep.
Zuko hesitates before taking your hand, knowing that whatever happens next could alter your friendship forever, but the idea of physical touch is almost too tempting, and so he gently grabs hold of your hand and guides you back to the dance floor.
The musicians play a melody of traditional Earth Kingdom waltzes, and despite knowing nothing about dancing Zuko does his best to match your pace. His hands are suffocatingly warm against your skin, but you never once complain. You say nothing when he steps on your toes repeatedly or gets caught on your dress, and in spite of how awkward you both look compared to the other couples on the floor you seem to be having the most fun out of them all.
“You’re doing wonderful,” you encourage, giggling when he missteps and nearly trips over his own feet.
“I’m awful at this,” he argues exasperatedly. “I’m sorry you got stuck with such a lousy dance partner.”
“I don’t care about how good you can dance. I’m just happy you’re dancing with me,” you admit, looking away bashfully to hide your smile. “I haven’t really been able to speak to you much tonight, so I appreciate being with you now.”
Over your shoulder, Zuko spots Sokka from across the way. The water tribe boy waves his arms frantically and gestures for Zuko to make his move. The Fire Lord simply scowls before swallowing down his nerves and looking back to you.
“Y/n,” he calls faintly, gently guiding your face to look back up at him. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all night, but it’s been hard. You’re so full of life, you draw people in with just your smile, and so I didn’t think I’d get the chance to finally be alone with you and tell you that- well, that I have feelings for you. I want to be the one that makes you smile, the one that dances with you at every party.”
“Zuko,” you murmur softly, taken aback by his confession. He takes your surprise as rejection and looks down with a dejected smile.
“I know, we’re friends. It’s strange of me to think we could be more, but I just needed to tell you.”
“No, that’s not it,” you quickly correct him, “I-I’m just surprised because I didn’t think you felt the same way I did.”
"You mean… you like me back?” Zuko asks in disbelief.
“Of course I do! What’s not to like?” You tease with a smile. “All night I was hoping you’d come up to me, and even though Katara said I should be the one to make the first move I was too scared to try. I’m glad you told me because I feel the same.”
You feel as if your heart could burst when he carefully tilts your chin up to meet your lips in a kiss. Ever since he joined your group you’d wanted nothing more than for him to see you as you saw him, and after months of what you thought was one-sided pining it seems Zuko has felt the same way about you all along. It took some time for things to come out in the open, but now that they are you couldn’t be any happier.
And unbeknownst to either of you, Katara and Sokka share high-fives behind your back in celebration of their successful plan.
| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy
| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303
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monstersflashlight · 3 months ago
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Can we get a sequel/prequel to, Honey I’m Home? Like a story on the love story leading up to marriage. Or maybe even the story of how the Minotaur husband proposed? My favorite story you wrote <3
Hi there! I think this was @strawberrypoundtown idea a looooong time ago, and I thought it would be great to mix it with this request because it feels perfect. I don’t know if this fits the love part that much, but well, they are very horny for each other since the beginning. (You can read "Honey, I'm home" here)
Shared shower
Minotaur x fem!reader || rut, cum play, oral sex, overstimulation
You are always the weird one who decides to shower at weird times of the night, everyone thinks it’s because there’s less people in the shared dorm bathroom, but in reality you just enjoy to singing in the shower and prefer not to have an audience for it. Also jerking off. You couldn’t jerk off in the same room as your puritan roommate, and you weren’t ready to have meaningless sex with anybody… Well, maybe with certain minotaur that you’ve seen around the dorm. You would definitively have meaningless sex with him. But that wasn’t going to happen because he had a girlfriend. Or so you’ve heard. It’s not like you two interacted before.
So it’s two in the morning when you roll out of your room in your way to the showers. You being a night owl never paid so much. You enter without thinking it twice, there’s never anybody there at those hours, just you and the silence of the night. But not today. Fuck.
You could hear on shower running and a very heavy breathing, over the stall you can see the tell tale sign of a minotaur, his horns too tall to be hidden by the door. Double fuck. You wanted some alone time to get one off before bed, thinking about certain minotaur that you were sure was in that exact stall. Triple fuck. No singing, no jerking off. Could your luck be any worse?
And then you hear it. The unmistakable sound of flesh against flesh, of someone jerking their cock in the shower. Oh fuck. Your pussy gets wet instantly, knowing that not only your minotaur crush is in the shower, but also that he’s jerking off… That makes everything else a thousand times more intense. You walk to the stall next to his, slowly and quietly, trying not to alert him of your presence. You close the door behind you and rest your back against the wall, listening intently, trying to hear some more sounds from him.
And he doesn’t disappoint.
He starts groaning and grunting, like he’s about to come. You take your hand down your body, your towel discarded, and start touching your aching center. You know it’s wrong, so, so wrong… But he sounds so pretty when he whines and you are so into him. You start fingering yourself almost casually, not thinking about it too much, you always had something about voices, and him grunting like that is doing wonders for your pussy.
You are rubbing your pussy with your eyes closed when you hear the stall door being opened and a rough voice saying: “What are you doing?” He looks flushed and sweaty, in the most erotic way possible.
You reach for the towel to cover yourself as you start apologizing profusely. “Oh. Shit. Fuck. Sorry. I’ll leave. Sorry.” You run for the door. But then he whines and you turn around, scared that something happened.
He’s grabbing his huge hard on with his big hand, jerking himself as he looks pained. “What is wrong with you?” You ask, confused by the situation. You know he was about to finish, he sounded like he was about to finish, but his dick looks painfully hard.
He sighs, his hand not stopping as he says: “I’m in rut, and I have no partner to help.” The despair in his voice breaks something inside of you, your hand tightening around the towel as you look intently at his face, trying to avoid looking at the movement of his hand.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” You ask, confused all over again. You swore he had a girlfriend, you saw them kissing a couple days ago.
“She cheated. And now I’m in rut and... And I think I’m gonna die if I don’t come soon.” H sounds pitiful, and the whine he lets out makes your clit scream for attention. You rub your thighs together and try to focus on his words.
But then your stupid brain says: “Oh shit. What can I do? How do I help?” He laughs without any amusement, like what you just asked is a cruel joke.
“Are you gonna let me breed you for hours until I have no cum left?” At his words you blush harder than you’ve ever blushed. Your face must be so red you can’t even feel the blood in the rest of your body. “Go back to your room, I’ll deal,” his tone has so much hurt in it that you feel awful for him. He turns around and you stare at his wide back. You want to find the cheating girlfriend and kick his ass. But his words remind you of a problem you have in common right now… a horny problem.
“Maybe… Maybe I can be your rut partner?” He turns his head to look at you with eyes as big as plates and his nostrils flare, grunting when they catch a sniff of your desire in the air.
“I’m gonna ask this only one time… are you sure?” The fact that he even asks is enough for you to nod and let go of the towel you are holding against your body. He looks at your body like you are his next snack.
He is on you instantly. He pushes your body against the wall and devours your mouth in one fluid motion. You can only moan against his mouth. He controls every second of that kiss as you can only grab onto his shoulders to balance yourself on your tiptoes. He realizes soon enough and grabs you by the waist, urging you to get your legs around his middle. The movement makes your pussy and his huge dick make contact and you break the kiss to throw your head back, completely overwhelmed by the feel of him. He has ridges. Fuck. He feels wonderful, and he’s not even inside of you yet. He’s going to ruin you.
He kisses your neck as you pant, mumbling against your skin: “I need to be inside. I need to fuck you. To rut you. To breed you.” His words are filthy and incoherent, but you don’t care. You want the same as him: to have his dick buried in you.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant.
You are so wet he can get inside of you in one long thrust, taking all the air off your lungs as he starts fucking you like a machine. Your back is scratching against the wall but you don’t care, you are bouncing on minotaur cock and that is worth a thousand scratches at least.
He grunts and bellows as he fucks into you without any caress, without any worry, but it doesn’t matter that he’s only focused on himself because you are so on edge after fingering yourself earlier than not three minutes later you are crying out as he covers your mouth. You come messily around him, adding more juices to your fucking and making him go in and out of you like knife through butter. You are going insane with pleasure, and he just keeps going and going.
When you less expect it, he throws his head back, his horns looking amazing over his head as he comes. And comes. And comes. He fills you up so fucking much you think you are going to explode. You think your body can’t hold it together anymore. But then he pulls out and you hear the rush of come, leaving your body and landing on the floor.
He looks down and moans at the sight of your messy pussy, just to lift your body to his head. He cleans you out with his tongue as you grab his horns for dear life. It’s fast and hard, and you are coming around his rough tongue fast and hard. Your brain is fuzzy with everything that just happened. So many emotions and so many sensations, but he doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s impaled in you once again. His dick hitting every part of you as he fucks into you again.
And again.
And again.
He goes for what feels like hours, probably are. He fucks you full of come, and then cleans you out with his tongue just to start again. At one point you can’t even hold your legs around his waist, but he doesn’t care. He has enough strength to hold you against the wall as he keeps fucking your pussy. It’s too much, it’s too good… and he keeps going.
“We need to move,” he says between thrust in what feels like the twentieth round.
“What?” You ask, your brain completely out of reality.
He keeps thrusting into you, but his eyes look less crazy and wild than before, he seems calmer, his thrusts more controlled. “People are going to wake up soon and we can’t be here when they do,” he explains. You only understand about half of that.
“Okay…. Are we… Are we done?” You ask, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth, and his dick still buried inside of you making your brain go extra slow.
“No. I- I still need more. We can… We can go to my room?” He says it like a question and you can only nod as your head falls over his chest. He hugs you tightly as he takes some big towels and throws them around your body until you are decent enough to walk to his room.
You don’t know how many times you fuck, how many orgasms he coaches off you, but by the time he falls asleep, you can’t keep your eyes open anymore.
When you wake up, he fetched you some breakfast and helps you shower tenderly, your legs giving up under you every few seconds as he chuckles every time. When he asks you out after that, you can only say yes.
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